Venetian Valentine

by Kristian Parker

“Get down.”

  We both hugged the roof and watched the policeman as he looked this way and that. Surely he’d see us! I willed him to disappear…and my foot started to slip over the edge, my other leg dangling in the air as I tried to make myself as flat as possible.

  Sergio lay farther up the roof and had a better view. I gripped onto the tiles with all my might, waiting for his signal that it was safe again.

  At long last, I heard the window close and the lights from the corridor went dark.

  Sergio was gesturing to me. “Go!”

  Now less worried about the gap, I took a deep breath and hopped across. I just wanted to get on firm ground. They make this look far easier in the movies.

  Thankfully, we soon dropped down onto the terrace. My legs were shaking as I held on to a chair for support, one of many. We’d landed outside a bar. The space would hold about thirty people and had a DJ deck, bar and some tables, but now the whole place sat eerily silent. I went to open the door to the building, but Sergio pulled me back.

  “It will be alarmed.”

  We searched around for another choice and I saw a tiny wrought iron staircase, obviously the Italian nod to fire safety. “Plan B.”

  Sergio took hold of my arm. “Andrew, listen to me a second. If they found us at the hotel, you know what that means?”

  I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t want a discussion right at this moment. I just wanted to get out of there.

  “They found your wallet. That means they have pulled up the gondola. It is registered to my brother.”

  A cold chill ran across me.

  “They’ll find him,” I said. Nothing like stating the obvious, but I didn’t know what else to say. The whole thing seemed to be getting bigger and scarier by the second.

  Sergio shook his head. “Not immediately. He is at his girlfriend’s, Isabella’s, house. But it won’t take them long.”

  “Then we have time to warn them.”

  Sergio nodded. He looked relieved that I had suggested it.

  “Where are they?”

  “Burano.”

  My heart sank. It had been too much to hope for that it would be a few streets away. Not the way this particular adventure’s decided to pan out.

  The island of Burano sat in the Venetian lagoon. I’d planned on visiting it the next day, something which struck me as ironic.

  It couldn’t be helped. Our next destination was Burano. We had time before the train south. I actually preferred that idea than trying to hide somewhere on this packed island for three hours.

  “Then that’s where we go,” I said, kissing him.

  “You are a good man.”

  We climbed down the steps and went through an alley before finding ourselves in St Mark’s Square. I cursed the square for being so big and open. It wouldn’t take the cops much longer to discover we’d fled. In minutes, they’d be swarming over here like ants. The place was deserted, and we were acting guiltily, at least in their eyes.

  Sergio took my hand and we ran across the square, trying to stay as close to the Basilica and the Doge’s Palace as we could. Thankfully, I was the type of guy who opted for a wardrobe of darker tones and not lurid colours.

  Casanova must have run through these streets after yet another assignation. It didn’t make me feel any better that we were a stone’s throw from the prison he’d earned himself a place in.

  Sergio checked around us before leading me towards the jetty I had arrived on less than two days ago.

  “You have money?” he asked, panting.

  I rummaged in my bag to check and nodded. Thank God I’d grabbed my things before we ran.

  Some of the water taxis were lined up, the drivers laughing and smoking and playing some game on their phones. Sergio went up to the nearest one and spoke to him. He nodded and Sergio gestured to me. With one last look behind us, I let out a cry.

  Two men, both in black, were coming around The Doges Palace and were running towards us. “Oh no,” I said.

  Sergio saw what I was looking at and shoved me onto the boat. “Go below deck.”

  “You sure?” asked the driver. “The sunrise will be beautiful.”

  He was being maddeningly slow and the men were coming down past the jetties. Looking at every one carefully. We had minutes—if we were lucky.

  Sergio took a deep breath, acting the part of the Italian romantic who had an English man in his thrall.

  “I have promised this man a sunrise in Burano. If you step on it, you will not make a liar of me.”

  The driver nodded and set his face in grim determination, flicking his cigarette into the sea.

  “I will get you there before sunrise. You have my word.”

  I nearly ended up on the floor of the boat as we lurched away from the jetty and into the lagoon at breakneck speed. Sergio snuggled down next to me. He took hold of my hand and let me feel the comforting warmth of his body. I craned my neck to see out of the window. I could see the men standing at the end of our jetty, watching us go.

  “Good thinking,” I said, smiling.

  “We have many differences, but all Italian men have honour. See, I am not just a beautiful face.”

  I laughed.

  “What is the matter? Is that not right?”

  “It’s close enough.”

  I couldn’t argue with him. He did have an incredibly beautiful face.

  The sun started to dawn as we bumped over the waves towards the island. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to run from the police twice, once involving a rooftop escape that James Bond would surely be proud of. Not only that, but I now sat in a boat, looking into the eyes of a gondolier who I might or might not be falling in love with. People don’t do this on holiday normally. A mixture of exhilaration and terror coursed through me at what the rest of the day had in store for us. The ride had started properly, and I could only hold on until the end.

  Chapter Six

  The honour of Italian men might be powerful, but it didn’t always pay dividends. We didn’t make it to Burano in time for the sunrise. The poor boatman could hardly look at me. I had to tip him handsomely. A tearful taxi man going back to Venice and telling anyone who would listen how he had failed an Englishman could draw unnecessary attention to us.…and in a town as closely knit as Venice, the police must have a string of informants. That was if those men hadn’t worked out where we were going and told them.

  The tip set him off again and we sent him on his way with assurances it really didn’t matter all that much.

  Missing the sunrise didn’t take away from the attraction of this unusual place. If Venice gave the impression of being on a movie set, in Burano I found myself slap-bang in a Disney cartoon. I instantly loved it.

  We were surrounded by a mass of fishing cottages painted all the colours of the rainbow and more besides, like a class of school children, all vying for attention.

  Sadly, we were not here to take in the quirky beauty of the place. Instead, we hurried through the main street until we reached a cottage painted coral pink.

  Sergio banged on the door.

  “Sergio.” I grabbed him. “Not so loud. It’s only seven-thirty. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

  Sergio cursed as a light went on across the street. “Gianni,” he whispered. The door opened slightly and Sergio pushed me through before anyone could come to the window opposite.

  A dark figure who I assumed to be Gianni went to turn the light on when Sergio hit his hand away.

  They started to argue softly in Italian.

  A half-asleep woman came down the stairs. She looked very pale and sleep-deprived, glancing from one brother to the other before settling on me.

  I smiled in apology.

  “Cosa sta succedendo?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know what to do, but the argument between the two brothers was getting heated.

  “English?” I stammered, ashamed of my lack of linguistic skills.

  “What is goin
g on?”

  Where to start? This poor woman faced a stranger in her kitchen about to tell her their lives might be in danger. This had to be handled delicately, no matter what language I chose to do it in.

  “Sergio and I are in a bit of trouble and we’re worried it might lead here.”

  Sergio and Gianni were silent for a moment. Gianni ran his hand through his hair.

  He looked like an older version of Sergio, a little rounder and going bald. I only had a younger sister back in England and wondered if having an older brother felt like looking into the future.

  Gianni glanced at me. “This isn’t your fault.”

  I must have looked terrified.

  “Can someone tell me what the problem is?” asked Isabella—I thought she was called—looking from one brother to the other.

  “Listen, Bella, the boys witnessed a crime.”

  “So, tell the police.”

  “I think the police are involved,” said Sergio.

  Isabella sank down into one of the chairs at the dining table and put her head in her hands. “Oh no. It’s happening again.”

  Gianni glanced at Sergio, who shook his head. They all knew something I didn’t. “This is totally different.”

  He rubbed his girlfriend’s back. I couldn’t help but be impressed at how he managed to suddenly start dealing with such a problem.

  “Bella, why don’t you go and pack for us? Just for a few days. It’s for the best.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’ll take the boat, go to Fusina. We can spend a couple of days with Carlo and Elisa. The boys can call us when everything is sorted out.”

  Isabella stood and scowled at Sergio. “Every time, every single time you bring trouble to my door.”

  Sergio took hold of her. “Isabella. This is not my fault. Not this time.”

  She shrugged herself free and pushed him back. “No, it never is. We have a baby now, Sergio. Do you understand what that means? We have to keep her safe.”

  “I know—”

  “Save it.” With that she stomped up the stairs, the noise suggesting she was scowling with every step.

  Sergio turned to me and took hold of my hand. “Don’t mind her. We have a difficult relationship.”

  Gianni let out a snort and sat down in the chair she had left empty. “That, my brother, is putting it mildly. Who are you, then?”

  “I’m Andrew. I’m a friend of Sergio’s.”

  Gianni smiled. “I’m sure you are. You might as well know now, trouble has a habit of following my brother around. How are you going to get yourselves out of it, huh? What is your next move?”

  A good question. We might have had a plan, but it depended on one man and that made me uncomfortable. Nagging doubts had started to creep into my mind. Antonio Valeri could just call the police as soon as we arrived. Our having run from one end of the country to the other would not go well in our favour. Then the pendulum of emotion swung the other way. We had no choice. We had already run from them twice—if we went to the police at this stage, it would practically be a confession.

  Sergio sat down opposite Gianni. “I have one more favour to ask.”

  “You are pushing your luck now.”

  Sergio put his hand on his brother’s arm. “Can you drop us near the station? It’s important, G. We need a chance to get on that train to Sorrento.”

  “What makes you so sure this Antonio Valeri is going to help you?”

  Hearing my thoughts spoken out loud made me feel ill. Outside, things were starting to come to life, the odd person wandering down the road. It wouldn’t be long until there were police coming down this same street or, even worse, those men in black or even both. I wanted us out of here as quickly as we could. I wished Isabella would appear at the bottom of the stairs with the baby and a bag and we could get back on the move. By waiting in this house, we were sitting ducks.

  “He has to,” I murmured. “Or we’re in real trouble.”

  In less than half an hour, we were in a boat and pulling away from a jetty. The boat had seen better days, but Sergio assured me we would get to the station on time.

  “I really am sorry about this,” I said to Isabella.

  We were bundled together at the back of the boat. Miraculously the baby hadn’t murmured once, even when the cold February air had hit her as we’d half-run, half-walked down the back streets. Luckily, we had managed to avoid people.

  “I know that. I am sorry for being a bit angry. I had just woken up. Gianni has told me what has happened. This must be so distressing for you.”

  Distressing? I had been running on adrenalin ever since Sergio had kissed me in that alley, and…I think I liked it that way. I’d probably be petrified if I stopped and really analysed our position. The brief preview in Gianni’s house had convinced me to bury the ‘what ifs’ and just go for it. “It has been a pretty awful holiday so far.”

  Isabella caught me looking at Sergio who was standing at the wheel, next to his brother.

  “Oh, I’m not so sure. It doesn’t seem like it’s been all bad, not by the look in your eye.”

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  “He is a good boy really,” she said, “He’s had his problems. Perhaps he needs a good man to help him settle down.” She winked at me.

  “Perhaps we both need that.”

  I didn’t know where this daring admission had come from. I’d only really known him for twelve hours, but I could feel real love for this man. I didn’t want to confuse matters by talking about love or the future. We needed to be safe first. Then we could talk about the future, whatever shape that might take.

  “Over there,” said Sergio suddenly.

  We all looked where he pointed. Horror chilled me at the sight of a police boat heading straight for us. There was no way we could avoid it without being obvious and we couldn’t get a new mother and her baby caught up in some sort of chase.

  Yet again, Gianni took control. “Okay, you two, get under the seats. Isabella, give me the bambina. Cover them, quickly. We aren’t close enough that they would have noticed you sitting down. I’ll say your mother is ill and we’re going to her.”

  We all did as he asked. I slotted in front of Sergio. His arm snaked around my waist and the warmth of his breath on my neck felt calming. Isabella quickly stuffed tarpaulin around us. We couldn’t see a thing and the smell of diesel turned my stomach, but at least we were relatively safe.

  It seemed to take an age until I heard the unmistakable sound of another boat coming near us. I shuddered as the two boats bumped together. Sergio tightened his grip on me, and I gently stroked his hand.

  There were voices in Italian. Gianni replied, his voice calm and easy. He even laughed with one of them.

  Then the baby started crying.

  I tensed but Sergio pulled me tighter. Nothing he did could stop my trembling. We could kiss goodbye to trying to protest any form of innocence if they found us hidden under a bench.

  My heart leapt when I heard another laugh. I relaxed a little but still held my breath.

  Next came another wonderful sound. Gianni fired the motor up again and the boat started to move. Relief welled up inside me and I had to struggle to not burst into tears right then and there.

  Isabella sat down above us. She moved the tarpaulin with her foot and the fresh air came rushing in like nectar. I gulped it in, trying to get the stench of fuel fumes out of my nose.

  “Stay there,” she said without looking down, “They aren’t so far away.”

  The baby had quietened down again. It sounded as though Isabella had sat down to nurse her.

  “Thank you, brother,” said Sergio.

  “You’re welcome. The bambina played the best part. What a time to wake up for her feed.”

  “I may have helped her a little, God help me,” said Isabella, guiltily.

  “Isabella.”

  “Just a little nip.”

  We all laughed, breaking the tension of the last
fifteen minutes. Every time we made it past what felt like another test, it gave me a lift. I settled back against Sergio and tried to enjoy this little time to relax before our next trial.

  Chapter Seven

  It took about thirty minutes until we were at a little jetty which ran alongside an old building. It looked abandoned. Venice seemed to have jetties everywhere.

  Getting off the boat, I still got a jolt of attraction when Sergio helped me out, even under these circumstances.

  “Thank you, both of you,” I said. “I am so sorry to bring this to your door.”

  “Here,” said Isabella, handing up their case.

  “What are you doing?” asked Sergio.

  “You stink. Both of you. Use Gianni’s clothes. You can bring me them back when this is all over.”

  Now she mentioned it, we did both smell of fuel and the boat hadn’t been exactly clean. We would stick out like sore thumbs in a chic Venetian station.

  “This must be an emergency if I’m going to wear Gianni’s clothes.”

  Gianni stuck his tongue out at his brother and fired the engine up. “Take care, both of you.”

  I took Sergio’s hand. “We will.”

  As they pulled away from the jetty, Isabella cried, waved and smiled all at the same time.

  We watched the boat disappear around the island, leaving just the two of us again. It had been nice to have some other people to share the load of this for a while.

  Sergio glanced at his watch. We had no time to rest if we were to make the train. “Quick, we haven’t got long. It’s not far.”

  The station sat on the mainland—I could see the island back across the bay. I suddenly had a vision of the police rifling through my things at the hotel. They had probably contacted my parents or Jodie, who would be beside themselves with worry.

  We made our way through the streets when suddenly the station building appeared. I never failed to be amazed how a huge inner-city station can just appear, as if from nowhere, yet hold the promise of travel to all sorts of places.

  In the main station, Sergio did the honours at the ticket booth. After only a couple of sentences, he banged the counter with irritation.

  “What’s the matter?”