‘Let go!’ She tried to pull away from him.
He cupped his other hand under her chin, twisting her head, shoving her up against the rough wall.
‘Stop! No!’
He clamped his hand over her mouth; she tried to bite his palm, her attempts feeble. He pressed his body up against her, the hard beak of the papier mâché mask pushed against the side of her cheek, minty-chewing-gum breath in her face. His hand lifted the hem of her dress, probing fingers working their way up her thigh. She writhed and struggled but he was too strong.
A dog barked once. Barked twice, louder. Footsteps in the alleyway.
Out of one eye, she could see a big man with a shaved head, a pointy-nosed white bulldog trotting by his side, approaching from the other end of the narrow passage.
Her attacker must have spotted him too. He loosened his grip slightly, stroking Natalie’s hair with one hand, perhaps to give the man the impression they were two young lovers, overcome by passion on a magical, Venetian night.
The man drew level, his inquisitive dog pausing to sniff at the boy’s trainers. The boy froze, his hands dropped to his side. She had seconds to act. She shoved him in the chest as hard as she could. Surprised, he stumbled backwards. The dog yelped in pain.
The man swore loudly, grabbing hold of the boy and shouting right in his face. Natalie ducked around them, out the way the man had come in. A small bridge at the end of the passageway led over a narrow canal. She was up and over it in a trice, running as fast as her feet would carry her. Running and running, her breath loud and fast, heart hammering at her chest. A dead end forced her down anothersottopassaggio. Emerging on the other side, all was quiet. Neither the boy nor the man nor the dog had followed her.
She took out her phone; the battery was dead but her fingers caught the edge of something tucked into its leatherette case. An unused vaporetto ticket. A sign high on the wall pointed the way to the Rialto Bridge; she clasped her hands together in thanks. A few stops along the canal and she’d be back at the hostel. The masked ball would be over, the girls getting ready for bed. She no longer cared what Cathy had said or done; she just wanted to tell her what had happened. They’d hug and make up. They’d be best friends again.
* * *
Natalie pressed the buzzer. The night porter barely glanced up from his copy ofLa Gazzetta dello Sport.Not bothering to wait for the lift, she climbed the three flights of stairs. The corridor was dark but strips of light glowed beneath the doors of the girls’ two dormitories. She hesitated outside the small room that her teachers shared. Had they noticed she was missing? Were they waiting up for her to come back? She pressed her ear to the door. No sound, no light shining through the lock. She let out a breath. Miss Morrison sleeping soundly was some comfort. Natalie couldn’t bear to think of her favourite teacher’s shocked face and her guilt – for she knew Miss Morrison would blame herself.
Quietly, she pressed her room key to the dormitory’s door; it opened with a click. All eyes turned towards her.
‘Where the heck have you been?’ Julie Paine looked Natalie up and down as if inspecting her for clues.
‘Sit down.’ Shy Kelly patted the end of her bed and budged over a bit. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble; Tall Polly told Mrs Nickson you’d got your time of the month and gone off to bed with a bad stomach. What’s happened? You look all upset.’
Natalie couldn’t hold it together any longer. She burst into noisy, gulping tears. Kelly handed her a tissue. She took it gratefully, even though it was none too clean and covered in lip-gloss prints.
‘What happened?’ Julie demanded.
Natalie sniffed. She didn’t want to tell the whole room but if she confided in one person, everyone would know soon enough anyway.
‘I… I went for a walk… I was, umm, hot so I went outside. I walked to St Mark’s Square then I sort of got lost and this boy, one of those boys from the posh school, he was following me. He spoke to me and he grabbed my hand…’
‘Yeah, right!’ Julie sneered.
‘Yeah, those boys aren’t interested in us,’ Tall Polly said. ‘That blond one wasn’t even interested in Julie.’
‘Shut up.’ Julie threw Polly such a death stare, Natalie was surprised she didn’t spontaneously combust.
‘It wasn’t like that; it wasn’t cos he liked me. He wouldn’t let go; he took me down an alleyway. He pushed me up against the wall. He tried… he tried…’ Natalie curled up in a ball, sobbing.
Julie yawned. ‘You’re such a big, fat liar, Nat. You went for a boring old walk by yourself and now you’re trying to make it sound like some big drama.’
Natalie shot upright. ‘I’m not lying. Why would I?’
‘You’re always looking for attention. Look at the way you hang around Miss Morrison, trying to come out with clever comments.’
‘I just like her. So what?’ Natalie wiped her eyes. ‘I’m not lying. Everyone else believes me. Cathy believes me, don’t you?’
‘You always have to be the centre of attention,’ Cathy mumbled, fiddling with her lank fringe. ‘You’re just making it up. Who goes for a walk when there’s a party on? It’s just boring, isn’t it?’ She glanced at Julie for approval.
‘Maybe I didn’t just go for a walk. Maybe I went to visit your mum.’ The words were out of Natalie’s mouth before she could stop them.
Cathy started. ‘What do you mean?’
