Chapter 14
‘What’s this?’ Cesca asked with a grin as she reached out for the smoothie. ‘But tell me, why is all your stuff inside the boat? I couldn’t move to get started.’
‘I know. Sorry.’ Beth winced and explained all that had happened with the estate agent, including her futile attempts to hide a cat carrier under her coat.
Cesca giggled as Polo, hearing his name strode over to them for some attention. ‘Poor Polo and poor you. That is a horrible thing to do. Couldn’t they just move you somewhere else?’
‘They didn’t have anywhere and even if they did, I’m not sure he wanted to. He thought I was mad.’
Cesca laughed again but then changed to concern. ‘What will you do?’
‘Tidy up!’ Beth replied breezily. ‘We need to get to work.’
She edged past Cesca and stuffed her things back into the suitcases. ‘I’ll put them up on the deck for now. At least it’s not supposed to rain today. Then we can get started.’
She would paint the area Cesca had completed while her friend worked on the next section.
Once the case was up on the deck, Beth returned and together they manoeuvred the cabinet Signor Balbo had installed, which was more like an old-fashioned bureau with a pull-down writing desk, out onto the canal path.
Cesca immediately started taking it apart, holding up the desk inlaid with green leather.
‘I think we can use this somewhere else, don’t you?’
‘Definitely. What will you do with the sides?’
‘Do you like the colour of the wood?’
Beth scrunched up her nose. It was dark walnut and made the interior of the barge feel small and gloomy.
Cesca laughed. ‘That’s a no then?’
‘It’s just so … dark.’ There was no other word to describe it.
‘The wood’s good quality though. I might sand it and get some of this horrible varnish off. The wood underneath could look beautiful stripped back.’
‘Let’s do that then.’
They got to work, and the morning passed quickly. Beth almost forgot about her need to find somewhere to sleep and had just decided on a cheap hotel for the night when Marco called.
Seeing his name on her phone she felt a flush of embarrassment after her outburst this morning, not that he’d made her feel stupid. He’d been incredibly kind and understanding, giving good advice. She just hoped he wasn’t calling to check in on her. That would be mortifying.
‘Hi,’ she said, her eyes going to Cesca who was out on the canal path sawing wood. Beth felt suddenly guilty as she was reminded of the secret she was keeping and swallowed.
‘Are you busy?’ Marco asked cheerfully. ‘Sorry, that’s a stupid question. Of course you’re busy, but can you spare an hour? I have another artist who can see you but as Carnevale is starting she doesn’t have much time.’
‘Yes of course. Send me the address and I’ll be there.’
He rang off and Beth was grateful he hadn’t mentioned anything about the morning. She worked until the appointment time neared, then quickly pulled some smarter clothes from her suitcase and nipped back inside to change. Cesca kindly waited outside while she did so.
‘Make my brother buy you some lunch,’ Cesca said just as she was leaving. ‘You haven’t eaten all day.’
‘Neither have you. Make sure you stop soon, okay?’
‘I’m Italian,’ she replied with a grin. ‘Of course I will stop for lunch!’
Beth giggled as she walked away, searching on her phone for a cheap hotel she could stay in that night.
She somehow managed not to fall into a canal while looking at the screen and soon ended up at the location Marco had given her.
As she walked through the beautiful Venetian streets to the most expensive shopping area of the city, she felt more and more confused.
Had she entered the address wrong? No, she couldn’t have as she’d used Marco’s pin.
Had he got it wrong? She was just about to call and double-check she was headed in the right direction when she spotted him outside a shop.
‘Hello,’ she said, spying his three-piece suit with his usual navy peacoat over the top and a deep blue scarf. She’d never been gladder she’d changed into her uniform of smart trousers, jumper and tailored coat.
‘Hello,’ he replied with a smile. ‘What do you think?’
He motioned to the window and Beth’s eyes widened as she saw the type of shop they were visiting. On the other side of the spotless glass, a mannequin wore a dress with an enormous train, both made entirely of intricately woven lace.
She gasped. ‘Is this … is the owner …’
‘One of my clients?’ He grinned. ‘Yes, she is. And she’s incredible. Very talented. Gifted, even.’
‘She made this?’ He nodded. ‘It’s exquisite, but it won’t fit on my boat and I’m not sure bookworms like me are in the mood to buy massive dresses for extremely special occasions when they’re looking for a new historical crime or romance to read. Not that I’m not grateful but—’
‘Do you trust me?’ Marco asked and the question shocked her.
After their row that morning though, she knew the answer without a second thought, which made her feel even worse about holding Cesca’s secret for her. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Then come on, let’s meet Marcella and I’ll tell you both about the idea I’ve had.’
Marco opened the door and held it open for Beth.
A young woman met them, stepping forward from behind a desk.
The place had that high-end feel you get in designer shops.
It was brightly lit with glossy surfaces and was entirely spotless.
The young woman walking towards them looked elegant and sleek in a fitted, conservative black dress.
‘Buongiorno, come posso aiutarla?’
Marco responded in Italian, greeting her and adding, ‘We’ve an appointment with Marcella.’
The assistant smiled and said, ‘This way,’ motioning them towards the back of the shop.
They went through to a back room where Marcella, curly blonde-grey hair piled high on her head, glasses on an expensive-looking gold chain falling to the bridge of her nose, was working on another delicate piece of lace.
Marco waited patiently for her to finish before he spoke. ‘That looks beautiful, Marcella.’
‘Grazie, Marco.’ She stood and kissed him on both cheeks. Marco introduced Beth and she did the same thing, Beth noticing the expensive perfume she was wearing. The floral scents were subtle but not overpowering and filled the air as she moved.
There was no way she could afford, or even safely display any of Marcella’s work and she wondered what Marco was up to. But, as she was learning to go with the flow, and she trusted him, she sat back while he led the conversation.
Marco turned to Beth. ‘I had a conversation with Marcella this morning after our row.’ She fought the blush that was threatening to rise up her cheeks. ‘And we came up with a genius plan.’
Marcella tutted, then spoke in English just as Marco had. ‘You came up with a genius plan. I can take no credit.’ She placed a hand on Beth’s arm as she moved from her workstation to a corner of the room and took a drink from a water bottle. ‘But I think it’s a good idea.’
‘I’m intrigued,’ Beth replied.
Marco grinned. She’d been waiting for his usual businesslike armour to appear, but it hadn’t as yet. ‘I had an idea that Marcella, as the foremost lacemaker in the whole of Venice—’ she tutted again, and Marco smiled fondly at her ‘—might have some use for the smaller pieces she makes.’
‘Use for them?’ Beth echoed, still not catching on.
‘What do all bookworms need when they purchase a new book?’ he asked.
A slow smile spread over her face as she realised where he was headed. ‘A bookmark!’
‘Exactly. Marcella has lots of small pieces of lace that are cast-offs—’
‘Or not good enough,’ Marcella added.
‘And those pieces, she throws them away.’ Marco tossed his hand to illustrate his point. ‘Into the bin. It is a waste! I’ve been telling her for years it’s a waste. And now, I know how we can use them to both your advantage.’
‘I can make bookmarks with them?’ Beth asked, a little unconvinced. She wasn’t exactly a crafty person. There was a very good reason she’d hired Cesca.
‘You can if you like but look—’ He led Beth to a workstation and Marcella joined them, taking over the explanation.
‘These are all no good for my dresses or artwork,’ she explained, pointing at the slim, narrow pieces. They were beautiful and Beth couldn’t see what was wrong with them. She said as much, and Marcella laughed.
‘Here.’ She took a small handheld magnifying glass, the same sort of thing jewellers used to check diamonds, and held it over a corner of one of the pieces.
‘There is a stitch missing. My dresses cost thousands and thousands of euros and are worn by movie stars, celebrities, world leaders. They must be perfect. This—’ She gestured to it again. ‘This is not perfect.’
‘So you’d put it in the bin?’
‘I would, unless you want them.’
Beth studied the beautiful pieces. Some were already the perfect shape for a bookmark, others were more unusual, but the beauty couldn’t be denied.
She could definitely see them taking up space in the bookshop.
Maybe on a special counter made with the green leather writing desk she and Cesca had moved out of there that morning.
But just as excitement filled her at the idea, she needed to know how much it would cost. Yes, Marcella said she would normally throw them away, but with her dresses costing thousands and thousands of pounds, would she charge a fortune for these too?
‘I love the idea,’ she said, glancing at Marco who seemed to pick up on where she was headed.
‘So this is what I’m proposing,’ he began, outlining the cost Marcella would charge, the commission Beth would receive from each sale and how it could all work in practice.
Beth was impressed and though the pieces would be expensive, they would absolutely be worth it for their beauty and craftsmanship, and she was sure booklovers would want them.
Especially tourists so they had an amazing souvenir to bring home.