She glanced up at him. ‘Of course I understand. Maybe once the busy summer season’s over you might be able to get away.’
‘Absolutely. And maybe you might be able to get a week or two off at some point?’
‘I’ll make sure I do.’
They lapsed into silence for some minutes after that, each alone with their thoughts. For her part, Emma was already feeling the gnawing regret that she knew would be with her for a long time to come. She had been faced with the choice and, just like he said he had done years earlier, she had chosen her career over her heart. Yes, she would make sure she saw him for a few weeks each year, but she had no illusions as to the precarious nature of long-distance relationships. Sooner or later he would find someone else and that would be that. She set down her empty cup and wrapped her arms around his body, clinging to him tightly, trying hard to memorise everything about this magical moment that might never be repeated.
Finally, around seven o’clock, as the sun was beginning to drop towards the horizon, they roused themselves and went down to meet up with the other two. Emma wanted to visit St Mark’s Square, but first she had to find the location for the final scene of the movie. They walked out of the hotel onto the quayside and Rich demonstrated that he had also been thinking about this.
‘All the way down the Grand Canal I was looking for suitable places, but it’s all so damn crowded here.’
‘When do you reckon you’ll be shooting the film?’ Mark was staring at the throng of humanity all around them. ‘Presumably there must be a time when it’s not as crowded as this.’
‘I believe shooting’s scheduled to start in early October. That’s an unusually quick turnaround. As I told you, there’s a lot riding on this movie.’ Emma knew it would also depend upon other commitments at JMGP and how soon they could get all the filming permits in place.
‘I’ve been here in the autumn and it was a bit quieter than this.’ Marina shrugged her shoulders. ‘With kids back at school, there were fewer people, but this part of Venice is always busy.’
Emma made a quick decision. ‘Then we’ve got to look in a different area. Any ideas?’
Mark reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a map of Venice and consulted it. ‘It looks to me as though all the big sights are off to the right of us. Why don’t we go the other way?’ He pointed along the quayside to the left and Emma’s eyes followed his fingers. ‘If you look way down there, there are progressively fewer and fewer people. Maybe we can find somewhere suitable in that direction.’
Together they set off along the quayside, the water level barely a couple of feet below where they were walking. Emma remembered the awful stories of floods here in Venice that regularly overwhelmed streets, squares, homes, shops and priceless architectural gems. There was no doubt about it – in this era of global warming and climate change, this wonderful city was living on borrowed time.
As they got further away from the centre so, as Mark had predicted, the crowds began to thin and before long they found themselves on a wide quay called the Riva dei Sette Martiri, the Quay of the Seven Martyrs. There were remarkably few tourists to be seen here, and they soon located mooring posts and a set of old stone steps leading down into the water, right opposite a charming old rose-pink palazzo. As an added bonus, the building looked all shut up and there were no modern clothes lines or TV aerials to be seen. Best of all, looking back the way they had come, there was a spectacular view up the Grand Canal with a host of unmistakable cupolas, towers and palaces that just screamed ‘Venice’.
Emma was well pleased. ‘Brilliant choice, guys. This should do perfectly.’ She and Rich took a number of shots and she could well imagine Emily and Robert’s tearful farewell taking place here. Marina tugged her sleeve.
‘Can I ask? How does it end? Couldn’t it have a happy ending?’
Emma shook her head sadly. ‘I’m afraid not. It’s a real tear-jerker at the end as these two lovers are torn apart by war – just like so many millions of couples were in real life. They stand on this quay and kiss goodbye, knowing in their hearts that it’s probably the very last time they’ll see each other.’ She kept her tone studiously level, although she knew that tomorrow morning she and Mark would find themselves in almost the same situation, give or take a brief holiday now and then.
Once they had taken all the photos they needed, they circled back through a maze of lanes and alleys, crossing little humpback bridges over narrow side canals, until they came upon the bulk of St Mark’s Basilica ahead of them. As they did so, the crowds began to thicken once more, and by the time they emerged onto the long expanse of St Mark’s Square, they found themselves surrounded by a mass of people. It didn’t completely spoil the overall experience of this unique historic city, but it definitely made it less romantic – constantly having to change direction to avoid porters with trolleys, families with children, and large groups of many different nationalities on guided tours. Some of the guides even had their own amplifiers and loudspeakers strung around their necks and the noise just added to the chaotic feel of the place.
In spite of the crowds, they managed to find a table outside one of the cafes and sat down for a drink. A number of people around them were drinking a bright orange concoction that Emma knew as an Aperol Spritz. This was a mixture of white wine, soda water and Italian Aperol liqueur and she decided to follow suit, although she knew from experience that it could be very sweet. Fortunately, the Venetian version was unexpectedly refreshing, which was just as well as, after the hazy morning, the sky was once more clear and the residual heat of the sun was still radiating up from the flagstones at their feet, even though they were now sitting in shade.
Emma and Rich spent twenty minutes going over all the places they had visited and she got him to send her a number of his best photos to add to her report. She had been composing this each day as they went along and her original intention had been to complete it here in Venice today, but she knew that wasn’t how she wanted to spend her last night with Mark. At least, it would hopefully give her something to do on the flight back to LA, rather than think longingly of the man she had left behind.
From there they walked through narrow lanes crowded with tourists, sometimes even having to take refuge in doorways as large groups pushed past, until they were almost back at the Rialto Bridge. Here, right alongside the Grand Canal, they found the restaurant, l’Antica Trattoria. Marina had got her boss to pull weight and he had managed to get them a table outside, underneath the awning, right on the side of the canal from where they had an uninterrupted view of the gondolas, vaporetti and other boats going up and down. It was a spectacular place for their last dinner together. Rather than dwell on the fact that tomorrow both she and Marina would be separated from their men, Emma did her best to keep their minds on the events of the movie.
‘This restaurant will be amazing for Emily and Robert’s last meal together. Yet another triumph, Marina.’
Marina blushed as the others joined in with applause. ‘I just hope Dreaming of Italy becomes the success you’re all hoping for.’ She reached for Rich’s hand. ‘Will you invite me to the premiere?’
‘I’ll walk you down the red carpet, I promise.’