by Jessica Ayre
Jennie made out the sound of nearby laughter and turned to see a group of tourists climbing the steps to the temple.
'So much for Attic serenity!' His voice was light, but his eyes smouldered as he drew her into the cradle of his arms, stroking her gently. Jennie nestled against him, her skin tingling with his touch.
'Perhaps Empedocles had a point about thinking with blood,' he whispered in her ear.
'Mmm.' She raised herself on one elbow looking into his face, warm in the sun. Her voice, she felt, couldn't yet be trusted, and instead, she fingered the rough tufts of hair on his chest.
He removed her hand gently. 'Not now, or I can't promise not to provide another spectacle for the tourists.'
He rose, pulling her up after him, and handed her her clothes.
Jennie felt her knees waver beneath her and she leaned against him as she slipped into her white sun-dress and sandals. He gathered up their things.
'Come on, let's make a visit to Juno—and the Dioscuri, mustn't forget that.'
He took her hand and led her back to the car where they dropped their bundle and then walked slowly in and around the various temples. Hot on their heads, the sun melted Jennie's thoughts. She walked as if in a trance, aware only of her body and his, their fingers coiled together in the heat. They were now treading slowly round a rather haphazard site, stone piled randomly here and there, when Jennie stopped, suddenly awake. In front of them lay a gigantic stone figure, brutal somehow in its very size. Derek laughed out loud at her expression.
'He was some kind of a man, as Marlene Dietrich might say,' he grinned.
'What?' The reference explained nothing to Jennie.
'He's called a telamon. Apparently there was a whole row of them, giant men over twenty-five feet tall, forming a kind of frieze, arms raised to support the temple's architrave.'
'He looks more like Gulliver in Lilliput,' a wide smile broke over Jennie's face. 'Can I step on him?'
'No one to stop you. But be careful how you treat your men,' Derek warned mischievously.
She threw him a playfully arch glance and made her way along the enormous blocks of stone which formed the giant. Her face was radiant. 'I haven't had so much fun in years,' she shouted to Derek. 'Ever…' her voice trailed off. She could feel his eyes on her from his distance, giving her limbs a new-found sensuality.
'That's enough of that,' he was suddenly upon her. 'I won't have you frolicking with strangers. Bad enough, your ghosts from the past. Come with me, you little wanton!' He pulled her laughing after him, and as he wound his arms round her, she slipped away and ran, happy to feel her legs moving swiftly beneath her.
He was upon her almost at once and she noticed the question in his eyes and behind it the glimmer of desire.
'You're not planning a little escape again, are you?' His voice was heavy.
'Not just yet,' Jennie smiled at him tauntingly. Looking at him, she was suddenly struck again by his rugged beauty. She lowered her eyelids, afraid that he might vanish if she gazed at him too long, and a sense of mystery pervaded her. This man, at once so intimate and so strange, these temples. She took his arm to test the reality of it all.
He passed his hand through the tangle of her hair and she winced.
'I'm sorry,' he said, his voice full of a throbbing gentleness. 'It's the egg, isn't it?'
She nodded.
'If I were a gentleman, I'd take you to a hotel now and put you to bed. Alone,' he added as an afterthought. 'But I'm not. The egg can fend for itself. You and I are going to wait for the lights to come on here. It's not to be missed.'
'The egg can certainly take care of itself,' Jennie agreed, amused. 'But as for me,' she paused provocatively, 'do you think there might be some coffee somewhere near this telamon of yours?'
Derek laughed. 'Your every wish, dear lady…'
They sat in a little bar, drinking coffee, watching the sun set over the calm of the temples. Then just as darkness fell, bells started ringing from everywhere. By a miracle of orchestration, floodlights suddenly burst on the temples, illuminating their symmetry as if for some secret ancient rite. They feasted their eyes on the sight and with no need for words rose in unison to stroll slowly round the temples.
Fireflies beat their wings in little shimmering points, while countless insects throbbed an eerie music. They found their counterpoint in Jennie's quick-beating pulse as Derek ran his fingers across the smooth skin of. her neck and left a trail of sensation along her spine. She could feel love clamouring in her veins and cleaved to him as his hard lips forced her mouth to an aching surrender.
His voice was gravelly in the darkness when he released her. 'Come on.'
She followed, like a sleepwalker at the mercy of a movement not her own, her slender frame a fragile covering for the pounding of her blood, her entire being suffused with a yearning ache for the lithe night creature at her side.
She couldn't quite recollect how they had arrived there, but suddenly they were in a room with louvred doors thrown open to starlight. Derek's eyes were dark with desire as they raked over her face. His fingers on the nape of her neck beneath her heavy hair, on her throat, her breasts, cleared a path for his urgent lips. A tumult stirred in Jennie's blood, making her pulse beat wildly. She sought the sweet relief of his mouth, but its crushing weight only made her limbs molten with heaviness. With the grace of a tiger, he lifted her on to the bed and buried his glistening head in her bosom.
'So beautiful,' he breathed, his breath hot in her ear.
As she felt his firm hardness covering her, stirring secret places within her, Jennie suddenly stiffened perceptibly against him. He arched away from her and looked into her eyes enquiringly. 'What is it, Jennie?' His voice was soft.
She felt an uncontrollable sob breaking from her throat. But it was followed by no other sound.
'Don't you want me?'
She couldn't find any words with which to answer him.
A flicker of something that might have been anger passed through his eyes. Then his face registered astonish-merit. 'Tell me, Jennie, is it… is it the first time?'
She nodded, all at once overcome with a cold sadness.
'Why didn't you tell me? I thought… Max…' his voice was husky with controlled passion.
Then abruptly, before she had a chance to answer, he was far from her, looming tall over her, his face set in grimness.
'And all that high-handed business about painting male nudes, what was that? A little bit of random teasing to get your own back at these male creatures you say you so dislike?' Contempt dripped from his voice. 'Well, personally I'm not in the business of being teased or of seducing little girls who pretend to be women!'
He threw her a scathing look and before she could say anything, the door had shut behind him.
Sobs racked Jennie's slender frame, to be replaced in time only by a yawning ache in which she felt she would drown. She forced herself to get up and wash her face, pull on a nightdress, and then she huddled in her bed, trying desperately to come to terms with her desolation. A slender thread of sanity presented itself to her at last and she grasped at it: the humiliation was as much his as hers. Here she had been thinking he could see right through her! How dared he presume that she was some woman of the world out for a little sensual escapade with an attractive man? But the corollary of that line of thinking weighed heavily on her. It spelled out all too clearly that that was precisely what he too was doing: engaging in a little fling, no strings attached. The ache engulfed her again, more terrifying in its totality than anything she had felt at Max's rejection, at the recognition of what she had thought was her frigidity.
A knock at the door sent hope racing through her, but it opened to show a waiter carrying a tray. Jennie was unable to prevent a slightly hysterical giggle from rising to her throat. If nothing else, Derek was considerate about feeding her. But the laughter choked her. She poked at the food, giving it up to tumble back on the bed and let the tears cascade down her cheeks in th
e silence of her pillow.
She slept fitfully, waking drained and at once fully aware of everything that had passed. Glancing at her watch, she realised it was already late and the greyness of the light was due to a change of weather. She opened the shutters to a covered sky that threw a mournful light on the valley in the distance. Shuddering, she dressed quickly and went downstairs.
Derek was standing at the reception desk. She came up behind him and he turned, startled by her sudden presence. His face was tired and as their eyes met in intimacy, a pang went through her, wrenching her in half. But the moment passed as soon as it had come. His voice was politely formal.
'We'd better leave immediately. I've got to arrive in time for a meeting with Enrico.'
'I'm quite ready,' Jennie said coolly, controlling an impulse to touch him.
In the car he handed her a small package. 'I bought you a little present, a souvenir. I'm afraid I was a little unfair last night.' His eyes searched her face.
She tore open the wrapping with clumsy fingers. Inside was a small terra-cotta vase, its sunbaked earth engraved with two dancing figures, male and female. She flung it from her. 'I don't need any reminders,' she said tersely, 'reminders of the fact that you see me as a casual little diversion from your main interests.'
His face registered anger. He looked as if he were about to shake her and only the greatest of self-control prevented him.
'Suit yourself.' His voice was harsh.
They drove silently, swiftly, as if Derek's urge to get back propelled the car. When they reached the mountains, a fog filled with cold raindrops descended and he stopped to put up the car's hood.
'Weather to suit our mood,' he said grimly.
Headway was slow now, and Jennie could feel Derek's barely contained rage enveloping her. She sat stiffly, her head beginning to throb with tension.
When they finally arrived back at the hotel, his glance rested on her only for a moment as he passed her her bag before striding off with an almost inaudible, 'Take care of yourself.'
Jennie went to the reception desk to get her key, and with a wide smile, the assistant handed her her stolen bag.
She chuckled wryly to herself at the small mercies the day had brought. Then she walked slowly to her room, threw herself on her bed and gazed listlessly at the ceiling.
CHAPTER NINE
At Kathy's insistence, Jennie went down to dinner that evening. Her pallor, her low spirits were luckily explained by the mugging, and Kathy's solicitousness helped to make the meal pass. They were joined by Piero, whose concern for Jennie voiced itself in criticism of conditions in Sicily and the need to change them. His passionate analysis, the care he showered on her, almost made her forget her despondency. He had really became something of a friend. It was only when she saw Derek entering the dining room with Matthew, Enrico and Daniela that her sense of desolation came flooding back. She excused herself, pleading fatigue and the need to rest before tomorrow morning's early start.
The next morning rose bright and clear in total contradiction to Jennie's mood.
'Oh, do cheer up, Jennie,' Kathy pleaded with her as they dressed. 'We're off to a new location today and I can't wait to see more sights.'
Jennie forced a smile, making sure it stayed on her face to please Kathy. They tumbled into the bus, but Jennie saw nothing of the scenery on the way and when they emerged in a little lowland hamlet surrounded by olive groves terraced in lava black rock, she was barely aware of the eerie beauty of the scene. More dark faces greeted her, this time in a somewhat more comfortable home; more children; more coffee. She set out her things and waited for Daniela and the other actors to arrive.
But when Daniela did, Jennie was unprepared for the shock of the encounter.
'Ah, you're back, are you? I thought I might be spared your incompetence for another few days,' she said vehemently as she flounced into a chair.
Jennie bristled, but she controlled an angry retort, simply motioning for Daniela to move in front of a mirror. Kathy looked on, worried. Jennie slipped a plastic cap over Daniela's hair.
'I'm afraid it's back to the old matron today, Daniela.' Jennie couldn't keep a note of irony out of her voice.
Daniela gave her a scathing glance, 'If you want to play competitive games, my little girl, be very careful. I promise you I'll win. I'll win him.' Her green eyes flashed warning at Jennie, but then she said nothing more. It was only after Jennie had finished making her up and she looked at herself in the mirror that Daniela let her temper fly. Jennie stood back, shocked by its vehemence.
'No, e impossibile!' Daniela rose out of her chair sending it toppling behind her. 'This won't do.' She tore the plastic cap off her head and started rubbing the wrinkles and creases off her face with an energy that bordered on violence. Turning to the others now gathered in the room, she shouted, 'Get Derek or Matthew here at once! Presto!'
Derek appeared as if from nowhere. 'What is it?' he asked Daniela coolly. 'What's the problem?'
'It's this girl!' Daniela shouted, pointing at Jennie. Then with stinging coldness, 'She's incompetent. I will not let her touch me again!'
Derek took Daniela's arm and looking deeply into her eyes said a few things softly in Italian. Then he led her gravely, gently towards the door. At the threshold, he turned and behind Daniela's back gave Jennie a comforting smile.
Jennie's hands were trembling as she went to work on her next subject. She continued automatically until an unmistakable presence at her side made her pulse race. Derek drew her into a quiet corner of the room.
'Daniela's on the warpath. And she can be a very dangerous woman when aroused, as I know only too well,' he sighed dramatically, and then looked at Jennie with a wry smile, as if examining her afresh. 'Believe it or not, she's jealous of you. But there's no reason for it, is there, Jennie?' His voice was suddenly low, insistently serious. 'Is there?'
Jennie could feel her heart beating violently beneath her thin dress, making her tongue thick. She wanted to scream her love at him, but no sound emerged from her lips. After what seemed an eternity, he shrugged, 'I've reassured her as to the purely incidental, purely professional, or should I say painterly, nature of our interest in each other.' There was a passing glint of mockery in his eyes. Jennie wasn't sure whether it was real or she had merely imagined it, for his voice now was earnest.
'I've calmed her down. But, Jennie, I'll need your help. A little teamwork, please. Treat her respectfully, gently, reassure her. It's important. Otherwise she may turn this whole film into a disaster.' He squeezed her shoulder, as if to give her courage. But the touch might have been Matthew's. It was one professional talking to another. Jennie rose to the challenge.
'I'll do my best,' she said, avoiding his eyes. She returned to her table, just as Daniela, coffee in hand, came through the door.
Jennie moved into action. 'Come and sit down, Daniela. I'm sorry I was so clumsy before. You were absolutely right to say I was incompetent. That bumpy bus ride must have done something to my hands. But they're steady now, see?' She held her hands in front of Daniela and then with deliberate gentleness began to wash off the remains of the previous make-up job. As Daniela began to relax under her hands, Jennie chatted, told her what a wonderful woman her mother seemed, how delightful Giancarlo was and just like her. She managed to keep her tone easy, sincere, and she could feel Derek's glance clothing her with approval, as if she had passed the test. So this is what's meant by teamwork, she sighed inwardly—all the while keeping up the bubbly chatter, yet wondering whether Daniela was really fooled.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. There was no further sign of Derek. Daniela seemed calm even at the end of the long day's shooting when Jennie removed her make-up. But it was a calm which made Jennie feel uneasy, as if the storm were to burst at any minute. Even the note from Derek in the hotel pigeonhole did little to stem her unease. 'Thanks, Jennie,' it read, 'you did brilliantly. Keep it up.'
The storm broke the next day and Jennie's ef
forts could do little to assuage it. Daniela rampaged to the extent that Jennie found it difficult to remember the generous, intelligent woman she had known in London. The thought occurred to her that it was all, of course, an act, and there was no better actress than Daniela when she put her mind to it. And the purpose of that act, it came clear to Jennie in a flash, was to get rid of Jennie. She chuckled bitterly to herself, remembered how she had sensed Daniela's ruthlessness, how Daniela had promised her she would win. And now, without Derek's help, she was powerless. There was no way that a mere make-up girl could triumph over the star.
But where was Derek?
Piero told her that he had left early that morning for Rome with Enrico. They weren't sure when he would return. Jennie shivered. He hadn't even bothered to tell her. So it was all over. Everything was over. It was merely a question of time.
The first ultimatum came that very day. Daniela couldn't bear to have Jennie anywhere near her. She wanted her off the set. Piero tried to reassure Jennie that the mood would pass, but Jennie knew better. She lolled listlessly round the hotel beach for two days. Early on the morning of the third, Matthew asked her if she could give him a few minutes.
Embarrassment evident in his every gesture, he told her, as kindly as he could, that it would probably be best if she returned to London. Daniela's temper showed no signs of improving and she made it clear that she wanted Jennie away.
'Quite irregular,' Matthew shook his iron-grey head. 'But I've wired the studio to say that you would be coming back. And I've praised your work, so don't worry about that.'
Jennie shrugged. She had expected nothing different. There was a cold deadness in her which seemed to make the worst inevitable. She packed methodically in preparation for the morrow's departure, flinging her white lace skirt in the dustbin. No need for that in London, she thought to herself with a shudder. When Piero knocked to ask if he could take her into Cefalu for a goodbye meal, she acquiesced, forcing herself to be cheerful for him. The effort drained her, and when he kissed her a friendly goodbye at the door, promising to see her when he next came to London, and to write, it was all she could do to smile sadly at him and say how much she looked forward to that.
