remembered that Mario knew Gino and would have said it was him. Conscious of Pietro’s eyes upon her, she asked, ‘Did he give his name?’
‘Senor Salvatore Ramirez.’
‘What? But he’s the man whose books I’m translating. Let me see.’
She darted past him into the front of the shop. Pietro, following more slowly, was just in time to see an extravagantly handsome man approach her with a theatrical gesture.
‘I have brought the books myself because I had to meet the lady who understands my writing better than anyone in the world,’ he declared expansively, speaking in Spanish. ‘I called first at your address but they told me to come here.’
‘You’re very kind,’ she murmured.
‘And now tell me that I can take you away. We will spend the evening together, talking about many things you need to know to help you with the other books. I will open my heart to you, you will open your heart to me, and in the joy of mutual understanding we will create a work of art.’
‘Well, there are some questions I’d like to discuss with you,’ she mused. ‘Pietro, is it all right if I go? Senor Ramirez says-’
‘Yes, I understood quite as much as I wanted,’ Pietro said in disgust. ‘Get him out of here.’
‘I don’t suppose I’ll be very late-’
‘Be as late as you please, but go before I throw up.’
Ruth returned to the palazzo in the early hours, having enjoyed one of the best evenings of her life. She slipped in quietly, prepared to creep up to her room, but Pietro was lying on the sofa with his feet up and a baleful expression on his face.
‘Is this what you call not being very late?’
‘Is it late? I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Too busy creating a work of art?’ he asked ironically.
‘Something like that.’
Her eyes were bright with champagne, but also with an evening’s pleasure. She threw herself into a chair, stretching luxuriously.
‘Oh, what an evening! I learned so much.’
‘Good,’ he said briefly.
‘I hope you didn’t wait up for me.’
‘I was a little concerned for you. I shouldn’t have let you go off with him like that. He might have been any kind of a bad character.’
‘No, he’s charming. It was a wonderful night.’
‘I didn’t think restaurants stayed open this late.’
‘It didn’t. They threw us out, so we went back to his hotel.’
‘And stayed there for several hours,’ he said grimly.
‘Really?’ She looked at her watch, apparently startled. ‘Oh, yes, I didn’t notice the time.’
‘So you had such a good time that now you’re full of ideas for translating his books?’ Pietro’s voice had a touch of sarcasm.
‘Yes, I-oh, heavens! The books.’ This time her alarm was genuine.
‘Where are they?’
‘I must have left them in the hotel room. I’ve got to go back. How did I manage to forget them?’
‘I can’t imagine,’ Pietro said dryly.
At that moment there came the sound of the bell from the side door down below. Exchanging glances, they went to the window and looked out. There stood Salvatore, accompanied by a beautiful woman in her forties.
‘Ruth,’ she called up merrily. ‘You left the books behind.’ She held them up.
‘Amanda, I’m so sorry,’ Ruth called.
‘I’ll come down and let you in,’ Pietro said.
‘No, no, we can’t stay,’ Amanda called. ‘We leave early tomorrow morning and we must get some sleep. I’ll leave the books here on the ground. Goodbye.’
She and Salvatore blew kisses and vanished into the night, arms about each other. Pietro hurried down and collected the books.
‘Don’t lose them again,’ he said, giving them to Ruth. ‘And who is Amanda?’
‘His wife, of course. Isn’t she sweet?’
‘Yes.’
‘She’s been with you all the time?’ Pietro asked slowly.
‘Of course. Actually I learned more from her than from him. I think she helps to write the books, or even writes most of them. She’s probably the one who insisted on having me to translate.’
‘Does Ramirez do anything himself?’
‘Well, he tells very good funny stories. I’ve never laughed so much as I did tonight-at least, I don’t think I have. But like many men, he’s chiefly window-dressing.’ She yawned. ‘Now I must go to bed. Goodnight.’ When he didn’t answer she raised her voice. ‘Goodnight, Pietro.’
He jumped. ‘What?’
‘I said goodnight, but you were staring into the distance. Did you hear me?’
‘No-yes-goodnight.’
She smiled as she went into her room. For reasons she couldn’t have explained, she had enjoyed the last few minutes more than she would have thought possible.
Now her days were pleasantly full, either working at the shop or sitting up late working on the books she was translating. Ruth clung to her resolve not to brood about Gino, and found that it worked better that way. Odd snippets did come back to her, to be fitted, piece by piece, into the wall that her mind was gradually building up. It helped, but it wasn’t a final answer.
‘Perhaps there won’t be a final answer,’ she mused to herself. ‘Maybe I’ll just have to remake my life from here.’
Once that thought would have scared her, but now she could consider the prospect calmly, even deal with it. In Venice she’d found the last thing she’d ever dared to hope for: safety. It had something to do with Pietro, whose steadying hand was always held out to her.
She found it easy to get on with his associates, particularly Barone Franco Farini, a big, bouncing man who’d started as a porter, made a fortune out of kitchen utensils and was now anxious to ‘better himself’. To this end he’d bought a palace on one of the islands in the lagoon and managed to get a defunct title of nobility revived and attached to himself.
Among his other acquisitions was a much younger wife who’d married him for his spurious title and liked nothing better than to prance around in what she felt was his glory.
Ruth found that it was hard to take seriously a man so naively pleased with his toys, but there was something charming about his innocence and open-heartedness.
‘How did he ever make a fortune in big business?’ she chuckled after their first meeting.
‘By using a completely different part of his brain,’ Pietro said with a grin. ‘The business part is tough as old boots, and none too scrupulous. The bit that went gaga for Serafina is just plain thick. Since you’re a language expert, you probably know the derivation of the term “Barone”?’
‘Its Latin root is “bara”, meaning simpleton,’ she said, laughing. ‘Poor Franco.’
‘It will be poor Franco when Serafina leaves him and demands millions.’
‘You don’t know that she’ll do that.’
‘You haven’t met her,’ Pietro replied ominously.
Part of Franco’s plan to better himself was to improve his English, which was terrible. To this end he engaged Ruth in long, eager conversations about his island and the spectacular party he was planning there during Carnival, and for which Pietro was selling the tickets.
‘It will be big, big, big,’ he explained. ‘Everybody will be there-all the big people. We all go over the water in gondolas, and there is my Serafina looking more beautiful than any other woman.’
‘He’s spent a fortune in jewels for her, and she can’t wait to show them off,’ Pietro observed later. ‘And that’s
