'Don't,' she said hoarsely. 'Don't do it. Don't marry him, for pity's sake don't marry him.'

The last words were a scream, and suddenly she was sitting up, tortured into wakefulness, tears streaming down her face, and Piero kneeling beside her, his arms about her, trying vainly to offer comfort for a wrong that could never be put right.

For breakfast next morning Piero laid on a feast.

'Where did these come from?' Julia asked, looking at the rolls stuffed with meat.

'From my friend from the restaurant who dropped in last night, the one I told you about.'

'He sounds like a really good friend. Is he one of us?'

'In what sense?'

'You know-stranded.'

'Well, he's got a roof over his head, but you might call him stranded in other ways. He's lost everyone he ever loved.'

Over breakfast she produced some money. 'It's only a little but it might help. You'll know where the bargains are.'

'Splendid. We'll go out together.'

She wrapped up thickly and followed him out into the day. He led her through a labyrinth of tiny calles, until her head was swimming. How could anyone find their way around this place?

Suddenly they were in the open, and the Rialto Bridge reared up over them, straight ahead. She'd been here the night before and gone to frozen sleep at one end, where the shore railings curved towards the water.

She'd come to this place searching for someone…

Now she looked around, but all the faces seemed to converge, making her giddy. And perhaps he had never been here after all.

Venice was bustling with life. Barges made their way through the canals, stopping to seize the bags of rubbish that had been dumped by the water's edge. More barges, filled with supplies, arrived at the open air market at the base of the Rialto.

Piero stocked up with fiendish efficiency, buying more produce with less money than she would have thought possible.