The Venetian Venture by Suzette A. Hill Page A

civil to me. But frankly just
entre nous
, I rather think there are some hefty debts in the background, but it’s a topic I studiously avoid. After all hard enough keeping one’s own purse inthe black without having to be concerned for others’!’
    ‘Most wise,’ Felix agreed. ‘And anyone else?’
    ‘Yes a rather nice American. He paints. Obsessed with the Grand Canal and indeed with Venice generally. You’ll like him. A couple of others may look in. And of course Dilly and Duffy are coming but they are always late, bred in the bone you might say.’
    ‘Dilly and Duffy? Who are they – friends of Caruso?’ Cedric enquired.
    Hope-Landers laughed. ‘Oh no, perfectly human I can assure you. They are twins of the inseparable kind, though I must say at sixty-plus just a trifle old to dress in the same frocks but I gather it’s something you can’t avoid, psychological I suppose. Anyway they are very civil and jolly – that is, until they’ve had a few and then they’re fiendish.’
    ‘I see. And are they likely to become so today?’
    ‘Shouldn’t think so; the cabaret is most spectacular on Sunday evenings. At other times they are largely docile. Although they’re not too keen on Lucia’s brother – take rather a dim view, so you may detect an element of
froideur
.’
    ‘Really? What don’t they like in particular?’
    Hope-Landers paused. ‘Well …’ he began.
    ‘Not in particular just general,’ an American voice said close to his elbow. Cedric looked up and was confronted by a big man with a beard, forage cap and smiling blue eyes. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Ernest Hemingway in his better days, and the context certainly seemed apt. (Yet another twin perhaps?) He was introduced as Bill Hewson, a painter from Boston. ‘Yes I came here some time back to do a watercolour of the lagoon. Sargent had done it so why shouldn’t I? As it is, I stayed six years and I’m still here.’ He grinned.
    ‘And is the watercolour finished?’
    ‘Nope. Never begun. Too much other stuff to catch the eye. Can’t get enough of it; you should come to my studio some time, the place is full of the garbage.’
    ‘Oh no garbage there I assure you,’ Hope-Landers said, ‘all damn good stuff.’
    Cedric smiled politely and said they would be delighted to pay a visit.
    ‘Weren’t you saying something about Mrs Borgino’s brother,’ Felix asked inquisitively, ‘what’s the difficulty?’
    But he had to wait to find out, for at that moment the door at the far end was pushed open and in came Lucia accompanied by a tall young man with sleeked hair and sunglasses – an addition which, given the greyness of the day, seemed a trifle redundant. Clad in dazzling white Lucia too seemed indifferent to the weather. For a few moments the siblings stood poised on the threshold surveying the room. They were a handsome pair and made a striking tableau. And then with a light laugh and a wave to the barman, Lucia advanced towards their host whom she kissed lavishly.
    ‘Ah, I think you’ve already met Cedric and Felix,’ he began, ‘though we were all in such a rush the other day, didn’t have time to …’
    ‘Have I?’ Lucia threw them a smile of little interest; and then added vaguely, ‘Oh yes, I think I remember, on the bridge wasn’t it?’ She turned to Hewson and exclaimed, ‘Lovely to see you Bill. I took Edward to your spring exhibition last time he was here. He adored it, didn’t you Eddie!’
    ‘Of course,’ her brother said, ‘as I always do. Bill’s pictures are charming – and
so
reassuring. The familiarnever palls; it induces such feelings of confidence.’ He whipped off his sunglasses and gave the older man a challenging grin.
    ‘Confidence in what,’ enquired Cedric who had overheard the comment, ‘your judgement?’
    ‘Sorry? Oh … well in life I imagine.’ The young man shrugged, and turning away called, ‘I say Guy, Lucia said something about some fizz. Any hope? I thought we