‘I will. I like it here a lot.’ Her eyes strayed to the cello nestled in an alcove, a trio of violin bows mounted on the wall. An old-fashioned dessert trolley rattled over the tiled floor as the waitress headed for a table on the far side of the room.
‘It seems to suit you; you look so much more relaxed.’
‘It is such a relief to come and meet you. I almost forgot about tomorrow. I’m with Cate and Phil all day long, filming on the lagoon islands. First, we go to Murano for the glass blowing, then onto Burano and the island of San Giorgio Maggiore.’
Eraldo frowned. ‘I do not think this is right. Call Floella. Explain. She would not want you to do this. It is not good for you here.’ He tapped his forehead.
Natalie pulled the head from the langoustine decorating the edge of her dish, and carefully broke off its pink shell. She dipped her hands in the lemon-scented finger bowl and wiped them on her linen napkin.
‘I can’t quit,’ she said. No matter how much Eraldo’s suggestion made sense, she wouldn’t, couldn’t leave Floella in the lurch. Through years of short-term relationships that fizzled out before they had a chance of getting serious and fleeting friendships with people who never really got close, Flo was a constant presence in her life.
He took the wine bottle from the cooler, topped up both of their glasses. ‘You are loyal, I understand. I just hope this man does not say anything that will cause you more distress.’
‘Phil didn’t even remember we’d spoken at the Accademia gallery as schoolchildren; at least that’s what he said.’
‘He looked perfectly normal? No change of expression, no twitch, no blinking?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘There is a name for people who experience no guilt, who have no empathy for their victims.’
‘Psychopaths… but I can’t imagine Cate could be married for years to someone who shows no feelings, and the way he acts around her, the way he talks about their two sons, it just doesn’t fit.’
Eraldo scooped up the last few grains of his rice. He paused, the fork halfway to his lips. ‘Maybe you are wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’
He chewed on the mouthful then cleared his throat. ‘It seems to me… if this husband of Cate is not a psychopath or a first-class actor then perhaps he was not the person who attacked you.’
She swallowed a large mouthful of wine. The risotto, so light just moments ago, sat in the pit of her stomach like a pile of builders’ rubble dumped in the Grand Canal.
‘I was only fourteen; Phil ruined my life.’ Her voice cracked; tears pricked her eyes. ‘Phil groped me in that alley. If I had not got away from him, I don’t know what else he might have done. First Cate, now you. Why doesn’t anybody believe me?’
31
Eraldo leant across the table. ‘I do believe you, Natalie, I promise you. I believe that a man – a boy – assaulted you. But how can you be so sure this was the husband of your friend? You told me he was wearing the costume of the Plague doctor: a mask over his face, a cape up to here…’ He raised one hand to his chin. ‘A black hat, like so.’ He put the other hand to his forehead.
‘I knew it was him, the boy I’d spoken to in the gallery. He was the same height; he knew my name. He called my Natalie.’
‘But his voice, you said it was strange, you did not recognise it.’
‘Itwasstrange, distorted, a fake creepy voice. Okay, I admit that voice could have been anyone’s but he was wearing those fancy trainers. They had bright-yellow laces; that’s why I noticed them straight away.’
Eraldo scratched his forehead. ‘Those trainers were expensive, aspirational, I guess. To you, these were something you had only seen on pop stars or footballers, in fashion magazines, something kids at your school could only dream of, but this school Phil attended…’
‘Hillingdon.’
‘Yes, Hillingdon: an exclusive boarding school that costs a fortune. Those pupils were sons of lawyers, tech millionaires, even people related to your royal family. Is it not possible that one of those rich pupils had an identical pair? Another boy who overheard one of your friends calling you by your name.’
Natalie let out a sigh; it was as if all the fight had gone out of her. ‘Maybe you’re right; any one of the boys from that school could have seen me leave the masked ball, slipped away and followed me. I was convinced it was the boy I’d spoken to at the gallery; that’s why I couldn’t get over it: that it was someone who’d seemed so nice. What with that, and Cathy – I mean, Cate – not believing me, it stopped me from trusting anyone for all these years. I’ve always feared I was a bad judge of character, that friends and boyfriends would let me down. I’ve carried that with me my whole life.’
Eraldo leant across the table, picked up her hand and squeezed it. ‘But you think highly of Floella, one of the best people I know. And you are here with me tonight. I am not a bad person, I hope.’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘Maybe I’ve developed better judgement with age.’
‘I do not think that is it. You thought the boy in the Plague-doctor costume was someone you knew but when he suggested you walk down thatsottopassaggio, you were scared; you told me you went with him for fear of looking silly… You were a good judge of character; your gut instinct was right.’
She let go of Eraldo’s hand so the waitress could put down their plates of fish.
