sort of just-you-try-it-buster expression, so you owe me, Laura. I’ll put that fee on your next bill, and you’d better not query it!’
‘Sorry, Mel, but you should have waited until I came out.’
‘I have been, for ages, sitting in the square drinking a
frullato di arancia
.’ She paused, watching Laura, who sighed.
‘Okay, I’ll buy it – what’s that?’
Melanie grinned. ‘Delicious, I can tell you! A mixture of chilled milk and orange juice. You must try it – I’ve never tasted anything like it! Come on! Haven’t you seen enough of this gloomy old place?’
‘You could stay in here for days and not see enough.’
‘Not me, I couldn’t. I’m not a great one for churches.’ But Melanie stared incredulously at the magnificent Pala d’Oro. ‘Is that real gold, do you think?’
‘Absolutely, it’s made up of two hundred and fifty panels of gold foil and precious stones.’
‘You’re kidding! Are they real? Do you think those are emeralds or just green glass?’
‘Emeralds, and the red ones are real rubies.’
Melanie frowned suspiciously. ‘How do you know that? I thought you didn’t believe in reading guidebooks.’
‘I listened in on a tour group.’
‘I might have known you’d cheated.’ Melanie held up one hand and considered her plump fingers, on which several rings gleamed. ‘Imagine one of those big rubies in a ring! A heavy gold setting, of course – it would look ridiculous in anything else.’
Laura giggled. ‘Come on. We’d better go before you try and grab one!’
As they walked out Laura looked at the large wicker basket her friend was carrying. ‘What have you bought?’
‘Some ravishing red Venetian glass, made at Murano. Do you know, they were making glass in the thirteenth century?’
‘I hope they packed it well. You don’t want it getting broken
en route
. I wouldn’t fancy its chances bumping along the conveyor belts at Heathrow.’
‘I’ll carry it myself.’ Melanie looked at her watch. ‘Look, I don’t want to hang around St Mark’s Square all afternoon. I’m going to explore more shops.’
‘What else do you want to get?’
‘Some
prosciutto
, some squid-flavoured pasta – and you can get little bottles of pear and lime liqueur here that are supposed to be terrific.’
‘You could buy all of that in Harrods,’ Laura said.
Melanie gave her a furious look, her lower lip stuck out like a petulant baby’s. ‘It wouldn’t be the same. And it would cost more. Imported food always does. Anyway, I like to buy stuff in the country of origin, it makes it special. When you eat it you can remember your holiday.’
As they emerged from the basilica Laura blinked in the fierce light of the sun. The enormous square was still crowded with tourists although it was now late afternoon. She put her dark glasses back on just in case there was a reporter or cameraman around. The sun poured down relentlessly, making her head ache after the cool shadows of the basilica.
‘Coming with me?’ asked Melanie. ‘Shouldn’t you buy presents for your parents, Angela and Hamish and the brats?’
‘I can do that tomorrow morning, early, when it isn’t so hot. Right now, I’m dying to sit down. I’ll find somewhere nice and quiet in the shade. You can meet me again at that café under the arcade – it’s bound to be cool. We don’t want to sit outside in the sun, even if the tables do have umbrellas. And I think it’s more atmospheric. I love those cloudy old mirrors on the walls.’ Laura gazed across the square into Florian’s, her eyes dreamy. ‘You can’t see yourself in them, but they seem to reflect other faces from long ago, strange shapes that keep changing, eyes that watch you. D’you know what I mean?’
‘No, you’re just crazy,’ Melanie said with the impatience of the practical for dreamers. ‘Now, don’t get lost! Remember, anyone will show you the way back here, okay? And keep your eye on your watch. Five o’clock, okay?
‘Sorry, Mel, but you should have waited until I came out.’
‘I have been, for ages, sitting in the square drinking a
frullato di arancia
.’ She paused, watching Laura, who sighed.
‘Okay, I’ll buy it – what’s that?’
Melanie grinned. ‘Delicious, I can tell you! A mixture of chilled milk and orange juice. You must try it – I’ve never tasted anything like it! Come on! Haven’t you seen enough of this gloomy old place?’
‘You could stay in here for days and not see enough.’
‘Not me, I couldn’t. I’m not a great one for churches.’ But Melanie stared incredulously at the magnificent Pala d’Oro. ‘Is that real gold, do you think?’
‘Absolutely, it’s made up of two hundred and fifty panels of gold foil and precious stones.’
‘You’re kidding! Are they real? Do you think those are emeralds or just green glass?’
‘Emeralds, and the red ones are real rubies.’
Melanie frowned suspiciously. ‘How do you know that? I thought you didn’t believe in reading guidebooks.’
‘I listened in on a tour group.’
‘I might have known you’d cheated.’ Melanie held up one hand and considered her plump fingers, on which several rings gleamed. ‘Imagine one of those big rubies in a ring! A heavy gold setting, of course – it would look ridiculous in anything else.’
Laura giggled. ‘Come on. We’d better go before you try and grab one!’
As they walked out Laura looked at the large wicker basket her friend was carrying. ‘What have you bought?’
‘Some ravishing red Venetian glass, made at Murano. Do you know, they were making glass in the thirteenth century?’
‘I hope they packed it well. You don’t want it getting broken
en route
. I wouldn’t fancy its chances bumping along the conveyor belts at Heathrow.’
‘I’ll carry it myself.’ Melanie looked at her watch. ‘Look, I don’t want to hang around St Mark’s Square all afternoon. I’m going to explore more shops.’
‘What else do you want to get?’
‘Some
prosciutto
, some squid-flavoured pasta – and you can get little bottles of pear and lime liqueur here that are supposed to be terrific.’
‘You could buy all of that in Harrods,’ Laura said.
Melanie gave her a furious look, her lower lip stuck out like a petulant baby’s. ‘It wouldn’t be the same. And it would cost more. Imported food always does. Anyway, I like to buy stuff in the country of origin, it makes it special. When you eat it you can remember your holiday.’
As they emerged from the basilica Laura blinked in the fierce light of the sun. The enormous square was still crowded with tourists although it was now late afternoon. She put her dark glasses back on just in case there was a reporter or cameraman around. The sun poured down relentlessly, making her head ache after the cool shadows of the basilica.
‘Coming with me?’ asked Melanie. ‘Shouldn’t you buy presents for your parents, Angela and Hamish and the brats?’
‘I can do that tomorrow morning, early, when it isn’t so hot. Right now, I’m dying to sit down. I’ll find somewhere nice and quiet in the shade. You can meet me again at that café under the arcade – it’s bound to be cool. We don’t want to sit outside in the sun, even if the tables do have umbrellas. And I think it’s more atmospheric. I love those cloudy old mirrors on the walls.’ Laura gazed across the square into Florian’s, her eyes dreamy. ‘You can’t see yourself in them, but they seem to reflect other faces from long ago, strange shapes that keep changing, eyes that watch you. D’you know what I mean?’
‘No, you’re just crazy,’ Melanie said with the impatience of the practical for dreamers. ‘Now, don’t get lost! Remember, anyone will show you the way back here, okay? And keep your eye on your watch. Five o’clock, okay?
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