Page 68 of The Venice Murders

‘But why?’ Alice sounded bewildered.

‘Bianca has lost her father. He died quite suddenly, a heart attack, and Sally didn’t like to abandon her.’

‘Not why did she stay, but why didn’t she tell me? Doesn’t she realise? I’ve been sick with worry.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised for the absent Sally. ‘It was all such a rush. Bianca was dreadfully upset and Sally was trying to comfort her and, at the same time, change her ticket for a later train. We’re going to see the girl today – we promised Sally – and ask if there’s anything we can do. There’s just been too much going on, I’m afraid.’

‘Too much goin’ on!’ Alice gave an irritated huff. ‘Just wait till I see that young lady. Worryin’ me like that – not a wink of sleep last night! She’ll be gettin’ a piece of my mind, that’s for sure!’ For a moment, she fell silent and, when she spoke again, she sounded cautious.

‘Everythin’isall right there?’

‘Everything,’ Flora lied. ‘But the Priory?’ Adeptly, she turned the conversation. ‘Sally mentioned you’ve had some trouble.’

‘More’n I can say, my love. It’s been a right picnic here and I can’t wait for Sal to get back and sort it out.’

Flora waited to hear more.

‘Two of the maids fightin’ over some man. I ask you!’ she said, disgustedly. ‘And now Charlie goin’ off the boil just as Hector’s gettin’ back on his feet.’

‘Going off the boil?’ That didn’t sound like Charlie. ‘How, exactly?’

‘Gettin’ careless is what I mean. Not listenin’ to instructions, gettin’ a bit cheeky, too. Sal won’t have it, I warned him. He’ll be out on his ear unless he pulls himself together.’

‘What’s going on, Alice? Charlie has always been a lively lad, but never rude.’

‘It’s Brighton,’ she said, as though that explained everything. ‘Now he’s got some money in his pocket – Sal gave him a rise when he started working under Hector – he’s off to Brighton every spare hour he has, and you know what that place is like! I met Mrs Teague t’other day at Houseman’s and she’s worried. Says her lad is spendin’ money right, left and centre, goin’ to them coffee bars, playin’ jukeboxes. No doubt mixin’ with all the wrong’uns. And he’s no dad, has he, to set him right. It’s all down to his poor mother.’

To Flora, it sounded a very mild rebellion, but Alice was plainly upset and every small problem had assumed large proportions. ‘He’ll get bored with going to Brighton,’ she said knowledgeably, though she had no real idea if Charlie would. Going to coffee bars and playing jukeboxes hadn’t featured heavily in her own young life. It had been drinks in the student bar and then a rapid transition into managing the bookshop and caring for a very sick aunt. ‘Try not to worry, Alice. Sally is sure to be with you today and you know what a capable girl she is. In no time she’ll have sorted out Charlieandthe maids. And we’ll be back in Abbeymead ourselves very soon.’

She felt a touch on her shoulder. ‘Breakfast,’ Jack said quietly, having overheard much of the conversation.

‘I best go now,’ she said, ‘but Jack sends his love. Me, too. And we’ll be sure to see you the day after tomorrow.’

Replacing the receiver, she smiled. ‘A storm in a teacup, I’d say.’

‘So I gathered from what I heard, though Charlie might need a little advice.’

‘When we get back, he’s all yours. But at least that’s Alice soothed, for the time being. Now all we have to face is a day at the Lido.’

‘It could be worse,’ he said, sounding philosophical.

26

Despite his earlier reluctance to spring into life, Jack managed to consume a substantial breakfast, and it was a good hour later that they joined a small queue that had formed for the Cipriani launch. The boat would ferry them across the Giudecca Canal to St Mark’s Square where they could catch avaporettodirect to the Lido, the island invisible from the quayside this morning.

Thevaporetto, when it arrived, was already crowded and the absence of seats had them standing at the rail watching the small craft plough its way from stop to stop: San Zaccaria, Arsenale, Giardini, and finally across the long stretch of water to their destination.

Flora was enjoying the journey. A stiff breeze had begun to blow, teasing her hair and making her cheeks tingle, as the small vessel barrelled a path through what had become churning water. Gradually, the sun began to emerge from its earlier haze, the familiar warmth bathing arms and legs that had stayed bare.

Jack had to raise his voice to be heard over the sounds of water and wind. ‘The Lido looks a fair distance.’ It was a pinprick on the horizon, Flora saw. ‘But in reality, it’s not that far.’

‘I don’t mind how far. The views are amazing.’

Interest lay in whichever direction Flora looked. Silent islands were scattered all about them, the shallows littered with shambling palisades; she could just make out small figures hard at work on the nearest sandbank, knee-deep in sludge and prodding in the mud for shellfish.

‘I hope you like the Lido as much as the journey,’ Jack said in her ear.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

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