continued to press ahead. I glanced at the stalls – there were fruits of all shades and shapes on display, mounds of spices that looked like vivid dust that could blow away in the wind. I inhaled their pungency and tasted them deep in my throat. A man dressed in a turban and shiny robes beckoned us to try the liquid in his bizarrely shaped vials. Perfumes mixed in a wild infusion and I tried to catch the different odours and place them. My head spun and my heart soared. I wanted to drink this moment in, sup on this melange of wonders.
As we continued, a juggler appeared out of nowhere, flinging flaming torches into the air. The crowd gasped before breaking into applause as he first spun them so quickly they formed a circle of light and then caught them, one by one, dousing the flames.
I was still trying to see what he would do next when I was steered into a nearby series of rami, up some wooden stairs and then whisked across a bridge. On the other side of the Circolo, the noise and number of people diminished and then completely vanished. We wandered briskly along the empty fondamenta and I wondered where we were going. I looked at the signs hanging over the shops and recognised the insignia of the tailor – the golden thread, reel and scissors. We had crossed into the Tailors Quartiere.
We turned off the main canal and into a dark ramo. Light did not reach this narrow lane. Giaconda drew to a halt before an unremarkable shop. Its window was streaked with grime, making it hard to see inside. A cat snaked past the door, rubbing its scrawny body along the wood, yawning as it did and revealing its sharp little teeth.
Before Salzi could reach the door, it was flung open, and standing there was the strangest man. Dressed in a light-coloured togati, which in itself was unusual, he wore a yellow cap upon his head. The sleeves of his shirt were the same mustard colour, only the cuffs were stuck full of pins and an assortment of ribbons. He was as short as he was wide, barely reaching my elbows. He had deeply hooded eyes and a nose that resembled a beak – it was long and very narrow. I wondered if he had to inhale harder than most in order simply to breathe.
‘Buon giorno! Signorina Maleovelli, how wonderful it is to see you!’ His voice belied his looks. It was resonant and thickly accented. There was something hypnotic about it. ‘Come in, come in!’ He bowed so low, his large but slender hands scraped the floor which, I noted as I lifted my skirt and stepped over the threshold, was scrupulously clean.
Only Giaconda and I entered the premises. The others waited outside, which was just as well, because the interior was cramped. I dropped my dress and looked around. In every direction there were yards of fabric, stacked in bales, rolls and simply hanging in lengths across every wall and surface. It was like a chest of soft jewels – dazzling. This was also because the shop was illuminated by dozens of candles, good-quality ones that exuded no smoke or odour. Positioned so as not to pose a danger to the materials and sitting in long, silver holders that had wax catchers at the base, they added grandeur to the place that I would not have assumed from its exterior.
‘I received your message, Signorina, and I have what you requested.’ He bowed again. ‘Is this the lady in question?’ He tipped his head at me quizzically.
‘Sì, Signor Tedeschi. This is my father’s ward, Tarlo Maleovelli. The cloth I asked you to procure is for a dress I want you to make in order that we can formally introduce her to society.’
The old man bowed again and nodded vigorously. ‘A dress? Sì, sì.’ He looked me up and down. ‘I can see why you have gone to such expense, shall I say, taken such a risk. She is worth it, no? What a lovely shape, what fine bones.’
Giaconda did not answer; she simply inclined her head slightly.
I continued to gaze around the shop, looking at the sumptuous material, trying to pretend that Signor Tedeschi’s scrutiny didn’t bother me. I recognised velvet, silk, wool, damask with its heavy patterns – all expensive textiles. One aspect of my education had not been wasted.
‘Well, Signor Tedeschi, where is it? We do not have time