‘You are happy to eat here?’ He indicated a menu propped open amongst a selection of old musical instruments displayed in the window. ‘The owner’s grandfather was a musician before he opened this place after losing an arm in the war.’
‘How awful.’
‘The orchestra’s loss was the city’s gain. He could create far better dishes with one hand than most of his rivals could with two. His son had a talent for both music and cooking and luckily, he chose to continue with this place and his grandson has followed him.’
‘It looks perfect.’
Eraldo pushed open the door. A tall woman in a short-sleeved, black dress covering a prominent baby bump ushered them to a table, leaving them with a couple of menus whilst she went to fetch a bottle of water.
‘She is married to the original owner’s grandson,’ Eraldo explained. ‘Perhaps the child she is carrying will continue the family tradition.’
The woman smiled, obviously catching his meaning. She placed a blue, glass bottle on the wooden table.
‘Some wine, Natalie?’
‘You choose.’ She’d been half-tempted to clear out the hotel mini bar before meeting Phil, but the fear of saying something to Cate that would destroy their tentative truce had prevented her from sampling even a small Peroni.
Eraldo ordered their wine without fuss.
‘I recommend the seafood risotto to start: the house speciality,’ the waitress said.
‘That sounds good; I’ll have that,’ Natalie said.
‘For both of us.’
‘And today’s special.’ The waitress nodded towards the blackboard. ‘It is a fish from the lagoon: very good,’ she added for Natalie’s benefit.
‘Perfect, I’ll have that too.’ Natalie felt her shoulders relax. It was good to sit back and chill whilst someone else made the decisions.
‘The same. A side of polenta too, to share.’
‘How was your day?’ she asked, content to let Eraldo talk until the waitress returned carrying their wine chilling in a bucket. The woman uncorked the bottle with a flourish and poured a little for Eraldo to taste.
‘Perfetto, grazie!’ He turned to Natalie. ‘This will go beautifully with the risotto. They use saffron in that dish. Venice has a long tradition of using exotic spices; it was one of the trades that made the republic rich.’
‘You’re very proud of your city, aren’t you? Why did you choose to go and study in London?’
‘I was young.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Venice seemed small, insignificant compared to London. I imagined it to be the most exciting city in the world.’
‘And was it?’
‘For a while! Especially when I met Floella and her friends. We were one big gang, working hard all week but at weekends – what parties we had! Sometimes, we would all pile into someone’s little car and head for the coast. Brighton – it was not, how you say, an exotic, white-sands beach but it was fun.’
‘You didn’t want to stay?’
‘I missed Venice but when I came back for Christmas one year, I found that many of my friends had moved away to other towns. The population here is declining, forced out by the number of tourists renting properties that would otherwise be people’s homes. The rents for shops are rising, pushing out the Venetian artisans as foreign investors move in. They say one day, there will be no Venetians; the city will be one big theme park: an Italian Disneyland.’
‘That would be terrible.’
‘I did not want to be one of the people who left, abandoning my city to such a fate. I knew then that when I had finished my course, I had to return here. And I do not regret that. How could I, with food like this.’ He laughed.
She scooped up a forkful of the risotto which had just arrived, bringing the scent of the sea to their small table. ‘This is so good.’
‘The secret is cooking the rice just so. Creamy yet the centre of each grain of rice is still firm to the bite.’
‘You look so serious!’
‘Food for Italians is a serious business, especially here. Venice is a marvellous place. I do hope your bad experience in the past has not spoiled it for you. In future, when you think of this city, perhaps you might think not of creepysottopassaggibut of historic eating places and food like this.’
