Chapter 8
Disa watched Jamie leave, then turned and retraced the route she and Fen had taken yesterday.
When she reached the shop, yes, the bag was still there on display in the window, elegant in its simplicity and the perfect shade of ballet-slipper pink.
Her heart leapt because not only had she genuinely admired it before, it was now providing her with an excellent reason to be back here, which made her love it even more.
But the church bells were chiming three o’clock, meaning she still had another hour to kill, so she took her time inside the shop, examining all the bags in all the colours to ensure hers was the absolute best. Having paid for it, she next visited another shop and chose a turquoise silk scarf for Fen, then a deep purple Murano glass necklace for Mary, the next-door neighbour back in Bristol who’d volunteered to water her garden while she was away.
Finally, at eight minutes to four, she returned to La Lanterna and loitered on the street outside, because in one of Molly’s previous online posts, she’d explained that her early shifts at the restaurant ran from eight until four, while the later ones meant working from four until midnight.
The moment the girl emerged through the open iron gates, Disa began limping dramatically. All she could do was hope that karma wouldn’t punish her for feigning two injuries in one day by causing her to trip and fall into the nearest canal.
‘Hello! Oh no, what’s happened?’ Molly’s gaze went to her foot, and Disa leaned against the wall to take the weight off it.
‘I’m an idiot, so busy looking in shop windows that I didn’t see the step and went over on my ankle. I broke it a few years back, so it’s been a bit dodgy ever since.’
‘You poor thing! Have you sprained it, do you think?’
‘No, no, it’s just sore. My own silly fault.’
‘And where’s your friend Jamie?’
‘He’s not here. I wanted to do some shopping on my own. It’s OK, once I’m on the ship, I’ll be fine.’
Molly looked concerned. ‘I can’t leave you here like this. Let me walk you back.’
‘Oh no, I can’t ask you to do that.’
‘You didn’t ask. I offered. Come on, lean on me. The last thing you need is to go over on it again and make things worse.’
‘Are you sure? But haven’t you just finished work?’
‘I have, and of course I’m sure. It’s not far. Here, take my arm. We’ll have you back in no time.’
Disa allowed herself to be supported. How could she ever have doubted this young woman?
But that was down to natural scepticism, born from decades of thinking the best of people.
Molly had seemed lovely in her blog – but then who didn’t?
Everyone presented themselves in the best light and neglected to reveal any less attractive aspects of their personality.
Similarly, working in a restaurant involved being charming and giving the customers excellent service.
But this was going above and beyond. Molly-in-Venice had proved herself to be a genuinely kind person, volunteering to help an injured older woman out of the sheer goodness of her heart.
It was the result she’d very much hoped for.
‘Tell me about your family back in England,’ she said, remembering to maintain her limp as they made their way back to San Basilio. ‘They must miss you, living over here.’
‘Hang on.’ Hattie frowned. ‘What are you doing on Tinder when we aren’t even at home?’
Kayla, out of the shower and preparing to do her make-up, said, ‘Because being on holiday is the best time! There’s no one I fancy on this boat – well, no one who fancies me back – so it makes sense to check out the local area, see if I can’t rustle us up a couple of fit Venetians while we’re here. You wouldn’t say no, would you?’
‘I’m not on Tinder.’
‘And that’s your first mistake. Haven’t I been telling you for months to get yourself on there? Look, this one’s an actual gondolier.’ She showed Hattie a photo and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. ‘Imagine having sex in a gondola!’
These days, Hattie was hard pushed imagining herself having sex anywhere at all.
Life hadn’t worked out the way she’d expected, and neither had her marriage to Guy.
She’d been too young, she accepted that now; they’d met when she was twenty-one and had married two years later because it seemed to be the logical next step.
And Guy had been great company, so it stood to reason they’d be happy together for ever.
Except he hadn’t turned out to be the world’s best husband.
An inveterate extrovert, he had loved to be out and about as often as possible.
He’d belonged to various clubs and social groups and had encouraged Hattie to go along to them with him, but she’d preferred spending time at home, and over the years the differences between them had grown more apparent.
They’d had less and less in common, and other people had liked to point out that married couples were supposed to do things together.
There hadn’t been one major rift at the end.
Guy hadn’t had an affair or anything like that.
He had just been a bit selfish – OK, sometimes quite a lot selfish – and had carried on doing all the things he enjoyed doing, while she had initially nagged at him, then discovered she hated to nag so had given up trying to force him to change.
They’d loved each other, but in the end that hadn’t been enough, and their relationship had run out of steam. Like a sparkler on Bonfire Night, it had simply ended up fizzling out.
Which had been disappointing, of course, but these things happened and Hattie knew she wasn’t the only thirty-year-old with a failed marriage behind her.
Plus she had Kayla and other friends to go out and about with, which was a bonus.
After taking a while to get over the break-up, she had imagined she would start socialising again, making the most of being single, then within two or three years would find someone new to settle down with, someone more suitable this time than Guy.
Except six years on, life hadn’t proceeded according to plan.
There had been some false starts, but the right man hadn’t come along and here she was, still single.
Not that she was desperate, but it would’ve been nice if he could have been here by now.
She had no idea who her eventual next partner might be, but he was definitely taking his time turning up.
Now, watching as Kayla slathered on primer, then reached for her bottle of foundation, she protested, ‘Everyone here on the ship is really nice, though.’
‘I know they’re nice, but some are old and most of them are couples, and the only really good-looking guys are gay. Apart from Jamie, but I’ve pretty much offered myself up to him on a plate and he’s obviously not interested.’
‘I saw you talking to him in the bar earlier. What happened?’
‘That was me doing the offering! I mean, he was being kind about it, but it was a definite no. And his mate Leon’s pretty cute, but it looks like he’s off the market now too.
No point flogging a dead horse.’ Kayla finished rubbing the foundation into her skin, then began energetically buffing blusher onto her cheeks.
‘I gave it my best shot, so now it’s time to move on to someone who will appreciate me for the total goddess I am. Like Angelo.’
Hattie studied the profile on the app. Angelo, the gondolier who’d matched with Kayla, was thirty-three years old and in his photo was wearing double denim and the kind of naughty grin that told you everything you needed to know about his personality.
‘You’re actually going to meet this guy? When?’
‘Tonight! Want me to ask him if he has a friend he can bring along?’
‘No, really. It isn’t my kind of thing.’
‘And that is the reason you’re single.’
‘So are you.’
‘But I’m having more fun.’ Kayla finished her eyeshadow and got busy with the mascara. ‘You don’t mind if I go, do you? Will you be all right here?’
‘I’ll be fine. You need to be careful, though. Meet him in public and don’t go back to his place, whatever you do.’
‘Yes, Mum.’ Kayla batted her sooty lashes, then drew on lipstick and blew her a kiss. ‘Now, big shirt and leggings? Or pink bandage dress?’
‘Shirt and leggings, definitely.’
She pulled open her wardrobe door and triumphantly reached for the short pink dress. ‘How did I know you were going to say that?’
Before dinner in the ship’s restaurant, Jamie gave a talk about his sporting career and his subsequent move into TV. It was well attended and he was an entertaining host, joking with the audience and encouraging them to join in. Without having expected to, even Fen enjoyed it.
But really, today couldn’t have gone any better.
Spending time with Leon had been so giddy-making, she was starting to panic inwardly, convinced something was about to happen that would bring it all down.
After dinner, they all headed up on deck, with groups of guests forming and re-forming as they got to know each other better.
Music drifted up from the band playing in the bar downstairs, lemon drop martinis were recommended by a lively octogenarian and discovered to be unbelievably delicious, and laughter rang out as the chatter grew noisier and more drinks were served.
‘Nice photo.’ Leon, who was following the ship’s account on Instagram, showed Fen one of her and Disa taken last night.
Then he scrolled to the next, of the excitable guest with spiky red and gold hair dancing with Jamie and evidently having the time of her life.
Holding up his phone, he addressed her companion as she walked past: ‘Has your friend seen this? Looks like she was enjoying herself. I don’t think I’ve seen her on the boat this evening. Is she around?’
‘Gone out on a hot date with a gondolier tonight. Look, sorry if Kayla was a bit OTT.’ The woman, whose name Fen belatedly remembered was Hattie, shook her head. ‘She gets carried away sometimes.’
‘Hey, don’t worry, Jamie’s used to it.’ Leon grinned. ‘Last week he was filling up his car at the petrol station and a woman wanted him to autograph her chest.’
Across the deck, a pair of burly rugby enthusiasts were talking to Jamie. Nodding in their direction, Hattie said, ‘Let’s hope those two don’t ask him to do that.’
Fen was intrigued. ‘How did she meet the gondolier? Did he take you for a ride earlier and ask her out?’
‘No, Tinder. I just hope he’s legit. He’s a few years younger than she is. I warned her to be careful, even offered to go with her, but she turned me down, said she didn’t need a chaperone.’
Fen pulled a sympathetic face. ‘Fingers crossed it’s OK.’
‘All good so far.’ Taking out her phone, Hattie showed them a video of her friend. ‘Here she is, sitting in a gondola being serenaded by her date. Having a whale of a time.’
‘And you’re left here on your own? If you want to join us, pull up a chair.’ But even as Fen said it, one of the other guests was approaching them, tapping Hattie on the shoulder and making her jump.
‘Hi there, can I borrow you?’ He was in his forties at a guess, a tad overweight but attractive, with a genial manner and a winning twinkle in his eye. Fen had seen him around the ship with an elegant younger woman who looked like a cross between a ravishing eagle and a hardcore fitness instructor.
‘Me?’ Hattie looked surprised. ‘Why? Where’s Suzanne?’
‘In the cabin. On the phone to her daughters, reading them a bedtime story. And I’d love it if we could have a quick word.’
‘Fire away.’
‘Maybe somewhere quieter?’
She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. ‘OK.’
‘It’s all right, we’ve met before.’ Having noticed the interested looks from Fen and Leon, the man said cheerfully, ‘She’s my ex-wife.’
‘Go on then,’ Hattie prompted when Guy had led her down to the secluded section at the very front of the ship. ‘What’s this about?’
‘Enjoying the holiday so far?’
‘Of course.’ It was five-star luxury in Venice. And it was free; who could ask for more?
‘Hattie, can I just say, you’re looking incredible. Really good.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. Something was up. ‘And?’
‘I have a tiny confession to make.’ He returned her look of suspicion with the kind of playful half-smile that rang a familiar bell.
When they’d been together, it had been the method he’d tended to employ in order to excuse any behaviour he’d known she wouldn’t like, such as staying out late, or forgetting to mention that he’d booked a golfing weekend away with his friends, or had bought a new car simply because he fancied a change.
When Guy decided he wanted to do something, he did it first and confessed afterwards.
‘Go on,’ Hattie prompted. Once, he’d gone out to buy her a birthday present and had come home with a slim silver bangle for her plus a Breitling watch for himself.
OK, that wasn’t fair; he hadn’t been ungenerous, and had more than made up for it a month later with a wonderful trip to Paris.
He’d just happened to fall in love with that expensive watch on that particular shopping trip and been unable to resist buying it.
If her impulsive ex-husband wanted something, he didn’t like to wait; he was very much a fan of instant gratification.
Guy said, ‘I kind of knew you were going to be on this trip.’