Cruel Venus

by Susan Lewis

  Tessa was in the hotel lobby with Zac and Justine, feeling totally blown away by so much style and grandeur – and all the incredibly famous faces that were flowing in through the giant carved-oak doors. Amazing, really, that it should still surprise her how much smaller everyone was in the flesh, and rather ordinary without all the glitter and lights. But they’d have all that tomorrow night, in quantities that would no doubt out dazzle a Renaissance carnival in Venice. Today, though, the guests felt much easier to get to know, and were all charm and gush as the company publicists escorted them from Allyson’s and Shelley’s initial greeting, along the cobbled lane and into the hotel where Tessa and the two researchers were standing with Alan, the programme’s director. From there each guest was assigned their own personal hostess, who offered a welcome glass of champagne, or tea for those who preferred, and a short friendly chat about the hotel and its facilities as they walked their distinguished charges to their rooms.

  ‘My feet are killing me and my jaw’s starting to ache,’ Alan complained, smiling through his teeth as Shelley and Allyson finally wandered in to join them.

  Laughing, Allyson said, ‘You can stand down for a while, the next lot aren’t due to arrive until six. Are you OK?’ she said to Tessa who was starting to yawn.

  ‘Sorry, yes,’ Tessa answered.

  ‘What time did you leave the bar last night?’ Shelley asked.

  ‘If I’m going to be honest then it was about two thirty,’ Tessa confessed. ‘But I wasn’t the last to go up. Some of the crew were still there, so were …’

  ‘But they don’t have to appear on camera today,’ Allyson reminded her. Then turning to Alan she said, ‘What time are you setting off for Pompeii?’

  ‘About four,’ he answered. ‘We should be back around nine. Ten at the latest.’

  ‘Then make sure Tessa goes straight to bed when you get back, she’s got a busy day ahead of her tomorrow.’

  Tessa was grinning. ‘You sound like my mum,’ she said.

  Allyson’s answering look was so withering that Shelley actually laughed. ‘Nothing ever seems to faze her, does it?’ Allyson grumbled, as they strolled across the lobby and down the white marble steps into the piano bar.

  ‘Which is something you should feel glad about when you’ve got her hosting a programme featuring this many VIPs,’ Shelley reminded her. ‘How many of the sixty do you reckon you actually know?’ she asked, as they sat down at the table where they’d left all their producers’ paraphernalia.

  Allyson thought. ‘About half,’ she answered.

  Shelley nodded. ‘That’s what I guessed. Dinner should be interesting tonight, when we choose who we’re going to sit with. I mean who rates higher, the exiled crown prince of a lesser-known republic, or the reigning queen of the movie screen? Of course, they’ll all be wanting to sit with you …’

  ‘Let’s ask Terri Jankler,’ Allyson cut in. ‘Being one of the more elite and informed diarists she’ll be right up with all that. Which reminds me, she should start coaching Tessa on how to address some of these people … Oh smile, we’re on Candy’s camera.’

  ‘Great!’ Candy Egan, a freelance showbiz photographer declared, still clicking away. ‘Now get back to work, I want some shots of the heads together, like you were in the planning stages of this shindig. God knows who’ll want them, but someone might.’

  ‘Did you get all the guests as they arrived?’ Allyson wanted to know.

  ‘Every one of ’em. It’s going to be quite some show. Where’s the man, by the way?’

  ‘If you mean Mark Reiner,’ Allyson answered, ‘he’ll be arriving tomorrow.’

  ‘So is it true you two were here together a couple of weeks ago?’ a reporter from the Express asked, as he came to join them.

  Shelley shifted in her seat and let out a sigh of irritation.

  ‘I was here on a recce,’ Allyson said, smiling sweetly, ‘and Mark Reiner happened to be here too, sorting out last-minute details before the opening.’

  ‘So the answer’s yes,’ the reporter declared, ‘and straight from the horse’s mouth.’

  ‘Charming,’ Allyson muttered, sensing the way Shelley’s bristling was getting worse. ‘Now push off and interview some of the guests who’re outside on the terrace, we’ve got work to do here.’

  As Candy and the reporter disappeared out through the French doors, Shelley signalled for a passing waiter to bring them some tea. ‘And a couple of those fantastically decadent cakes you served up when we arrived yesterday,’ she added. ‘I’m starving. How about you? Are you going to have some?’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ Allyson replied. ‘But only one, or I’ll never fit into my dress tomorrow night.’

  ‘Which reminds me,’ Shelley said, as the waiter left, ‘I want you to help me make up my mind what to wear. I’ll bring what I’ve got to your room later.’ Almost before she’d finished her attention seemed to have wandered, for she was staring up at the lobby, absently watching one of the receptionists open a parcel. ‘I think we should take a walk around the village later,’ she said. ‘But only if you can spare the time, of course.’

  Allyson returned to her paperwork. She wasn’t going to rise to Shelley’s barbs, any more than she was going to hold her breath for Shelley to make any comment on the hotel, for she obviously wasn’t going to, other than to say she was pleased to see that the piano bar was big enough to hold the party without causing too much of a problem for the cameras. Since it was impossible to be anything other than enchanted by the Palazzo, Allyson accepted that perhaps it was too much to expect Shelley to voice her impressions when everything here belonged to Mark, and even if Shelley really had let go of that dream, seeing all this had to be a difficult reminder of some of what that dream had entailed.

  However, despite the allowances she was making for Shelley’s sensibilities there was no getting away from the fact that Shelley’s attitude was becoming increasingly annoying. It seemed just about anything was deserving of sarcasm or unfavourable comparison, and she was so snappy with the crew, impatient with the publicists, and stroppy with the hotel staff that Allyson was already dreading the moment when she’d have to step in. So, in an effort to keep Shelley on a more even keel, and make her feel as though she really did have a role to play here, Allyson was currently seeking her advice when she didn’t actually need it.

  It was an exhausting business pussyfooting around her this way, which was why Allyson was relieved when the publicists came to rescue her from a discussion that was starting to get tense, and whisk her off to talk to the new chef and his team who were on the brink of rioting over a suggestion that an outside company was being called in to help with the party. That was easily dealt with, as the chef was only rattled because it wasn’t his brother’s company that was being proposed for the back-up, but it was by the time Allyson left the kitchens.

  After further conferences with the publicists, and with Giovanni and his staff, Allyson went to see Tessa and the crew off to Pompeii, then before anyone else could waylay her she darted up to her room to get out of the formal suit and tight shoes she’d been in all day, before she called Mark. He’d fully intended to be here for the build-up to the party, but other business was keeping him in London with no guarantee yet of when he might get away. However, he was viewing this hold-up as a chance for Giovanni to establish himself as the hotel’s general manager, as well as a welcome excuse to delay the press’s intrusion into his private affairs, which was something Allyson handled with much greater skill than he did.

  ‘No, I don’t have a problem with people knowing about us,’ he responded, when she got him on the line and teased him about it. ‘But you’ve still got some pretty big decisions to be making, and …’

  ‘All right, all right,’ she cut in, ‘point taken. But I really feel like doing some wildly outrageous things to your body right now, and you’re not here to indulge me.’

  ‘With an offer like that I could be on the next flight,’ he told her.

&nb
sp; Laughing, she said, ‘Then you’d be just in time to greet Tim Collins and Natasha Koppell who’re flying in from LA tonight, on their own private jet no less. Do you know this golden couple, by the way?’

  ‘Sure, I was at college with Tim, and Natasha happens to be an old girlfriend of Nick’s from back before he was married.’

  ‘So did they meet through you two?’

  ‘Yep. As a matter of fact they met at my house in Bel Air, when I still had a house in Bel Air.’

  ‘I just don’t know who I’m dealing with in you, do I?’ she remarked dryly. Then, changing the subject, ‘Have you arranged for one of the limos to pick you up tomorrow? I’m presuming you will be here tomorrow …’

  ‘It’s all in hand,’ he told her. ‘Now tell me what you’ve decided to feature for the travelogue piece.’

  As she talked him through the latest plan for the coverage of surrounding beauty spots and places of interest, she wandered over to the window to watch the guests who were meandering through the gardens, or relaxing on the terrace that offered such spectacular views of the glittering sea below. It didn’t seem quite real, watching so many easily recognizable rockers and aristocrats getting a kick out of meeting each other, and entertaining each other to celebratory cocktails which were currently being served by a Russian princess and her cute little gigolo boyfriend. This particular princess, who had to be at least sixty, if not seventy, was someone Allyson knew well, and liked enormously, for she was always so lively and mischievous, and so hilariously outspoken on the elixir of young lovers that it was impossible not to fall under her spell after a mere five minutes of knowing her. However, she’d managed to upset Shelley earlier, when she’d offered to lend her her main squeeze of the moment if it would help Shelley to relax.

  ‘Why? Does Shelley seem uptight?’ Mark laughed when Allyson recounted the story.

  ‘She’s trying to cover it,’ Allyson answered, ‘but I think she’s finding it a bit difficult, being here, you know, having to face all that she might have had, if … things had … turned out differently.’ She’d allowed her tongue to run away with her, and already she regretted the crossover into disloyalty. Shelley might be a pain in the neck at the moment, but she deserved better, and Allyson didn’t imagine it was making Mark feel particularly good either, having the disappointment he’d inflicted pointed out.

  ‘It really never got that far with me and Shelley,’ he reminded her gently.

  ‘No, of course not,’ she said, knowing that in Shelley’s mind it definitely had. ‘I just think she’s having a difficult time all round at the moment, but I’m sure it’ll pass.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he responded. ‘Now tell me, did Tessa do all the history homework you gave her?’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ Allyson shuddered. ‘I tested her this morning, and got referred to as her favourite teacher, then this afternoon she had the audacity to tell me I sounded like her mother. You know, the way she behaves towards me, you’d never believe she ran off with my husband. There doesn’t seem to be any guilt, or regret, or apology, not even any smugness. As far as she’s concerned it’s like it never happened and we can be all chummy chummy again. Did you return that message she left you, by the way?’

  ‘No. She didn’t ask me to, so I just forgot about it.’

  Allyson turned round as someone knocked on the door. ‘I think I’ll have to go,’ she said, tightening the belt of her robe as she got up to answer it. ‘I’ll call you later, OK?’

  ‘I’ll call you,’ he said. ‘I’m going to be on the move, so it’ll be easier.’

  Ringing off, Allyson pulled open the door to find Shelley standing there in a dark brown trouser suit that had no collar to the jacket and was buttoned right up to her neck. It was smart, but definitely lacked the kind of style Shelley was known for. ‘Hi, are you OK?’ Allyson asked, stepping aside for her to come in.

  Shelley’s eyebrows arched. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ve come to show you what I’m wearing to the party tomorrow night. What do you think?’ She gave a twirl, then laid the cellophane-wrapped dress she was carrying across the back of a chair.

  Allyson couldn’t hide her astonishment. It was totally wrong for a party, and Shelley knew it, so what was going on?

  ‘Do you think trousers are OK?’ Shelley was saying. ‘I’ve brought a dress as well, but I’m not exactly one of the celebrities, and I thought maybe this kind of thing worked better for a producer.’

  ‘Shelley, anything works on you,’ Allyson reminded her. ‘And forget about being a producer, tomorrow night you’ll be a guest, so you can be as glamorous, or outrageous as you like.’

  Shelley smiled as she started to unbutton the jacket. ‘I’ll put the dress on so you can see that too.’

  Going to sit on the end of the bed, Allyson couldn’t help but admire Shelley’s exquisite, olive-skinned body, as she slipped out of the trouser suit and laid it carefully across the back of another chair. The fact that Shelley was now naked, apart from her shoes, didn’t surprise Allyson, for Shelley rarely wore underwear, but it did occur to her to wonder if there wasn’t some other, underlying reason for showing off her body this way – for example, to remind Allyson just how sensuous she was.

  ‘Fancy a glass of wine?’ Allyson offered, getting up to go to the minibar.

  ‘Sure,’ Shelley answered. She finished arranging the trouser suit, then turned to unwrap the dress. It was knee-length, beige, with a brown leather belt, a mock turtleneck and long batwing sleeves. ‘How about this?’ she said, fluffing out her hair after pulling it over her head.

  Allyson looked up from where she was uncorking the wine and almost dropped the bottle. Never in all the years she had known Shelley had she seen her in anything that even approached frumpiness, but this dress was so well on the way that Allyson couldn’t think of a single thing to say without being rude. ‘Shell, I don’t understand,’ she finally managed. ‘Why would you want to wear something like that when you’ve got such lovely slinky dresses that show off your gorgeous figure and …’

  ‘I don’t feel like wearing anything like that,’ Shelley interrupted. ‘Besides, you wouldn’t want me upstaging you, would you?’ Her smile was so dazzling that it was impossible to tell if she was teasing or not.

  ‘Anyway,’ Shelley went on, ‘I don’t want anyone looking at me and thinking I look sexy or available, because as I’m clearly completely incapable of holding onto a man, I don’t even want to tempt anyone to …’

  ‘Shelley, stop this!’ Allyson snapped. ‘You’re an exceptionally beautiful woman, and not even these ridiculous clothes can hide that.’

  Shelley turned to the mirror. ‘You’re right,’ she said decisively, looking herself up and down. ‘But as I have no intention of stealing your thunder tomorrow night, I thought if I wore something like this …’

  Allyson’s head was starting to spin. It was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid the fight, but she was still intent on trying. ‘Shelley, listen,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry you’re feeling … well, so upset at the moment …’

  ‘Upset?’ Shelley laughed. ‘What makes you think I’m upset?’

  Allyson took a breath. ‘Why don’t we drop this?’ she said. ‘You wear what you want to wear and I’ll keep my opinions to myself.’

  Shelley shrugged, and said no more as Allyson poured two large glasses of crisp, clear Frascati and passed one to her.

  ‘So,’ Shelley said, sipping her drink. ‘Are you going to let me take a peek at what you’ll be wearing? Oh, I forgot, you showed me this morning. The black dress with the panels?’

  Allyson nodded, and refused to mind that Shelley had just made her dress sound so unspeakably plain.

  ‘You’ll look good,’ Shelley assured her. ‘Now, if you’ve got a guest list handy we should sort out who’s going to sit with whom for dinner tonight.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Allyson responded, going to rummage in her files for a list that didn’t already have notes scrib
bled all over it. ‘Oh God, who’s that now?’ she groaned as someone knocked on the door.

  ‘Hi, can I come in?’ Candy, the photographer, said.

  ‘Well, uh,’ Allyson said, glancing back over her shoulder at Shelley.

  ‘Hi, Candy. Sure, come in,’ Shelley called. ‘You’re not interrupting anything. Except I’m about to take this dress off before I spill something on it. You don’t mind do you?’ And before Candy could answer she pulled the dress over her head and began arranging it back on the hanger.

  Allyson looked at Candy, who looked at Allyson.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Candy said, shrugging it off. ‘Don’t mind me. I just came to ask if I could get a shot of the sea view from your balcony. I’ve got a mountain view myself.’

  ‘Of course,’ Allyson said. Then, to Shelley, ‘There’s a spare robe in the bathroom. I’ll get it for you.’

  While she was gone the telephone rang, so she picked up the receiver next to the bidet and had a quick conversation with one of the publicists, which took only a couple of minutes, but when she returned to the bedroom she could hardly believe her eyes. Candy was still out on the balcony, but her back was to the view and her camera was trained across the room on Shelley, who was still wearing no clothes.

  ‘For God’s sake, Shelley, what are you doing?’ Allyson cried, as Candy started to click. ‘Candy stop!’ she commanded, going to stand between them.