“Oh, it’s beautiful” was all I could say.

Leo beamed as if he had arranged it for my benefit. “I thought you’d like it. My favourite view of the city,” he said. “You don’t mind to sit outside?”

“No, It’s perfect.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene. A waiter pulled out a chair for me at a front table, and I sat. A menu was opened for me. I glanced up at Leo. “I’ll let you choose,” I said. “I’m afraid my experience of Italian cuisine is limited to spaghetti.”

He nodded and spoke in rapid Italian to the waiter, who retreated with a little bow.

“We shall start with a Campari, and some olives and bread,” he said. “To prepare the palate. And I believe when one is in Venice, one should eat from the sea. Is that all right with you?”

“As long as it’s not the fritto misto that made my aunt ill,” I replied.

He chuckled. “I can assure you that any fritto misto here would be better than the one that poisoned your aunt. But no, we shall not dine on fritto misto tonight. For our first course, I have ordered a marinated octopus, a puree of red prawns, and scallops. Also a plate of foie gras, because they do it so well here.”

The Campari arrived. I tried not to react with surprise at the bitterness. Leo was smiling at me.

“You haven’t changed at all,” he said.

“Oh, I think I have,” I replied.

“Well, maybe your eyes are a little wiser, and a little sadder, maybe?”

“Life doesn’t always go in the direction we expect it to.”

“But you were going to art academy. You were excited about it. Did you not go? Why are you not a famous artist, but teaching schoolgirls?”

“I did do my first year there,” I said. “It was wonderful. Everything I had hoped for. But my father invested all his and my aunt’s money, then lost it all in the Great Crash of ’29. He had been in poor health, as I think I told you, since he was gassed in the trenches, and this was too much for him. He caught pneumonia and died soon after. I had to leave college and find a job to support my mother and little sister. I was lucky to be hired as an art mistress at a girls’ school near our house. Mummy knew the headmistress from church. So I’ve been teaching art ever since. The pay isn’t particularly good, but it’s enough to keep our heads above water.”

“What water is this?” He looked confused again.

I laughed. “Another silly English idiom. It means to survive, but only just. And anyway, I’ve been learning Italian in my spare time. Ora posso parlare un po’ di italiano.”

He beamed at me. “Molto bene! That means you must have meant to come back here if you took the trouble to study my language.” He said the words in Italian.