Anna looked puzzled. ‘Of course.’
‘What about us having our own tennis party – mixed doubles, or men against the women and maybe singles?’ Rosemary was quite excited.
Anna too was enthusiastic.
‘That would be good.’
Without further ado the girls set a time.
‘We’d better book the court now. First session in your name, second in ours. That should be enough, don’t you think?’ Anna put her head to one side.
As she and Rosemary made towards the front desk, Biff and Konrad looked at each other.
‘Well, it seems our day is already decided for us.’ Konrad smiled. ‘Do you like tennis?’
Biff grinned. ‘If I’m playing with Anna and Rosemary, yes.’
Konrad slapped him on the back.
‘That’s true. I’ll see you in the morning then, at whatever time these wives of ours have decided.’
With that he started up the stairs.
‘Tell Anna not to wake me up,’ he called over his shoulder, winking.
The best tactical player was Rosemary. Anna was more athletic. Biff and Konrad were aggressive; stronger, but essentially wilder. Rosemary and Biff just got their nose ahead in the final match.
They crashed into the chairs beside the court.
Biff caught the attention of a waiter, who came over to them from the striped refreshment tent that the hotel had set up on the lawn for the season.
‘May we have a big bottle of water; senza gaz, and cordials for everybody?’
Konrad waved his arm. ‘I would also like a large glass of beer please, and …’ He added something in German.
The waiter chuckled, shot a glance at Biff as he went off.
‘What did you say to him?’ asked Rosemary.
Konrad grinned and looked slyly at Biff.
‘I only said to make sure the beer was cold, not like my English friend would like it.’
Immediately Biff sat upright, snorting.
‘What utter rubbish. All the light stuff you drink has to be cold – it’s tasteless. We brew real beer.’
‘Ja – warm beer.’
Konrad was grinning from ear to ear.
Biff shook his head.
‘It’s not warm, it’s room temperature, the way it’s supposed to be drunk so that you can get the full flavour of the hops. You don’t chill red wine, do you?’
Shaking his head Konrad held up his hands in mock surrender.
‘You win, you win.’
They lapsed into comfortable silence.
The waiter returned, effortlessly carrying a very large tray in one hand, and without setting it down, dispensed four cordials, then the water, and placing, last of all, a very large glass of beer in front of Konrad.
Rosemary exclaimed: ‘Gosh, are you going to drink all of that?’
Konrad pulled himself upright and reached for the glass.
‘Very easily, my dear.’
They watched as he started drinking, the level of beer slowly going down until the by now horizontal glass showed empty, just foam sliding down its side as he set it back on to the table.
‘Konrad!’
Anna shook her head and said to them. ‘He still plays these silly drinking games they have in the Navy.’
Her husband wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
‘No, no, we don’t do things like that.’
He winked at Biff. ‘I learned that at my daddy’s knee in Munich, at the Oktoberfest.’
Anna shook her head.
‘He may have, but believe me, I’ve seen him next day after some dinner or other in the mess and I know he’s been up to no good.’
Konrad looked at Biff for support.
‘Come now, Biff,’ he implored, ‘tell my bossy wife that you have celebration nights in your Air Force.’
Biff hadn’t really had much experience with such things yet, but he knew of their wild reputation, especially after the brass had withdrawn. Mark you, they had had their moments in the training squadron.
He smiled at Anna.
‘Of course, we all do it, makes for esprit de corps.’
Konrad took out a cigar from his tennis bag and offered it to Biff who shook his head. ‘There you are, Anna,’ exclaimed Konrad. ‘Good for you, Biff.’
Anna looked to Rosemary for support.
Rolling their eyes they raised their glasses to each other in mutual agreement at the childishness of men.
After they had sat talking, and had long finished their drinks, Rosemary stood up, smoothing down her white skirt.
‘Right, I’m off for a shower and a lie-down. You coming, Biff?’
As he rose they all did, and made their way back to the hotel, rackets over shoulders.
Rosemary led the way up the stairs. ‘See you in the bar at seven, then? Whoever is first gets the champagne going.’
Inside their rooms Rosemary propped the tennis racket in its wooden press near the door. She went to the dressing-table in the bedroom and released her blonde hair, shaking her head to free it.
She unbuttoned her skirt, let it drop and stepped out of it as she unbuttoned and pulled her blouse off, leaving her in her camiknickers.
It was very hot, despite the ceiling fan in the bedroom, and after the walk up from the gardens she was perspiring.
Biff couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was still quite shocking being so casually in close proximity to a woman in her underwear, particularly a good-looking one like Rosemary.
In all his previous life he’d never so much as seen his sister in anything but her bedrobe.
Once some boys at school had got hold of a very daring fashion magazine from Paris. Inside there had been photos of models in lingerie. They had all savoured the word, practising their best French so that even the French mistress would have approved. There was even some speculation as to what she wore beneath her formal grey suit and black gown; after all, she was really French.
But now, here was his wife, after only a few days of marriage, unashamedly undressing before him and parading about completely unconcerned. And he had thought she would be the shy one: everybody had said to be gentle and considerate!
She drew on her silk dressing-gown, quite aware of his interest and pleaded: ‘I really do need to rest, darling.’
Biff jumped. ‘Sorry.’
As she passed him she stretched up and gave him a peck on the cheek.
‘Don’t be – I like it.’
At six o’clock they started dressing for dinner – or rather, Rosemary did. He sat out on the balcony in his striped dressinggown, smoking a cigarette and sipping a cognac.
The sun was low in the sky, the slopes of Vesuvius turning a hazy purple in the humidity.
Far off, in the slate-blue waters the grey shape of a cruiser, its menacing form somewhat softened by bunting was slipping towards Naples dockyard, shadowed by two destroyers.
Nearer, the paddle steamer was coming back from Capri, its two red funnels billowing black smoke, its white wake curving away as it turned in from its journey up the coast. And everywhere were the red and white sails of the local fishermen.
Beneath him the harbour was full of pleasure boats and crowds of excited chattering families walking up the hill into the town.
He finished his Craven A, stood up and went back into the room through the open french doors. Rosemary was at the dressing-table in her petticoat, using a powder puff on her creamy white shoulders.
‘Ah, just in time to help me with my frock.’
She stood up and went to the massive wardrobe, her image flashing in the mirror on the door as she opened it. She took out a full-length dress, slipped the material off the padded hanger and stepped into it, pulling it up and pushing her arms through the sleeves.
‘Fix it for me, darling.’
When he’d done so she turned around, eyes gleaming.
‘Do you like it?’
The shot-silk peacock-blue material shimmered in the light, fitting he
r tightly until, just at the knees, it flared gently out.
The neckline was folded and swagged from shoulder to shoulder. Her blonde, straight hair was combed to one side, held by a diamond clip, with matching pendant earrings.
He shook his head in wonderment.
‘You look magnificent.’
She beamed. ‘Thank you.’ She gave him a suggestive look. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere – later.’
It didn’t take him long to change. He did his black tie up and drew on his dinner jacket, checking for his gunmetal cigarette case and wallet. He called out ‘Right, ready.’
Rosemary gave a last puff of scent to her neck, picked up her beaded evening bag and joined him at the door.
When they entered the bar they saw Konrad and Anna by the white grand piano. The black pianist was playing and singing in his soft tenor voice.
They made their way over. Konrad looked up, caught sight of them first.
He was also in a dinner jacket, his blond hair contrasting with the blackness of his suit. Anna was in a white silk dress with a high neckline and padded shoulders. At the waist she had a tied belt of the same material, with two long tassels. The dress flowed straight to the floor. Her dark hair had been pulled back into a chignon, and a thick diamond bracelet caught the light as she waved.
Konrad exclaimed when he saw Rosemary: ‘My God, you are beautiful.’
Biff looked Anna up and down, and thought he’d never seen a more stunningly elegant woman in his life, but just said: ‘And so are you.’
She smiled and nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Let’s celebrate our beautiful ladies with champagne.’
Konrad turned to the counter and ordered a bottle. Later, as they made towards a table Biff suddenly saw that there was no back to Anna’s dress at all – she was naked from her waist to the ribbon at the nape of her neck. It was very daring.
Rosemary saw it at the same time.
‘Anna, what an incredible dress.’
‘Do you like it? I got it in Paris last year.’
The girls talked of fashion as they settled themselves into the chairs in the garden room. Anna set her bag on to her lap and got out her cigarettes, offering them to Rosemary. ‘Would you like one?’
‘Turkish? Would you mind if I don’t? Too strong for me.’
Biff took one instead as Rosemary found her Marcovitch Black and Whites.
Anna pushed her cigarette into a small ebony-and-silver holder. Konrad produced his lighter. When the flame reached Biff and he was alight he said: ‘Thanks.’ He nodded at the lighter. ‘That’s very nice.’
Handing it to him, Konrad agreed.
‘Yes, it was given to me by my father when I entered the cadet school.’
It was made of gun metal, like his case, but with a coat of arms and a Germanic scroll.
‘Is this your family crest?’
Konrad pulled a face. ‘Yes. We can trace our ancestors back to the …’ he turned to Anna for help. ‘How do you say it?’
‘Twelfth century.’
‘Yes, twelfth century, but,’ he made a dismissive gesture, ‘in the modern Germany we tend not to worry about these things.’
Biff gave it back. ‘All the same, it’s very nice.’
Rosemary blew out smoke, looking around.
‘Is it fuller than usual or am I imagining it?’
The long room was indeed busy with people dotted among the palms, mostly in dinner and evening dress, but there was the odd uniform, both military and carabinieri, and one officer standing nearby wore the uniform of black with silver lapel-badges of bundles of sticks wrapped around an axe – the Roman sign of authority.
The man started to come towards them, and it suddenly dawned on Biff that it was the same chap who had been behind the reception desk, and who had taken their passports on their arrival. He reached them and nodded. ‘Good evening, Mr Banks, Mrs Banks, Oberleutnant and Frau von Riegner.’
Konrad stood up and shook hands, so Biff got slowly to his feet and reluctantly did the same.
As he did so Konrad said to him: ‘Allow me to present Signore Alfredo Franchetti of the Milizia Volontaria per la Sicurezza Nationale.’
Suspiciously Biff said: ‘You know each other, then?’
Konrad grinned. ‘Oh yes, the signore welcomed us to Sorrento when we arrived. He must surely have met you, too?’
Biff nodded. ‘Welcome? He still has our passports.’
Franchetti waved a hand dismissively. ‘A formality I assure you – just for a few days.’ He looked at both girls. ‘May I compliment you, gentlemen: your ladies are the most beautiful here tonight. I know Il Duce would like to meet you all.’
‘Il Duce?’ Biff frowned.
‘Yes.’ Franchetti beamed. ‘He has been staying on Capri, resting after his successful meeting with Prime Minister Chamberlain, Daladier, and, of course, Herr Hitler.’ He bowed slightly in the direction of Konrad. ‘It is good to see the agreement they signed is already bearing fruit in your friendship here today. I1 Duce will tomorrow come here by boat before going on to Naples for a conference. We are holding a banquet in his honour.’ Franchetti grinned. ‘I would be delighted if you would all attend as my guests.’
Biff was taken aback. To meet a world leader, even a fascist one, was something, and what with the joy at the Munich agreement … Then he remembered Abyssinia.
But the decision was taken from him as Anna said something in German to Konrad. She looked very serious. He seemed uneasy, said something in return but Anna shook her head.
Konrad sighed, turned to Franchetti. He spoke in English.
‘My dear Alfredo, I’m so sorry but we have made other arrangements. We are booked into Amalfi for the night, leave first thing after breakfast. We want so much to see the beauty of your coastline.’
Anna joined in quickly with: ‘Our English friends are coming with us – isn’t that so?’
It was news to Biff and Rosemary, but she recovered first.
‘Yes, yes of course. We have come a long way to see it.’
Fanchetti couldn’t conceal his disappointment.
‘Can you not postpone?’
Biff had cottoned on at last that Anna really didn’t want to attend, and chimed in with: ‘Impossible, I’m afraid, we can only go tomorrow.’
‘I see.’ Franchetti appealed once more to Konrad.
‘Il Duce has brought about peace. Seeing you all together would have been a nice gesture – yes?’
Konrad was forced to say: ‘I agree but . .’ he shrugged.
With a bleak nod, Franchetti excused himself. When he’d gone Konrad and Anna exchanged subdued but obviously heated words in German, before Anna swung around to Rosemary.
‘I’m sorry, but if I hadn’t included you Franchetti would have asked you anyway and you probably would have said yes.’
Rosemary raised an eyebrow, so Anna explained.
‘Franchetti only wanted us there so that he could present us girls to Mussolini, who has a certain reputation with the ladies. A rather animal one. It could have got difficult – embarrassing.’
Konrad frowned, but didn’t argue.
‘Really?’ Rosemary was bewildered. ‘I didn’t know that.’
Anna snorted. ‘Oh yes. Rumour has it that he addresses the crowds from the balcony of the Pallazzo Venezia, while out of sight he is servicing Clara from behind.’
Hearing a woman speak like that shocked Biff, but Rosemary screamed with laughter.
Sheepishly Konrad began to smile. ‘It’s true – the rumours mean,’ he added hurriedly.
The champagne arrived. When the glass coupes had been filled Konrad, visibly cheering up, proposed a toast.
‘Il Duce.’
Even though Konrad was winking, Biff didn’t really want to respond, and he didn’t, but he let his glass clink with the others because they were all happy again. The girls whispered and giggled as Konrad leaned forward.
‘Biff, I insist we stay the night in Amal
fi. It would be embarrassing to be seen around here, especially in the evening. He may well have us observed.’
Biff snorted. ‘So what?’
Grimacing Konrad sipped his drink.
‘It’s perhaps easier for you. Do not forget Germany and Italy have been an axis – allies – since 1936. A report could be sent to my Admiral, noted in my records.’
‘Oh.’ Biff had, frankly, forgotten about Konrad the naval officer.
Rosemary tapped the ash from her cigarette. ‘Well, I’d like to go. It sounds fun.’
Biff stared at her, then at both grinning girls.
He must have still looked unconvinced because Anna said: ‘There you are, Biff. My husband wants you to go, your wife wants you to go, I want you to go – so we go. Yes?’
They all waited expectantly.
Biff sighed. ‘So how do we make arrangements?’
The other three cheered, causing some people to turn and look at them.
‘I’ll do that immediately,’ volunteered Konrad, and got up.
He went off, easing his way through the throng.
‘Have you been to Amalfi before?’ Rosemary asked Anna.
Anna shook her head. ‘No, but I’ve heard all about it from a friend. I was hoping for a day visit, but honestly, this would be better and we could have a great time.’
They’d finished the bottle and the sommelier had directed his waiter to supply another one before Konrad came back, beaming.
‘Well?’ Anna was impatient to know.
‘All fixed.’ He sat down. ‘We are going to stay overnight at the Hotel Cappuccini Convento. It used to be a nunnery. What is more, I have taken the liberty of booking us into an evening concert at the Villa Rufolo in Ravella, followed by dinner afterwards at the Villa Cimbrone next door.’
‘Konrad,’ snapped Anna. ‘Perhaps Biff and Rosemary won’t want to do that. You should ask first.’
He turned to them. ‘Sorry, I hope it is all right. The concerts on the terrace at Rufolo are renowned for their setting. It’s where Wagner received inspiration for his opera Parsifal.’
‘That’s fine, we’d love to.’ Rosemary was excited. ‘Villa Cimbrone. I read something in the newspapers about that place, I’m sure.’
Biff was not really listening. He liked dance music – but a concert…?
Tears of Autumn, The Page 7