Page 24

The heat of the day has begun to ease. Church bells announce the Angelus.

Although I’m not religious, there is something about the momentary reminder to pause, reflect and pray that I love.

Below, the sounds of Venice soften and a light breeze picks up the scent of the roses growing around the edge of the terrace.

Bees move from one lavender head to another with no urgency.

The angle of the sun’s rays has dipped, but there are still hours until sunset.

The view is intoxicating, with bell towers, church domes and grand palazzos.

Katherine pours the contents of the mixer into two glasses.

She hands me one. ‘Now, tell me all that you have been up to since I last saw you.’ She pauses and reads the surprise on my face.

She asked the same question a few hours ago.

‘You have clearly been hiding away, because I haven’t spied you anywhere, and I have been everywhere. ’

The memory of her looking straight at me the other day comes immediately to mind, but I choose not to mention it. ‘I’ve been working in places you wouldn’t go.’

She tilts her head in that way of hers and studies me for a moment. ‘You do like the underside of things, or should I say you are drawn to them.’ She raises her glass and her eyes dance with mischief. ‘To our new adventure as artist and muse.’

Her words land a little too close to home and I try to swallow my concerns.

In a way, she has indeed become my muse.

She is always on my mind and now she stands in front of me dressed to join Forster later.

The white satin gown slips down her frame.

She is thinner than she was just weeks ago.

The hollows under her collarbone are more pronounced.

I long to trace them with my fingers, but I will sketch them later while she is out.

‘What have you been up to?’ I ask. We are standing side by side looking out on the Grand Canal.

‘This and that. It’s been a social whirl. The first week, without Simon, was a delight. Mary is fun and naughty, and it was lovely, to be honest.’ She turns to me. ‘You would have loved it. Girls together.’ She sips her drink. ‘But Simon leaves tomorrow and we shall be girls alone again.’

My mouth dries and the martini doesn’t help.

‘You’ve become quite thin.’ She runs a hand down my arm. ‘Does the food not suit?’

‘I’ve been watching the pennies so that I can remain here longer.’

‘I miss your curves.’ She looks me up and down. ‘It’s a good thing you are here and not paying rent. We will feed you and I will make certain that Simon pays more than a fair price.’

‘I’m not destitute.’

‘I know, but I can help with some things.’

I begin to speak, but Simon appears. ‘There you are.’ He walks at us full throttle and I wonder if he’ll slow down or go straight over the side, but he comes to an abrupt halt. ‘I’ve written a poem that you must take a look at immediately.’

‘But I’m just catching up with Sheba.’ Katherine places a hand on my arm.

He glances at me as if he hasn’t seen me before. Back to normal invisibility now that I have acquiesced to his plan.

‘This is important. I want to have it ready for Il Duce tomorrow.’

Katherine suppresses a sigh and takes the paper he hands her. She smiles apologetically and disappears downstairs.

‘You’ll have plenty of time to catch up while I’m away, when you are painting my wife.’ He pours the remaining cocktail into a glass.

‘We will.’ I look down, trying to appear grateful but not feeling that way at all.

‘The German chancellor will be visiting Venice soon.’ His face is flushed with excitement. ‘I expect great things from Herr Hitler. Il Duce thinks he will be a true fascist ally.’

How do I reply to this? I have watched the Blackshirts around Venice and I’m no more impressed with them here than I was back home. However, this man is Katherine’s husband, so I need to be polite.

‘This whole movement is so exciting,’ he continues, not needing anything more than an audience. ‘It is the way forward, away from the socialists. They do nothing but hamper progress.’

I finish my drink. He presses a bell, and one of the men who sorted my things earlier appears and mixes more cocktails. I don’t want another, but if he is going to talk of politics, I need to be intoxicated. In the distance, a church bell chimes.

‘If you’ll excuse me for a moment,’ I say.

‘Of course.’

Swiftly I go down the stairs towards the lavatory.

I pass an open door where Katherine sits head down as I saw her on the train.

From this angle her absorption in her task is evident.

She has crossed through every line and rewritten it.

She pauses and looks towards the window, mouthing the words, changing them again.

Nothing of Forster’s work remains. The truth hits me. She is not an editor but the poet.

I sway, reaching for the wall for balance. I’m furious at the way he dismisses her. The woman who has written the words that he is accepting the praise for. I don’t know where to put myself or the anger I’m feeling.

Quietly I move on, but Katherine looks up. We both freeze. Her glance meets mine. Something has changed.

‘You are the poet, not him,’ I blurt out as if she was unaware of it.

She narrows her glance but doesn’t say a word.

‘You are an artist with words.’

‘No.’ She shakes her head. ‘I dabble and think too deeply.’

‘He uses you.’ I exhale, angrier than I have been since my stepmother told me to leave.

‘I cannot give Simon the child he desires, so I provide an editing service instead.’

‘I see what you do. It isn’t editing. The only thing that remains is the title.’ I step closer and point to the rewritten poem.

She grimaced. ‘That was one I suggested.’

‘How do you bear it?’ I couldn’t. I wouldn’t live under anyone’s thumb, providing my work for their glory. It is wrong.

‘Lie back and think of England, dear.’ She laughs and picks up the paper, leaving me standing speechless.

In the lavatory, I cool my face with water.

Slowly my anger fades. Only when I’m back in control of my emotions do I return upstairs.

But Signor Rossi is now with Forster. More cocktails are being poured and the housekeeper brings us some appetisers.

The Venetians never serve only a drink. It always comes with a small sandwich, a piece of cheese or spicy meat.

I enjoy the balance of the alcohol with the food.

‘Signorina Kernow, will you be joining us this evening?’ Rossi asks.

I shake my head. ‘I need my beauty sleep.’

‘You are very beautiful indeed, in such an English way, with your glorious red hair. Very Titian.’

I hide my smile behind my hand. My hair is all that is Titian about me. Serafino Rossi is a kind man, even if I don’t like his politics. He is difficult to read yet he reminds me of a friend of my father’s who would agree with whatever you were saying as long as it was expedient for him.

‘Are you all set to paint the beautiful Katherine?’ he asks.

‘I need to properly set up my work space and also see where it will be best to paint the portrait.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ Forster says, picking up a rolled piece of meat. ‘I think the view from our bedroom is just right. You can see the Grand Canal and the garden. It will set off her beauty.’

I nod, but from what he is saying, Katherine would be backlit, which would make the task difficult. If I could paint her up here in the golden evening light, it might work.

‘I will have Katherine show you tomorrow.’ He turns to Rossi. ‘I’m just going to check on her.’

Rossi steps closer to me. ‘Have you been to the Biennale yet?’

‘Not yet, but I have a ticket for the fifteenth.’

‘I think you will find much to admire and stimulate you.’ He waves his hands about as he talks.

‘Venice itself fills me with inspiration. Viewing other artists’ work is energising and at times daunting.’ I pick up a small piece of cheese.

‘In what way?’

‘Well, I love seeing how another artist has interpreted something, be it what they see, feel or hear.’ I sigh. ‘But sometimes I’m overawed by their genius.’

He laughs. ‘I see, indeed I do. You think they have not stood where you are and were always so brilliant?’

‘Exactly that.’

‘I tell you, Signorina Kernow, it is by striving that we make the great. It is only by pushing ourselves that we attain the higher . . . the higher reaches.’

I can’t deny this.

‘The painting of this morning was most excellent, but I think it was not the painting of your heart.’

‘True.’ Technically it is strong, but there is no insight. That requires taking time and risks. The latter is the difficult part. I’ve always chosen the safer option.

‘To be good . . . special, it needs to reach further.’ He places his glass down and opens his hands outward.

‘It does.’

He looks me directly in the eyes. ‘Just remember that as you reach further, you will leave many behind you.’

I frown.

‘I mean not only other artists with your skill, but also viewers, those who enjoy the art but do not create.’ He waves his hand in the air. ‘The more different and unique your vision, your work becomes . . . the smaller the audience will be that will appreciate it.’

I take a sip of my drink, letting his words sink in.

‘This morning’s work could be sold a thousand times to people as different as they come.’ He points to the canal below us. ‘The beauty is visible, obvious, but say you paint something like your fellow countryman, Nicholson, then there will be fewer people who will see its value.’

I nod.

‘We all have decisions we need to make along our journeys. Do we please the many, or do we travel our own route and possibly please only ourselves?’ He picks up his glass.

‘I wonder what you will do, Signorina Kernow. You have the skill to be the artist you wish to be, but only time will tell what road you will take.’ He nods.

‘I for one will watch your journey with interest.’

‘I’ve found Katherine,’ Forster calls from the other side of the terrace. ‘And it’s time for us to set off.’ Together Rossi and I walk towards him.

Katherine stands by the door. Her expression speaks of sadness laced with tolerance.

‘And bless her, she’s located the poem I was telling you about.

I’m so pleased to be bringing it with us to Milan tomorrow.

’ He ushers Rossi off the terrace, not even acknowledging my presence.

Part of me is grateful and another part is angry.

I’m a human being who should be given some respect.

But to him, and men like him, I am no more than someone who provides a service.

With that thought, I top up my cocktail and watch the setting sun. I’m not here for ever and I need to make the most of the time. That includes painting, studying and learning. I will paint Katherine for him so that it will please him. And then I will paint her for myself.