The Venetian Game: a haunting thriller set in the heart of Italy's most secretive city by Jones Philip Gwynne

Author:Jones, Philip Gwynne [Jones, Philip Gwynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2017-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Few things are as comforting as a dry pair of socks on a wet day. I lay on the sofa, my wet clothes steaming on the radiator, and listened to Glenn Gould. Gramsci perched on the back of the sofa, in the hope that he could leap on me in the event of my falling asleep.

Rain pattered against the shutters, and then the sound came. The great, tired wail of the acqua alta alarm. Then the first pling . Another, a tone higher. Then a third. And finally a fourth. Tonight was going to be the highest level. A hundred and forty or more centimetres above average, meaning over half the city would be affected. Poor Eduardo would need to be putting chairs on tables, and would be mopping up the water tomorrow morning. Yet, like the sound of the rain, there was something comforting about the sound of the acqua alta alarm when there was no need to go out. I looked at my watch. Six thirty now. That meant nothing would start to happen until eight thirty. I’d go and pick up a bottle of wine and a pizza and be back long before then. And then, perhaps, I’d have an early night. Just time for a snooze over the paper first.

The telephone rang.

‘Ciao, tesoro. ’

‘Ciao, Federica. Come stai?’

‘Not bad. Tired. I’ve spent a long day on top of scaffolding. Listen, are you doing anything tonight?’

‘Well, Kate Moss is coming round in half an hour …’

‘Ah, that’s a shame. I need a – what do you say – a “plus one”.’

‘Right. Right. Well, I could put her off.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, it’s okay. To be honest she’s slightly hard work. She’s insisting we collaborate on a new translation of the Inferno , and my heart’s not really in it.’

‘Well I’m a lucky woman then. So let’s meet at Maturi’s apartment at eight. It’s in San Giacomo dell’Orio.’

‘Maturi? ’

‘Yes, we have dinner once a month. I worry about him being alone. He worries about me being alone. Anyway, we spoke earlier and he said he found you quite interesting. So I thought, what better than getting another lonely person along and we can all worry about each other?’

‘Yes, that’s a genuinely brilliant idea. I have to say I found him just a little bit scary.’

‘Oh, he can seem like that at first. He’s a sweetheart really.’

‘Mm. Should I be jealous?’

‘He’s over seventy.’

‘That needn’t matter. My wife had a thing about Anthony Burgess and he’s been dead for twenty years.’

There was a brief pause. ‘Do you think perhaps you’ve got quite low self-esteem, Nathan?’

‘Possibly so. Anyway, do you know how many drinks I had to buy off Eduardo until he forgave me?’

‘More than you should, I’m sure. Now, it’s acqua alta tonight so be sure to bring your boots. Bring something to drink as well. Nothing that comes in a Tetra-Pak, and definitely not a water bottle with some vino sfuso in it. Bring something nice. Something with a proper cork in it at least.

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