Summer Madness

by Susan Lewis

  As Louisa sipped her wine she knew she was being quietly assessed and was intrigued to know what Consuela was thinking. Not that she was going to ask, any more than she was going to bring up the subject of Jake. True, Consuela was probably the one person who could tell her what she longed to know, but he had asked her to trust him and that was what she was going to do.

  ‘Just look at her, will you?’ Danny said, making Louisa blink. ‘Oh, hello, you are still with us,’ Danny grinned. ‘You’ll have to excuse her,’ she added to Consuela, ‘she’s a writer, drifts off with the muse, you know what I mean?’

  ‘What are you writing?’ Consuela smiled.

  ‘I’m in the planning stages of what I hope will be a ten-part series,’ Louisa answered, feeling on quite a high because of all the work she’d managed to get done in the past couple of days – since she’d seen Jake.

  ‘Did you contact Señor Morandi, by the way?’ Consuela asked, covering her wine glass as a waiter tried to refill it.

  ‘Not yet,’ Louisa answered. ‘But we’re going to. What sort of things is he looking for, do you know?’

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ Consuela confessed. ‘I’ve only met him once, but I think he’s had quite a few successes in feature films and television.’

  ‘Does he speak English?’ Louisa asked – it was easy to forget that not everyone did when they seemed so surrounded by English-speakers.

  ‘Mmm,’ Consuela answered, taking a mouthful of the delicious Saint Jacques aux cèpes. ‘His English is very good if I remember correctly.’

  ‘I don’t know if we’ll be able to get Sarah interested,’ Danny commented. ‘She’s dead set on changing careers right now, but you and I could always go to see him, Louisa.’ She picked up a napkin to fan herself. ‘God, it’s hot,’ she sighed.

  ‘It’ll get much hotter than this by August,’ Consuela warned. ‘But you’ll be more used to it by then. Besides, we have some rain forecast over the next few days, that should help cool you down a …’ She stopped and followed the direction of Danny’s eyes to see a stunning blonde woman, in the very briefest of bikinis, stroll across the terrace down into the garden below. Just about everyone in the restaurant had paused to watch her, for as one of the world’s leading models she was as easily recognized as she was admired.

  Louisa wasn’t in the least surprised when a few minutes later Danny disappeared into the ladies’ room. By the time she returned she would be wearing the white one-piece swimsuit she’d brought with her and her flawless, tanned skin would be coated in oil. Today was obviously one of the days when she wanted the limelight and as gorgeous as Gretchen Gunter was even she would find it hard to compete with Danny’s exotically dark and voluptuous beauty. Louisa smiled to herself. Danny was so like a child at times, so easy to read and desperate to be noticed, and with a stab of unpalatable jealousy she couldn’t help wondering what Jake really thought of her.

  ‘I am glad to have this chance to speak to you alone,’ Consuela said. ‘Johann tells me that you left the bathhouse earlier than the others, that the entertainment wasn’t quite to your … How shall we put it? Taste?’

  ‘Oh, please don’t think …’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Consuela smiled, putting up her hand. ‘I’m not offended, I was just hoping that you weren’t.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Louisa assured her, feeling herself start to colour. ‘It was just, well, it was simply that …’ What could she say when the truth was that she’d left early because of Jake? It seemed so absurd when at that point they’d never even spoken to each other.

  ‘You don’t have to explain,’ Consuela laughed. ‘I understand. You may have noticed that I didn’t join in myself – you see it’s not really to my taste either.’

  Louisa looked at her, not wanting to pry, but hoping she would say more.

  ‘Why do I have the bathhouse, is that what you’re asking yourself?’ Consuela said. She gazed out to sea for a moment, smiling distantly to herself as she absently stroked Louisa’s hand. ‘It is there for the enjoyment of my friends,’ she said softly. ‘It gives them great pleasure, helps them to relax from the stresses of their lives and their marriages, in an atmosphere of soothing calm and of course discretion. This sort of thing has been available to men for as far back as any of us can remember, so why should it not be available to women?’

  Louisa shrugged, as if to say, why not indeed?

  ‘But that doesn’t really answer your question, does it?’ Consuela went on. ‘The reason that I do not indulge myself in its pleasures is really very complex and one that I have no wish to burden you with. I trust Jake saw you home safely,’ she added casually, taking a sip of water.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Louisa answered. She paused, then no longer able to curb her curiosity she said, ‘Is he – is he a relative of yours?’

  Consuela laughed. ‘Jake’s family and mine go back over many years,’ she answered. ‘We know each other well.’ Her eyes were dancing with humour. ‘Do I detect an interest?’ she said.

  ‘No, no, not at all,’ Louisa assured her.

  ‘And what about Danny? They’ve seen each other once or twice, I hear. Is she smitten with him yet?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Louisa answered, inwardly reacting to the ‘once or twice’. She hadn’t known for sure whether or not Danny had seen Jake again after the first time, but it seemed that she had – and that Jake had mentioned it to Consuela.

  ‘Maybe it is he who is smitten with her,’ Consuela laughed, giving Louisa a conspiratorial wink. ‘That’ll be hard for Jake to take if it’s true, he’s not used to having things that way round. But maybe you should warn Danny to take care. He has something of a reputation for breaking hearts and I should hate to see her unhappy.’

  ‘If you knew Danny better,’ Louisa said, forcing herself to smile, ‘I’m sure you’d agree she can take care of herself.’

  ‘I’m sure she can,’ Consuela said, picking up her wine. ‘But if I were you I’d give Señor Morandi a call, because it won’t hurt to have Danny’s mind a little more occupied than it is.’

  Later that night Louisa and Sarah were sitting quietly on the terrace, sipping rosé wine and watching the tiny crackles of light from the fire-flies.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Louisa said, having just recounted her conversation with Consuela.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Sarah answered. ‘There’s obviously something going on, I mean after what Jean-Claude said to you about Jake and now with Consuela trying to get you to warn Danny off him.’

  She turned to look at Louisa, studying her gentle profile in the subdued light of the terrace.

  ‘Did Danny say where she was going tonight?’ Louisa asked, still watching the fire-flies.

  ‘Yes.’

  Louisa allowed a few seconds to tick by before saying. ‘Well, I guess that answers my question. Did he call her, do you know?’

  ‘I didn’t hear the phone so I don’t know what their arrangements were.’ She paused for a moment, sensing how badly Louisa was feeling. ‘You haven’t told me what happened between the two of you the other night,’ she prompted.

  Louisa’s lips pursed at the corners as she looked down at her wine. ‘Nothing happened,’ she said. ‘We kissed on the side of the road, as you know, and that was it.’

  Sarah looked perplexed, clearly not sure whether or not to push a little harder.

  Louisa lifted her glass and drank. She desperately wanted to confide in Sarah, and since Danny was with Jake again tonight she didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t. Except what was there to say that wasn’t going to make her look the prize fool that she was?

  ‘I take it you do still feel the same way about him?’ Sarah probed gently.

  Louisa shrugged. ‘I told you, Consuela thinks he’s probably besotted with Danny and since they’re obviously together again tonight, I guess that just about wraps it up for me, wouldn’t you say?’

  There wasn’t much Sarah could say about that so changing the sub
ject slightly she said, ‘I think we should go and see this Morandi guy.’

  Louisa turned to her in surprise. ‘I didn’t think you were interested in getting back into TV.’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘I’m not particularly, but swanning around here with nothing much to occupy our minds isn’t really working, is it? And who knows, he might come up with something that will make me change my mind.’

  Jake was stretched out along the saloon deck box, his feet resting on a dorade as he idly smoked a cigarette and gazed up at the night sky. The crew had gone ashore and he was relishing these rare moments of solitude. Somewhere inside the port a party was in full swing, but the noise was no more intrusive than the gentle slap of the waves against the hull. His mind was so distant from these shores that it had suspended the reality of his surroundings, just as the events in his life had suspended the joy of untroubled thought.

  Taking a last draw on his cigarette, he cast it into the sea and swung himself up into a sitting position. His expression was hard, almost angry, his fists were clenched. He looked out across the sea and seeing the lights of the Carmichael’s yacht disappearing into the horizon a grim smile twisted his mouth.

  Hearing the gentle chug of an engine he glanced back towards the port. Bob was on his way back, though earlier than expected. There was someone in the dinghy with him and when Jake realized who it was he started to laugh.

  He stayed where he was waiting for them to come aboard, then with no more than a cursory glance in Danny’s direction he looked at Bob.

  Bob muttered in Danny’s ear while her sultry eyes slaked Jake’s body, her lips curving in a slow, promising smile. When Bob had finished she turned, sauntered across the deck and with a lingering glance back over her shoulder she descended the gleaming, varnished steps into the luxurious cabins of the Valhalla.

  ‘Well?’ Jake said when she’d gone.

  Bob reached inside his shirt and drew out a thick wad of bank notes. Jake took it, flicked it, then tucked it inside his own shirt. ‘Anything else?’ he said.

  Bob looked at him for a moment before answering. ‘She was in Guadalajara three days ago,’ he said.

  Jake’s eyes became suddenly hard and the shock that passed through him was visible. ‘Where’s Fernando now?’ he asked.

  ‘On his way to Guadalajara.’

  ‘Is he sure it was her?’

  ‘Yeah, he reckons so.’

  Jake stared at him, but his thoughts were once again a great distance from the decks of the Valhalla. Then turning abruptly he said, ‘I’m going ashore. Get onto Marianne. Tell her I want to see her, tonight. She knows where I’ll be.’

  Bob’s eyes shifted downwards, reminding Jake he had a guest.

  ‘Tonight,’ Jake repeated then swung himself down into the dinghy.

  Bob stood in the darkness with his hands resting on the lifeline, watching the small boat speed across the water. A few minutes later he took a phone from his pocket and called Marianne. That done, he turned towards the coach house. Time now to go deal with Danny Spencer.

  10

  MARIO MORANDI WAS sitting in the chaos of his office on the third floor of a nineteenth-century building just off the Avenue Jean Médecin in Nice. As his mournful brown eyes darted about the stacks of film cans, haphazard piles of video cassettes and endless reams of typed paper, his expression became increasingly anxious. The din of the traffic outside was bothering him, and each time a lorry roared past or someone hooted angrily on a car horn he winced. The heat was getting to him too, as he repeatedly picked up his handkerchief to mop the sweat from his troubled face.

  There was a stack of messages in front of him, most of which needed to be dealt with yesterday and on top of them was a huge plan of a schedule which, unless he could master the art of being in four places at once, he was never going to make work.

  He called himself a producer, which from time to time he was, but on the whole he was a high-faluting Mr Fixit, who couldn’t say no to anyone, no matter how impossible or outlandish the request – which was how he’d come to land himself in the kind of mess that etched his naturally worried expression deeper into his face and had, he was sure, given him an ulcer.

  He was about to get up from his desk when the door opened and Aphrodite, his Greek assistant, put her head in. ‘Your visitors have arrived,’ she told him, then laughed at the blank expression that came over his handsome face.

  ‘The friends of Consuela Santini,’ she reminded him, coming into the room and closing the door behind her.

  ‘Yes, oh yes,’ he said sounding very depressed.

  Aphrodite grinned, pushed her long, frizzy brown hair back over her shoulder and walked to his desk to dab his face with his handkerchief. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ she told him, dropping a kiss on his receding hairline. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  ‘Will it?’ he asked despondently. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to make a real hash of it.’

  ‘You won’t,’ she assured him. ‘Now, shall I run out for some lemonade?’

  ‘Mmm,’ he responded, clearly deep in thought. ‘You’d better ask them if they’d like some too. Did you get any joy from Rome, by the way?’

  ‘The lights are on their way. I’ve found some editing facilities for Frank Bull’s production too. Ours are all booked up. Now,’ she tilted his face up to hers, kissed him lingeringly on the mouth and said, ‘I’d better remind you that you’re taking me to dinner tonight. You promised and I’m holding you to it.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ he said and as he smiled the soft light in his hazel eyes added a quality to his sombre expression that more accurately portrayed the man behind it. ‘What would I do without you?’ he said.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ she replied, kissing him again. ‘Incidentally,’ she added, nodding towards the outer office, ‘only two of them have turned up.’

  Morandi was suddenly depressed again, watching Aphrodite wander back to the door. ‘You’d better contact Jake Mallory and tell him that,’ he said.

  Aphrodite turned back, looked as though she was about to say something, then merely shrugged and pulled open the door.

  Morandi was already on his feet when Sarah and Louisa walked in and the first thing they noticed about him was his incredible height. It was rare to find an Italian over six feet and Morandi had passed the mark by several inches. The second thing they noticed was his deeply troubled frown. Sarah glanced at Louisa, then moved forward holding out her hand.

  ‘I’m Sarah Lovell,’ she told him, surprised by his firm, cool grip when his brow was sweating so profusely. ‘And this is Louisa Kramer.’

  ‘It is a great pleasure to meet you both,’ Morandi said, leaning further across his desk to shake Louisa’s hand. ‘Please, won’t you sit down.’

  Sarah and Louisa looked around at the cluttered chairs and Sarah felt a moment’s nostalgia for the bedlam of her old office.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Morandi said, hastening around his desk to clear some space. He sent books and cassettes crashing to the floor then held the backs of the chairs as first Louisa, then Sarah, sat down. He seemed so absurdly polite that Louisa wanted to laugh.

  ‘So,’ he said, returning to his own chair. ‘How can I help you, ladies?’

  Ah, there was an accent, Sarah registered, it was the first note of it, for so far his English had been incredibly Oxford. She was on the point of answering when she noticed how suddenly pained he looked. ‘Are you all right, Mr Morandi?’ she said solicitously.

  His eyes opened wide. ‘Oh, yes. Yes, I’m very well thank you,’ he answered. ‘How are you?’

  Sarah’s lips twitched. ‘I’m fine, thank you, it’s just that you looked a little, uh, bothered, about something.’

  ‘Si?’ he said surprised.

  ‘Si,’ she nodded when he didn’t continue.

  ‘Ah, no. I was trying to remember. I was thinking that when Señora Santini called me she said there were three of you. But now,’ he spread his hands so flamboyantly it
was as though he were ending a conjuring trick, ‘you are two!’ he declared.

  Sarah could sense that Louisa was having an even harder time keeping a straight face than she was. ‘Yes, I’m afraid that Danny wasn’t able to come today,’ she explained, ‘so as you say, we are two.’

  ‘Three including me,’ he said delightedly.

  Sarah looked frankly and humorously into his eyes. To her surprise he returned the look and then to her even greater surprise he started to blush.

  ‘So, you are interested in making films,’ he said and the suddenness of his despondency caused Sarah and Louisa to look at one another in bewilderment.

  ‘Well, uh,’ Sarah began.

  ‘We don’t actually have any projects ready to go into production at this time,’ Louisa said. ‘We just thought it would be a good idea to meet. The market in England is slow at the moment and well …’ She shrugged. ‘It’s always interesting to see what other people are doing.’

  ‘Si, si, of course,’ he said. ‘But you don’t have any projects yourselves?’

  ‘Not at the moment,’ Sarah said apologetically.

  ‘It is of no matter,’ he said, the astonishing brightness of his smile lighting up his face. ‘I have many projects and not enough people to make them. I am a very busy man, I need more staff, more people willing to work, it is not easy, I must find the right people.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Uh, what kind of projects do you have?’

  ‘All kinds. One kind,’ he corrected. ‘All variations on the same theme. You don’t want to make these films,’ he added.