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It didn’t take long to reach the shops Sophie had noted when they’d first entered the Dorsoduro and she was immediately torn between a textile shop specialising in hand-woven materials and a traditional mask maker. She hadn’t had to dip too far into her carefully hoarded money so far; a few ingredients for the meal she’d cooked Marco, material from a warehouse for her dress and for Bianca’s wedding gift, but she wanted to buy presents for her friends if possible.
‘I have a few errands to run,’ Marco said as she wavered between the two. ‘See you back here in an hour? I know the perfect place for lunch.’ And before she could respond he was gone. Sophie checked her watch. She had just under an hour and streets of tempting little shops to explore; there was no time to waste. With a deep breath and a feeling of impending bankruptcy she opted for the mask shop.
It was like stepping into another world, a world of velvet and lace, of secrecy and whispers, seductive and terrifying in equal measure. Sophie turned slowly, marvelling at the artistry in every detail, her eyes drawn to a half-face cat mask, one side gold, the other a green brocade, sequins highlighting the slanted eye slits and the perfect feline nose. She picked it up and held it against her face, immediately transformed into someone—something—dangerous and unknown. She replaced it with a sigh of longing. The gorgeous carnival masks, all made and painted by hand, were definitely beyond her means and having seen the real thing she didn’t want to waste her money on the cheaper, mass-produced masks displayed on souvenir stalls throughout the city. Likewise she soon realised that the colourful fabrics, still produced on traditional wooden looms, would bankrupt her.
Three quarters of an hour later she was done, choosing beautiful handmade paper journals, one for each of her friends. Turning as she exited the shop, she saw Marco sauntering towards her, a secretive, pleased smile on his face. ‘Done already?’ he asked as he reached her side. ‘I usually have to drag Bianca and Mamma out of these shops kicking and screaming.’
‘I could just look at the colours and the workmanship for hours,’ Sophie admitted. ‘I very nearly came home with a cat mask. But options for wearing such a thing in London are sadly limited. Not that I can imagine actually wearing it. It’s a work of art.’
‘You should see the city at carnivale. It’s not just the masks, the costumes are out of this world—hats, dominoes, elaborate gowns. You would go crazy for the colours and designs. My mother has five different outfits and six different masks, so each year she changes her look completely.’
‘What about you? What do you wear?’
‘I go for the simple black domino and a half-mask, but it’s many years since I’ve been here during carnivale. The city gets a little fevered. It’s easy to get carried away.’
After a light lunch at a pretty café overlooking a narrow back-street canal they explored the rest of the vibrant district, wandering down to the university, visiting churches and museums as they went. The afternoon flew by and it was a surprise when Sophie realised it was late afternoon and their wandering no longer had an aimless quality to it. Marco was walking with intent as they retraced their steps back to the gondola yard they had visited earlier. The gates were closed now, but Marco knocked loudly on the wooden door and almost immediately one large gate swung open. Sophie didn’t recognise the owner at first. He’d changed out of his overalls and into the striped top and straw hat of a gondolier, although, in a nod to the season, he had put a smart black jacket over the top.
‘This way,’ Marco said and steered her towards the jetty. A gondola was moored there, gleaming black in the fading light. Warm velvety throws were placed over the black leather seats, several more were folded on the two stools that provided the only other seating. ‘It gets cold,’ Marco said briefly as he took her hand and helped her step into the gently rocking boat. ‘Welcome aboard, signorina.’
The rug was soft and warm as Sophie wriggled into one of the two main seats, placed side by side along the middle of the long narrow boat. Marco picked up another blanket and draped it across her knees and Sophie folded her hands into the fabric, glad of the extra coverings. Her tights and wool jacket were good enough protection against the chill while she was moving and the sun was out, but, sitting still as the evening began to reach dark fingers along the sky, she was suddenly very aware it was winter. Marco set a basket on the small table in the middle of the seating area before gracefully stepping aboard and taking his seat next to hers. It was a narrow space and she could feel the hard length of his thigh next to hers, his body heat as he slipped an arm around her shoulders and shouted something unintelligible to his friend. The next moment the moorings were untied and the boat began to glide away from the dock, moving smoothly down the canal.
