Page 32 of A Chance in a Million
They made good time on the canal and Jane couldn’t help noticing that every bridge they passed was packed with tourists. Thank goodness for the boat indeed. They got to the palazzo and she hopped out to help moor up. Once the launch was secure, David led her into the house, stopping to show her how to turn off the alarm and then set it again. She wasn’t surprised to find that the code was 1234.
Once they were inside he tried a light switch, but nothing happened. ‘I thought so. Alvise always switches off the power – the alarm’s on a separate circuit – when we leave the house for any length of time. Come and I’ll switch it on and show you how to turn it off again.’
She followed him through to the kitchen and from there he opened the door to a dark windowless little pantry and beckoned to her. It was cramped in there and she found herself rubbing up against him as he pointed out the fuse board. She caught her breath. There could be no doubt about it: being so close to him might feel a bit awkward but it also felt good. As the realisation took root, so did a feeling of guilt at the thought of what this might mean as far as her feelings towards her former boyfriend were concerned.
Apparently unaware of her discomfort and certainly not displaying any sort of emotion himself, David showed her the switch to flick and, as he did so, light flooded the room and brought her back to her senses. He was only showing her how to turn the electricity on – it wasn’t as if he was propositioning her, after all. Muttering ‘Get a grip,’ under her breath, she thanked him and they arranged to meet back at the car at four o’clock. This should give him ample time for his tooth to be fixed and should give her time to locate a suitable dress for the wedding, but they exchanged phone numbers just in case.
After he had gone off, she went up to Veronica’s bedroom – the first time she had been in here – and located the jumpers and shoes. Opening the window, she pushed one shutter open so she could look out over the roofs of the city, as ever admiring this incomparable view that had changed so little since Renaissance times. By the window, facing out, was Veronica’s desk with the battered old typewriter on it. Alongside this was an untouched ream of paper and the desolate scene made her feel deeply saddened. That a great author could lose the will to write as the result of a broken heart was truly touching. Somehow this highlighted just what love really was: a force so powerful it could stifle creativity and snuff out a successful career in an instant.
Inevitably she thought of her own career and how it had ended. Had she left the regiment because of what had happened to Mark, what had happened to herself, or for some other reason? The fact was that she had already been thinking about leaving when her initial term came to an end, partly because of stress, but mainly because she had been longing for a bit of permanence in her nomadic lifestyle. Of course the memory of what had happened that day in Fallujah would never leave her and would forever remain embedded within her, but there had been more to it than that. She had needed a change and she had certainly got that now.
Resting her elbows on the window sill she stared out over the ever-changing spectacle of the Grand Canal and found herself questioning – for the very first time – just how deep her feelings for Mark had been. Had his death deprived her of the one and only man there would ever be in her life? They had been together for a year before that fateful day in Iraq and she had liked him a lot and, if asked, she felt sure she would have said she loved him. But now, thinking back on it, could she honestly say she had truly loved him? Had he really been The One? Had she loved him as deeply as Veronica had loved her husband?
The answer was that she didn’t know. And now, of course, she never would.
Rousing herself from her introspection she closed the shutter and window and was just about to leave the bedroom when her eyes landed on a series of photos in silver frames standing on the ornate marble mantelpiece. Out of curiosity she walked over to take a closer look and switched on the light so she could see better. The middle one showed a much younger Veronica standing in front of the ornate pillared entrance arches of the basilica of San Marco. Beside her was the handsome figure of her husband with a little toddler between them, hanging onto their hands and clearly fascinated by a nearby pigeon. Presumably this was David. Holding her mother’s other hand was five- or six-year-old Beatrice, already recognisable. In a silver frame to the left of this photo was a studio portrait of Beatrice and teenage Diana, both dolled up to the eyeballs in readiness for a formal soirée, and on the other side was a framed photograph of David that almost took Jane’s breath away.
He was in the full-dress uniform of a captain in the Rifles and he looked good. Without the beard, without all the hair, she realised he was startlingly good-looking, and with a confident smile on his face she found him fascinating. He had high cheekbones and a resolute jaw similar to his father, and his looks coupled with his athletic physique came as a shock to the system for Jane and she actually felt that selfsame shiver of what could only be described as desire flash through her. To her own considerable surprise she pulled out her phone, glanced apprehensively over her shoulder to check that the real David hadn’t come back, and took a quick photo of the photo. Just why she did this was not something she chose to debate for now so she stuffed her phone away guiltily, put Veronica’s clothes into a bag, and headed out of the room.
She went up to her own apartment on the top floor to check that all was well there before coming back down to thepiano nobile. Everything looked fine here, although the white dust sheets that Maria and Alvise had stretched over the furniture gave the place a rather ghostly feel, not helped by the fact that the louvred shutters were closed and the only light came in thin strips that gave the wooden floor the appearance of a toast rack. Finally she went to the side door, collected the envelopes and magazines that were lying on the doormat, and returned to the pantry where she turned off the mains switch, plunging the rooms into darkness. Then, after setting the alarm as David had shown her, she locked up again and went out into the clammy heat of a July afternoon and did battle with the crowds.
Fighting her way back to the car along the main thoroughfare – barely a few metres wide in places – squeezing through the mass of tourists, delivery men with barrows and street vendors, was hard work but not as difficult as selecting a dress for Fergus and Ginny’s wedding. She had no intention of turning up in anything too revealing or too flashy and it took a lot of time before she ended up buying a floral print dress which looked fairly good on her, if not exactly dazzling. She told herself that at least this meant she wouldn’t draw attention away from the bride.
When she reached the garage she found David already there, just finishing securing the cover on the launch. He looked up as she appeared and she gave him a little wave.
‘Toothache sorted?’
‘All good, thanks. And you?’
‘Yes, the house is fine, I got the bits and pieces your mum wanted and I bought a dress for the wedding.’
She was gratified to see his eyebrows raise. ‘The wedding?’
‘A fellow officer from the Sappers is getting married next month and I needed something to wear. I haven’t done much clothes shopping over the past few years.’ She wondered if this might elicit some reaction from him and was pleasantly surprised to find that it did.
‘Where’s the wedding taking place; here in Italy?’
‘No, back in the UK, in a village near Bath.’
‘I imagine it’ll be nice to see your old friends again.’ This was just about the first spontaneous observation of an even vaguely personal nature he had made to her. Might this be progress?
‘Yes and no – I’m not so sure. I’m a bit nervous about it, to be honest. It’ll be the first time I’ll be catching up with my former comrades in over two years.’
‘You haven’t stayed in touch with them?’
‘I haven’t really stayed in touch with anybody.’ She caught his eye. ‘I’m afraid my departure from the regiment wasn’t exactly the way I would have planned it. I’ll tell you about it some time.’
‘Don’t feel you need to tell me anything.’ Although this could have sounded dismissive, it almost brought a lump to Jane’s throat. It was as though he was saying he wasn’t worthy of knowing her secret. She very nearly told him she would tell him her story if he would reveal his but, instead, she just followed him to the car in silence.
Chapter 18
Next morning she awoke to find the sun shining brightly from a clear blue sky and she decided the time had come for her to do a bit more exploration of the Colli Euganei. She was just finishing a late breakfast when there was a knock at the door. It was Veronica.
Jane hadn’t seen her last night when she and David had returned from Venice and she had given him the clothes and the mail to deliver to her. ‘Hi, Veronica. I’m just making coffee. Interested?’
‘Thank you, I’d love one.’ Veronica came in, taking evasive action as a dark shape squeezed past her legs and came bounding in to say hello to Jane, who bent down to stroke him.
‘Ciao, Dino, you’re looking bouncy today. Maybe you feel like coming for a good long W – A – L – K with me later on.’
