'No, I was never much good as an artist, so I look after other people's pictures, and repair them.'
'Are you doing that for Uncle Vincenzo?'
'The truth is that I had no right to be here. I'm just nosy, I'm afraid.'
This admission seemed to strike a response in the child.
'Oh, yes, like when you're looking at a book of pictures and you've just got to keep turning over more and more pages.'
'That's it,' Julia said. 'The pictures are so beautiful that you can't get enough.'
'And you wish ever so much that you could make pictures like them,' Rosa said wistfully. 'But you just can't.'
Julia looked up quickly to see Vincenzo standing in the doorway. She hadn't heard him come in, and wondered how long he'd been there.
Rosa was full of eagerness.
'Uncle, this lady understands about pictures and wanting to look at them even though it's time to go to bed.'
Vincenzo grinned. 'We have constant battles about bedtime in our house.'
He brought a glass of water to the bed and offered it to Julia, who was hauling herself up painfully.
'Thank you,' she gasped, fumbling for the glass.
But it was Rosa who secured it, climbing onto the bed and directing Vincenzo to hold Julia up. He slipped his arms beneath her shoulders while the little girl held the glass to her lips.
'Can I have your hankie, please. Uncle?'
He handed over a clean handkerchief, and Rosa used it to dab at the blood on Julia's forehead. Her little face was concentrated, as though this were the most important job in the world. Her hands were gentle.
'There,' she said solemnly at last. 'That will do until the doctor sees it.'
'Thank you,' Julia said as Vincenzo laid her back on the jacket. She smiled at Rosa. 'That's very kind of you.'
'I'm going to be a nurse when I grow up,' the child told her. 'Or I may be an art restorer. If I can read all the books in time. But it's hard because Gemma keeps telling me to put the light out and go to sleep.'
'I used to get into trouble for that too. My mother couldn't understand that, to me, an art book was as good as a thriller.'
Rosa nodded again, this time vigorously. 'What did you do?' she asked.
Julia leaned nearer, like a conspirator, and whispered, 'I got smaller books and hid them under the bedclothes.'
She winked. Rosa gave a little gasp, which almost turned into a giggle. Almost.
'Now can I ask what you're doing here?' Vincenzo said. 'Why didn't you just tell me, instead of coming here alone and climbing about in that dangerous way?'
'I did it on impulse. I thought it would give me something to think about other than-well, things I didn't want to think about.'
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rosa grow suddenly still. It was an alert stillness, as though someone had blown a trumpet, and she was waiting.
'I expect you have a lot of things that you don't want to think about,' Julia said carefully.
Rosa nodded.
'But you can't stop,' she said.
'I know. The more you don't want to think of them, the more you keep thinking of them, until it's like a great big stone crushing you. And you can't get out from under it.'
This time Rosa didn't nod, but a light came into her eyes, and she continued to watch Julia intently.
'I think I should get you back to your flat,' Vincenzo said. 'Then I'm sending for the doctor, and I want no argument. Nor are you coming in to work at the restaurant. You'll rest until Epiphany is over.'
'Then she can spend Epiphany with us,' Rosa breathed. 'Uncle Vincenzo, please say she can.'
Julia drew in her breath, waiting for Vincenzo to find some excuse.
'Will you feel well enough for that?' he asked.
'Yes, I know I will.'
'You'll come?' Rosa exclaimed. 'And stay with us all day?'
Julia glanced at Vincenzo. He was very pale, but he spoke steadily.
'Of course you will stay all day. So now you must rest properly, to make quite certain that nothing prevents you being our guest.'
'My guest,' Rosa said proudly.
CHAPTER NINE
It snowed the night before Epiphany, but by the morning it had stopped, the sun was out, and Venice lay under a shining white blanket.
Vincenzo came to collect Julia and exclaimed, 'Mio Dio, what are you carrying?'
'Gifts for Rosa. After all, it's her day, isn't it? Piero told me that Italian children hang up their stockings now, not at Christmas.'
'You'd better let me take some. There was no need to load yourself down like a donkey.'
'Six missing birthdays. Six missing Christmases. I'm making up for all those times I wasn't able to watch her face as she opened things. She won't know,but I will.'
As they walked through the snow she said, 'By the way, how did I become Signora Baxter?'
'It was the first name I could think of. Do you mind?'
'No, it'll do. I'm so happy today I'd agree to anything.'
She gave a little skip in the snow and he had to grab her to stop her slithering. They laughed together and now he could hear the different note in her voice. She had come back to life. The next moment she broke free and began to pelt him with snowballs. He dropped the parcels and pelted her back.
As it was a feast day there were no traghetti crossing the Grand Canal, so they walked over the Accademia Bridge. Halfway across Julia stopped and looked down the length of water to where it broadened out into the lagoon, flashing and gleaming like a million swords in the sunlight.
'If people knew Venice was as beautiful as this in winter, nobody would come in the summer,' she said.
'You're turning into a Venetian,' he teased.
'I reckon I am.'
She gazed ecstatically up into the sky, which was a brilliant blue.
'I can't believe this is happening,' she breathed. 'After all these years I've seen her again, I'm going to spend the day with her and she likes me. Not as a mother-it's too soon for that, I know. But she likes me, she likes me.'
'Steady,' he said, taking her shoulders. 'Try to keep your feet on the ground.'
'No, why should I?' she said, laughing. 'I don't want my feet on the ground. The ground's so hard. Believe me, I know. I've slept on it.'
He gave her a gentle shake, 'Julia, you're crazy.'
'Yes, I'm crazy,' she cried joyfully. 'I'm crazy with happiness, crazy, crazy!'
Some passers-by looked at her, but instead of scuttling past in alarm they grinned, falling in with her mood. This was Venice, where crazy people were the norm.
Just the same, Vincenzo took the precaution of kissing her firmly before she could say any more.
'Will you shut up?' he begged between kisses.
'Maybe. Persuade me.'
He kissed her again and again, feeling her young and glorious in his arms, wishing it could always be like this. He took her face between his hands, looking deep into her eyes. But although he saw his own reflection there he knew that was only on the surface. Behind that surface was something else that excluded him.
'Julia,' he said, trying to call her back to him. 'Sophie.'
