The Glassblower of Murano - Marina Fiorato [22]
Nora nodded, incredulous. He handed her a form, covered in his inky scrawl.
`Take this to the Questura - the Police Station - in Castello. It's on the Fondamenta San Lorenzo.You need to get a residency permit and a work permit. This will take a while, but it should help that your father is from the city, and that you were born here.' For now Nora had recounted her history to Adelino. `Meantime get this form franked by them and you can work here while the paperwork is being processed.' He shrugged expressively. `This is Venezia, and she takes her sweet time.'
Nora put down her cup gently on the desk, afraid that any sudden moves would break the spell; that she would wake and find herself back though the Looking Glass again, staring at her reflection in the shop. Adelino caught her eye.
`Understand this. You have a small talent for this work, which may grow But I'm hiring you solely on your name, and my respect for Corradino's art. Try to live up to him.' He rose dismissively. `Be here on Monday at 6am sharp. No lateness, or you'll be fired before you are hired.' He allowed himself a smile at his small witticism, which lightened the asperity of his speech. `Now I must get back to the shop.'
Nora stumbled into the daylight, dizzy with disbelief. She looked at the long low red building that was her new workplace, at the small ranks of red houses by the canal, and the faded street sign on the wall. She stared.
The Fondamenta Manin. Manin Street. The main street of Murano is named for Corradino. For Daniele. For me.
The spires of San Marco spiked in the distance, a tiara of piercing beauty crowning the lagoon. Nora had never seen Venice from such an aspect before. She jumped as high as she could and screamed with joy, and went to join the baffled Germans on the waiting boat.
From his office window, Adelino watched her, and narrowed his eyes meditatively in an unfathomable expression which his late wife would have recognized as a danger sign. His gaze lighted on the same street sign that Nora had just seen. The Fondamenta Manin. The whole place was named for her. Her family is glassblowing, time out of mind. She had talent - talent that would quickly grow. She had the great Corradino on her team. And she was certainly beautiful.
He turned his back on the vista and faced his office and reality. This was not the seventeenth century. No longer did this foundry, or this city, hold the monopoly on glassmaking. Murano and San Marco were crammed with glass factories and gift shops selling gew-gaws and bon-bons of glass, confections for the tourists to take home. Competition for the patronage of the wealthier tourists, those Americans or Japanese who would invest in a larger piece, was fierce. Adelino was forced to make ruinous deals with the more exclusive hotels to run glass tours, and more often than not in these times the tourists would take photos and get back in their boats having ordered nothing from his shop.
He sat down heavily at his desk. His business was in trouble, so why had he just hired a green girl, whom he would have to pay a wage? Why were his fingertips damp with perspiration? Why did his heart quicken? Adelino began to tingle, as the age-old mercantile tides ebbed and flowed in his veins. A lovely girl, a famous genius of an ancestor, and his own struggling glass factory.They all added up to one word; Opportunity. It was one of his favourites.
Four days later, Elinor Martin received a well-wrapped parcel at her Islington home. It was a Venetian glass mirror of great beauty, sprigged with glass flowers so delicate it seemed as if they lived. There was no note. Elinor sat at the kitchen table, looking in the mirror resting on the debris of its wrappings, at her sixty-year-old face. She began to cry, her hot tears splashing the cool glass.
She felt as if somehow, from beyond the grave, the mirror was from Bruno.
CHAPTER 7
The Lion and the Book
The Questura in Castello was an attractive building. Like many municipal offices in Venice, the Police Station had a past life as a palazzo and its former