Page 18 of The Affair
She waited till the crocodile had disappeared down one of the narrow alleyways to the south of the piazza, then went and found a table in the sunshine and ordered her hot chocolate. It came with about three inches of whipped cream sprinkled with chocolate flakes in a glass with a metal handle and she just stared at it, appreciating its beauty, before plunging in her teaspoon and dragging up some hot, creamydeliciousness, shutting her eyes to savour the sweetness rolling over her tongue.
As she sat there, she found herself thinking disloyally of Jared – Italy evoked him. And without the constraint of being with Devan, she made no attempt to quell her musings. She wondered if he’d ever thought of her since that night on Lake Como. She laughed to herself.A fleeting kiss, yet it sets my ageing heart aflutter, she thought wryly.
‘Connie?’
She jumped as a hand dropped lightly onto her shoulder. She spun around, expecting to see one of her group, left behind already by Gianni’s imperious march through the crowded back streets.
‘Jared …’ Her breath caught in her throat. It shocked her to see him there – almost as if she’d magicked him up with her thoughts. For a moment she thought she must be mistaken – the morning sun was so bright behind his head that it left his face in shadow.
He was entirely composed, however, as he smiled and pulled out a chair. ‘May I?’
She managed a nod, her heart flapping uncomfortably beneath her ribs. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Just staying with friends for a few days. They own one of those damp, crumbling palazzos on the canal. Just can’t resist Venice in the spring.’ He nodded towards her drink. ‘I see you’re getting stuck into the local delights.’
‘What an incredible coincidence, bumping into eachother,’ Connie said, still stunned that Jared was actually there, sitting calmly at her table.
He gave her a knowing smile and tapped the side of his nose. ‘Ah, well, not entirely coincidence. I overheard a woman in the queue for the Doge’s Palace chatting to her friend. “We have to be back to meet Connie by twelve,” she said. And I just knew it must be you … so I’ve been wandering around looking for you ever since.’
He was wearing sunglasses and she couldn’t read his eyes, but he was giving her a self-congratulatory grin. And, unlike her, seemed perfectly at ease as he ordered his coffee.
‘Still strange,’ she said, trying to calm herself. ‘Us being here in Venice at the exact same time.’
Jared smiled. ‘True. But I’m a firm believer in synergy.’
When his coffee arrived, he stirred the chocolate carefully into the foam. ‘It’s good to see you, Connie.’
There was an obvious reply, but Connie couldn’t say it.Is it good to see Jared?On one level, yes. She found, against her will, that the frisson his presence engendered was agreeable. But on another level, no. She didn’t want him here, didn’t want to be reminded of that kiss.
‘When you’ve finished your chocolate, there’s something I’d love to show you,’ Jared was saying.
Her peaceful drink had been ruined by his presence. Now she finished it almost unconsciously, desperate for something to do, something that would distract her from his charming smile. ‘I’m working, Jared. I can’t just swan off.’
Ignoring her reproving tone, he replied, with a sly grin, ‘You don’t have to meet them till twelve, according to your client in the queue.’
She glanced at her watch. ‘Twelve, yes. We’ve got tickets for the basilica this afternoon.’
He raised his sunglasses and she was treated to those extraordinary eyes again. ‘This won’t take long. Half an hour, tops.’ He stood and held out his hand to her. ‘Please … it’s special.’
She did not take his proffered hand as she reluctantly got to her feet. ‘OK. But I have to be back in good time.’
She followed Jared as he wove in and out of the crowded piazza then chose the same street on the south side down which Gianni had earlier led her tour. They wiggled through the maze of alleys, crossed over one canal, then another, to an unassuming white-stone Renaissance building right up against the waterside, not heralded by any billboards or crowds.
Jared pushed open the heavy wooden door. Inside was a small chapel, only dimly lit. It took Connie’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. But what she saw took her breath away. Around the room, above head height, was an array of vividly painted panels.
‘Vittore Carpaccio,’ Jared whispered, although the place was empty, apart from the shadowy figure who had sold them tickets. But the atmosphere was almost reverent. ‘Look, St George and the dragon …’
Connie was no art expert, although she had seen a lot in her time, but she immediately appreciated thevibrant charm and humour, the drama and detail of the paintings: St George’s story on the left-hand wall, St Jerome’s on the right.
‘Don’t you love the horrible dragon?’ Jared said. And as they moved round, ‘Look at the terrified monks fleeing from St Jerome’s lion.’ And then further round, ‘Isn’t the little dog with St Augustine cute?’
‘They’re fantastic,’ she said, almost forgetting that her guide was Jared Temple, and that she was supposed to be working, as she studied the beautifully executed narratives. When they finally emerged into the blinding sunshine, she felt dazed.
Jared was eyeing her. ‘Worth it?’
She grinned. ‘Oh, my goodness, Jared. So worth it.’
He beamed. ‘I knew you’d like them.’ He took her arm companionably and this time she didn’t resist as they walked back the way they’d come and crossed the bridge in the direction of St Mark’s Square.
