‘No! That cannot be. But even if you think that, it is part of your journey, your story, that brought you here. So, tell me, how was the world of talking bears and musical slides?’
Natalie hesitated. Had Floella given Eraldo the low-down or had he been googling her? She cringed at the thought of the handsome Venetian finding pictures of those hideous dungarees, the haircut she’d copied from Rachel inFriendsthat didn’t suit her at all.
‘Perhaps you do not want to share these experiences?’ There was a note of disappointment in his voice.
‘Oh, no, it’s not that.’ She searched for an amusing anecdote. ‘Live television was quite an experience. The producer decided to use real animals on our Christmas nativity special instead of kids dressed up but they didn’t anticipate the donkey lifting its tail and adding an extra gift alongside the gold, frankincense and myrrh…’
Eraldo let out a laugh.
‘That’s not all. One of the little boys with a tea towel on his head was too shy to ask for the toilet so a moment later, a great puddle spread across the studio floor.’
Eraldo wiped a tear from his eye. ‘What a disaster! But funny also,sì?’
‘The producer didn’t think so, not even after the audience rated it their favourite episode. We were pre-recorded after that. At the time, I felt humiliated, as if I was somehow responsible, but itwasfunny. I’d almost forgotten that.’
She’d been so focused on usingPanda’s Placeas a stepping stone to a prime-time adult show, she hadn’t appreciated how liberating it was to perform for an easily pleased audience who rolled about clutching their sides every time a man in a giant panda bear suit got stuck halfway down the musical slide. Which happened every week. She hadn’t had to worry about the cut of her dungarees or whether her hair was bouncy and her eyebrows shaped to perfection. The audience ofLuxe Life Swapwould be a lot harder to please. She could already envisage the disparaging comparisons between her Primark bargains and Cate’s designer threads. Not to mention her failure to live up to Mandy Miller’s virtuoso talents.
‘Are you okay, Natalie?’
She realised she was frowning. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Ah, good, that looks like our food arriving.’ Eraldo flashed a smile in the waiter’s direction. The man put down a plate of snacks: crispy rings of what she assumed was calamari and oval crostini smeared with black-olive tapenade.
Eraldo picked up a miniature triangular sandwich secured with a toothpick. It was made from the type of sliced white bread Natalie hadn’t seen since Mum made her packed lunches. But thesetramezziniweren’t curling at the edges, and that filling definitely wasn’t Tesco’s own-brand sandwich spread.
‘Tuna?’ she guessed, biting into the soft, white bread. Itwastuna, the flaky fish mixed with juicy, green olives and tart cornichons causing her tommmwith pleasure. ‘This is delicious.’
‘Just wait until you try the crostini and the calamari.’
A tiny, golden crumb clung to Eraldo’s full top lip. His tongue ran across it; the golden speck disappeared. A strange liquid sensation filled the pit of her stomach. She bit into a ring of calamari, the crisp coating giving way to a melting taste of the sea. She’d always found calamari chewy in the past, and a bit greasy too, but not this time.
‘Even better than the tuna,’ she said.
Eraldo smiled. ‘Then you must have the last one.’
‘If you’re sure.’ She’d normally hold back but the nibbles had only succeeded in making her realise how hungry she was.
‘The kitchen here makes a fresh batch ofcicchettievery hour but the calamari are always the first to go no matter how many they make. We were lucky to get any at all.’
‘As lucky as getting this table. It’s the perfect perch.’ She sipped herombraof wine.
‘Do not get too comfortable; we will be leaving soon.’
His words took the magic of the evening with them; the warm, fuzzy feeling vanished like the last piece of squid. She gulped down a mouthful of wine. Someone elbowed her in the back; her glass knocked against her front teeth.
Eraldo didn’t seem at all bothered their evening was wrapping up so soon, signalling to the waiter and waving away her offer to pay. A quick bite, a tiny glass of wine and their night was over. And why would he choose to prolong it? She didn’t have Floella’s ebullient personality, Cate’s ethereal beauty or Mandy’s warmth. She slithered down from her stool.
‘This way, Natalie.’ He wove a path through the rest of the customers, steered her around a group of teenagers walking arm in arm. They turned the corner, emerging right by the opera house. Inside, Lucia and Cate, resplendent in one of her new gowns from Simona Rinaldi, would be listening to the soaring voices.
‘La Fenice! I had no idea we were so close.’
‘I took you to abacaronearby in case there was a problem with the film crew or something else needed your attention. But now the performance has started, I think it is safe for us to go somewhere else. If you would like to?’
‘That was so thoughtful of you. Yes, I’d love to carry on. Lucia can deal with anything. I’m off duty this evening.’ And now she was going to spend it with him. To think that a few moments ago, she’d believed he was trying to shake her off!
‘Good.’ He slipped his arm through hers as they continued to walk. A friendly gesture, no more, but her breath caught. ‘I am glad you are able to relax but in a job like yours, you are always – how do you say? – on call.’
‘Is that what Floella says?’
