The Opal Desert (3 page)

‘I meant that, about the dancing, the wild night out,' he said, rising from his seat.

‘If you really want to,' she said. ‘I hope your daughters will be impressed.'

‘I'm not doing it for them,' he said, contradicting himself. ‘I'm going to do it for me. You pick the place. Thursday night okay with you?'

To their surprise, by the end of Thursday evening they both agreed that they'd had a brilliant time. Kerrie had asked her friends the best place to go dancing and their suggestion had been perfect. She felt strange going into a trendy club with a man old enough to be her father, even if a very young one. Initially dancing with Milton had been awkward, but as the floor space became more limited they had been forced to stay in one spot, wildly gyrating or clinging together, bodies sensuously rubbing together in time with Madonna's ‘Vogue'.

In the heady atmosphere, combined with the music and the swift downing of drinks, Kerrie's inhibitions slipped, and she didn't care what anyone else thought about her date. Later, as they pushed their way through to the back bar, she noticed a sexy waitress flirting with Milton, who didn't seem to mind at all. Then, when he struck up a conversation with two girls drinking beside them at the bar, she felt a rush of jealousy. He was amusing and attractive to women, that was clear. Not that those girls would realise that he was famous. However, when a roving photographer spotted Milton and took a photo of him with his arm draped around Kerrie, one of the two girls later asked her, ‘Who's your boyfriend then? Someone famous?'

‘Just my favourite uncle,' Kerrie said airily, as the girls hooted at her in disbelief.

To Kerrie's disappointment when Milton took her home he kissed her ardently then pushed her gently away.

‘Too much wine. Get some sleep. I'll call you soon.'

‘Do you feel lighter?' she asked, nuzzling him. ‘You're fun. Half the girls there had the hots for you.'

‘Lucky for me I had you. G'night, Kerrie-cups,' he said as she walked into her house.

Two days later Kerrie found that she was the subject of some interest in class when the photograph of her and Milton appeared in the paper. Her friends teased her.

‘Are you taking private classes?'

‘Or modelling for the master, perhaps?'

She merely smiled and kept her head down. It was Sam who suggested that she should be careful. ‘Watch yourself, Kerrie. Remember, you aren't the first and won't be the last.'

‘Sam, you're not telling me anything I don't already know,' she retorted. ‘Anyway, I'm learning a lot.'

‘I bet you are.'

‘It's not like that at all. And I certainly haven't slept with him if that's what you're hinting at.' said Kerrie. ‘Not that it's your business, anyway.'

‘Bet you do.'

Kerrie laughed. ‘We'll see.'

Kerrie's mother was pleased that Kerrie was obviously in the throes of a new romance, but she was surprised when a friend at her bridge club showed her the photograph of Kerrie and Milton at the club.

‘Kerrie, is this the man you're seeing?'

‘It was just a date, Mum.'

‘But when you said you were going out with a sculptor, I assumed it was someone from your art school. A student, not a teacher. You're only twenty-two and this man looks so much older. I'm not sure what your father would think.'

Kerrie waited for another comment about her late father, a man who had died when she was eleven, but whose presence was always in their lives as her mother had raised him to a level close to sainthood. Kerrie had warm memories of him but her mother had declared that no other man could measure up to her late husband. So she devoted herself to the home they had made together and raised their only child. Glynis Jackson had worked as a secretary in a small building firm, but her husband had left them comfortably off in their northern beaches home, near the good school where Kerrie had been sent.

Kerrie could not fault her mother's devotion and perhaps the only criticism she could make of her mother was the fact she kept so much to herself. Her mother's best friend was her late husband's sister whose two sons worked interstate and rarely visited, so Kerrie hadn't grown up with much family around. Even at Christmas the two of them had enjoyed the time by themselves, generally going to the beach for a picnic lunch. At other times of the year they might go to barbecues at neighbours' places. As a teenager Kerrie sometimes spent time with girlfriends' families, but never stayed away much more than a night.

‘Well, I hope you know what you're doing, Kerrie. Older men can be very . . . casual. Don't get too serious. I don't want you getting hurt,' said her mother.

Kerrie was amused by her mother's advice. Glynis was a woman who'd always prided herself on the fact that she'd never gone out with any man other than Kerrie's father. ‘You sound very worldly, Mum. Don't worry, we're just having fun.'

‘No offence, darling, but why on earth would a man as sophisicated as Milton Faranisi be interested in you?

I know you're young and pretty, but I think that you could be just an easy target.'

The remark was said quite innocently and Kerrie knew there was no deliberate malice, but the blatant comment made her laugh out loud. ‘He says I make him feel young. He likes the fact I'm deeply interested in his work. I don't make any demands on him. His daughters are very immature, so they don't really provide him with stimulating company.'

‘So he has a family? Have you met them yet?'

‘Oh, Mum, lighten up.' Kerrie laughed. ‘I'm happy, I'm having a good time, and there are no strings attached, I promise.'

‘Well, I hope that you're right.'

‘He's not a bad man, Mum. He's full of life, and he's kind and generous. I know he's famous in Australia, but he makes me feel important, too. He really does like talking with me,' said Kerrie with some heat.

‘Talking!' snapped her mother. ‘Well, I just hope you know what you're doing. Please be careful.'

‘Mum, I'm just fine. You worry too much and there's no need.'

Not surprisingly, Kerrie and Milton did become lovers and Kerrie never felt more womanly or sensuous. Milton was unlike the boys she'd previously had sex with. At the time, she had thought that they were enamoured and deeply in love with her, but she now saw how shallow they'd been, merely satisfying themselves. Any time they subsequently spent with her seemed like an obligation for a sexual payoff.

Milton was different. He pleasured her, lingered over her body, played with her, teased her and satisfied her. Sometimes she skipped a class to while away an afternoon in his studio where he had a single bed and a long table littered with hand-painted bowls, empty pizza boxes, a wine decanter and sketchbooks. A shelf held some of his clothes. There was a small kitchen and in the garden was an open-air shower hooked to the roof. Its floor was merely wooden slats and the water ran underneath it and onto a garden that contained one of his bronze works rising from a small pond. A large cement square at the end of a driveway was specially constructed with scaffolding designed to hold weighty stones which could be lifted in place by a hoist. A shed was fitted out with a forge and also contained woodworking tools and more machinery and equipment for making moulds and casts than there were at the art school.

Kerrie loved Milton's studio, a large space in the inner city completely surrounded by a thick wall of bamboo. If it wasn't for the banging and the sound of the machinery Milton used when he worked, few would have known of this oasis.

Once or twice he'd taken her to the house where he lived with his daughters when they were at school. It was a large home in Rose Bay with panoramic views, a pool and an overgrown garden. When Kerrie peered into the girls' rooms, she saw that they were filled with stuffed toys, posters and piles of messy clothes.

The master bedroom was coolly white with a large black and white Brett Whitely drawing on one wall and little else. The bed faced double windows with an expansive view of the harbour. But the house, apart from the girls' rooms, seemed impersonal to Kerrie.

Curled up in Milton's arms, Kerrie asked, ‘Why don't you have anything more personal here? This is like a hotel room.'

‘I've never liked this house. My wife bought it. I prefer my studio. I also have a little place in Italy that I like.'

‘Why don't you have a place here that you like, too? Isn't Australia your home?'

‘Would you like to see my place in Italy?' he asked suddenly.

‘Of course I would!' exclaimed Kerrie.

‘I can go next week. Come with me.' He was matter of fact – as if this invitation presented no problems at all.

‘Milton! I have art school. I have an assignment to do. What about your daughters? Will they be coming too?'

‘No, they have school. The housekeeper will look after them. And they are used to me coming and going these days. They'll be fine. Kerrie, if you come with me to Italy, you'll learn more about art than a year of lectures at that school.'

‘You said it was a good school,' protested Kerrie.

He nuzzled her hair with his lips. ‘But my school is better. Come with me. I like having you around. You'll like Italy.'

Kerrie sensed that Milton's offer was not an idle one and if she didn't take it their relationship would founder. In an odd way it was a kind of test.

‘You'll have to meet my mother first.'

‘Mothers always like me,' he said simply and kissed her. The decision was made.

Not surprisingly, Glynis was dubious at first.

‘I think that you're throwing away your career prospects. You're in your final year. You should finish the course.'

‘Mum, wait till you meet Milton. This is a fantastic opportunity. Just think what he'll show me. I'd be mad not to take up the offer.'

And Milton was right. Her mother was charmed. He persuaded her that he'd look after Kerrie like the precious treasure she was and, by taking her to the best galleries and museums in Italy, he'd give her a better education in art than she'd ever get in Australia.

‘I know every statue, carving and painting in every gallery and street and piazza in all of Roma!' he proclaimed.

‘I can see why you're smitten with him,' agreed Glynis later. ‘I know that I should protest, but I also know that it wouldn't do any good.'

‘Thanks, Mum. I'll bring you back a really good pressie,' said Kerrie, pleased to accept the olive branch.

Kerrie ignored her friends' digs about Milton and her impending trip to Italy. She knew that they were all wildly jealous and she took the whole thing in her stride. Sam told her that he thought that her
c'est la vie
approach to life made her a refreshing change for Milton, since he was probably used to more manipulative women who were after his money. But while Kerrie had no guile, she was not naive. She knew that Milton liked her directness and honesty and her ability to make him laugh. Moreover, the fact that she genuinely admired his work and was keen to learn from him flattered his ego.

They spent a month in Italy and Kerrie wished their time there would never end. She was thirsty to see as much as she could and because of Milton's growing reputation, they had entrees to private showings and meetings, and often dined with arts administrators, curators and other prominent artists. The two of them seemed so compatible that only once was Kerrie asked if she was Milton's daughter.

‘I think that we've had enough art for the time being,' Milton announced one morning. ‘How about we go down the coast so that I can show you my little villa?'

‘Where is it?'

‘Porto Ercole, a couple of hours south. I bought it years ago. One of the smartest things I've ever done. Back then Porto Ercole was a quaint fishing village, now it's a massive marina and tourist place but in the off season, like now, it's still a liveable place.'

Looking back, Kerrie always thought those days at Milton's very modest but delightful old villa with its views over the sweep of the bay and the town below were quite magical. Milton worked on sketches and ideas for a new work he had been commissioned to do, while Kerrie shopped in the small market and learnt to cook local dishes. She kept a diary in which she put small pen and ink sketches of people and scenes, as well as watercolours of the landscape and the buildings in the old quarter.

Milton didn't share his work ideas with her, nor ask to see what she was doing, although she did once catch him flipping through her sketchbook, then putting it to one side without commenting. However he was effusive and complimentary about her cooking of the regional dishes, and made her promise to make him an Italian meal at least once every week after they got home.

They took a break from the villa and Milton hired a convertible. Kerrie held her breath as he drove ridiculously fast and kept asking him why he had to drive like he was in a grand prix.

‘Just keeping up with the traffic,' he assured her even when they'd left the
autostrade
and were driving along the spectacular coast road. Kerrie couldn't bear to look at the sea below them as they wound towards Amalfi but once they were cruising through the picturesque towns and villages, she was entranced. They stopped for coffee and then wound uphill to the town of Ravello where they had lunch with one of Milton's friends in a villa which had spectacular views across the valley to the sea.

Afterwards they wandered around the small square, dominated by the cathedral, and along the narrow lanes behind the walls of villas with their hidden gardens and stunning views. Kerrie was enchanted. Milton took her to see the magnificent gardens of the Villa Cimbrone and there, over lunch on the terrace, he gave her a beautiful gold filigree bracelet.

‘It's from the jewellery store next to the duomo steps. You can change it if you don't like it,' he said. ‘Put it on so I can see how it looks.'