Page 4 of A Chance in a Million
‘Cars, here?’ Jane knew full well that the whole of thecentro storicothat wasn’t under water was a pedestrian zone.
‘They’re kept in a garage near the station and the launch is moored right outside the main entrance of this palazzo.’
Jane indicated the door behind her. ‘So this isn’t the main entrance?’
‘Goodness, no. Come and I’ll show you around. Leave your bag. Alvise will take it up to your room for you.’
‘Shouldn’t I go and see Lady Cooper first? Or is she too busy?’
Maria shook her head. ‘To be honest, she was feeling a bit tired so she’s having a little nap.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Six o’clock. She should be stirring pretty soon. Come along in.’
Jane followed her through a doorway into a far larger hallway, barely a few feet above the level of the waters of the Grand Canal, which was immediately on the other side of a series of glazed arches. This huge open room, punctuated by hefty brick pillars, was flooded with dappled light as the sun’s rays reflected on the water outside, making it look as if the ceiling was alive. The floor was a complex mosaic composed of swirls made up of squares, triangles and other geometric shapes of marble, stone and ceramic tiles in various colours and ranging in size from an open palm to the smallest fingernail. The overall impression was of looking at the most splendid giant Persian carpet. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
Jane walked across to the windows and looked out. A handful of steps led down to a wooden jetty supported on hefty posts sunk into the bed of the lagoon, the tops painted in rings of red, white and blue, almost like old barber’s poles. She stood there, taking it all in, watching a gondolier scull expertly across the canal, narrowly avoiding a vaporetto and a police launch as he did so. On the other side of the canal were delightful ornate palazzi, one more charming than the other, no two the same, and all in different states of preservation. Alongside freshly decorated façades were weathered buildings, painted in sun-bleached pinks and creams, the plaster ravaged by the passage of the centuries and the elements, but all of them combining to produce the incomparable spectacle that is Venice. It was a wonderful view.
‘Is this your first visit to Venice?’ Maria must have noticed the awed look on Jane’s face.
‘Yes, and it’s absolutely amazing. This palazzo, is it very old?’
‘They say it was built in 1603.’
Jane caught her breath. So this place was over four hundred years old. The idea of living in such an ancient – and exquisite – building as this was an enchanting prospect.
‘Come on up to the living room and let me get you something to drink. Some tea, maybe? I know you English like to drink tea in the afternoon.’ Jane followed her across to a sweeping marble staircase that led them up to the main living area, no doubt safely above the levels of the infamousacqua altafloods that had plagued the city for centuries.
Nice as a cup of tea sounded, Jane knew that an ice-cold beer would have been even more appealing, but she was quick to accept. The first floor, orpiano nobileas Maria told her they called it here, had much higher ceilings, supported by hefty wooden beams which had been highlighted in intricate patterns of red and gold paint. Maria left her in a huge room with arched windows similar to the hall below and with enormous four tier chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, sparkling in the evening sunlight. Jane stood and gazed out over the busy scene that opened up in front of her. It was like stepping back in time and she could imagine beautiful ladies in ornate dresses and wigs, accompanied by handsome men wearing tights and carrying swords, being ferried about on the Grand Canal.
After a few minutes, her musings were interrupted by, of all things, a cold wet nose prodding her wrist. She looked down to see a fine-looking black Labrador at her side, tail wagging in greeting. She was stroking his ears when she heard a voice.
‘Good afternoon. You must be Captain Reed. Truffaldino, leave the girl alone.’
Jane whirled round and found herself confronted by a tall lady with grey hair. She was probably in her mid to late sixties and she looked weary. There was what might have been an attempt at a smile on her face but even from distance Jane could see dark rings under her eyes that indicated that she maybe didn’t do too much smiling or sleeping. She remembered what Mr Russell had said about the effect the death of her husband had had on her and Jane immediately felt a common bond with the older woman.
‘Lady Cooper? I’m really pleased to meet you.’
They shook hands and Jane studied her more closely. Her new employer was wearing a seriously rumpled cotton dress and her hair was loosely tied behind her head in an untidy ponytail. Jane’s first impression was of a person who looked run-down and careless about her appearance, and it saddened her. Their eyes met and Jane couldn’t miss the fact that she was being closely observed in her turn.
‘Please don’t call me Lady Cooper. I’d prefer it if you used my pen name and, before you ask, Leonard is my maiden name. Seeing as you’ll be principally looking after my alter ego, it’s probably just as well if you try to think of me as Veronica Leonard. I value my privacy, so the fewer people who might associate the two names the better. Besides, the title’s not really mine anyway. It belonged to my husband. I’m just an impostor.’
‘I hardly think so…’ Jane hesitated, wondering how to address her new boss before settling for ‘Miss Leonard’. There was no negative reaction so she decided to stick with it. ‘I’m very excited to have the opportunity to work for such a household name as you, Miss Leonard. I’ve read so many of your books and I love them all.’ She caught her eye. ‘They made for a wonderful bit of escapism when I was on active service.’
‘Ah, yes, you used to be in the army. My husband and my son used to be in the British Army.’ Jane filed this snippet of information away while Miss Leonard continued. ‘Army life was probably a bit different from this, I imagine.’ She nodded her head vaguely towards the spectacle outside the windows before changing tack. ‘You’re very pretty.’ She delivered the compliment deadpan, as if making a simple observation, and Jane didn’t even find herself blushing. ‘Gordon told me he chose you because of your qualifications and experience, but he’s always had a soft spot for a pretty face.’
Jane thought she could hear a note of disapproval and was quick to set the record straight. ‘I’m sure my looks didn’t come into it. At least, I hope not. I’d like to think I got the job on my merits alone.’
Miss Leonard held up her hand wearily. ‘All right, all right, no need to come over all feminist on me. I was just stating a fact.’
Jane felt herself bristle but, fortunately, at that moment Maria reappeared, carrying a silver tray with teapot, cups and saucers and some delicious-looking little cakes. She set it down on a low table and stepped back. Miss Leonard caught Jane’s eye.
‘Sure it’s tea you want? It’s so hot I fancy a glass of something cold.’
‘I’d love something cold but I said yes to Maria’s offer of tea so I feel duty bound to drink it.’
‘Well, you do what you think you must do. I’m having a G&T.’ She glanced over at Maria who was standing by the door. ‘Il solito, Maria, per favore.’ Her Italian accent sounded almost perfect and even a bit Venetian.
Jane noted that she had just asked for her ‘usual’. Could it be that the grieving widow had chosen alcohol as her coping mechanism? Jane hoped not. One of her colleagues in the Sappers had started hitting the bottle heavily – to combat the stress of the job – and had been drummed out of the service as a result. Booze could change lives.
They settled down on comfortable leather sofas facing each other and Jane leant forward to pour herself a cup of tea. As she did so, the dog appeared at her right hand and sat primly beside her, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, his eyes trained unerringly not on her, but on the cakes. Miss Leonard was quick to remind him of his manners.
