Page 14 of A Chance in a Million
‘No swimming. Got that?’
He just wagged his tail harder and she unclipped the lead. He set off at a gallop along a broad strip of grass beside the canal and she followed. There weren’t many people walking about and as a result she and the dog had a fine run and she was able to relax and just concentrate on her cadence. A daily run had been a regular feature of her army life and this simple activity stirred memories, but now she was almost able to think back on her former life with nostalgia rather than remorse. Being out in the fresh air gave her time to reflect on her first two weeks in Venice and she had to admit that it was working out far better than she might have hoped. Her boss was not the dragon she had feared and her accommodation was spectacular; she was beginning to make a few friends, was feeling more cheerful, not to mention she had found herself a lovely canine companion and a good-looking man who appeared interested in her. Now all she had to do was to figure out if she was interested in him.
Chapter 8
Monday’s trip to Mantua was fascinating. Veronica insisted they take the big Mercedes rather than the little Fiat but Jane didn’t mind in the slightest. She had got used to driving big vehicles in the army, although they had been nothing as luxurious as this modern automatic car with feather soft suspension and comfortable leather-clad interior. On the way there Veronica was soon chatting freely and appeared genuinely excited at the prospect of what would apparently be one of her very first outings since her husband’s death. When Jane had told Maria what they were planning, the response had been delight that Veronica was venturing out of the house at last. The elderly housekeeper had caught hold of Jane by the shoulders and kissed her on the cheeks, telling her she was a miracle worker.
In response to Jane’s queries as they drove along the autostrada, Veronica told her more about her life from her early years as a school teacher – surprisingly maths, not English – to becoming a world-renowned author. In return, Jane told her about her own dreams of becoming a published author. Veronica then asked the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.
‘So what are you planning on writing, or have you already started?’
Jane didn’t reply immediately; by then they had reached the outskirts of Padua where the traffic had intensified noticeably and the cars in front of her all started slowing down and braking. Alvise had warned her that this stretch of the main Venice to Milan motorway was notorious for heavy traffic and he was being proved right. However, after a minute or two it gradually started to speed up again and she relaxed once more.
‘That’s the problem, I just can’t decide. I love romance novels – particularly those with a happy ending – and I’ve devoured almost all of your books. The thing is, though, I also rather like the idea of something with a bit more action.’
‘Why not combine the two? Have you actually sat down and made a start on anything?’
‘While I was doing my Masters I wrote a couple of short novellas as assignments – one a romance and the other an attempt at a thriller.’
‘And which did your tutors prefer?’
‘Annoyingly, one preferred the thriller and one the romance, so I’m sort of back to square one.’
‘Would you like me to read them and tell you what I think?’
Jane nodded heartily. ‘That would be amazing, thank you, but don’t expect too much. These are very much first steps and I’m still just finding my way. I’d be ever so grateful if you could look at them, but only if you can spare the time.’
‘Spare the time?’ Jane heard her snort. ‘I’m bored stiff these days. I used to spend five, six hours a day at the typewriter. Now I find myself with all that spare time and I don’t know what else to do.’ There was a catch in her voice now. ‘That’s why I lie in bed so much. At least if I’m in bed I don’t feel quite so listless.’
‘But you said you don’t sleep much. Does that mean you just lie there and stare at the ceiling?’
‘For hours on end.’
Jane decided to take a chance and pop the question that had been uppermost in her mind ever since learning of her new employer’s identity. ‘So what’s stopping you writing again?’ There was silence for several minutes and she was beginning to fear that she had overstepped the mark when she heard Veronica reply, thankfully in even tones.
‘Don’t think I haven’t tried. Time after time I’ve sat myself down at the typewriter, put in a clean sheet of paper, and tried to make a start. Regular as clockwork I find myself still sitting there two or three hours later still staring at that blank page. I’m afraid that bird has flown.’
‘You’re saying your muse has left you?’
‘I’m saying exactly that. I used to have ideas for plotlines piling up in my head and scribbled on odd bits of paper all over my desk but ever since Peter, my husband, passed away, I seem to have run out of any kind of inspiration. Grief can do that to a person.’ A more tender note entered her voice. ‘But you maybe know all about that.’
Jane just nodded. ‘It can be tough.’
An hour or so later she saw the signs for Mantua and turned off the autostrada. Although there had been the foothills of the Alps off to their right as they drove from Venice past Padua, Vicenza and Verona, the countryside down here was as flat as a pancake and the temperature and humidity were, if anything, even higher here than in Venice. Reluctantly leaving the air-conditioned car, they walked past the imposing bulk of the Palazzo Ducale into thecentro storico. The very air they breathed was hot. Beside her she heard Veronica sigh.
‘It’s only the middle of June and it’s boiling already – and it’s only going to get hotter and hotter. I can’t wait for us to head for the hills.’
‘At the end of the month, you said?’
‘Yes, I was planning on going in two weeks’ time but if it carries on getting hotter and stickier, we might do well to go sooner. Besides, Italian school holidays are starting any day now so the crowds in Venice are going to get worse and worse. When we get back home, I’ll have a word with Maria and see how she feels about shutting up the house and going as soon next week.’
‘And will you stay with your mother-in-law?’
‘In the same building but she has her own part and we have ours.’
Jane wondered if the old lady’s alleged feistiness made for an awkward relationship with her daughter-in-law but decided not to ask anything so personal. She would find out in due course. ‘Is it a long journey?’
‘Not too long – shorter than today, an hour and a half or so. Because of the dog and all our stuff, we’d better go in two cars. Would you mind driving one and Alvise the other?’
