‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Maybe I do.’
‘So what was the film actor doing in a play?’ Dante asked.
‘He felt that people didn’t take him seriously.’
‘Heaven help us! One of them. They make a career out of being eye candy but it’s not enough. They want to be respected.’
‘You’ve got him to a T,’ Ferne chuckled. ‘Are you sure you don’t know him?’
‘No, but I’ve met plenty like him. Some of the houses I sell belong to that kind of person—”full of themselves”, I believe is the English expression.’
‘That’s it. Someone persuaded him that if he did a bit of Shakespeare everyone would be impressed, so he agreed to star in Antony and Cleopatra.’
‘Playing Antony, the great lover?’
‘Yes. But I think part of the attraction was the fact that Antony was an ancient Roman, so he had to wear little, short tunics that showed off his bare legs. He’s got very good legs. He even made the costume department take the tunics up a couple of inches to show off his thighs.’
Dante choked with laughter.
‘It was very much an edited version of the play because he couldn’t remember all the long speeches,’ Ferne recalled. ‘Mind you, he made them shorten Cleopatra’s speeches even more.’
‘In case she took too much of the spotlight?’ Dante hazarded a guess.
‘Right. He wasn’t going to have that. Not that it really mattered, because everyone was looking at his thighs.’
‘I don’t think you’re exactly heartbroken,’ Dante commanded, watching her intently.
‘Certainly not,’ she said quickly. ‘It was ridiculous, really. Just showbusiness. Or life.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s all a performance of one kind or another. We each live by pretending something’s true when we really know it isn’t, or not true when we know it is.’
A strange look came into his eyes, as though her words carried a particular resonance. He seemed about to say something, but then backed off. She had the impression that a corner of the curtain to his mind had been raised, then dropped hastily.
So there was more to him than the charming clown, she thought. He presented that aspect to the world, but behind it was another man who hid himself away and kept everyone else out. Intrigued, she wondered how easy it would be to reach behind his defences.
The next moment he gave her the answer.
Seeing her watching him, he closed his eyes, shutting her out completely.
CHAPTER TWO
SUDDENLY he opened his eyes again, revealing that the tension had gone. The dark moment might never have been. His next words were spoken lightly.
‘You’re getting very philosophical.’
‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘Were you talking about yourself when you said we each live by refusing to admit the truth?’
‘Well, I suppose I really knew that another woman had her eye on him, and I ought to have realised that he’d give in to flattery, no matter what he’d said to me hours before. But it was still a bit of a shock when I went to meet him at the theatre after the performance and found them together.’
‘What were they doing—or needn’t I ask?’
‘You needn’t ask. They were right there on the stage, stretched out on Cleopatra’s tomb, totally oblivious to anyone and anything. She was saying, “Oh, you really are Antony—a great hero!”‘
‘And I suppose they were—’ Dante paused delicately ‘—in a state of undress?’
‘Well, he still had his little tunic on. Mind you, that was almost the same thing.’
‘So what did you do?’ he asked, fascinated. ‘You didn’t creep away in tears. Not you. You went and thumped him.’
‘Neither.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘I hardly dare tell you what I did.’
‘Have we got to the bit where you’re unprincipled and vulgar?’ he asked hopefully.
‘We have.’
‘Don’t keep me in suspense. Tell me.’
‘Well, I take my camera everywhere…’
Dante’s crack of laughter seemed to hit the ceiling and echo around the carriage, waking the barman from his doze.
‘You didn’t?’
‘I did. They were wonderful pictures. I took as many as I could from as many different angles as possible.’
‘And he didn’t see you?’
‘He had his back to me,’ Ferne explained. ‘Facing downwards.’
‘Oh yes, naturally. But what about her?’
‘She was facing up and she saw me, of course. She loved it. Then I stormed off in a temper, went straight to the offices of a newspaper that specialised in that sort of thing and sold the lot.’
Awed, he stared at her. ‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that.’
His respect grew in leaps and bounds; a woman who reacted to her lover’s betrayal not with tears and reproaches but with well-aimed revenge was a woman after his own heart.
What couldn’t she do if she set her mind to it?
Would any man of sense want to get on her wrong side?
But her right side—that was a different matter!
‘What happened?’ he demanded, still fascinated.
‘There were ructions, but not for long. The seats had been selling reasonably well, but after that it was standing-room only. She gave an interview about how irresistible he was, and he got offered a big, new film-part. So then he walked out on the show, which annoyed Josh, the director, until the understudy took over and got rave reviews. He was Josh’s boyfriend, so everyone was happy.’
‘Everyone except you. What did you get out of it?’
‘The paper paid me a fortune. By that time I’d calmed down a bit and was wondering if I’d gone too far, but then the cheque arrived, and, well…’
‘You’ve got to be realistic,’ he suggested.
‘Exactly. Mick—that’s my agent—said some people wait a lifetime for a stroke of luck like mine. I’ve always wanted to see Italy, so I planned this trip. I had to wait a couple of months because suddenly I was much in demand. I’m not sure why.’
‘Word had spread about your unusual skills,’ he mused.
‘Yes, that must be it. Anyway, I made a gap in my schedule, because I was determined to come here, chucked everything into a suitcase, jumped on the next train to Paris and from there I got the train to Milan.
‘I spent a few days looking over the town, then suddenly decided to take off for Naples. It was late in the evening by then and a sensible person would have waited until morning. So I didn’t.’
Dante nodded in sympathy. ‘The joy of doing things on the spur of the moment! There’s nothing like it.’
‘I’ve always been an organised person, perhaps too organised. It felt wonderful to go a bit mad.’ She gave a brief, self-mocking laugh. ‘But I’m not very good at it, and I really messed up, didn’t I?’
‘Never