by Jessica Ayre
A shadow falling over her face stirred her eyes open. She looked up to find Derek standing over her, his lithe frame a glistening golden brown in the strong sunlight.
'Fancy another swim?' The deep blue of his eyes emitted a magnetic pull.
Jennie rose lazily. 'Mmm, that would be nice.'
They raced into the sea together splashing froth from the waves. Derek laughed, 'Race you to the rock!'
Jennie exerted herself, but she was no match for him.
His clean powerful strokes brought him to the distant rock with no visible exertion. She came up beside him and his strong arms lifted her easily on to the rock.
'I've got an unfair advantage,' he smiled. 'Years of California.'
'Against my years at the local swimming baths.' She looked up at him, suddenly shy as she took in the rugged beauty of the man poised on the boulder between sea and sky.
His eyes flickered sensuously over her body and he put out a hand to touch her thigh. Jennie flinched away, and Derek's smile grew devilish. 'Do you trust yourself to do a little sightseeing with me?'
Jennie glared at his emphasis. 'I'm the only one I trust,' she said, so acutely aware of his presence that she wasn't sure of the truth of her words. 'But I can never refuse a sight,' she added with an attempt at levity.
He raised an eyebrow in amusement. 'Let's go, then.' He dived gracefully into the water, his arms cleaving the waves, then slowing to match his stroke to Jennie's. They reached the shore together, Jennie panting a little as her sea-borne limbs grew heavy on land.
She walked towards Kathy and noticed how she was gazing at Derek in open admiration. 'Lucky you!' she whispered as Jennie approached.
Derek followed, his taut muscles rippling golden as he moved. He dropped down next to Jennie and noticing her sketchpad picked it up and flicked through it.
'I see you're hard at work on bodies again,' he said mockingly.
'But not yours, you'll note,' she replied, her eyes darting anger as she took in his implied criticism.
'It's available, at least for the moment.' His smile was wry.
'But I'm not,' Jennie retorted, flushing.
'Oh, Jennie, do a quick sketch of Derek and me,' Kathy pleaded.
'I'm not a photographer, Kathy,' Jennie laughed a little stiffly. 'I need a little inspiration.'
'Which we don't provide,' Derek said mischievously, 'as I know from harsh experience.' He put his arm around Kathy's shoulder. 'Though I must say, I do find you rather inspiring, Kathy.'
Jennie felt her skin grow cold despite the hot sun as she followed the course of Derek's arm.
'Yes, perhaps in that pose, you do inspire me.' Jennie's voice was crisp. She dried her hands and reached for her pad and pencil.
With quick sure strokes she drew a caricature of Derek, bemuscled, arrogant, ridiculous he-man, arms around a voluptuous blonde whose cleavage he was leering into. A balloon floating out of his mouth read, 'I so love your mind, darling.' Jennie boxed the image in postcard-fashion and underneath wrote 'Souvenir of Sicily.' She tore the page abruptly out of her pad and flung it laughingly at Derek. 'There!' She turned to Kathy and whispered, 'I'll do a proper portrait of you later.'
Derek studied the picture for a moment, then burst into laughter. 'Nice to know how you see me! With your permission, Kathy, I'll send this to that grandmother I keep telling Jennie about. It will relieve her. She thinks I'm just a dull intellectual, but this lady, with true artistic insight, knows I'm not.' He looked at Jennie with an exaggerated ogle, letting his eyes move sensuously over her body.
Jennie said nothing, merely reached for her shorts and top and pulled them over her slender form to hide it a little from his eyes.
Derek rose, 'I guess it's time to investigate those promised sights,' and before Jennie could reply, he had said goodbye to Kathy and was following her up the slope towards the hotel.
'So I'm a ridiculous, empty-headed, womanising beach-boy, am I?' he said sternly as they moved out of earshot.
'And you I suppose see yourself as Diana, untouchable goddess of soulful purity.' He gripped her shoulder fiercely, forcing her to turn towards him. Then with barely perceptible pressure he slowly traced the line of her wide lips, moving his fingers down her throat to the arch of her bosom.
Jennie felt her blood pounding ominously through her veins, her legs growing weak.
'Why is it, then, O chaste and stern goddess, that you respond so avidly to my merest touch?' His voice was cruel.
Jennie pulled away and ran up the path, her cheeks flushed in humiliation.
He stopped her. 'I was just returning your barbed compliment,' he said quietly. 'Each one to his own weapons, you know. Now we can start again. Go and get changed and we'll do that long-awaited sightseeing.'
Jennie raced away, glad of the momentary respite. Without allowing herself to think, she showered the sea off herself and changed into white trousers and a halter top. Her skin was turning a rosy brown and her face in the mirror looked flushed with health. Whatever she might be feeling, she noted, her appearance was obviously blossoming. She gave herself a reassuring little smile and ran down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the lift.
Derek was waiting in front of the hotel. He opened the car door to her and they pulled off towards Cefalu.
'Not too long a tour today, because I'll have to get back. But I imagine you haven't yet had time to take in all the local sights.'
'Whatever I did see was in the dark, and it certainly didn't look like this.' Jennie leaned well back in her seat and took in the surrounding country, a wide smile on her face. The sun, now almost at its zenith, created a haze around everything. In the stillness, the heavily laden lemon trees seemed unable to stir and the bright little wildflowers that bordered the road melted into a single blaze of colour.
Cefalu was before them in minutes, its headland jutting out across a corn-blue bay, like some giant prehistoric fish basking in the sun. Derek parked the car just outside the town.
'Right, which shall it be today, pagan or Christian?' he asked, turning to her.
For a moment she was too struck by the craggy beauty of his face beneath the thickly tousled golden hair to reply. 'Pagan,' she breathed finally, feeling the word leave her lips with a flavour of danger.
His eyes smiled, reflecting the blue of the sea. 'More arduous to get to, but well worth the effort.' He led her along the side of the road to a narrow path that climbed steeply up the headland. She followed, glad of his arm and of the old trees which provided momentary respite from the blazing sun. They talked little, saving their energy for the sharp incline, occasionally straying off on to sheltered little trails ripe with greenery. When they reached the top, Jennie gasped in childlike delight. There before them , was a breathtaking coastal panorama, stretching for miles and receding only where sea met horizon, Derek wound his arm round her shoulder and when she had gazed her fill led her away from the vista to a picturesque medieval ruin. In the midst of it stood a structure which seemed quite different from the rest.
Derek winked at her mischievously. 'Welcome to the Temple of Diana, Miss Lewis. Would you like to offer a sacrifice, pay some token homage?'
Jennie bridled at the mockery in his tone. Impetuously she turned towards him, ran a finger over his lips and pressed her mouth to his. When she felt his surprise recede into response, she pulled away and, to her astonishment as much as his, slapped him hard.
His eyes grew dangerously dark, as he rubbed his cheek. 'You little wildcat!' he muttered.
She stood her ground. 'You asked for homage—well, I pay mine to Diana the huntress,' she said in a cold voice.
He reached for her arm, but she evaded his grasp and ran willy-nilly down the hill, stopping only when the tears blinded her eyes.
He was right behind her and pulled her towards him roughly, his jaw clenched. 'Don't ever do that again,' he said in an icy tone. Then, as he took in her tears, the tight line of his mouth relaxed a little. 'If you want me to drive you back n
ow, I will. Alternatively,' he paused, 'we could have a bite to eat together.'
Afraid to meet his eyes, Jennie searched in her bag for a tissue. The thought flashed through her mind that she really couldn't bear to be alone and confront the enormity of her impetuous gesture. She found her sunglasses and stalling for time perched them on her nose. Randomly she plucked a small blue flower from the side of the path and gave it to him.
'You make me do the most extraordinary things,' she said at last, finding a tone which hid the jumble of her emotions. She looked up at him and shook her head in wonder. 'I'm really a nice straightforward, rather serious person.'
A smile spread slowly over his rugged features and abandoned itself in full-bodied laughter. Like the sun bursting through a stormcloud, Jennie thought irrelevantly.
'Well, I think I can cope with a nice straightforward, rather serious person. Will you introduce me over lunch? I might have something to discuss with her.'
They made their way along narrow stepped streets, devoid of sunlight and refreshingly cool, like the interstices of some Arab town. A few minutes' walk led them to the church square, banked by cafes. Here they sat down and Jennie feasted her eyes on the graceful cathedral.
'It's one of the finest examples of that singularly Sicilian mixture of Norman, Byzantine and Spanish Baroque,'
Derek offered. 'Sicily somehow managed to take the best of every culture that invaded it.'
'Tell me more,' Jennie urged, sipping a little of the cool white wine the waiter had placed in front of them.
Derek chuckled. 'Well, let's see. I haven't read my guide book recently, but I think the first king of Sicily, Roger II, had the cathedral built. They started some time in the twelfth century, 1131 if I remember precisely,' he flashed her a wry smile. 'It took over a century to complete, and so,' he gestured towards the church, 'the mixture of styles you see in front of you. One of the later kings vowed to have the cathedral finished. He was nearly shipwrecked on the headland and it was a customary way of expressing thanks. Quite unlike the homage you offered to Diana,' he added sardonically.
Jennie flung him a wary look from beneath lowered lids, but he was still smiling. 'Far more lasting in any case. I wish I had time to sketch it.'
'Feel free. I'm quite happy just to sit. And watch, if that's permitted.'
She shook her head. 'No, I'll come back during the week, if there's time. Piero said he'd show me round.'
Derek's jaw suddenly tightened. 'For a woman who pretends not to like men, you have your guides well picked out.'
'Oh, there's an endless stream of them,' Jennie quipped flippantly. Then giving him a taunting smile, she excused herself and went in search of a ladies' room. She felt the need to be on her own for a moment, away from the searching intensity of Derek's appraisal. The interior of the cafe was a large almost bare room, simply furnished with wooden tables and chairs. At the back, she found a sign pointing the way to a rather primitive W.C. She splashed cold water on her face, passed a brush through her tangled sea-dry hair and looked at herself in the crooked slit of a mirror. It returned a stranger's face with flashing dark eyes set in sunwarmed skin. Even the expression was unrecognisable, somehow bolder, more direct.
Jennie shrugged at this other woman who seemed unafraid of life and walked out of the cafe into the bright light of the terrace. A group of sultry-eyed young men lounging around a nearby table eyed her brazenly as she passed. One rose from his seat and gestured for her to join them. Jennie shook her head and strode away, almost colliding with Derek.
'In need of my protective powers again?' he queried.
Jennie laughed. 'The protection racket seems to be endemic around here! Still, you don't strike me as a godfather.'
'Thank heaven for small mercies,' Derek laughed. 'I couldn't face another cartoon from you.'
They sat down, just as the waiter placed two plates of fritto misto in front of them. Jennie breathed in the sea smell and then bit into the crispy fish morsels. 'Delicious!' she exclaimed. 'Do you know, I think I shall leave here looking like a buxom Italian mamma.'
'You have a long way to go, young lady,' Derek muttered, glancing at her slender form. As his eyes skimmed over her, Jennie suddenly felt an ache forming in her, a desire to pass her fingers over his chest, its proportions so beautifully moulded by his brilliantly white shirt. She pushed the thought aside and forced her eyes downward to her plate.
They ate in silence for a while and then Derek began to tell her of the perfect sites he had discovered for the film. They would begin shooting exteriors tomorrow. His brow furrowed in concentration as he warmed to his subject and Jennie found herself remembering what she had all but forgotten in the sheer excitement of his animal presence: here was a man of incisive intelligence, thoroughly dedicated to his work. All at once she felt humble, stupidly young. She listened carefully to all that he said, and by the time coffee came, she felt strangely privileged.
It was then that Derek turned to her, a new note of seriousness in his tone. 'Jennie, do you remember earlier today I said I wanted your opinion on something?'
She nodded, now intensely curious about what he might say.
'It's a little unprofessional and a little complicated,' he paused, 'but here goes. You know those wonderful old Etruscan tomb paintings?'
'Yes,' Jennie murmured, wondering what he was leading up to.
'Well, I'd set a scene in one of the reconstructed tombs. But because of the expense involved in going to another location, now that we're running behind schedule, Matthew wants to cut the scene out or set it elsewhere. I thought of trying to find someone here who could recreate it cheaply and quickly, but haven't had any luck. Then it occurred to me that you with that wonderful quick hand of yours…' He stopped and looked at her questioningly.
'I'm not quite sure what you're getting at,' Jennie said honestly.
'Well, I thought you might be able to copy or at least render the visual feel of one of those tombs. Do you think it's possible?'
'Oh, I see!' Jennie breathed deeply. 'Directly on to a wall.'
Derek nodded. 'I found just the place—even as to the proportions of the arches. And in the car, I've a book full of magnificent reproductions. Do you think you could have a go, Jennie?' His face held a mixture of challenge and pleading.
'I can't promise any marvellous results—' Jennie hesitated and then smiled broadly, 'but I'll try. I've done some scene painting before, if that's any use.'
His blue eyes flashed pleasure. 'Good, I had a feeling I could count on you. Shall we go and have a look at the place now? I can have whatever materials you need brought from Palermo in the morning.' He was suddenly all activity, hailing the waiter, paying the bill, all but running Jennie through the narrow streets to the car.
'But wait a minute, Derek—what about work? Real work, like making up Daniela,' Jennie found herself stumbling over the name. 'That begins tomorrow. I can't very well…'
Derek cut her off in mid-sentence. 'Don't worry, I'll see to all that. Meanwhile feast your eyes on this.' He took a large sumptuously illustrated volume out of the car's boot and opened it at a marked page.
Jennie took in the image: two youths with darkly hooded eyes, their bodies all but floating on an arch's curve. 'I can only try,' she reiterated.
'Good lady!' Derek seemed ready to embrace her and then stopped himself, taking her hand instead and squeezing it firmly. 'Do you think it can be done in a day?'
Jennie gulped and repeated, 'I can only try.'
Derek smiled and urged her into the car. He drove smoothly up a snaking road towards a cluster of houses set amidst olive groves. 'Here we are.' He ushered her towards one of the houses, introduced her effusively, from what Jennie could understand, to the lady of the house, who led them to an outlying building. It seemed to be a storehouse of some kind, but Jennie noted that the curves of the walls were closely reminiscent of the picture Derek had shown her.
'I've told her you're a famous English artist,' Derek whispered
to her, a chuckle in his voice. 'Who knows, perhaps I'm right, only slightly ahead of time.'
Jennie flushed and concentrated on noting the proportions of the store room. Suddenly she was itching to begin.
'Can you get that book again, Derek?' she surprised herself with her own tone of command.
He eyed her strangely. 'Do you want to start now?'
She shook her head. 'No, only get the feel of the thing.'
But when he brought the book back and turned to the relevant image, she thought she might just do a quick outline in preparation for the morrow's work. She dug into her bag for a stick of charcoal and becoming almost oblivious of the others, started to do some hasty scaling and draw rough outlines on the wall.
When she finished, she turned and noticed Derek's look of admiration. 'I knew you could do it, Jennie!' His eyes were warm on her. All at once she grew selfconscious, awkward in her movements. She struggled away from the arm he tried to place round her.
'I can't do much more, until I get proper materials.'
He nodded and led her towards the car. 'Just tell me what you need and by nine tomorrow morning it will all be waiting for you.'
Jennie slid into the car, glad that there was something particular to discuss. She was surprised to hear Derek talking of paints and washes with almost professional know-how and she looked at him curiously.
'I've done my homework,' he offered, noting her amazement and smiling at her from the blue depths of his eyes.
The atmosphere between them was suddenly easy. In a strange way they had become equals, part of a team, and Jennie found herself uttering a silent prayer that it might last.
But as they pulled up at the hotel, her heart sank. Daniela was immediately upon them.
'Where have you been, Derek? I've been looking everywhere for you!' Daniela's voice was plaintive and she gave Jennie a grudging glance as she took hold of Derek's arm possessively.
'Am I late?' Derek looked at his watch and dismissed Daniela's question.
'Giancarlo has been waiting impatiently for you to take him for a swim.'