One Summer in Italy

Chapter 1

1

Natalie studied the photograph: the prow of a gondola just passing under the Rialto Bridge, golden light bathing the Grand Canal. She could almost feel the gentle warmth of a Venetian evening, hear the voices of the jostling crowd. Her trip to Italy had been magical. Until…

A blur of bright colour moved across the glass partition. Floella elbowed open the office door, two takeaway cups balanced in one hand. She dropped a pink and white cardboard box on the desk, bracelets jangling.

‘Admiring my mood board?’

‘Yes, it’s beautiful.’

Floella set down the cups. ‘I’ve brought coffee and doughnuts.’

‘Thanks, Flo. And I’m glad I’ve caught you. I don’t suppose I’ll see you for a while after today, at least not until the new series of Together gets the green light… unless something comes up in the meantime.’ Natalie hoped she sounded casual, not desperate. She loved her job in TV production but being freelance made it hard to plan, let alone pay the bills.

‘Something will turn up for you. Go on, have one of these.’

Natalie opened the cardboard box, releasing a sweet, doughy aroma. Globules of pink frosting clung to the lid’s cellophane panel. She took a doughnut, the sugary coating sticky on her fingers.

‘So, how’s Luxe Life Swap going?’ she said tentatively. The show was Flo-Go Production’s flagship programme. Thousands of loyal fans were looking forward to the series returning but in the fickle world of television, that wasn’t enough to guarantee the additional funding that was critical to the survival of Flo’s small company.

‘Marrakech and Paris are looking good but it’s hard to keep the new locations all hush-hush when some eagle-eyed viewer manages to snap a picture of Mandy Miller halfway up the Eiffel Tower. But now we’ve got a much bigger problem. Mandy’s not going to make it out to Italy.’

‘Oh no! Why? What’s happened?’

Floella stirred her coffee. ‘If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t say, it is rather personal, but you know Mandy, she’s all for talking openly about women’s problems.’

‘She’s ill?’

Floella reached for a doughnut. ‘She’s been suffering with severe endometriosis; poor woman’s been in agony. Her PA met her off the plane from Paris, took one look at her and took her straight to A her husband’s keeping me in the loop. He says she’s been charming all the staff; some of the nurses are quite starstruck. Apparently, she’s been demanding her make-up bag, and wants to film a message for her fans so they hear the news from her first. The doctors have told her to rest but…’ Floella tutted.

‘She’s probably giving an interview on hospital radio as we speak and boning up about Venice.’

Floella waved a hand in the direction of her mood board.

‘We need to talk about that.’ She ran her tongue over her purple lip gloss, catching a couple of errant sugar sprinkles.

‘If there’s anything I can do…’ Natalie reached for her phone and clicked on the Notes app. She felt Floella’s eyes on her. ‘Why are you smiling at me like that?’

Floella began singing a theme tune Natalie hadn’t heard in years. ‘ Panda’s Place – it’s yours and my happy place. White tummy, black paws, Panda’s Place! Remember that show?’

‘How could I forget it? That awful tune! Those dreadful striped dungarees they made me wear! Don’t tell me you’ve been watching it.’

‘Someone’s uploaded the old episodes to YouTube.’

Natalie cringed. Her one and only stint as a television presenter hadn’t worked out quite as she’d hoped.

‘Don’t make that face. The programme was terrible but you were great.’

‘I was okay, I suppose, considering the material.’

‘You were more than okay. That’s why I want you to be the stand-in presenter for Luxe Life Swap’ s Italian leg.’ Floella smirked.

Natalie gasped. Luxe Life Swap was prime-time television, a once-in-a-lifetime chance most people would kill for. And if Floella needed her, she had to help. She’d go anywhere. Anywhere but Venice.

‘No! Come on, Flo, you’re kidding! Surely you want Suzie Silver or Fiona McPhee? I’ve not done any presenting for years.’

‘Suzie and Fiona are great but they’re both tied up. I need someone now. Someone who’s free to jump on a plane tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, I guess that’s tricky.’

‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic, Nat. I thought you’d be leaping up and down. I know you love your job but wasn’t this your dream? I always assumed you’d fallen into production because the right presenting role didn’t come up. And anyway, I’ve already cleared it with my contact at Channel Four.’

‘I love what I’m doing now but you’re right, this was my dream, a long time ago. And it’s a fantastic opportunity – of course it is.’ A brilliant solution popped into her head. ‘Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to do the filming with the Italian couple whilst they’re over in London? Daryl could be the presenter out in Italy. It must be frustrating for him when Mandy gets all the foreign gigs.’

‘Natalie.’ Floella shook her head. ‘Daryl won’t get on a plane. It’s been hard enough to get him to step outside the M25 since he and Craig adopted the twins.’

‘But…’ Natalie began even though she had no idea what she was going to say.

Floella raised her hand. ‘Now stop being so modest.’

‘But Venice…’

‘Yes, Venice – such a wonderful city! Have you ever been?’

‘No… I mean, yes, a long time ago… a school trip.’

‘Then you’ll remember! No one forgets Venice!’ Floella flung her arm towards her mood board. ‘Those magnificent horses on the front of St Mark’s Basilica, dinner-jacketed musicians playing in the piazza, gondolas on the Grand Canal. Imagine! This is your chance to shine! Bettany will get the tickets rebooked in your name, she’ll send through all the information. You know how important this show is. I need you Nat; I know you won’t let me down. And of course there’s a nice fat fee, much better than your hourly rate.’

Natalie forced a smile. ‘I’ll finish up here then get home and dig out my passport.’

‘That’s more like it! Ah, one last thing. Now I’m in your good books, I’ve got a little favour to ask.’ Floella licked some sugar off her fingers. She bent down and rooted in her capacious, leopard-print shopper. ‘I need you to hand-deliver something for me when you get to Venice. It’s for Eraldo, a very good friend of mine.’

Natalie took the small, padded envelope Floella held out. ‘Couldn’t you just post it? I’ll deliver it if you want me to but…’

‘I can’t trust this to the post; it’s far too precious to lose. Eraldo is a watch restorer. These are spare parts for antique watches; they’re incredibly rare. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not, but I shouldn’t really take something through customs for somebody else.’

‘I’m not asking you to smuggle a packet of heroin!’ Floella laughed.

‘Sorry, silly of me. I’m a bit on edge. This presenting job: there’s so much at stake.’

A burst of jazz came from Floella’s bag.

‘I’ll have to take this; it’s that woman from Netflix. She talks so much, I’ll be on this call half the morning. Good luck in Venice, Nat. Don’t worry about anything! You’ll be a star!’

‘Thanks, Flo. I won’t let you down.’

‘Yes, Kathleen… of course, yep, yep.’ Floella headed for the meeting room, phone clasped to her ear.

Natalie gave Eraldo’s envelope a squeeze and slipped it into her bag. She’d go straight home and pack. She’d concentrate on the practicalities, stop her mind creeping back to the past. She would help keep Flo-Go Productions afloat whilst showing the doubters she hadn’t moved into production because she couldn’t hack it in front of the camera. She would get to live her old dream for a week or two before going back to the production role she loved. Floella was right, this was her chance to shine. She had to take it.