by Anita Hughes
“What did you say?” I spluttered.
“Gregory and I fell in love last winter when I interviewed him for Paris Soir.” Veronique stood at the window. “It was his suggestion I spend time on the set and interview the other actors.”
“But you said he was happily married!” I protested. “He loves his wife and he’s crazy about his children.”
“It’s been a marriage in name only for years.” Veronique exhaled a thin line of smoke. “Greta won’t mind as long as she keeps her name and the mansion in Beverly Hills. But the boys adore their father, what chance would our relationship have if I was the woman who broke up their parents’ marriage?”
“What are you saying?” I gasped.
“If the newspapers reported that Gregory Peck ran away with Veronique Passani, his children would never forgive me. But if Gregory had a romance with Audrey Hepburn that didn’t work out, they would accept the woman who helped him recover.”
“You wrote the article?” My eyes were wide.
“On-set romances happen all the time.” Veronique shrugged. “This one went a little too far. When Audrey Hepburn returns to New York to play Gigi on Broadway, Veronique Passani will help Gregory Peck mend his broken heart.”
“Does Greg know?” I asked.
“Of course not.” Veronique laughed. “He’s American, he isn’t capable of subterfuge. It’s a wonder the Americans helped us win the war, they would never have been able to fight in the resistance.”
“But you said you’d never give up your typewriter to get married.” I frowned, trying to stop my hands from shaking.
“The French know the most important thing in life is love.” Veronique stubbed out her cigarette.
“Did you ask Greg to pay attention to me?” I demanded, flashing on the picnic and the horse and buggy ride.
“Don’t be silly, Gregory admires you.” Veronique shrugged. “You should be pleased, it doesn’t hurt to have your name linked to one of the most sought-after actors in the world.”
“I think it’s terrible,” I snapped. “What will his children say when he doesn’t come home?”
“You’re going to be a famous actress with designers begging to dress you and men falling at your feet,” Veronique mused. “Some of us need to grab happiness in case it doesn’t return.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.” I stood up.
“I promise I will make his children happy,” Veronique said softly. “Gregory is a wonderful father, he loves them very much.”
Oh, Kitty, after Veronique left I threw myself on the bed. I pictured James in his Gieves & Hawkes suits and thought Veronique was right. I am lucky to be an actress and I’ve always had good fortune with men.
I dried my eyes and fixed my lipstick. I slipped on a white Chanel dress and ivory pumps. I put on silk gloves and pressed the button on the elevator.
“Miss Hepburn, do you have a comment about your love affair with Gregory Peck?” a reporter asked when the doors opened.
I looked at the reporter and took a deep breath.
“Have you ever been on a movie set? It’s impossible not to fall in love.” I sighed. “You fall in love with the fabulous location and the wonderful script and the glamorous clothes. I will always love Gregory Peck and William Wyler and everyone who made Roman Holiday possible. But the only thing I’m in love with right now is being an actress.”
“Are you saying the reports that you’re going to run away together are false?” the reporter persisted.
“I’m saying nothing on a movie set is real.” I strode through the lobby and pushed through the gold revolving doors. “That’s what makes it so utterly wonderful.”
The reporters finally disappeared and I went to Sant’Eustachio and had iced coffee and a profiterole. I’m tired of eating plain pasta and sautéed vegetables, I craved sugar and cream.
I watched couples stroll along the Piazza Eustachio and remembered Greg talking about love. I was silly to imagine he was thinking of me when he just needed someone to talk to.
But, Kitty, I lied to the reporter when I said I’m only interested in being an actress. I want a man to talk to and laugh with and share chocolate torte!
Audrey
September 24, 1952
Dear Kitty,
Today we filmed the final scene where I meet the press in the royal palace and see Joe for the last time. I was so nervous; I hadn’t seen Greg since La Repubblica printed the article. I sat in my dressing room waiting for Marie to bring in my gown.
Do you remember when we went to Convent Garden to see Margot Fonteyn in Sleeping Beauty? We couldn’t keep our eyes off her; she was the most beautiful thing we’d ever seen. That’s how I felt when I slipped on the Balenciaga gown. It’s pink satin with delicate pearl buttons. Marie fastened the Harry Winston diamond tiara on my head and said I mustn’t let it fall. Harry Winston lent it to Mr. Wyler and it cost thousands of dollars!
I stepped onto the set and saw Veronique Passani sitting in a chair. She wore a navy Chanel suit with a leather belt. Her hair was knotted in a low bun and she wore dark red lipstick.
I tried to avoid her but she approached me.
“I wanted you to see this before I give it to my editor.” She handed me a sheet of paper. “It’s my interview with you for Paris Soir.”
I scanned the first paragraph and then read it out loud.
“Hollywood announces a new Myrna Loy or Katharine Hepburn is born every minute, but it is almost always studio hype. A real talent has emerged in Audrey Hepburn, the star of Paramount’s Roman Holiday.
“I spent a month observing Miss Hepburn and the slight, elegant girl is transformed on the screen. Her eyes are like saucers and her smile could light up Paris. I predict an illustrious career for the effervescent young star.”
I put the paper down and looked at Veronique.
“You didn’t have to write that,” I murmured.
Veronique folded the paper and smiled. “A good journalist only writes the truth.”
I entered the set and my stomach was full of butterflies. Greg stood across the room dressed in a dark suit and white shirt and black tie. His dark hair was brushed across his forehead and he was freshly shaved.
Kitty, I said my lines and my stomach rose to my throat. Greg looked at me so fiercely I thought my heart would break. You can say it was only acting, that he was Joe realizing he won’t see Princess Ann again. But I know it was more than that, there is something between us I will never forget.
After Mr. Wyler said it’s a wrap, someone popped a bottle of champagne. I don’t like champagne, the bubbles make me blink and I get a terrible headache. But I was so giddy; I let the assistant fill my glass. I watched them roll up the red carpet and felt a tightness in my chest.
“You were wonderful.” Greg approached me. “I haven’t seen Willy so choked up since he won the Oscar for Best Year of Our Lives.”
“It was this gorgeous dress and these spectacular jewels.” I shrugged. “Anyone could be a princess.”
“I read the article in La Repubblica,” Greg mused, sipping his champagne.
“You’d think reporters have more important things to do than make up stories about an unknown actress.” I blushed.
“Love and infidelity make great headlines but one of the best things in life is friendship,” Greg replied.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“It’s rare you meet someone so beautiful and smart you know you’ll be friends for life,” he continued. “But when you do you cherish that friendship like a hothouse flower.”
“I’d like to stay friends.” I nodded.
“To our next picture together.” Greg raised his champagne flute. “Somewhere it isn’t so goddam humid your shirt sticks to your collar and the sandwiches aren’t made of dry turkey and yellow American cheese.”
I drained my glass and walked to my dressing room. I unbuttoned the pink satin Balenciaga gown and took off the Harry Winston diamond tiara and suddenly felt so happy. I
played a princess and made a great friend, life is wonderful!
Audrey
Amelia put the letter on the bedside table and walked to the window. She gazed at the twinkling lights of the Colosseum and the gold spires of Saint Peter’s Basilica. She pictured Audrey Hepburn in her satin evening gown and diamond tiara saying life was wonderful.
Shooting was almost over and Sheldon was very pleased with her performance. She had explored the catacombs and visited the Vatican and tossed coins in the Trevi Fountain. She and Sophie ate lemon gelato at Caffé Greco and shopped at the boutiques on the Via Condotti.
But she couldn’t enjoy the beautiful clothes or the delicious foods or the ancient sites until she told Philip the truth. What if he was furious and never wanted to see her again? She climbed on the four-poster bed and turned off the light. She pulled the ivory satin sheets around her shoulders and closed her eyes.
chapter twenty-seven
Amelia drew back the yellow silk curtains and stood on the balcony. It was late afternoon and the sun gleamed on the red rooftops. She heard church bells ringing and smelled fresh roasted coffee and hibiscus.
She walked inside to her closet and slipped on an ivory silk dress and silver sandals. She tied a red scarf around her head and put on dark sunglasses. She and Sophie were going to sit at Gusto’s and watch models stroll along the Via Veneto. Then she was going to come back to the Villa Medici Suite and rehearse until every syllable was perfect.
Philip left a message with Ernesto that he got a freelance assignment with a tight deadline. She missed him but she was happy to read her script and hear about Sophie’s dinners with Theo.
She took the elevator to the lobby and saw Sophie standing in front of the gift shop. She wore a yellow Prada dress and gold sandals. Her hair was knotted in a low ponytail and tied with a yellow ribbon. She held a magazine in one hand and a packet of Life Savers in the other.
“I’ve never had butterscotch Life Savers before.” She handed the packet to Amelia. “In Lentz we only had peppermint. I couldn’t understand why they made a candy with a hole in it.”
“That dress looks gorgeous on you.” Amelia admired the narrow shoulder straps and thin gold belt.
“I feel naked but Theo said it makes my skin look like honey.” Sophie crossed the black and gold marble floor. “Tonight we’re going to the Modigliani exhibit at the National Museum.”
They walked through the gold revolving doors and suddenly Sophie froze. She adjusted her sunglasses and hurried back to the lobby.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Amelia frowned.
“Did you see the white Bentley pull into the driveway?” Sophie whispered.
Amelia glanced out the plate glass window and saw an ivory Bentley with a gold grill. It had a walnut dashboard and creamy leather seats.
“Bentleys arrive at the Hassler all the time.” Amelia shrugged.
“Not ones with red and gold flags,” Sophie hissed. “That’s my father’s car.”
“Your father is in Rome?” Amelia raised her eyebrow.
“I talked to Elspeth this morning, she didn’t say anything.” Sophie twisted her hands. “He must have come to Rome to stop me from seeing Theo.”
“Does he know about Theo?” Amelia asked.
“If Elspeth told him I was in Rome, she could have told him everything.” Sophie sighed. “I was going to tell him soon, we just wanted some time alone together.”
“What are you going to do?” Amelia watched the valet open the car door. A tall man with blond hair stepped out. He wore a navy blazer and cream slacks. He had a gold watch on his wrist and a yellow silk handkerchief in his pocket.
“I’m going to tell him Theo and I are in love and want to get married.” Sophie strode toward the elevator.
“Where are you going?” Amelia asked, darting in the elevator.
“I can’t meet him dressed like this.” Sophie glanced at her yellow crepe dress and bare gold sandals. “I have to look like a princess.”
* * *
Sophie emerged from her closet wearing a turquoise chiffon dress with a scalloped hem. Her hair was scooped into a bun and fastened with a diamond chopstick. She wore diamond earrings and a ruby necklace.
“That dress is stunning.” Amelia gasped. It was cut below the knee and revealed Sophie’s elegant calves. She wore ivory Gucci pumps and a ruby and diamond bracelet.
“It’s Valentino,” Sophie replied. “He was my mother’s favorite designer. He visited the palace once a year with his new collection.”
“You’ll be wonderful.” Amelia approached the door. “I should go.”
“Please stay.” Sophie touched her hand. “My father can be intimidating, he’ll behave if you’re here.”
“Are you sure?” Amelia asked.
“Positive.” Sophie nodded. Her eyes were wide and suddenly she looked like a girl on the way to her first communion rather than a woman about to be a queen.
“All right.” Amelia nodded, sitting on a royal blue velvet sofa. “But if you want me to leave give me a sign.”
There was a knock at the door and Sophie ran to answer it. King Alfred entered the marble foyer and Amelia sucked in her breath. Up close he looked like a movie star. He had thick blond hair and blue eyes and a cleft on his chin. His clothes were perfectly pressed and he smelled of Armani cologne.
“Father!” Sophie exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Sophia, you look gorgeous.” Alfred strode into the living room and glanced at Amelia.
“This is my friend, Amelia Tate,” Sophie said hurriedly. “She’s an actress shooting a movie in Rome.”
Alfred took Amelia’s hand and nodded. “I don’t see many movies since my wife died, but she loved the cinema. You resemble a young Audrey Hepburn. We watched Sabrina a dozen times.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Amelia stumbled. “Sophie talks about you often.”
“Did Elspeth tell you I was here?” Sophie demanded.
Alfred turned to his daughter. “Of course not, Elspeth is incredibly loyal, she would never break your trust. Bernard has been keeping an eye on you.”
Sophie’s eyes flickered and she covered her hand with her mouth. “You had me followed?”
“Not followed, protected.” Alfred smiled. “You’re very precious to me.”
“If you knew I was in Rome, why didn’t you stop me?” Sophie asked.
“When I was twenty-three I sailed my father’s yacht to Mykonos. There were no cell phones or e-mails, no one knew where I was,” Alfred replied. “I caught my own dinner and ate paella and fresh figs and dates. At night I sat on the deck and read Hemingway and Dostoyevsky, it was the best month of my life.”
“You let Elspeth think she was lying to you.” Sophie frowned.
“It’s important to have someone you can trust with anything.” Alfred paused and looked at Sophie. “It wouldn’t have been a rebellion with my permission.”
“I’ve had a lovely time.” Sophie bit her lip. “I visited the Villa Borghese and the Vatican and the Colosseum. I saw Othello at Opera Roma and ate fettuccine at Alfredo’s and bought shoes at Prada and Gucci.”
“I haven’t been to Rome in years.” Alfred nodded. “But your mother loved to stock up on dresses and shoes and bags. We had to bring an extra car for her purchases.”
“And I met an American doctor and fell in love.” Sophie’s eyes were wide. “He’s handsome and kind and when we’re together I feel like I can accomplish anything. I can’t marry Prince Leopold.”
King Alfred studied the crystal vase filled with pink and white tulips. He looked at Sophie and took a deep breath. “When I was twelve years old, friends of my parents visited the palace. I looked out the window and saw a girl standing in the rose garden. She had white-blond hair and blue eyes and skin like fresh cream. She glanced up and her face broke into a smile. It was the brightest smile I’d ever seen.
“I marched into my father’s study and said I met the girl
I was going to marry. Her name was Lady Fanny Windsor and she was ten years old.” Alfred paused. “Twelve years later we were married in the Cathedral of Lentz and two years later you were born.”
Sophie stood up and walked to the balcony. She turned around and her eyes were moist. “You said you had an arranged marriage.”
“It was arranged by me.” Alfred nodded. “My father understood that I would be the best king if I had the woman I loved by my side.”
“Then why did you insist I have an arranged marriage?” Sophie demanded.
“Your mother was beautiful and bright and lit up every room,” Alfred mused. “When she died I could barely function. If I didn’t have heads of states waiting in the reception room, I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. I never wanted you to feel like that.”
“You didn’t want me to fall in love because you were afraid I’d get hurt.” Sophie shivered.
“Parents have done worse things to protect their children.” Alfred took Sophie’s hand. “I can see in your eyes I was wrong. You’re not a little girl; you’re a mature beautiful woman. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I lied about having the measles and made my lady-in-waiting keep my secret and printed a scandalous article in an international newspaper.” Sophie’s face broke into a smile. “I guess we’re even.”
“There’s another person you have to tell,” Alfred said slowly. “He’s come a long way to see you.”
Sophie’s cheeks turned pale and her lips quivered. “What are you talking about?”
“Prince Leopold is waiting in my suite,” Alfred replied. “I said I needed to talk to you first. Whether or not you marry him, you’ve been friends since you were five years old. You owe him an explanation.”
Sophie looked at her father and took a deep breath. She thought of all the things she would have to do as queen: visit hospitals full of sick children, comfort farmers when they lost their crops, welcome foreign dignitaries. She smoothed her hair and smiled. “Of course, tell him to come up.”
* * *
“If I had known you were going to be so beautiful, I would have insisted you wear the friendship ring I gave you when you were twelve years old,” Prince Leopold said, nibbling a cucumber sandwich.
