The Glassblower of Murano - Marina Fiorato [34]
Leonora smiled. `No, no, I drink. A lot. Well, not a lot. But I do like my wine.!
'Good: He grinned. `Due ombre, per favore.' This to the waiter who hovered at his shoulder.
`What's an ombra?'
Officer Bardolino grinned again. `A shadow.'
`I know what it means. But what is it when it's a drink?'
`Don't worry. It's just a little cup of house wine. The name is centuries old. There used to be wine carts in San Marco in medieval days, and the wine merchants would slowly move the carts all day to stay in the shadow of the Campanile. To keep the wine cool.'
The waiter set down the cups on the dark wood board. Leonora tasted the wine and felt that its flavours were enhanced by the story. `I love tales like that. But I've not been able to read a guidebook since I got here. It's almost like I'm too busy seeing, and living, to read.'
Her companion nodded. `You are right. Better to find these things out as you go, from those that live here. Guidebooks are full of soundbites.'
She smiled to hear his opinions chiming with her own. `Tell me more about this place.'
He returned the smile. `In a soundbite? Casanova used to drink here.!
'Is that why you brought me here?'
I shouldn't have said that. How presumptuous and ... clumsy. I'm behaving like a schoolgirl.
`You thought that was a line,' he said, with a perception which surprised her. `I actually brought you here because of the glass.' He indicated the mirror. `It is unique. This double-looking glass is famous because it was the largest mirror made of its time in which the panes are perfect twins. I thought it might interest you, as you work on Murano'
I've misjudged him. Have I ruined the day by being flippant? Should I tell him about Corradino?
'Officer ...'
`Please, for God's sake, call me Alessandro: The humour was back, thankfully.
`I love it here, thank you.'
He smiled again, then resumed his businesslike mask. `Did your fornace fill in the counterfoil of your form for you?'
`Yes.' Adelino had obliged again.
`Then bring it by next week and we should be able to wrap up this work permit. Then if you get a flat too, you can get your permesso di soggiorno.' He waved away her thanks.
After a pause, Leonora spoke. `Can I ask you a question?'
He nodded.
`It seemed to take you less time than the others. How come?'
Alessandro stretched. `I detest paperwork, so my only solution is to cut through it as quickly as possible. My colleagues - they hate paperwork too, but their solution is to bury it with more paper, to hope that it goes away. See,' he dug out some papers from his pocket; `more efficiency.' He spread the papers on the table for her. She could see they had photocopied pictures of houses and details below, much like the information from an estate agent. `My cousin, Marta, has given me the keys to these four. We'll go and see, and if you like any, you can move in tonight!
'Tonight?'
`You are surprised?'
Leonora shook her head, bemused.
`It's just that I've been trying to see apartments for a month and there have always been delays, or problems, or paperwork ...' This extraordinary man seemed to cut through all of Venice's sedentary rhythms.
`Ah, that's what comes of knowing a local.' Alessandro smiled. `Here's the one I think you should see first. It's quite close to here.' He pointed to one of the four, two rooms in a beautiful three storey house. She followed Alessandro's finger.The address was printed clearly - Campo Manin.
It was a top floor flat in a large, shabby, once-grand house. Though modern in all other respects, she was intrigued on entry by the original staircase that formed the axis for all the apartments, now with ugly modern fire doors. It was grand and beautifully worked. Leonora put out a hand and touched the flaking, turquoise paint. When it and the gilt was new, did family portraits stare down from these walls, to watch the servants and masters mount and descend? As if catching an echo she said, `Corradino?'
Alessandro was struggling with the latch of apartment 3C. `What?'
`Nothing.' It was