Territorial Rights by Muriel Spark Page A

baggage and bundles, her square packages of canvases and painting-books, into the Ca’ Winter.’ It’s incredible,’ she said. ‘Robert promised to come and help me. I waited in all morning. I went down to the bar and I phoned his hotel Sofia. The lady answered; she said he wasn’t in, his bed has not been slept in and so therefore he must have been out all night. I phoned Curran and he was out. Then I bought a coffee and a bun and went to the Hotel Lord Byron. Curran just came in. He didn’t see Robert for two days. He said Robert wasn’t with him. But I said I had this appointment this morning at ten. So we phoned the Sofia again. No sign of Robert. Now I did my moving myself as I can easy do. But I wonder where is Robert?’
    ‘Maybe he’s gone back to Paris?’ Violet said, her eyes seeming to count the bundles and packages that had now been moved from the boat to the landing-stage and from there to the black and white squared floor of her elegant entrance-hall. ‘Is this all your stuff?’ Violet said.
    ‘Yes, it’s all mine.’
    ‘I mean, is there any more to come?’
    ‘Another boat-load, easy,’ said Lina. ‘Can you pay the fares? I don’t have no spare cash.’
    ‘Don’t think me interfering,’ Violet said, ‘but that carton of kitchen stuff could have been left behind.’ She was pointing to a large carton, bursting at its edges, which contained jars, tins and bottles of salt, vinegar, old pieces of soap that had been filched from public wash-rooms, toilet paper, a feather duster, three scorched pots, a black-looking frying-pan, a large bottle containing two inches of oil, a bottle with a half-used pink candle stuck into it, and other items of Lina’s household goods. She said, ‘The duster I need for my paintings; they should be cleaned only with the feathery duster which I need. I met Robert’s father at the Lord Byron and his woman who is not so bad. She won a football lottery but that doesn’t make her rich like Robert said. I can leave these things down here if you like as I have to go back for more, at least two journeys, and Robert is waiting for me I am sure. He is—’
    ‘What was that you said,’ said Violet, ‘about Robert’s father and his friend?’
    ‘Curran introduced me. They had not seen Robert, neither. The father said he didn’t know, didn’t care. The courtesan was not so bad and, you know, Violet, she was helpful to me, I must say. She said any friend of Robert’s is a friend of hers. A real woman.’
    ‘And the football pool? What did you say! She won a prize?’
    ‘She is not so rich like Robert said she was. Only she won a football pool and that is rich for a cook, and it would be rich for me. But she isn’t rich like a millionaire that stinks so much. Curran came back to my flat to help me with my belongings. Curran was kind to me. I know it’s for the sake of Robert but it’s nice just the same. He’s got another boat coming with more of my goods right now.’
    Violet stared at Lina as she rattled on. Lina was counting, checking, and shifting her bundles as she spoke, but Violet’s ears had picked out one item only: Mary Tiller was not in the blackmail-rich category. This simple piece of information had come to her from the source she had employed to get it, and Violet, with her eyes on Lina’s bundles, now wavered somewhat. ‘Are you sure,’ said Violet, ‘that the lady-friend of Mr Leaver is not a very wealthy person? I understood she was. This is an example of the type of research I wanted you to do, Lina. You must be sure of your facts.’
    ‘But I am always sure of all my facts. I will get facts from all the visitors in Venice. I was told it from Grace Gregory, who I met at the Sofia, an old woman who looked after the schoolboys when Robert was at school. She had a frizzy-hair boy with her, so dumb. Curran was laughing a lot when he told me of the mistress of Robert’s father who is Mary Tiller, Curran likes her and he said she acts like