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Rialto Bridge

My Policeman

Rialto Bridge is both a landmark in Marion Taylor’s imagined account of Tom Burgess and Patrick Hazlewood’s Venice holiday and the setting for a remembered gesture of intimacy. In her telling, it shifts from a likely stop on a tourist itinerary to a crowded public space where the two men can walk together without attracting notice.

An anticipated stop on the itinerary

Before Tom and Patrick left for Venice in mid-August, Tom had borrowed a guidebook to Italy from the library. He told Marion that he did not know where Patrick would be staying or what they would do there, and suggested he might wander alone while Patrick worked. Marion, familiar with Patrick’s knowledge of the city, did not believe the pair would spend the day apart. Reading the Venice section, she imagined Patrick taking Tom around the major sights, with a photograph of Tom on Rialto Bridge among the likely stops. In this imagined itinerary, the bridge belongs to the recognizable sequence of tourist experiences Patrick could show his companion.

A remembered passage through the crowds

Marion’s later account places Rialto Bridge within a different kind of day. In Venice, Patrick and Tom spent mornings in bed, ate long lunches on the hotel terrace, and walked through the city. As they crossed the crowded bridge, Marion recalls that nobody glanced their way, even as she took Tom’s arm and guided him through the tourists. The bridge is not described as a private refuge: it is a busy public thoroughfare. Its significance lies in the ease with which the couple can move through that public space together without drawing attention.

From imagined sight to lived freedom

The guidebook version of Rialto Bridge anticipates a photograph, a composed keepsake of a visit. Marion’s recollection instead centers on touch and movement: she leads Tom by the arm through the crowds. That contrast gives the location a quiet narrative reversal. What she first pictured as one item in a sightseeing schedule becomes part of the men’s experience of what Marion calls delicious freedom in Venice, where their closeness can be visible without provoking a response from passersby.