by Susan Lewis
The following morning she woke at five with such chronic pains in her stomach that by the time John got up for the dawn call she knew she wasn’t going to be able to move very far for a while. Of course, this was Africa, and since half the unit had already suffered it was unreasonable to expect that it wouldn’t afflict her, but she could have wished it had happened to her earlier, when the schedule wasn’t so fraught – and when she wasn’t sharing a room with John. However, with such a hectic day ahead, he didn’t hang around any longer than it took to shower, kiss her, and tell her he was in control, before leaving her to collapse back into bed the very second the door closed behind him.
At lunch time, after a morning spent on the phone and computer dealing with her own affairs, Avril picked up her bag and sunglasses and was about to go and check on Carla when Frazer told her that the unit had broken half an hour ago, and if she wanted to eat she should go right away.
‘It’s only a forty-five-minute lunch today,’ he said, ‘so I don’t know how much food’s going to be left. It’s fish or pasta. I can recommend the fish. And don’t worry, I’ve already checked with Carla, she was very definite about not wanting anything.’
Avril laughed. ‘So she’s still laid up, is she? How’s it all going down on the beach?’
‘OK,’ Frazer answered. ‘We’re moving like lightning, so there’s a chance we’ll make it, but I wouldn’t put a great deal on it. By the way, the photographer dropped in his contacts this morning, if you want to take a look at them.’
‘I most certainly do,’ she responded. ‘I’ll stop by later,’ and, slipping on her sunglasses, she sauntered on along the path, then down to the beach. Its beauty was slightly marred by the stray limbs of equipment strewn about the sand, and casually dumped holdalls, shoes and drinks that clearly belonged to those who were catching a few rays, or splashing about in the waves.
‘Hey, Avril,’ Phoebe called out.
Shielding her eyes, Avril peered through the brilliant sunshine and found Phoebe strolling towards her, still made up as a slave girl, though with a red and blue crêpe sundress covering the rags of her costume.
‘Can we count on you to boost our numbers tonight?’ Phoebe said, joining her. ‘We’re having a little party in the bar to celebrate the end of shoot, even though some of the guys are going to be out doing night shots.’
‘Sure, I’ll be there,’ Avril answered, walking on towards the dining gazebo. ‘So who’s out with the camera?’
‘I think only John, Kit, an electrician and a driver. How’s Carla? Any chance she might join us?’
‘Since it’s the last night I doubt she’ll miss it, no matter how bad she’s feeling,’ Avril responded, her mouth starting to water as she caught wind of the food. ‘Do you see Gus anywhere?’ she added, looking around the gazebo. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting … Ah, there he is. God, who could miss that sunburned face? The man could stop traffic. Ah well, see you later,’ and off she went to join him.
‘So, how are you?’ she asked, sitting down in the chair he was holding out for her. ‘Apart from the face, I mean.’
‘It looks worse than it is,’ he responded. ‘And the rest of me is in your debt, as ever.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, it’s thanks to you I’m here,’ he reminded her, returning to his own chair and sweeping a hand out towards the horizon. ‘It certainly beats being in London at this time of year.’
‘I wouldn’t argue with that,’ she said, as a waiter filled her glass from a carafe of chilled white wine. Then to Gus, ‘So did you manage to get an interview with John yet?’
‘Half an interview,’ he answered. ‘We’re doing the rest on the plane tomorrow. Have you decided where you want me to go with the article, when it’s done?’
‘Mm,’ she nodded, picking up the menu to find out how the pasta and fish were being served. ‘I’ve drawn up a list. We need it in print by the end of the month, because that’s when the first series starts repeating.’ Having made her decision, she put the menu down and took a crusty roll from the basket. ‘Now, do we have Rosa sorted out?’ she asked, breaking the roll open.
‘We do,’ he confirmed. ‘It’s all written up. I can let you have a copy as soon as we get back to England, unless there’s a way of printing it out here.’
‘There is, in the production office,’ she said. ‘I’d like to see it before we leave. Have you told her anything?’
‘No. I thought you wanted to do that.’
‘Oh, I do,’ she responded with relish. ‘She’s going to regret the day the word drugs ever passed her lips.’ After eating a morsel of bread, she dusted the crumbs from her fingers, saying, ‘So, that’s done, and again, thanks for coming to us before going to print.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Now, I expect you’re dying to expose the new love affair.’
Chuckling, he said, ‘You’re not going to be able to keep this one under wraps, Avril.’
‘Of course not,’ she agreed. ‘But it would be good to see it told with some delicacy and truth, rather than the usual bullshit and scandal.’
‘So you don’t want me mentioning anything about him going off to her room in his sultan’s gear like he did just now, or making lewd suggestions about her belonging to his harem?’
Raising an eyebrow, she said, ‘I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all, because we both know that not many relationships fare well in the spotlight. But being a realist I’m prepared to accept that in this case it’s unavoidable. So, in the hope of lessening the damage, I’m going to ask them to give you an exclusive, provided you give us copy approval.’
‘I’ve never worked for you without giving you approval,’ he grumbled. ‘You’re a control freak, and you know it. But how do you know someone like Rosa hasn’t already contacted one of their chums back in London to give them the story?’
‘I don’t. But believe me, if anything had hit the papers already, or was even about to, I’d know. And Rosa’s less of a problem than you think, or she will be once I’ve had a chat with her.’
His eyes sparkled with delight. ‘You’re not a woman to be crossed, Avril Hayden,’ he told her.
‘And don’t you forget it,’ she responded, picking up her wine.
He was laughing. ‘OK, getting back to the lovers … No, maybe we’d better change the subject, because here they are and they could be heading this way.’
Turning to see Carla and John strolling along the beach with Kit Kingsley, Avril waited to catch Carla’s eye and waved her over. ‘How’re you feeling?’ she asked.
‘Better,’ Carla answered, picking up Avril’s water and drinking it.
‘Have you eaten?’
‘No. But I might join you for coffee. I just need a quick word with John before they start setting up in the foyer.’
She caught up with him already on his way to the set with Kit and Hugo, and, falling into step with them, she listened to their discussion of the numerous costume and lighting changes that had to be got through by the end of the day.
‘Do you think we’re going to make it?’ she asked him.
‘We might,’ he answered.
She turned to Frazer, who’d just joined them. ‘Did you calculate the cost of shooting again in the morning?’ she asked.
‘Yes. It’ll put us way over.’
‘I thought so,’ she murmured. ‘But we have to get these night shots, and if we don’t finish the foyer scenes this afternoon …’
‘We should start looking at more cuts,’ John told her.
‘I know,’ she responded. ‘But let me go over the figures first. I’ll be in the production office if you need me.’
A few minutes later, having seen first hand the prohibitive cost of an overrun, she sent a message to John informing him that the penultimate scene should be cut altogether, and if he could, he should reduce the number of set-ups for the rest of the day. She was on her way to inform costume and make-up of the imminent changes, when Yale stopped her to ask if the rumours were true that
they were shooting tomorrow and might not get back to England until Monday.
‘It’s going to give me a big problem if it is true,’ he said. ‘I’m due to fly to Vancouver on Sunday to start a movie.’
‘We’ll finish today,’ Carla assured him, guessing Rosa was being her usual helpful self in spreading the rumour. Then, spotting Frazer hurtling off to the set, she collared him and got him to go to make-up and wardrobe, while she went to drag Jaffah out of the shade of a tree he was sitting under with the drivers. ‘Did you check about the drugs?’ she asked, taking him aside so they couldn’t be overheard.
‘Oh yes, yes,’ he assured her. ‘No drugs. Nothing. But like I tell Mr Gus, the reporter, Sudi and Jumaane, they roll own cigarettes. Maybe someone make the mistake …’
‘It’s possible,’ Carla said. ‘Just as long as there’s nothing illegal going on.’
‘No. Nothing illegal. You have Jaffah’s word.’
She smiled. ‘OK. If I have your word, then I won’t worry any more.’
Obviously pleased by the compliment he said, ‘No need worry. Jaffah in control. No-one take drugs.’
‘Good.’ She hesitated a moment, then, deciding it probably wouldn’t take long, she said, ‘I want to ask you about Chrissie again. Are you absolutely certain she was here alone when she came?’
‘She definitely alone,’ he responded earnestly. ‘I meet her from plane. I stay with her all time, and I take her back to plane. She even eat dinner with me and my wife some nights. We take good care of her. We like her very much.’
Carla was completely baffled, for Richard had specifically said that he and Chrissie had thought this trip would give them some freedom, so if he’d been here, how could Jaffah not have seen him? ‘I’m asking,’ she said, ‘because someone I know, a man, says he was here with her.’
Jaffah was obviously confused. ‘I not see how possible,’ he said, starting to sound upset. ‘She give me money at end of trip, I pay hotel bills, so I know no-one in rooms either, just her.’
‘It’s OK,’ Carla said, keeping him calm. ‘It’s probably just a misunderstanding.’
Seeming a little happier with that, he took himself back to the others, while Carla, still disturbed by the mystery, started towards the front of the hotel, where the electricians were rigging for the next shot. She stopped to speak to them, wanting to know if the extra gels had been used. Satisfied that they had, she skirted round the side of the hotel to where the admin offices were hidden amongst the tasselled green foliage of casuarina trees. Either Richard or Jaffah was lying, they had to be, though why either of them would was totally beyond her, unless, of course, Richard had paid Jaffah to keep his trip here a secret, and had forgotten to let Jaffah off the hook. It didn’t seem very likely, but it was the best she could come up with, unless Paola could shed some more light on matters.
‘No, there was no-one here with Chrissie,’ Paola said, frowning curiously, when Carla asked her. ‘Only Jaffah, but of course he didn’t stay at the hotel.’
So it had to be Richard who was lying. But why? His being here, or not, hardly made a difference all this time later, and besides, wouldn’t it be more reasonable to lie about not being here, rather than the way it was now? Maybe she should read the rest of his email, see if it explained the puzzle, though it would have to wait. Right now she had more pressing issues to deal with, like making sure they finished today, and the wretched nausea that continued coming over her in waves.
A few minutes later she walked into the hotel’s main foyer to find it crowded and totally transformed into the inner chambers of a harem. Two eunuchs stood where before there had been lamps; chaises longues replaced the Indian sofas; elaborate draperies covered the bare walls; and several fountains sparkled where ferns had formerly been displayed. The women – or Sarari as they were correctly called – were extras who’d been cast locally, and dressed in the exquisite brocaded silks and muslin that Jackie had brought with her, and had very cleverly stitched and pinned to make look like the genuine article. Since they were the Sultan’s wives, Carla was already preparing to tease John later about just how very young and lovely some of them were.
Right now, she merely listened as he talked everyone through what was needed.
‘… so this is the summer residence,’ he was saying. ‘We’ve done the establishing wide shot of how the foyer looks today, so when the electricians are done we’ll start positioning you, and walking you through your moves. There’s no dialogue in this sequence, it’s simply the closing shot of the drama sketch, which I’ll lay over the establisher in the edit, then fade out all of us in our costumes, as though bringing the palace into modern times. So it’s going to be crucial that you all hit your spots. Did you call Angelica?’ he said, glancing over his shoulder to Hugo. ‘We’ll need her in about an hour.’
‘Done,’ Hugo confirmed.
‘OK. So give the guys, how long, Kit?’
‘Just a couple more minutes,’ Kit answered, from halfway up a ladder.
Knowing that meant at least five, John said, ‘Where’s Phoebe?’
‘In her suite,’ Hugo answered.
‘Then get her over here. We need her for the rehearsal.’ As he finished speaking he was starting to smile, for he’d just spotted Carla standing off to one side, in front of the billiard-room niche.
‘Are you OK?’ he said, going over to her.
‘More or less,’ she answered. ‘Have you reduced the number of set-ups?’
‘Yep. I don’t think there’s so much danger of an overrun now. But it’ll be tight.’
‘We have to be on that flight tomorrow,’ she told him, ‘because there’s simply not enough time to renegotiate the deal with the airline, even if we could.’
‘I hear you,’ he responded. Then, after glancing around to make sure everything was going to plan, he eased her slightly back into the niche and said, ‘Are you sure you’re feeling OK? You look pretty pale to me.’
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘Maybe you should carry me off to your harem,’ she suggested. ‘That would make me feel better.’
Laughing, he said, ‘How about if I kiss you? Would that help?’
‘No-one’s stopping you,’ she teased, tilting her head to one side.
‘Except a producer with a schedule to meet.’
Standing on tiptoe she whispered in his ear, then laughed as he groaned. ‘How does that make you feel?’ she said.
‘What do you think?’
She spoke softly again, then watched his eyes close as he started to laugh, and ignored whoever was calling his name.
‘I hope you’re going to live up to that,’ he told her.
‘What time are you leaving for the night shoot?’
‘Eight, I think, and we’re due to wrap here at six thirty, and you, tyrannical producer that you are, have just made sure that I hit that six-thirty deadline, cos no way am I out of here tonight without making you go through with that promise,’ and, throwing up his hands, he shouted, ‘All right, I’m coming!’
‘No, it’s OK,’ Frazer said, appearing round the corner. ‘I’ve got your mobile here. It’s Karen. She needs to speak to you urgently.’
Carla’s eyes moved back to John’s face, and her heart turned over when she saw how alarmed he suddenly looked. Grabbing the phone he began striding away. ‘Karen? Is everything OK?’ she heard him say.
She looked at Frazer, for a moment too bewildered even to think, then Frazer said he was going back to the production office, which was where she should go now. Her legs felt slightly leaden, and she seemed disoriented, as she asked herself why this woman was calling him here, and what had made him look like that when he’d heard her name?
‘Do you know Karen?’ a voice said behind her.
Carla spun round to find Rosa right there.
‘Karen? His wife?’ Rosa said.
Carla’s head started to reel, as everything around her seemed to slip out of focus.
Rosa was smiling. ‘She
’s an absolute saint,’ she said warmly. ‘But I suppose she needs to be considering the kind of life she leads. I went to drama school with her, back in the Seventies. She had an amazing talent. Everyone said so. But she never pursued her career, not after she met John. I went to their wedding, oh God, when was it? Must have been about twelve years ago now. They were so close … Well, they still are. He’s so protective of her. I was over there just before we came out here …’
‘Aren’t you needed on the set?’ Carla suddenly broke in.
Rosa glanced over her shoulder. ‘Oh! I think I am,’ she responded, and with a jaunty little shrug she slid off into the chaos.
Going straight down to the beach Carla walked over to the gazebo where Avril was still sitting with Gus and said, ‘Can you excuse us please, Gus? I need to talk to Avril alone.’
‘Of course,’ he said, jumping up. ‘I’ll take my coffee with me …’
He was barely out of the gazebo before Carla snapped, ‘I take it you haven’t dealt with Rosa yet?’
‘I was waiting until she’d finished shooting,’ Avril answered. ‘What’s going on? Sit down, will you? You look terrible.’
‘Did you know John was married?’ Carla blurted, hardly able to believe she was saying it.
‘What?’ Avril cried. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not married!’
‘So who’s Karen?’
‘Karen who?’
‘I don’t know. She calls him all the time … Here. At the office …’ Her voice faltered, but forcing herself on, she said, ‘She’s on the phone now, and from the way he took the call it was plainly obvious that she’s someone who matters.’
‘That doesn’t make her his wife,’ Avril pointed out. ‘But OK, obviously someone’s told you she is. Who?’