Dreaming of Venice

by Dreaming of Venice (retail) (epub)

  She went to the dentist and emerged with gleaming white teeth, very glad she hadn’t had to pay the bill. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long before she was able to move out of her old place and into the warmth and comfort of Caroline’s house in Crouch End. This happened sooner than she had anticipated, after the rat she had seen was discovered not to have been acting alone. When a nest of little rat-babies was found under the sink, the landlord had no option but to let her move out straight away and, to her relief, he even arranged the prompt return of her deposit, no doubt fearful that she might go to the Environmental Health department at the local council. Vicky also found herself new accommodation, but they were both unsurprised to learn that the Strange Man had opted to stay on, in spite of the rodents. Or maybe because of them.

  Penny also left the Apocalypse and got herself a new job. As Caroline had predicted, her recent makeover and her swanky clothes ensured that the JC coffee shop offered her a job on the spot. The pay was quite a bit better than she had been getting from Spiro and the tips were amazing. With the extra cash coming in from her Olivia role, she was soon a lot better off than she had ever been, and debt free as well, as long as she didn’t think about her student loan. She bade farewell to the boys at the Apocalypse with mixed feelings. On the one hand she was relieved to get away from the constant taunts and sometimes downright obscene comments of some of the customers, but on the other, she knew she would miss the old place. Spiro’s job had helped her through some hard times and she would always be grateful to him. She knew she would stay in touch with Jimmy, who, now that he had finally given up implying that her new-found affluence was as a result of dirty deeds, had reverted to being her fashion advisor and general confidant. Naturally, this confidence didn’t extend as far as her telling him the real reason for her improved circumstances, a secret she had revealed to nobody, not even her mother or Owen, for fear of legal repercussions.

  Meanwhile, Penny had several more “official” engagements and these went much better than the Brighton conference, though it was still hard work, both in trying to keep up the illusion that she was Olivia and in the more specific task of improving relations between the Brookes-Webster family and the scientific community. She attended some evening events and a couple of one-day conferences and Mrs Brookes-Webster was absent on all of these occasions. The conferences were in London and in Cambridge, and Caroline accompanied her to both. Without the handicap of Mrs B-W’s presence, things were a lot less stressful and Penny was delighted for Caroline as she saw her spending time with Nick. There was no doubt that Penny was by now totally accepted by everybody as being Olivia, and she hoped that the enthusiasm she genuinely felt for the whole subject of the environment would shine through, and that her polite and friendly attitude would start to rebuild bridges. In this way she gradually began to see relations between the scientific world and the Brookes-Webster family begin to improve.

  Once she had moved into Caroline’s house, Penny started pottering about in the kitchen. She had always enjoyed cooking, but the facilities where she had been living up till now had been primitive to say the least. Now, with state of the art ovens and hobs to play with, she started experimenting with all sorts, from sponge cake to a Sunday roast. One Sunday, as she and Caroline were clearing away the plates after lunch, Penny had an idea. ‘Why don’t we invite Olivia round for a meal? It would be good for her to get out for once.’

  ‘She won’t come.’ Caroline was sure of that. ‘She still hardly ever leaves the house these days.’

  ‘Well, all she’d have to do would be to get in the car and get the driver to bring her here and then take her back. She sees you on a daily basis and she certainly knows my face, so it shouldn’t be too scary for her. Why not give it a go? I’m working days next week, so any evening would be good for me.’ She had a thought. ‘You’d better check what sort of food she likes, though, and if she’s allergic to anything. It wouldn’t look too good if we poisoned our boss.’

  * * *

  To Caroline’s surprise, Olivia accepted the invitation. After due consultation, Penny decided to make a fish pie, accompanied by roast fennel cooked with onions and celery. As a starter she opted for a mixed salad to be served with slices of grilled goat’s cheese. As the big day approached, both she and Caroline began to feel unreasonably nervous and worked off their trepidation by subjecting the already tidy house to a total spring clean, although it was now November.

  Their nerves proved to be unfounded.

  Olivia and Gilbert the dog arrived in a chauffeur-driven car, mercifully not her stepmother’s ostentatious Bentley, just after the agreed time of seven o'clock. The driver removed a case of champagne from the boot and carried it up to the house, handing it over to Caroline on the doorstep. To be on the safe side, Penny was hiding inside the house in case anybody should see her with her identical twin. The dog spotted her as he trotted in and was evidently delighted to see her. Once the door was safely closed behind the other two, Penny emerged and came forward to lead Olivia into the kitchen. She and Caroline had discussed at some length whether to use the lounge, but had decided to keep things as informal as possible.

  Olivia was wearing a short blue skirt and a pale pink top, this time without a plunging neckline. Penny had opted for jeans and a lovely light grey jumper she had bought recently because it matched the colour of her eyes. Caroline had a bottle of prosecco already in the fridge so she opened that and sat with Olivia and chatted while Penny busied herself with the preparations. The dog, on the other hand, in true Labrador tradition, stationed himself close to where the food was, in hopeful expectation. After a while, Olivia got up and came round to watch what Penny was preparing.

  Penny looked up. ‘Do you do much cooking, Olivia?’ As she spoke, she had the sudden realisation that this was in all likelihood a rhetorical question. She imagined that millionaires probably didn’t do a lot of food preparation. She was right.

  ‘It’s something I’ve never learnt. When I was little I sometimes used to help the cook with things like biscuits and cakes, but I wouldn’t know where to start now.’ She leant against the granite and watched as Penny chopped spring onions and avocado for the salad. ‘I could probably do this kind of preparation of cold stuff, but it’s the cooking that would cause me headaches.’

  ‘There’s nothing to it, really.’

  ‘Have you been cooking all your life?’

  ‘My mum’s a great cook and I suppose I learnt from her.’ As she said it, Penny remembered that Olivia’s real mother had died when she was a little girl. Never one to dodge a challenge, she looked across and caught Olivia’s eye. ‘I heard about your mum. It must have been really hard, losing your mother when you were so young.’

  She saw Olivia’s eyes cloud and, for a moment, Penny thought she had maybe gone too far. Then Olivia managed to give her a little smile. ‘It's sweet of you to say that, Penny. Yes, it was really, really hard. Sometimes I think I still haven’t got over it.’ She took a mouthful of wine. ‘But my father was wonderful.’ The smile increased in intensity. ‘He was father and mother to me after her death.’

  Now that they were on this road, there was no point beating about the bush, so Penny carried on. ‘So his death was more than just losing your father.’

  Olivia nodded, her eyes on her wine glass. ‘He was my whole world. That’s why it hit me so hard. I’ve just been feeling so empty since he died. So empty and alone.’ She reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears. ‘Well, almost alone.’

  Penny realised there was real risk of this descending into a vin triste so she leapt in. ‘Well, you’re not alone now. You’ve got us two, a case of champagne and good old Gilbert. What more could a girl ask for?’ She mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that her jollity would do the trick. There was an agonising pause and then Olivia looked up. The smile, albeit a bit pasty, was back on her face. She cleared her throat.

  ‘Thanks, Penny. You’re right. I’m not alone and you two are so very kind to have
invited me. Let’s see that we have a really good evening.’

  And it was. Penny’s food was pronounced excellent, the fish pie getting a special mention. By the time they finished, all three were full, fairly tipsy and getting on really well. The dog, after a few handouts, was stretched out on the floor, snoring loudly, and Olivia had loosened up and sounded much more cheerful. At the end of the evening, she thanked them both.

  ‘That’s the best night I’ve had for months and months. There’s just one problem now. I can’t offer to cook for you because I don’t know how, and I can’t offer to take you out to a restaurant because you and I, Penny, can’t be seen together. It’s such a pity. I’d really like to return the favour.’

  ‘Um… well, there might be a solution.’ Penny had been thinking about this ever since Olivia’s confession that she didn’t know how to cook. ‘If you like, I could try and give you a few cookery lessons. I’m no great shakes, but I’m fairly okay on the basics. Then, if you wanted to, you could cook us a meal. Besides, learning to cook could come in handy and, you know what they say about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach… I’d be very happy to do that here, or at your place, if you want to give it a go.’

  ‘Penny, I’d really love that.’ Olivia looked and sounded really pleased, and they arranged that Penny would go to the house in Notting Hill the following week on Wednesday morning, by which time she would be on the late shift at work and free until two o'clock every day. Olivia kissed them both on the cheeks as she left with the dog, thanking them again most warmly.

  After the front door closed, Penny sprawled on one of the low wicker armchairs by the window. There was still a drop of wine in the bottom of a bottle so she divided it between their two glasses, ignoring Caroline’s feeble protests that she’d had enough. Penny had been thinking about Owen and how nice it would be to have him here with her now. Having only just moved into Caroline’s house, she felt awkward about inviting him round to stay the night, although as far as she was concerned, the idea had considerable appeal. She took a sip of wine as Caroline looked across at her.

  ‘Have you ever considered giving up art and taking up counselling? I wouldn’t mind betting you’ve been better for Olivia and her emotional problems tonight than all the shrinks and pills she’s had since her father died.’

  Penny took another sip of wine, relegating thoughts of Owen to the back of her mind for now. She let it go down, drop by drop, and reflected on the way the evening had gone. ‘You know something, Caroline? I really like Olivia. It just goes to show that you should never go by first impressions. When I first met her I thought she was a surly, spoilt brat, but she’s not at all. Well, at least, not when you consider her upbringing. I mean, she’s never had to lift a finger. Can you imagine not being able to boil an egg?’

  Caroline nodded, leaning back and stretching her legs, resting them on the coffee table. ‘I’ve always liked her. Before her dad died, she was a normal friendly girl, give or take a few millions. Yes, her lifestyle was a bit unusual, with the limousines, the jewellery and those ridiculously expensive dresses her stepmother insists she wear. But underneath all that, she’s a nice girl and she’s always been good to me.’

  ‘Well, let’s just hope she continues to make progress now, getting herself back to normal.’

  ‘Well, if anybody can get to Olivia, you can, Penny.’ Penny raised her eyebrows but Caroline carried on. ‘Maybe it’s because the two of you look so similar, but I can tell she definitely likes you a lot and listens to you. You must have noticed how she spent most of the evening talking to you, not me.’ She took another sip of wine. ‘Maybe she feels you’re like a real twin sister.’

  Penny half-closed her eyes and mulled over what Caroline had said. Her sister Diane was five years older than her and, although they had always been close, their relationship had always been big sister and little sister, with Diane sort of a halfway house between her and her mother. There were things Penny had told Diane that she hadn’t felt she could tell her mum, but there had been other things that she had told her best friend at school and not Diane. Now, with Olivia, she was beginning to feel a link that she hadn’t had before. Maybe they could become close friends, although as long as what the lawyer had called their charade continued, it would have to be a friendship behind closed doors.

  That night’s Venice dream was a comedy of errors as she and Olivia followed each other around the city, getting lost and terribly confused, and confusing all those who saw them. What she knew she needed was a guide, preferably a tall dark-haired guide with a bushy beard, but there was no sign of anybody like that in this dream.

  Chapter 12

  Next morning, before she went off to work, Penny checked her emails and found the one she had been praying for. She took a deep breath before opening it, hoping against hope that the response was going to be positive, and she read it with bated breath. The email was signed by a man called Ernesto Lefevre, whose title was Principal and Proprietor of the best-known art gallery in Piccadilly, coincidentally only a few hundred yards along the road from the JC café. She had sent him photos of her work almost two months ago and all she had got back so far had been a one-line acknowledgement of receipt. Now, at last, she received the news she had dying to hear. He expressed considerable interest in her work and he invited her to bring a representative selection to his gallery for scrutiny at ten o'clock on Tuesday.

  She spent most of her free time over the weekend reviewing her paintings, checking that all was in order with them. As always, as soon as she started doing this she found herself having to fight the urge to start changing things. She painted in oils and she knew the paintings had to be dry for Tuesday, so she resisted the temptation to interfere with them too much. After a lot of deliberation, she decided to include the first of her abstract paintings, even though it was very different from the others. Since completing that one, she had started two more abstracts and she found she was developing a definite affinity for the genre. She attached a label to the back of each with the title and then packed them in bubble wrap. When Tuesday came, she called a taxi to take her and her precious cargo to the gallery.

  She was met by Ernesto Lefevre himself. She hadn’t met him before and she hadn’t been too sure what to expect. From his name, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find herself confronted by a Salvador Dali look-alike, complete with waxed moustache. Instead, she found Mr Lefevre to be a jovial, rotund gentleman in a silk waistcoat, with the sort of Cockney accent that would have done justice to a barrow boy.

  ‘Penelope, darling, welcome.’ He stretched out his arms towards her and greeted her with a hug. Due to the shortness of his arms and the girth of his waist, his fingers barely reached her, but she hugged him warmly in return.

  ‘I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mr Lefevre.’

  ‘Nesto, please. Everybody calls me Nesto.’

  ‘Well, then I’m Penny. I only use Penelope on formal occasions.’

  ‘Excellent. Now, Penny, let me see your work. I absolutely loved the photos you sent me, but there’s nothing like the real thing, seeing them in the flesh, so to speak.’

  All in all, Penny was with him for well over an hour. Partway through, he telephoned a colleague, a woman called Eleanor, who joined them. Penny recognised her face from a few art gatherings she had attended and was relieved to find her very friendly. They were both very pleasant, and Ernesto managed to put a very nervous Penny at her ease quickly, after which the conversation flowed quite freely. He was very interested to hear of her background, particularly her MA, and the fact that she had taken a year out after university to work alongside a big name artist in Florence. She saw interest in their eyes as she spoke about the developments her work had undergone as a result, but she left out the fact that the old Florentine had spent most of his time trying, in vain, to inveigle her into bed with him.

  Hesitantly, after showing them her landscapes, she unwrapped the abstract painting and held her breath. To her amaz
ement, both Ernesto and Eleanor loved it. They loved the shapes, the bright colours, and they particularly loved the inspiration that had made her rub a broad stripe vertically down the middle of the canvas.

  ‘Jackson Pollock meets Kandinsky, darling. I love it.’ Ernesto looked and sounded animated. ‘What a versatile artist you are. Don’t you think so, Eleanor?’

  ‘Terrific. Absolutely terrific.’ She looked across at Penny. ‘Have you got any more of these?’

  Penny shook her head. ‘It’s the first of a new series of abstracts. I’ve been working on another couple, but it’ll be a while before I’ve got a worthwhile selection to show you.’

  ‘Well, you just keep working on them, I love this stuff.’ Ernesto returned his attention to the painting for some minutes before going back to the others and resuming his study of her work.

  A few minutes later, however, the strangest thing happened. Penny was sitting back with her fingers crossed, staring out of the window onto Piccadilly, while Ernesto and Eleanor discussed her work between themselves. As she gazed blankly at the passers-by, her eyes focused on a man walking past on the crowded pavement in front of the gallery. She only saw him for a few seconds, but she couldn’t mistake him. The unruly mass of black hair and the bushy beard were all too conspicuous. He was looking in, but his attention was directed at the paintings in the window as he went by and then disappeared from view. She snapped upright so abruptly she almost sent her cup of herbal tea flying, and received a quizzical look from Ernesto as a result.