‘Phil, are you okay?’ Cate called.
‘Sure, everything’s fine, I won’t be long.’ It was half-true. He didn’t feel as bad as he had feared. Why had he thought that coming to Venice would make things harder? It wasn’t the city that was to blame; it was his own cowardice. And he carried the guilt and the shame wherever he went. No change of location could make him feel worse. Or better.
He splashed some water on his face. Sometimes, he hated the sight of himself in the mirror. This marble bathroom, the basket of expensive unguents he could massage into his body or rub on his face, even his beautiful Cate waiting for him on the bed, who looked like a goddess and whose skin smelt like sugar and roses, had all come at a terrible price. Cate didn’t deserve someone like him, his touch on her skin like toxic pesticide drifting across a meadow.
‘Phil?’
‘Coming!’
He padded over to the bed, his feet cosseted in the complimentary monogrammed slippers the TV company had provided. He perched on the edge.
‘You look tired, darling,’ Cate said.
‘I think the travelling has just caught up with me. And it’s a really early start tomorrow for this glass-blowing trip.’ He gave a yawn he hoped sounded realistic. ‘I don’t think I can stay awake another moment.’
‘Don’t worry. There’s always another time.’ She pressed her soft lips against his. ‘Goodnight, Phil.’
He shrugged off the dressing gown and crawled under the covers. Cate switched off the bedside light and snuggled back against her pillow. She closed her eyes.
Her breathing became heavier as she drifted off to sleep. He lay staring at the ceiling.
32
Natalie adjusted the hard hat they’d all been issued with even though they were safely positioned far from the glass furnace. Three men moved in silence; the tip of an iron rod glowed white hot. Another man was forging a red and orange vase, his face a picture of concentration behind his safety goggles. It was hard to imagine how the globule of molten glass could be turned into a preciousobjet d’artby nothing more than the glass blower’s skill with hands and mouth, yet that was precisely what was happening right in front of her.
Cate’s blonde hair and mint-green blouse glowed in the ethereal light. Natalie fought the urge to cough, desperate not to break the artisans’ concentration. Phil’s hands were thrust into his pockets, his forehead beading with perspiration in the heat, causing the make-up girl to be on full alert with her fluffy powder brush. Lucia had abandoned her trusty folder in the corner, watching with arms folded. The camera crew moved around, quiet as cats. There was no need for Natalie to speak; Cate’s and Phil’s rapt faces expressed more than any words, and the necessary explanations would be added in Natalie’s voiceover once Floella had chosen her edit.
One of the glass shapes began to take on the form of a cheetah, or perhaps a leopard – she had no idea how to tell the difference.
‘Incredibile!’ Lucia gasped, immediately clapping her hand to her mouth.
‘Don’t worry, we’ll edit that out,’ Natalie said.
The glass blower carefully set the creature down to cool, signalling for them to stay back. He removed his goggles.
‘That was superb, an experience I will never forget,’ Phil said.
The make-up girl dashed forward. After a quick dusting of powder, Phil repeated his comment for the camera. His words sounded as natural as though he were saying them for the first time. Was he a good actor, a natural liar? Natalie studied his face. No, he wasn’t acting, just trying to do his best. Despite her initial conviction, she was now almost entirely sure that Phil wasn’t the one who’d followed her that night.
He caught her looking. ‘Was I okay? Do you want me to say that again?’
‘No, second time was perfect.’
The director nodded in agreement, signalling at the cameraman to stop the filming.
‘Thank you again for this,’ Phil said.
‘It’s a pleasure, Phil,’ Natalie said.
Cate glanced at her sharply.
Natalie smiled, flashing Cate what she hoped was a ‘speak later’ look. Cate turned away, feigning an interest in the glass leopard.
‘I was hoping to speak to someone about creating a chandelier for Cate’s dressing room. We were talking about that over breakfast, weren’t we, darling?’ Phil draped an arm around his wife’s shoulder.
‘Phil’s so thoughtful. It will be a gift for my fortieth birthday so the details will have to be a surprise but he has such a good eye, I know I can leave him to commission something exquisite.’
‘We will talk to the showroom manager; he deals with all such enquiries.’ Lucia glanced in her folder. ‘We could see him in his office now if you would like to follow me.’
