by Jane Arbor
she couldn’t measure her own.
Trevor was saying now, ‘I suppose you wouldn’t talk to her? Find out what’s wrong with her work, I mean?’
Jerked back from her thoughts, Dinah echoed, ‘“Her”? Oh—Etta? Do you think that would be a very good idea?’
‘I don’t see why not,’ he said. ‘She might be pre pared to confide in another girl things which she wouldn’t tell me, so would you try?’ ‘All right. But don’t be surprised if I have to re port back that she claims there’s nothing wrong, or that if there is, she doesn’t agree it affects her work. Shall I ask her to lunch with me o ne day, perhaps?’
‘Good idea. At the Grillo?’ Dinah suppressed a shudder. ‘No. I’ll invite her to bring a packed lunch, as I will too, and we’ll meet in the Gardens. Leave it to me.’ Later that night, on the short distance between the vaporetto landing stage and the Palazzo d’Orio, Trevor put his arm round her shoulders and they walked as intimately entwined as were the few other young couples they met. But then, and also when he kissed her goodnight, Dinah was dismayed by the little response she felt or was able to show.
This was what she had thought she wanted, wasn’t it?—for Trevor to play the lover and she the courted? He hadn’t kissed her as ardently since she came to Venice, but where was the leaping pulse which she had expected would reply? It wasn’t there; it didn’t beat for him, and what was even worse, he didn’t even seem to notice!
It was a problem she knew she was going to have to face. If they were to marry ultimately he must not take her for granted, and she must know what it was to thrill to him, to his voice, to his touch. There had to be a magic which sparked. For without it there was nothing.
When she invited Etta, the girl’s response was so lack-lustre that Dinah wondered if she would keep the rendezvous. But she did, and they found a shady corner in the Public Gardens away from the midday crowds. They exchanged items of the food they had brought with them, but Etta only toyed with hers before she asked, ‘Why did you ask me out? You don’t know me at all well. You must have had a reason?’
Dinah decided on the truth. ‘It was your chief who suggested I should,’ she said, and watched the girl scowl.
‘And what reason had he?” she demanded.
‘He is worried about you, about your work which isn’t as good as it was, he says. And if there were any cause for that, he thought you might be more willing to talk to me about it than to him.’
Etta’s chin went up. ‘Talk to you, signorina? The very last person I should choose for my confidante!’ she scorned.
There was a pause before Dinah questioned gently, ‘I wo nder if I can guess why? Could it be because you believe I am closer to Signor Land than you care to think?’
Etta looked away. ‘What does it matter to me how close you are to him?’
Dinah said, ‘I think it could, if you are growing fond of him yourself. I admit we’ve known each other for a long time and we are good friends, and we were glad to be meeting here again in Venice.’
‘And there is an understanding between you?’ Etta accused.
‘If by an understanding you mean an engagement —no.’
‘But there will be?’
‘I don’t know.’ With a wry recollection of Cesare’s taunt, Dinah added, ‘For the moment, all we are is just good friends.’ (What a very useful phrase it was, after all!)
‘He engaged and approved Maria Pacelli’s apartment for you, even though, when you went in to see it, you went with another man!’
Surprised, Dinah asked, ‘How do you know?’ ‘Signor Land mentioned it. I think he was hurt.’ Dinah shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, and the other man was only Signor Vidal, the cousin of the two youngsters I brought out from England with me. He had given
me a lift in his launch.’
‘Signor Vidal! All Venice knows him for what he is. No wonder Trevor—Signor Land—was offended!’
Dinah decided she didn’t want to hear again what ‘all Venice’ knew to Cesare’s detriment. With more rebuke in her tone than she intended, she said, ‘There’s no wonder about it at all. Trevor couldn’t have been offended, and wasn’t, I know. And please call him Trevor to me, if you think of him so. But aren’t we getting away from the subject—discussing my affairs, instead of his worry about your work ?’
‘And that’s my affair, isn’t it?’
‘Is it altogether, if he is dissatisfied with it, and we are agreed that your worry over me could be the cause?’
‘Who is agreed?’ Etta demanded. ‘You two have be en discussing me—laughing at me for—for being in love with him and being overanxious to please him ... and failing!’
‘I meant,’ Dinah explained patiently, ‘that you and I are agreed, as I think we are. He knows nothing of your feelings for him, and I promise you I won’t break your confidence.’
‘Then why are you questioning me?’ asked Etta shrewdly.
‘I told you—because he is worried about you. He likes you; until now he has been able to rely on you, and he doesn’t want to replace you by someone else.’
‘Perhaps,’ Etta hesitated with a quiver of her lip —‘it might be better if he did; if I hadn’t to see him
every day, knowing ----------- ’
‘It might be,’ Dinah allowed. ‘But that would make you very unhappy, wouldn’t it? No, I think you should go on as you are and determine to be worth his reliance on you, and—hope.’
‘How can I hope for what I want of him, when it is you he wants?’
Dinah said slowly, ‘But I don’t know that he does, in the way I
think I need to be wanted.’
‘But you want him?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘And that is why you think I may hope?’
Dinah shook her head. ‘It doesn’t follow that if he doesn’t love me, he’ll love you. Things don’t work out so neatly,’ she warned.
‘But if I am there, and make myself valuable to him?’
‘It could happen.’ In that moment D inah suspected that she felt less for Trevor than this girl did, and she made a resolve that until she was more sure that to lose him or be lost by him would matter deeply to either of them, she would see less of him; give them both a chance to miss each other. If they were going to, which she was ready to doubt.
When she and Etta parted she realised Trevor would expect a report on the upshot of their talk and that she had promised the girl she wouldn’t betray her confidence That posed a problem, and Dinah wasn’t to know then that when he did put the question to her he was going to be satisfied with her evasion that Etta had seemed shocked at his criticism of her work and that she had been put on her mettle to prove it unjustified.
Meanwhile the twins’ holiday time was racing away, but while it was passing they had made Venice their own. Tourist-wise they had ‘done’ it thoroughly; they had tramped the floors of the Doges’ Palace, shuddered at the chill of its dungeons, marvelled at the ancient wonders of St Mark’s, looked down on the city from the heights of the Clock Tower and the Campanile, bought an expensive trip in a gondola, shopped for souvenirs and home-gifts on the Rialto Bridge, and made the Lido their almost daily playground.
They got themselves invited to beach parties and picnics on the Brenta, and treasure-hunts in the back streets and mazes of riva and calle and campo —the quays and alleys and squares where feet were the only transport and handcarts the only vehicles. Towards the end of their stay they brought to Dinah the problem of their return of hospitality. They simply must give a party. But how? If they suggested holding it at the Palazzo d’Orio, did Dinah think Cesare would ‘play’?
‘If we arranged all the catering ourselves?’
‘If we hired a radiogram, so as not to use his, and people brought their own favourite discs.’
‘If we promised not to let the, scene get too rowdy?’
‘If we asked him and his precious Princess— which would be a bind, but we would—what do you thi
nk? And would you ask him for us?’ they wanted to know.
Without any experience of how Cesare was likely to react to the idea, Dinah demurred on the score of expense, upset to the household, the numbers they were likely to invite, and reminded them that the three of them were only there on Cesare’s condition that they make no demands on him. To all of which they countered that they still had some of Aunt Ursula’s money left, that they only wanted the use of the big salotto and the freedom of the kitchens for one night, that the numbers of the guests needn’t exceed twenty or— well, say twenty-four, counting themselves, and how could any such self-organised an affair make any trouble at all for Cesare? So would Dinah please ask him and see what he said?
Dinah did, and was surprised by his almost casual compliance, though he ruled there was to be no question of their catering or cooking for themselves.
Tomasa would never stand for it,’ he said. ‘Tell them to let her know numbers and the kind of things they want, and she will order the lot from Florian.’
‘I doubt if they can afford Florian’s stuff,’ said Dinah.
‘The bill can come to me.’
‘But it’s their party, and they want to pay for it.’ ‘Then let them pool the money they mean to afford, and I’ll take care of the rest. What about drinks?’
‘Their favourite tipple is Coke.’
‘Well, their Italian friends will expect some wine. Have Tomassa order some rosato. How, by the way, have they managed to collect this bevy about them in the time?’
‘I think they converged on the beach by some proces s of magnetic attraction. Like molecules, or whatever does that kind of thing in science,’ Dinah smiled. ‘By now they know some Germans and Swiss and some other English boys, as well as the original Italian family they got to know. They’re inviting you to the party, by the way.’
‘And you?’
Unable to resist the irony, Dinah said, ‘Oh, I shall be there in my role of Head Wardress, of course. Will you be accepting the invitation?’
‘I? Santo cielo, no! I shall arrange to have a cast- iron previous engagement, and I’d advise you to do the same.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’ On his way to the door, Cesare paused. ‘Tomasa and Giuseppe can mount guard to see that they don’t jump in the Canal for a swim, or throw in someone else, or break up the furniture, and I’m sure your Englishman would love to take you out for an evening on the town. Or are you showing off your determination to carry out my conditions to the letter?’
‘No,’ she said. I’m looking forward to enjoying it.’
He shrugged. ‘Good. I only wondered.’
The arrangements for the party went ahead, the number of accepting guests swelling to thirty before even the twins agreed that a halt should be called. The form of the evening was to be talk— some of it necessarily in sign-language—and dancing and a barbecue on the Pal azzo’s private side-quay. Seating in the salotto was no problem since everyone, Lesley asserted, was used to, and preferred, sitting on the floor. And it wasn’t going to be that kind of a party—where people went berserk and broke things up. What kind of hooligans did Cesare think they were?
Dress was informal. Besides the barbecue there was a buffet of cold ‘eats’. The radiogram would play continuously. There was no sitting-out area— couples who wanted to isolate themselves could take a walk along the quays.
The evening opened to rather a shy start, but as it progressed Dinah thought it must be proving the success that Jason and Lesley hoped. It was a polyglot affair, with four languages being spoken and with signs and mime to fill in the gaps. The dance music was the universal rhythm of ‘pop’ and its lyrics were shouted in chorus at full decibel rating.
In fact noise, Dinah realised amusedly, was the measure of the enjoyment being had by any group at any given time. They screamed, they yelled with laughter, they vied in shouting each other down, the Italians and the Germans the most strident of all. Dinah doubted whether, even at their age, her set had felt the need to be quite so raucous in proving to each other that they were having a good party. She was having a good one herself, but as the night wore on she did begin to crave a little pause. Not too much—not even a few minutes of blessed silence, but just a degree less din was all she asked.
She didn’t get it and, as she stood alone near the door while a conga snaked and curvetted round the room, the noise kept her unaware that Cesare had come in and was standing at her side. A clearing of his throat brought her head round in surprise. ‘I thought you meant to stay away?’ she mouthed, and he mouthed back, ‘And I thought I was safe—that it would all be over by now.’
She looked at the dancers. ‘In England congas are often a sign that the end is near,’ she encouraged him. ‘I know it’s late, but we’ve been having such fun that I haven’t had the heart to suggest breaking it up.’
‘It has been a success, then?’
‘Entirely, I think—except for one lack.’
‘Which is?’
She grimaced. ‘Ear-plugs for ears which would like to be used
again! They don’t seem to realise the power of their lungs, and
having to compete. I’m going to be as hoarse as a crow myself
tomorrow.’
‘Had you contemplated escape?’
‘No, and it will soon be over.’
‘But the idea appeals? Say a trip in the launch round the islands?’ he asked casually.
She stared at him. ‘With you?’
‘Well, you’d be exchanging one noise for another, but I promise you the hum of the engine wouldn’t match this racket.’
She was tempted; oddly excited. ‘Well...................’ she
hesitated, which Cesare took for assent and turned her about, a hand on her arm.
She hung back. ‘No, I must tell Jason...............’
‘Don’t stop the carnival.’ Cesare pointed to a couple sitting on an ottoman. ‘Give them the message, tell them to pass it on.’
There was no need to change out of the workmanlike trouser suit she was wearing, but as the jacket sleeves were short he advised a wrap, as it might be cold on the open water. As he helped her into the launch she found herself tempted to an impish, ‘What is this—a reward?’
‘A reward for what?’
‘For diligent attention to my duties, perhaps. In other words, for being a good nanny?’
He looked down at her as he took his seat at the wheel. ‘You do make a meal of a situation, don’t you? It hadn’t occurred to you that I couldn’t take that babble, and mere chivalry couldn’t leave you to it any longer?’ he queried.
Rebuked for ungraciousness, she knew she had asked for it.
CHAPTER FOUR
OUT on the open water all was quiet, except for the hum of the launch’s engine. So far out and so late there was little traffic; the lanterns on the stanchions which marked the sailing lanes shone out across pond-still water which, parting and churning to the passage of the boat, slid back afterwards to unruffled peace.
There was a crescent sliver of moon lying on its back, its young light not strong enough to dim the stars; a perfect night, its air fresh but not chill, a night which for atmosphere and scene, Dinah knew,
would remain etched on her memory.
She didn’t know whether Cesare expected her to make conversation, but at one point she mused idly and whimsically, ‘I’ve sometimes wondered, when all the city traffic stops, if it ever does, whether all the canals heave one sigh of relief that at last they can settle down to sleep. ’
Cesare said drily, ‘You could ask the same question of any autoroute, I suppose. Or any country lane.’
‘Of course.’
‘And get the same answer—that there’s never any complete peace for manmade highways; there’ll al ways be some busybody jogging along them for his own ends, creating a disturbance.’
‘As we are now, just for the sake of it?’
‘Speak for yourself,’ he retorted cri
sply. ‘I usua lly have some purpose to what I do.’
They had rounded the point of the mainland, leaving the airport to their port side, and presently the dark mass of the island of Murano lay ahead.
‘Our glass factory island. Have you been out to it?’ Cesare asked. ‘Yes, as part of my homework. In an emergency I might have to play courier to it. Plenair does a morning round trip to it and Torcello and Burano, and Trevor Land has been coaching me in a crash course on their history.’
‘H’m. Business before or after pleasure?’
She deliberately misunderstood the oblique taunt. ‘You could say, I think, that for him business is pleasure. He loves his work. ’
‘You too?’
‘I think I’m going to,’ she said.
‘When do you start at your office?’
‘At the end of next week, after Jason and Lesley have gone.’ Presently she broke a silence to say, ‘I know you have a tremendous number of interests yourself, but I don’t really know what you do.’
‘I manage things.’
‘Things?’
‘The businesses my father made his money on, and some others I have add ed since.’
‘Such as?’
‘M’m—fabrics for export, Burano lace, merchant banking, an emergent film company, I have a direc tor’s foot in some hotels ’ Dinah affected awe. ‘All those since you took over the companies your father left to you?’
‘Not all of them. He had worked up a substantial home trade in silk and leather and glass. Only the export angle has been my addition to them.’
‘And hotels?’ For some reason she felt a little heady, disposed for argument. ‘You surprise me! Now I’d have thought you would despise them as conveyor-belts for tourism.’
As if determined against being ruffled, Cesare said, ‘Other people than tourists use hotels—business men, politicians, permanent residents. And none of us despises the tourists’ money. It’s manna from heaven which pays for other things.’
‘So it’s only the tourists themselves you dislike?’ ‘Not even them. I only want the balance kept be tween my city’s traditional role and its new one.’ Dinah sighed. ‘You do want things both ways, don’t you?’