by Gill Paul
‘It’s ridiculous!’ Helen exclaimed. ‘Why would they adopt a child if they were getting divorced? I don’t believe it for a second. Liz is passionate about her children. She never goes anywhere without them.’
Diana agreed. ‘We know for a fact that journalists make things up. Truth means nothing to them. Think of all the stories that have appeared about the filming here that we know are completely wrong.’
Eddie came into the office later to check some details of the week’s schedule and seemed his usual happy-go-lucky self.
‘Was Santa good to you?’ he asked Diana, then admired the crocodile-skin jacket she held up.
‘How about you?’ Diana asked.
He grinned. ‘A Rolls-Royce. Good old Santa!’ He kissed his fingertips. ‘You girls have a great day now!’
A Rome newspaper printed a story that purported to come from Elizabeth Taylor’s housekeeper, saying that she treated Eddie like a servant. That certainly seemed plausible, Diana thought. What Elizabeth wanted, Elizabeth got. If she fancied a few shots of vodka poured into her Coke to drink while her makeup was applied, Helen or one of the other makeup girls would rush to the bar to fetch some. If she wanted shooting to stop early because she had a party to get ready for, Joe Mankiewicz would do as she wished. And you would often hear a shrill cry – ‘Eddie, where are my shoes?’ ‘Get my robe!’ – as you passed her dressing room. She’d been brought up surrounded by people who indulged her every whim but that didn’t make her a bad person. She simply couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t famous. This was all she knew.
At least, that’s how Diana thought until the 22nd of January, just over two weeks after her return to Rome. It was the first day that Elizabeth was due to film a scene with Richard Burton. Diana had read the script that morning and knew it called for them to meet in Caesar’s villa, a meeting at which they were both attracted to each other although she remained Caesar’s mistress. It was a pivotal scene in the film. Of course, it was completely historically inaccurate. Caesar would never have invited the Egyptian queen to such a critical meeting with his young general and various senators – if indeed it ever took place. Diana mentioned this at the script meeting but Joe Mankiewicz shrugged and drawled, ‘Artistic licence, honey.’
The filming had gone well, everyone said, despite the fact that Richard appeared hungover and Elizabeth seemed tipsy. Word was they had ‘chemistry’, which was good for the movie. I suppose that’s what I’ve got with Ernesto, Diana thought. Chemistry. She’d never had it with Trevor. Not like this, anyway.
After they wrapped on sound stage 11, Diana went looking for Joe Mankiewicz because she had some information he’d requested about the port city of Tarsus. He wasn’t in his office so she traced his route towards the sound stages, wondering if he might have stopped to chat with someone along the way. And that’s when she saw Elizabeth and Richard standing very close to each other in the gap between a trailer and an office block, not far from her dressing room. They were still in costume. His arms were pressed against the wall on either side of her, so she couldn’t escape. Her head was tilted back as she gazed up at him.
Diana leapt back instantly. She didn’t want to be seen witnessing the encounter. Her heart beating, she retraced her steps to take another route, but seconds later she looked over her shoulder and saw Elizabeth hurrying into her dressing-room suite.
If they wanted to talk, why do so in such an out-of-the-way spot? There was no question in Diana’s mind that they were flirting but maybe it was just the heat of the moment. She wondered if pretending attraction in front of the cameras made actors feel it, just for that fleeting moment. She hoped that was all it was, for Eddie’s sake. He was so nice, she’d hate for him to be hurt.
That evening, she couldn’t resist mentioning what she had seen to Ernesto, and he tapped his nose. ‘Didn’t I tell you this would happen? I knew it months ago, not from anything they did or said but from the way Eddie acted around her. The man is a patsy.’
‘In that case, they’ll have to be extremely careful,’ Diana said. ‘If I saw them, goodness knows who else might have.’
‘They won’t be able to hide. You can’t hide anything on a film set,’ Ernesto told her.
‘I hope we can hide our friendship.’ She felt suddenly anxious. ‘I don’t want everyone gossiping about me. That would be horrible.’
He kissed her neck, making her shiver with lust. ‘You are beautiful, Diana, but I am glad to say that you are not the world’s most notorious femme fatale. Our friendship is private and I understand why we must keep it that way. It’s against my nature because I want to boast to everyone: “Look at this beautiful woman who lets me kiss her! What did I ever do to deserve such joy?”’
He covered every inch of her face with kisses and she rested her head back on the car seat feeling as though she would melt with desire. When she was with him, it all felt so right. But afterwards, as she lay in bed reliving every caress, she thought of Trevor and felt like an absolute heel.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Scott went to the Testaccio bar at the time suggested by the man who called himself Enzo and found him already sitting in a dark corner with a cup of coffee in front of him.
‘Money first,’ he insisted as Scott sat down. Scott handed over an envelope with the requisite number of lire enclosed. Enzo glanced at it quickly then tucked it inside his jacket pocket.
‘Allora, what did you want to know?’
‘I was told that the drugs in Rome are driven up from the south. Is that right? And if it is, why don’t the police try to stop them?’
Enzo gave a wry smile. ‘You think they are sitting on the passenger seat with a big notice on top? No, of course not. They are in suitcases with false bottoms, in secret panels in the car doors, inside tennis balls or medicine bottles. I know someone who transports heroin inside a statue of the Virgin Mary, which I think is sacrilegious, but what can you do?’
Scott had to ask him to repeat some unfamiliar phrases until his ear became attuned to the thick accent, with stresses on different vowels. He came from Naples, Enzo told him, making an effort to slow down and speak more clearly.
‘What happens after they get to Rome? Where do you take them?’
Enzo glanced over his shoulder. ‘I’m not saying I do anything myself,’ he cautioned, ‘but I’ve heard there is a garage in the Via Spagna where cars are taken in for servicing. When they are picked up the next day, or two days later, they are empty. Capisce?’
Scott was suspicious. ‘Why are you telling me this? Aren’t you taking a risk by meeting me?’
‘Not as much as you are, my friend,’ Enzo said, spreading his hands. ‘You don’t know me, you don’t know where I live. I could be telling you a pack of lies – but as it happens, I’m not. I want this trade to end. I want out but they won’t let me stop. Once you are involved, you can never leave.’
‘They? Who do you mean by “they”?’
‘Now that I can’t tell you.’
Scott pulled out his photograph of Gina Ghianciamina’s brother, the man who had attacked him. It was blurred but the figure was recognisable. ‘Do you know him?’
Enzo nodded straight away. ‘Of course I do. Everyone does.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Alessandro Ghianciamina.’
Scott narrowed his eyes. Alessandro, was it? ‘Is he involved in the drugs trade?’
‘This is common knowledge,’ Enzo told him. ‘Everyone knows he is.’
‘Why don’t the police do something?’
Enzo rubbed his fingertips together. ‘The police, the judges, the politicians: everyone turns a blind eye to protect that family. No one will take them on.’
‘Can you think of any way I can prove it conclusively, so the police would have to take action?’
Enzo laughed out loud, shaking his head in amusement.
‘You are so young, my friend, but you will not last long in Rome if you keep asking such questions. You are
lucky you chose me. I am cheating you because I am taking your money in return for telling you things that you could hear for free on any street corner. None of this is a secret. But if you go around asking people you meet at parties for evidence against the Ghianciaminas, you will be a cadaver before the summer comes.’ He pushed his chair back. ‘I think there is nothing more I can tell you.’
Scott stood to shake his hand. ‘It’s OK. You told me I’m on the right track, and that’s a good start. Can I get in touch again if I need to?’
‘Certainly not. You were stupid to trust me. You mustn’t do this again because next time you will pick the wrong person and they’ll go straight to the Ghianciaminas.’
Scott shrugged. ‘I guess if you were going to double-cross me you wouldn’t have come alone today. Maybe I’m wrong.’
All the same, as he drove back to the office, he kept glancing over his shoulder. Every time a bike revved its engine or a child shrieked, he jumped. Once in the office, he noted down all he could remember about the conversation, trying to capture Enzo’s exact words. He would describe the meeting as if in fiction, using the new techniques that Norman Mailer had perfected. He’d describe the bar, the man with a false name, and all the dramatic pauses and glancing over shoulders as they talked. Already he had begun to write it in his head, although of course he still needed much more information.
The telephone rang and he picked it up.
‘Scott?’ It was his editor. ‘How come you’re the only fucking journalist in Rome who hasn’t filed a story on Taylor and Burton?’
‘I’m on the case, boss,’ he said straight away. The rumours of their affair were all over that morning’s Italian press.
Scott zoomed down to Via Veneto to find Gianni. ‘What can you tell me?’ he asked. ‘Is there anything nobody else has printed?’
Gianni chuckled. ‘I have a friend who has a friend who works in the men’s makeup trailer at Cinecittà. He says that when Richard Burton came in to be made up this morning he announced with a triumphant clench of his fist’ – Gianni demonstrated – ‘that last night he “nailed” Elizabeth Taylor.’
‘Did he say where they did the dirty deed?’ Scott asked.
Gianni snorted with laughter. ‘In the back seat of Burton’s Cadillac.’
Scott returned to the office and filed the story.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The crunch came towards the end of January. Diana phoned Trevor during the afternoon and found him in a foul mood about some imagined slight by the colleague he seemed so jealous of. On the phone he sounded petulant, like a sibling vying for his parents’ favour. As she hung up, she allowed herself to think, Sometimes I don’t even like him any more. She used to admire his great wide-ranging intellect but when it came to women – when it came to her – he was blind, deaf and dumb. How could he not realise that his behaviour was driving her away?
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 crack
ing 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.
