Chapter 2
‘Oh, mia principessa , look at you!’
‘Do you like it, Papà?’
Eight-year-old Daniela DiMaggio spun round in giddy circles, her long skirt flaring out, clearly proud and excited. She was wearing a traditional Carnival dress in pink and white, with a silver mask and an incongruous plastic tiara that she’d spontaneously added.
Her father, Marco, sighed as he watched her, feeling a mixture of delight and sadness. She looked wonderful, her personality and style developing every single day, and she was growing up so fast. Tonight was her first Carnival party; yet another milestone that her mother, Stephana, wouldn’t be there to see.
‘My darling, you look beautiful,’ Marco said, suppressing his emotions.
‘I can’t wait for Sofia’s party. She’s going to have music and dancing and games. And look, this afternoon, Rosina and I made frittelle .’ Daniela bounded over to pick up the
box on the kitchen table. ‘Here, try one. We put slices of apple in them.’
Marco picked up one of the fried doughnuts, a traditional Venetian Carnival delicacy. ‘Mmm, these are delicious. I think I might have to steal them for myself.’
Daniela giggled, her tiara wobbling on her head comically. ‘Naughty Papà, I’ll leave a few behind for you instead.’
Laughing himself, he straightened his daughter’s wonky crown as her nanny, Rosina, emerged from Daniela’s room. She was a stout woman in her sixties, and looked like a traditional Italian nonna , with greying hair pulled up in an untidy bun. She tutted, fussing around her jiggling charge. ‘Don’t forget your coat, Daniela, it’s cold outside.’
She’d been Daniela’s nanny for three years now, since shortly after the accident that claimed her mother’s life. It had quickly become clear that Marco couldn’t cope on his own after Stephana’s death; he needed to go back to work, to keep his business going, to make it a success for Daniela’s future, and he needed a stable, caring figure to help look after his daughter while he did so. Rosina had gone above and beyond, and taken the place of the real grandmother she lacked. Marco was extremely grateful to her. They both adored her.
‘Don’t you worry about a thing tonight,’ Rosina continued. ‘I’ll take Daniela to the party, then collect her once it’s finished, and bring her back and put her to bed. I’ll stay over in the guest room, so you don’t have to worry about rushing home.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But Papà, you have to start getting ready for your party, or else you’re going to be late. Come on,’ Daniela insisted, taking his hand and pulling him from his seat, dragging him along the corridor to his bedroom.
The apartment was large by Venetian standards, but each room was small and simply furnished, decorated in a traditional style with exposed stone walls, dark furniture, and polished wooden floors covered with rugs – though Daniela’s clutter strewn through every room gave it a warm and lived-in feel. Very little had been changed since Stephana’s death; Marco didn’t have the time or inclination to redecorate. The paint colours remained the same, the lampshades and curtains were the ones she’d chosen. They were growing a little shabby now, but Marco barely noticed; their familiarity was comforting.
In his room, his nobleman’s costume was hanging from the door of his antique wardrobe. Daniela went over to his chest of drawers, picking up one of the framed photographs that was displayed on the top. It showed her mother, Stephana, in a black and gold Carnival dress, Marco standing beside her with his arm around her waist, and the iconic vista of St Mark’s Square in the background behind them. The same costume Marco was wearing in the photograph now hung on the wardrobe. Daniela had chosen it because she wanted him to wear the same as he had in that happy moment with her mother.
She gazed at the photograph. ‘Do you think they have Carnevale in heaven, Papà?’
‘I’m sure they do, mia cara . The best. With as many frittelle as you can eat.’ He kissed her on the top of her head.
‘Are you excited for your party, Papà?’
Marco wrinkled his nose. ‘I don’t think it’s going to be as much fun as yours, I’m afraid. There’ll be lots of people talking about boring business, and it will probably be very dull. I’ll have to try not to fall asleep. In fact, I’m almost asleep now thinking about it,’ he confided in a whisper, pretending to nod off, making Daniela laugh again.
Marco was a senior partner at Elicotteri Conti – Conti’s Helicopters – a helicopter rental company that chartered flights for VIPs, organized sightseeing trips over the city, and had even provided choppers for movies. Marco himself was a trained stunt pilot, and his flying skills were in demand all over the world.
‘Don’t forget to take your blue eyes out, Papà!’
Marco laughed, remembering the blue contact lenses he was wearing changing the colour of his brown eyes. He was about to start a new project as a stunt double for Brad Redford, Hollywood’s biggest star. They had worked together before and had physical similarities, but the one thing they didn’t have in common was the same colour eyes. Brad was a stickler for detail. Marco had been trying out his new lenses ahead of the shoot to get used to them. ‘I’m bound to forget, bambina .’
It was an honour to be invited to the masked Guild Ball thrown by the prestigious Venetian Enterprise Guild, but Marco really didn’t feel like attending tonight. He was tempted to cry off, to head out into the city itself and get lost among the crowds while soaking up the atmosphere of Carnevale , but he knew he couldn’t. It was his responsibility to represent Elicotteri Conti.
‘Daniela,’ Rosina called. ‘Are you ready, bambina ? It’s time to leave.’
Daniela looked torn – she was eager to go to the party, but wanted to see her father in his costume.
‘You go, darling. I need to take a shower, then get ready. Have lots of fun.’
‘All right, Papà,’ Daniela said reluctantly. She put the photograph of her parents back on the chest, then she put her hand out and stroked Stephana’s face. ‘ Buona notte, Mamma, ’ she said cheerfully.
Marco watched her, overwhelmed with love for his daughter and amazed at her resilience. She looked more like her mother every day, with her jet-black hair and deep brown eyes, her olive skin and dimpled cheeks. It was a tragedy that she had to grow up without Stephana. A tragedy that he wondered if time would ever heal, for either of them.
‘ Ciao, Papà , ’ Daniela said, coming across to kiss him goodbye. ‘Have a good time at your party.’
‘You too, mia principessa .’
‘Don’t fall asleep!’
‘I won’t,’ Marco laughed.
He listened to the familiar sounds as Daniela got ready to leave, scrambling to find her shoes and her coat as Rosina gently chided her along. Then the front door slammed and everything went quiet, the silence ringing throughout the apartment. Marco sat for a few moments longer then, with a tangle of thoughts running through his mind, he headed for the shower.
‘Olivia!’
Olivia Booth swept into the grand lobby of the hotel in a cloud of Chanel No. 5, dressed head to toe in a cream suit, a set of diamond studs glistening in her ears and a vintage Tiffany she needed to get back to her apartment and prepare for Carnevale.
She lived in a beautiful old building in the Dorsoduro area of Venice, only a short boat ride away from the hotel, but a world away in terms of style and attitude. Where the White Palace was grand and prestigious, Dorsoduro was the university district. It had a laid-back, unpretentious feel, and was famed for its museums and galleries.
Gina’s apartment was plain and tidy; she worked such long hours that she rarely spent any time there. The flat was rented, and she shared the two-bedroomed place with her colleague, Vittoria, who was the head receptionist at the hotel.
Outside of work, Vittoria was brash, funny and outrageous, and she never failed to make Gina laugh, always able to draw out the fun side from her natural coolness. Though Gina could easily have afforded her own apartment, something grander in a more exclusive area, she adored living with Vittoria. Gina had made few friends in Venice, and rarely socialized with her colleagues, but she enjoyed Vittoria’s company, and the two of them had lived together for the past few years. Every week Vittoria tried to set Gina up with a different man, and Gina was always trying to get out of Vittoria’s matchmaking, insisting that she was married to her job and there was no time for love.
‘How was La Leonessa’s arrival?’ Vittoria asked with an expectant grin, as Gina walked into their apartment.
Gina raised an eyebrow. ‘As you’d expect, her arrival was a circus,’ she said, making Vittoria laugh wickedly. In truth, Gina didn’t want to talk about Lucia de Santis; she was hoping to avoid her as much as possible, and had designated Lucia her own personal attendant, one who would report directly to Gina. But given Lucia’s reputation as a demanding diva, it seemed unlikely her visit would pass without Gina being called upon to fulfil some outrageous demand herself.
‘What time is Leo picking us up?’ Vittoria asked.
‘He’ll meet us at the jetty in an hour.’
Leo was the hotel’s head boatman, and tonight he would take a group of White Palace guests out along the Grand Canal to Piazza San Marco, which was at the heart of the Carnival festivities. Gina, Vittoria, and a dozen other staff members would accompany the guests, stay with them if required, and escort them home shortly after midnight. The more adventurous could wander at liberty, free to get lost in the labyrinthine streets around the piazza and experience the thrill of the crowd. Although it was one of the busiest times of the year for Gina, she got to have some fun too.
‘How many guests are we expecting?’ Vittoria asked.
‘Thirty.’ Gina had recognized many of the names on the list she’d received earlier that day, repeat customers who she’d come to know well over the years. Olivia and Max would be there, and the Martins from Paris, who stayed whenever they were in the city, while Philippa Russo, of the famous wine dynasty, was bringing her teenage daughter, Carina, to experience her first Carnival. For the Japanese Abe family, it was their first visit to Italy, but they’d stayed many times at White Palaces across the world, and Gina had liaised with her counterparts overseas to learn their preferences and ensure their vacation went without a hitch.
‘The boat will be almost full,’ Vittoria commented.
‘And the hotel almost empty,’ Gina laughed.
‘You know that Leo has a crush on you, don’t you? Why won’t you let me set you up with him?’ Vittoria pouted.
‘Not this again!’ Gina threw a sofa cushion at her friend and rolled her eyes. ‘No boyfriends. I’m married to the White Palace, remember! Come on,’ Gina changed the subject. ‘Let’s go get ready.’
Gina headed through to her bedroom, which contained little beyond a heavy wooden sleigh bed, a wardrobe and desk. She liked to travel lightly through life, and didn’t feel the need to acquire possessions for the sake of it. When she’d arrived in Venice, she’d only brought one small bag – there’d been no trinkets or mementos from home. Well, apart from one …
Gina showered quickly, before blow-drying her short, honey-blonde bob, which she tied back and covered with an enormous white Marie Antoinette-style wig, which was at least six inches high and which Vittoria had to help her pin in place. Then it was time for the rest of the costume, and Gina gently lifted it down from where it was hanging on the back of her door, still unable to believe her good fortune; that she got to wear an incredible dress and take part in the Carnevale di Venezia.
She slipped it on, taking in her appearance in the mirror. She had to admit she looked spectacular. Her outfit consisted of a full gown of white and gold, handcrafted from silk and trimmed with Burano lace. The skirt was wide, with layers of petticoats, while the brocade bodice pulled her waist in and thrust her breasts upwards, a jewelled brooch nestling at her cleavage.
She was almost ready, just the last few items. Bustling across her room, the dress swishing pleasingly as she walked, she picked up the bracelet laid out on her dressing table. Her father had passed it down to Gina, telling her it had been her grandmother’s, and to take good care of it. The bracelet was made of Murano glass, a dozen circular beads in myriad shades of blue, like the Venice Lagoon, strung together on a silver chain. It was unlikely to be worth very much, but to Gina it was priceless. It was one of the few tangible memories of her father and grandmother – she didn’t even have so much as a photograph …
‘Are you ready, Gina? The boat will be here soon.’ Vittoria’s voice interrupted her thoughts as she called through the door.
‘Just a moment …’
It was time for the final – and most important – part of her costume. Her mask. She lifted it from the box on her dressing table, where it lay nestled inside layers of tissue paper that crinkled satisfyingly as she lifted it out, holding it up admiringly. The volto mask was a beautiful, papier-m a ch é creation designed to cover the whole face, exquisitely decorated with an intricate gold design that had been traditionally hand-painted. A length of gold ribbon trailed from either side. Gina reverentially placed it over her face, tying the ribbon behind her head to make it secure.
As soon as it was in place, Gina felt different. Far from hiding behind the mask, Gina felt the opposite – an unexpected sense of freedom. Ordinarily, she worked hard to hide her true self from the world, to conceal the secrets she carried with her. Behind the mask, she was safe to be herself; she felt powerful and untouchable.
As she turned, she felt the weight of the bracelet on her arm, and heard her mother’s words in her head: One day, my girl, the world will catch up with you.
Gina pushed the memory away. It was time to go, and she wasn’t going to hide any longer.