Page 14

‘Yes, they can. But you see, I both wanted my daughter more than anything and also hated her because she tied me to Simon.’ She laughs bitterly. ‘And now I live the life I do because I am evil.’

‘You are not.’

She slowly shakes her head. ‘I like the way you see me.’ The corner of her mouth lifts, and in that moment, it is clear she understands how attractive I find her.

The waiter hovers and pours us more wine. My head is swamped from the alcohol and her revelations.

‘Please don’t let what I’ve said trouble you.’ She glances at the view again. ‘I have made my bed and I lie in it.’

‘But you could leave him. How long have you been married?’

‘Almost sixteen years.’ She sips her wine. ‘On what grounds could I divorce him? He is faithful and he needs me.’ Her mouth twists and a bitter sound escapes from her lips.

The waiter clears our plates and asks about a sweet course.

I shake my head, but Katherine asks for truffles and another glass of wine.

She drinks to live her life, but Simon isn’t here right now and she doesn’t need to be drunk with me.

I want to take her by the hand, pull her off the train at the next stop and tell her to forget the past, but instead I accept the chocolate she offers me.

I’m no match for her sophistication, nor for the attachment she has to a man who belittles her.

I am merely a twenty-year-old artist trying to find my way.

* * *

There is a tap on the door and the attendant speaks my name. He knocks with more force. ‘Madame Forster has sent me with tea. May I enter?’ he asks. His voice is muffled, or maybe it’s my hearing.

I must have fallen asleep. ‘Come in.’

‘I shall put the tray on the table.’ He doesn’t look at me. ‘It is four o’clock.’

My head throbs and my mouth is parched. As I pour the tea, I notice that Katherine’s things are gone. A note is propped against the lamp.

My poor dear little bird,

I have broken you. I am sorry. Take the two tablets once you wake. I added the peacock gown to your bag. It suited you so. You shall embrace your plumage one day, for you could never be a little wren.

K x

My heart stills. Is this her farewell?

I scan the room and spy my bag. On the top is my sketchbook, which I had tucked away. My face flames. It might be just as well if she has left. She knows how I feel about her. I slap my hands to my face. Oh God, what does she think of me?

I sink onto the sofa and drink some tea, looking at the two white tablets, which I assume are aspirin. I swallow them. This is not how I wanted to arrive in Venice. Outside the window the countryside is beautiful, but looking at it passing by turns my stomach.

The train is full of noise as passengers prepare for arrival. Another knock on the door.

‘Enter.’

‘Mademoiselle Kernow, I shall take care of your bags. Do you wish to go to the dining car to watch as the train comes into Venice?’

I almost say no, but I nod, taking the small bag holding my documents with me. In the corridor, I hesitate. What if Venice doesn’t work its magic on me? What will I do then?

‘Pardon me,’ a man’s voice says in an accent I don’t recognise.

I step aside, then walk towards the dining car, hoping to see Katherine.

Her tablets are working. My headache is going but my stomach is still a bit hollow.

She is not there, but Marlene Dietrich is.

Her glance meets mine. I hesitate, but she smiles and beckons me.

I join her at a table by the window. Soon we will be crossing the lagoon and the train will arrive in Venice.

The quality of the light changes as we begin to cross.

On the right-hand side the new road bridge runs parallel.

In my head, I hear Forster telling me that Mussolini opened it last year.

I push his intrusive voice away and drink in the scenery.

It reminds me a bit of home. Something to do with the water and the sunlight creating a different palette of colours.

Here, though, the sky is more phthalo blue, unlike at home, where if it isn’t raining it’s mostly ultramarine.

‘Where is she?’ Marlene asks.

I shrug and close my eyes for a moment. When I open them again, the lagoon is filled with boats, both sail and motor. I don’t know where to look and want to burn the view into my mind.

‘So, you are scorned.’

I blink, not sure how to respond.

‘There will be others.’ She rises. ‘We have come to the station. May Venice dazzle you with her beauty and fulfil your dreams.’ ‘If only,’ I say as she takes my hand.

‘Be careful what you wish for,’ she says, and heads towards the front of the train.

I walk in the opposite direction, uncertain how this will all work out. As I reach the compartment, the train comes to a stop. The attendant opens the door and helps me off.

‘One moment and your bags will be here,’ he says.

I scan the platform for Katherine, but I can’t find her. Part of me is relieved, but the other part is desolate. She is so bright and everything revolves around her, especially when that dreadful man isn’t about. He flattens her and hides her light.

But I mustn’t think on that now. I’m in Venice, and that is what is important.

My mother wrote of her first sight of the city, and I wait almost breathlessly to lose my heart to it.

Images from her sketches in the diary fill my head.

My fingers curl, longing to create my own, even though the city is a complete mystery to me.

This is not the journey I imagined, but it is one I will never forget.

Further along the platform I see Katherine being embraced by another woman.

She appears different yet again. I could never alter myself that much or as frequently.

I’m simply Sheba Kernow, once known as Baba. I am the black sheep, stealing away.

‘Mademoiselle Kernow, shall I ask a porter to arrange a boat for you?’

I consider the cost, but then look at my easel and other awkward items. This is one time when spending money makes sense.

‘Yes please,’ I say, smoothing my sweaty palms down the legs of my trousers before handing him a tip.

He has a few words with a porter, and before long we are out of the station.

On the threshold, I pause, taking a deep breath.

It is not the smell I expected. Dead fish, drains and something else I can’t pinpoint.

The early-evening sun beats down relentlessly.

I will need a hat and some cooler clothing.

It will only become warmer as the days progress.

While the porter and I wait for a boat, I catch sight of Katherine in a gondola heading to the right.

In a city like Venice, I doubt I will ever see her again.

My chest tightens and tears threaten. I pause and blame the emotion on too much drink at lunch.

But as her boat disappears from view, I know I’m lying to myself.