‘No problem.’ The steward smiled. ‘Have a lovely time in Venice.’ He waggled the bear’s arm to make it look as though it was waving.
Cate smiled weakly. She walked briskly down the aisle, stepping carefully onto the top rung of the aircraft stairs. Warm air hit her. The sky was clear blue. Venice. She was here. Without Phil. And without Mandy.Come on, Cate, pull yourself together. She was nearly forty, she’d raised two children, helped run a successful business, she was living a life she could never have dreamt of the last time she was here. She was a different person now, wasn’t she?
* * *
Phil smacked his hand against his forehead. Poor Cate – she’d looked so bewildered. How could he have bolted from the airport, leaving her like that? He knew his hastily concocted lie about the crisis in the office hadn’t fooled her, but how could he explain why he couldn’t get on the plane? If he told her about what had happened in Italy all those years ago, she’d be sickened. She wouldn’t look at him the same way again; she might even leave him, and he couldn’t live without her. When the TV company told them they’d be swapping lifestyles with a couple from Venice, why hadn’t he pulled the plug straight away? He could have made up an excuse, any excuse. Now it was too late. He was only putting off the inevitable; tomorrow, he would have to get on a plane. He just needed one more day. To be alone. To think.
‘Is it here, mate?’ The taxi driver’s voice cut in.
‘Yes, thank you.’ He paid the man and stepped out, slamming the cab door too hard. The driver yanked Phil’s suitcase out of the boot, dumping it on the wet pavement. It had started to drizzle again. Phil grabbed the handle, thrust his other hand into his pocket. He’d find a pub and drink until he’d blocked out the guilt and the shame. The way he always did when the memories taunted him.
8
Cate started reading the rest of the email from Flo-Go Productions, one eye on the luggage belt:
Please be assured Mandy’s unfortunate absence will not impact the filming schedule forLuxe Life Swap. Our local representative, Lucia, will meet your flight as planned.
Her smart, chocolate-brown, leather-trimmed case emerged from the top of the luggage chute. She shoved the phone back into her bag.
‘Excuse me, umm,permesso?’ She stepped across a harassed-looking mother. The woman didn’t respond, too busy trying to comfort one wailing toddler whilst grabbing the legs of a slightly older boy determined to hurl himself onto the luggage belt.
Cate wrestled her overstuffed case to the floor. The luggage label was still attached, all zips safely done up; at least one part of her increasingly fraught trip had gone to plan. She clutched the handle, negotiating her way through the somewhat chaotic atmosphere out to the Arrivals area.
A young woman, chic in a simple, orange blouse and coffee-coloured skirt, was holding up a card with the Flo-Go Productions logo andMrs Cate Beresfordwritten in large letters. Cate’s apologetic message about Phil’s absence had clearly been received.
‘Cate,piacere!’ The woman pushed her hexagonal sunglasses up into her long, black hair. ‘I am so happy to meet you. My name is Lucia.’
Cate felt the tension in her shoulders ebb away. She took the woman’s dainty hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Travelling can be tiring, a coffee or perhaps a drink? The camera crew are by the water taxi, but they can wait. Or would you prefer to go straight to the palazzo?’ Lucia continued, taking hold of the handle of Cate’s case and heading in the direction of the exit at a rate of knots that defied her high heels.
Cate strode beside her. ‘I’m happy to go straight there. I can’t wait to see where we’ll be staying for the next fortnight.’
‘Mandy was so happy when we sent over the pictures of the count’s house. Your husband will love it when he arrives. He comes tomorrow, yes?’
‘I’m so terribly sorry…’
Lucia waved a dismissive hand. ‘It is no problem; we adapt, create a few, how you say, filler scenes. We will visit some of our best Venetian boutiques, show you some of our Italian fashions. The countess shops in the streets around St Mark’s. All the big-name designer brands are there but we will visit the smaller boutiques she favours. You can see a unique selection, the best of Italian designers from the Veneto region. It will be fun,sì?’
‘Thank you, I would love that.’
It would be interesting to experience shopping Italian-style, and it wasn’t something Phil would mind missing at all. It sounded terribly spoilt but she’d got bored with London’s designer stores. At first, the doors held open by uniformed staff, complimentary champagne, soft music and hushed voices had made her feel like royalty but after a few visits, the novelty of being handed a box-fresh blouse to try on had worn off. And although the scent of the floral displays in Christian Dior was far more pleasant than the aroma that had hung around the changing rooms of Oxford Street on late Saturday afternoons, shopping in Bond Street wasn’t half as much fun as the days when she and Natalie had illicitly shared a changing room in Topshop, snorting with laughter as they tried on armfuls of clothes before skipping off to Primark for something cheaper they’d take it in turns to wear on Saturday nights.
‘Cate, meet our television crew.’
Cate snapped back to the present. They’d reached the landing stage. She tried to take in the names as Lucia introduced the make-up girl, the director, and the camera crew led by a burly fellow sporting a red, padded gilet, despite the warm evening, and his achingly cool female assistant whose sleeveless, khaki shirt revealed brown shoulders and arms, strong and sinewy from lugging equipment around.
After a brief conversation in Italian that went straight over her head, a dusting of face powder and the application of a rather vivid lipstick she was too overwhelmed to protest about, Cate was deemed ready. She stepped into the sleek, white water taxi, holding the arm of the driver for support.
Lucia sat down beside her. ‘We will not begin filming until we are nearer to the Grand Canal. Do not worry if you cough, or sneeze or are not always smiling. We will only use a few small clips of this journey, just enough for the viewers to see you on the water. It is the shot of you arriving at the palazzo that is the important one. But if it is not right… pfft! We film it again.’ She paused and spoke to the driver before turning back to Cate. ‘Franco, he knows we may have to approach the palazzo’s canal front entrance several times if the director is not happy. Now please sit back and enjoy the journey.’
Cate leant back and relaxed as Lucia chatted knowledgeably about the floating city she called home. There was something calming about being out on the water.
‘We will focus on the intimate moments as you contemplate your new surroundings,’ Lucia explained. ‘And then a door from the library will open and Natalie will come out to meet you.’
‘Natalie?’
Lucia frowned. ‘You did not receive the email from us about poor Mandy?’
