“Don’t worry. Some stores will be open, won’t they? I’ll buy some picnic supplies for myself.”

She actually patted my hand. “Don’t bother. I have plenty of food here. There is always far too much. You are welcome to help yourself.”

There is no chance of sleeping late on Sunday mornings in Venice. The first church bells start at six o’clock and are followed almost every half hour by the bells of various other churches. Sometimes there are four or five churches at once, so that the city echoes with the sound. I heard my landlady bustling around in the kitchen, talking, as usual to Bruno the cat. I thought I might as well get up, rather than lie in bed doing nothing. I bathed, dressed in my lightest cotton frock, as the day already felt hot and clammy, then went through to the kitchen. I realized the signora had a big day ahead, so I took the liberty of making the coffee and laying out bread, cheeses and jam. She looked absurdly pleased when she returned home to find breakfast waiting for her.

“I hope you didn’t mind,” I said. “I was sure you’d have a lot to do today.”

“I’m grateful,” she said. “I do have baking to do, and the day will be a hot one.” She considered this, then added, “Fortunately, the widow Grevi has offered to make the sarde in saor . You know I do not like the smell of fish in my house.”

I had seen this item on menus and gathered it was fresh sardines cooked with some kind of sauce, but I had yet to try it. Maybe this evening, if I located the signora and her party, I’d be offered some.

We sat and ate breakfast together, then I volunteered to do the washing up while she got out her recipe books and started work. The kitchen smelled enticingly of garlic and onions, then of baking. I left her to it, sitting in my room and polishing some of my sketches. By midday she tapped on my door.

“I’ll be off then,” she said. She was dressed in a flowery silk dress and what was clearly her best hat, looking more outfitted for a wedding than a picnic. “I just saw Signora Bertolini coming out of her house. So I can leave you to lock the door and take a key with you? And I’ve left you food for your own picnic on the kitchen table.”