child screamed, tightening his arms around the animal. ‘He’s not bad.’
‘Of course he’s bad,’ the woman said. ‘Signor, mi appello a voi.’
The man she appealed to seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Looking up, Sally thought she recognised him as the man she’d seen at the hotel the night before. But it had been so dark that she found it hard to be sure.
‘Papa!’ the little boy screamed.
So this grim, scowling creature was the father of the boy. Only a swift response would help now. She confronted him.
‘It’s all a misunderstanding,’ she said, praying that he spoke English. ‘I don’t know how much you saw—’
‘I saw the dog hurl himself at you and cover you with mud,’ he said in a voice that brooked no nonsense.
‘He’s just affectionate. It was my fault for calling out to him. He was being friendly.’
To her relief he nodded. ‘That’s generous of you. Thank you. Are you hurt?’
‘Not at all. It’s not his fault that it’s been raining.’ She patted the furry head. ‘You can’t help it raining, can you?’
‘Wuff!’
‘There, you see. He agrees with me.’
The boy gave a chuckle. The man’s face relaxed and he laid his hand on the child’s shoulder. The only person not pleased was the woman. The man spoke a few words to her in Italian. She glared and walked off.
‘She hates Toby,’ the boy complained.
‘How could anybody hate him?’ Sally said. ‘He’s gorgeous.’
‘He makes a mess of the house,’ the man said. ‘Usually in a place she’s just cleaned. Pietro, I think you have an apology to make.’
The child nodded, took a deep breath and faced her, with his arm protectively around Toby. ‘We’re sorry for what happened, signorina.’
‘It’s all right. Sometimes accidents just happen, one after another.’ She leaned down to the dog. ‘As long as Toby isn’t hurt.’
As if to answer Toby licked her face. In response, she bumped her nose against his. Pietro giggled in delight. Toby promptly licked her again, then turned to Charlie, who received his attention with pleasure.
‘While they’re occupied, allow me to buy you a coffee,’ the man said. ‘Then I will escort you back to your hotel. And of course I will pay for your clothes to be cleaned.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘At the Billioni Hotel.’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘Actually I think I saw you there last night. You were calling someone an idiot. Are you the manager?’
‘I’m the owner.’
‘Oh—er—well, it’s a very nice hotel.’
‘But it still needs some work. You don’t have to be tactful.’ He offered his hand. ‘My name is Damiano Ferrone.’
‘I’m Sally Franklin.’ They shook hands cordially.
‘And the young man with you? Your husband?’
‘Goodness no. He’s barely grown up. That’s Charlie, my brother.’
‘And you are here on holiday together?’
‘Yes, we decided to explore the world a little. I know most people don’t take holidays in January—’
‘But Venice is beautiful all the year round. We get many visitors in winter. But perhaps you regret the rain.’
His glance indicated the damp paw marks on her jacket.
‘I don’t regret anything that lets me meet such a gorgeous dog,’ she said. ‘I just love them.’
‘So I saw. You immediately became my son’s favourite person.’
They laughed together. It was remarkable, she thought, how his face, though formed in stern lines, softened when he spoke of the child.
‘Does his mother mind the muddy paw marks?’ she asked.
‘He has no mother. My first wife died giving birth to him nine years ago. He used to have a stepmother but she left us.’
‘Doesn’t she ever come back to see him?’
‘Never.’
‘Does he mind? I mean—were they close?’
‘Not really, but she was the only mother he’d ever known, so he clung to her. But when our marriage ended—’
A shriek of laughter interrupted them and made them turn to where the others were playing.
‘I remember when I had a dog just like that,’ she mused. ‘Full of vim and wanting to be the centre of attention all the time.’
‘He belonged to Pietro’s real mother. He’s the only legacy he has of her.’
‘So of course he treasures him. Yes, over here!’ She raised her voice as Toby raced back towards her, hurling himself once more into her arms while Pietro jumped up and down with delight. Damiano smiled fondly at the sight of his child’s happiness.
‘I think Toby is trying to tell you something,’ he observed.
‘Well, he certainly seems to like me,’ she ventured.
‘Enough to invite you to our house this evening for dinner—as a way of apologising for ruining your clothes. Please say you’ll come.’
Pietro looked up into her face, nodding eagerly, and she guessed he was the one Damiano was trying to please.
‘We’d love to come,’ she said, ‘wouldn’t we, Charlie?’
‘Sure, fine.’
‘I’ll just go back to the hotel and change,’ she said.
‘There’s no need,’ Damiano declared.
‘But look at the mess Toby’s left me in,’ she said, comically indicating the paw marks. She put her face close to the dog’s. ‘This is all your fault.’
‘He’s very sorry,’ Pietro said, ‘and he’ll make it up to you at dinner. But you must come with us now.’ He nudged Toby. ‘Tell her she’s got to come now.’
‘Wuff!’
‘Well, if Toby commands, I can’t refuse.’ She laughed.
It
