It certainly wasn’t her husband’s finest hour but Phil looked so wretched, Cate’s heart went out to him.
‘Oh Phil! Of course it wasn’t right what you did, you should have spoken up and told the truth, but you have to forgive yourself. You were a child, just the age Oli is now, a scared young boy. If anyone’s to blame for what happened to Raj, it’s that sick, twisted teacher. And I’m sure it’s not all as black and white as you believe it was. It sounds like Evan was a troubled young man who needed a real friend. And youhavebeen a real friend to him. He would have dropped you long ago if it was just a matter of convenience.’
‘We’ve got stuff in common now: business interests, dinner-party friends, our boys being at Hillingdon together. But don’t you see? Underneath, it’s all rotten. We’re bound together by the selfish, cowardly thing that we did. I’ll never have another friend like Raj; he’s worth ten of Evan and a hundred of me. But I let Raj walk away. I never saw him again.’
‘You didn’t try to get in touch? Never phoned or messaged him?’
‘I was too cowardly, too afraid of what he would say. I ruined his life, Cate. Coming back here brings more reminders every day. I can’t forgive myself. Sometimes, I think you’d all be better off without me.’
‘No! Don’t ever say that. Oli and Max worship you. And how do you know for sure Raj’s life was ruined when you haven’t spoken since?’
Phil put his head in his hands. ‘Sometimes, I look him up on Facebook,’ he mumbled.
‘But you don’t do social media. You wouldn’t even let me set up an Instagram account for the business; you said it was more exclusive that way.’
‘I signed into Oli’s account. It was easy enough to guess his password.’
‘Phil! Honestly! Oli will think you’re snooping because you don’t trust him.’
‘Oli doesn’t post anything on there; he says only boomers use Facebook nowadays, whatever that means. I know how Raj is living, Cate. His posts and profile are there for anyone to see. He’s such an open, honest guy, it wouldn’t occur to him to make them private. He runs a coffee-shop franchise in a rundown shopping arcade; I’ve got a business that’s patronised by the Prince of Wales. He takes his wife and three kids on caravan holidays; we’ve stayed in a suite at the Ritz. I’ve got everything he should have got.’ He slapped his wrist. ‘I’ve even got a Rolex. What a cliché!’
Cate fiddled with her wedding ring. Across the room, the man behind the bar was pouring glasses of champagne. She pulled out her phone and clicked on the Facebook icon she almost never used. ‘I want to take a look at this Raj. What’s his last name?’
‘Why?’ Phil sounded weary but he spelt it out for her. ‘There’s more than one user called that; he’s the one with his family in his profile pic.’
Cate had no trouble finding him. ‘What a nice smile he has! And his wife and kids look lovely.’
She studied the latest photograph Raj had posted. He and his family eating ice-cream sundaes at an outdoor café. She had the strangest feeling it was somewhere she knew. She used her fingers to expand the picture. The café where she and Natalie had drunk coffee earlier came into view. Cate checked the date. Raj had posted the photograph just that morning. She looked across at Phil, chewing the skin around his manicured nails.
‘Now I understand why you’ve been so weird and jumpy. But don’t you see? This is the perfect opportunity. I know it’s not easy but don’t you think it’s time you apologised to Raj in person?’
Phil sighed. ‘You’re right, I know you are. Of course I should. I’ll try and contact him when we get back home. He lives on the edge of London now; it’s not that far away.’
‘There’s no point putting it off till then. Not when he’s here.’
‘What do you mean?’ Phil looked blank.
‘You didn’t know?’ She held out her phone. ‘Read the caption.’
Celebrating our twentieth wedding anniversary with the kids, a once-in-a-lifetime dream trip to Venice.
‘He’s here? Oh, Cate, I can’t.’
‘You can. You’ve got to do it for yourself. And for him. I already think better of you for having the courage to tell me all this. I know how hard it can be to bare your soul. Message him now; you can use my Facebook account. Tell him you’re here and you’d like to meet. Keep it short and light.’
She forced herself to smile patiently as he typed and deleted, typed and deleted until finally settling on a two-line message.
‘Do you think that’s okay?’ He slid his phone across the table. She pressed send.
‘There, it’s gone. And now it’s my turn to confess. You’re not the only one who’s been keeping secrets.’
The colour drained from his already pale face.
‘It’s okay,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s not an affair, nothing like that. It’s about me. Tomorrow, whilst you’re at the gondola workshop, I’m not going to be mooching around the shops like I told you I was. I’m going back to Burano. I’m going to meet my mother.’
‘Yourmum?’ Phil gawped. ‘But I thought… I assumed… she’d passed away.’
‘I know I let you think that and I’m truly sorry. I haven’t got time to explain properly now but I promise I’ll tell you everything tonight when we’re back at the palazzo. In the meantime, I’ve got to go.’ She picked up her bag and squeezed out of the booth. ‘One of us needs to go back to the restaurant to make that tiramisù before Lucia sends the film crew home. And with your cooking skills, it had better be me.’
