Miss Garnet's Angel by Salley Vickers Page B

said, ‘and very holy. Much miracles there once. Now, no more.’ She shrugged. ‘It is the TV, I think.’
    *    *    *
    Nicco was not making much progress with his English. Carlo, who had called to tell her he had been as good as hisord, and been by the chapel and spoken with the twins, narrowly missed one of the English lessons.
    â€˜Do excuse me.’ Julia Garnet hastily cleared away a pile of books. One of them,
The Tale of Jemima Puddle-duck,
made her feel embarrassed: it betrayed the fact that she had bothered to bring it with her from England. She had not quite got over her tendency to become unnerved by Carlo’s presence and the children’s book added to the feeling of immaturity. ‘It’s the boy I give lessons to.’ She shoved
Jemina
Puddle-duck
under a copy of
Hello
magazine donated by the Signora.
    Carlo’s manners were exemplary. If he had spotted the story about the credulous duck and the predatory fox, which Julia had preserved since childhood, he gave no sign. He seemed to want to ask questions about Nicco but she was more interested in hearing what he had to say about the restoration.
    â€˜So, I have met your friends.’
    But this she felt she must correct. ‘Hardly friends!’
    â€˜It is fascinating,’ ignoring her protests. ‘As always the problem is the salt. Venice has its feet for ever in water, you see, and they must refashion the floor. The boy is doing this, on his knees, while the girl is perched above him, working as stone mason. Modern youth, eh? They were most charming, I should say. They allowed me to look.’
    â€˜Did they show you Himself?’ Julia felt slightly jealous. It had felt free up on the scaffolding.
    â€˜Himself?’ Carlo looked puzzled.
    â€˜The Archangel. Raphael.’ More than the humans she had met at the chapel, the angel seemed her friend.
    â€˜Oh indeed. This is where the restoration must be most delicate. The girl is trained by a most marvellous man from your V & A who came over in
’66
after the great floods. I know him a little. There is nothing to match you English with the chisel.’
    â€˜Such a beatific smile.’ Julia was thinking of the angel.
    â€˜Indeed. She is most charming, your young friend,’ said Carlo, politely misunderstanding.
    *    *    *
    Julia Garnet, calling to collect a parcel of linen, met Sarah outside the launderers. Sarah was not wearing her goggles or her woolly hat—but she still wore the blue overalls.
    â€˜Hi! Isn’t it absolutely glorious?’
    And indeed the day had turned into a painting of apricot and blue. Brilliant pillars of light were almost tangibly striking the enclosed corner where they stood.
    â€˜Glorious.’ Julia Garnet agreed, weighing the brown parcel. (She wanted to offer some reciprocal hospitality and was simultaneously weighing in her mind how to accomplish this.) ‘I don’t suppose you would like a cup of tea?’
    â€˜That’s sweet of you. I get dry with the stone dust and if you breathe near a café here it costs an arm and a leg.’
    â€˜Don’t you take a flask?’
    â€˜Too lazy!’
    The girl had a seductive giggle. Julia, as the two of them made their way towards Signora Mignelli’s, speculated thatwith a laugh like that one might get away with murder. So it turned out to be quite easy, she reflected further, Sarah chattering away at her side: you asked someone to tea and they answered; as simple as that. She thought of the years through which she had asked no one (except occasionally Harriet—whom, she now saw, she had tended too much to consider in the light of ‘only’ Harriet) anything at all. Fearful of rejection she had presented to the world a face of independence which was a sham. Had she been capable of formulating the words to herself during those dull years she would probably have opined that she