by Susan Lewis
Shelley was laughing. ‘Oh God, Ally, it’s so easy to get you going,’ she said. ‘You don’t honestly think that was for real, do you?’
Allyson wasn’t sure, though it certainly didn’t feel like much of a joke to her, so she threw the robe at Shelley and told her to put it on.
‘You’re angry,’ Shelley said, covering herself up.
‘I’m not angry,’ Allyson responded. ‘I’m just …’ The last thing she wanted was to get into a scene with someone from the press around, so she said, ‘I’m probably just a bit uptight about the party tomorrow.’
Shelley gave Candy a look that made Allyson angrier than ever.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Allyson said tightly, ‘I think I’ll go and take a bath, and maybe we should let the publicists work out the seating plan for dinner.’
As it turned out, the publicists’ careful structuring of the evening soon dissolved into a wonderfully convivial flow that saw the crème de la crème of international society moving with effortless charm and politeness from one table to another, exchanging anecdotes and memories, and drinking champagne cocktails that were travelling freely about the room on shiny silver salvers. Though no-one had bothered with formal attire, and the Americans who had recently arrived were looking a little crumpled and jet-lagged, it was easy for Allyson to get an early view of just how spectacular the party would be in this magnificent airy hall with all its white arches, cherubic fountains, marble floors and exotic greenery. And once all the glitter and dash of fame, high acclaim, noble birth, and sheer magnetism was added, along with the exquisite designer gowns, beautifully tailored tuxedos and lavishly expensive jewels, it could hardly fail to be anything but the party to end all parties.
‘I can see our hotel is going to be booked up for months, if not years to come, after your programme,’ Giovanni told her, his handsome dark eyes shining with pleasure. ‘Everyone will want to come here.’
Allyson smiled as she experienced a pleasing glow of satisfaction, for though she had no idea what the future held for her and Mark, it was good to be playing a part in the birth of the splendid Palazzo. The thought took her mind instantly to Shelley, who was perched on the edge of a fountain, talking to the Italian tenor and his wife. She looked lovely, in a pale blue silk dress that buttoned down the front, and silver Chanel pumps that were as elegant and graceful as Shelley herself. It was an outfit Allyson had seen before and was so classically Shelley that it made the afternoon’s display seem an even greater affront. As if she’d really want Shelley to dress down to avoid upstaging her! And the arrogance of assuming she could! However, retaining any anger over that ludicrous scene was a waste of precious energy, so she should just forget it had happened, especially as Shelley was now heading her way.
‘Are you OK?’ Shelley said as she joined her.
Allyson nodded, then smiled and waved at someone across the room.
‘I’m sorry about earlier, with Candy,’ Shelley said quietly. ‘It was crass and I shouldn’t have done it.’
Allyson looked into her eyes. ‘Then why did you?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure really. I didn’t give it much thought at the time, but I can see now why it upset you.’
‘Can you?’ Allyson said, wanting to understand it too.
Shelley’s answering smile was so irritating that Allyson wanted to slap her. ‘I think so,’ Shelley answered smoothly.
Allyson was boiling. Obviously Shelley was assuming it was her beauty that had upset Allyson, and though it might well have been, Allyson was furious to think that Shelley could feel so superior. But then she had to remind herself that it was all a defence, a means of trying to reassert herself after the humiliation she had suffered when Mark had chosen Allyson over her.
‘So is my apology accepted?’ Shelley said. ‘Are we still friends?’
Somehow Allyson managed a smile. ‘Of course,’ she said.
‘Then let’s mingle.’
As Shelley moved back into the room Allyson watched her for a moment and forced herself to remember how very much Shelley meant to her. They’d known each other for so long, had come through such a lot together, that even if this was starting to prove the toughest test yet to their friendship, Allyson felt sure they both wanted it to survive. Though there were times, like right now, when she didn’t want it quite so much.
However, focusing her attention on that was doing nothing to help the programme, so putting down her champagne she slipped out to reception to see if the crew was back from Pompeii yet. It was perfect timing for Alan, the director, was just coming in the door.
‘How did it go?’ she asked, as the camera and sound guys followed him in.
‘Great,’ he answered, handing her a cassette. ‘Got a bit of flack from officialdom, but Justie greased a few palms and they left us alone after that. Tessa did a great commentary, by the way. Did you write it?’
‘Yes. Where is she?’
He turned round. ‘She was behind me a moment ago … Ah, here she is.’
Allyson followed his eyes to the door, then went suddenly still with shock. Mark was walking in behind Tessa. She felt slightly disorientated for a moment, as though she’d missed something vital, then the feeling started to ebb as his eyes found her and the space between them seemed to close even before he moved.
What seemed like seconds later, before anyone else could register his arrival, they were in one of the offices behind reception and she was laughing as he kissed her, and loving the tumultuous urges and compulsions that made these early stages of their relationship feel so risky and exciting.
‘I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get away,’ he told her, holding her face in his hands, ‘but when I knew for certain I thought I’d surprise you.’
‘Well, you definitely succeeded,’ she scolded. ‘I thought for a minute, when I saw you, that I was losing my mind. And let me tell you, you’re not the first person today to throw me a curve …’ His lips silenced the rest of her words, and the pressure of his body quickly began igniting responses that needed much more immediate attention than her state of mind.
‘Christ, I’m sorry,’ he gasped, when he realized how far they were going. ‘I guess I was even keener to see you than …’ He groaned as her hand tightened around him, then his mouth was crushing hers again, and his hands were pushing inside her panties.
‘Let me take them off,’ she murmured, and in a second she was naked from the waist down and he was pushing his fingers right up inside her.
‘I want you,’ she gasped. ‘Oh God, I want you now.’
His fingers were gone and pushing his cock between her legs he entered her hard. ‘Are you OK?’ he panted, as he rammed himself into her.
‘Yes. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.’
‘I’m not going to. Oh God, Allyson, do you have any idea …’ then his mouth was hard on hers as the harsh jets of his orgasm burst into the pulsating grasp of hers, flooding her with the exquisite release of wanting her so much he was unable to hold back.
‘Hold me,’ she implored, when they were able to speak steadily again. ‘Hold me and tell me how the hell we’re going to walk out of here without everyone knowing what we’ve been doing.’
Laughing, he kissed her again, then refastened his trousers as she stooped to pick up her panties. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen,’ he said. ‘Or let’s say I did, but I didn’t exactly have the front office in mind when I was thinking about this on the plane over.’
‘You mean you fantasize about me when I’m not there,’ she teased.
‘All the time,’ he answered.
When they emerged, a few minutes later, there was no-one near the reception desk, and they were soon melding into the dinner crowd as naturally as if he’d just come in from the airport, without the ten-minute interlude since he’d entered the door. But now and again they caught one another’s eye and couldn’t stop themselves exchanging glances that easily gave them away to those who were watching, and, with so many reporters pr
esent, plenty were. The only one watching Shelley was Candy, and though there was nothing in Shelley’s behaviour to suggest that she was even noticing those looks, Candy felt pretty certain she was. And after the strange episode in Allyson’s room earlier there was no doubt in Candy’s mind that something wasn’t right between Shelley and Allyson – and it didn’t take a particularly vivid imagination to work out that Mark Reiner was probably at the root of it.
Though Allyson and Mark slept in separate rooms, he delivered her breakfast personally the next morning, at the ungodly hour of six, when everyone else was still sleeping. This gave them a precious hour together before Allyson had to meet the crew at the Rufolo gardens to start recording the Night Cap. Though they made love as passionately, though less speedily than the night before, it was the memory of what they’d talked about afterwards that lingered with her as she sat on the cathedral steps looking over the piazza, while waiting for the crew to set up in the leafy glade.
‘I had a call from your husband before I left,’ he’d told her, as she poured the coffee.
Allyson had stopped the pouring and turned to look at him, sitting up in bed with a single white sheet covering his nudity. ‘What did he say?’ she asked.
‘Cutting to the bottom line,’ he answered, ‘he wanted to know how I feel about you.’
Allyson’s heart tripped. ‘What did you tell him?’
‘That considering his reasons for wanting to know, it would probably be more helpful to find out how you feel about me.’
Allyson looked away. ‘I’m sorry he did that,’ she said.
‘The man obviously loves you and wants you back,’ he said. ‘And what I should have told him was to ask you how you feel about him.’
Allyson let several minutes pass before she turned to look at him again. She said nothing, but the question, the need to know what his feelings were, was there in her eyes.
Reaching for her hand he pulled her down on the bed beside him. ‘I could tell you right now how I feel about you,’ he said softly, ‘but it’s not going to help. If anything it’ll only complicate things further.’
She hadn’t asked him to elaborate on that, there had been no need to, for the tenderness of his kiss and the whole tenor of his actions told her what she needed to know. And now, sitting here, in this beautiful Italian piazza, with the sunlight streaming down through the trees, and the hypnotic scent of nature floating gently on the breeze, she could feel herself coming to the decision she knew she had to make. She smiled, for a part of her wanted to go to Mark right now and tell him, but she wouldn’t because she owed it to Bob to tell him first, which she would, as soon as they arrived back in London. It was awful to think of how much it was going to hurt him, but she had to follow her heart and there was no doubt now that she wanted to be with Mark. Whether she was actually in love with him yet was hard to say, but she thought she probably was, and being so certain he felt the same way made her want to give them the chance to find out.
‘OK?’ Zac said, coming to sit on the steps beside her. ‘You’ve got a bit of daft look on your face, so I thought I’d ask.’
Allyson laughed. ‘Has Lenny Blomfeld come down from the hotel yet?’ She was referring to the Scottish composer who was to be the Night Cap guest.
‘He’s on his way. Did Tessa find you earlier? She wanted to set up a time when the two of you can go over the Happy Hour interviews.’
‘We can do it this afternoon while they’re rigging. I gave Justie a running order, do you know if Tessa’s seen it?’
‘I think so. Terri Jankler’s doing her stuff this morning, by the way. But I have to tell you everyone’s finding it hilarious the way Tessa keeps mixing up their titles. Personally I think she’s doing it on purpose, and we should let her get on with it, because it’s a nice touch.’
‘You could be right,’ Allyson said, looking up as Alan came out of the gardens and headed towards them. ‘Ready?’ she asked him.
‘Five minutes,’ he answered. ‘Our guest arrived yet?’
‘I’m here,’ Blomfeld’s voice boomed out behind them. ‘And I’ve brought someone to join us.’
It was America’s latest teen pop phenomenon, who was no mere product of the electronic age, but a supremely gifted musician who had won Blomfeld’s heart the night before when she’d sung, unaccompanied, an entire aria from Aida. An interview with the two of them would provide a perfect finale to the show, particularly if Allyson could persuade them to perform together, Blomfeld on the piano, and the pop wonder singing something else from an Italian opera. The only problem Allyson foresaw with that was the insurmountable one of being able to afford their performance fees. But it was worth a go, and if their managers or agents refused a waiver, she’d have the interview anyway.
Eventually the camera was ready to turn over, and going into the gardens where the make-up artist was waiting to apply the final cosmetic dabs, Allyson waited for her cue from Alan, then began the link into the Night Cap. While the interview took place Zac and Justine were outside in the piazza burning the phones in an attempt to get the go-ahead for a closing performance, but it simply wasn’t possible to obtain in such a short time. So it wasn’t long before Allyson and her two guests, having completed an extremely entertaining exchange, strolled back out to the square to find Shelley and Mark drinking coffee together outside one of the cafés.
Allyson stopped mid-sentence, for the picture they painted, of a couple who seemed so relaxed and well suited to each other, caused such a jolt in her heart that it was a moment before she could make her thoughts move beyond it. But then she reminded herself of how much easier it would be, for all of them, if Mark and Shelley could be friends, and if this was the start of it then maybe instead of feeling threatened she should be trying to encourage it.
As she approached them she was smiling, though the warmth drained somewhat when she saw the way Shelley’s nipples were so evident through the clinging white fabric of her top. There was simply no way Mark could have missed them, and she found herself wishing that Shelley had explored her new image of dowdiness a while longer.
‘Darling,’ Mark said when he saw her, and getting to his feet he took her hand discreetly in his and looked into her eyes.
Allyson’s hostility instantly melted, not only because it was the first time he had called her that, but because he had said it in front of Shelley. And he so obviously wanted to kiss her that, had the crew and some of the guests not been scattered around the square at that moment, she knew he would have.
‘Hi,’ she whispered, still looking at him.
Shelley picked up her cup. ‘I get the feeling I could be extra to requirements,’ she said, finishing her coffee.
‘No, don’t go,’ Allyson protested. ‘There’re still a thousand things we need to go over for later …’
Shelley held up her hands. ‘This is your show,’ she reminded her. ‘I’m only along for the ride.’
‘Oh no,’ Allyson said, sitting down on the chair Mark was holding out. ‘No freeloaders from Soirée, I’m afraid. Besides, I’d really like you to take a look at some of the questions I’ve come up with for Tessa. I’ve got the guest running order here somewhere,’ she said, flipping through the pages on her clipboard.
‘Are you going to have a coffee?’ Mark asked her as the waiter arrived.
‘Mmm,’ she nodded.
‘Un cappuccino,’ Mark ordered.
‘Make that tre,’ Zac added as he and Justine joined them. ‘We’re making some progress for the closing number,’ he told Allyson. ‘With any luck we’ll be able to record something first thing tomorrow before we leave.’
‘Great,’ she said, handing a guest running order to Shelley. ‘Are you leaving us?’ she said to Mark, who was on his feet, with a cellphone at his ear.
‘I’ll catch you later,’ he said to Allyson. ‘OK, Giovanni, I’m on my way. Sure, it shouldn’t be a problem.’ Allyson watched him as he headed off to the cobbled steps that led up to the hotel, then Zac w
as talking, with Justine butting in, and Shelley was starting to remark on the running order and before Allyson knew it they too had returned to the hotel, with the running order still in hot debate, and the crew in close pursuit.
Through all the mayhem of caterers, decorators, cleaners, musicians and electricians Allyson spotted Tessa in one of the lobby’s cosy niches with its fabulous view of the sea, being coached by Terri Jankler, the freelance society writer. Great, that was under way, now she needed to find each of the featured guests and run through their questions; then she should have a discussion on position and lighting with the director, after which she might be able to fit in a good hour with Tessa …
‘Ally, here’s the list of what everyone’s wearing.’ It was one of the wardrobe assistants, handing her the names of the designers who needed to be credited. ‘The princess might change her mind at the last minute and wear a Gucci …’
‘Great. Give it to Justie,’ Allyson interrupted. ‘Have you seen anyone from make-up, I want them to do something with Tessa’s hair. She needs some jewels in it, or a tiara … No, not a tiara … Just something sparkly. Will you pass the message on?’
‘Sure.’
Allyson turned away, straight into the path of a speeding florist. It was a narrow miss, which earned her a stream of Neapolitan invective, and a gentle shove from a rigger who was trying to get past her with cables. Then Tessa was beside her, insisting she come and talk to Terri, who had just popped off to the ladies’, so there was a minute for Allyson to take a look at Tessa’s costume.
‘I’ve already seen it,’ Allyson told her. ‘It’s perfect. You’ll look amazing. I’ll come and find you in a minute, I need to talk to the sound guys first,’ and she headed off down the bar where the madness was even greater than in the lobby.
However, by five that evening, by some miracle of organization, all the guests were assembled ready for a rehearsal. This was merely for position and timing, though it called for great feats of memory on the part of some, and even greater skills of dexterity on the part of others. But Alan was nothing if not an unflappable director, and mainly thanks to his cunning and patience they were through by six, at which point everyone vanished to their rooms to start dressing for the great occasion.