Deep and Silent Waters (13 page)

Agonised, Laura cried out, ‘Don’t
say
that! You know, if anyone overheard you and repeated what you’d said Sebastian could sue you for every penny you’ve got!’

Luckily, the prospect of losing money had its usual effect on Melanie, who sighed and subsided. ‘There’s no justice. But it’s just as well I didn’t know you were with him – I’d have been far more worried and I might have said a damn sight too much in the bar while I was waiting. Stay away from him, Laura. If your sense of self-preservation doesn’t stop you, at least think of the bad publicity! People will talk, you know.’ She met Laura’s derisive eyes and had the grace to go a little pink, muttering, ‘Well, what can you expect? You don’t want people believing that you were the reason why he did it, do you?’ She held up her hand as Laura stirred angrily. ‘I know, I know, he’s as innocent as a newborn lamb. But that isn’t what people believe. So, promise me you won’t see him again.’

‘I’m having breakfast with him tomorrow,’ Laura told her flatly.

‘You’re what?’ Melanie went bright red.

‘In his suite. Nobody else will see us so you needn’t worry.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this! You need a full-time minder – do you know that? You are not meeting him, Laura. I won’t let you get involved with him again. In any case, I’ve already fixed a working breakfast at ten o’clock with Sam Beethoven – he never gets up any earlier, it was quite a concession he made in agreeing to be up by ten – and he could do so much for your career. He’s the most powerful producer at the festival. It shows how hot you’re getting that he wanted to meet you. And at half past eleven we’re having brunch on the terrace with some people from Hollywood. I’m not sure what’s behind their interest but they have a lot of clout and we don’t want to offend them. So you can ring Sebastian Ferrese and tell him your date with him is off.’

‘I can’t do that! And it isn’t a date, exactly, anyway. I’m meeting him at eight o’clock and it’s business.’

‘Oh, sure! Pull the other one, Laura. Sebastian Ferrese is a genius at mixing business and pleasure where women are concerned.’

‘Mel, he has a new project, a film he wants to make in Venice. Do you remember that big bestseller,
The Lily
, by Frederick Canfield? Set in Italy in the thirties and forties? It’s about a rich Italian family with two sons who both fall in love with the same girl and become deadly enemies over her.’

‘Never heard of it, but the storyline is as old as the hills.’

‘The difference with this book is that one brother is a Fascist and the other is a Communist, who later joins the partisans on the outbreak of war. The Fascist brother is captured by the partisans at the end of the war, and it’s his own brother who executes him.’

‘Sounds a jolly little tale – typical storyline for Sebastian Ferrese,’ Melanie muttered. Her stomach rumbled and she swore. ‘I’m dying for my dinner – get ready and let’s go down.’ She walked over to the mini-bar and opened it, studied the contents, chose a packet of potato crisps and a can of Diet Coke.

‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Mel, don’t stuff that crap into yourself,’ Laura objected, as Melanie tore open the crisps. ‘You’ll ruin your appetite.’

‘Fuck off. And hurry up, will you?’

Laura went into the bathroom, peeled off her sweat-slick clothes and dropped them into the laundry basket. The Italian heat was exhausting – why did they have the festival in August? Watching films in this appalling temperature, even in air-conditioned theatres, was no picnic, and walking about today she had felt as if she was in a sauna.

She turned on the shower and stood under the jets of water. First an ice-cold sting her muscles, her nipples, her tensed shoulders and face, then the water changed gradually to lukewarm. She relaxed under it, eyes closed, breathing with delight as the moisture trickled down her hot body, oozed between her naked breasts, crawled down her flat midriff, the curve of her abdomen, along the creases of her inner thighs, down her legs to her toes.

Laura turned slowly to sluice every part of herself in blissful sensuality. You never appreciated water until you were in a very hot country.

That image was suddenly replaced by another: Niccolo’s dead kitten in the oil-slicked water of the Grand Canal. She had looked up at Sebastian, tears in her eyes. ‘I left it on the sofa in the salon. How could it have got into the canal?’

‘Its neck looks broken – it must have fallen out of a window.’ He sounded so offhand, but there was a darkness in his eyes that frightened her. Clea had fallen out of a window. Was that what he was thinking about?

How
had
the kitten died? Nobody would want to kill a kitten. It must have been an accident. It must have climbed up to the window and fallen out.

She had stared back at the palazzo vanishing into the dark blue night, lamps lit on the walls of the landing-stage, the upper windows of the salon glowing gold and pink. They were all closed, to keep out the mosquitoes and moths. The kitten couldn’t have fallen out.

The kitten had been so small and soft; she thought of the fast beating of that tiny heart under her fingers, the stare of those milky blue eyes, and tears burned in her own.

Sebastian said abruptly, ‘My mother died out here. She drowned, too. Soon afterwards we left Venice, my father and I, and went to the States.’ He looked round at her. ‘I want to make a film here. On location at Ca’ d’Angeli. It may exorcise some ghosts. And there’s a major role in it for you, Laura …’

She heard Melanie bellowing from the bedroom for her to hurry and switched off the water, wrung out her hair and pinned it up deftly at the back of her head before she stepped out of the shower.

She towelled herself dry rapidly and put on clean underclothes she had laid out in the bathroom cupboard, before she went back into the bedroom to find something to put on.

Mel was turning Jancy upside down so that her dress fell over her head. ‘I see you still go around with this doll. When are you going to grow up?’

Laura took Jancy away from her and put her gently in her accustomed position at the foot of the bed. ‘She’s the best friend a girl ever had. She never argues or criticises, just listens to whatever you want to tell her and nods sympathetically.’

‘Nods? What the hell is it with you? It’s a bloody doll! How can it nod?’

Laura picked up Jancy and said, ‘She’s dumb, isn’t she, Jancy?’

Jancy nodded.

‘See?’

‘You did that! I saw your finger at the back of her neck, moving her head up and down.’ But Melanie was grinning; she had enjoyed the joke. ‘I have to admit, I could do with someone like that in my office. A silent nodder. Wonderful.’

‘I’ll buy you a doll on your next birthday.’

‘Diamonds would be better.’

‘Dolls cost a lot less.’

‘Skinflint.’

Barefoot, in a lace-trimmed white silk bra and matching lacy camisole, Laura went over to the wardrobe and flicked through her clothes while Melanie watched her.

‘The white dress, Laura. White always looks good on you – cools down all that red hair.’

Laura took down the ankle-length silk dress, classic in style, with a halter neckline and low back, and let it slither down over her head, the folds clinging softly to her body as it fell almost to her feet.

She stood back to survey the result. The dress gave her a very feminine line, emphasised every curve of her body, from her long neck to her breasts and on, down her shapely legs.

‘You look great,’ Melanie assured her.

Laura smiled, sat down at the dressing table and blow-dried her hair into its accustomed style, then started on her foundation. She brushed a dust of the lightest gold glitter on her eyelids, curled her lashes with mascara.

‘Get a move on,’ implored Melanie, but Laura was not going to hurry because she did not want to start perspiring again. In this sultry night heat, you were wise to move as slowly as possible, especially if you were wearing a white silk dress that would show every tiny stain.

‘There’s plenty of time yet. Men expect women to be late. I haven’t finished explaining about Sebastian’s film. He wants to shoot some of it in Ca’ d’Angeli. He needs the Count’s permission, which is why Sebastian invited Nico to breakfast.’ She looked wryly into the dressing-table mirror at Melanie’s disapproving face. ‘You see? I’m not being set up for a seduction scene. I’m needed to help Sebastian persuade the Count to co-operate on this film.’

Melanie sniffed scornfully. ‘He’s using you, in other words. As usual. And what’s in it for you?’

‘A starring role in a major film! That’s what we’ve been waiting for, isn’t it? He wants me to play the girl the brothers fight over, the one they call the Lily. She’s the central character and a lot happens to her. She’s raped by German soldiers, almost shot by partisans, her heart gets broken. You must see that this could be the break I need.’

Melanie had that blank, fixed expression, which meant she was thinking intently. ‘Maybe,’ she mused. ‘It’s true, we’re looking for a big break for you. Your career has gone very well so far but if you’re ever to be a star you need to get a major part in a big commercial film, and this could be it. Okay. But if it means you getting involved with Sebastian Ferrese I’m not sure that the price isn’t too high. There’s an atmosphere around that man. I always have the feeling he’s bad luck, and not just because of his wife’s death. The man himself has an aura.’

‘A lot of directors are pretty weird. It’s a strange profession. Like acting. I know some truly crazy actors.’ Laura grinned at her teasingly. ‘And as for agents … I know one who should be certified.’

‘Yes – for having an idiot on my books who won’t listen to a word I say!’ Melanie grumbled. ‘Don’t come to me to complain if he chucks you out of a window next week.’ She marched to the door. ‘There’s no time to talk this through. Come on, we’ve got to get downstairs. It doesn’t hurt to keep men waiting, but I want my dinner. Now, be nice to these men! They could do a lot for you, and even if they don’t, making friends in high places is always a wise policy.’

One eye on her watch, Valerie Hyde sat in her own room waiting impatiently for her mini-printer to finish churning out pages of notes she had earlier tapped into her lap-top computer.

It had been easy enough to get permission to search the local newspaper files and, as she knew the month and year of the accident, she had had no trouble in finding the reports of the inquest on Sebastian’s mother. She had been given permission to use her lap-top to take notes, expecting it would take just a few minutes to transcribe the news reports. She certainly had not anticipated uncovering what increasingly began to look like an unsolved murder.

She had continued to comb though months of files in the hope of discovering further information, but in vain: there was no report of anyone being arrested or even questioned, let alone charged or convicted of the death by drowning of Gina Ferrese. Valerie had considered approaching the Venice police for information, but had decided against that until she had had time to discuss the idea with Sebastian. He must have had some idea that there was a mystery attached to the way in which his mother died to have asked Valerie to go through the newspaper files. Perhaps it would be wiser not to probe too deeply yet, in case Sebastian already knew who had done it and wanted to keep it quiet.

His father could have been behind the death – who else would have had reason to kill Gina Ferrese? Valerie knew Sebastian had been devoted to his father: he might go to great lengths to protect the memory of the dead man, and, after all, what would be the point of digging up a long-forgotten mystery when everyone concerned was now dead?

When the printer finally stopped chattering, she collected the pages, put them in order and quickly read through her notes yet again.

Did
Sebastian know exactly how his mother had died? He had only been six. Had he known who died with her that day?

He had rarely talked about his childhood or his background, and Valerie’s curiosity had been strongly aroused when she read the name of the man who was in the boat with Gina Ferrese. There was a lot more to this story than she had yet discovered – that much was certain – and, whether Sebastian wanted it or not, Valerie was determined to dig deeper.

Sidney McKenna lifted his head to watch the latest arrivals in the bar, his eyes narrowing to slits. He had a throaty, whisky voice after years of sitting around in smoke-filled bars drinking and shouting to make himself heard above the clamour.

‘There’s Laura. You know, she’s growing into her looks. When we first found her she was a gawky kid, like a young foal, all big eyes and long legs. Look at her now.’

Sebastian had seen her long before Sidney did – he had felt her walk into the bar, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck bristling.

Sidney was right: she had lost the heartbreaking vulnerability of the very young girl, which had moved him so deeply when he first met her. There is something about very young things that touches a chord in the heart as nothing else does.

After living with a woman who swore like a trooper, was belligerent, a street-fighter, very sure of herself, the hidden tenderness in Sebastian’s heart had loved the things about Laura that were the opposite to Clea – her shining innocence, the wide-eyed uncertainty, the way Laura never quite seemed to know where to move her hands and feet, the sudden scalding blushes that swept up her face.

She was a woman now, far more aware of herself, poised and cool, moving with calm grace in a dress that flowed down her body in a silky wave.

What had happened to her? He would never know. Clea threw the truth at you as if it was mud that she hoped would stick to you. Laura’s reticence was part of her natural defence system: she would never tell. He could only hope it hadn’t been as bad as Clea’s experiences in this filthy business.

‘She should cut that hair. I’d like to see it almost down to stubble, just a head full of tiny, tiny curls, like a baby.’ Sidney propped his elbows on the bar table and rested his chin in his palms, his long, sensitive fingers forming a frame through which he gazed at Laura. ‘Yes, that would look good. The hair’s too ordinary like that. She can challenge convention, she’s a one-off, she should exploit that. Of course, she’s too young to understand what she’s capable of – that will come, once she’s fully mature.’