‘I’ve got to get out of here before he sees me,’ she muttered. ‘That’ll really put the cat among the pigeons.’
But it was too late. Sandor had seen his host and was starting up the beach towards him, doing a well-honed performance of
‘Gino,’ he called. Then, as he saw Ferne, his expression changed, became astonished, then delighted. ‘Ferne! My darling girl!’
Arms open wide, he raced across the sand and, before she could get her thoughts together, she found herself enfolded in a passionate embrace.
It was an act, she thought, hearing the cheers around them. For some reason he’d calculated that this would be useful to him so he was taking what he wanted, selfishly indifferent to the effect it might have on her. For she was terrified in case she reacted in the old way, the way she now hated to remember.
Nothing happened. There was no pleasure, no excitement. Nothing. She wanted to shout to the heavens with joy at being free again!
‘Tommy-’
‘Sandor,’ he muttered hastily. Then, aloud, ‘Ferne, how wonderful to see you again!’ He smiled down into her eyes, the picture of tender devotion. ‘It’s been too long,’ he said. ‘I’ve thought of you so often.’
‘I’ve thought a few things about you too,’ she informed him tartly. ‘Now, will you let me go?’
‘How can you ask me to do that when I’ve got you in my arms again? And I owe you so much.’
‘Yes, those pictures didn’t do you any harm, did they? Let me
Reluctantly he did so, switching his attention to Gino.
‘Gino, how do you come to know this wonderful lady?’ he cried.
‘I’ve only just met her,’ Gino said. ‘I didn’t realise that you two were-are…’
‘Let’s say we’re old friends,’ Sandor said. ‘
Ferne became awkwardly aware of Dante standing there, arms folded, regarding them sardonically. After everything she’d told him about Sandor, what must he be thinking?
A little crowd was gathering around them as news went along the beach that the famous Sandor Jayley was among them. Young women sighed and regarded Ferne with envy.
‘Sandor,’ she said, backing away from him, ‘Can I introduce you to my friend, Signor Dante Rinucci?’
‘Why, sure.’ Sandor extended his hand. ‘Any friend of Ferne’s is a friend of mine.’
Dante gave him an unreadable smile.
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Then we’re all friends together.’
‘Let’s all sit down.’ Sandor seated himself on her lounger and drew her down beside him.
He was in full flood now, basking in the warm glow of what he took to be admiration, oblivious to the fact that one of his audience was embarrassed and another actively hostile.
‘Just think,’ he sighed. ‘If that house where we were going to shoot had come up to scratch, we’d never have moved to Gino’s
‘There were rats,’ Gino confided. ‘They had to find somewhere else fast, and someone remembered the Palazzo Tirelli.’
‘Why don’t you join us?’ Sandor said suddenly. ‘That’s all right with you, isn’t it, Gino?’ Asking the owner’s permission was clearly an afterthought.
Far from being offended, Gino nearly swooned with delight.
‘And it will give Ferne and me the chance to rekindle our very happy acquaintance,’ Sandor added.
‘Sandor, I don’t think-’ Ferne protested quickly.
‘But we have so much to talk about. You don’t mind if I take Ferne away from you for a few days, do you?’ he asked Dante.
‘You mean Dante isn’t invited too?’ Ferne asked sharply. ‘Then I’m not coming.’
‘Oh, my dear, I’m sure your friend will understand.’
‘
‘So loyal,’ Sandor cooed in a voice that made Ferne want to kick him in a painful place. ‘Signor Rinucci, you’re invited too, of course.’
‘How kind!’ Dante said in a voice that revealed nothing. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
Ferne turned horrified eyes on him. ‘Dante, you don’t mean that?’ she muttered.
‘Of course I do. Getting really acquainted with the place may help me with the sale.’
‘How? You’ve never needed it before.’
‘Well, perhaps I have my own reasons this time,’ he said, his eyes glinting.
Sandor didn’t hear this exchange. Champagne had arrived and he turned to lift two glasses, one of which he handed to Ferne, saying, ‘It’s all settled, then. Here’s to our reunion!’
A young girl detached herself from the swooning crowd on the beach and asked him for an autograph, handing him her lipstick so that he could write his name on her back. Beaming, he obliged, then gave Ferne a questioning look.
‘No camera today? Not like you.’
‘I left it in the hotel.’
‘You? The lady who never moves without her camera? Well, well.’
His look was heavily significant, clearly meant to recall the last time she had turned her camera on him. She faced him back, her eyes full of anger.
Dante watched them and said nothing.
Having established the scene, Sandor didn’t linger over the champagne. Indicating the crowd, he said modestly, ‘You see how it is-wherever I go. I’ll leave now, and see you at the villa this evening.’
He strode away, pursued by adoring fans, plus Gino.
‘So that’s him,’ Dante said. ‘He’s exactly as you said, except worse.’
‘I don’t know what’s going on here,’ she said wildly. ‘When we last met, he couldn’t find words bad enough for me.’
‘But that was three months ago, and he did pretty well out of it. He’s a bigger star now than he was before, thanks to you. So clearly he wants to shower you with his favours. Tonight you’ll be his honoured companion.’
‘Are you trying to be funny?’ she asked stormily. ‘Do you think that’s what I
He gave a strange smile. ‘Let’s say I’m interested to find out. I didn’t mean to offend you. Let’s get going.’
It was late afternoon when they reached the Palazzo Tirelli, a magnificent edifice. Grander still were the ruins that lay nearby, dating back nearly two-thousand years. Ferne could just make out a film crew looking them over, making notes, rehearsing shots.
Gino came to meet them and show them over the place with its long, wide corridors and stone arches. In every room he was able to describe some notable historical episode, which sounded impressive until she saw Dante shaking his head.
Their rooms turned out to be on different corridors, the only ones left, according to Gino. His manner was awkward, and Ferne guessed he was acting on instruction.
At supper she was seated next to Sandor, with Dante on the opposite side of the table several feet down. There were about fifty people at the long table, most of them film crew and actors. Everyone was dressed up to the nines, making her glad she’d chosen the softly glamorous dress of honey-coloured satin that paid tribute to her curves, yet whose neckline was high enough to be tantalising.
‘Beautiful,’ Sandor murmured. ‘But why aren’t you wearing that gold necklace I gave you? It would go perfectly with that dress.’
‘I’m afraid I’d forgotten it,’ she said.
His self-assured smile made her want to thump him. She glanced down the table to see how Dante was taking it, but he wasn’t looking at her.
He was having a good evening. Dinner jacket and bowtie suited him, as the ladies nearby made clear. Ferne would have signalled her admiration if she’d been able to catch his eye, but he seemed happy with the full-bosomed creature who was laughing so uproariously at his jokes, that her attractions wobbled violently in a way that Ferne thought extremely inappropriate.
