Natalie turned away. She signalled for the bill.
18
‘Let’s go,’ Natalie said. The feeling of joy she’d felt drinking cocktails in Harry’s Bar had vanished with the last drop of her bellini. She paid quickly and picked up her bag. Cate followed her out onto the street in silence.
Natalie consulted the map on her phone, not bothering to ask Cate where she wanted to go.
Cate stood in a patch of shade, knees pressed together, hands thrust into her pockets, ruining the line of her beautifully cut trousers. Natalie wanted to grab hold of her shoulders and yank them upwards the way she’d yanked up Tall Polly’s as they stood queuing for St Mark’s. Polly had blushed beetroot, tears in her eyes. Natalie had been thoughtless, insensitive back then. They all had. But what Cate had done was worse than thoughtless and Natalie wasn’t going to forgive her. But she couldn’t let it show. She couldn’t let the past derail the filming, couldn’t let Floella – or herself – down.
‘Let’s go to the Guggenheim Collection; we could see the Picassos and the Dalis,’ she suggested.
‘No, I can’t face any crowds. Let’s just walk, get away from these people.’ Cate flicked a dismissive hand at a meandering tour group.
‘Sure, we could walk straight along the canal side out towards the old shipyard at the Arsenale.’ Natalie didn’t care where she went as long as Cate perked up before her trip to the opera that night. Some television shows delighted in building people up to knock them down butLuxe Life Swappedalled an unashamedly aspirational dream. Their viewers didn’t want misery; they wanted to escape to a fantasy world of super-privileged people with happy faces.
Natalie forced herself to try and lighten the atmosphere, commenting on this and that. Cate trudged along beside her with all the enthusiasm of an old lag taking a turn around the exercise yard at HMP Wandsworth.
As they walked eastward, the crowds gradually thinned. The activity on the far reaches of the Grand Canal slowed down. The sky was a cloudless blue. Cate slowly thawed. It was easier to talk walking side by side, as long as Natalie kept to neutral topics like Cate’s beloved dog, Ted. By the time they reached the far end of theriva, the frown that had been threatening to burst through Cate’s botoxed forehead had disappeared; the bloom had returned to her cheeks.
They turned up the canal side path leading to the Arsenale. The old shipyard area was quiet, the vast industrial site now out of bounds. The two great towers either side of the sealed entrance looked as though they’d been plucked from a medieval castle. Natalie blinked as if by looking again, she might conjure up the thousands of men who once toiled in the great shipyard and the sounds of hammering, shouts and cursing as huge girders were manoeuvred into place. Had those workers been conscious of their place in history, aware that Venice’s wealth and power was dependent upon its ability to trade with the world? She’d never know; they’d vanished into the past. Now the loudest sound was the clink of crockery and the voices of tourists coming from the café by the great stone lions.
‘They had so many workers, they say they could turn out three whole ships in a day,’ Cate remarked.
‘You certainly read up before you came.’
‘Phil told me; he’s fascinated by any sort of craftmanship.’
‘Of course, that would make sense with his line of work. Handmade furniture’s quite a niche area to get into these days.’
‘He got lucky; the uncle of one of his old school friends gave him a paid internship. He worked his way up from there and once Seb retired, Phil took over the business. He’s always been interested in art and design; he’ll be in his element once he gets here.’
‘It will be nice to meet him.’ It would be easier to keep up a professional façade when it wasn’t just the two of them.
‘I’m so relieved he’s on his way,’ Cate said.
‘So am I, but at least one of you arrived on time. Although we like to see the couples together on screen, we can always use a few extra shots of the wives. Our viewers love to see all the different outfits the women wear; the men can look a bit samey.’
‘Good thing we went shopping; my wardrobe’s not very colourful.’ Cate chewed at her bottom lip.
‘You’re fine, honestly, just as you are.’ Natalie reassured her. Just as Cate had reassured Natalie in the changing rooms in Topshop twenty-five years ago. She pushed away the memory. ‘Have you seen enough? Shall we go? We can take a waterbus back.’ She started to walk off down the side of the café.
‘Natalie! You’re going the wrong way!’
‘Of course, how stupid!’ Even with a headful of memories – and a blindfold – she should have been able to retrace her steps to the Grand Canal.
‘Looks like I’ll have to navigate our way to your watch restorer’s workshop,’ Cate joked. ‘Don’t forget, I’ve got a commission to discuss.’
‘Mywatch restorer? I’ve only met him twice!’
‘Sometimes, just once is enough.’ Cate’s face broke into a smile for the first time in hours. ‘You like him, don’t deny it. I can still tell what you’re thinking; you haven’t changed that much, you know!’
‘I’m not sure we’ll have time to go there; you’ll want to be waiting at the palazzo when Phil arrives.’
Cate pulled out her phone. ‘It’s fine, we’ve got hours; Phil’s only just about to go through security… I hope nothing goes wrong.’
‘Why should it?’
‘No reason, I suppose.’ Cate’s face told a different story.
