‘Tastes amazing.’
‘I’ll get one too; I’m ravenous.’ Cate waved over the ever-helpful waiter and ordered a plate ofbigoliand another two glasses of wine even though Natalie had barely started to drink hers. ‘Let me find some pics of our boys whilst I’m waiting… Oh, here’s one of Max by a Spitfire at the air museum. We went there for his last birthday. He’s still determined to be a pilot when he’s older even though we’ve tried to persuade him it won’t be half as exciting flying a Boeing for Ryanair.’
‘But it will be a lot safer.’ Natalie studied Max’s freckled complexion, mop of red hair and confident air.
‘Yes, but I’d still rather he stayed on solid ground. That’s typical of all mums, I suppose… well, some of them.’ A cloud crossed Cate’s face.
‘What about Oli, your older boy?’
‘He wants to be a furniture designer like his dad; he’s very artistic. I’ll try to find you a decent snap.’ Cate frowned down at her phone. ‘To think once upon a time I could take as many as I liked: on the climbing frame, at the zoo, even in the bath! Ah, here’s some where he’s playing cricket. I usually get away with taking a few then; he’s secretly rather proud of being on the team. Max looks like me apart from the red hair but Oli takes after his dad.’
‘Let’s see.’ Natalie laid down her fork. It was hard to make out the boy’s face, his ill-defined features thrown into shade by his white cap, but he shared an upright bearing and confident aura with his younger brother.
‘Swipe along – there’s probably two or three.’
‘This is a good one.’
Oli was holding some sort of trophy, looking straight at the camera. There was something oddly familiar about the older brother’s face. Something that made Natalie feel as if invisible centipedes were crawling over her skin. Oli’s face was the face of the boy from her school trip: the face of the boy who’d attacked her. But that was ridiculous. It had to be a strange camera angle, a trick of the light. She swiped to the next photo. Now she could barely discern any resemblance between Cate’s son and the youth who’d followed her the night of the masked ball. Venice, with its years of history, its myths and shadows, was sending her imagination into overdrive.
Cate smiled expectantly; she’d been too busy thanking the waiter and digging into her newly arrivedbigolito spot Natalie’s temporary unease.
Natalie handed back the phone. ‘They look like two lovely boys.’
‘They are.’ Cate wiped a tiny smear of olive oil from the side of her mouth. She dug her fork back into the pasta. ‘Sorry I don’t have a decent one of Phil; he’s even worse than the boys when it comes to getting his photo taken. Actually, I couldn’t believe it when he agreed to apply for the show, but I suppose the possible boost to his business overrode everything. And I guess being filmed is easier than posing for photos, not knowing what to do with your hands or the rest of you!’
‘Mandy Miller makes it look so easy.’
‘It’s smiling and looking natural all at the same time that’s hard.’ Cate pulled a face.
‘You’re a pro.’
‘I hope Phil won’t look and feel too awkward. I’m beginning to wonder if that’s what’s been bothering him lately: worrying about how he might come across.’
‘He is okay, isn’t he?’ Natalie tried to sound casual.Luxe Life Swapdidn’t deal in stress and marital strife.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Cate rubbed her hand across her forehead. ‘He’s never been good at showing his feelings. But let’s not talk about that. Let’s get the bill. I know we talked about going to the Lace Museum but I’ve seen enough of Burano to last a lifetime.’
‘I suppose we could try to change the filming schedule,’ Natalie said, although Floella would probably kill her.
Cate smiled brightly. ‘It’s okay. We’ll come back here for the filming; I won’t let you down. Look at the colours, the quaint little houses; your viewers will love all this. And Phil knows it’s on our itinerary. I don’t want him questioning why things have changed. I can’t have him worrying about me. You won’t tell him about today, will you? Promise me.’
‘No. I promise. Shall we go?’
‘Coffee, ladies? Some dessert, perhaps?’ The waiter, as if sensing a shift in mood, had reappeared.
‘Just the bill please. This one’s on me, I insist.’ Cate opened her wallet. ‘Here, this will more than cover it; keep the change.’
‘Grazie.’ The waiter slipped the cash into the pocket of his apron.
‘Thank you, that was kind.’ Natalie stood up.
‘Wait a moment.’ Cate rooted in her bag. She scrunched up the piece of brown envelope with her mother’s address and dropped it into the aluminium ashtray. ‘I won’t be needing this any more. I think the vaporetto stop is over that way. Come on, let’s go.’
‘After you.’ Natalie hung back, just for the split second it took to palm Cate’s cast-off scrap of paper into her bag.
26
A three-foot-wide chandelier suspended from the frescoed ceiling hung over the breakfast table.
