To the Wedding

31

The signalman was waiting on the quayside at Chioggia when the motonave arrived. Jean Ferrero and Zdena Holecek spotted each other before the ship was tied up, but they didn’t wave. She came down the gangplank and walked across the paving stones to where he was standing beside his bike, by a white bridge which is like the Bridge of Sighs in Venice, except that it is not roofed. He has taken off his helmet.

They look into one another’s eyes and, seeing the same pain, fall forward into each other’s arms.

Jean! And her voice, so helplessly expressive, carries his name across an entire continent.

Zdena! he whispers.

On the bike, as they drive along the road to Gomacchio, their sorrow becomes a little lighter. Like any pilot with a passenger behind, he feels her weight inclined against his back. Like any pillion, she has placed her life in his hands, and this somehow relieves the pain a little.

I turn and I turn and I can see it in the mirror. It’ll take your breath away, my wedding dress!