Chapter 4 #2
From where their boat was berthed at San Basilio, it was only a few minutes’ walk along narrow streets and up and over tiny bridges before Disa and Fen came to the larger wood and metal Ponte dell’Accademia, which crossed the Grand Canal.
By the time they reached it, Fen had already stopped at least fifty times to point her phone and take photos. At the highest section of the bridge, she was proving impossible to drag away.
‘One more,’ she protested, leaning over the balustrade and taking another dozen at least, as various boats and gondolas emerged from the shadows beneath the arch into bright sunshine.
Disa finally managed to lure her down the steps on the other side of the canal.
Her heart began to clamour in her chest as she led the way, without appearing to be leading the way.
Following the route she’d so carefully mapped out in her head, she was forced to pause every thirty seconds or so while Fen stopped to take yet another photo of a stone gargoyle, a slinking cat, a reflection in the water, or a class of tiny chattering children in matching yellow caps being guided by their teachers over a bridge.
Nearly there now; a bit further along the side of this narrow canal, then next left and round the corner to the right.
And here it was, exactly as it had looked in all the photos she had pored over online.
A pair of ornate iron gates stood open, surrounded by a profusion of greenery and leading into what looked like a secret garden.
To the right of the gates was a board bearing a handwritten menu, and outside the ivy-clad building were tables and chairs occupied by people eating and drinking, because this was La Lanterna di Rosa, even if the name on the sign was obscured from view by the low-hanging branches of the tree at the entrance.
‘Look at that,’ Fen exclaimed, catching up with her and – surprise, surprise – taking five or six more photos. ‘Gorgeous!’
‘Doesn’t it look nice?’ Having always prided herself on being an effortless liar, Disa was belatedly discovering it rather depended on the importance of the lie.
It was a wonder Fen couldn’t hear her heart thudding.
She pretended to peer at the menu, despite not being able to see it without her reading glasses, and said casually, ‘Shall we stop for a rest, have something to eat?’
Fen gave her a puzzled look. ‘We only ate on the ship an hour ago. And we’re having dinner at seven.’
‘I know, but I thought you might be peckish. They do small plates here. Or we could have a drink? Are you thirsty? I’m quite thirsty.
’ For goodness’ sake, woman, stop babbling.
Her voice was sounding weird now, higher-pitched than usual.
She should have done this alone, but Fen had been keen to come ashore with her and explore.
‘Fine, we’ll have a drink,’ said Fen. ‘Quick, those men are leaving, let’s grab their table.’
They were here. Too late to back out now.
A young waiter speedily cleared the table and invited them to sit.
The waitress emerging from the restaurant with a tray of drinks was in her forties and Italian.
Disa began to breathe more easily and ordered a couple of glasses of orange juice.
After all this pent-up anticipation, today clearly wasn’t the day after all.
‘Excellent tablecloths.’ She stroked the crimson linen, then admired the many lanterns hanging outside the restaurant and in the trees surrounding them. ‘I bet this place looks magical at night.’
‘We could come here for dinner tomorrow evening,’ said Fen. ‘If you want.’
‘Maybe.’ Disa gave an offhand shrug. ‘We don’t always have to eat on the ship, do we? Let’s see how things go.’
The dining room on deck three opened at seven in the evening, and guests were welcome to sit anywhere they liked.
Two middle-aged couples, Fen saw, had bagged seats at Jamie and Leon’s table and the men were engaged in a lively conversation about rugby.
Her stomach did a little flip when Leon caught her eye as she and Disa passed by on their way to the other side of the restaurant.
What she was rapidly discovering was how sociable this trip was already proving to be.
Having returned from their brief exploration of the San Marco neighbourhood of Venice, they’d chatted on the sun deck to fellow guests from Australia, Brazil, California – and Slough.
Everyone was eager to get to know everyone else.
At pre-dinner drinks they’d met a couple of women who’d been best friends since they were eight years old.
Now in their late seventies, they’d been taking holidays together for almost half a century.
At dinner, they sat with a lively woman called Helena who was celebrating her recent divorce, a man called Horgan from New York whose husband had died two years ago, and Jeff and Gina, both teachers, who had been on many cruises all over the world and had first met at Paddington station, when they’d accidentally been allocated the same seat on a jam-packed train heading down from London to Penzance.
‘We had a huge row about it,’ said Gina.
‘She threatened to sit on my lap,’ said Jeff.
‘I needed the seat. I had a shocker of a hangover.’
Jeff said, ‘I had a broken foot!’
Disa was enthralled. ‘So what happened?’
‘By Reading, I’d decided I quite liked him,’ said Gina.
Jeff shrugged. ‘By Swindon, I thought maybe she was OK after all.’
‘By Bristol, I fancied him rotten.’
‘By the time we reached Penzance, I knew I wanted to marry her,’ said Jeff.
‘And I knew he had bony knees,’ Gina added, ‘because I was sitting on his lap. But we got married anyway, seven months later. All thanks to a ticket mix-up.’
Jeff winked at her. ‘Best ticket mix-up of my life.’
The food was superb, the wine magnificent.
Earlier, Fen had seen Leon swivel round in his chair as if searching for someone, then break into a grin when she caught his eye.
Helena and Disa, having discovered a mutual passion for art, were making plans to meet up and visit the Peggy Guggenheim Collection.
The next moment, a hand came to rest on her shoulder.
She looked up, and there was Leon, bending to murmur in her ear.
‘I’m not usually one for being forward, but if you fancy joining me for a drink on the top deck after dinner, I’ll be heading up there in a few minutes.
’ He paused, took a breath. ‘And if you don’t, that’s absolutely fine, please forget I even mentioned it. ’
The touch of his fingertips on her bare shoulder made Fen want to squirm with delight.
Did he really think she’d say no? It was crazy; when she’d woken up this morning, she hadn’t known he existed, yet now he was starting to feel like one of the most important people in her life. Then again, look at Gina and Jeff.
Who were in turn observing her and Leon with interest.
Disa said, ‘Darling, don’t worry about me. Helena and I are going to be in the bar discussing the life of the fabulous Peggy.’
‘Peggy Mitchell? From EastEnders?’ Leon winked. ‘Wasn’t she great?’
True to his word, he was up on deck waiting for her when she arrived ten minutes later.
Pausing at the top of the staircase, Fen drank in the sight of him in profile as he surveyed the view, and marvelled at the zing of pleasure coursing through her veins.
The sun was setting in the west, turning the sky a dozen deepening shades of apricot, and the first lights had started to come on in the buildings over on Giudecca Island.
Pulling out her phone, she took a few photos and made sure to include Leon in all of them.
Maybe once this holiday was over, she might choose one of them as her screensaver.
Without turning round, Leon said, ‘My ears are burning.’
She smiled, loving the sound of his voice. ‘I didn’t say anything, I was just thinking it.’
‘What were you thinking? Hope it wasn’t, “Oh, no, not him again.”’
Fen said, ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’
He turned, and her heart skipped a beat. She joined him on the blue and white striped two-seater sofa and he handed her one of the matching pair of drinks on the table in front of them. ‘Aperol spritz,’ he said. ‘I’ve never had one before, but apparently it’s a thing in Venice.’
‘I love an Aperol spritz.’
He touched his glass to hers, then took a sip and pulled a face. ‘God, that’s horrendous.’
‘I’ll have both of them.’
He shook his head, still grimacing. ‘I’ll order a beer in a bit. So, what’s the verdict so far?’
‘On Venice? Or the boat? Or you?’ The wine at dinner had loosened her tongue.
‘Whichever.’
‘All good.’ In case she was sounding like one of his friend Jamie’s fans, Fen said, ‘Dinner was excellent. Apart from no Scotch eggs, obviously.’
Leon laughed. ‘Shame we couldn’t have shared a table. Never mind, we’re here now. And I want to know more about you.’
The sky was darkening, the shades of vivid orange fading and blending with translucent greys as the sun disappeared.
‘What kind of stuff?’
‘Everything. All there is to know. Family. Death-row meal. Best friends growing up. Worst ever public humiliation. Most impressive party trick.’
So she told him about losing her mum to cancer seven years ago, followed by the departure of her dad a couple of years after that to a new life in Cape Town.
She confided her all-consuming love for tomato-ketchup-flavoured crisps, especially in sandwiches, although sandwiches made with plain crisps and tomato ketchup were the worst. Then she told him about her best friend, Tonia, who’d kept her going through the hard times, taught her how to dance, cook and apply false lashes, and had all but broken her heart when she’d moved to Amsterdam.
‘Your friend moving away was more traumatic than your father leaving to live in South Africa?’
‘We never had that much to do with him.’ Fen shrugged. ‘He wasn’t cut out for family life. Mum held everything together until she got ill. She was incredible, and pretty much raised me single-handed. Until it was my turn to look after her.’
Leon’s gaze was sympathetic. ‘You’ve been through a lot.’
‘Others have it worse. I’m fine. I have Disa. Her husband died twelve years ago, but he was wonderful too. I loved them both so much.’
‘That’s good.’ Leon nodded and brushed an insect from her arm, causing her skin to tingle. ‘And you and Tonia are still friends?’
‘We are. We visit each other a couple of times a year. She’s married now, to Hendrik, and has a toddler, Sebastian, with another baby on the way. Works in a fancy art gallery in the centre of Amsterdam three days a week. Charming husband, big house, dream life.’
‘Do you envy her?’
May as well be honest. Fen took a sip of her drink. ‘Sometimes, yes. She has it all, including silky-smooth hair. Even her parents are the best.’
Leon tilted his head and studied her. ‘Sometimes life isn’t fair.
But right now, you’re in Venice, drinking some bizarre drink that tastes completely repulsive if you ask me but for some reason you like it.
You’re up here on deck after a five-star dinner, watching the world go by.
’ He gestured to the vaporetto chugging its way past their mooring, and the speedboats bouncing over the darkening surface of the water.
‘Plus, you’re sitting next to someone who’s really glad he met you today.
He also happens to think you’re looking incredible.
So maybe this evening plenty of people would envy you. ’
He stopped himself, then smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.
‘God, sorry, sometimes I say stuff and it comes out all wrong. I’m such an idiot.
Jamie’s the smooth talker, the one who always knows how to get it right.
I just . . .’ He shook his head, took a distracted gulp of Aperol and pulled a face once more.
‘You just what?’ Fen held her breath.
‘Urgh, this stuff is so gross.’ He coughed and swallowed. ‘OK, I was going to say I feel as if I’ve known you for ever. I keep forgetting I haven’t and you probably think I’m barking mad.’
‘I’m not thinking that. And I’m glad I’ve met you.’ If he could be honest, so could she. ‘I was looking forward to this holiday anyway, but now I’m going to enjoy it even more.’
‘You could be bored with me by tomorrow.’
‘Pretty sure that isn’t going to happen.’ A waiter had appeared; Fen waited until he’d taken Leon’s request for a Peroni. Longing to discover more about him, she said, ‘And now it’s your turn to tell me everything about you.’