by Susan Lewis
‘Not yet. Where are they?’
‘Probably still on the printer.’
Ava stood up, stretched out her long, sun-bronzed limbs, then stalked over to the edge of the pool. The sun was so dazzling it was hard to look at the water as it rippled and shimmered and reflected the sheer blue of the sky above. She was wearing nothing more than a glistening gold thong and a pair of designer shades. The hot, arid air was like a fire on her skin, embracing every part of her with an intensity that was almost erotic. She adored the sense of freedom that this near-nudity gave her, as though shedding her clothes, in a way Beth had never even dreamt of, was somehow shedding her past. A slow smile started to curve her lips as she realized Mitzi was watching her and, putting her hands on her hips, she pivoted to treat her to a full-frontal view.
Mitzi’s eyebrows arched with amusement. ‘Gorgeous,’ she assured her. ‘I can’t even see any scars already.’
‘You know, one of the best things about them,’ Ava said, cupping her new breasts in her hands, ‘is how sexy they make you feel, never mind look. It’s a whole other world, having boobs like this.’ She smiled warmly to herself, wanting to add how Colin would love them. But they never spoke about him, so the thought stayed with her.
‘Did you tell Theo yet?’ Mitzi asked.
Ava looked surprised. ‘No. Why would I? I can’t imagine he’d be interested.’
Mitzi shrugged. ‘He’s a strange guy, isn’t he? I’ve known him for a couple of years, but I still can’t say I know him. I thought he might be gay until I found out he had a wife and kid. Not that that means anything, I suppose, and they’re not together any more anyhow, so maybe he is.’
Wading down to the first wide shallow step of the pool, Ava sat on the edge and began splashing water on to her skin. ‘So what have we got going on tonight?’ she said.
Mitzi yawned and stretched. ‘Couple of parties,’ she answered. ‘A few of the guys are dropping in to watch the sun set. I guess we need to mix a pitcher of margatinis for that.’
Ava slipped into the water and started to swim, carving a slow, smooth path through the water, feeling its coolness glide over her like a loving caress. This was truly paradise, and right now she could feel in love with Theo just for bringing her here.
Mitzi sat on the lounger watching her, and wondering what was really going through her mind. It was hard to tell with Ava, for she’d never met such an unusual woman, and rarely taken to one so warmly. As a writer Mitzi was fascinated by the contradictions of her character, which went way beyond her change of name and altered look, for she was an introvert who was an exhibitionist, a chameleon who seemed to thrive on being noticed. She almost never talked about her life in England; it was as though the husband who was in prison for murder had ceased to exist. There were no letters, no phone calls, no pining or longing, or none that she ever confessed to. As far as Mitzi was aware she hadn’t spoken to her parents since being here either, though she had some, because Mitzi had read about them in one of the articles she’d dug out during her research. She hadn’t even returned the calls from her agent – or her closest friend, Georgie, whose messages were starting to sound so worried that Mitzi was considering ringing back herself, just to reassure the poor woman that Beth, as she called her, was alive and well and having a ball.
And she was having a ball. She was like a spirit that had been trapped in the wrong body, the wrong time, for so long that now she was free everything had to be experienced to the extreme. She was Carlotta in her book, Mitzi was certain of that, though how similarly the fiction resembled reality she had no way of knowing. She hadn’t asked, because Ava had made it clear from the start that she wasn’t Carlotta, that the book had nothing to do with her life, it was just a story.
‘I know I’ve said this before, but you’ve got a really cool way of describing Carlotta’s feelings,’ Mitzi said, after Ava had finished her swim, and gone into the house to retrieve the new scenes.
Ava’s pleasure showed as she lay down on her lounger. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘All that stuff she’s thinking,’ Mitzi continued, ‘you know, about who she is, and what she’s doing in a place she doesn’t understand. It really gets to me every time I read it. It goes right to the heart of loneliness, in a way that’s so raw and uncompromising … I’ll have to put it in narration, because I sure don’t want to leave it out. Did you ever try any of that regression stuff yourself? You know, going back to a past life? Was that how you got the idea?’
Ava shook her head. ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I just found while I was writing it that Carlotta needed to become someone else – someone who was her, but not her, if you know what I mean. Then one morning I was listening to a programme on the radio about past lives, and their effect on the present, and I thought, that’s it! That’s what’s happening to Carlotta. All the marital abuse, and emotional repression she’s suffering in the eighteenth century, the way all those corrupt and powerful men in her husband’s circle turn him into a monster, is setting the scene for her eventual breakdown in the twenty-first century.’
‘Wow,’ Mitzi murmured. ‘That’s so cool. And it really works. And I just love how the husband comes good second time around, the way he wakes up to who she really is.’ She chuckled. ‘I’ve got to admit, if you hadn’t told me yourself, I’d still be in the dark over some of that. All those men, that poor, wretched girl, the one who died, so innocent in it all … the sacrificial lamb.’ She hesitated, wondering if she’d gone too far, but Ava’s expression was benign, so she said, ‘I’d love to know what gave you the inspiration for Carlotta in the first place.’
Ava inhaled deeply, writhed a little, then, sitting up, she gazed out at the mountains, seeing them as though they were the hills surrounding a far distant place that she loved. ‘I was in Italy, on holiday,’ she said. ‘Do you know the lakes?’
Mitzi shook her head. ‘Never been to Europe.’
‘Well, the lakes in Northern Italy are a very special kind of place. They’re not just steeped in natural beauty, the mountains, the trees, the lakes themselves, of course, they seem to hold a sense of mystery, and an enticement, or maybe it’s a challenge, to find out their secrets. One day I was visiting an old house, on the south-eastern shore of Lake Maggiore, and I came across a small painting of a woman sitting at a piano with a half-written musical score on the stand. She was looking out, towards the artist in a mournful, yet slightly surprised sort of way. The only words on the unfinished score were Carlotta Gaspari. I couldn’t find out anything about her, if the name was even hers, but the longer I stared into her eyes the more I realized I was seeing, even feeling, things about her life that felt as though they were a part of my life too. There was this kind of synergy that went beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. I could almost hear her speaking to me, which I know sounds crazy, but I swear that was what it was like. I even felt tears on my cheeks when I sensed she’d lost a child, because I’d recently lost one too. I stood there absorbing terrible details of her pain, not only about the child, but about the husband she adored, who loved her, yet beat and humiliated her, and the dreadful loneliness she felt at having no one to turn to. Have you ever been beaten by a man?’
‘Once,’ Mitzi confessed. ‘What about you?’
Ava shook her head. ‘Never,’ she answered. ‘Yet, when I was looking at that woman, Carlotta, I truly felt as though I had been. I honestly don’t know what happened to make me connect with her like that, but by the time I left I knew that I had to write something about her. Even if I had to fictionalize most of the story, I just had to tell it.’
‘Have you ever been back to see the portrait?’ Mitzi asked.
‘No. To be honest, I’m almost afraid to, in case she’s gone, or doesn’t speak to me again. I’d feel as though I’d lost a part of myself if that happened.’ Then smiling, she said, ‘If she is still there you’ll meet her when we go to film.’
‘Sure,’ Mitzi responded, drawing out the word. ‘And what a pr
ivilege having you make the introduction. After all, whoever she was once, she’s your creation now.’
Ava nodded slowly, but said nothing.
‘What about the husband, did you kind of, like, see him at all?’ Mitzi asked. ‘You know, while Carlotta was talking to you?’
‘Not really,’ Ava answered. ‘Images of my own kept getting in the way.’
‘Is there any similarity between the two men?’
‘Maybe. In certain ways. But not all.’
Mitzi waited, hoping she’d say more, but she didn’t. So Mitzi said, ‘You know, I’m going to talk to Theo, because I reckon we should be over there now, writing this in the place that inspired it, and where we’re going to shoot. I could experience all the atmosphere and stuff for myself. It’s got to help.’
Ava smiled and nodded, then picked up the script as the phone inside started to ring.
Mitzi was intrigued by the way Ava seemed to tune out the sound, as though it either wasn’t happening, or couldn’t be anything to do with her. ‘You know what, that could be your friend Georgie,’ she said. ‘She generally calls around this time.’
Ava’s eyes remained on the script.
‘Why don’t you go talk to her?’ Mitzi pressed gently. ‘She sounds really worried about you. Just tell her you’re OK.’
Ava continued staring at the script, but Mitzi could see her eyes filling with tears.
‘What is it, babe?’ she said softly. ‘Why won’t you talk to her?’
‘Actually, I’m afraid to,’ Ava answered, not sounding like Ava at all.
‘Why?’
‘Because of what she might tell me.’
Inside the answerphone clicked on. Mitzi sat very still, as though any slight movement would chase away the confidence that, like a frightened mouse, was hardly out of hiding.
‘I want to talk to her,’ Ava said. ‘I miss her so much, and I know she’s worried …’
‘What are you so afraid of?’ Mitzi prompted. ‘What do you think she’s going to tell you that can be so bad?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve given up guessing, because it’s never what I’m expecting.’ Her eyes were on an unfocused place ahead of her, seeing only she knew what. ‘And what if he’s changed his mind about seeing me?’ she said. ‘Should I go? Or should I stay here, and let him pay for what he’s done? All the hurt he’s caused, the pain and anguish … that poor innocent girl, the sacrificial lamb.’
On hearing her own words Mitzi again went very still, for this was as clear an admission as any that the book in some way did reflect real life. ‘So are you saying he killed her because he was made to?’ she said.
At that Ava seemed to break out of the hush and turned to look at her. ‘You’re talking about the book,’ she said.
‘Isn’t it one and the same thing?’
‘No. But they think it is.’
‘Who’s they?’
She shook her head. ‘Never mind. You’re right. I should talk to Georgie. I need to. There might be a message.’
Not sure whether she meant on the machine or from her husband, Mitzi watched her get up and walk into the house. For some reason she wasn’t surprised when Ava wrapped herself in a thin cotton robe before picking up the phone.
‘Georgie? It’s me. How are you?’ she said when Georgie’s voice came down the line.
‘Beth! For heaven’s sake. How are you? I’ve been going out of my mind over here. The only reason I know you’re still alive is because I managed to track down your producer, what’s his name? Theo. Are you all right? Oh my God, I think I’m going to cry with relief. Just tell me, are you all right?’
‘I’m better than that,’ Ava laughed. ‘So much better I hardly know where to start. I’m really sorry you’ve been so worried. I kept meaning to call, but the time was always wrong – the middle of the night for you, or during working hours for me and Mitzi. But here I am now, and guess what.’
‘I don’t know, tell me? Have you fallen in love?’
Ava gave a shout of laughter. ‘You’re such a romantic! No, I haven’t fallen in love, except with myself. I’m Ava all the time now. You’re the only one who calls me Beth, and you should see me, Georgie. Even if I say it myself, I look fantastic.’
‘So what’s new? Ava always did. It was only Beth who insisted on making herself dowdy.’
‘Yes, but even Ava’s never been this gorgeous before. She has – I have … Georgie, I have breasts. You should see them. They’re like … What are they like? A Playboy centrefold and some. They’re out of this world.’
‘What do you mean?’ Georgie said, sounding confused and not entirely thrilled. ‘Are you saying you’ve had some kind of surgery?’
Ava laughed. ‘Well, they didn’t grow overnight on their own,’ she said. ‘Of course I’ve had surgery. Everyone does out here. I’m starting to live now, and I love it.’
‘Big breasts and you get a life,’ Georgie said cynically. ‘You’d have hated that once.’
‘Because I didn’t have them,’ Ava laughed. ‘I was jealous, and now I don’t need to be. I’ve also got fuller lips. Not that big, but enough to make me look ten years younger, and all kind of pouty and sexy. It’s amazing the difference it makes. I could –’
‘Beth, I have to tell you,’ Georgie interrupted, ‘I’m not sure I approve of this. I mean colouring your hair and changing the way you dress is one thing, having actual surgery –’
‘Georgie, it’s fine. Honestly. It’s just the way things are out here. It’s another world. It’s hot so people naturally don’t wear many clothes. That means they want their bodies to look good, and this is a way of doing it.’
‘But you’re not one of them.’
‘I am while I’m here. Now, let’s change the subject. How’s little Blake?’
There was a brief pause before Georgie said, ‘He’s great. Four new teeth and he’s got a girlfriend called Miranda.’ Then reverting straight back to Beth, she said, ‘How’s the script going? Do you think you’ll be there much longer?’
‘It’s hard to say. But there’s a chance we might relocate to Italy. If we do, I hope you’ll join us for a long weekend, at the very least.’
The smile was audible in Georgie’s voice as she said, ‘Try to keep me away. When’s it likely to be?’
‘I don’t know. We’ve got to talk to Theo about it first.’
‘By we, I take it you mean you and Mitzi. So what’s she like?’
‘Not you, but great. We party a lot, which is a kind of subculture here, because most people are in bed by ten. The rest of us keep it going through the early hours …’
‘Through the early hours? You’re sounding like an American.’
‘I hope so. Honestly, I can’t stress how much I love it here. The people are so warm and friendly. They all belong to spiritual groups and say happy and positive things to each other. Whether or not they mean them, God only knows, the fact is they say them with a passion and frequency that’s supposed to make it true.’
‘Your agent’s rung here a few times, by the way,’ Georgie said. ‘Apparently you haven’t had time to call him either.’
‘I keep meaning to, but it’s just been so hectic.’
‘I think you should call him.’
‘OK. I will.’
Georgie waited, giving her the chance to say more about that, or to ask about Colin, but once again Ava was gushing about the superior qualities of the LA scene. In the end, Georgie plunged right in and said, ‘What about Colin? Are you interested to hear what’s happening to him?’
There was a beat before Ava said, ‘You don’t have to say it like that. You know I am. You should also know that I’m afraid of it too. I mean, how would you feel if every time something happened a woman was dead, or some bastard child –’
‘All right, point taken and I’m sorry. I suppose I just find it odd that you haven’t bothered to find out anything about him at all.’
‘What has he bothered to find out about me?’
Ava cried.
‘He asks about you every time Bruce sees him. He wants to know if you’re all right. If you’re happy. What’s happening in LA. So what are we supposed to tell him?’
‘That I’ve got big tits, a great house and a fantastic social life.’
Georgie was silent.
‘Well, what do you want me to say?’ Ava implored. ‘He doesn’t want to see me. He won’t write; he doesn’t send any messages. All I get is a letter telling me if he gets out he’s going to live with another woman.’
‘That might be true, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you any more.’
‘I don’t want him to care about me. I don’t need his pity. I’ve got my own life now.’
‘Beth …’
‘For God’s sake, Georgie, how much more of this do you think I can take? It’s hard enough having a husband where he is for the murder of a poor young girl, who was some kind of sacrificial lamb –’
‘Some kind of what?’ Georgie said.
‘Sacrificial lamb. It’s the way Mitzi described her, and she’s right. That’s what Sophie Long was, a sacrificial lamb.’
‘What are you saying?’ Georgie said. ‘What’s that supposed to mean exactly?’
‘Ask Colin. He’ll be able to explain it.’
‘I’d like to hear it from you.’
‘No. Ask him. Or read the book, then ask Marcus Gatling.’ She laughed brittly. ‘I didn’t tell you about that, did I?’ she said. ‘Would you believe I bumped into dear Marcus and Leonora on the plane coming over here? We had a bit of a scene, actually. The old cod almost had an apoplexy when I told him there was new evidence to say Colin didn’t do it. You should have seen his face. And when I told him his secrets might not be safe with me I thought he was going to explode.’
There was a beat before Georgie said, ‘What secrets?’
Ava laughed. ‘That’s what he’s wondering,’ she responded.
‘Beth, he’s not someone to mess with,’ Georgie warned. ‘You know that, so just steer clear of him, is my advice.’
‘Which I’ll happily take.’
There was another short silence before Georgie said, ‘So do you know things about him?’