Natalie bit back the question on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t help wondering whether it was really a work crisis that had prevented Phil from flying out with his wife.
19
The San Marco vaporetto stop was swarming with tourists heading towards the great basilica. Natalie already missed the wide-open space of the Arsenale, the feeling of insignificance as they’d looked up at the soaring towers.
‘I’m really not sure we’ll have time to go to Eraldo’s workshop,’ she said.
Cate peered at the app on her phone. ‘We’ve only got to hop across to the San Salute stop and take a short walk. Come on! I really want to talk to him about creating something for Phil. Look, there’s a Number One coming now.’
‘Okay.’ Natalie sighed. She tapped her pass on the reader and waited whilst the passengers emptied out. A young woman ushered them on.
Cate leant against the side of the vessel. ‘Let’s stand here; it’s fun to look out.’
‘Sure.’ Natalie squeezed past a huge, yellow suitcase into a neat gap. Across the water loomed the great dome of Santa Maria della Salute, familiar from every website she’d skimmed on the journey over.
‘Beautiful.’ Cate’s elbow brushed Natalie’s as she raised her phone to take another photo.
Natalie tried to focus on the waterfront, pushing down the nerves she felt at returning to the mask maker’s shop she’d so hurriedly exited just days before. It would be so much easier to take herself off for a tour of Santa Maria della Salute and leave Cate to make her way to the workshop. She took a deep breath. ‘We’ll be getting off in a minute. Have you worked out the route? I took the traghetto over last time.’
‘Yes, it’s easy. Don’t look so nervous, Nat!’
‘I’m not nervous,’ Natalie lied.
‘When you like someone, it’s only natural.’
‘I’m not interested in Eraldo. He’s just a nice guy; he’s a friend of Floella, that’s all.’
Cate raised her eyebrows.
The vaporetto inched towards its floating dock. A young woman began untying the rope. They squeezed their way off. Cate marched confidently ahead, across a square, over a bridge and down acallelined with craft shops and small galleries and over another bridge, Natalie trailing behind her. The scent of rose and patchouli wafting from the perfumery confirmed Cate had led her to the right place.
‘What a gorgeous shop!’ Cate exclaimed, coming to a halt. ‘Look at the quaint glass bottles; they’ve even got a gentleman’s range! Now, where exactly is this watch place? Oh, there it is: just on the other side of that cute little bridge above that mask shop. Do you remember that mask making? What a mess we made! Glitter everywhere and no one was brave enough to tell Mrs Nickson she had a great lump of glue stuck in her hair.’
‘Complete chaos.’ Natalie had to laugh.
She turned away from the perfumery towards Pietro’s window. And stopped. The harlequin costumes and carnival masks had been joined by rows and rows of whitebautamasks like an installation at a trendy Shoreditch gallery. But that wasn’t what was making her palms sweat. It was the unmistakable cloaked figure of the Plague doctor, hat pulled low over hollows for eyes, a curved beak protruding from its sinister mask.
Natalie swallowed. She took a step back.Come on, Nat. It’s only a mannequin. There’s no one behind it.
‘Natalie? Nat, are you okay?’ Cate’s voice was soft.
‘Yeah…’ She would be all right in a minute; she just needed a moment to bring her heart rate back down. She swiped the beads of sweat from her upper lip, glad that the pattern on her dress would hide the damp patches spreading beneath her arms.
‘You poor thing; does that monstrous costume bring it all back?’
‘Yes,’ she croaked.
‘Look at me.’ Cate’s eyes were sincere. ‘You’ve got this, Nat. There’s nothing to be scared of. That creepy guy’s long gone. You’re not in a deserted alleyway; you’re not alone any more.’
‘I know. Thanks for trying to make me feel better.’
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you that night. I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to you. I’m your friend, whether you like it or not.’
‘Thanks,’ Natalie mumbled. She pushed open the door. The bell tinkled.
‘Buonasera! Good afternoon!’ Pietro wiped his hands on his brown apron and polished his glasses on a purple handkerchief before popping them back on his nose. ‘So nice to see you both again. Have you come to purchase traditional Venetian masks? Or perhaps you are here to see my younger and more handsome friend?’ He chortled.
‘I am hoping to commission a watch for my husband’s birthday.’
