Sally Wentworth - Set the Stars on Fire

by Sally Wentworth

  For a moment his face tightened and then he turned abruptly and walked away.

  Dean whistled up one of the tads that always hung around near the set and the grinning driver took them out of the town at a fast pace, the rather tinny vehicle rattling along so that Lori was thrown against Dean as they swayed round the bends. He laughed as she apologised, and put an arm round her to steady her.

  'These cabs are really something, aren't they? Not that I mind at the moment,' he added with a grin as he held her closer when they made a sharp right turn and started up a steep hill outside the town.

  Lori laughed too, but moved away as soon as the car straightened up, holding on to the door to keep her self from falling against him again. If Dean noticed, he didn't say anything, and soon the taxi drew up at a bare strip of ground with just one or two trees casting a meagre shade from the sun.

  Dean frowningly handed over what looked to be a lot of drachmas for such a short ride and Lori immediately said, 'Oh, here, let me pay my share,' and dived in her bag for her purse.

  But he wouldn't let her, saying, 'No way. It just bugs me that they all overcharge everyone in the film crew.

  They think we're all millionaires.' He looked around. 'Now, where are these ancient ruins Lewis thinks we ought to see?'

  They walked further on and then Lori stopped with a gasp of delight; they were very high up at the top of a steep hill and below them the town of Rhodes was set out like a three-dimensional street map. Lori paid scant attention to the more modern part of the city, turning to study the old town where the Grand Master's Palace stood out clearly, surrounded by the domes and minarets of the later mosques. From this vantage point she could also see where the harbour walls at Mandraki stretched out like long piers into the sea, one of them crowned with three mediaeval windmills, each with their eight thin white sails turning slowly in the sea breeze, all that were left now of the many mills that had stood near the sea when the Knights had held the island. Because all her thoughts now were coloured by The Siege, Lori wondered how Lewis would transform the harbour when the time came to film the arrival of the Turkish ships. But it was difficult to think of the director by his Christian name. Her feelings towards him were still very mixed; in his professional capacity she greatly respected him and wanted to please him, but as a man…

  Emotion governed her senses even when she thought about him, because although he wasn't rude to her any more, Lori could sense intuitively that he still despised her, and her resentment of his attitude was only thinly buried beneath a fragile veneer for the sake of the film. It was as if they had' both made a tacit agreement that the film came first, that he would tolerate her because of it, and she would hold her temper in check for the same reason. She could only hope that things would go on as they were, as a, gradually improving working relationship, for she hated to think of the explosion that would erupt if she ever did tell him what she thought of him.

  'A drachma for your thoughts,' Dean's voice interrupted her, and she turned rather guiltily to look at him.

  `I was thinking about the film,' she admitted. `Then stop it. We came up here to absorb some culture, remember? The wonders of ancient Greece. Let's go find them.'.

  He took her hand and ran with her across the grass,

  Lori laughingly telling him to slow down, but he wouldn't stop until they came to the ruins of the Acropolis where goats cropped-the sparse grass among the scattered stones. Lori's first reaction was of disappointment; all that was left of what had once been a huge temple to Apollo was just a couple of restored, pillars which gave little indication of the former grandeur of the building.

  Dean saw her disappointed look and said, 'The one at Lindos is supposed to be much better. Have you seen it yet?'

  Lori shook her head. 'No, I haven't seen any of the island except Rhodes.'

  'Well, we're due to do some shooting there eventually, so we'll see it then. But-hey, why don't we hire a car on our next day off and go there by ourselves, ahead of the crew?'

  Lori gave him a rather uncertain smile. 'Well, I'd like to, of course, Dean, but I…'

  'But you've got someone else you'd rather go with.' He gave a slight shrug. 'Sure, I understand.' He went to turn away, but Lori impulsively put a hand on his arm. She liked Dean and she didn't want him to have a bad opinion of her. 'No, it isn't that. It's just that-well, Lewis warned me to keep away from all the men in the crew. He-he didn't want me to get too friendly with anyone, if you see what I mean?' Dean's handsome face broke into a broad grin. 'Oh, sure, I know what you mean.'

  Lori frowned crossly. 'No, you don't. The rumours about the way I got this job and-and the other things that were said about me-well, they just weren't true. But Lewis wouldn't believe me when I denied them and told me not to get involved with anyone.' The memory of that interview still filled her voice with bitterness. 'So perhaps it would be better if we didn't go out together, even if it is only sightseeing.'

  Dean shrugged and said, 'Okay, if that's the way you want it, but if that's the case why did fie suggest we come up here together?'

  Lori frowned and shook her head. 'I've no idea.' 'I have.' Dean looked at her, his eyes wide and innocent, a saintly expression on his face. 'It's because he knew that my reputation is above reproach, that, like the knights of old, I've taken a vow of chastity, that no woman would ever… Hey!' He let out a yell as Lori gave him an indignant shove that made him start to slither down the grassy bank, his arms windmilling as he strove to keep his balance.

  He recovered quickly and made a grab for her, but Lori laughingly ran away and he didn't catch up with her until she stopped at the entrance to the old stadium and gazed about her in awe.

  'Now this really is impressive,' she said as she looked down the long, long, length of the oval stadium, flanked by rows of stone seats where the audience had sat. 'What sort of events did they have here? Chariot racing?' I think that was the Romans. No, they had athletic meetings, like the early Olympic Games. Some really great athletes were supposed to have come from Rhodes and must have taken part here.'

  'How do you know so much about it?' Lori demanded.

  Dean grinned. 'I'm an American; I devour guide books for breakfast.'

  Lori laughed and walked further into the stadium. 'It must have held hundreds of people. Can't you just imagine them cheering, the men in their skirted tunics, the women in their…'

  'Uh-uh.' Dean shook his head. `No women. They weren't allowed in on pain of death.'

  'And why not?' Lori demanded indignantly, her female equality antennae rising. I suppose they thought the women would spoil their fun or something?'

  Dean grinned. `No, they were just respecting their modesty. You see, all the men taking part were always completely naked!' And he burst out laughing at her look of shocked surprise.

  They spent another hour at the site, exploring the stadium and then the restored theatre where they had fun taking it in turns to stand at the base and declaim all the passages of the ancient Greek plays they could remember, and pulling each other's performances to pieces unmercifully in the style of modern theatre critics.

  Lori enjoyed the afternoon immensely and the few hours away from the film helped her to relax and feel less strained. And now that Dean was openly friendly towards her, so the crew's attitude subtly changed and they too began to treat her as one of themselves, so that when Dean asked her to go out with him and some of the others one evening, she had little hesitation this time in accepting. About ten of them, seven men and three women, piled into two taxis and escorted by Janos

  Karousos, the film company's local contact who was the go between with the Greeks, went to a night-club called the Copacabana which was patronised entirely by the native Rhodians and tourists were only allowed in as guests when accompanied by a Greek.

  The night-club was quite unlike anything Lori had expected; it was a big warehouse-like building with plain wooden tables and benches, the drinks just a bottle of whisky, a bottle of water and half a, dozen bo
ttles of Coke per table, take it or leave it. But if the building was primitive, the entertainment was great.

  Act followed act without a break, singers, dancers, groups of musicians, all came and went on the brightly lit stage and the audience showed their appreciation not by clapping but by throwing carnations to the women and to Lori's astonishment throwing piles of plain white china plates to the men, so many that after every popular act boys with wide brooms had to come and sweep away the debris of broken pottery.

  Lori sat next to Dean during the course of the evening and he kept trying to refill her glass with whisky, despite her protests. She didn't like whisky very much and kept topping up her glass with Coke to drown the taste, but Dean had no such inhibitions and drank his almost neat. As the night progressed he kept buying more and more piles of plates to throw and insisted that the Greek, Janos, introduce him to many of the locals, going over to. the different tables to shake handy and talk and laugh loudly through his interpreter. The

  Greeks seemed to accept this intrusion good-naturedly enough, but later, when Dean was again back at their own table, he started to whistle and shout for more to an act he particularly liked and several Greeks at nearby tables looked round in open disapproval. One of the other men at their table stood up. `Time to take the Golden Boy home. Let's go.'

  Dean started to protest vociferously, but they pulled him to his feet and hurried him outside, the rest following.

  Lori found herself wedged in a taxi next to one of the women and asked embarrassedly, `Is Dean always like this?'

  The woman gave a shrug. 'He just gets over-friendly when he's had a few drinks, that's all. He likes to think of himself as everybody's best buddy. It doesn't matter so long as we're in a crowd, he always gets taken back to the hotel before he goes too far.'

  Lori fully expected Dean to be at least a bit embarrassed at his behaviour, but he turned up at the set the next morning his usual rather brash and friendly self, not in the least bit abashed-and he didn't even have a hangover!

  'Hey, we had a great time last night, didn't we?' he exclaimed as he came up to her and put an arm casually across her shoulders. 'Let's do it again. How about tonight?'

  Lori was acutely conscious of the whole crew watching them with avid interest and hastily fobbed him off. 'I have an early call tomorrow. Maybe some other time.'

  His style of living was too fast for her, she couldn't take that pace every night when she was working, but she did go out with him again two or three times, but always with other people from the film company, not only because there was safety in numbers as far as her reputation was concerned, but also because she was quite sure that she wouldn't be able to handle Dean alone.

  So she mostly kept to the hotel in the evenings, forming the habit of learning her lines for the next day's shooting before the night-club opened and then going down to the beach for a late night swim to tire herself physically before going to bed. One Saturday night she had left her swim rather later than usual because she had been writing to 'her mother, and it was almost one in the morning before she came out of the water and put on her full-length towelling beach robe, knotting the belt loosely at the front. The hotel was still ablaze with light as coaches pulled up at the entrance and deposited an influx of tourists who had spent the night at a `typical' Greek evening, especially arranged for them at one of the inland villages twice a week and where they all got very merry on the Local wine: There also seemed to be a large crowd of local youths hanging around the entrance, so Lori waited until the road was clear and then ran across to go back to the hotel through the gardens.

  It was a perfect Mediterranean night; the moon a newly minted silver dollar in the velvet blackness of the sky, the air filled with the scent of the jasmine trees that lined the walk. Lori paused for a moment to let her senses drink it in, but then she froze, nerves quivering as she heard a twig snap and leaves rustle as someone pushed aside the bushes on her left and came towards her.

  She made a compulsive movement to start to run, but then stopped as a voice said in an urgent undertone, `Lori ! Lori, wait, please!'

  She looked towards the bushes uncertainly, still poised on the edge of flight.- `Who is its' she said sharply.

  'Quiet!' The voice came as a commanding whisper out of the darkness. `It's me-Dean.'

  'Dean? But why on earth…' She crossed the path and went towards him, pushing the screening bushes aside. He was leaning back against the trunk of a palm tree and his face looked pale, sort of washed out, but it could have been a trick of the moonlight. He was slumped against the tree, leaning his whole weight on it, and looked as if his legs might give way at any moment. Her first thought was that he had been drinking again and she looked at him in some annoyance. 'What happened this time? Why didn't the others bring you home? Honestly, Dean, you're not safe to be let out alone!'

  He gave her a somewhat ghastly grin. 'I guess you're right. We got separated-and then-I got into a fight over some girl.'

  He seemed to find it difficult to speak and Lori thought that he must be really drunk; she hadn't seen him as bad as this before and just hoped that he wasn't going to pass out on her.

  He had paused for a moment, his eyes closed, his hand pressed against his side as if he had a stitch. Then he opened his eyes and looked at her. 'I'm sorry, Lori, but you're going to have to help me. I'm bleeding like a pig!' And he slid down the tree trunk and sat on the ground with a thud.

  Lori stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, hardly taking in what he had said until she saw the dark stain spreading across his shirt. Then she was on her knees beside him, instinct making her use her towel as a pad to put against his side and try to stop the bleeding.

  'Don't worry, you'll be okay now. Just stay here and I'll run to the hotel for help. They'll…'

  'No!' Dean's urgent exclamation broke in on her hasty reassurances. 'The people I was in the fight with

  -they're waiting at the hotel-I saw them-that's why -that's why I waited-till someone I knew came along.' He lay back against the tree, exhausted by his effort to talk.

  Lori gazed at him in consternation. 'But what are we going to do? Dean?' But the effort had been too much for him and he had fainted. `Oh, no I ' She bit her lip, wondering what on earth she was going to do, remembering the crowd of youths she had seen at the hotel entrance. Well, one thing was for sure, she had to have help and quickly, there was no knowing how badly

  Dean was hurt or how much blood he had lost already.

  She wedged her towel against his side, using the weight of his arm to hold it in place, then pulled some branches across to make sure that he wouldn't be seen by anyone walking home through the gardens. Then she began to run towards the hotel, fear for Den's life speeding her on.

  She had hoped that the garden entrance to the hotel would be clear, but two dark-haired young Greeks were leaning against a wall smoking. For a moment she hesitated, then turned quickly and ran round to the front entrance. Right now she needed the help of some one with enough authority with the hotel management to get rid of the crowd of Greeks-and she knew only one person who carried that much weight. Without hesitation she took an elevator up to the first Boor where she knew that Lewis Brent had a suite of rooms. But as she stepped out of the elevator she was dismayed to see several more youths hanging around in the corridor and she remembered that Dean was also living on this floor; the men must be waiting in case Dean somehow man aged to get into the hotel and make for his roam. Lori shuddered; Dean had really opened up a hornets' nest, and she wondered just what had happened between him and the girl-presumably a Greek girl, to have roused this much bad feeding.

  She tried to walk down the corridor to the director's sure as naturally as she could, not too fast so that they would suspect something. One started to come towards her and she had to dig her nails into her palms to stop herself from turning and running back to the safety of the elevator. Somehow she forced herself to keep going to ignore the youth.

  He came closer an
d smiled- at her. 'Hallo, beautiful miss. You going to bed?' He put a hand on her arm. His skin was rough and his nails were dirty. 'You want I should come with you? We Greeks know how to treat a woman in bed.' He came closer and tried to put his other hand on her breast. His breath reeked of alcohol. Lori drew away in repulsion but inwardly sighed with relief; it was only a pick-up. She brushed him off and hurried down the corridor, the youth turning to watch her. At Lewis's door she knocked loudly, willing him to hurry. The Greek was still watching her as she waited impatiently for Lewis to answer. Then fear shot through her at the thought that he might be out. He could still be at the set, in the production office, anywhere! She tried to think whether there was any night shooting today, but her brain was numb with fear and she couldn't remember. The youth grinned- leeringly at her again and started to walk towards her. Lori lifted both fists and beat against the door, yelling 'Lewis!' on a rising note of panic.

  'What the hell?' The door was suddenly yanked open and Lori almost fell inside, gasping with relief. She glanced behind her, but the Greek was already hurrying back down the corridor.

  'Oh, thank God! I was afraid you weren't here. I didn't know what to do.'

  'Lori! What on earth's the matter?'

  He was dressed in only a brown terry bath-robe, his hair still damp from the shower.

  'It's Dean. Oh, Lewis, you've got to do something!

  He's hurt, I don't know how badly, and there are men all round the hotel. Oh, please, you've got to help me!'

  Her voice rose incoherently and she put up her hands to grip the lapels of his bath-robe, trying to pull him towards the door.

  `Wait a minute. You say Dean's hurt? Where is he' What happened?' His hands came up to cover hers, warm and strong, forcing her to keep still.

  `He's in the gardens. There's blood all over his shirt.

  I don't know how bad he is-he could be dying. Oh, please, Lewis, hurry! He's unconscious.'