style="font-size:15px;"> She hadn’t known how to tell him that her severity was based on apprehension. She dreaded to let him down. If she was sometimes too stern, wasn’t that better than being too easy-going and seeing him get into trouble?
And she recognised that his accusation was partly right. There was a certainty about figures that made her feel safe.
Yet now she found herself in a world where nothing was as expected. Surprises bounced out to confront her every moment, and certainty barely existed.
But she would cope. She was efficient, organised, strong; virtues that had carried her through life thus far. What could possibly happen here that could defeat her?
From outside came the sound of singing again. Moving carefully she eased herself out of bed and went to look out. There below was another gondola with another romantic couple. And there too was Damiano sitting on the balcony, looking over the water.
After watching him for a moment she drew back, closed her window and leaned against it, her heart beating.
* * *
Next morning Nora was all attentiveness, bringing her breakfast, waiting on her, making sure that she took her pills. Charlie looked in, then Damiano, and Pietro. The little boy looked pleased to see her in good spirits, and hugged her.
‘I’ve got to go to school now,’ he said with a yawn. ‘But you’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?’
‘Definitely she will,’ Damiano said. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to school.’
‘You don’t need to,’ Pietro said. ‘I can go alone.’
‘Well, perhaps—’
‘I’m not a little kid, Papa.’
To Sally’s surprise he seemed grumpy and offended, unlike the sweet-natured child she was beginning to know. Perhaps ‘macho’ set in early, she thought.
Pietro vanished without waiting for further argument, and she met Damiano’s eyes.
‘He’s getting independent,’ she said.
‘I guess so. He certainly doesn’t like me going to school with him. I was afraid he might be falling behind but his teachers all say he’s very bright and works hard, so I’m not sure why I’m suddenly unwelcome.’
‘Is it a long journey, difficult, dangerous?’
‘No, it’s just a few alleys away. Venice isn’t like any other city where you have to cross roads and be afraid of cars. He can manage it alone, but now and then I like to go with him. I hoped he liked it too, but recently he’s started saying no.’
‘He’s turning into his own man. You heard what he said. He’s not a little kid.’
‘I’d have thought he was still a kid, at only nine, but—well—’
‘He’s going to be like his father,’ she said in a faintly teasing voice. ‘When he grows up he’ll insist on doing things his way.’
‘I’m not sure that being like me would be a blessing,’ he said wryly.
‘That depends exactly what you mean.’
‘I mean a lot that I’m not willing to explain. Now, about today. I want you to stay in bed. The doctor will come later, and we’ll see what he says. In the meantime, you stay here.’
‘But what about Charlie?’
‘Leave Charlie to me. I’ll be in the hotel next door and I’m taking him with me. I’m planning some changes, a small theatre, a casino. He might have useful suggestions.’
‘So he’ll be safely under your wing,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t worry about anything. Goodbye for now. I’ll send some English newspapers up if you need distraction.’
He was as good as his word. She spent the day browsing the papers, eating, sometimes nodding off. The doctor called and said she was improving enough to get up the next day.
Once she got out of bed and went to the window where, by a lucky chance, she saw Damiano and Charlie in the alley below, deep in conversation.
He’s safe, she thought contentedly. Oh, thank goodness we found this man.
She returned to bed and dozed for another hour. When she awoke there was a soft knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ she called.
It was Pietro, carrying a mug.
‘English tea,’ he said proudly. ‘Careful!’
The last word was directed at Toby, who came flying into the room and leapt on the bed, forcing Pietro to back away to protect the tea.
‘It’s all right, I’ve got him,’ she said, clutching Toby. With an unconvincing attempt at severity she added, ‘You pestiferous pup. You can’t stop hurling yourself at me.’
‘Pestiferous?’ Pietro queried, setting the tea down beside her. ‘Is that an English word?’
‘Yes. It has several meanings, but one of them is “annoying”.’
‘Ah! Irritante.’
‘Definitely.’ She wagged a finger at Toby. ‘You are irritante.’
‘Wuff!’ He licked her finger.
‘He just takes everything in his stride.’ She laughed.
‘He does with you, because he loves you.’
‘And I love him. Oh, yes!’ She put her arms around the dog. ‘He reminds me of my own lovely Jacko.’
‘You have a dog?’
‘I used to, a few years ago. He died. But he’ll always be with me because we were so close. He was the first one who really loved me.’
He stared. ‘Didn’t your parents love you?’
‘Yes, in their way, but—I think having a girl was a big disappointment for them.’
‘But that’s not fair,’ Pietro said indignantly.
‘Life often isn’t fair,’ she said wryly. ‘Some things we just have to put up with. Anyway, when they finally had a son the family was complete. And I always had Jacko to turn to. He belonged to my father, but he and I were specially close.
‘One day I walked into the room and Jacko’s whole face lit up with delight at the sight of me. Nobody had ever reacted to me like that before, and I just had to love him. I could tell him things I couldn’t tell anyone else.’
Pietro nodded. ‘Yes. They understand everything.’
‘I’m sure you talk to Toby a lot.’ In a teasing voice she added,
