All the Rage (16 page)

Agnes, too, expressed disappointment. She was away for three days and their paths would sadly not cross. Another time, they agreed. Ciao.

 

***

 

Kara drew breath, her brain exploding from the fix she was in. Momentarily defeated, she wallowed in self-pity. It was clear that Adele had suspected a possible backlash from loyal staff and anticipated any eventuality that could weaken her position. Adele was clever and very, very smart. Working closely together in the past, Michael's wife would be only too aware of how tidy and methodical Kara could be. This had proved to be her downfall, and Adele moved in for the kill.

All that was left was a damage limitation exercise. Sod this. There was no time for feeling sorry. Working with renewed frenzy, Kara transferred the remaining files and introduced a new password. It was a start. But she knew only too painfully that it was a case of locking the stable door after the horse had bolted. She felt sick in the stomach.

‘Ronald,' she said, finding him in the stockroom. ‘Do you mind if I go home early? I've got a splitting headache. '

‘Not at all, I can easily cope. '

‘You're a star. ' She managed a thin smile. ‘Adele is coming in again. Explain my absence. ' She turned, and then added, ‘Tell her my office is locked. If she wants privacy, she can always use the downstairs loo. Oh, I almost forgot. There's a leak in the cistern, but she'll know all about that sort of thing. '

Ronald kindly escorted her to the main entrance. ‘Take good care of yourself. Get plenty of rest. '

She smiled once again. ‘I'd better speak to Marcus, assuming he's still prepared to speak to me. '

‘That would be an excellent idea. He's a fine young man, much misunderstood. '

Kara kissed Ronald affectionately. ‘You're right, on both accounts. Marcus is wonderful and I don't deserve him. I'll see him tonight and then get plenty of rest. '

Ronald sighed, ‘Marcus…and rest? I doubt that will be the case. '

 

***

 

At precisely 4pm, a young woman of breath-taking beauty walked along the narrow alleyway, across a small bridge and settled on one of the chairs outside a bar beside the sun-drenched canal. On the table she placed a magazine and her knapsack, and soon entered into idle chitchat with the clearly besotted elderly waiter who stood beside her. They spoke with friendly familiarity. After a while, the waiter returned with a chilled glass of white wine, accompanied by a plate of warm entrees.

Michael waited patiently, opposite the bar, watching her silently from the shadows. He too had bought a magazine and, biding his time, slowly ambled toward the Cantina Do Spade, choosing a table outside, in the sunshine, next to a girl in a white linen floral dress.

Soon, they were joined by others, mainly tourists, meeting for drinks. It was an idyllic scene, a crowded bar surrounded by pink encrusted buildings, faded green shutters, freshly washed sheets crisscrossing on wire between the narrow buildings, and a shimmering light that sparkled and danced on the canal water.

Michael ordered a glass of fine house champagne and gelato al forna. He knew it would do the job of catching her attention. When the waiter returned with his order, the girl at the next table raised her eyebrows.

‘I like your style,' she said admiringly. Her startling green eyes flashed in the sunlight. Although she had heard his voice when ordering, she asked politely, ‘Are you English? '

Michael raised his glass in courteous acknowledgement.

‘Beautiful day, beautiful view,' he said appreciatively, catching her attention still further with his disarming remark.

She smiled and remained silent, though she seemed to be amused by the banter.

Michael was the first to speak again.

‘I believe the notorious Casanova used to visit this establishment.'

She closed her magazine. ‘He did,' she concurred, ‘not only that, there is a secret door inside the building from where he would plan his escape, if the situation demanded it. I suspect he used it many times. '

He devoured his dessert and laughed at her last comment.

‘Are you an historical student? ' he asked.

‘I was born in Venice, and so I'm well versed in the great traditions of the city. '

‘A truly wonderful heritage,' he agreed. ‘Think of the great poets, musicians and artists who made this their home or place of rest. Byron, Wagner, Proust. The list is endless. '

‘You're well informed. Are you here on business? '

‘Yes. '

‘And how long are you staying for? '

‘Two days. Perhaps three…it depends upon what distracts me. '

The girl stood, caught his mischievous remark, and shook his hand warmly. ‘Have a delightful few days. It was very nice to meet you. '

Michael also stood. ‘My pleasure. '

He remained hawkeyed as she slowly disappeared over the bridge and out of sight. A strong feeling of elation erupted in him. Bull's eye: the first contact with Antonia. It went exactly as he had hoped. The next day he would return at 4pm to this exact spot.

 

***

 

Kara was shattered. The anonymous document addressed to Michael continued to unsettle her deeply. It simply wouldn't evaporate from her thoughts. It crushed her spirit. On the flip side, he seemed unperturbed. Now he was in Venice, pursuing a mad notion of finding someone who could, in fact, be anywhere in the entire world. What was her boss playing at? It was beginning to drive her crazy, trying to work out his motives.

This brought her neatly to another madman, Marcus; and their helter- skelter relationship that somehow survived in spite of itself. He was an absolute adorable lunatic. She couldn't wait to see him. Luckily, the headache was slowly diminishing and he was on his way over to her flat.

Dealing with men was so bloody hard. Coming off the phone from a conversation with Michael, in which he badly explained his odd logic in visiting Venice, she was at the point of exhaustion. How on earth was she going to explain to him the bizarre action of Adele stealing files? It smacked of James Bond. At every turn, a seemingly calculated set of unexplainable circumstances was conspiring against her, and what sheperceived as normal life. She longed for normality. What was going on?

Thankfully, Marcus,
adorable Marcus
, was in forgiving mood. Men did have their uses, she concluded. He came over and cooked a comforting meal and listened to her tale of woe. He had the patience of a saint. Kara considered the two men in her life. One soothed her; the other drove her to distraction. Thinking about it, she didn't know which description fitted which man, such was her confusion.

When she and Marcus eventually went to bed, Ronald's earlier assumption was proved wrong. She collapsed into an instant deep sleep. All night: her dreams undisturbed by her boyfriend.

 

***

 

Much earlier, Michael had finished his champagne and followed Antonia at a discreet distance. She walked briskly through the back alleys, stopping once to buy long-stemmed magenta flowers from a florist. Over the Rialto Bridge, she made her way along the Salizzada S Giovanni Crisostomo until she came to a halt in front of an undistinguished weathered wooden door, next to a wine merchant's shop. He watched as she vanished inside. On entering a few moments later, he could just make out the sound of a child's laughter from somewhere high above the spiral staircase. He then retreated quietly.

Within minutes, he walked to a small unpretentious trattoria by way of a bridge over the narrow canal, and ordered a light snack and a glass of local red wine. From here, he had a vantage point virtually opposite to the apartment where Antonia lived. He had phoned Kara earlier, and his recollection of their rather stilted chat was not good. He consoled himself with a refill of wine. He began to worry that she was not coping. More wine was required, that would do the job of quelling his anxiety. Eventually, he grew fatigued. It was nearly ten o'clock. There had been no comings-and-goings from the building opposite. He was deadbeat. In the morning, he would rise early and return.

 

***

 

Breakfast heralded the dawn. He felt refreshed and invigorated, especially sitting atop the Danieli Hotel on the grand rooftop terrace overlooking the majestic sweep of the lagoon far below. A thin haze descended, bathing the city and its colourful inhabitants in a rich golden glow. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he marvelled at the imposing dome of St. George, opposite his perfect panoramic viewpoint. Below, the first gondolas of the day set forth on the shimmering water.

According to Agnes, the girl known as Antonia left her home each morning at 8. 15am for the short stroll to a pier and then the water ride on the Vaporetto. Sure enough, on his return to the apartment building, he watched as she came into view accompanied by a young child and elderly woman. They all hugged and blew kisses, until, reluctantly, the younger woman broke free from the embrace and made her way down the cobbled street.

Michael followed.

 

***

 

When Kara awoke, Marcus was gone. This was unusual considering his normal lazy morning
ritual of sleeping in until lunchtime. No note either. Not even a whisper of undying love. She would catch him later. Boy, was he in trouble.

Feeling so much better, she bathed quickly, dressed, and ate a bowl of mixed fruit, washed down by iced water. She was ready for the day. So much so, she took a taxi to work, arriving before the ever punctual Ronald. One thing she was sure of, nobody was going to mess with her today.

Then her heart sank. On entering the gallery, her eyes affixed upon a brown padded envelope on the floor. It was addressed to Michael Strange. There was no trace of a postmark.

 

***

 

Michael listened with increasing anxiety to the hysterical and incoherent rant.

‘Kara, calm down, calm down,' he pleaded.

She was having none of it. ‘Michael, you – we – are being harassed! Stalked, for God's sake! Aren't you frightened? '

‘Yes, of course I am. ' He tried to picture her, sobbing on the other end of the phone. ‘Listen to me. What does the envelope contain? '

‘You want me to open it? '

‘Yes, now. '

‘Are you
sure
? '

‘Do it, Kara. '

He waited for what seemed an eternity. ‘Well? '

‘It's a DVD. '

‘Okay, okay. At least it's not a bomb. ' Instantly, he regretted the flippant comment.

‘Michael…Jesus, that's
not
funny! '

‘Right. ' He tried to keep control of the situation. ‘Open the gallery as normal. When Ronald comes in, go to my office, close the door and watch the DVD. Then ring me back. '

He didn't give her chance to protest. He clicked his mobile phone off.

 

***

 

Kara didn't normally bite her fingernails. Nor did she drink scotch so early in the morning. Fuck it. Alone in his office, she did what she was instructed to do, except for the additional support of the alcohol. Slowly, she inserted the DVD into the TV box, pressed play, sat back and felt physically sick in the stomach. The grainy images came into focus.

The screen showed a media reporting shoot for RTE Television. The text headline read: DUBLIN, 6 O'CLOCK NEWS. OUTSIDE ON THE STEPS OF THE HIGH COURT: MONDAY 23
rd
FEBRUARY, 1979. VERDICT ANNOUNCED.

The immediate picture was of two women on the steps, surrounded by a bank of cameramen, all jostling for position. Camera bulbs flashed. One of the women, on the left, held a microphone. She was talking directly to the TV screen.

‘This is reporter Ann O'Brien speaking to Head Teacher, Brenda Connor, who attended the last day of this explosive criminal trial case. Miss Connor (turning towards her), I believe you knew all the members of the family involved. What can you tell us about this final outcome? '

Above the din, the other woman replied loudly.

‘I am deeply shocked by the revelations and fresh evidence which came out during the long trial. Frankly, my colleagues and I are outraged. It is a dreadful indictment that we, as a society, are so unaware of what really goes on behind closed doors. My heart goes out to anyone who is subjected to habitual physical abuse. It amounts to torture in your own home. We are all victims in cases like this. People, particularly young and vulnerable teenagers, should be protected. '

‘A guilty verdict. Are you surprised? '

‘Yes. Yes I am. I'm appalled, quite frankly. '

‘I believe you in fact taught the assailant. '

‘Yes. '

‘Were there any signs of violence that you became suspicious of, given the fearful testimonies described over the past few days? Any comment? '