right?’ he asked when she finally looked up.
‘Yes, I’m all right now.’
‘Did you find something?’
She smiled. ‘Yes, I found just what I needed.’
Suddenly her face brightened and she cried, ‘Giovanni Soranzo!’ in such a voice of triumph that people stared at her.
‘Excuse me?’ Pietro said.
‘You must have heard of him—Doge of Venice, early fourteenth century.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of him. I’m descended from him.’
‘And so is Gino. He told me all about it. That’s what I was trying to remember. You were right. When I stopped thinking about it, it came back.’
‘Then we’ve made progress already. Can you remember anything else he said?’
‘The Doges ruled Venice for twelve centuries, and were immensely powerful. Gino was so proud of being descended from one of them. He showed me the portrait you keep in the palazzo.’
‘We’ll have another look at it some time.’
‘When we’ve finished lunch I’d like to wander around a bit on my own.’
‘No,’ he said at once.
‘Yes,’ she replied firmly. ‘I’m not going to run away again, I promise.’
‘You might get lost.’
‘You can’t get lost in Venice. If you take a wrong turn you just come to the edge and fall into the water. You climb out, soaking wet and cursing horribly, and retrace your steps. You must teach me some of those fine Venetian curses. Gino said they’re the best in the world.’
He was forced to laugh at her determined humour.
‘I’m safe now, honestly,’ she continued. ‘I’ll come back to the shop later, and if you’re not there I’ll make my own way home.’
He agreed but reluctantly, and when they left Florian’s his eyes followed her across St Mark’s Piazza until she vanished.
It was as well that he returned to the shop, for his part-time assistant didn’t show up, and it was a busy afternoon. Late in the day Ruth slipped quietly inside. To his relief she looked calm and cheerful.
He called the palazzo, giving Minna the night off preparing his meal, and on the way home he stopped in several food shops buying fresh meat and vegetables.
‘Tonight I do the cooking,’ he told Ruth. ‘And if that doesn’t scare you, nothing will.’
‘But Gino said you were a wonderful cook.’
‘Compared to him, I was. I enjoy it. And I enjoy surprising people who don’t expect me to be able to do it.’
Toni came to meet them as soon as they entered, paying particular attention to Ruth, whom he seemed to consider his particular concern after having guarded her on the first night.
There was a note from Minna on the table, to say that she had taken Toni for a walk and seen him settled before going out for the evening.
‘I’d better give him his medication before I start cooking,’ Pietro said. ‘Can you hand me the little brown bottle on that shelf behind you?’
Ruth glanced at the label before handing over the bottle, and without thinking, she said, ‘Good stuff.’
‘You’ve come across these pills before?’ Pietro said quickly. ‘When?’
‘I—don’t know. I just know them. You give them to a dog who has petit mal, mild epilepsy.’
‘That’s right. Perhaps you had a dog of your own?’
‘No, I don’t think so. My aunt didn’t like animals. How often does he have these?’
‘Just one a day. Perhaps you can give it to him while I start the food.’
He retreated to the kitchen, but lingered in the doorway, watching as Toni nestled against her, clearly content to trust her. In a few seconds the pill was down.
Her offer to help with the meal was met with lofty dismissal. Women, Pietro gave her to understand, did not belong in the kitchen. While she was still trying to puzzle this out he indicated the china and gave her permission to lay the table.
‘Cheek!’ she said amiably, and got to work.
Ruth had to admit that he served up a fabulous meal, starting with risi e bisi, rice with peas, assuring her that it had been a big favourite with Giovanni Soranzo.
‘Oh, yeah!’ she said sceptically.
‘Listen, you’re not talking to Gino now. If I say it, it’s true. Well, sort of. Traditionally it was the starter on the Doge’s lunch menu every year, during the feast of St Mark.’
‘Ah,’ Ruth said cunningly, ‘but is there any evidence that he actually liked it?’
‘He ate it, and it never killed him,’ Pietro hedged. ‘Why don’t you open the wine?’
Although she’d known him such a short time Ruth was coming to treasure these moments of bantering, which took her mind away from problems. She wondered if it did the same for him.
The meal continued with pasta in olive oil, followed by cream cod mousse and sweet biscuits, washed down with light, delicious wines.
Suddenly she said, ‘I was going to ask if you’ve been in touch with Gino since I arrived. But you must have been, and, since you haven’t mentioned it, I guess he doesn’t want to know.’
Pietro was taken by surprise, but realised that he shouldn’t have been. He was getting used to her sharp wits.
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