One of them gasped when he saw the room. 'What a way to have to live!' he said. 'The sooner we get him to hospital, the better.'
Julia spoke in a muffled voice. 'You're too late.' They drew near to where the two figures clasped each other. Piero's eyes were closed and his rasping breathing had stopped. He lay quiet and peaceful.
'Poor old fellow,' said one of the young men sympathetically.
Julia laid her cheek tenderly against Piero's white hair. 'Don't feel sorry for him,' she said softly. 'He died as he wanted to, in his daughter's arms.'
The two young men took over, laying Piero gently on trolley. Julia planted a last kiss on his forehead before he was wheeled away, down into the garden and into the ambulance boat tied up in the water.
Together they stood at the window as the ambulance pulled away down the Grand Canal, until its lights were no longer visible. When it had gone Vincenzo opened his arms and she went into them.
'I'm going to miss him so much,' she said.
'So am I. But you were right. He was happy at the end and that's what matters.' He took her face in his hand and looked down at her.
'You were wonderful,' he said tenderly. He brushed the hair back from her face, then drew her against him, with her head on his shoulder, and they stood like that in silence for a long time.
'I'm taking you away with me,' he said at last. 'You can't live here alone.'
'All right, I'll move. But not now.' She turned back into the room, suddenly so lonely. 'I want to spend one more night here.'
Piero's few pathetic possessions were still there, including the gifts she'd given him. She sat down on the bed, lifting his gloves, looking at them, stroking them.
'Who was he really?' she asked.
'Professor Alessandro Calfani, a philosopher. Once I thought I knew him well, but now I think I never knew him in any way that mattered. Did you understand what he meant about Elena forgiving him?'
'He told me she used to call him Babbo, but stopped after some kind of estrangement. It sounded as though they had a big row. I guess when he wanted to say sorry, it was too late.'
'But it was all right for him in the end.' Vincenzo sat down beside her, and slipped his arm around her shoulders.
Suddenly the sight of Piero's things hurt her unbearably, and she buried her face in her hands. She struggled to fight the tears, but it was useless, and at last she cried without trying to stop.
'I loved him so much,' she wept against Vincenzo's shoulder.
'So did I,' he said sombrely, holding her tightly as much for his sake as hers.
'Stay with me here tonight,' she said. 'I want to remember him with you.'
He drew her down onto the bed that was only just big enough for the two them, and drew blankets over them.
She was still weeping and he made no effort to stop her. Sometimes he kissed her tumbled hair. Once he drew it back and stroked her face with tender fingers before kissing her gently on the mouth. She looked at him quickly.
'It's all right,' he whispered. 'Go to sleep. I'm here.'
She closed her eyes and he felt her relax. At last her breathing told him that she was asleep. He rested his head against her and had begun to drift off when she stirred and began to mutter.
'Julia,' he whispered, but then, 'Sophie.'
She gave a gasp that was almost a cry, and awoke.
'What is it?' he asked.
'It's a dream-it keeps coming back-'
'What happens in your dream?'
'It's about Annina.'
'You identified with her,didn't you? I can see why now. You loved your husband, and he shut you away for years-'
'And I died,' she said slowly. 'I died.'
'That's what you said, standing before her picture.'
She looked at him quickly.
'But how could you know that? It was only in my dream.'
'You were sleepwalking. You really went up there, and I came with you, just to see that you were all right.'
She searched his face. 'Yes, you did, didn't you?' she said. 'And you said you were my friend.'
'Do you remember anything else?' he asked anxiously.
'Yes.' She gave a faint smile. 'You kissed me.'
'That was the first time I ever kissed you, and you didn't know, not then or next day. I kept hoping you'd remember, but you looked through me.'
'Why didn't you tell me?'
'I couldn't. You needed to remember for yourself.' He grinned. 'I made good resolutions about waiting until the moment came.'
'You didn't keep them very long.'
'True. I'm not a patient man.'
'I'm glad of that.' She reached up and put her arms about his neck. 'I'm so glad of that.'
When he was sure he'd understood her properly he tightened his own arms about her.
'My love,' he said, 'let us drive the ghosts away. They have no place here now.'
'No,' she whispered, drawing him close. 'Not now.'
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day Julia left the palazzo for good, and moved into the little apartment over the restaurant. It consisted of one main room, and bedroom, with a tiny bathroom and even tinier kitchen.
New Year was almost on them, and she plunged into work, available at all hours, taking on any jobs, to keep her mind occupied.
'Don't overdo it,' Vincenzo advised one evening as she was just coming on for the late shift. 'You were here early, you helped with cleaning up all afternoon, and now you're starting work again.'
'I prefer to keep busy. The Montressis will be back soon. When New Year's over I'll try Murano again.'
'On your own?'
'Yes, but don't worry about me. If they're not there I won't fling myself melodramatically into the lagoon. I'll just keep trying until they are. I'll go as soon as Piero's funeral is over.'
It was Vincenzo who had paid for the funeral, arranging for Piero to lie beside Elena on the island of San Michele.
When the day came they both boarded the black motor boat that would take them across the lagoon. They made the journey standing up behind the black-draped coffin. Inside, Piero lay wearing the gloves, scarf and boots she had given him.
Soon the island came in sight, the outer rim of cypresses encased by a terracotta wall, and a few minutes later they reached the landing stage. Pallbearers appeared and carried the coffin onto dry land.
At the inner gate they were met by an official who checked the details with Vincenzo.
They were the only mourners. During the service she kept her eyes fixed on the coffin, topped by flowers from herself and Vincenzo. She had known Piero only a few weeks, yet she felt she had lost a very dear friend.
It was time to take the coffin to its final resting place. As they moved out of the chapel she could see that some of the cemetery was conventional, with burials in the ground, and headstones.
But this place had been created for economy of space, and most coffins were placed in narrow vaults, piled on top of one another, as many as ten high. At the outer end was a marble plaque giving the details of who lay there, with a picture. As there was also a holder for flowers a whole wall of these plaques was an impressive sight. Where two flowered walls faced each other the effect was of an enchanted bower.
Elena was on the fourth tier, her picture easily visible. She bore a marked resemblance to her father, having his sharp features and brilliant smile.
Slowly Piero's coffin was slid into the space beside her, and the end fitted into place.
'Goodbye,' she whispered. 'And thank you for everything.'
'I'd like to put some fresh flowers in my sister's urn,' Vincenzo said.
They walked along the long walls of flowers until Vincenzo stopped, pointing up at something above his head.
'That's Bianca,' he said. 'And the one beside her is her husband.'
Julia tilted her head back, but was unable to see the pictures clearly.
'How do you get up so high to change the flowers?' she wanted to know.