by Susan Lewis
‘That’s between you and him. He does want you to get them blown up and framed for him though. He’s happy for you to choose the frames, but they should be chrome because that will fit in with decor of the yacht club he intends to hang them in at one of his marinas over in San Diego. And then, with any luck, other yacht owners will like them and you’ll have commissions coming out of your ears. It was a brilliant idea of yours to use that infrared film, he was completely bowled over by the effect.’
‘Mmm, it was pretty ingenious, wasn’t it?’ Sarah remarked. ‘You know, I’m coming to the conclusion that I enjoy shooting sea and landscapes more than I do people. I think I’ll talk it over with Erik, since he’s the real genius around here. When’s he bringing Danny back, did she say when she called earlier?’
‘No. She just said to expect her when we see her, but not to try contacting her at Erik’s because she won’t be there.’
‘And did you give her the satisfaction of asking exactly where she would be?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Good for you,’ Sarah grinned.
Feeling a shadow fall across her Consuela opened her eyes and removed her sunglasses. ‘Ah, Jake,’ she said, smiling up at him from where she was lying on a sunbed. ‘I thought you were in Paris.’
‘Your spies are letting you down, Consuela,’ he remarked, sitting on the end of the bed, ‘I got back last night.’
‘Was it a good trip?’
‘It was useful,’ he said.
‘And Mexico?’
‘Mexico yielded up what I expected.’
‘So you’re no longer angry with me?’
‘Angry with you?’ he said. ‘Now why would I be angry with you?’
‘You have no reason to be, but I always feel that you are. And at our last meeting you were, as I recall, extremely upset.’
Jake’s eyes were hard as he looked down at her, then picking up the suncream from the table beside her, he pooled some into his hands and started to massage it into her legs. ‘You’re still in pretty good shape for a woman your age, you know that?’ he said.
Consuela laughed. ‘Thank you for the reminder,’ she said. ‘Will you be staying long in France?’
‘Why, do you want me to?’ he countered.
She chuckled. ‘It’s all the same to me,’ she answered. ‘But it might not be to a certain young lady.’
The corner of his mouth drew down in a smile. He hadn’t missed the fractional movement of a curtain in an upstairs window when he’d arrived, neither had he failed to recognize Danielle Spencer. ‘You mean you haven’t succeeded in warning her off me yet?’ he said.
Consuela looked up from his hands. ‘It would appear you’ve made quite an impact,’ she answered, her soft brown eyes gently mocking him.
‘It wasn’t my intention, I can assure you,’ he smiled.
‘It rarely is,’ she laughed. Then she was serious. ‘That girl is very special to her parents, Jake,’ she said quietly.
Jake was very still. ‘Most children are,’ he said. His eyes were suddenly burning with fury, but Consuela didn’t look away.
‘If you’re thinking of using her to get back at me, then you’ll be hurting the wrong people,’ she warned.
‘And you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Consuela?’ he said bitingly.
Consuela looked away. ‘I have nothing to tell you,’ she said. ‘You are chasing rainbows, Jake, and I’m not going to help you.’
‘Because you’re afraid of what I might find at the end?’
‘It’s you who are afraid. I have nothing to fear. My conscience is clear.’
He laughed, bitterly. ‘And mine isn’t, is that what you’re saying?’
‘How can it be after what you’ve done?’
‘You know,’ he said, his eyebrows arched incredulously. ‘I think you’re actually beginning to believe your own lies.’
She reached for a towel and draped it across her hips as she sat up. ‘Jake, look at me,’ she said, a tremor of passion shaking her voice. ‘I am not lying. She is dead. She died that day on the yacht and we both know how she died. Now why don’t you let her rest in peace? Ghosts can’t talk so you have nothing to fear.’
‘She’s alive, Consuela,’ he said. ‘She’s alive and I’m going to find her.’
‘Why? So you can kill her again?’
His hand moved so swiftly that Consuela didn’t even know it was coming until her head jerked back under the force of the blow. She gasped, covered her cheek with her hand and glared at him. ‘That makes you even less of a man than you already are,’ she spat as he stood up.
Behind him he was aware of the young boys grouping, ready to come to her defence. For some reason it amused him and he started to laugh. ‘What do you want, Consuela?’ he said. ‘To see me in jail? Is that it? Is that still your burning ambition, to see me behind bars?’
‘It’s where you belong and you know it,’ she hissed.
He nodded thoughtfully, his humour still not abated. ‘If I go, Consuela,’ he said, ‘it’ll be with your blood on my hands.’
‘Mine and how many others?’
‘Just yours.’
‘Hah!’ she scoffed. ‘It’s already too late for that and we both know it.’
‘She’s still alive, Consuela.’ He smiled the reminder, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes now. ‘When you’re ready to talk you know where to find me,’ he said and dropping the suncream in her lap he started to walk away.
‘Jake!’ she called after him.
He stopped.
‘What happened to Dmitri?’
‘Dmitri?’ he said turning back.
‘The Greek boy who used to work here. What happened to him?’
‘I don’t know, Consuela,’ he drawled, ‘you tell me.’
‘Jake, I care about these boys, they’re my family now.’
Jake looked up and seeing that they had moved into earshot he grinned. ‘Then you should take better care of them,’ he said, and tossing his keys in the air he caught them and strolled off towards his car.
Mario Morandi’s apartment with its uninterrupted view of the glittering blue Mediterranean and small pebbled balcony high above the harbour at the Baie des Anges was at the peak of one of the triangular blocks which sat like four giant flared skirts on the borders of Nice. It was a small apartment, but the rooms were bright and airy with only the bare essentials when it came to furniture and though nothing quite matched it was, Sarah considered, quite touchingly him. Especially, she smiled to herself, because he was a little too big for the place. The only clutter was on the walls where paintings of all shapes and sizes jostled for space, most of which, he confessed shyly, he had done himself. Sarah looked them over with a critical eye, tilted her head from side to side, almost turned herself upside down but no matter which angle she viewed them at there was no getting away from the fact that they were some of the worst she had ever seen.
As she turned to look up at him she could barely stop herself laughing for his efforts to appear modest were hopelessly dazzled by the childlike pride shining in his eyes.
‘Would you like one?’ he offered, his eagerness tinged with an adorable uncertainty.
‘I’d love one,’ Sarah smiled. ‘Which one would you like me to have?’
‘I’d like you to take my favourite,’ he said, his cheeks reddening slightly as they gazed at each other.
‘And which one would that be?’ she asked, reluctantly tearing her eyes from his.
‘This one here,’ he said, reaching up to lift it from its hook.
‘Oh yes,’ she enthused, taking it from him. ‘I can see why it’s your favourite. It’s got so much … so much depth to it. Oh yes, yes. It’s really quite …’
‘Transanimatic?’ he supplied, helpfully.
She turned to him in astonishment. ‘You took the word right out of my mouth,’ she said, looking up at him as though overawed that their minds should move so eloquently along the same tracks. �
��What’s it called?’ she added, hoping that it might give her some clue as to what it was actually meant to depict.
‘I’m afraid it doesn’t have a title,’ he apologized, scratching his head and making his hair stand up. ‘Why don’t you give it one?’
‘Ah, uh, well now, let me see …’ She was thinking fast, wishing she knew what the hell transanimatic meant. ‘I know,’ she said, still stalling. ‘Yes, that’s it. I know just what it should be called.’
He waited, eagerly, excitedly.
‘Yes, that’s definitely it,’ she said decisively. ‘Yes, it can’t be anything else. It’s perfect.’
His excitement was growing.
‘I’m going to call it … Soul in Flight!’
She turned to look at him and blinked at the look of such incredulous admiration he was giving her.
‘That’s amazing,’ he murmured, almost reverently. ‘Truly amazing.’
Sarah beamed. ‘I’m glad you like it,’ she said happily, rather pleased with it herself. ‘Soul in Flight.’
‘Amazing,’ he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Absolutely, truly amazing. Especially for someone who doesn’t know what transanimatic means.’
Sarah’s blue eyes came steadily up to his face. He looked perfectly serious, was still gazing at his chef d’oeuvre as though not quite able to believe its brilliance. Then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch and felt the laughter spring to her own lips. ‘You’re winding me up,’ she cried.
‘Yes,’ he nodded, his lean face breaking into a grin. ‘But nevertheless it’s true. It’s a great title for someone who doesn’t know the meaning of transanimatic.’
‘OK, so what does it mean?’
‘It means the transference of a soul from one body into another.’
‘It does?’ she said, stupendously pleased with the choice now. She looked at the painting again and as dreadful as it was she suddenly adored it. ‘I’m going to cherish it always and it’s going to get pride of place when I hang it,’ she declared rashly.
He shrugged self-consciously, but was obviously bursting with pleasure that she liked it so much. ‘Would you like something to drink?’ he offered, taking the painting from her and leaning it against the wall. ‘I’ve got tea and coffee.’
‘Gosh, both!’ she said, shocked.
He laughed. ‘Something a little stronger?’
Sarah looked at her watch. It was eleven o’clock in the morning. ‘How about a pastis?’ she suggested, devilishly.
‘Pastis it is,’ he grinned, and went off to the kitchen, leaving Sarah to boggle over the rest of his bewilderingly myopic masterpieces.
She was actually on her way to Monaco to meet up with Erik who had agreed to spend the afternoon with her and her cameras in the wooded mountains behind Vence. But she wasn’t due to meet him until one, so had called Morandi to ask, on the off-chance, if he was free since she was passing through Nice. As it was Saturday Morandi was at home and had sounded as keen to see her as she was to see him. And, she had to confess, she’d been more than a little curious to take a look at where he lived.
‘How long have you been here?’ she asked following him out onto the balcony with the drinks.
‘Just over a year,’ he answered, removing a guitar from a chair to make room for her to sit down. ‘My sisters came down to furnish it for me, brought me all their cast-offs and I’ve never been too sure whether they left my nephew behind on purpose or not.’
‘Nephew?’ Sarah said, looking around.
‘Oh, they came back for him,’ Morandi assured her, tilting the flowery green parasol so the sun wasn’t in her eyes. ‘He was hiding under the bed, wanted to stay, didn’t want to go home.’
‘How old is he?’ Sarah laughed as he sat down.
‘Twenty-five.’ His face was so perfectly straight that Sarah couldn’t tell whether he was joking or not. Then she spotted the glimmer of humour in his eyes and laughed again.
‘Seriously,’ she said.
‘He’s five,’ Morandi grinned, and Sarah’s heartstrings stirred at how very appealing he was when he smiled.
‘How many sisters do you have?’ she asked.
‘Two and one brother.’
‘Now there’s a coincidence,’ she remarked, ‘so have I. Where do you fit in?’
‘I’m the eldest. And you?’
‘The youngest.’
‘Do you have any children yourself?’ he asked. ‘From your marriage?’
Sarah frowned. ‘How did you know I was married?’ she said.
‘You told me the other night.’
‘Did I? Oh. Well the answer’s no, I don’t have any. What about you? Do you have any? No, don’t tell me, none that you’ll admit to.’
‘Oh, of course I admit to them,’ he said, clearly shocked that she should think otherwise.
Sarah pulled her lips between her teeth and looked down at the mustardy yellow liquid in her glass. They were having some embarrassingly entertaining moments on the sense of humour front here and she was only glad that Louisa and Danny weren’t around to witness them.
‘All seven of them,’ he added, bringing Sarah’s head up sharply.
She gave a shout of laughter that was a little too overdone, but she wanted him to know that she appreciated his jokes. ‘Honestly! I almost believed you for a moment,’ she said, taking a sip of her drink.
‘It’s true,’ he said, earnestly. ‘I have seven children.’
‘And don’t tell me, your wife’s name is Snow White,’ she chuckled.
‘No, Tina. Christina actually, but she likes to be called Tina.’
Sarah’s smile was starting to wane. But no, he was having her on, he had to be. ‘So where is she now?’ she asked, watching him through narrowed eyes.
‘We’re separated. She’s in England.’
‘With the seven children?’
‘No, with three. The other four are with my first wife, Dolly.’
‘Just how many wives have you had?’ Sarah asked.
‘Only two,’ he assured her.
Sarah rested her elbow on the balcony railing and looked at him. ‘Are you winding me up again?’ she demanded.
‘No, no, not at all. Why, don’t you believe me?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Would you believe me if I told you you look lovely when you’re confused?’ he said, and promptly blushed to the roots of his hair.
‘I don’t believe any of it,’ she laughed, thinking there was no way a man who was so easily embarrassed by a simple compliment could have managed to work himself up to fathering seven children.
‘It’s all true,’ he said, ‘every word of it. It’s how I got into making the kind of films I do, it pays well and until my paintings start selling I have to meet the alimony payments somehow.’
Well that made sense even if nothing else did. ‘Yes, I was wondering how someone like you came to be making those kind of films,’ she said. ‘I mean you don’t really strike me as the type.’
‘Then how do I strike you?’ he said, smiling at her shyly.
‘You know, I’m not really sure I know the answer to that,’ she replied. She was tempted to mention something about Jake, but feeling sure it would distress him and bring that eternally worried look back to his face she decided not to.
‘I told you some pretty personal things about myself the other night, didn’t I?’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I remember all of them, but I hope I didn’t shock you or make you think I was some kind of freak or anything.’
‘All you did was make me think what a very wonderful and special woman you are,’ he answered with such heartfelt sincerity that she started to glow. ‘And I thought how very lucky I was to be with you.’
‘Do you mean that?’ Sarah cried, her sunny face shining with delight.
‘How can you even doubt it?’ he said, still bashful, but seeming to gain confidence by the minute. ‘I knew from the moment I saw you that you weren’t like other women.’
<
br /> Sarah pondered that for a moment. ‘Then exactly what was I like?’ she asked.
‘You were sweet and shy and your eyes were laughing. Your hair shone like silver, just like it’s shining now and your skin glowed just like it’s glowing now and you made me think of all the love ballads I’ve ever known.’
‘Really?’ she said, fascinated.
‘Really,’ he confirmed. ‘And what’s more you wear mosquito bites more beautifully than anyone I’ve ever met.’
Sarah burst into laughter. ‘I think I like you, Mr Morandi,’ she said.
‘Trev, please,’ he said generously.
‘No, I told you before, I can’t call you that. You don’t even look like a Trev. Thank God.’
‘But you look like a princess, which is what your name means.’
Sarah’s grin was so wide it was almost swallowing her dimples. ‘I’m awfully glad my friends aren’t here to hear you say that,’ she said.
‘But I’m very glad you’re here. Can I get you another drink?’
‘You mean you’re ready for some more confessions?’ she teased handing him her glass.
‘I’m ready to kiss you if you will permit it,’ he answered and this time it was Sarah who blushed.
She looked up as he stood over her, feeling ridiculously young and nervous. And, as he touched his lips gently to hers, she felt her own start to tremble. His mouth was warm and soft, commanding yet vaguely hesitant. As he straightened up she gazed into his eyes, then smiling awkwardly she looked down at her hands.
‘I think,’ she said hoarsely, ‘that maybe I’d better not have any more to drink. It’ll only make me brazen.’
Hearing him laugh she looked up, then reaching out for his hand she said, ‘I don’t want to lead you on and I just don’t know how far I can go.’
‘I told you before,’ he said, his eyes smiling down at her, ‘that I’m not going to rush you. We have all the time in the world.’
‘Have we?’ she said, thinking of Jake and Louisa. ‘You mean you’re not going to disappear when the summer is over?’
‘It’s you who’s going to disappear,’ he reminded her, ‘back to London.’
‘But what about when Jake goes? Won’t you be going with him?’
His eyes suddenly clouded and she felt his hand tighten on hers.
