One of the others shrugged and hiccupped. ‘We were just leaving, weren’t we?’
The three men turned and stumbled back the way they’d come, as the newcomer stood aside to let them through. Gina’s heart was thumping, but she didn’t want to betray any sign of her distress.
‘Are you OK?’ the man asked. His accent sounded local, his voice low and mellifluous.
‘Perfectly,’ Gina shot back. ‘I can look after myself.’
The man paused, then bowed. ‘As long as you’re all right, signora. Forgive my misunderstanding. Enjoy the Carnival.’
Gina found herself meeting the blue eyes behind the mask and for a moment there was a connection, almost as if she recognized the man beneath, which she knew was absurd. But before she could speak, he turned and swept away, his red cape sweeping in a circle as he strode quickly away. Gina was assailed by emotions: anger at herself for ending up in such a vulnerable position, and relief that the three men had gone; but a surprising regret that she’d been so impolite to the man in the bear mask.
‘Hey,’ she called out, setting off at a pace. A few steps ahead, she saw the man’s cape disappear round a corner. The streets were busier once more, and the crowds closed around him. It suddenly felt imperative that she apologize, and Gina pushed through the throng to reach him.
‘Hey,’ she shouted again. ‘Excuse me.’ She stretched out her arm and managed to reach him with her fingertips. He whirled round, and for a moment they regarded each other. Gina couldn’t read his expression behind his mask, but she could see him watching her.
‘Hello,’ he said evenly. ‘I would say “Can I help you?”, but I know you can look after yourself.’
Beneath her mask, Gina’s cheeks burned. ‘I’m sorry for the way I spoke. I was … a bit disoriented.’
‘That’s understandable.’ He inclined his head. ‘But you should never go wandering down dark alleys like that. Stick to the tourist routes.’
‘I’m not a tourist,’ she shot back hotly, without thinking what she was saying.
‘A Venetian?’ He sounded surprised. ‘A rarity, what were you doing wandering through the back alleys?’
‘I’m not a Venetian either.’
‘No? Then …?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Gina shook her head, now feeling foolish for having run after him. ‘I just wanted to apologize for forgetting my manners. Buona notte, signore.’ She turned to leave, but at that moment there was an enormous boom, like a cannon firing, and a wave of cheers rippled across the city.
‘The parade’s starting,’ the man said, calmly.
Gina swore under her breath, cursing herself for losing track of time and drifting so far from the main square. ‘It’ll be impossible to get a good view now.’
The man paused for a fraction of a second. ‘Come with me,’ he said confidently, taking hold of her hand and pulling her through the crowd.
This time, Gina didn’t hesitate, adrenaline shooting through her as she let herself be led through the streets, her palm in his. For a second, she wondered what on earth she was doing, but there was something about him that seemed innately honourable, and Gina had learned to trust her instincts.
He guided her along alleyways and over bridges, before finally turning down the side of what looked like an abandoned church and climbing a staircase at the back of the building.
‘Up here.’
She followed him up the twisting staircase and they emerged onto a wide strip of flat rooftop, nestled amongst the terracotta tiles that stretched away across the city. The terrace itself was magnificent, with dark wooden floorboards, a crumbling stone wall, and a balustrade balcony over which ivy and wisteria ran riot. The paint was peeling, and the flora was out of control, but the terrace had huge potential and gave off an air of faded grandeur.
The most spectacular part, however, was the view: from here they had an uninterrupted vista over the Grand Canal, looking right across the water to the iconic church of Santa Maria della Salute, and the Punta della Dogana museum beside it. Beyond, Gina could see the White Palace Hotel, a beacon of light emerging from the lagoon on its own private island. A procession of boats was snaking along the S-shaped canal in a profusion of colour and light, as classical music carried on the night air and a full moon hung low in the cloudless sky.
‘Oh my,’ Gina breathed. She was thinking how incredible her VIP guests would find this secluded spot – it was utterly perfect for a romantic sunset dinner. ‘How did you discover this place? I’ve lived here for many years but had no idea it was here.’
‘The city has many secrets. She’ll never reveal them all to one person.’
Gina thought about his words. It was true that the city, despite the millions of tourists that visited each year, had its secret places – hidden alleyways, mysterious passages, darker mysteries that would never be revealed – but that was all right, because people had secrets too, she thought, shivering slightly.
‘Are you cold?’ the man asked.
‘Only a little …’
The man took off his cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. Gina was touched by the old-fashioned gesture.
‘Now you’ll be cold,’ she joked.
‘I know I have lived because I have felt,’ he said in reply, his tone playful.
Gina caught her breath. He was quoting Casanova; she recognized the words instantly. ‘I know likewise that I shall exist no more when I have ceased to feel.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
He turned to her, staring at her intently from behind his mask. Gina’s heart was thumping. Who was this mysterious man who had appeared out of thin air to rescue her, who took her to a place she’d never even heard about in her own city and spoke the words of the legendary Giacomo Casanova?
A firework whistled into the night sky, breaking the spell of the moment, exploding into a thousand shimmering stars that illuminated the city then faded to blackness. It was followed by dozens more, and the two of them sat side by side on two abandoned crates, happiness flooding through Gina as she watched the display. It was so magical – like something out of a film – that she almost wanted to laugh.
‘It’s astonishing to think that some form of Carnival has been happening in Venice for almost a thousand years,’ the man said, without taking his eyes from the sky.
‘That’s why the city feels so timeless. I hope it’s still happening for another thousand years.’
‘It’ll likely be underwater by then,’ he said sadly.
‘Don’t say that. I don’t want to think about it. Venice is unique, I can’t bear to think of it not being here any more.’
‘You love the city, don’t you?’ He turned to her, his eyes warm.
