by T A Williams
‘You invited him to dinner for me?’ Bee was floundering, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. ‘But I thought you and he were getting on rather well.’
‘And we were, but he’s not for me. Apart from anything else, you saw him first and I’m not the sort of woman who gets involved with other people’s men. But the main reason is because people like me always tend to stick to our own.’
‘Your own?’
‘Showbiz folk. It’s so much easier. Ours is a funny life, quite surreal in many ways. Non-showbiz people find it hard to adjust to and, of course, there’s the whole financial side of it. Nothing makes a relationship go sour faster than money, and too much is as bad as too little. And in my case, it makes things really hard. They say I’m one of the richest women in Hollywood, and that’s an awful lot for a prospective partner to handle.’
Bee nodded. This was one complication she knew she would never have. Alongside her, Mimi stretched her legs and rested her head back against the sofa as she continued.
‘From my point of view, there would always be the nagging doubt that he was into me for my money rather than for myself. And, of course, for him there’d always be the problem of having to come to terms with the fact that I make so much more than him. Some men find that hard to handle.’ She gave Bee a wry smile. ‘I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me – poor little rich girl – but trust me it’s complicated.’
Bee was genuinely surprised. Somehow, no doubt like the majority of the rest of the world, she had assumed that people like Mimi had it all. In practical, financial terms she did of course, but the complicated ramifications of this wealth for her private life were something Bee had never thought through before.
‘And Joey? He’s from your world, after all. How about picking him for a partner?’
Bee saw Mimi hesitate, but only for a moment.
‘If you’d asked me that only a few hours ago, I’d have laughed in your face. But, I have to admit, after tonight, I’m warming to him. Underneath the bravado, he’s a nice guy.’
‘I know he’s got a bit of a wild reputation, but I like him, too.’
‘Well, I’m glad you do, Bee, because you’re seeing him again on Saturday night. I invited him to join us for dinner. Along with your hunky farmer.’
Chapter 11
The meal on Saturday night went very well. Joey arrived first, this time in an anonymous-looking Ford, no doubt after being advised by Mimi to keep a lower profile. He was followed a few minutes later by Luke and the dog. Romeo had been specially invited at Mimi’s request.
It was a lovely evening, so they sat outside in the garden and chatted as the shadows lengthened, the Labrador lay sprawled across the flagstones at their feet and the peacocks strutted around in the background. Joey was wearing a pink polo shirt that showed off his muscular biceps, while Luke wore a white linen shirt, beneath which Bee could see the outline of his rugged body. Mimi looked gorgeous in one of her designer dresses that revealed a whole lot more than Bee would have felt comfortable revealing. For her part, Bee had opted for a short summer dress with a floral print that went well with her suntanned legs and arms. She felt pretty sure she looked quite good in it, apart from her face. Given that they had all seen her without her wig, she decided not to bother. It was now quite a few weeks since the accident and the scars on her head, even the large one with all the stitches, were gradually becoming hidden by her ever-softer hair, although her cheek still had a way to go. All in all, though, she was starting to feel more and more comfortable about her appearance as the days passed by.
They chatted about the area and their walks around the estate, and the fact that she and Mimi were gradually getting more and more familiar with life in the countryside. Bee told them about Berlusconi the goat, the snake and the mushrooms, and Mimi revealed that she had found a black spider the size of a walnut in her bathroom. Swift work with the toothbrush glass had captured the arachnid which had then been released into the wild via the window. Joey was clearly on his best behaviour and played the role of sober grown-up really remarkably well. Just as Mimi had claimed to have been able to see that Bee liked Luke, so Bee could see that Joey liked Mimi. A lot. Mimi, however, was much harder to read.
Luke sounded quite animated and interested to know if they were enjoying living out here in the country, spiders and snakes aside, compared to their previous urban lifestyles. Mimi was the first to answer and Bee got the feeling it was with total sincerity.
‘I’m amazed at just how much I’ve come to love it here in such a short time. It’s so peaceful, so beautiful and so restful. Do you realise, this is just about the first time since my career took off that I’ve been away from work for so long? I was worried before coming here that I might be bored stiff. But nothing could be further from the truth.’
At that moment, Umberto appeared with a second bottle of champagne, followed by Ines with a plate of fettunta, the local name for slices of toasted bread, rubbed with garlic, and drizzled with the thick local olive oil and salt. Bee had already had this local speciality and she loved it. Besides, she told herself, she could safely eat garlic tonight. After all, she wasn’t going to be kissing anybody.
They ate outside by candlelight. It was warm, it was sociable, and it was really rather romantic. Or at least, it could have been if Bee had managed to pick up even the slightest hint of a vibe from Luke. Alas, although he looked and sounded interested in what she had to say, she had to conclude there was nothing romantic going on in his head. Sadly, he appeared to want to be friends, nothing more.
On the other hand, Joey couldn’t have been clearer about his intentions. In fact, Bee felt pretty sure that Umberto, Ines and even Romeo the dog had managed to work out that the handsome film star was making a play for his beautiful opposite number. Mimi, on the other hand, was playing it very cool indeed. She smiled at him, laughed at his jokes and occasionally touched his hand or arm, but Bee got the feeling she was far from falling into his muscular arms any time soon.
The meal was a delight, starting with local ham and salami, followed by pappardelle ai funghi porcini, the sauce for the broad strips of pasta made from the mushrooms they had found. The main course – by which time Bee and Mimi were both beginning to flag – was roast goose with lovely roast potatoes cooked with rosemary and thyme. For dessert, Ines had made a strawberry tart and more of her homemade ice cream to go with it. The result appeared to go down very well with Mimi in particular, who surprised everybody by coming back for a second helping. From the floor, the dog’s eyes definitely indicated his approval as all the lovely smells percolated down to him. Ines had deliberately baked an odd bit of pastry specially for him and when they gave it to him at the end of the meal, it disappeared without trace, leaving Romeo with a big canine smile on his face.
Afterwards, the two men had coffee, while Bee and Mimi settled for small glasses of vin santo, a gorgeous dessert wine made there on the estate. By now it was quite dark apart from the flashes of countless fireflies under the trees. Out in the vines a couple of owls were hooting at each other. It was a delightful, warm, peaceful evening.
‘You know something?’ Mimi glanced across towards the others. ‘I had never really appreciated silence until I came here. If you think about it, our lives are all about noise: talking, acting, travelling about, and always with a background hubbub. Coming here and experiencing what silence is all about has been a real revelation to me. I’m sure it’s going to be the thing I miss most when I leave here.’
Bee nodded in agreement. The valley really was a magical spot.
Finally, at around midnight, the party broke up and the two men made their exit. Mimi kissed both of them on the cheeks before they left, but Bee couldn’t see any difference in intensity between the attention she lavished upon either of the two of them. For her part, Bee also kissed them both, but if she were called upon to indicate which woman’s touch Luke had enjoyed more, the film star would have won the prize. Luke’s reaction was cordial, bu
t nothing more. It was with a sensation of regret that Bee stood on the doorstep and watched him head off into the night with his faithful dog at his side.
As Joey’s Ford set off down the drive, Mimi turned to Bee and smiled.
‘So, did you have a good time?’
‘Absolutely. And you?’
Mimi nodded. ‘Very definitely. Did you know? Joey told me he flew over from the States this week specially to see me.’
‘He certainly seems keen. I definitely got the feeling he’s hooked. Are you going to take it any further?’
‘I’m not sure. He’s off to LA tonight, but he said he’ll be back.’
‘He’s flying to the States tonight?’
‘Yes, he’s rented a private jet so he’ll be able to sleep on the plane. I do the same thing if I have to travel. It’s comfortable and you can be sure you aren’t going to be woken up by a bunch of fans holding autograph books.’
Bee was suddenly jolted back to reality. This evening she had almost forgotten she had been in the presence of two of the most famous faces in the world. The conversation had been relaxed and they had chatted like normal people. Suddenly, with this revelation, she was reminded that she had strayed into waters where she was a very small fish indeed. But, before she could react, Mimi turned the conversation from executive jets to farmers.
‘Luke was looking good tonight, less stressed than the last time I saw him.’
Bee nodded thoughtfully. ‘I thought he looked better as well, but the worry lines are still there if you look hard enough. Apart from anything else, I think he’s really worried for his job.’ She went on to tell Mimi what Umberto had said about the debts the estate had to repay and the possibility of the villa having to be sold if they couldn’t keep up the annual payments.
Mimi nodded sympathetically, but couldn’t help adding. ‘I tell you this, Bee. If this place ever came up for sale, I’d buy it like a shot.’ She grinned. ‘And, of course, I’d keep him in his job. Maybe I should tell him. That might set his mind at rest.’
‘It might indeed.’
‘That way you could marry him and live here happily ever after.’ Her grin broadened.
Bee felt her cheeks blushing. ‘Not much likelihood of that, Mimi. Somehow, I get the impression he isn’t interested.’
Mimi caught her eye for a moment. ‘You’re really not very good at reading the signs, are you?’
‘The signs?’
‘As well as yoga lessons, maybe I should start giving you lessons in how to read men. They aren’t anything like as complicated as we are, you know. And take it from me, Luke the farmer likes you a lot.’
Bee wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 12
The following week, Bee dropped in on Riccardo to make a date to view his paintings and found herself invited straight in. It was a sunny, scorching hot afternoon and there was certainly no lack of light. He appeared at the door with a paintbrush in one hand and beckoned her inside where it was pleasantly cool in comparison. He looked remarkably bright today and, apart from his tousled mane of hair, he was, as ever, very smartly turned out, his T-shirt without a single paint stain. Somehow she had been half-expecting him to be wearing a scruffy old smock, coated with decades of oil paint, but that was definitely not the case.
As he ushered her into his studio, she saw that he was walking with difficulty, leaning heavily on a stick. This no doubt explained why she had been sent to fetch her own wine glasses on previous occasions. It hadn’t been a sign of inhospitality and she felt sorry for misjudging him. Inside the studio, she saw a different painting on his easel. She glanced around, but there was no sign of her portrait this time.
‘What do you think?’ He extended an arm towards the new canvas. ‘I only started it this morning, so there’s still a long way to go.’
Bee scrutinised it for a moment before recognition dawned. It was a still life of a heap of old, gnarled vine stems, their twisted trunks intertwined, giving the overall effect of human bodies writhing together. The closer she looked, the more figures and shapes she could make out. What really surprised her, however, was that he wasn’t copying from a staged pile of old vines. In front of him, on a little table, was a single vine stem, just one. She turned back to him in surprise.
‘I think it’s marvellous. I can see men wrestling, somebody taking a bath, and pretty clearly two people bonking their brains out, all through the medium of a few lumps of wood and your imagination. I don’t know how you do it.’ She hesitated, spotting something in the picture. ‘Wait a minute, I make that three, no four people bonking their brains out.’
He laughed, the first time she had heard him laugh and she was pleased for him. ‘And you talk about my imagination? I can’t see anything of the kind.’
She couldn’t work out if he was kidding her. The more she looked at the painting, the more human bodies she could make out. She wondered for a moment if these really were just the product of her overactive, and possibly frustrated, imagination. No doubt Freud would have had a field day with her psyche if it really was just a painting of some vine stems. Luckily, Riccardo didn’t let her dwell upon her inner thoughts. He slowly led her around the room, picking up canvases from the floor and leaning them against walls or bits of furniture until she was surrounded by them. One thing was patently clear: he was a very talented artist. She repeated her question from the other evening.
‘These are amazing, Riccardo. So, are you famous? You should be.’
For a moment it looked as though he was about to shrug off the question once more but, finally, he relented.
‘I used to sell quite a bit of my work, but the fact is, I’ve hardly painted anything for ages now.’
‘Why not?’
For a moment she got the impression he wasn’t going to answer, but, after a pause, he did. But it didn’t shed any light on the question.
‘Life… Stuff happens.’
Bee didn’t insist, but resolved to check him out on the internet. Riccardo Negri shouldn’t be too hard to find. His voice interrupted her train of thought. She glanced up and saw that he was holding his portrait of her. As she looked on, he rested it on another easel and she could see that it had moved on a good bit from the last time she had seen it. The green dress was now quite clearly fashioned out of lace, in the most amazing detail, but her face, neck and shoulders still needed to be completed.
‘I wonder if I could ask you a favour, Bee.’
‘Of course, anything.’
‘I wonder if you might be prepared to give me an hour or two of your time one of these days to sit for me.’
‘What, to model for you?’
‘Yes, please. It’s all right. I’m not asking you to take your clothes off or anything like that. No, it would just help me immensely if you could sit while I try to finalise your face in this painting I started the other day. Like I told you, I paint from memory, but you can’t beat the real thing.’
Reassured, she gave him a smile. ‘Of course I will, but you’ll have to use your imagination as far as the left side of my face is concerned.’
She read sympathy in his eyes.
‘That won’t be a problem. You’re very kind. Any day or time to suit you. You choose.’
‘I’m free pretty much any day.’ A sudden thought occurred to her. ‘But, in return, I’d like you to promise that you’ll come up to the villa for dinner one of these days. Will you do that?’
His eyes dropped, and she saw him shake his head, suddenly serious.
‘I can’t do that.’ His voice was low.
Bee remembered what Umberto had said about the ownership of the estate being ‘complicated’ and realised she was probably on thin ice here. Maybe he hadn’t inherited from his father, after all, and the new owner didn’t want him there. She tried again.
‘You don’t even need to come inside if you don’t want to. The other night we ate outside in the garden. How would that be?’
There was a long silence that she finally decide
d to break. There was no point flogging a dead horse.
‘Anyway, you think about it, Riccardo. And, of course, I’ll be happy to model for you any time.’
He looked up, an expression of relief on his face. ‘I promise I’ll think about your kind invitation, but it’s complicated.’ That word again. ‘And thank you for agreeing to sit for me. Just one thing, though. When you come, could you find a top that reveals your throat and maybe even your shoulders? I’d really like to get the skin tone dead right and the dress I’ve put you in has a wide neckline.’
‘No problem. I’ll dig out something suitable. By the way, why the old-fashioned costume? From the style of the dress it looks Renaissance?’
‘It’s a period of history that’s always fascinated me. You’ve probably noticed quite a few of my paintings are in that style.’
‘Any reason?’
‘Maybe because some of the greatest artists who ever lived were active then. And quite a few of them were working not so very far from where we are now. Just think, Botticelli painted his Birth of Venus just down the road in Florence. Let’s just say it’s my very humble attempt to pay homage to the greats.’
‘So you don’t like doing modern stuff?’
‘The present day is so much sadder than the past.’
From the expression she could see on his face, Bee felt quite sure he was referring not only to painting, but to his own life.
* * *
That evening, before dinner, Bee checked out Riccardo Negri on the internet and got a major shock. The Wikipedia entry was long and informative, but not only about his art career. As well as charting his professional life from humble art student to international fame resulting in a number of his paintings being exhibited in galleries around the globe, it also included a biography of him. This was a real eye-opener and Bee read it with rapt attention.