Stephanie skipped alongside him as he walked, gaily oblivious to her dripping figure and tousled hair. Carol slid silently at the side trying to make herself look as small as she felt after her rather irresponsible performance just now. Damp and tanned, her hair trailing in wet strands on her shoulders and scuffing along in single toe-strap mules, she had a feeling that in the role of level-headed chaperone she had gone down another rung in Gray Barrett's estimation.
'I've been going through the list of excursions,' he said in his clipped tones as they approached the hotel. 'Venice, I think, would be a suitable outing to start with. I've booked three tickets for the day trip tomorrow.'
'Oh, Gray!' Stephanie's face went pale with disappointment as she looked up at him. She edged as close to him as she dared in her wet state and hinted, 'Couldn't we just laze round the hotel, while you're here?'
'I came over to give you a change of scene,' he said crisply. 'Venice is full of historical interest. It would be foolish not to take advantage of these guided tours while you're in Italy.'
'Yes, Gray,' Stephanie nodded meekly as they padded into the foyer. Towels wrapped around them, they scuffed away towards the lift after his order that they were to be down on the stroke of eight for dinner.
As she bathed and changed upstairs Carol nursed a bubbling excitement at the thought of Venice tomorrow. Though she knew Stephanie was blas£ about travel, having done plenty of it in her young lifetime, for herself she couldn't wait to get a closer look at the romantic city across the water.
At a minute to eight they went out to the lift. In the process of dressing Carol had been at pains to present a picture of poise and maturity. She wore a severe brown dress with cream lace collar and cuffs, little knowing that it only enhanced her girlish grace. Stephanie, secure in the knowledge that she would be dining with her uncle, looked vivacious and radiant in coffee- coloured nylon.
Gray Barrett was striding around the foyer impatiently. There was no table on the terrace tonight for the girls. He led the way automatically to the indoor restaurant populated by the elderly gentlemen of the hotel and their ladies in their camphor-scented gowns. The younger set, and the more adventurous, preferred - to dine out under the stars.
They were shown to their usual table and Gray Barrett ordered for the three of them. The waiter was different from the one the girls were used to smiling and chatting to on the terrace. He went away after seeing them settled and returned a few minutes later. Carol knew an icy horror when she saw what he was carrying in his hand.
Any extra luxury requested on the tables was labelled with the client's room number in case it was intended to be consumed at more than one meal. Carol remembered now that they had been halfway through a bottle of Chianti at dinner last night. She had long since succumbed to the idea of Stephanie filling her glass with the sparkling liquid too. Well, what harm was there in taking a little wine with a meal? Unfortunately both girls had forgotten that what they had left on the table last night would be brought out again to them this evening, and before Carol's very eyes the waiter swept in, obligingly uncorked the bottle of Chianti and proceeded to fill the girls' glasses.
Carol shrank in her seat. Stephanie, perhaps even more aware of her uncle's stiffening jaw, admitted with tilted chin and an over-bright gaze, 'I ordered it, Gray.'
'I'm not aware that a fifteen-year-old is in a position to order wine or anything else.' Gray Barrett fixed his eagle eye on Carol. As she sank beneath a blaze of colour, only too conscious of her incompetence, he clipped, 'Bring some mineral water, Pietro.'
'Si, signore' The waiter, happily unaware of the fluster he had caused, sailed away and returned with a bottle of sparkling San Pellegrino. Gray Barrett ordered a Volpolicella wine for himself and thankfully the meal was got through without further incident.
For coffee Stephanie led the way optimistically across the foyer and into the lounge She chose one of the bamboo screened-off sections and plumped down, full of chatter about the past fortnight and the things they had done to pass the time.
In his armchair Gray Barrett pulled on his cigarette and drank his coffee and gave the appearance of listening, but it wasn't difficult to see that his mind was on other things. Across from him, Carol sat in her armchair and gazed down at her coffee as she sipped it.
They retired early, Gray Barrett rising and pointing out in his taciturn way that it would be as well for them to get plenty of sleep in readiness for the excursion the following morning.
At ten o'clock in bright sunshine they went to join the rest of the crowd from the Albany and other nearby hotels who had booked for the day trip to Venice. Stephanie, having resigned herself to the tour, was looking pertly attractive in a royal blue sun dress which showed to perfection her honey-gold arms and complexion. Carol, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation, had chosen an apple-green sun dress, decorated with white piping. Gray Barrett wore one of his inevitable dark business suits, although Carol noticed that once out on the forecourt of the hotel where the sun was at its hottest he frowningly removed his jacket and folded it over his arm.
As they stood lined up ready to take the coach to the landing stage Carol found herself completely fascinated by the little man who was to be their guide for the day. His name was Aniello and he was no more than five foot two and balding, but his smile was big, his back and shoulders were straight and he moved with the pride and flair of a dashing cavalry officer.
Radiating a dynamic personality, he told everyone in his quaintly expressed English to stick together and to keep their eye on him at all times throughout the tour. Then with his jolly air he led the way on to the coach.
In with the rest of the holidaymakers, Gray Barrett ushered the girls on in front of him. It was but a few minutes' ride to the landing stage. Here he shepherded _ them ahead of him on to the launch, saw that they had a seat, then engrossed himself in the guidebook that he was carrying.
As they started off Carol didn't know how he could bear to just stand and stare at the printed word when there was all this fabulous scenery to be noted. She reminded herself that he had done this trip twice already and was probably familiar with the island of San Giorgio and the church and campanile, which Aniello was pointing out in his rich tones for everyone's benefit.
Carol was still gazing back in wide-eyed awe at the magnificent domes and pillared construction when the launch bumped to a halt at the Venice landing stage. Everyone crowded on to the wide promenade where tall stately buildings rubbed shoulders with shabby pastel- tinted exteriors. This was the Riva degli Schiavoni, Aniello told his group, as he herded them into a cluster with his outstretched arm and hand holding his sheaf of notes, then led the way two yards in front like a drum- major at the head of a parade.
As the knot of people followed obediently they were told to look right when they crossed the first canal bridge to see the Bridge of Sighs. Carol couldn't wait to get there. She almost fell up the steps over the canal, so intent on craning her neck to gaze along the stretch of water flanked on either side by sombre buildings. Well, It didn't seem all that special! Just a stone arch spanning the water, with fancy brickwork and a couple of tiny grille-faced windows looking out over the canal. But Aniello made it live when he described how the prisoners crossing over from the Doge's Palace to the prison building would sigh as they looked out on the city of Venice for the last time.
Carpi stared at the bridge with renewed interest. So that was how it got its name I Her eyes danced. The things she was going to be able to tell the family when she got back!
So taken up was she with her surroundings that she didn't realise that the little guide was marching on and his flock of tourists following meekly behind. Stephanie, listening mechanically to Aniello's resonant tones, was straggling to one side.
It was Gray Barrett who brought all this to Carol's notice. Falling back, he scooped her along with him impatiently. He said to her coldly, though she noticed that he was looking at everything and constantly referring to his guide
book, 'Please remember, Miss Lindley, your first consideration is Stephanie. Venice is full of tourists. She could easily miss us.'
Carol nodded mutely and stumbled hurriedly alongside him. But nothing could douse the smiling eagerness in her as she gazed around. Gray Barrett was all prepared to return to his printed description of the city, but somehow he didn't seem to be able to remove his critical gaze from Carol's sparkling awareness as quickly as he would have liked. He forgot his list of churches and famous places and pointing ahead said brusquely, 'We're coming up to St Mark's Square. You'll be able to see the Piazzetta and the Basilica San Marco.'
'Oh!' Carol gave a gasp of delight. She had no idea what these places were, but they sounded wonderful. And for some reason, because Gray Barrett had put himself out to mention them to her, she felt strangely light-hearted, and her eyes held a new sunny glow.
Past two monolithic columns on the waterfront, one with a winged lion on top and one with a robed figure holding a stick, Aniello led them into the square. Here Carol struggled to keep up with his fast-flowing spiel on the Doge's Palace, St Mark's Cathedral, the Campanile and goodness knows what else. She caught snatches of description... Byzantine mosaic... Greek horses beaten from copper ... and heard all about the Zodiac clock and its two bronze giants who for five hundred years had struck every hour.
They saw the golden staircase in the Doge's Palace, a „ breathtaking sight, and the old library with its beautiful interior decoration. There were groups of tourists being led by guides everywhere. Carol, remembering what she had been told, stuck close to Stephanie. Stephanie, thoroughly bored by this time, stuck close to her uncle, who in turn stuck close to his guide book plus the learned words of Aniello.
The little guide's chat was humorous and entertaining, and Carol was far too dazzled at what she was looking at to give the other two in her party more than a thread of her attention. She was only vaguely aware that Gray Barrett, seemingly in tune with her lively, receptive mood, would occasionally bring himself down to her level and gruffly point out an extra item of interest.
When they went up the campanile towering over St Mark's Square and looked out on the fabulously clear day over unforgettable views of Venice, he said suddenly, bending close, 'Look, you can see the Alps.'
Carol, gazing to where his firm brown hand pointed away in the distance to pearl-misted peaks, felt that if she saw any more she would burst.
For lunch Aniello led them proudly through a labyrinth of narrow streets off the square to a restaurant with an eighteenth-century setting. Carol had langouste; Stephanie chose a pasta dish, the same as her uncle.
Aniello disappeared, presumably to re-charge himself for the afternoon session, when they were to see the riverside palaces, the Rialto bridge and the street markets. He reappeared at three o'clock and for the next three hours valiantly maintained his pace and his humorous flow of conversation.
Oitf of all that she saw in the afternoon, Carol was overwhelmed by the Venetian glassware in the market.
It was the loveliest coloured and most exquisitely shaped glass she had seen in her life. For long enough she hung about a stall of elegant figurines, and Stephanie, for once enchanted herself at the dazzling array, clung to her side sharing her pleasure and watching her expectantly.
At one time, answering the younger girl's questioning look, Carol admitted timidly, 'Oh, I'd love to buy a gift here for my mother. Would your uncle have enough money on him, do you think?'
Knowing that he had forbidden them to bring their handbags for fear of pickpockets, Stephanie gave her a push and said, eager to see a sale, 'Well, go and ask him.'
Carol was seized with shyness. Though she had spent the best part of the day in Gray Barrett's company, it hadn't melted her awe of him. She shuffled up to where he was giving a beaten copper plaque his critical attention, and croaked out her request.
From his height, Gray Barrett lowered an ear to her faint words in the clamour and commotion around them. Then, training his glance over the glassware stalls, he shook his head and told her briskly, 'All this is sub-standard stock. For the genuine article you want the shops around St Mark's Square.'
Carol looked back in disappointment at the stall. She couldn't see any flaws in the elegant figurines and she doubted whether her mother would have done, and she knew the shops in St Mark's Square were fantastically expensive. But she daren't argue with that piercing gaze fixed on her.
Dusk was settling over the Rialto district. She forgot all about the glassware a few minutes later when Aniello came bustling in to inform his flock that they were going for refreshments and then a gondola ride to round off the day.
Stephanie's face dropped when she heard the guide's words. She looked up at her uncle while the group were shuffling together and pleaded, 'Oh, Gray, do we have to? Couldn't we just go wandering off on our own for the last hour?'
Hemmed in close to Stephanie's uncle and looking up at him too, Carol held her breath. To come to Venice and not go in a gondola! The idea was unthinkable. With her eager blue gaze watching him intently Gray Barrett paused for several moments. Then he flicked his glance over Stephanie. 'It's paid for,' he said drily, and with his usual acerbity. 'Also you'll learn more from a gondola trip than you will wandering af a loose end in the streets.'
It was almost dark when everyone lined up alongside a tiny landing stage where a tongue of water at the end of a narrow canal licked over a stretch of earthy sand. The gondolas, long slim shapes with curled up ends like the toe of a mandarin's slipper, held about half a dozen people.
There was much commotion amongst the tourist group because friends and families didn't want to be split up. Often Aniello had to go touting up and down the line looking for a single person to fill an odd seat. Carol considered that her party were lucky, for when their turn came she and Stephanie and Gray Barrett were grouped off with a family threesome, so there were no problems.
Getting into the gondola was tricky. With the rising tide it bobbed about like a cork and one had to step up over the high curled prow and scramble down into sort of padded makeshift armchairs that were scattered about.
Chuckling delightedly, the family threesome went in first. Gray Barrett stood aside and gave them a hand up. Then he swung Stephanie in. Carol was taller and not so nimble on her feet, and the wild rocking of the boat with all the others scrambling drunkenly for seats didn't help. She didn't see how she could possibly set foot on the bouncing craft without tipping head first into the water.
She took so long that by this time Gray Barrett had climbed aboard himself. He looked back at her stranded and reached out, gingering her up with his impatient look to tell her, 'Take my hand. You're perfectly safe.'
Carol did as she was ordered, but she knew her limitations better than he. Though he held her hand like a vice as she jumped she knew she couldn't possibly keep her balance on the sloping ramp where they were both perched. To save herself from taking a ducking she clung to him as though he was a long-lost friend. Fleetingly she felt the brush of his stern jaw against her cheek.
Fortunately all this time the gondolier, a swarthy figure in black and white striped tee-shirt and flapping trousers, had been holding the craft as steady as he could with his long pole. Beside her on the ramp he also gave her a hand to keep her balance so she was able to laugh the whole thing off and stumble down into the boat to find a place.
Stephanie was hanging about waiting to see where she was going to sit. Together they took the two seats looking out over the side of the gondola. Carol was too flustered to notice where Gray Barrett was sitting. Vaguely she was aware that he was somewhere at the stern of the boat.
It was now quite dark and once they had pushed off away from the lights of the boarding platform there was nothing to be seen but the little lanterns at the bow and stern of the gondola and the black glittering strip of canal ahead of them.
The route, as they slid along, was hardly wider than a pavement walk. The only noise was the water lapping against
the houses. Aniello had told them all about the old days when the nobles were rowed out on the sultry summer evenings and to break the monotony the gondoliers sang over the silent waters of the lagoon. So it was no surprise when their own boatman began to sing softly.
There was nothing embarrassing about the sound. He had a mellow tenor voice which washed over the moss-draped time-worn buildings as naturally as the lapping waves and the warm night breezes.
In this way they slid noiselessly through the blackness, meetings at corners with other gondoliers singing other songs, and eventually joining a caravan of gondolas illuminated with Japanese lanterns.
The highlight of the trip, as far as Carol was concerned, was when they were gliding along a narrow lane and came upon the sound of music. It was a fairytale scene. Great arched windows of a sixteenth-century palace were opened to the night and in a red and gilded ballroom lit with hundreds of glowing candles, they could see elegantly dressed men and women dancing and drinking champagne.
Outside the palace, the small square at the side was alive with people listening to the music. The young were dancing to the strains of a waltz.
Carol's enraptured gaze was still lit by the glow of all she had seen long after, when they had left the gondolas and were lined up on the Riva degli Schiavoni ready for the return journey to the Lido. Beside the reflected lights glistening on the black waters of the lagoon Aniello, not in any way jaded by his long day, was striding round checking his flock.
At the landing stage Gray Barrett ushered the girls towards the launch in with the rest of the group, making it clear that he wouldn't be returning to the hotel with them.
Looking back now on the excitement of the day, Carol was only too aware that once again she had flopped badly in the role of cool composed chaperone. No doubt these were Gray Barrett's thoughts too. She hadn't missed his hawk eye on her laughing exhilara- t'on throughout the day. And she could feel his brown eves, now, raking her starry-eyed look. Obviously he didn't think she was capable of getting herself and Stephanie back to the hotel without help, for she saw him having one of his stern words with Aniello, and she saw the little guide smile reassuringly and nod in their direction.
Across the Lagoon Page 9
