‘Yes, and that coffee is okay, I suppose. But sometimes, I want to go out somewhere, have a few words with the barista, sit in a chair, and let someone else bring it to me. I like Da Michele. It’s been run by the same family for more than seventy years. My papà and mynonnobefore him used to take me there. And you will see a little more of the real Venice as we walk.’
‘I’d like that.’
They walked together in silence in the late-afternoon sun. Despite the unsolvable situation she’d created, she felt her cares temporarily subside as they cut through narrow streets past ancient churches and crossed vastcampiwhere groups of young boys straight out of school played competing games of football, balls flying in every direction.
Eraldo stopped by a café’s red canopy. The few small tables outside appeared to be occupied but he didn’t seem deterred, holding open the door for her. The aroma of coffee and toasted bread filled the small, tiled interior.
‘Salve!’
‘Salve, Eraldo.Un caffè?’ The tattooed barista was already twisting the basket into place.
‘For you, Natalie?’
‘The same, please.’ She glanced through the window; no seats had been vacated, no one looked in a hurry to move.
The barista said something in Italian. Eraldo shook his head.
‘What did he say?’ Natalie asked.
‘He says he can ask that old fellow to move; he and his dog have been hogging that outside corner table for nearly two hours. But I know him; he has no family, so he spends a lot of the day here talking to whoever comes by. We can sit inside instead.’
‘I don’t want to keep you too long,’ Natalie said again. She squeezed into a small corner booth.
‘Do not worry, I will let you know if I get bored.’ His eyes twinkled. He put their coffees on the table and sat down opposite her. ‘Now, tell me.’
‘It’s Cate’s husband, Phil. He’s somebody I knew a long time ago.’
‘An old boyfriend?’
‘Absolutely not!’ she snapped so loudly, the barista turned around. ‘Sorry… it’s just… oh, I don’t know. I don’t know where to begin.’
Eraldo ran his hand through his hair. ‘It is okay. You do not need to tell me. Perhaps we do not know each other so well.’
‘Sometimes, it’s easier to talk to a stranger.’
‘A stranger?’ His face clouded. ‘I thought perhaps I was a little more than that.’
She fiddled with her teaspoon. ‘You are… I just meant someone who can see with fresh eyes.’
His smile returned. ‘I hope I can do that.’
Natalie looked into his eyes, warm and sincere. ‘It was on our school trip…’ she began.
It was easier to tell her story than she thought it would be, Eraldo gently encouraging her each time she faltered. When she’d finally unburdened herself, he sat quietly for a moment or two before speaking.
‘Perhaps it is for the best that Cate is going home. You will not need to see this man who caused you such hurt. It does not seem a good thing now, but perhaps in time, you will be glad.’
‘But the show… Floella’s always been so good to me.’
‘Floella is a kind, good person; I think she will understand. She would not expect you to have to spend time with a man who did this to you.’
‘I can’t believe he’s wrecked my life again. He’s destroyed my one chance to present a prime-time show. Floella might forgive me but there won’t be another opportunity like this. They’ll have to set up the whole Venice sequence again; I expect they’ll wait for Mandy to come back now.’ Natalie’s phone beeped. ‘That’s bound to be Lucia, confirming this evening’s arrangements. I don’t know how I’m going to tell her all her work’s been for nothing.’
‘Answer it; ignoring it will not make things better.’ His voice was gentle.
She reached into her bag. ‘It’s Cate!’
‘What does she say?’
