‘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.
2
The aroma of barbequed sausages drifted across the elegant dressing room. Cate hastily closed the sash window. Down on the patio, Phil was supervising next-door’s teenage daughters who, bribed by the promise of mini hotdogs and a boost to their pocket money, were acting as waitresses that evening. From two floors up, she could see the tiny bald patch in his reddish-brown hair had now spread to the size of a fifty pence piece.
She opened the doors of her treble wardrobe. The neat rows of jackets and dresses lined up on padded hangers never failed to please her. She bit her lip, considering. Something with sleeves, the evening was too warm to cover her upper arms with one of the rainbow of cashmere pieces stacked up in the cedar-lined cubby holes. She practised Pilates regularly, but even so…
Quickly, she selected a deceptively simple shirt dress and retrieved a pair of duck-egg blue sandals from the rotating shoe cupboard. Phil’s inlaid, hand-turned barrel design had been an instant hit, it had even featured on the front page ofWorld of Interiors.
She ran a brush over her white-blonde hair. There had been no time to squeeze in another salon visit; they were leaving tomorrow and she hadn’t begun packing. She’d told Phil she was too busy with the preparations for their annual summer party. But come the morning, she’d have no such excuse. She’d have to psyche herself up for the trip.Luxe Life Swapwould be the perfect showcase for Phil’s business. She couldn’t let him down.
She breathed deeply the way she’d learnt on her spa retreat, inhaling the scent of freesias on the dressing table. Shewouldcope with this trip to Italy. She was no longer the insecure teenager who’d gone on that school trip, hiding a smattering of normal teen acne – that felt like the end of the world – under a too-long fringe.
She fastened her emerald bracelet, a Christmas present from Phil. How lucky she was. She mustn’t forget that. Why was she harking back to a school trip most of her classmates would barely remember? Cate wasn’t proud of the way she’d behaved in Venice but that trip had changed everything. It had made her determined to leave her old life behind as soon as she could. She glanced in the mirror at her expensively made-up face. Cathy Laidlaw was gone. Cate Beresford had taken her place. Those girls from St Margaret’s wouldn’t recognise her now. Except for Natalie Spencer. Nat had known her better than anyone.
