She listened, and understood what he meant. From every direction came the plash of water on stone, so soft that it was almost part of the silence, yet unmistakably there.
She was content, almost happy. The disturbing feeling towards Pietro that was growing inside her could be set aside for the moment, while she relished their camaraderie. Somehow she knew that her previous life had never been blessed with anything like this.
They strolled on peacefully, keeping to the narrowest backstreets. Outwardly Pietro was as calm as she, but inwardly he was troubled.
‘Let’s go this way,’ she said, drawing him sideways.
‘Do you know what lies this way?’ he asked curiously.
‘A tiny canal, and a tiny bridge. I like them better than the big, glamorous places.’
‘So do I.’
There were a hundred tiny canals and tiny bridges, but he knew the one she meant, and after a while they came to it and went to stand on the bridge, looking down into the depths. Here and there a light was still on in one of the buildings, the reflection dancing in the ripples on the water.
From somewhere came the sound of a horn as a ship began its journey out of the lagoon, away to foreign parts, sending waves running back through the large canals, then the small ones, so that even here the water danced higher before settling back.
Another long, contented silence. Then came the sound that sent a pleasurable shiver down Ruth’s spine, a yodelling wail, coming out of the darkness, echoing from wall to wall before dying away into the distance. A pause, then it came again, finally shivering into silence.
‘Do you know what that is?’ Pietro asked.
‘Yes, it’s a gondolier, signalling that he’s coming around a blind corner,’ she said. ‘There he is.’
As they watched a long shape drifted into sight, turning towards them, the gondolier plying his oar at the rear, in front of him a young man and woman in each other’s arms.
Down below the lovers looked up, then smiled and waved, as though wanting to share their happiness with the world, before vanishing under the bridge.
The email from Gino had said,
I know you think I should have returned before, but I’ve been doing so well in Poland, finding all sorts of new places that will interest you. I’d planned to go on to Russia next-after all, that was what you originally told me to do-but it will mean being away for a long time and I suppose I ought to clear this other thing up first, otherwise it’ll just drag on.
I’m coming by train from Milan, and I’ll be at the station the day after tomorrow, at about five-thirty in the afternoon. If it’s all right with you I’ll stay the night, and leave the next day. That’ll give me time to talk to Ruth and put her right about whatever’s worrying her.
Pietro had read this several times, trying vainly to detect any hint of concern for the girl Gino had once loved and planned to marry. But it was a fruitless task, and at last he had begun to outline a reply. As he had tapped out the letters his face had been concentrated into a scowl.
Whatever you’re planning to say I can’t imagine that it will do Ruth any good. She puts a brave face on it, but she’s having a hard time and I don’t want you to make it worse. It’s best if you don’t come at all. Ruth is no longer your problem. I’ll take care of her.
Then he sat glaring at the computer screen, struggling with the biggest temptation of his life. But at last he gave in with a bad grace, and hit the Delete button so savagely that the keyboard jumped.
He tried again.
Don’t come at all if that’s your attitude. She’s better off without you.
He deleted that one at once and scowled at the screen, trying to understand what was wrong with him. With all his heart he wanted to keep Gino away and save Ruth from pain and disillusion.
But he couldn’t save her. It was her decision. He could neither shield her, nor make it for her. That was the brute fact that he couldn’t get past.
As for why he should want to intervene, that was another fact, an alarming one, that he didn’t want to face.
He’d been living in a spell, telling himself that it could never be broken, that tomorrow wouldn’t come. Now it had come and he was left in confusion.
‘Did Gino take you in a gondola?’ he asked.
‘Several times. He actually proposed to me in a gondola.’
Suppressing the bitter comment, ‘He would!’, Pietro said noncommittally, ‘Tell me about it.’
He couldn’t make out her face very clearly, but well enough to discern the change of expression: a quick smile, followed at once by a reflective look, then another smile, different, softer, full of sweet recollection. It hurt him to see it.
‘I can’t,’ she said at last.
‘You don’t remember the details?’
‘No, I can remember them but I can’t-talk about them.’
He wanted to lash out. Clearly, to her, the events of that night were too sacred to be mentioned, but Gino had merely talked of clearing up ‘this other thing’.
This other thing. How could Ruth ever imagine that her lover would speak of her like that? And when she found out, how could he prevent it destroying her?
‘Do you think you could cope with seeing Gino again?’ he asked quietly.
‘That’s not likely to happen anytime soon.’
‘It might happen sooner than you think.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve heard from him.’
She turned quickly. ‘What did he say?’
‘He’s coming home.’
He wished he could read her face. Were her eyes wide with shock or joyous disbelief?
‘Is that really true?’ she whispered. ‘He called you?’
‘He emailed me. His train from Milan will get into the station the day after tomorrow, at about five-thirty in the afternoon.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I wasn’t sure how. Things are different now. You’ve moved on.’
‘Not-’ she started to say, then quickly checked herself.
What had she meant to say? he wondered. Not really? Not that much?
‘I don’t know,’ she finished at last. ‘I just don’t know.’
From a few feet away came a faint whine. Toni had left the bridge and gone to the entrance to a narrow
‘All right,’ she laughed. ‘We’re coming.’
Pietro sighed at the way Toni had dispelled the mood. Another few minutes and he might have drawn Ruth out about her true feelings, but the dog’s interruption had given her the chance to think and settle her defences in place.
‘Next time I’ll leave you behind,’ he threatened his faithful hound.
‘Don’t be unkind to him,’ Ruth said firmly. ‘Come on, pet, I’ll give you your medicine as soon as we get indoors.’
The moment had gone.
As they wandered home Pietro said, ‘I wish you wouldn’t shut me out.’
‘I’m not,’ she insisted. ‘Not deliberately, anyway. In an odd way, I’m shut out too-shut out from myself. There’s somebody in there called “Me”, but she won’t open the door to-me. Does that make any sense?’
‘Oddly enough, it does. Go on.’
‘How am I going to react to seeing Gino? The point is, which one of me will do the reacting?’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Maybe it’ll be like one of those horror films when one person vanishes into another. One look at Gino and
