Chapter 9
The February sun was slow to rise, and it was still dark as Beth wandered the Venice streets to the book barge, but Venice at dawn was as beautiful as any tropical sunset, in her opinion.
Lights from the streets and houses reflected on the canal waters and the sky was soon lightening to a dusky blue, splashes of light lifting the edges with colour.
She wasn’t sleeping well on the bed in the holiday rental and after waking at four she’d been unable to get back to sleep.
She’d considered heading to the gym, but as her muscles still ached from her previous session, she decided instead to start the day early.
Beth’s plan to was to make a substantial amount of progress with the crazy amount of stock currently piled in the Library of Words.
Gosh, she loved that name. She looked down at the stupid cat carrier in her hand.
‘How are you so heavy?’ she asked Polo. He’d curled up and gone to sleep, ignoring her.
But the thought of the book barge, even with carrying her new cat to and from, filled her with joy.
The name was perfect for the place, but soon it would also be a library of art, if she were lucky.
Her first job that morning was to create space for Marco’s artists to display their work.
Marco. Her mind was stuck on an image of his face.
After their tense interaction where he’d touched on the troubles with his family, they’d managed to pick up the conversation and had had a brilliant evening.
He’d introduced her to lots of people and despite Francesca’s attempts, both had managed to avoid stepping onto the dance floor.
He’d relaxed in her company, and their love of art had proved a fertile area of common ground, giving them lots to talk about.
He was passionate about new artists and moving Venetian art forward rather than it being stuck in the past, while she’d argued the past was more important than the present as people relied on social media apps and streaming services for their entertainment.
After a fun exchange, they’d agreed to disagree, and he’d cheekily said he might be able to convince her otherwise as she met the artists he represented.
She was looking forward to the challenge.
Realising she was smiling at the thought of him, she pulled her lips down.
Cesca’s comment that he didn’t normally like people circled in her head.
He seemed to like her and she certainly felt the same way.
Beth drew her mind back to the present because as well as sorting out where Marco’s artists would stage their work, she also needed to firm up her design ideas so she could describe them to Francesca.
Normally, she’d have planned everything to the last detail for months before making a single move, but since she’d made the decision to buy the place, everything was moving fast. Too fast, it sometimes felt, and she was doing her best to go with the flow.
She wasn’t exactly enjoying it because it still made her feel unsettled and fearful of making the wrong decision, but she was getting used to it and kept telling herself she could always redo things further down the line if she needed to.
That at least provided some comfort. After all, her academic life hadn’t been all plain sailing either.
She’d had to redo essays, retake exams, rewrite articles.
Now she looked back on her previous career, it hadn’t been as perfect as she’d thought.
Walking over a small bridge with iron railings, the water lapping against the houses, some of which looked like they were about to crumble into the canal at any minute, Beth took the time to inhale the tangy air.
She hadn’t done this before when marching to and from work with such speed, focusing on her to-do list and always trying her best to make a good impression, something that might lead to the next promotion.
The only time she’d walked slowly was when she was searching for bookshops during her lunch breaks and even then she’d become frustrated because she had to get back to the office.
She deliberately slowed her pace, moving the cat carrier from one hand to another.
Was she really going to carry him there and back every day?
She thought about letting him live on the barge but where would she put his litter tray?
And there was no way customers would want to see that!
He might get scared at night too and if he did, he wouldn’t be able to curl up on her bed.
She’d actually enjoyed coming back to him after the party, and hearing his gentle purring as she fell asleep while her fingers stroked his soft fur.
As she passed more houses, whose walls had seemed so pale five minutes before, she watched as they appeared to change colour.
As the sun rose it was as though they’d taken on the stronger hues now slicing through the sky.
The rich yellows made the red brick redder, and the pale cream walls brighter.
The city was coming alive and soon it would be full of café owners like Giambattista, laying out tables, and shop owners readying tills for the day’s trading.
An overwhelming feeling of contentment spread through Beth and her shoulders dropped, even with the low temperature forcing them up to protect against the February wind.
Still, the birds were singing, the sweet chirping growing louder as they too arose.
Beth arrived at the book barge and let herself in, placing Polo on the deck and opening the carrier.
He immediately strolled out and stretched.
The air hit her skin as she took off her coat, causing her to shiver, but she took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of paper and books, leather bindings and the safety of stories.
Her first task was to light the fire and get some warmth in the place.
That done, she flicked on the small travel kettle and made herself some tea.
The milk was still fresh thanks to the freezing temperature and with a warm glow sweeping its way through the barge from the fire and the table lamps dotted around the shelves, Beth pulled on some fingerless gloves to keep her hands warm, and started work.
‘Marco! It’s even prettier than I remember!’
Francesca’s voice broke Beth’s focus and she placed yet another book down on the non-fiction pile.
Whilst she loved a bit of non-fiction as much as the next person (maybe more being an academic) she had noticed a real lack of novels.
She’d been clearing space and sorting the stock, stacking all the non-fiction books down one end of the barge and, as she stood, she worried the whole boat was about to tip over.
Fiction, unless it was two hundred years old and a classic, clearly hadn’t been Signor Balbo’s thing.
She’d have to change that. Tourists would most likely want holiday reads, so she needed a good supply and who didn’t love disappearing into a book and forgetting about the real world for a while.
Marco’s deep voice rumbled above, but she couldn’t make out what he said.
If he wasn’t impressed, or at least saw the potential of the space, there was no way he was going to help her.
A tingling in her lungs made her breath quiver and she told herself it had nothing to do with Marco and everything to do with her business.
Just as she turned, Cesca popped her head through the doorway. ‘I can’t tell you how much I love this place! Beth, it’s amazing. I need to know all your plans right now.’ She almost fell down the small set of steep stairs in her haste.
Marco followed more cautiously in a tailored peacoat and suit, and Beth wished she’d worn something more exciting than her usual pair of old trousers and jumper. She looked like a granny.
‘And is this the cat you’ve inherited?’ She crouched down and began stroking Polo, making cooing noises at him about what a good boy he was.
‘He likes you,’ Beth replied with a grin.
‘What’s his name again?’
‘Polo. Like Marco Polo. Because he likes to go and explore all day then come back at night. Though he hasn’t gone far today.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Marco said. ‘It’s so cold.’ He bent down too and began fussing the cat, edging his sister out of the way in a playful manner. She resisted, elbowing him back, then yielded and stood up.
‘I really do love this place, Beth.’
‘Me too,’ Beth replied with a grin. ‘So … welcome officially to the Library of Words.’ She opened her arms wide. ‘I was just sorting some more of the stock.’
‘There’s a lot isn’t there,’ Marco commented, leaving Polo who watched on, offended the fussing had stopped. He gazed around, his face unreadable.
‘There is. Far too much. Signor Balbo just seems to have bought more and more and more, without thinking about where he’d put it or how he’d shift it.’
‘What will you do with it all?’
‘Donate some to local libraries, I think. If they’d like them. Maybe set up a table on the bank next market day and just sell off as much as I can. I’m not quite sure, but I need to reduce the amount of stock to free up space and I’d like to avoid giving them all away for free if I can help it.’
‘So what are you thinking in here?’ Cesca asked.
‘I think each area needs shelving that actually fits the space.’
Signor Balbo had used whatever furniture he could lay his hands on to display the books, but it meant the space wasn’t as efficient as it could be and some areas were downright health hazards, with corners sticking out ready to be walked into.
She already had bruises on her thighs from where they’d got her when she wasn’t paying enough attention.
‘But you want to keep the character, right?’ Cesca asked. Beth could see her mind already working as she moved around the space.
‘Definitely. You know I’m all about the heritage.’