Miss Garnet's Angel by Salley Vickers Page A

the seven angels? Michael, Gabriel, Raphael.
After a while she remembered Uriel from
Paradise Lost
and added his name.
Find out names of other three.
    *    *    *
    â€˜The architect in charge of the works is Venetian, of course,’ Sarah said, ‘and everything, absolutely everything must be referred to the two
Soprintendenti:
one for monuments and one for painting. It’s a pain!’
    Julia had been disconcerted to hear from Signora Mignelli that while she was out at the post office, mailing a present to Vera (a brown-marbled notebook as a ‘thank you’ for the Bible and Apocrypha), a ‘young lady’ had called asking for her. Julia’s nerve for socialising had been blasted. But she had made a point before of suggesting Sarah bring her brother to tea. It was impolite not to follow up the invitation. In any case they very likely wouldn’t come.
    To her dismay, however, the twins had come the very next afternoon as she was sitting on her balcony, and now they were sitting there too, with the enamel teapot doing service.
    The conversation had been stilted. Julia had asked rather tentatively about the restoration, but only Sarah had answered. Julia, trying to include the mute twin, asked, ‘So, Toby, you’re the mosaicist? It’s the floor then, that’s your department?’ She did not want to mention that it was Carlo who had told her.
    But Toby only said, ‘Yeah. I need some cigarettes,’ and got up and abruptly left the two of them on the balcony.
    â€˜Sorry about that,’ his sister said, watching him cross the
campo.
‘He’s terribly moody. Love does that.’
    â€˜Oh dear!’ Julia felt perturbed. Over the past days she had found her mind returning to the angel whose name means ‘God’s healing’. She had wanted to thank Toby for the introductionto the stone effigy which presided so beatifically over the chapel. A young man in love was outside her imaginative reach and yet her own condition made her tender towards another sufferer. A sudden image of Carlo’s hand, across the table at the restaurant by the Arsenale, made her ask, ‘Is it a local girl?’
    â€˜No. He expected to hear from her on Valentine’s Day and didn’t. He’s like a bear with a sore head.’
    â€˜I’m sorry.’ Almost Julia felt it was her fault that Toby’s girl had not written to him. She had forgotten about valentines: she had had little cause in her life to remember them.
    â€˜He’ll get over it. Did you know they used to celebrate Candlemas on Valentine’s Day here?’
    â€˜I’m afraid I’m very ignorant about the Church.’ Julia, casting about for conversational topics, had told the twins about the service she had funked in the Angelo Raffaele. ‘I’d never heard of Candlemas.’ It was from Carlo she had learned about it—Carlo who had taught her so much—the day she had idiotically read Nicco
The Tale of Jemima Puddle-duck.
The day that, like a fool, she had thought to interest Carlo with her pathetic account of her evening with the Cutforths!
    â€˜We were made to go to church at home,’ said Sarah, pulling a face. ‘Listen, weren’t you going to tell me the story of the Guardis?’
    *    *    *
    Afterwards, Julia could never be sure whether she had already decided not to tell the girl the story of Tobit and his son’s journey with the disguised angel, or whether it was inresponse to what, looking out over the roofs of the
chiesa,
she suddenly saw there, that she all at once stood up saying, ‘Is it me or is it getting cold?’ and ushered her guest, quite urgently, inside.

    M y nephew had got himself preferment, Cupbearer and Signatory to the new king, a valuable position and one which breeds trust. So when my nephew spoke for me the king listened; he was a bookish man and his chief fancy was