Caroline took them back. It seemed hopeless. In her room she turned the keys over in her own hand. What did Aunt Lettie want her to do with them? Find out which door the big key would fit, when it might belong to any house in the city? Did it actually come from Venice? Why would Aunt Lettie have needed to open any door apart from the pensione where she stayed? And why was Venice so special to her?

“You are so annoying, Aunt Lettie,” Caroline said out loud. “If you wanted me to do something here, why didn’t you just write me a note? But if these things weren’t special to you, why keep them in their own little box?”

None of it made sense. But she realized one thing: at least she had not been eaten up with worry about Teddy for a little while. Maybe that was what her great-aunt wanted.

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12

Caroline, Venice, October 9, 2001

The next morning dawned clear and bright, and bells awoke Caroline at first light. She opened the shutters and stood at the window, taking in the traffic on the Grand Canal, the pigeons strutting importantly across the garden. A gardener was raking the gravel into neat circles. Across the small side canal, someone was putting out bedding to air on a windowsill. Caroline gave a sigh of contentment, feeling the weeks of pent-up tension easing away. She showered and went down to breakfast.

“I should serve in the garden, signora?” the waiter asked. “It is maybe too cold?”

But Caroline chose to sit outside, enjoying a buffet of fresh fruits, cheeses, hard-boiled eggs, meats, yoghurt and freshly baked brioche. Then she put the two sketchbooks into her tote, along with the box of keys and a map of the city she had picked up at the tourist office, and set out, not exactly sure where she should be going. Clearly most of the important monuments were on the other side of the canal, and she crossed the Accademia Bridge, finding herself a little breathless by the time she negotiated all the steps up and then down. When she reached a piazza on the other side, she gave a little gasp of delight. Here was one of the first sketches, exactly as Aunt Lettie had drawn it in 1928. She continued, hoping she was making for St Mark’s Square. From the map, she saw there was no direct route. She studied the front doors, then gave up, realizing that almost every house had an imposing door knocker and a lock that her key might well fit. I can hardly go up and try all the doors I pass, she thought, and besides, how could Aunt Lettie have needed the key to one of these houses?