Page 15 of Her New Year Baby Secret

The envelope was thick, more like an invitation than a piece of office stationery, and it took Sophie a couple of moments to open it and pull out a piece of crisp white paper. She unfolded it and scanned the brief lines.

Sophie,

Please accept my most sincere apologies but I am unavoidably detained. Gianni will escort you to my mother’s house and I will see you at the party this evening.

A dopo,

Marco

No kiss, she noted. What did that mean in a time when even her dentist included an X on her check-up reminder? Pocketing the note, she smiled at Gianni. ‘Thank you for coming to meet me. I’m ready whenever you are.’

She’d spoken too soon. As she got her first glimpse of Venice Sophie realised that nothing could have prepared her for her first glimpse of the magnificent island city. Gianni led her out of the airport and, instead of heading to a car park, Sophie found herself at a dock. ‘This way, please,’ Gianni said, briskly walking her past the ferry port and the queues for the water taxis. Sophie wanted to stop and take in the strange sight of passengers embarking onto a row of boats, swaying on the gangplanks as they tried to balance their suitcases. All around her, voices exclaimed, yelled and barked in a mixture of languages, the fresh salt smell of the sea mixing with the less romantic scent of diesel.

They walked on for another few minutes until Gianni gestured her forward onto a gangplank that led onto a gleaming wooden boat. Two seats at the front were shielded from the elements by a simple screen and a further three comfortable-looking leather benches were arranged around the walls of the small glassed-in cabin. Gianni heaved her suitcase and bag onto the cabin floor, but when he gestured for Sophie to step inside she shook her head. ‘Oh, please, can I sit up front, next to you? I’ve never been to Venice before.’

Gianni cast an assessing look at her quilted coat and the black velvet jeans she’d chosen to travel in. ‘Sì, but it gets cold on the sea. Do you have a hat?’

‘And a scarf and gloves,’ Sophie assured him as she took her place beside the driver’s seat—or pilot’s seat. She wasn’t entirely sure of the correct term for a boat driver.

It took just a few moments for Gianni to cast off the ropes and expertly manoeuvre the boat out of the dock and around the fleet of ferries, water taxis and hotel boats out into the lagoon. Sophie sucked in a breath of sheer exhilaration as the boat accelerated through the clear blue water and headed towards the most beautiful place she’d ever seen. The island city rose out of the water like a stately dame.

‘“Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety”,’ Sophie quoted as the bell tower in St Mark’s Square came into view. It seemed so familiar and yet so new—a picture she’d seen a thousand times and yet never really got until now. Sophie’s heart squeezed and she knew she would always love this ancient city. It was in her blood already, taking further root with every breath.

She couldn’t speak as Gianni steered the boat into the Grand Canal, just stared, almost overcome by the beauty all around her. Boats passed them, turning down narrow canals, bridges arched overhead and, glancing down a canal on her right, Sophie thrilled as she saw a boat piled high with a colourful variety of fruit and vegetables moored to the side, the owner twisting up produce in paper bags as he sold to eager customers.

It wasn’t just the beauty of the city, it was the life thrumming through it. This was no museum, a place existing merely for the multitudes of tourists. It was a living, breathing place—and for the next two days she would be part of it. Would belong.

At that moment the boat began to turn and headed towards a small gangplank and a set of stairs leading directly to a door to an imposing cream-coloured building right on the Grand Canal. What was going on? She’d done a little research and knew that the hotels overlooking the famous canal were exorbitant. Sophie had expected a little B & B somewhere further out of the city. ‘Wait, where are you going?’

Gianni looked puzzled. ‘To Palazzo Santoro, of course. Signor Santoro asked me to convey you directly.’

‘The palazzo?’ Sophie’s hands tightened on the side of the boat. Marco hadn’t mentioned a palazzo—especially not one right on the Grand Canal. Her stomach twisted. Girls from the Manchester suburbs didn’t belong in places like this—not unless they were serving drinks. She took a deep breath. Palazzo probably didn’t mean anything grand. Maybe Marco’s mother had a flat in this building. No one actually owned a building this big, no one Sophie was ever going to meet.

Before she could completely gather her thoughts the boat had stilled and Gianni was lifting her bags out of the back of the boat and extending a hand to help her disembark. Sophie climbed gingerly over the side of the boat and followed Gianni, treading carefully up the stone steps. He rapped smartly on the door and, as it opened, set Sophie’s bags inside, gave her a friendly nod and ran lightly back down the steps and into the boat. She looked around wildly, hoping for a clue as to where exactly she was going, but all she could see was the open door. And her suitcase and travel bag were inside.

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