hair was swept back and fixed so that it hung down her back. Then she stood before the mirror to regard herself critically.
Neat, slightly severe, nothing that would hog attention. Good.
Having breakfast in her room would be too dull, so she went down to the restaurant to confront the banquet there.
It was one of the pleasures of her life that she could eat whatever she liked without putting on weight. Now she enjoyed herself to the full, then went to the information desk to collect some leaflets about the city. Serious business could wait while she had some fun. The young man behind the counter asked politely if she had any special reason to come to Venice.
‘I’m interested in glass,’ she said casually. ‘I believe there are several glass factories here.’
‘They are on the island of Murano, just across the water. Murano glass is the very finest in the world.’
‘So I’ve heard. I believe there’s one called Larezzo that’s supposed to be the best of all.’
‘Some say it is, some say that Perroni is the best. They’re about equal. If you’re interested in seeing a glass works there’s a tour going to Larezzo today.’
‘Thank you, I should like to join it.’
An hour later a large motor boat drew up by the hotel landing stage and she boarded it, along with five others. Ten tourists were already there, and the driver proclaimed that they had now made the last stop, and could head for Murano.
‘Once the factories were in Venice,’ Antonio had told her. ‘But the city fathers were afraid of those roaring foundries, in case they started a fire that would consume the whole city. So, in the thirteenth century, they banished the glass makers to Murano.’
There they had remained ever since, dominating the art with their inventive techniques and the unrivalled beauty of their products.
Now Helena stood near the front of the boat, full of curiosity about what she would discover, and revelling in the sensation of the wind whipping about her. Of course, it made good business sense to inspect her property incognito before confronting Salvatore, but she knew, if she was honest, that she was simply enjoying this.
After fifteen minutes they arrived. Hands reached out to help them ashore, and a guide pointed out the factory.
She had never been anywhere like it before. The exhibition of finished glass objects was pleasing enough, but beyond that were the secrets of how these beautiful things were made. The furnaces, the designers, the vases being blown by hand—all these things entranced her.
She let herself fall back to the edge of the crowd, then slipped away out of sight. Now she was free to wander alone, pausing to watch as the fancy took her. It was like another universe, one where the most dazzling arts were practised with an almost casual skill.
At last she reckoned she should rejoin the others. They were just below, at the foot of the stairs, and by passing a nearby door she could reach them quietly.
The door was half-open, giving her a glimpse of a man talking into the telephone in a harsh, angry voice. She slipped past, unnoticed, and would have proceeded to the head of the stairs, had not the sound of her own name pulled her up short.
‘Signora Helena Veretti, I suppose we must call her, though it goes against the grain.’
Slowly she moved backwards until she could just make him out again. He had his back to her, but suddenly he turned, giving her a glimpse of his face and making her pull back sharply.
Salvatore Veretti.
She might be mistaken. She had only an old photograph to go on.
But there was no mistake about what he was saying.
‘I can’t think why she’s not here yet. I came to Larezzo to see if any of the staff had heard anything, but they all swear blind that there’s been no sign of her.’
Now she was glad that she’d learned Venetian dialect, for without it she wouldn’t have understood a word, although the ill-will in his tone was unmistakeable.
‘Don’t ask me what happened to the stupid woman. It doesn’t really matter, except that I don’t like being kept waiting.’
Really! thought Helena with wry humour.
‘Whenever she arrives I’m ready for her. I know just what to expect; some smart miss on the make who married Antonio to get her hands on his money. She may have fooled him, but she won’t fool me. If she thinks she’s going to take over here, she’s mistaken. And if she thinks I don’t know the kind of woman she is, she’s even more mistaken.’
There was a pause, during which Helena reckoned the other party was actually managing to get a word in edgeways. It didn’t last long.
‘It’s no problem. She won’t know what Larezzo is worth, and she’ll jump at whatever I offer. If not, if she’s mad enough to try to keep the place, I’ll simply drive her to the wall, then buy her out for peanuts. Yes, that’s fighting dirty. So what? It’s the way to get results, and this is one result I’m determined to get. I’ll call you later.’
Helena moved away quickly, hurrying down the stairs to rejoin the party. Now she was seething.
She’d been ready to do a reasonable deal, but this man wasn’t reasonable. He wasn’t even civilised. And his behaviour was beyond bearing.
If she thinks I don’t know the kind of woman she is…
Those words burned into her consciousness.
I’ll tell you the kind of woman I am, she mused. The kind who won’t put up with your behaviour, that’s for sure. The kind who’ll give you a black eye and enjoy doing it. That kind.
Right! If that’s how you want to play it, I enjoy a good fight.
CHAPTER TWO
HELENA slipped quietly back into the group, relieved that nobody seemed to have noticed her absence. Rico, the guide, was announcing the end of the tour.
‘But before we take you back, you will please honour us by accepting some refreshment. This way please.’
He led them into a room where a long table was laid out with cakes, wine and mineral water, and began to serve them. As he was handing a glass to Helena he looked up suddenly, alerted by someone who’d just come in and was calling him in Venetian.
‘Sorry to trouble you, Rico, but do you know where Emilio is?’
Helena recognised the name. Emilio Ganzi had been Antonio’s trusted manager for years.
‘He’s out,’ Rico said, ‘but I’m expecting him back any moment.’
‘Fine, I’ll wait.’
It was him, the man she’d seen in the office, and now Helena had no doubt that this was Salvatore. She stayed discreetly back, taking the chance to study her enemy unobserved.
He bore all the signs of a worthy opponent, she had to admit that. Antonio
