The Affair (19 page)

Over dinner with Ernesto that night, a subconscious devil-may-care attitude took hold and she let him refill her wine glass two or three times – she lost count. It loosened her, made her more daring. When he pulled up outside her
pensione
later, she reached across to initiate the kissing, and was surprised when he held back.

‘It’s cold tonight, little one,’ he said. ‘Too cold to sit in a car.’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘Let’s go upstairs then.’

In her head, she remembered him suggesting they could lie on the bed and kiss and that he would leave when she asked him to. That’s what she was imagining would happen as they climbed the stairs, and that’s certainly how it began. He kissed her mouth thoroughly, with tender, lingering kisses, then rolled her onto her front and stroked her, with a long firm movement from her bottom right up to the top of her head. Next he turned her on her back and began to stroke more and she craned her neck upwards, gasping for his kisses. It must have been at least an hour before he started slowly taking her clothes off, and another half hour as he caressed her naked body, and then at last he made love to her and it was a complete revelation. She had never known, never remotely guessed, that it was possible for her to react in that way. The sensations were unfamiliar and totally overpowering.

Afterwards, she lay in his arms in a haze of sensuality and sheer astonishment. Trevor had been her only other lover and sex had never been anything like this. He must be unaware that it was possible to please a woman in this way. How did Ernesto know? She didn’t want to think about that. He had fallen asleep and she examined his face in the moonlight, mentally rewriting her entire future. Who was this amazing man? Could he possibly turn out to be the person with whom she would spend the rest of her life?

When Diana opened her eyes the following morning, Ernesto was breathing gently by her side. She was overcome with lust, remembering the delicious sensations of the night before, but then she thought of Trevor and knew that she had done something momentous from which there could be no turning back. Before this, he’d been the only man she’d ever slept with; now he would never be that again. She felt a lurch of anxiety. He would be devastated if he found out.

‘
Buongiorno, bellissima
,’ Ernesto murmured. He pulled her close for a hug that soon turned into more irresistible love-making, so that she had to rush to get ready and had no time for breakfast before the studio car arrived.

‘Be careful the
padrona
doesn’t see you,’ she cautioned on the way down the stairs. ‘She might be cross that I have an overnight guest.’

‘Film companies often use Pensione Splendid. You’ll find the
padrona
is used to people staying in each other’s rooms.’

‘I don’t want anyone at the studio to know about this,’ she told him. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on Trevor.’

‘I understand,’ he smiled, touching her cheek. ‘But can I see you tonight?’

‘Yes, oh yes please,’ she breathed, and they both laughed at her eagerness. A final thought occurred to her and she moved close to whisper in his ear. ‘You’ll make sure I don’t get in the family way, won’t you? I can’t risk that.’

He laughed at her shyness. ‘Didn’t you see those rubbers in the bin? Calm down, Diana. I will look after you. I’m not some fly-by-night monster who will let you come to any harm.’

‘I know you’re not,’ she blushed. ‘Thank you.’

He hung back inside the doorway as she got into the studio car so the driver wouldn’t see them together.

I suppose this is what love feels like
, she thought.
I could have gone through my entire life without experiencing this feeling. It would have been a life unlived.

It was wrong to sleep with another man while still married – of course it was – but it was far too late to back out now.

During the course of the morning, she got no work done at all. Her heart was beating fast as she pondered all the options in front of her. She had never contemplated divorce before but now it seemed possible, maybe even desirable. Surely there could be no going back after her night of passion? Trevor took her for granted, whereas Ernesto seemed to cherish everything about her. She tried to compose the words she would use when she told Trevor she had a lover, but she couldn’t bear to imagine the hurt on his face.

At last she decided there was no need to think about it for now. She would phone Trevor from work every few days, just to make contact, and the rest of the time she would shut him out of her head while she saw how things developed with Ernesto. Already he was talking about the future: sights he wanted to show her when spring came, places they should eat, parks where they could walk. He assumed they were an item, and so did she.

The guilt always surfaced when she saw Eddie Fisher on the lot, though. His appearance pricked her conscience.

‘What do you think of this glorious weather!’ he called in passing, and Diana felt embarrassed as she agreed it was wonderful. Should she tell him that she had seen his wife in intimate conversation with her co-star? No, of course she shouldn’t.

Only a few days later, while having lunch with Helen, she heard some assistant cameramen cracking a lewd joke in Italian about Burton and Taylor ‘making the beast with two backs’. She glanced at Helen to see if she had understood, but found her lost in thought.

‘You’re still not eating,’ Diana chided. ‘You don’t want to lose any more weight or you’ll get knocked off your feet when the wind blows.’ It was something her father used to say to her when she was a picky eater as a child.

Helen was startled. ‘I was miles away,’ she said, shaking herself. ‘I’m not hungry today. I’ll just have a Coke.’

‘Do you think it’s true what they’re saying about Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton?’ Diana asked. ‘You know how people exaggerate round here.’

Helen wrinkled her nose. ‘It’s true alright. I’ve seen them loads of times. They’re always sneaking off together. She was in makeup one day when he popped his head round the door and asked if she fancied a cocktail in his trailer and she was off like a shot. She came back forty-five minutes later with her makeup so messed up they had to take it all off and start from scratch. Mr Mankiewicz kept sending messengers up from the sound stage to ask what was keeping her.’

‘It must be strange being famous. She’s being watched the entire time so they can’t keep anything secret.’

‘Eddie and Sybil are bound to have read the news reports by now. Imagine what it’s like for them. How humiliating to have the world knowing that you’re being cheated on! I don’t know how you could do that to someone you’re supposed to love.’

Helen spoke so vehemently that Diana was surprised. She looked at her closely. She was very pale, her blue eyes seeming huge in her pretty birdlike face. Under the table her foot was tapping. ‘Are you OK?’ Diana asked.

Helen shook her shoulders. ‘You know me. I’m just cross that everyone else has a boyfriend except me. Liz and Richard have a spouse and a lover each!’ She laughed, unconvincingly. ‘I suppose I won’t be so bothered when I find someone myself.’

‘Any new candidates?’ Diana asked, then lost concentration as Helen launched into a long list of men she liked on the set and what this one had said to her, and why she preferred another. It all seemed so childish. But even still, Diana was surprised that Helen hadn’t found a boyfriend yet. She was extremely pretty, with great fashion sense; she was a fantastic dancer and went out every night; and there was a naïve honesty about her that was endearing. Possibly she was too honest and gave too much away about herself. Maybe that’s what put men off. That, and the fact that she drank too much.

Diana resolved to tell Ernesto that she wanted to spend an evening with Helen some time soon. She felt protective towards her. Maybe she would be able to help her in some small way.

Scott took Gianni for a beer in a piano bar near the Via Veneto. They both ordered Peronis and stood looking round the buzzing room. Every table was crowded with fashionably dressed men and women, most of them foreigners and, according to Gianni, lots of them from the
Cleopatra
film set. In the corner, a pianist was playing but Scott could barely hear a note over the chatter in the room. The doors to the terrace were closed because it was a cold, rainy night, but he could see the lights of the city blurred by raindrops on the glass.

‘Does Elizabeth Taylor ever come here?’ Scott asked, and Gianni shook his head.

‘It’s too public. She will only go to private parties, or to restaurants that will give her a quiet table away from the public view. And you can be sure she won’t go anywhere with Mr Burton because every photojournalist in Rome is on their tail. The first picture of them together will be worth millions. I’ll do my best, boss,’ he grinned, ‘but don’t hold your breath.’

‘Shame.’

He asked Gianni about his sources on the set and whether any of them might be able to get photographs but was told that it was impossible now. Security had been tightened and everyone knew they would be sacked if they were caught with a camera at Cinecittà.

Scott kept an eye on the people from the film set. One group of girls appeared to be drinking heavily, as carafe after carafe of wine was ordered and slurped back. If he could get talking to them perhaps he could pump them for information, but approaching the table as a whole wouldn’t work. He’d have to try and catch one on her own. A blonde girl seemed particularly the worse for wear. She was resting her head on her hands with half-closed eyes when her elbow slipped off the table, making her jerk awake. Scott kept an eye on her and managed to intercept her on the way back from the ladies’ room.

‘Excuse me,’ he grinned. ‘I was just saying to my friend here how attractive you are and he bet that you wouldn’t let me buy you a drink. Will you help me win the bet?’

She hesitated, and Scott cursed his broken nose. He’d never had trouble picking up girls before but his face looked less trustworthy now.

‘You want to buy me a drink?’ she slurred, slow on the uptake.

‘Sure! What can I get you?’

‘A Prosecco would be lovely.’

Scott immediately called the bartender and ordered the drink. ‘Will you stay and talk to me or do you need to get back to your friends?’

‘I could stay for a little bit,’ she said. ‘They’re not really friends. I just go out with them.’

‘You all work on
Cleopatra
, don’t you? That must be fun.’

She was pretty but she could barely stand up. She kept wobbling in her shoes, which had high heels like pins, and he worried that her skinny ankles would snap. Her blue eyes were unfocused and her speech thick and slow.

‘It’s OK, I suppose.’

‘It must be pretty glamorous seeing the stars up close. Which ones do you like the best?’

Helen considered this. ‘I used to like Elizabeth Taylor, because she’s kind. She gave me her autograph on the very first day we were filming. Once I scratched her eyelid when I was sticking on one of the spangle things in her makeup and she was so nice about it. She told everyone it was her own fault for moving.’

‘That was nice. It’s not the impression you get from the newspapers, is it?’

‘No, they’re all mean about her.’ The drink arrived and the girl picked it up greedily and took a slurp then the glass slipped through her fingers. It splashed the front of her dress as it fell then shattered into pieces on the wooden floor.

‘Oops!’ She looked down in dismay.

The barman passed them a pile of napkins and Scott began to mop at her front, while someone appeared with a dustpan and brush to sweep up the fragments.

‘You seem tired, sweetheart,’ he said tactfully. ‘Why don’t you let me take you home so you can get out of your wet dress?’

The girl looked wistfully at the glass. She obviously wanted another drink but Scott realised he’d get nothing useful out of her if she drank any more.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll just tell my friends.’

Gianni raised his glass to clink against Scott’s, impressed at his successful technique. ‘See you tomorrow, boss. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

Outside the hotel, Scott decided to hail a taxi. Although the rain had stopped he was worried the girl might fall off if he took her on his Vespa and, besides, sitting in the back of a cab would give them more chance to talk. She gave an address close by and as soon as they drove off, Scott began to pump her with questions.

‘What do you think of Richard Burton? You said Elizabeth Taylor was nice. Is he nice too?’

‘He doesn’t talk to me,’ she slurred. ‘No one talks to me except Diana.’

‘Have you seen him with Elizabeth Taylor? Or do they keep their affair a secret?’

‘It’s disgusting,’ she said. ‘I think it’s wrong. Too many people, all getting hurt.’

Her head rolled onto Scott’s shoulder. He sighed. She wasn’t going to be much use to him tonight. He tried another tack. ‘Could I take you for dinner some time?’ he asked. ‘Maybe later in the week? You’re very pretty.’

‘You don’t even know my name,’ she said. ‘It’s Helen.’

‘I’m Scott. So how about it, Helen? Can I buy you dinner?’