‘That won’t be necessary,’ Lucia said. ‘You and Natalie can take the reservation. It will be good to get to know each other better before your trip to the fashion boutiques tomorrow. It will create a nice chemistry for the viewers.’
‘Of course, that makes sense,’ Cate said smoothly. ‘But I do believe Natalie and I may have met before. You went to St Margaret’s, didn’t you, Natalie?’
Natalie winced. ‘How clever of you to remember.’
‘How beautiful that you should meet again!’ Lucia said. She checked her folder. ‘The reservation has been made atOsteriaLe Pistole, on Rio Terrà dei Assassini.’
‘Le Pistole– does that mean what I think it does?’ Cate asked.
‘The pistols. It is a strange name perhaps but it is appropriate. The name of the road means the street of the assassins.’
‘Street of the assassins,’ Cate repeated. ‘It sounds like a place for old enemies to meet.’ She looked at Natalie and raised an eyebrow.
A bark of laughter escaped before Natalie had time to stop it. Cate’s lips began to twitch; her shoulders shook.
‘I miss something? What is funny?’ Lucia said.
Cate let out a strange noise, somewhere between a giggle and a hiccup.
‘It’s rather too difficult to explain.’ Natalie avoided Cate’s eyes, pressing her lips together to try to keep a veneer of professionalism.
Lucia frowned as though she were puzzling over another English peculiarity like Marmite or instant coffee.
‘Well, I will leave you both to enjoy your meal.A domani! Buona notte.’ She picked up her folder.
‘Allow me to show you out, Lucia.’ The housekeeper, Nunzia, had materialised as if from nowhere.
The door clicked shut behind them.
‘Are you ready, Cate? Or perhaps I should call you Cathy.’
Cate smirked. ‘For the street of assassins? Sure, I’m ready!’
11
Cate placed her quilted handbag on the empty chair beside her. Natalie instantly regretted chucking her tote bag onto the floor. Cate’s aura of sophistication had her feeling as though she were still an unworldly schoolgirl. She found it hard to tear her eyes away from her ex-classmate’s silky, white-blonde hair, line-free forehead that attested to a top cosmetic surgeon on hand and quietly luxurious clothes, all creams and golden browns. Cate Beresford was a far cry from the lanky Cathy Laidlaw whose single-parent dad had battled to get her to school fed and dressed and didn’t have the time or money to worry about fraying cuffs or unpolished shoes.
‘I can’t believe it’s really you! This is just so weird. It must be nearly twenty-five years,’ Cate said. She shrugged off her gold-buttoned blazer. It wasn’t warm inside the trattoria; perhaps Natalie’s old classmate wasn’t feeling quite as cool as she looked.
‘I know! After all this time!’ Natalie opened one of a pair of leather-bound menus. The sooner they ordered, the sooner she’d be out of this awkward situation. ‘Shall we take a look at the menu? What do you fancy?’
The tension in Cate’s jaw almost imperceptibly softened; it seemed she too was glad to steer the conversation to a nice neutral subject. Natalie dropped her head to scan the short selection ofantipasti,primiandsecondi.
‘Risi e bisi– rice and peas; that sort of risotto usually has pancetta in it, doesn’t it?’ Cate gave the impression she ate out all the time. She probably did.
‘I’ll have thespaghetti al nero di seppia,’ Natalie said, glad of the English translation. It sounded delicious but she hoped the squid ink wouldn’t stain her teeth; they already didn’t bear comparison to Cate’s top-class dentistry. ‘Then I’ll have the seabass; it says it’s cooked in a rock-salt crust.’ She snapped shut the menu, twisting her neck to look for a waiter. A cold glass of something from the extensive wine list might help calm her. And she needed a drinkright now.
‘Meat for me, after therisi e bisibut definitely not the liver. I don’t care how much of a speciality it is here; that’s one thing I won’t touch. Do you remember that time Mrs Nickson forced me to eat some?’
‘She stood over you, making you finish every morsel to teach you a lesson after she’d caught you flicking a lump of mash at Julie Paine.’
Cate laughed. ‘I used to hate Julie. I don’t know how she and I ever ended up as friends.’
By ganging up on me. By deserting me when I needed you most. Did Cate really not know what she’d done?
Natalie turned to the hovering waiter, his electronic tablet an incongruous sight amidst the traditional, white tablecloths, glowing wall sconces and old wood panelling.
She ordered, as did Cate, who pronounced her choices like a born Italian.
