by T A Williams
They talked some more about the film industry in general and how it worked – at times walking so close to each other that their hands almost brushed. Every time it happened, a small thrill went through Emma and she found herself peeking up at Mark to look for a sign of reaction, but his face remained infuriatingly neutral.
By the time they got back up to the hotel, the sun had almost disappeared behind the hills but there was still a delightful pinkish light all around them. Remembering her promise to Ethan back in Hollywood, Emma decided to get some shots of a suitably romantic part of the garden before it got too dark. When she explained this to Mark, he immediately offered to help.
‘What’re you looking for? A bench in a rose arbour or something of the sort?’
‘That would be perfect. Somewhere romantic, shaded, and away from prying eyes.’
‘Okay, well, why don’t you go left and I’ll go right and we’ll meet up in the middle? As far as I can see, the garden stretches all the way round the hotel.’
Emma slowly made her way through the grounds of the hotel, stopping every now and then to check out suitable spots. It was cooler now that the sun had almost disappeared and she had to weave about to avoid the sprinklers busily watering the well-tended lawns. As the bushes gave way to a flat open space, she found what she had been looking for, but she wasn’t the first to get there.
‘How about this place for a romantic setting, Emma?’
A single antique lamp illuminated a circular pond with a fine statue of a seahorse in the middle, a gentle stream of water trickling from its mouth. The sound of the fountain effectively drowned out any residual noise of traffic on the road beyond the walls and an old wooden bench positioned nearby made a perfect resting place. Sitting on the bench was Mark, looking relaxed and way too handsome surrounded by roses. He gave her a warm smile.
‘Come and see if it feels idyllic enough.’
She went across and joined him on the bench which was still warm from the last rays of the dying sun. Behind her was the hotel, ahead of her the garden with its lush vegetation and, beyond that, the flickering lights of houses dotted across the steep hillside leading inland. She leant back and exhaled.
‘This’ll do just fine. I can just imagine Emily and Robert having their very first clandestine meeting out here in the twilight, out of sight of her stern old governess.’
‘They’re the main protagonists, right? Can you tell me who’s going to be playing them in the movie?’
‘Yes, I’m not sure if it’s common knowledge yet, but they’ll be played by Ethan Dukes and Laney Travers.’
‘Wow! Big names. You guys are certainly pulling out all the stops on this one.’
‘Like I said, there’s a lot riding on this movie.’
She settled back and closed her eyes, savouring the sweet scent of roses wafting over her shoulder from the bed behind them. Yes, she thought to herself, this place certainly had romance written all over it. For a moment she fantasised about what she would do if Mark were to slip his arm behind her and lean across to kiss her, but he didn’t make a move. She sat there and mulled it over in her head. The fact that she was even taking the time to consider her reaction spoke volumes. With any other man it would have been simple. She would have told him in no uncertain terms to keep his hands to himself and that would have been that. But, for some weird reason, with Mark here tonight it was different, though she couldn’t work out why. As it was, she had to settle for his shoulder lightly brushing against hers, but even this minimal contact was enough to give her goose pimples.
‘There’s a place rather like this in my grandfather’s garden.’ His voice sounded dreamy and far away. ‘The difference is that from there you can see down across the valley to the distant lights of Gubbio on the hill on the other side. It’s a wonderful place by day and by night.’ She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her and that same inexplicable shudder went through her yet again.
‘It sounds delightful.’ For some reason she had to clear her throat before she could get her words out. Fortunately he didn’t appear to notice.
‘If our trip takes us anywhere near there, I’d like to show you that spot.’
She found herself smiling and, although he might not be able to see the smile in the darkness, she thought he should be able to hear it in her voice as she replied.
‘I’d like that, Mark. Very much.’
Chapter 7
When Emma came down for breakfast the next morning she was surprised, and impressed, to find Rich already sitting there with a coffee in front of him.
‘Hi, Rich, good night?’
‘I slept like a log. And you?’
He was definitely looking brighter and more cheerful. Whether this was just the result of a good night’s sleep or some other night-time activity was something upon which she didn’t feel like fixating. For now. Instead, she gave him a contented smile as she ordered a cappuccino and sat down.
‘Same as me, the first full night’s sleep since I arrived in Italy.’
In fact that wasn’t completely true. It had taken her quite some time to get off to sleep last night, her head filled with thoughts of the new arrival and still churning over just how he had managed to make such an impression upon her in such a short time.
She could honestly say that she had never been in love before. Yes, she had had boyfriends, yes, she had had a few flings, but there had never been any great depth to the emotions aroused by these liaisons. Although her industry revolved around the idea of romance, to her love was just as foreign as zombie invasions or gruesome murders – something that might happen to other people, but not to her. Somehow, she had always been able to look on with the eyes of a researcher or a scientist, trying to understand, but never empathising with, the complications love brought to the lives of others. And now this…?
‘Hi, guys. All well?’
Mark’s voice roused her from her reverie. She looked up to find him standing by the table in shorts and a very sweaty T-shirt, obviously just back from a run. His T-shirt clung tightly enough to his body to confirm the impression she had already gained the night before that he looked after himself. Swallowing hard, she gave him a bright smile.
‘Not as well as you, by the look of it. You’re putting us all to shame. And I was just saying to myself the other day that I had to start getting some serious exercise before all these Italian delicacies turn me into a big fat blob.’
‘Somehow I can’t imagine you ever turning into a blob.’ He was smiling back at her. ‘Well, I try to go for a run every morning. If you feel like joining me, I’d enjoy the company.’ Just as she was debating whether this constituted a sort of date, he transferred his attention to Rich and repeated the invitation. ‘And you, Rich, you look like a fit guy. Care to join us tomorrow?’
‘You know something, Mark, I reckon I will. Just come and bang on my door.’
Clearly this had not in any way been anything more than an offer to get some shared exercise, but, in spite of feeling what might have been disappointment, she was delighted to hear Rich sounding so bright. Certainly the idea of getting some exercise sounded very good, so she agreed. Besides, she told herself, romance – particularly if unrequited – was unlikely to make her lose anything like as much weight as a good run every morning.
After breakfast Marina drove them up a broad river valley away from the sea towards Dolceacqua. As she had told them, it was a short trip and they soon reached the little town. They approached it from the opposite bank of the river and saw the old town on the far side, with a mass of red-roofed houses covering the steep slopes leading up to a kind of promontory protruding from the wooded hills that surrounded the town. On top of the pyramid-shaped outcrop was a fine old castle, its twin towers gleaming in the morning sunlight. Skilfully, Marina squeezed the big vehicle across a narrow bridge over the river and found a parking space.
Together, they walked up through the tortuous lanes, lined with shops – most of them catering to the tou
rist trade – until they reached a small piazza below the castle. As they walked, Mark pointed out that the labyrinthine layout of the roads and alleys would have worked as a defensive measure to help protect the town against marauding bands of North African pirates who preyed on the coast in the early Middle Ages. The panorama over the town from high up was charming and the view from the castle itself even better. Although it had clearly been restored not many years earlier, a lot of the medieval fortress was open to the elements and the tourists.
Even at this time on a Monday morning in June, there were already numerous tourists about, and Emma could imagine how busy it was likely to get as the summer wore on. As they sat on the old castle wall, looking down onto the town and up the valley to their right towards the higher hills, they discussed the town’s merits and disadvantages. In the end, they decided that, nice as it was, the logistics of getting access to the town for a full film crew without modern-day references like road furniture or shop signs was going to be just too complicated, so, regretfully, Emma scrubbed Dolceacqua off her list.
The Hanbury Gardens, on the other hand, were charming and full of little romantic hideaways and Emma immediately recognised it as a possible location. They entered from the top, leaving the car by the side of the old Via Aurelia heading towards France, and slowly followed the winding paths down through amazing vegetation to sea level. There were cactus plants as tall as houses, sweet-scented exotic bushes, insect-eating plants, palms and numerous little pools and fountains along the way.
At one of these fountains, Emma got a surprise. As she was standing, chatting to Mark, looking at a strange, irregular statue on a plinth in the middle of the water-lily covered pool, he suddenly caught hold of her forearm. For a moment she had no idea what was happening but then she saw him point at the statue with his other hand. She followed the direction of his finger and suddenly part of the statue moved. To her amazement, she realised that what she had interpreted as a statue was in fact a cluster of terrapins, basking in the afternoon sunshine somehow perched on top of each other, and she gave a delighted laugh. If this was strange, so was the involuntary thrill Mark’s brief touch of her arm had aroused in her. Doing her best to concentrate on the matter in hand, she took some photos, made a note of the place for her report, and tried not to think of Mark and just what on earth was going on inside her head.
Just then her phone started ringing and she saw that it was Elliot, calling from the first day on the set of Sweet Memories. Her heart sank.
‘Hi, Elliot, what’s happened?’
‘Hi, Emma, I just thought you’d like to know that it’s all going fine. The director’s been here since about dawn and he says he’s very happy with everything. The set’s fully up and running, and none of the actors have baled on us. It’s all good.’
Emma heaved a massive sigh of relief, still trying to come to terms with the fact that she had completely forgotten about Sweet Memories. This was so unlike her as to be seriously disturbing. Still, all was well. ‘That’s really great to know. When I saw your number, I thought something awful had happened.’
‘I can imagine.’ She could hear what might have been sympathy in his voice. ‘Don’t worry, Emma, it’s going great. All your planning’s worked out just fine. I’m on it now, so just relax and enjoy your Italian holiday.’
‘Holiday?’ For a moment she was about to snap at him that this was very much a work trip, but then her eyes focused on the shimmering blue Mediterranean through the trees below them and the tall handsome man beside her, a gentle smile on his face. She felt her frown melt away and when she resumed the telephone conversation, her tone was far less aggressive. ‘Well, the sun’s shining and the sky’s blue here on the coast. For a work trip, it’s pretty damn good.’
Elliot must have noted her change of tone. ‘That’s the spirit, Emma, and listen, I got it here. You can relax.’
‘You know something, Elliot, I really think I can. I know you’ll be just fine. Thanks for the call. I mean that – thanks a lot.’
‘You’re very welcome.’ He sounded as relieved as she felt. As she slipped the phone back in her pocket she caught Mark’s eye. The little smile was still on his face as she walked over to him.
‘That was my replacement back in LA. Things are okay with the new movie.’
‘Were you in any doubt?’
She shrugged. ‘No… well, yes, maybe a bit. You know, stuff happens.’
‘But it hasn’t.’
She smiled back at him. ‘No, it hasn’t, so I’m a happy girl.’
‘I’m delighted for you. All your efforts paid off.’ As he spoke, he gently nudged her with his elbow.
She could still feel his touch several minutes later; it hadn’t lasted more than a second or two.
In the middle of the gardens was a fine ochre-coloured villa with blue-green shutters at the windows. Huge purple garlands of wisteria swathed the walls and the whole building was surrounded by exotic plants. A sign told them that this had been the home of Sir Thomas Hanbury over a century ago and it didn’t take much imagination to picture horse-drawn carriages passing though the arched entrance and depositing elegant ladies and gentlemen at the front door, where liveried footmen would have been waiting to usher them in for afternoon tea. This, too, made it into Emma’s report.
The views as they walked down to the sea were splendid. The sea itself was clear and transparent – light blue at the beach and darker further out. Marina pointed out that Monte Carlo was just around the next couple of headlands and, to prove her point, a series of ostentatious multi-million-dollar yachts came cruising by, their fortunate owners sunning themselves on deck as they did so. One was so large it even had its own swimming pool and helipad. There was little doubt that they were in the realm of the super-rich here. Somehow, Emma had the feeling Ethan and Laney were going to fit in just fine and enjoy themselves here.
They paused for coffee down by the shore. This part of the coast where Italy joined France was made up of inhospitable cliffs and rough, inaccessible beaches. It was virtually unpopulated, compared to Bordighera, Sanremo and the line of resorts stretching off into Italy to the east and large conurbations like Nice and Cannes on the French Côte d’Azur to the west. Down here the only engines they could hear were those of the distant luxury yachts, and the only voices were those of the visitors to the gardens. In fact, this area had clearly remained substantially unaltered since the days of Sir Thomas Hanbury and, of course, Dreaming of Italy. Emma shot off a bit of video to show just how tranquil it was and added this waterside location to her list.
As they sipped their cold drinks, they had a little council of war. Marina was keen to know where Emma wanted to head next. Emma had been flicking through the screenplay in the car and she outlined what was happening at this stage of the plot.
‘Emily’s still trying to come to terms with the fact that she feels attracted to Robert, this man she’s only just met, but her governess smells a rat and thinks it best to separate them. They take the train eastwards and somewhere along the coast they stop off at a hotel. Two or three days later they find Robert and his group of friends on a yacht in the very bay where they’re staying. So we’re going to be looking for somewhere by the water. Any ideas?’
Marina’s head tilted to the side in thought. ‘How about the Cinque Terre? Ever heard of that area?’
Emma shook her head. The translation was easy enough: Five Lands. But she had no idea where these five lands were. Mark, on the other hand, knew the area well.
‘If Italy’s shaped like a boot, the Cinque Terre region’s on the left hand side, right near the top. It’s a series of little fishing villages on a very rocky bit of coast below Genoa and there’s virtually no access by road. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site and the whole area is gorgeous. Marina’s right, it’s exactly the sort of romantic place you want for your movie.’
‘So if there’s no access by road, how do we get there? Swim?’ Rich was looking puzzled.
Mari
na laughed. ‘The railway runs right around the coast so there’s access that way or, of course, by ferry boat or, like in the movie, by private yacht. In fact, I believe it’s now actually possible to get to most of the villages by car, but it’s a struggle and parking’s a nightmare. I think it’s best if we stay a bit further up the coast in Rapallo or Santa Margherita where there are lots of hotels, and take the train along to the Cinque Terre. I’ve been to a rather nice hotel there in the past and I can check to see if they’ve got space if you like the idea. And then the following day we can head down to Tuscany.’
Emma had no hesitation. ‘Brilliant, Marina – that sounds perfect.’ She glanced across at Rich. ‘Okay with you, Rich?’
‘Fine by me, boss.’
An hour or two later, just as they were getting out of the car back at the hotel in Bordighera, Emma got another call. As she glanced at the caller ID, she was surprised to see it was none other than Ethan.
Feeling more than a little curious – they were good friends but casual phone calls weren’t really their thing – she answered the call. ‘Hi, Ethan.’
‘Oh, good, Emma, hi.’
He sounded unusually flustered and the fact that he had used her real name, rather than just calling her ‘English’, was suspicious. She decided to try to keep it light.
‘So, how you doin’?’ Ethan did the Joey accent much better than her but, even so, she saw Mark’s eyebrows raise.
‘Me, yeah, fine… Well, no, not really. Not so good.’
‘What’s the problem?’ She shot an apologetic look at the others and headed for the privacy of the hotel garden. If the world’s handsomest man was about to pour his heart out to her, she knew she had to keep it confidential. As she reached the safety of the wide front lawn, she asked him again. ‘What’s bothering you, big guy?’