The Girl Behind The Fan (Hidden Women) (18 page)

‘But we haven’t seen each other.’

Ah. It was so tempting then to tell him that I knew that wasn’t entirely the case.

‘We could see each other right this minute. Marco, I know you are in this house. I know you’ve been watching me.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Sarah, this isn’t a conversation we need to have. I shouldn’t have disturbed you. Please, carry on with your work.’

I sat down at the desk and typed a diatribe at high speed.

‘Why do you try to act as though nothing ever happened between us? We may never have been in the same room at the same time, but with your encouragement, I did things I would never have considered without you. Does that really mean so little to you? I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you to hear that I worried you’d set up a webcam in the library but I pushed that to the back of my mind because I trusted you. When you announced that you were throwing a ball in my honour, I started to think that you were the honest person you claimed to be, but then you disappeared.’

‘Sarah, I did not mean to lead you on in any way and I am sorry if I did. I thought that you and I were just having a bit of fun: killing time while we both had to be at our desks. I am sorry you’re disappointed at the way things have worked out – or rather not worked out – between us. I’ve explained my reasons. I’m too busy to have a relationship.’

‘That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. No one is too busy to have a relationship.’

‘I didn’t ask you to come back to Venice. I let you back into my library because I know how important it is to you that you be thorough in your research. Had I known that you would see the existence of Remi Sauvageon’s sketches in my collection as some kind of “sign” that you and I were meant to continue our silly online romance, then I would have had Silvio package them up and send them to Paris instead.’

‘You said that you missed me.’

‘And I did miss you, in the way that I miss lots of my friends when I’m working too hard, but you have to let go of the idea that we can ever be more than friends.’

‘We’re hardly even that, having never actually met.’

‘Then perhaps we should just leave this conversation where it is and get back to our respective lives. You are, of course, welcome to stay in the library until you’ve finished everything you wanted to get done. Goodbye.’

Is that it?

I sent another message into the void.

That was it. Marco Donato had nothing more to say to me.

I glared at the wall that held the secret door, willing it to open, willing him to step out from his cave and tell me to my face that I should give up on him. If he was watching me still, he did not respond to my challenge. I had to give up. I picked up my dress from the floor and pulled it on. I buttoned it quickly, suddenly wanting to hide myself away.

If the book in front of me hadn’t been a priceless original sketchbook by one of the world’s greatest Impressionist painters, I would have swept it off the desk and onto the floor. I was so angry. Marco Donato was such an asshole! He had let me try to seduce him, then talked to me as though I were some stupid schoolgirl with an inappropriate crush.

I put Remi Sauvageon’s book back into its protective covering, shut down my laptop and loaded it into my bag. Forget staying in the library until I’d finished everything I wanted to get done. I just wanted to get out of there. I felt stupid and humiliated. If Marco wanted to obliterate every shred of friendship we’d built up over the past few months then he had done a damn good job.

I would leave Venice as soon as I could. Not that night, because Nick and Bea were expecting to see me, but first thing the following morning. Never mind that I had one of the best rooms at the Palazzo Bauer and I didn’t have to pay for it. I just wanted to be a long way away from anything that reminded me of Marco Donato. I didn’t need to stay in a city where even one person considered me unwelcome.

Chapter 24

I met Nick and Bea again that evening. It was a Friday and they didn’t need much encouragement to embark upon a truly epic night, fuelled by innumerable spritzes and three bottles of prosecco.

It was so nice to be in their company, though frustrating too. I was longing to tell someone about my latest experience in the library but of course I couldn’t tell anyone. I mean, how would the conversation have gone? ‘Hey? Guess what? I took off all my clothes in the library again and brought myself to a climax while a man I’ve never met sent instructions via laptop from his secret room.’

What kind of response would I get to a story like that? Instead, I regaled my friends with stories about the lives of the great courtesans of Paris. I stuck to history. That was what I did best and, of course, I had a willing audience in my fellow historians.

We sat outside the bar, as usual. It was a tiny place and, even on the coldest nights, the clientele spilled out onto the bridge opposite. While Nick was inside, getting the last bottle of prosecco, Bea raised the subject I had thought I would avoid.

‘So?’ she said. ‘Did you see him?’

‘Who?’ I bluffed.

‘Who! The mysterious billionaire. Marco Donato.’

‘Of course not.’

‘Has he emailed you since you’ve been here?’

I thought about lying but instead I nodded. ‘He has.’

‘And was it the same as before?’

‘No. It wasn’t.’

‘Good. It was all a bit strange, him emailing a hundred times a day but refusing to meet up. You don’t need strange,’ said Bea. ‘I don’t understand why it ever attracted you.’

I couldn’t claim to understand myself, though I tried to elaborate for Bea.

‘I felt like I knew him,’ I said. ‘We wrote to each other so often. He seemed to be so open and vulnerable. He was in my head all the time.’

‘It was just a way of distracting yourself over Steven,’ Bea suggested. ‘And now you’re properly over Steven – or so you say – you don’t need that crutch any more.’

And then Nick was back and the conversation was over as quickly as it had begun. He poured out three glasses. We toasted each other. We toasted Venice. We toasted each other again. Then Nick toasted me.

‘Sarah. We’re so happy to have you back.’

Bea gave me a sly look.

Later, I invited Nick into the hotel for a drink. After all, I wouldn’t be paying.

We’d drunk an awful lot that night. I don’t think anyone would be surprised by what happened next.

The bar at the Bauer was closed by the time we got back there, so we went up to my suite and opened the minibar. It was still so balmy outside there was no question that we would sit on the balcony. I had noticed that when the days were so hot, the citizens of Venice became nocturnal. The canal was still busy with people making the most of the slight drop in temperature before the sun came back up and it was too hot to be out again.

Nick and I positioned ourselves on two chairs, looking out over the scene. The moon was almost full. It cast a silvery sheen over the inky blue water. There was a sense of magic taking place, as there always was in Venice at night. It was as though we had fallen through a tear in the fabric of time and might be anywhere in the continuum from three hundred years past to three hundred years into the future. I made the observation to Nick.

‘Being in Venice is like being in a loop in reality,’ he agreed. ‘It’s quite humbling to think that this place hasn’t changed in so long and isn’t likely to change much for generations to come either. But it’s quite liberating too, to realise that it doesn’t really matter what we do. The city will outlive us. The world will outlive us. We’re unlikely even to be a footnote in its history.’

That much was true. I thought about Luciana. If she hadn’t left her diary, who would know anything about her at all? And Augustine. How many of their contemporaries had been completely forgotten?

‘So what you’re saying is, we should eat, drink and behave as badly as we like because no one will remember?’

‘Pretty much. I certainly don’t think I’ll remember a great deal tomorrow morning,’ said Nick, as he examined the label on the bottle we had barely begun.

‘Me neither.’

‘In that case . . .’

Nick got up from his chair and walked over to mine. He pulled me to my feet. And then he kissed me.

Nick’s kiss was so gentle. It was full of meaning and yet there was no real sense of expectation. I had held him at arm’s length for so long. But this time was different. When Nick pulled away from me, I took hold of his collar and pulled him close again. This time, I was the one planting my lips on his. Nick was clearly startled. He froze, with his hands fanned out stiffly at his sides, as though I had slapped him on either side of the face with a kipper instead of a kiss.

‘Sarah,’ he began.

‘Don’t talk,’ I said. ‘Just kiss me again.’

Nick didn’t need to be asked twice. Right there on the balcony, we embraced as ardently as any of the city’s lovers that night. I needed to be held. I needed to feel attractive. I was so frustrated by that morning’s events in the library that I was ready to do anything. I let my hands roam all over Nick’s back, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric of the shirt. I felt his hands begin their own tentative exploration. Why shouldn’t we do this, I thought.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a gondola. It seemed to pause in the middle of the canal, as though waiting for something. Watching. The
felce
might have been empty, but I had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t and, furthermore, that it contained someone I knew.

‘Shall we—?’ Nick asked.

‘I—’ I was momentarily lost for words. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.’

Once again, I left him hanging.

Nick shrugged and picked up his jacket.

I cringed when I considered what I had done to poor Nick. I had needed a boost to my ego and he had been kind enough to provide one. If I hadn’t seen that gondola, would I have carried on? Why did it stop me, anyway? Was it because it reminded me of Luciana’s lover? And, by extension, of Marco? It wouldn’t have been him. It couldn’t.

Splashing water on my face, I chastised myself for having taken advantage of Nick. It was a good job it had not gone further. I mean, it was bad enough as it was but at least I wasn’t going to have to wake up beside him. Thank goodness I would be gone first thing in the morning.

I bustled around the room, throwing my clothes back into my suitcase in preparation for my early start.

What was the matter with me? Why did I persist in banging my head against a brick wall? If Marco wanted to keep me at arm’s length or keep himself hidden away in that little secret office, then all I could do was leave him to his hermit-like misery. It didn’t matter that he had drawn those beautiful pictures of me and that I was certain he had fallen in love just as I had. I had to forget those drawings. It was too complicated. Too difficult. I didn’t need a tortured and tortuous sort of love. I had to move on. Just like Augustine.

The following morning, I had the hotel concierge order a water-taxi to take me to the airport. I learned, alas, that there really was no other way to get out to the Lido except by going onto the Grand Canal and past the Palazzo Donato. But this time, as I passed the house, I did not strain for one last glimpse of a beloved face at a window. Instead, I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the houses on the opposite side of the canal. Marco Donato no longer existed for me.

Chapter 25

Paris, 1840

Remi was lost to me. I was entirely on my own again, just as I had been when my mother died. But that felt like a hundred lifetimes ago. Back then, newly orphaned in the attic room at Monsieur Griff’s house, I was naive and thought that everything would work out for the best if only I prayed hard enough. Now I had a less hopeful view of the world. People were not as they first appeared. You could not rely on their kindness.

That said, my neighbours in the Rue de Seine helped me whenever they could, but in truth they had as little to their names as I did. I could not continue to rely on their charity. I had to look further afield. I had experience as a lady’s maid, of course, but who would want to take me on when the only position I had ever held was in the house of a courtesan? And the way my employment there had ended! If even a courtesan would not give me a good letter of recommendation, why should any decent woman take a risk?

But then, about two weeks after Remi left my arms, I saw Elaine in the market. I had expected her to ignore me as she’d told me Arlette commanded after my last visit, but instead she grabbed my hands and kissed me as though I were a long lost sister.

‘You poor thing!’ she said. ‘I heard what that posh bastard did to you.’

‘How?’ I asked.

‘You stayed with Jeanne-Marie.’ Elaine rolled her eyes. ‘How could I not hear? She’s the biggest gossip in the whole of Paris. But what are you doing now?’

I told her my predicament. No lover, no job and rapidly running out of favours.

‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘Arlette has dismissed three maids since Remi spirited you off. Now that he’s off the scene, she will be delighted to have you back.’