Chapter 4
Beth spent the rest of the afternoon in her small apartment.
As she’d suspected there would be seasonal front-of-house vacancies soon, but nothing on the curatorial side.
A quick look at vacancies further afield showed exactly what she’d been expecting: reduced opportunities due to budget cuts.
If she went home, she’d be looking at working in a different field and if she was going to do that back home in England, somewhere she didn’t particularly want to be, why shouldn’t she do it here, in Venice?
A city she’d loved from the moment she’d arrived.
Soon, she’d gone on to making budget spreadsheets.
She could afford to make a change if she wanted, thanks to some money her grandparents had given her after downsizing.
She’d tried to refuse it, but they’d insisted and instead she’d promised she would use it for something special.
The question now had to be: did she really want to do this?
This was an unplanned, totally different route that she hadn’t prepared for.
It would mean a new lifestyle, a new routine.
She also much preferred to be behind the scenes, but while she loved talking about books, would she be any good at it?
She’d also be throwing away years of study and hard work she’d put in to reach her current career level, and regardless of how much she loved books and liked the idea of running a bookshop, that left a nasty taste in her mouth.
The next morning, the sky was a bright cornflower blue, the clouds banking like bundles of cotton wool.
Beth left to walk to the book barge, feeling surer of her financial situation, if not her emotional one, and wrapped her smart camel-coloured coat around her, tightening the belt against the wind, but enjoying the way it brushed her skin as if it were blowing the doubts away.
She’d already let Signor Sanna know she was going to be late as she explored a new possible opportunity, and he was only too happy to give her another day off, telling her again how sorry he was and that she was to do whatever she needed.
The route she’d decided to take to the book barge took her through parts of Venice she hadn’t made the time to explore.
This time, she let herself be guided by some unknown force, a part of herself that she’d never tapped into before, that led her in whatever direction looked the most appealing.
It was freeing. She had plenty of time to get to the book barge and there was no more perfect time to explore the city than out of tourist season.
Once the spring hit, Venice became a go-to destination for city breaks and honeymoons, and it grew harder to move around so easily.
It was even busier in summer when the streets were packed so full of tourists, it was difficult to change direction, and you were swept along in whatever direction the traffic was moving.
But she loved the way the city felt alive when it was full.
Right now, the city was quiet, and she studied the historic red-brick houses, the pinks and creams of the buildings and the random sets of stone steps that led you up and down the different levels of the city.
Venice really was a wonder of the world, a tiny island of such cultural importance and utter beauty.
Veering down another strange alleyway she’d never seen before and which was only just wide enough for her to fit through, she ran her fingers over the rough stone walls on either side, the coarse brick dragging against her fingertips as she inhaled the chill salty air.
There were beautiful medieval doorways, Juliet balconies, window boxes that would bloom again soon once the spring came.
Some houses were adorned with crosses, others rustic, and all the time the water snaked its way through the city like veins through a body.
They were the lifeblood of Venice, even now, when they were quiet and empty.
Before long Beth was canal-side, nearing the book barge, and nerves coiled in her stomach.
As she approached, she noticed a few gondolas tied up either side, as they weren’t in use at this time of year.
It wouldn’t be long before the owners would be cleaning them out, beating the small rugs and cushions they put inside to make them more comfortable, ready for couples to snuggle together as they toured the city via its famous waterways.
Looking up, Beth’s eyes landed on the book barge and a spark of excitement pushed through the lingering anxiety.
Giambattista had described the owner as being too old to look after it, but she knew from her own visits that, on the surface at least, it wasn’t in too bad a condition.
It was a busy sight to see with books everywhere, stacked and shoved into every available space.
There was something homely about it, but Beth’s mind was already crying out to give the books some order.
The barge itself, though, just needed a bit of jazzing up.
It didn’t look like it was falling apart, but who knew what lurked underneath the piles of books.
Her breath hitched, worry tightening her chest and pressing down on her lungs.
Was she really considering doing this? The idea had only been mentioned yesterday morning and now, twenty-four hours later, here she was about to talk to the owner.
Cesca appeared at her side as she’d promised she would, and Beth almost stumbled as she also spotted Marco.
‘I like it,’ Cesca replied nodding. ‘It looks in good shape too. Nothing major to do.’
‘You could make this a good business,’ Marco added, his eyes meeting Beth’s and sending a shock down her spine.
‘Yeah, I …’ She took a deep breath. She hadn’t known he was coming and wondered what had made him. ‘I do like it, but …’
‘But?’ Cesca asked.
The simple fact remained that Beth Thorpe didn’t do spontaneous things.
It simply wasn’t how she was made. As far as she was concerned, impulsiveness led to mistakes and mistakes led to regret.
So far, thanks to reasoning and calculation, she’d avoided those feelings.
Sometimes it made her feel boring, but other times she was grateful.
She’d seen friends all through her life make rash decisions and then deal with the consequences.
Buying a book barge was a random, mad idea, and she almost turned on her heel and walked back to her flat.
But then, it wouldn’t be her flat for much longer, would it?
Because everything was changing whether she wanted it to or not, and here she was, staring at a boat filled with books, and she had to admit, she did quite like the look of the place.
‘But what?’ Cesca asked again.
Beth shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
The barge was moored close to the path and a small gangplank at one end led to an open door.
Running the entire length of the barge were open cabinets, the type that you see books sold from along the Seine in Paris.
She scanned the titles: a mixture of English and Italian, classics and modern, battered, second-hand fiction.
A few heavier reference books and non-fiction were mixed in along with children’s books and coffee table reads.
It was a mess, but an appealing one. An urge to tidy and organise niggled inside.
It always did when she visited this particular bookshop.
She knew it could look better and be easier for people to find what they were looking for.
As much as she loved shops where old books were stacked on one another, in corners and in piles, she loved things to be neat and tidy.
Just as she was reaching out, unable to stop herself touching a battered but beautiful copy of Jane Eyre, the owner popped his head out of the open door.
‘Signora Thorpe?’
He pronounced it Torp, and she greeted him in Italian.
‘Very good,’ he replied, referring to her language skills, and she smiled proudly as he introduced himself. ‘I am Signor Balbo.’
Though she’d seen him when she stopped by, she hadn’t ever really spoken to him before. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’ She shook his hand, surprised at his firm grip. He wasn’t even wearing a coat or gloves, just a jumper and shirt with the sleeves rolled up. ‘These are my friends Marco and Francesca.’
‘Welcome all. Giambattista told me you’d be coming. What do you think? Do you like it?’ He widened his arms, taking in the boat.
‘It’s lovely,’ she replied, unsure what else to say.
In many ways it was, and it felt rude to mention the chaos and less than efficient design, but her brain was already noting ways to improve it to show more stock and therefore make more profit.
Not to mention she wanted to single-handedly search through the books, categorising them, finding the hidden gems that were undoubtedly there somewhere.
‘Come inside. Come! Come!’
Stooped with age, he didn’t have to duck to fit through the low doorway, whereas Beth who wasn’t unusually tall, still had to bend to avoid banging her head.
Cesca and Marco followed and they all manoeuvred down a small flight of steep stairs.
On the lower deck, she was able to stand fully upright, and as she did, the excitement built inside her.
This could be hers if she wanted. If she was willing to take a leap of faith.
To try something new. Something she hadn’t planned for.