Not Just a Convenient Marriage

‘You’ve met Nora,’ he said. ‘She runs the house and she’ll show you around.’

Sally thought she detected a puzzled look in the housekeeper’s eyes, after the way they had met. But she greeted her cordially and showed her to a room on the ground floor.

‘You can be comfortable here until dinner is served,’ she said. ‘There is a bathroom next door.’

The room was magnificent, with furniture that looked antique and expensive. On one wall was a large picture of a woman luxuriously dressed in eighteenth-century clothing. Gold hung around her neck, and much care had clearly been lavished on her appearance.

Probably to impress the man who had paid for it, Sally thought.

‘Who is that?’ she asked Nora.

‘That was the Duchess Araminta Leonese, three hundred years ago,’ Nora said with a smile. ‘She was a very notable woman. The duke married her in the face of much opposition. His family wanted him to marry an aristocrat, but he said it had to be her and nobody else.’

‘Wasn’t she an actress?’ Charlie said.

‘She was a lady of the stage. And in those days—’

‘In those days that was a big scandal,’ Sally mused.

‘Oh, yes. Very big,’ Nora agreed.

As she turned to leave Charlie murmured to her, ‘I could murder a drink.’

‘Follow me, signore.’

They departed together.

On the wall was a mirror where Sally could study her appearance. Her jacket was a mess. The clothes beneath it were undamaged but they were plain and frugal, and she felt self-conscious at how they would look in these wealthy surroundings. But then she thrust the thought aside. Everything was happening out of her control, and it was pointless to worry about it.

She went to the window, which had a small balcony overlooking a narrow canal where she could see a gondola making its way along the water. Smiling, she turned back into the room.

Then she froze at the sight that met her eyes.

The figure standing there was small but alarming. It had a monstrous head. Horns reared up from the forehead, the eyes were huge and threatening, and the great nose was more like a beak. This terrifying creature had crept into the room unnoticed, and now stood there in a silent, deadly challenge.

At last it spoke.

‘It’s only me,’ said Pietro.

CHAPTER TWO

FOR A MOMENT Sally couldn’t take it in. Her head was spinning too fast to think.

Then the creature removed the alarming mask, revealing Pietro’s face.

‘It really is you.’ She gasped, sitting down suddenly.

She guessed she should have thought of the child when she saw the apparition was so short, but the stunning effect of the face had driven everything else out of her mind.

‘Did I make you jump?’ he asked.

‘Just a little.’

He came close, smiling in a cheeky, friendly way that dispelled the last of her alarm.

‘I just wanted to show you my mask,’ he said.

‘It’s—very effective,’ she said with feeling.

‘Yes, I’m going to wear it for the carnival. Everyone dresses up. I’ve got several masks but I think this is the best.’

He put it back on, turning the monstrous face towards her with an air of triumph.

‘Aaaaaargh!’ she cried, throwing up her hands in a theatrical pretence of terror that made him laugh with delight.

‘What’s going on?’ Damiano demanded from the door. ‘Pietro, what are you up to? You should know better than to scare our guest twice in one day.’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’m strong enough for anything,’ Sally declared.

‘You may need to be if he’s going to get up to his tricks.’

‘But that’s what boys are for, getting up to tricks,’ she protested. ‘If they behave too well it’s no fun.’

‘Then I can promise you plenty of fun,’ Damiano said with an ironic glance at his son. He pointed to the door. ‘Out! And behave yourself, if you know how.’

When Pietro had vanished Sally said, ‘If he does know how I bet he’d never admit it to you.’

‘That’s hitting the nail on the head. I must leave you for a moment to make an urgent phone call, but when you’re ready the dining room is just across the hall. They’re already laying the table.’

He departed, and a few minutes later Charlie entered, rubbing his hands.

‘We’ve really fallen on our feet,’ he said gleefully.

‘Yes, they’re lovely people,’ she agreed.

‘That’s not what I meant. This guy has money. We can have a great time here!’

She regarded him wryly. It was clear Charlie’s acquisitive side was rearing its head.

‘Charlie, I know your idea of a great time,’ she said tersely. ‘Just try to behave yourself.’ A sudden impulse made her add, ‘If you know how.’

‘But I don’t,’ he said with an air of innocence. ‘I never have, according to you. And now we’re in Venice, you don’t expect me to behave myself here, do you?’

‘Whatever I was thinking of to bring you to the great pleasure city I can’t imagine.’

‘You wanted me to have fun, and I’m going to show my appreciation by having the best fun ever.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Now push off while I make myself ready for the evening.’

‘But you haven’t brought any extra clothes with you.’

‘No, but I can try a little make-up.’

If it would make any difference, she thought, self-mockingly. In this beautiful place she was more than ever aware that her looks were commonplace.

Many women would have envied her slim figure but she regarded it askance.

A bit too slim? she thought. Thin? Perhaps. Frank used to say he liked me that way, but the creature I saw in his arms had luscious curves and they were all on display. Ah, well! What does it matter now?

She made up as elegantly as possible but she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that the Duchess Araminta on the wall regarded her with disapproval. Nora had hinted that she was a courtesan, a woman who’d spent her life enticing men, and the message she seemed to send out to Sally was, Is that the best you can do?

‘Yes, it is,’ she replied defiantly. ‘We can’t all be great beauties.’

Soon there was a knock at her door and Pietro presented himself in another mask. This one wasn’t alarming, but cheeky, leaving his mouth free. He took her hand and they went to the dining room together, followed by Charlie and Toby.

Supper was a collection of fine Venetian dishes. Damiano was attentive, asking her several times if he could get her anything. She revelled in it, unable to remember when she had last been so spoilt, and determined to enjoy it to the full. She guessed the treat would not last long.

Charlie too was having the time of his life, plaguing Damiano with questions about things to enjoy in Venice.

‘There’s plenty to see,’ Damiano told him. ‘The palaces, the monuments—’

‘I meant something a bit livelier than that,’ Charlie said. ‘Places where things happen and you have fun.’

‘There’s La Fenice,’ Damiano mused. ‘I’ve been there many times myself and always enjoyed it.’

‘Do plenty of people go there?’ Charlie asked.

‘About a thousand every night.’

‘Oh, boy, what a place! What do they do when they get there?’

‘They sit quietly and watch the performance,’ Sally intervened before Charlie could make an even bigger ninny of himself. ‘It’s an opera house.’

‘Opera—? You mean—serious stuff?’ His tone revealed exactly what he thought of serious stuff.

‘Not necessarily,’ Damiano said. ‘Sometimes they perform comic operas. We might go to see one. I’ll arrange it if you like.’

Charlie gulped. ‘No need to go to any trouble for me,’ he said hastily.

Sally caught Damiano’s eye and smothered a laugh. It was clear that he had understood Charlie perfectly, and was enjoying teasing him. His quizzical look asked her if he’d got the situation right. She gave him a brief nod.

‘This food’s terrific,’ Charlie said, with the air of someone changing the subject at all costs.

‘I’ll tell the cook you said so,’ Damiano said. And the moment passed.

Pietro made the evening delightful. He’d taken a shine to Sally after the way she’d defended him and Toby. Especially Toby, who was allowed to stay curled up under the table, from where he could be fed titbits.

‘Can you really eat in that mask?’ she asked the boy. ‘I know it doesn’t exactly cover your mouth but it doesn’t look comfortable.’

His reply was to bite a sausage, which he only just managed.

‘All right,’ she laughed. ‘I guess I don’t understand masks. What does this one make you?’

‘A monkey,’ Pietro said ‘But I’ve got another one that makes me a mouse.’

‘I’d like to see that. But not now,’ she added quickly. ‘Finish your supper first.’

Giving a quick glance at his father, Pietro replied with a studied air of obedience that didn’t fool her for a moment.

‘Yes, signorina.’

‘Oh, please, not signorina. My name is Sally, and that’s what I like my friends to call me.’ She added anxiously, ‘We are friends, aren’t we?’

Pietro nodded eagerly, and returned to eating. But before long he began chatting again, so that it was hard for anybody else to get a word in edgeways. Occasionally there was a mild protest from his father, but on the whole Damiano seemed inclined to be indulgent. Once he mentioned bedtime, but Pietro’s cry of, ‘Please, Papa,’ was enough to make him retreat. Yet at last even Pietro was unable to hide the fact that he was falling asleep.

‘Go along,’ said his father. ‘Say goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, Papa.’ Pietro turned to Sally. ‘Goodnight, Sally.’

‘Goodnight, Pietro. Goodnight, Toby.’

‘Will you be coming back to see us again?’

‘Yes,’ Damiano said at once. ‘She will.’

But Pietro’s clasp on her hand tightened as though he was still uncertain.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘why don’t I come up with you and we’ll say goodnight up there?’

He nodded.

‘Go on,’ Damiano said gently.

He gave his father a brief hug, then seized Sally’s hand again. Together they went upstairs.

As soon as she went into Pietro’s room she saw two large photographs on the sideboard. Both were of women. One had a beautiful, gentle face. The other was reasonably good-looking, but with a face that was intelligent rather than charming. She guessed these were Damiano’s two wives.

When Pietro was in bed she opened her arms. He hugged her enthusiastically before snuggling down.

‘You really will come and see us again, won’t you?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

She stayed with him until his eyes closed. Then she kissed his cheek and crept quietly away.

She found the dining room empty. At the far end was an open door that seemed to lure her on. She went to explore and found herself in a room with many windows overlooking the canal. Damiano was there, sitting near a floor-length window that led out onto a small balcony. He made a gesture indicating the chair beside him.

‘I hoped you would join me,’ he said, raising his wine glass. ‘So I came prepared.’

He pointed to a second glass on the table, and began to fill it with rosé wine.

‘Later in the year we could sit out there on the balcony,’ he said. ‘But the forecast is more rain.’

‘What’s happened to Charlie?’ she asked.

‘He’s in the next room, watching television. There’s a good soccer match on. It’ll keep him happy for a while.’

Thus leaving them in peace to talk without him. That was the unspoken message, and she was glad of it.

‘You really caught him off-guard, talking about opera,’ she said.

‘Yes, whatever he came to Venice for, it wasn’t that.’

‘However did you guess?’ She chuckled, and he joined in.

‘But why did he come here? He strikes me as a bouncy young man who doesn’t go in for sightseeing.’

‘True,’ she sighed. ‘He was getting a bit too bouncy. He’s only eighteen and—well—’

‘I understand. I’ve got a younger brother who often makes me tear my hair out. And I wasn’t a saint at eighteen either.’

‘And now?’ she couldn’t resist teasing.

‘Certainly not! Go on telling me about Charlie.’

‘He went a bit too far so I seized him by the scruff of the neck and told him to obey me.’

‘Obey you? I thought you said you were his sister, not his mother.’

‘That’s right, our parents died years ago. In some ways you could say I am his mother. He’s been in my care since he was eleven.’

‘Don’t you have any family to help? Uncles, aunts, grandparents—?’

‘None. Charlie’s the only family I have.’

He frowned.

‘Does that mean caring for him has denied you any existence of your own?’ he asked. ‘No career, nothing?’

‘Oh, no, I have a career as an accountant, and now that he’s older I can give it more time. At the moment I work freelance, so I can make my own hours, but soon I think I’ll have a very good job with a big firm. My interview went well, and I’m crossing my fingers.’

‘But is that all you have? You’re not married?’

‘No.’

‘And there’s no—forgive me, I don’t mean to pry, but surely there’s a man at home in England, waiting for you to have the time to marry him?’

‘No,’ she said wryly, thinking briefly of Frank before consigning him to nothing.

‘No emotional life at all?’ Damiano mused in a tone that gave nothing away.

‘I’ve had moments, but they didn’t amount to anything,’ she said, trying to sound casual.

‘The men didn’t meet your high standards?’

‘Or I didn’t meet theirs. That’s just as likely.’

‘So now all the hopes of your life are concentrated on the job?’

‘Signore—’

‘Wait. Enough of that. You told my son that you didn’t like formality. Your friends call you Sally. My friends call me Damiano.’

‘Damiano,’ she mused. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before.’

‘My enemies would tell you it suits me. It comes from the Latin word Damianus, which means to conquer and subdue. It can even mean to kill.’

‘Your enemies? Do you have many?’

‘A respectable number.’

‘Respectable?’

‘I’m a businessman. If you don’t annoy a few people along the way you’re not doing it properly.’

‘So you’ve annoyed enough people to feel proud. You face each other, you conquer and subdue them, and they go off saying, “I’ll make Damiano sorry. Damn him!”’

He grinned. ‘I see you know how it’s done.’

‘Do they ever actually manage to make you sorry?’

‘Would I admit it if they did?’

‘I’m learning all the time. I must remember what you’ve taught me. It could be useful in my own business life.’

‘Here’s to you.’

He raised his glass. She raised hers and they clinked.

From below came the sound of singing. Damiano opened the door to the balcony and ushered her out. Now they could see a gondola gliding along the narrow canal below them. A young man and woman sat holding each other, lost in the delight of their love, their surroundings, and the gondolier singing behind them while propelling the boat.

As the song ended he looked up, saw them and called out, ‘The world belongs to lovers.’

‘Yes,’ cried the loving couple. ‘Yes, yes.’

They waved upwards, saluting the two on the balcony.

‘Oh, dear,’ Sally said. ‘They think—’

‘It happens all the time in this city, especially in winter when lovers come here for the magical peace and quiet. Please don’t be offended.’

‘I’m not offended,’ she said quickly.

There could be no offence, she thought, in being thought the lover of this handsome man. Luckily she was armoured, or she might have been in danger.

‘But why did the gondolier say it in English, not Italian?’ she asked.

‘His passengers must be English. It’s intriguing how many tourists come from your country. They seem so cool and restrained on the outside, but Venice brings out another side of them—one they usually prefer to hide, or even didn’t know they had.’

As if to prove him right the couple in the gondola were sharing a passionate kiss as they drifted away. Further ahead the little canal broadened out into the Grand Canal, from which came the noise of music and cries of delight. As they watched a vaporetto went past, crowded with excited passengers, some of them singing, some cheering.

‘It’s almost as though Venice has two different personalities,’ she said. ‘So quiet and gentle at one end of this little stretch of water, so exuberant at the other end.’

‘You’re right. But it’s not just two different personalities. A dozen, perhaps a hundred.’ He shepherded her back into the room, adding teasingly, ‘Like the English, really.’

‘You obviously think you know a lot about the English.’

He showed her back to her chair, and sat beside her. Suddenly he was no longer joking.

‘I know I like them,’ he said quietly. ‘My first wife came from your country, and I see her in Pietro. It’s a side of him that I encourage.’

‘Is that why he speaks my language?’

‘Yes, I’ve raised him to be bilingual.’

‘He must be very bright to speak it so well while he’s so young. He’s a lovely child.’

‘Yes, he is. There’s something I want to say to you. Thank you for making him so happy. It means a lot to me to see him laughing and playing as he’s done today.’

‘Doesn’t he do so often?’

‘Sometimes he seems merry, but it never lasts very long. He’s haunted by the feeling that two mothers abandoned him. As I mentioned earlier, his real mother died before he could know her. His stepmother simply left him.’

‘Poor little soul,’ Sally murmured. ‘Does she never contact him at all?’

‘Never. She said that he would be better off if she was completely out of his life. But it was just for her own convenience, not for Pietro’s sake. She never loved him. He has only me.’

‘And he’s everything to you, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. Both for his own sake and because—’ His voice died.

‘Because of his mother?’ she urged gently.

He nodded.

‘Because of Gina,’ he said quietly. ‘We had such a little time together. Pietro was born a month prematurely. It killed Gina and the baby himself nearly didn’t survive. In her last hours Gina was wild with terror, fearing for him. She had no thought for her own danger, only his. I held her in my arms, begging her not to leave me, but I knew it was useless. She was being snatched away by a power beyond her control, and only her baby mattered. So I swore to her that I would care for him and protect him all the rest of my life. Nothing would matter but his happiness.’

Sally had a strange feeling that the world had changed. Even the universe. This city, which was like nowhere else, might be the answer, but she sensed something more. The man sitting close by, talking in a soft voice, had been known to her for only a few hours. Yet he was confiding in her in a way that said she was not a stranger, but someone to whom he felt close, because that was what he wanted to feel.

She tried to tell herself to be sensible, but common sense had gone into hiding.

‘Did your promise comfort her?’ she asked.

‘I thought so. She whispered, “God bless you,” so perhaps it did for a brief moment. Then—she tried to say something else. But she choked and couldn’t speak. In her last few moments she was desperate to tell me something, but she died before she could say the words. Now I’ll wonder all my days what she wanted to say that was so important.’

‘But surely, in your heart you know what it was,’ Sally said. ‘She wanted to say that she loved you. It couldn’t be anything else but that.’

He raised his head and she saw in his eyes a smile that made her heart turn over. There was a warmth in it that felt as though he was reaching out and touching her, enveloping her in some feeling she’d never known before: a feeling that she wanted to know for ever.

‘I think,’ he said softly, ‘that you must be the kindest person in the world.’

‘No,’ she said, suddenly self-conscious at the strength of her own feelings.

‘Don’t tell me that you’re not kind. I wouldn’t believe it.’

‘You don’t really know me.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do. I knew you as soon as we met in the Piazza San Marco.’

The air was singing about her ears and she was at a loss for an answer. Part of her had the same feeling, that she knew him as though they had been acquainted for ever. But another part said exactly the opposite: that here was a man of mystery and contradictions; that she might know him all her life, yet never understand the first thing about him.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice was whispering that it might be intriguing to follow that path, seeking the man he really was, perhaps finding him, and then—

Abruptly she closed off the thought, wondering what possessed her to give it even a moment. Soon they would say goodbye and he would cease to exist. Which would surely be a good thing.

Her next words seemed to come of their own accord, without any conscious decision.

‘You think you know me,’ she said, ‘but I don’t even know myself. I often believe I do, but then I discover I was wrong.’

He smiled.

‘Most of us could say the same. I’m convinced you’ve come to the right place. I promised Pietro that you would visit us again, which was rather impolite of me without asking you first—’

‘I forgive you,’ she said with a smile. ‘You couldn’t have asked me first, in front of him.’

‘Thank you. You’re a lady of great understanding. So when you come for your next visit we’ll spend a little time together and—who knows? I may manage to introduce you to yourself.’

There was a hint of teasing in his voice, but also a hint of temptation, leaving her free to choose which one to follow.

But it was an impossible choice; one she didn’t feel ready to make.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of bells from the clock tower in St Mark’s.

‘Goodness, is that the time?’ she said, checking her watch. ‘I had no idea it was so late.’

‘Yes, time can slip past when you’re thinking of other things,’ Damiano agreed quietly.

Suddenly there was a noise overhead. They both tensed with surprise, and looked up to find Pietro looking down at them from an upstairs window.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘You should be in bed,’ Damiano told him in an unsteady voice.

‘I wanted to see Sally,’ he said cheekily. ‘Are you all right, Sally? Is Papa looking after you properly?’

‘He’s doing his best,’ she said in a voice that was also a little unsteady. ‘But it’s time I was going home.’

‘I’ll call my driver,’ Damiano said. ‘We’ll take you back to your hotel.’ He took out his cell phone and said a few words in Italian.

‘He’ll be here in a couple of minutes,’ he said when he’d hung up.

Sally raised her head, meaning to say goodbye to Pietro, but to her surprise he’d vanished and his window was closed.

They collected Charlie and the three of them headed for the door, where a surprise awaited them. Pietro stood there, fully dressed.

So that was why he’d backed away from his window so quickly, Sally thought.

‘What are you doing here?’ Damiano demanded. ‘You’re supposed to be in bed.’

‘But we’re going to take Sally home,’ Pietro said. ‘We’re her friends. We should all go with her.’

‘Very well,’ Damiano conceded, opening the door. As Sally passed him he murmured, ‘At least my son has manners. He likes you so much he wants to be the perfect host.’

‘Oh, come on,’ she chuckled. ‘When you were his age, didn’t you seize any chance to stay up late?’

‘Yes, I suppose that’s it. All right, let’s get going.’

He helped her into the motor boat. Charlie and Pietro got in, and they began the journey down the narrow waterway into the Grand Canal. At this time of night it was still brilliantly lit, and music floated towards them from a distance. It felt like drifting through another world.