'At last,' Vincenzo said, getting to his feet.
'Mio Dio!' Piero exclaimed, looking around him.
'Yes, it could have been a disaster but for Julia. Take her downstairs, Piero, and get her warmed up.'
Julia let herself be led away to the place where there was warmth, and fresh clothes, and hot coffee. Piero laughed heartily at her story, especially the tale of how she'd criticised 'the owner'.
'It's too bad of Vincenzo not to have told you the truth,' he said. 'He is the owner. His full name is Vincenzo di Montese.'
'What? You mean he's the count? But I thought he was one of us?' she cried, almost indignant.
'So he is. What do you think makes us as we are? Is it simply not having a roof over our heads, or is there more?'
'There's much more,' she said, thinking of the last few years when she'd had a roof over her head, and still been poorer than she was now.
'Exactly. Vincenzo has his ghosts and demons, just like us. In his case it's virtually everyone or everything he's ever loved. They betray him, they die, or they're taken from him in some other way. As a boy he worshipped his father. He hadn't seen the truth about him then.'
'What truth?'
'Sheer brute selfishness. He was a gambler who cared about nothing and nobody as long as he got his thrill at the tables, no matter how huge his losses. People say he went to pieces after his wife died, and it's true he got worse then. But it was always there.
'The old count stripped this place of its valuables, so that now all Vincenzo owns is the shell. He lost the woman he loved. They were engaged, but the marriage fell through because her family said they didn't want to see her dowry gambled away, and who can blame them?'
'Didn't they put up a fight if they loved each other?'
'Vincenzo couldn't put up a fight. He felt that he had so little to offer that it wouldn't be fair. He's a Montese, which means he has the pride of the devil.'
'But didn't she fight?'
Piero shrugged. 'Not really. She may have loved him in her own way, but it wasn't a through-thick-and-thin kind of way.'
'What about him?' Julia wanted to know. 'Did he love her in a through-thick-and-thin kind of way?'
'Oh, yes. He's an all-or-nothing person. When he gives it's everything. I remember their engagement party, in this very building. Gina was incredibly beautiful and knew how to show herself off. So she climbed those stairs and posed there for everyone to admire. And he stood below, looking up at her, almost worshipping. You never saw a man so radiantly happy.
'But that same night his father left the party and went to the casino. The amount of money he lost in an hour triggered the avalanche that followed, although I suppose it would have happened anyway.
'The count took his own life soon after. Having created the mess, he dumped it all on Vincenzo and made his escape. The final selfish betrayal.'
'Dear God!' she said, shocked. 'You must have known Vincenzo well if you were at the party?'
'I was there in my capacity as Europe's greatest chef.'
'Again?' she warned. 'You're repeating yourself.'
'Ah, yes, I've been a chef before, haven't I? Well, whatever. If you could have seen the look on Vincenzo's face that night-the last time he was ever happy. He loved that woman as few women are ever loved. And when she turned from him something in him died. That part of his life is over.'
'You mean he's given up women?' Julia asked with a touch of disbelief.
'Oh, no, quite the reverse. Far too many, all meaningless. He attracts them more easily than is good for him, and forgets them the same way.'
'Maybe he's the wise one,' Julia murmured.
'That's what he says, but it's sad to see a man bury the best of himself beneath bitterness. And it's got worse these last few months since he lost his sister, Bianca, the one person left that he could talk to. They were twins and they'd always been very close.
'She and her husband died in a car crash, only a few months ago, leaving him with her two children to care for. They're all the family he has left now. Everyone and everything gets taken away from him, and now he seems to feel more at home with down-and-outs.'
They heard Vincenzo and the plumber coming down the stairs, the plumber leaving, and Vincenzo approaching. Julia was standing by the window and he went straight to her, arms wide and eager. Then she was swallowed up in a huge hug.
'Thank you, thank you!' he said fiercely. 'You'll never know what you've done for me.'
'Piero's just told me who you are,' she said, struggling to breathe. 'You've got a nerve, keeping a thing like that to yourself.'
'I'm sorry,' he said unconvincingly. 'I just couldn't resist. Besides, think how much good you did me with that frank assessment of my character. Thank you for everything, Julia-or whoever.'
It was the first time he'd openly hinted that he doubted her name, and he backed off at once, saying hastily, 'I'm taking you both to supper tonight. Be ready in an hour.'
He vanished. Julia stood there, wondering at a tinge of embarrassment that had appeared in his manner.
Her clothes were all six years old, but she was thinner now and could get into them easily. She found a blue dress that was simple enough to look elegant.
She had almost nothing in the way of make-up, a touch of pink on her lips, and no more. But it had a transforming effect.
'That's better,' Piero said when he saw her. 'Let him see how nice you can look.'
'For heaven's sake, Piero!' she said, suddenly self-conscious. 'I'm not going on a date. What about you? Are you dressing up in your Sunday best?'
Top hat and tails,' he said at once. 'What else?'
But when Vincenzo, smartly dressed in a suit, called for them Piero was still in his coat tied up with string.
'Are we going to your own restaurant?' he asked.
'We are.'
'Are you sure you should be taking me there, dressed like this?'
'Quite sure,' Vincenzo said, with the warmest smile she had ever seen from him. 'Now let's go.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Vincenzo's restaurant was called Il Pappagallo, the par-rot, and stood down a street so narrow that Julia could have touched both sides at once. The lights beamed out onto the wet stones, and through the windows she could see an inviting scene.
It was a small place with perhaps a dozen tables, lit by coloured lamps. A glance at the diners showed Julia why Piero had been reluctant to come here among those well-dressed people. But Vincenzo had overruled him for friendship's sake, and she liked him for it.
He led them inside and right through the restaurant to the rear door, which he opened, revealing more tables outside.
'Normally we couldn't eat outside at this time of year,' he said, 'but it's a mild night, and I think you'll enjoy the view of the Grand Canal.'
She had partly seen it before through the palazzo windows, but now she saw the whole wide expanse, busy with traffic. Behind the vaporetti and the gondolas rose the Rialto Bridge, floodlit blue against the night sky.
'Let me take your order,' Vincenzo said. 'I think we'll start with champagne because this is a celebration.'
She'd forgotten what champagne tasted like. She'd forgotten what a celebration was.
'We serve the finest food in Venice,' Vincenzo declared, and a glance at the menu proved it.
She returned it to him. 'Order for me, please.'
The champagne arrived and Vincenzo poured for them all in tall, fluted glasses.
'Thank you,' he said, raising his glass to her. 'Thank you-Julia?'
'Julia,' she said, meeting his eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of confirming or denying her name.
Piero was looking gleefully from one to the other. She guessed he was imagining a possible romance. She shrugged the thought away, but she supposed his mistake was understandable. Many women would find Vincenzo irresistible. It wasn't a matter of looks, because strictly speaking he wasn't handsome. His nose was a little too long and irregular for that.