Natalie wished she’d accepted Cate’s suggestion of a second glass of wine; the combination of Eraldo’s dark-chocolate eyes and the passion in his voice was making her feel unusually flustered.
‘You take commissions, I imagine,’ Cate said. ‘I’ve been wondering what to get for my husband’s birthday. He is so hard to choose presents for, but he collects watches and a restored antique watch would be perfect. Phil has an appreciation for fine things and he’s such a wonderful man, he deserves something special.’
‘Phil’s company creates incredible furniture; he has a royal warrant.’ Natalie could relax now Cate was gushing about her husband. She didn’t know why the thought of her ex-classmate flirting with the handsome Italian should bother her. It wasn’t as if Natalie was interested. She wasn’t here to look for a partner; she wasn’t even here to make friends. She was in Venice for one reason only: to work. And that was a good thing. People always let you down in the end. Especially the ones who meant the most.
‘Ah, Pietro is back from the kitchen at last, and I must join him,’ Eraldo said. ‘The delicious smells in this osteria are making me very hungry.’
‘Of course. It was so nice to see you again,’ Natalie said.
‘A most pleasant surprise. And lovely to meet you, Cate. Do visit my workshop if you find the time. Come tomorrow if you like and we can talk about a commission.’
‘Thank you, I will, if that’s okay with you, Natalie?’
‘Of course.’
‘I look forward to meeting you again, Cate,’ he added. ‘And Natalie, of course.’
‘Me too.’ She just wished she could meet him again without crossing the mask maker’s floor.
* * *
‘I do hope you had a lovely evening.’ The housekeeper ushered Cate into the palazzo.
‘Yes, thank you, Nunzia.’
‘May I fetch you a drink?’
‘That is so very kind but I think I will have an early night,’ Cate said.
She just wanted to be alone, to unpack her things, and to send a goodnight message to Phil. She wouldn’t phone him; she knew he’d catch something different in her tone of voice and before she knew it, she’d be spilling the whole story of her soured friendship with Natalie Spencer. And she wouldn’t be able to do that without letting slip the secret she’d kept from him.
She climbed the stairs, turned the handle on the bedroom door. The Gold Room seemed marginally more homely now that her perfume bottle and hairbrush stood on the marble-topped dressing table, her travel alarm clock and the new Marian Keyes novel on her bedside chest.
The housekeeper had unpacked all Cate’s belongings, her suitcase squirreled away, out of sight. She opened the doors on the triple wardrobe; the aroma of cedar wood mingled with the fragrance from the vast vase of fresh flowers set on the tallboy. Her clothes had been hung on wooden hangers, arranged by colour, accessories stashed in cubby holes.
She stepped out of her dress, hung it up carefully and shrugged on the sumptuously soft, oversized robe left out for her on the chaise longue by the window. The thick, white material brushed against her ankle bones; the cuffs nearly reached the tips of her fingers. Reflected in the dressing-table mirror, her head looked tiny, as though it had been photoshopped onto the body of a polar bear.
She wished she felt tired enough to climb into the great high bed, lean against the painted headboard, read for a few moments then drop off. But she was wide awake, with nothing to distract her mind from harking back to the night of the school trip that had upturned her world.
She sat down on the velvet-topped dressing-table stool and opened her travelling jewellery box, a clever fold-up design given to her by Lucy. A slim compartment lay beneath the orange, velvet lining. ‘I use mine for hiding my lover’s letters,’ Lucy had said. Cate wasn’t quite sure if Lucy was joking; even after years of mixing with Phil’s upper-class friends, she didn’t always get their sense of humour.
She slid out the photograph and the torn scrap of brown paper she kept hidden there. Cate didn’t recognise herself in the picture but she could tell this was her christening day. Mum and Dad, barely more than children themselves, looked as though they’d raided the dressing-up box, her mother Lina in a polka-dot blouse with huge shoulder pads.
Cate smoothed out the piece of old envelope. She’d unearthed it from the bottom of Dad’s sock drawer when she’d been packing up his belongings to take to The Evergreens. A moment’s inattention and the paper would have gone straight in the bin. But her eye had recognised the handwriting, identical to the message inside her book of nursery rhymes.
Just a few words were written in the smudged, blue-black ink. A return address in Burano, Venice.
13
Natalie had to admit, Cate was a pro. Despite being asked to take her ‘first’ sip of cappuccino three times and to eat a breakfast that consisted of three bites of four different identicalcornetti,her smile didn’t falter. Her no-make-up make-up was flattering and sophisticated, her spun-silk hair glowed in the morning light, not a single buttery flake had fallen on her white shirt. Natalie’s hastily eatencornettohad left a sticky film on her fingers, a blob of the apricotmarmellatamarred her thankfully patterned dress and only a discreetly raised eyebrow from Lucia alerted her to the dusting of icing sugar clinging to her lipstick.
‘It’s a wrap.’ The director was satisfied. The crew started packing up; curious onlookers began drifting away. Natalie let out a breath. They’d been filming a simple sequence but she knew how much could go wrong. Today, it had all gone smoothly; she could set Floella’s mind at rest. For now. Flo had said she had every faith in Natalie, but her frequent messages and emails told a different story.
‘Now we will go to the San Marco district where the countess likes to shop,’ Lucia said, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. ‘We will go to the exclusive small boutiques. That will be enjoyable,sì?’
‘Perfect,’ Natalie said.
Cate pulled down her sunglasses.‘You and me shopping together – shades of Lakeside.’
