Chapter 2 #2
As we passed under the Rialto Bridge, I could see from the mass of figures up there that it was absolutely packed with humanity, as were all the narrow lanes and streets that appeared from time to time between the magnificent palazzi.
I spared a thought for Oscar. It looked to me as if Venice was no place for a dog.
We had been travelling for ten minutes already, and I still hadn’t spotted a single green open space.
Yes, Oscar would have loved the water – although I did wonder how clean it could be with so many buildings and people surrounding it – but I had the feeling I would struggle to find him somewhere to run around if he were to accompany me next time I came here.
For humans, on the other hand, as long as they didn’t mind crowds, it was a stunning place.
Mary continued to produce place names for me until we reached what looked like an intricate wooden bridge spanning the canal.
‘That’s the Galleria dell’Accademia over there to the right.’ She pointed ahead, through the arch of the bridge. ‘I visited the gallery last week and it’s packed with masterpieces by some of the most famous Venetian artists of all time like Titian and Canaletto.’
I filed that information away to pass on to Anna – although she probably knew this already – and decided to bring the conversation back to Mary’s employer. ‘Does Miss Graceland give you some decent time off?’
She nodded. ‘I certainly can’t complain about my working hours.’
The way she said it, I got the feeling she might have complaints about other aspects of her job. I didn’t spend thirty years as a detective for nothing, so I gave her a gentle push. ‘What’s it like working for such a cinema legend?’
A shadow flitted across her face for a fraction of a second before she replied with an air of assumed positivity.
‘It’s an amazing opportunity for me. I’ve just finished a doctorate in media studies – my thesis was on powerful female figures of TV and cinema.
As you can imagine, Miss Graceland is one of the most significant.
Like I say, it’s a terrific opportunity.
’ Her voice tailed off a bit at the end, and I couldn’t help giving her another prompt.
‘A terrific opportunity but…? Is the job maybe not quite what you were expecting? Is Miss Graceland not what you were expecting?’
Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment, I thought she was going to give me an honest answer, but then she just produced a little smile. ‘I’m not sure what I was expecting, really. But she’s been very kind to me, and it’s a real privilege being able to work with an actor of her stature.’
I didn’t blame her for her reticence. She didn’t know me from Adam, and if she had opened up to me about any doubts, she had no way of knowing whether I would go running to her employer to pass on the information.
I smiled back and transferred my attention to a gondola that emerged from a very narrow side canal and glided sedately directly across the Grand Canal, somehow managing to avoid being bulldozed out of the way by the succession of far bigger vessels travelling up and down.
I filed Mary’s hesitation away for future reference.
It sounded as though Alice Graceland maybe wasn’t the easiest of employers, but I had heard enough about spoiled Hollywood stars not to be surprised by this.
At that moment, we emerged from the Grand Canal into a much wider waterway, and Mary was quick to change back to tourist guide again.
‘On the right are the islands of San Giorgio Maggiore and Giudecca, and up ahead on the left, you can see the famous belltower, and in a few moments, we’ll be able to see into St Mark’s square.
Check out the Palazzo Ducale and St Mark’s Basilica, the cathedral.
It’s one of the most iconic views in the world.
Every time I come past here, I imagine how life must have been for the Doge, the overall ruler of the Republic, back in medieval and Renaissance times. ’
I stood and gazed in silent awe at the view.
All along the quayside to our left, there were glossy, black gondolas moored against wooden posts, while behind them was a symphony of white stone buildings with countless columns, arches, statues, domes and spires.
Towering above everything was the red brick and white marble campanile with a golden archangel Gabriel at the very top, but with the winged lion, the symbol of Venice, proudly displayed at the top of the facade not far below the angel.
I had seen it numerous times in photos and on TV but seeing it at first-hand was stunning.
Equally stunning was the mass of people filling the square.
There must have been thousands of tourists milling around there, and I spared a thought for ordinary Venetians trying to go about their daily work.
Certainly, being a postman trying to do his rounds here was likely to take considerable patience.
The water became slightly rougher as we left the Grand Canal behind us and emerged into the open waters of the lagoon.
Ahead of us was a long spit of land covered in buildings that Mary told me was the Lido – effectively the barrier separating Venice from the Adriatic sea beyond.
At first, it looked as though we were going to be heading there, but I was in for a surprise.
As we approached a small island to our right, more like a fortress built of red bricks with walls the height of a two- or three-storey house, Diego, our driver – or should that be our captain?
– slowed the engine, spun the wheel and turned towards it.
He drew up alongside a stone jetty below what looked like the only entrance to the fortress – an arched doorway set in the massive walls – and he expertly moored up behind a smaller wooden boat with its outboard motor tilted up out of the water. Mary shot me a triumphant glance.
‘I said it would be a surprise, didn’t I?
This is one of a number of fortifications built to defend the city.
This one dates back to the fourteenth century and its Italian name is the Isola dei Cigni, literally the Island of the Swans.
Miss Graceland bought it two years ago and the builders only finished the total renovation and restructuring of the place last winter.
You wait – it’s amazing inside.’ She sounded understandably impressed.
She was right to be impressed. I certainly hadn’t been expecting a private island, and for a moment, I found myself thinking of numerous James Bond movies involving evil villains intent on world domination living on private islands.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t find Miss Graceland stroking a Persian cat and threatening to feed me to her pet sharks, piranhas or alligators.
I gave Mary a smile. ‘I’ve come across some amazing villas and castles in Tuscany, but nothing to compete with this. Fancy having your own island…’
I followed her out onto the jetty, and she led me to the arched entrance.
‘Welcome to the Swan’s Nest, Mr Armstrong.’