Seeking Crystal Page 6

  ‘This place is extreme.’ Xav leant on the parapet, watching the gondoliers pass under with a cargo of Japanese tourists. I stood beside him. I love this view of the church of Santa Maria della Salute, the very one that I ran to daily. It sat at the end of the Grand Canal like a very fat question mark. While Venice is mainly about horizontals, long, low islands and winding river channels, here the view emphasized the verticals: tall palaces rising directly out of the jade green water, candy-striped mooring poles, wooden piles driven into lagoon mud. I’ve often thought it would make the good basis for an abstract fabric print—just the hint of Venetian colours and lines. I should sketch it sometime and show the signora.

  ‘So, how did the visit to the doctor go?’ Xav tapped the parapet restlessly.

  ‘It didn’t. I didn’t go.’ I tugged Rocco away from a fallen ice cream cone and started down the opposite slope of the bridge. ‘I’ve been feeling fine.’

  ‘You, Beauty, are enough to drive a boy to drastic measures.’

  I let the pet name pass on this occasion; Lily and Signora Carriera had helped change my mind about that. ‘What can you do? It’s my body.’

  ‘I could tell your sister.’

  ‘And what happened to doctor-patient confidentiality? You may have the spidey sense, as you called it, but that comes with responsibility—I’ve seen the movie.’

  ‘Rocco, bite her. Someone needs to make her see reason.’

  The beagle looked up at Xav, puzzled to hear his name.

  ‘Don’t bring him into it. That’s not fair.’

  ‘I seem to remember someone promising to see a doctor when they left Denver.’

  ‘Well, I changed my mind. Let it go.’

  ‘Will you let me take a closer look then?’ He made a step towards me but I dodged his touch.

  ‘So do you think Steve Hughes is the greatest actor of his generation or not? Personally I’m a big fan. I’m hoping we’ll get to meet him.’

  ‘Good try but changing the subject won’t work with me. You saw Rocco with that gold stuff in the store—that’s me with the little matter of someone’s health.’ He grinned, expecting me to appreciate the self-mockery.

  I was not in the mood for his brand of charm. ‘I’m not a child; it’s my life: I can make my own decisions.’

  ‘Like that’s turning out so well for you.’

  I felt he had just cut me off at the knees. Xav had teased me frequently but he’d never been cruel before. I looked away before he saw that he had upset me. ‘I repeat: it’s my life; if I want to make a mess of it then that’s my decision.’

  He sighed, reaching out to me then dropping his arm when he saw me move away. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, but you drive me crazy.’

  ‘So it’s my fault you were rude? Oh yeah, I get it. My little life here isn’t enough for the amazing Benedict family—or my own family for that matter. Basically you all despise me for not being a high achiever like you lot.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes!’ I echoed back, using exactly the same tone. ‘You might wish you’d not said it but at least I know what you really think under all that charming gloss of words you spray over everyone you meet. You’re the equivalent of a verbal water cannon.’

  ‘Crystal, I only meant that you weren’t taking care of yourself as you should.’

  I accelerated, leaving him lagging until he matched my pace.

  ‘I’m sorry, really sorry.’

  ‘Just shut up, Xav. I don’t want to talk to you.’

  ‘Cupcake … ’

  ‘I’m not your cupcake, your beauty, your anything! I’m not even a proper Savant so just butt out of my life!’

  He held up his hands. ‘OK, OK. Message received. Sorry for caring.’

  I shoved open the courtyard door. ‘Come on, Rocco, let’s find your supper.’

  Even Diamond, absorbed as she was by her soulfinder, sensed that all was not well between Xav and me. She and Trace carried the burden of the conversation at dinner until it became awkward for everyone. I had been pleased to see her but the way she looked to Trace over the dining room table, speaking with glances, underlined how she no longer belonged with me, if she ever had.

  ‘So how’s your new job, Crystal?’ Trace asked kindly after he had entertained us with an account of his investigation into a recent financial fraud. His gift enabled him to track where things had been and it had led them right to the door of the guilty party who had taken to the old fashioned crime of printing his own money.

  ‘It’s fine, thanks.’ I twiddled spaghetti on my fork. The poor man didn’t have much to go on with that answer. Manners made me elaborate. ‘We’ve been busy doing the costumes for a film company.’

  ‘That must be really interesting.’

  ‘Yes, it has been.’

  Silence fell again. I could sense Xav seething on the other side of the table. ‘Crystal’s hiding something.’

  I looked up sharply: he wasn’t going to betray me, was he?

  ‘What she hasn’t said is that they’ve asked her to be an extra—me as well.’

  ‘Oh, Crystal, that’s wonderful!’ Diamond latched on to the good news with embarrassing enthusiasm.

  ‘It’ll just be a very short scene—a few seconds if that—bit of Venice atmosphere.’ I shrugged. ‘Probably end up on the cutting room floor.’

  ‘Still, but the experience will be fascinating. It hardly matters what they do with the footage.’

  ‘I s’pose.’ I wondered if I should mention the modelling thing. ‘There’s this costume designer who’s taken an interest in me.’

  Xav helped himself to more Parmesan. ‘I thought it was me she has a crush on.’

  ‘Cute.’ I grimaced at him. He returned the gesture—we were acting as if we were in the primary school playground in our treatment of each other.

  ‘Xav,’ Trace said quietly. Why did I get the impression his whole family spent half their life reining him in?

  I didn’t need telepathy to hear him think ‘well, she started it’.

  ‘Anyway, as I was saying before I was interrupted,’ Xav gave me a mocking bow, ‘Lily—that’s the designer—thinks I might photograph well. She’s going to get a friend to take some shots on set so I can send them to modelling agencies.’

  Diamond looked at Trace, her brow furrowed. What had I said?

  ‘I’m not joking: she said I had a face that would, you know, be memorable. She thinks I could go the whole way—become famous and everything.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Diamond pushed her plate away.

  ‘What? You don’t think I could do it?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. I think you could—that’s the problem.’

  ‘You’re worried I’m going to succeed? That doesn’t make sense. You’ve been pushing me to do something—well, here it is.’

  Xav stepped in. ‘That’s not the issue, cupcake—sorry, Crystal. It’s the kind of success you’d be aiming for.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I examined their faces—they all knew something I didn’t but I had no idea what.

  ‘We Savants can’t become famous—not in ordinary circles,’ Trace explained. ‘We have too many enemies and people would use us if they knew we had certain gifts.’

  ‘But I’m not trying to be famous for being a Savant.’

  ‘We understand but the same still holds true. If you are well known, people will start digging for dirt and asking questions. There is no one more examined than a celebrity. If they find out about you, you’ll become a target. At the moment you’re safe because you are unknown.’

  ‘Sorry, Crystal, better not take off that mask on Sunday.’ Xav pulled the bowl of spaghetti towards him to help himself to seconds.

  Diamond, sensing the explosion about to come, held up a hand to silence him, but it was too late.

  ‘I can’t believe this!’ I shoved my chair back and leaned both fists on the table. ‘I finally find something I could do—somebody who thinks I’ve got a future—and
you’re telling me to forget it! Oh, it’s all right for you with your shiny gifts and your reputations in the Savant world, but what do I have? Nothing!’ My head started to pound, eyesight blurring. ‘You all know I’m worse than useless in the Savant world so why the hell should I let that hold me back?’

  ‘You’re not the only one who has to make sacrifices, Crystal.’ Trace managed to make me sound like a child in a tantrum. ‘Xav here has had to turn his back on a promising skiing career.’

  ‘Yes, but he has something worthwhile in its place—his healing. I want this—I want this new life. If it means cutting myself off from the Savant way of doing things, then fine, I’ll do that.’

  ‘But your family belongs to that world. You haven’t thought this through.’

  I folded my arms, gulping against the lump in my throat. ‘I’m not the one saying I have to choose.’

  ‘Crystal, please.’ Diamond rested her forehead on the back of her hand. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with this now—what with the wedding and everything else on my mind. Can’t it wait? We’ll talk it over when that’s out of the way.’

  ‘You know, you might not get anywhere in any case. No point driving a truck through the family harmony for something that might not happen. It’s a competitive industry.’ That was Xav’s brand of peacemaking; he should leave it to Diamond.

  ‘Thanks for the support, guys. Really, I’m overwhelmed.’ I took my plate to the counter, scraping the uneaten food into the bin. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk. I expect you’ll want an early night as you’ve been travelling. I have to get up at dawn for work so, well, see you sometime.’

  I made sure the door banged loudly when I went out. One benefit of sharing the flat with others again was that my temper had an audience so the gestures were worth making.

  I didn’t go far. I sat by the vaporetto stop near our apartment on the edge of the raised boardwalk that we used during high tides. In late autumn and winter we often had to slosh through puddles as the lagoon swamped the edges of the city twice a day. There was a siren system for dangerously high water or acqua alta, as we called it, but just at the moment the tide was low and no one was walking on the raised platform. A street seller with an eye for the late trade of tourists visiting the restaurants shot little glow-sticks into the air; they hovered for a moment before falling back to the pavement—a tiny firework. A breeze came in off the Adriatic, bringing the scent of diesel and saltwater. Boats came and went from the mooring platform. I pictured them in my mind like needles tacking together the edges of the city in a constant circle. Venice is a good place to sit alone; something is always happening and no one questions why you should want to stop and people-watch for a while. It is a place used to being on display.

  I replayed the dinner table conversation. I still felt hurt and my brain was coming up with all sorts of over-dramatic responses, ranging from refusing to attend the wedding and never speaking to my family again. But the saner part of me knew this was like one of those angry emails fired off in the heat of a temper and regretted afterwards. No one was trying to harm me; they just saw things differently, thought they knew what was best. My impulse to slam doors and shout that no one understood, that it wasn’t fair, was that of a teenager. Technically I was still one, but I no longer had the luxury of being able to indulge my own mood swings. People were expecting more from me—I was expecting more from myself.

  But that didn’t mean they were right. I was correct when I said my future wasn’t the same as theirs. I had few attractive options in the Savant world so would need to forge my own path. If it conflicted with the usual Savant practice, well then, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it, work out how to reconcile the two. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day and certainly wouldn’t wait for a wedding to come and go.

  I got up, more at peace now I’d made my decision. Diamond, Trace, and Xav would not approve, but I was going to have those pictures taken and then go from there.

  Realizing things had not gone well between us, Xav tried to be nice to me for the next two days but I didn’t make it easy for him. My response to the situation was to become the master of disappearing either to work or for a run. But I was touched, though, when he left a little bunch of silk violets in my bedroom, which some street seller no doubt conned him into buying for far too much money. Still, it was the thought that mattered to me, even if he was doing it just so I didn’t spoil his brother’s wedding by fighting with him all the way to the big day.

  The first time we spent any time together was at the crack of dawn on Sunday morning when I went into his bedroom to wake him at five. I discovered he was not a morning person, which pleased me no end, as I was the one that got to drop a cold flannel on him.

  ‘Hrr-murph!’ He flung the flannel into a corner and buried his head under the pillow. I would have normally tried to ignore the display of tanned arms and glimpse of toned midriff this flailing about revealed, but, hey, I have hormones like the next girl. Some things in life are worth seeing.

  ‘Rise and shine, cupcake. Hollywood awaits.’

  His answer was a grunt.

  ‘Oh well, that’s fine. I’ll go on my own then. Shame, I made coffee—I’ll just have to drink that too.’

  ‘There’s coffee?’ A face appeared from under the pillow.

  I put the mug down on the bedside table—my version of a peace offering as I recognized it had taken two of us to fall out. ‘Just don’t think I’m making a habit of it.’

  I went back to my own bedroom to get ready. Lily had already warned me not to do any make-up or hair myself, as the make-up artists wanted a clean palette to work on. I left my hair loose which of course meant it was spiralling all over the place as if I’d just stuck my finger in the power socket. My dream of modelling had never seemed more ludicrous.

  Xav had shambled into his clothes by the time I returned to the kitchen. Why do boys just look gloriously rumpled when we look as if we’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards? ‘Thanks for the coffee. I can’t get going without a shot of caffeine.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  He clapped a hand to his chest. ‘Stop press: we have something in common!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, hold the front page. Now, have you got a coat?’

  He grabbed his jacket. ‘Yes, mother.’

  ‘Wellington boots?’

  ‘What? Ah no, I haven’t. That would be because I was packing for sunny Italy, not rainy England.’

  ‘Hmm, Diamond really should’ve said. You will need them.’ I stuck my own feet into my favourite pair of polka dot ones.

  He thought I was joking. ‘Must you?’ He gestured to the boots.

  ‘I really must.’

  ‘C’mon then, fashion disaster—let’s go.’

  I was the one to be laughing once we were outside. The early morning tide was high and the pavement outside our courtyard was awash. His trendy boots were going to be toast. ‘Piggyback?’

  He looked grimly at the toes of his leather Timberlands. ‘Like you could carry me, Beauty.’

  ‘I’ll give it a go—just to the bridge. Then there should be walkways all the way.’

  ‘Don’t tell my brothers.’ He stood on a garden chair and I took his weight. He was pretty heavy, I must admit, and I staggered a few paces before getting my balance. We managed to cross the short distance without falling into the canal. I dumped him on the dry ground by the bridge.

  He gave me a jaunty salute in thanks. ‘How much do you charge?’

  ‘What, for rescues? You couldn’t afford me. That’s your one freebie. After this the Timberlands will have to be sacrificed.’

  We made our way through the streets back to the Accademia Bridge over the Grand Canal.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Xav had only now really woken up.

  ‘Filming is taking place at the Piazza San Marco. I don’t think they’re going to actually do any proper stuff until it gets dark this afternoon. We’ve got to be there so they can set up the
shot.’

  ‘You mean I could’ve stayed in bed?’

  ‘If you are Steve Hughes, you probably are still in bed. We extras are done first so the stars don’t have to wait around. Lily warned me it might be a bit boring.’ I rather hoped Xav might turn back. ‘You could bow out if you want—no one would mind.’

  ‘No way. If you can put up with standing around, so can I. It’ll give us a chance to talk.’

  ‘Hmm.’ I didn’t want to mention in our little ceasefire that I had arranged to spend my spare time with Lily’s photographer friend.

  The film crew had taken over one corner of the piazza for their costume and make-up marquees. We checked in with an assistant director and then joined a queue. Xav and I took one look at our fellow extras and burst into laugher. It was odd being with so many other tall people, as if the world had suddenly divided into us normal folk and the munchkins who dressed us. There were lots of good-humoured quips between the two sides. I wasn’t even the tallest girl; there was one who must have been well over six feet.

  Xav was led away to the men’s side of the marquee, his lack of Italian meaning that the locally hired make-up ladies pulled and prodded him like a child where they wanted him to go. They were enjoying the opportunity to have such a good-looking boy at their mercy and he looked a little bewildered by their attentions.

  ‘Be gentle!’ I heard him plead as he was pushed into a chair in front of a mirror.

  From the giggles that comment provoked I guessed they understood more English than they let on.

  When my turn came, the make-up artist explained that the cosmetics would be applied quite lightly as most of our faces would be hidden by masks. Emphasis was on blood-red lips and glitter on the eyelids.

  ‘But Lily asked me to do you a special treatment as you are having some photos taken, yes?’ Marina, my artist, dusted my cheeks with a faint blush. ‘Nothing too heavy, just a little emphasis to bring out your features.’ She stood back, pleased with the final effect. ‘Hmm, Lily was right: there is something about you. After costume, go to Paolo in wigs and hair: he knows what you need.’