Chapter 30
30
The director stood by the chaise longue. ‘Three, two, one.’
Cate and Phil clinked glasses on cue. Tiny bubbles rose to the surface of their drinks, sparkling in the soft light from the antique wall sconces.
The Prosecco bottle stood on a low, glass-topped coffee table with lion’s paws for feet, its label turned towards the camera. The exclusive vineyard, located just a few kilometres north of where they were sitting, had paid handsomely for the subtle product placement.
‘To our new Venetian adventure,’ Cate said. Her face was painstakingly made up, her pink dress chosen to contrast prettily with the room’s red hues, a diamond necklace nestled in her gently tanned cleavage. She was no longer the grim-faced, angry individual who’d stormed off that afternoon.
Phil gazed adoringly at his wife. ‘Our new adventure and all our other adventures to come.’
Cate smiled. None but the most discerning viewer would spot the slight stiffness around her jaw.
‘Well done! That is the end of our filming for tonight,’ Lucia said. ‘We have an early start tomorrow morning. The most prestigious glass factory on Murano will be giving you a private demonstration of glass blowing.’
‘How early?’ Phil put the back of his hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn.
Lucia opened the folder she clutched to her chest like a newborn baby. ‘A private water taxi will collect you at six thirty. That is why I have arranged for the count’s personal cook to create a meal for the two of you here tonight. It will be less tiring for you than going out. I know it is not a long flight from London, Phil, but travel can be exhausting.’
‘Giovanni used to work at the Hotel Cipriani,’ Natalie added. ‘He’s a marvellous chef.’
‘I am so happy to be sharing a meal with my wife, I wouldn’t care less if it was beans on toast.’ Phil turned to Cate. ‘You don’t know how I’ve missed you.’
‘Me too.’ Cate looked rather bashful, as though she wasn’t used to her husband being so effusive.
‘Well, it’s been lovely to meet you again, Phil. I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal, which I promise you is not beans on toast.’ Natalie picked up her bag. The crew were packing up, careful to lift their equipment to save scratching the glossy floor.
Phil stood up. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you too. Or should I say, meet you again. I’m sorry I don’t remember speaking to you in the art gallery but I do remember trying to escape my raucous classmates! It must be fate, you and Cate meeting again like this. It’s going to make our stay even better.’ He stepped forward and planted a kiss on both Natalie’s cheeks.
Natalie stood frozen, arms pressed to her side. ‘Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ His smile reached his eyes, warm and friendly. Natalie couldn’t detect a trace of guilt.
‘Goodnight, Natalie.’ Cate’s cheek brushed hers lightly, both women kissing the air.
‘You go ahead, Natalie; do not wait for me,’ Lucia said.
Natalie didn’t need to be told twice. Stepping out into the dark street, getting away from Phil and Cate, was like casting off a heavy, itchy sweater on a warm, spring day.
A familiar figure was walking towards her. Eraldo! Without thinking, she broke into a run.
‘Eraldo! I thought you were meeting me at the osteria.’
‘I could not sit there, waiting. I was worried about you. What was it like meeting that man, Phil?’ He kissed her twice, his faint stubble rough against her cheek. How good he smelt. She wished she could fling her arms around him, lose herself in a comforting embrace.
‘It was hard, really hard. But it was really strange too. If I didn’t know what he’d done, I would have said he’s the nicest guy I could hope to meet.’
‘Perhaps that is why Cate finds your story so hard to believe… Shall we go to La Gallina Verde, if you have not lost your appetite?’
‘For risotto? Never!’
They set off through the back streets, her arms swinging loosely by her side, free of the tension she’d been holding inside for hours.
‘Careful!’ He steered her around a dropped ice-cream, a pink slick spreading across the paving.
‘Thanks! I didn’t spot that.’
‘I expect you are still thinking about this Phil.’ He took her hand in his. ‘It is not far to walk now.’
‘Good,’ she said automatically, though she’d be happy to tackle the entire length of the Grand Canal in a pair of high heels if he kept hold of her hand.
A metal sign in the shape of a hen told her the osteria was ahead of them. The narrow calle , lit only by the lights from the row of eating places, wasn’t wide enough for outside tables, but the view through the osteria’s small window looked cosy and inviting.
‘You are happy to eat here?’ He indicated a menu propped open amongst a selection of old musical instruments displayed in the window. ‘The owner’s grandfather was a musician before he opened this place after losing an arm in the war.’
‘How awful.’
‘The orchestra’s loss was the city’s gain. He could create far better dishes with one hand than most of his rivals could with two. His son had a talent for both music and cooking and luckily, he chose to continue with this place and his grandson has followed him.’
‘It looks perfect.’
Eraldo pushed open the door. A tall woman in a short-sleeved, black dress covering a prominent baby bump ushered them to a table, leaving them with a couple of menus whilst she went to fetch a bottle of water.
‘She is married to the original owner’s grandson,’ Eraldo explained. ‘Perhaps the child she is carrying will continue the family tradition.’
The woman smiled, obviously catching his meaning. She placed a blue, glass bottle on the wooden table.
‘Some wine, Natalie?’
‘You choose.’ She’d been half-tempted to clear out the hotel mini bar before meeting Phil, but the fear of saying something to Cate that would destroy their tentative truce had prevented her from sampling even a small Peroni.
Eraldo ordered their wine without fuss.
‘I recommend the seafood risotto to start: the house speciality,’ the waitress said.
‘That sounds good; I’ll have that,’ Natalie said.
‘For both of us.’
‘And today’s special.’ The waitress nodded towards the blackboard. ‘It is a fish from the lagoon: very good,’ she added for Natalie’s benefit.
‘Perfect, I’ll have that too.’ Natalie felt her shoulders relax. It was good to sit back and chill whilst someone else made the decisions.
‘The same. A side of polenta too, to share.’
‘How was your day?’ she asked, content to let Eraldo talk until the waitress returned carrying their wine chilling in a bucket. The woman uncorked the bottle with a flourish and poured a little for Eraldo to taste.
‘ Perfetto, grazie !’ He turned to Natalie. ‘This will go beautifully with the risotto. They use saffron in that dish. Venice has a long tradition of using exotic spices; it was one of the trades that made the republic rich.’
‘You’re very proud of your city, aren’t you? Why did you choose to go and study in London?’
‘I was young.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Venice seemed small, insignificant compared to London. I imagined it to be the most exciting city in the world.’
‘And was it?’
‘For a while! Especially when I met Floella and her friends. We were one big gang, working hard all week but at weekends – what parties we had! Sometimes, we would all pile into someone’s little car and head for the coast. Brighton – it was not, how you say, an exotic, white-sands beach but it was fun.’
‘You didn’t want to stay?’
‘I missed Venice but when I came back for Christmas one year, I found that many of my friends had moved away to other towns. The population here is declining, forced out by the number of tourists renting properties that would otherwise be people’s homes. The rents for shops are rising, pushing out the Venetian artisans as foreign investors move in. They say one day, there will be no Venetians; the city will be one big theme park: an Italian Disneyland.’
‘That would be terrible.’
‘I did not want to be one of the people who left, abandoning my city to such a fate. I knew then that when I had finished my course, I had to return here. And I do not regret that. How could I, with food like this.’ He laughed.
She scooped up a forkful of the risotto which had just arrived, bringing the scent of the sea to their small table. ‘This is so good.’
‘The secret is cooking the rice just so. Creamy yet the centre of each grain of rice is still firm to the bite.’
‘You look so serious!’
‘Food for Italians is a serious business, especially here. Venice is a marvellous place. I do hope your bad experience in the past has not spoiled it for you. In future, when you think of this city, perhaps you might think not of creepy sottopassaggi but of historic eating places and food like this.’
‘I will. I like it here a lot.’ Her eyes strayed to the cello nestled in an alcove, a trio of violin bows mounted on the wall. An old-fashioned dessert trolley rattled over the tiled floor as the waitress headed for a table on the far side of the room.
‘It seems to suit you; you look so much more relaxed.’
‘It is such a relief to come and meet you. I almost forgot about tomorrow. I’m with Cate and Phil all day long, filming on the lagoon islands. First, we go to Murano for the glass blowing, then onto Burano and the island of San Giorgio Maggiore.’
Eraldo frowned. ‘I do not think this is right. Call Floella. Explain. She would not want you to do this. It is not good for you here.’ He tapped his forehead.
Natalie pulled the head from the langoustine decorating the edge of her dish, and carefully broke off its pink shell. She dipped her hands in the lemon-scented finger bowl and wiped them on her linen napkin.
‘I can’t quit,’ she said. No matter how much Eraldo’s suggestion made sense, she wouldn’t, couldn’t leave Floella in the lurch. Through years of short-term relationships that fizzled out before they had a chance of getting serious and fleeting friendships with people who never really got close, Flo was a constant presence in her life.
He took the wine bottle from the cooler, topped up both of their glasses. ‘You are loyal, I understand. I just hope this man does not say anything that will cause you more distress.’
‘Phil didn’t even remember we’d spoken at the Accademia gallery as schoolchildren; at least that’s what he said.’
‘He looked perfectly normal? No change of expression, no twitch, no blinking?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘There is a name for people who experience no guilt, who have no empathy for their victims.’
‘Psychopaths… but I can’t imagine Cate could be married for years to someone who shows no feelings, and the way he acts around her, the way he talks about their two sons, it just doesn’t fit.’
Eraldo scooped up the last few grains of his rice. He paused, the fork halfway to his lips. ‘Maybe you are wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’
He chewed on the mouthful then cleared his throat. ‘It seems to me… if this husband of Cate is not a psychopath or a first-class actor then perhaps he was not the person who attacked you.’
She swallowed a large mouthful of wine. The risotto, so light just moments ago, sat in the pit of her stomach like a pile of builders’ rubble dumped in the Grand Canal.
‘I was only fourteen; Phil ruined my life.’ Her voice cracked; tears pricked her eyes. ‘Phil groped me in that alley. If I had not got away from him, I don’t know what else he might have done. First Cate, now you. Why doesn’t anybody believe me?’