14

LATE THE FOLLOWING morning Louisa and Sarah were strolling through the covered market in the old town of Antibes laden down with fruit, salads and flowers. Their progress was slow through the dense crowds of sunburned, straw-hatted tourists and frenetic French housewives and the walk back to the car promised to be a long, unbearably hot one as it was parked way up on the ramparts.

‘I honestly don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about,’ Sarah was saying, dodging her way round a splendid bouquet of leeks that was bobbing past her. ‘I mean, I know I’d believe him if I were you. And the fact that he’s holding back on making love to you just confirms to me that you really do mean something to him. Otherwise he’d just screw you and leave.’

‘That’s what I keep telling myself,’ Louisa said, shaking her head politely while smiling at the jolly round Frenchman who was offering her several bunches of freesias. ‘And when I was with him it seemed to make sense, but now, in the cold light of day I just don’t know what to think.’

‘You just don’t have enough confidence in yourself, that’s your trouble,’ Sarah said, stopping at a stall to pick up a fan-shaped object that unfolded into a hat and jamming it on her head. ‘What do you think?’ she said, tottering sideways as a busy French housewife jostled past her.

Louisa burst out laughing. ‘Not really you,’ she said.

‘He called you this morning, didn’t he?’ Sarah said as they walked on. ‘Why would he bother to do that if he wasn’t crazy about you?’

‘I don’t know, but tell me, do you think I’m mad going ahead with this?’

‘Probably,’ Sarah responded cheerfully. They parted for a moment to let a wheelbarrow of oranges through. ‘So he’s sending this Marianne woman to pick you up whenever he wants to see you?’ she continued as they came back together.

‘That’s what he said,’ Louisa answered.

‘Mmm.’ Sarah pondered for a moment. ‘Who is she exactly?’

‘She works for him as some kind of runaround as far as I can make out. Funny isn’t it,’ she went on, ‘that Morandi denied knowing Jake when Jake admitted that they did know each other.’

‘My guess is that he needs permission from Jake before he says anything,’ Sarah answered, taking an apple from the bag and biting into it. ‘Did Jake tell you anything else about him?’

‘Just that he produces low-budget films. He didn’t say anything about how they were linked to each other.’ She cast Sarah a sideways glance. ‘You really like him, don’t you?’

‘He’s OK,’ Sarah answered breezily, but Louisa wasn’t fooled. ‘He’s not Italian,’ Sarah added.

‘Well we know that,’ Louisa laughed.

‘No, I mean he admitted he’s not. He’s from Buckinghamshire. His real name’s Trevor.’

The laughter bubbled from Louisa’s lips before she could stop it.

‘I told him I prefer Morandi,’ Sarah grinned. ‘So we’re sticking with it.’

‘So did he tell you why he’s masquerading as an Italian?’

‘Nope,’ Sarah said, squinting as they stepped out into the sunlight and lifting her sunglasses from their chain. ‘I did ask, but he’s such a terrible liar I know I still haven’t got the truth yet.’ She sighed wearily. ‘As amateur sleuths we’re not doing too well, are we? I mean we haven’t found out anything of any consequence. Did you ask Jake about Consuela at all last night?’

‘No, I didn’t. Did you ask Morandi?’

‘Yep, but he was as closed about that as he was about Jake. I’m curious about Aphrodite though. He says they’ve been having an affair for the past few months and that he’s been trying to break it off for a while, but she won’t let him. I told him to fire her, but he says he can’t do it. Well, he’s such a sensitive soul I don’t suppose that really surprises me, but I got the impression that when he said “can’t” he really meant can’t. Do you think we could stop here and have a drink?’ she said, flopping down at an empty table outside a café.

‘So how do you feel about continuing to see him if he’s still involved with her?’ Louisa said, sitting down too and putting the shopping on the chair next to her.

Sarah shrugged. ‘Just so long as she doesn’t spray me with any more wine then I’m game,’ she said. ‘Do you think we stand any chance of getting anything out of Erik?’

‘No. And if we tried he’d probably tell Jake and I don’t much relish the thought of what Jake might say if he thought I was going behind his back trying to find things out. What are you going to have to drink?’

‘A large orange juice and soda, it might help my hangover.’

‘How much did you have to drink last night?’

‘Not as much as Morandi, but enough. It was quite pathetic actually. There we both were knocking it back like there was no tomorrow just to give ourselves Dutch courage for when we got home and when we got there all he did was shake my hand and get back in the car. I’ve never felt quite so resistible.’

‘Didn’t you invite him in?’

‘Yes, but he said he didn’t want to appear presumptuous on our first date. He has too much respect for me to have anyone thinking that he might be taking advantage of me.’

‘Would you have gone for it if he had come in?’ Louisa laughed.

‘I’m not sure. I mean I was all bravado on the doorstep, but I reckon once we were inside I’d have come over all frigid or something. However, alcohol loosened my tongue enough to tell him that I had a few problems in that area to which he replied that he didn’t in any way want to rush me and that we would, when I felt ready, try to work through the problems together. Isn’t that sweet?’

‘Delightful. You seem to have found yourself a real old-fashioned gentleman in Trev.’

‘Oh God, don’t call him that,’ Sarah laughed and groaned. ‘Isn’t it just the most dreadful name?’

‘It doesn’t have quite the same ring as Morandi, no,’ Louisa grinned, turning to the waiter to give him their order.

‘Now, tell me again what Jake said about my shots of the Valhalla,’ Sarah said excitedly. ‘Did he really want to buy them?’

‘That’s what he said.’

‘I’d happily give them to him, you know.’

‘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.’

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.

‘He told Louisa that you and he know each other,’ she said, ‘so you don’t have to deny it any more.’

He looked searchingly into her eyes as though unsure whether to believe her. In the end he obviously decided that he did. ‘Did he tell Louisa how we know each other?’ he asked.

Sarah shook her head.

To her surprise he let go of her hand, saying, ‘I’ll get you that drink.’

Sarah turned and resting her chin on her hands gazed out at the lustrous blue sea, the brilliant shards of sunlight that sparked from the yachts and the clear, velvety sky. It seemed somehow incongruous to be on the brink of discussing something whose darker side she was becoming more convinced of by the day when they were in surroundings that appeared so beautifully pure and benign. It was so easy, she was thinking, to lose a sense of reality here, and maybe in their own ways that was what they were all doing, she, Louisa and Danny. Without the constraints of normal, everyday life upon them it was as though they were drifting aimlessly through a fantasy world, untroubled by direction, unanchored by responsibility or consequence. They had found themselves a mystery and were going blindly into it as though it were as innocuous as a child’s game, as though they had cast themselves in a movie over which they neither had nor wanted any control because there would never be a price to pay since all movies had happy endings and even if they didn’t none of them was real.

‘So,’ she said still staring out at the horizon as Morandi put their drinks on the table and sat down, ‘are you going to tell me how you and Jake know each other?’

He followed the direction of her eyes, watching the shimmering surface of the sea, feeling the heat pounding down on him. ‘I want to,’ he answered, ‘but I just don’t know how much of it is safe for you to know.’

Sarah felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but whether it was of excitement or apprehension she couldn’t tell. ‘Then why don’t you tell me just some of it?’ she suggested.

He took a long time thinking it over before he said, ‘Jake fixed me up with my company down here. He did it because I owed him a favour, a very big favour and he needed someone he could trust to run … to organize certain ventures for him.’

‘So you’re not just soft porn?’ she said, turning to look at him.

‘No, but that’s as much as I can tell you. The rest is up to Jake.’

She nodded, thinking that he hadn’t really told her anything. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘But what about Aphrodite? Can’t you tell me where she fits into it all?’

‘She’s my assistant. Jake employed her, but she answers to me.’

‘But you can’t get rid of her because Jake won’t let you?’

‘If she wanted to go I don’t think Jake would stand in her way, but she doesn’t want to. I’m not sure how much she knows about what’s going on, we’ve never discussed it for the simple reason that we’re both afraid of revealing things the other might not know. But the truth is, I think she knows more than I do.’

Sarah was quiet for a moment, mulling over in her mind the little he had told her and deciding that she still wasn’t really any the wiser. ‘Jake told Louisa that it has nothing to do with drugs,’ she said. ‘Is that true?’

‘As far as I know it’s true, but Jake doesn’t tell me everything.’

‘What about the Mafia?’

He lowered his eyes and tilted his drink towards him. ‘That I don’t know,’ he answered soberly. ‘Consuela has a lot of contacts, knows a lot of people, so does Jake. But please, don’t ask me any more. I’ve sworn never to betray Jake’s confidence and I don’t want to lie to you.’

‘Can’t you just give me the basic ingredient?’ Sarah protested. ‘I mean, if it isn’t drugs and it isn’t the peddling of porn, then what is it?’

‘Probably just about everything else you can think of,’ he answered. ‘And that’s all I’m going to say. Can I sing you a song?’

Sarah blinked. ‘Are you serious?’ she said.

He was, for picking up the guitar he strummed a few chords then started to sing: ‘My eyes adored you, though I never laid a hand on you, my eyes adored you; Like a million miles away from me you couldn’t see how I adored you, so close, so close and yet so far …’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Sarah laughed incredulously when he’d finished. ‘That was wonderful and I just can’t work you out at all. One minute you seem so shy and the next you’re, I don’t know, you’re so …’

‘Brazen?’ he suggested.

‘Not brazen, no,’ she laughed, ‘more self-assured, at ease with yourself.’

‘I feel relaxed with you,’ he said, ‘but I’m trying to make a good impression too. Does that explain the schizophrenia?’

‘I suppose so.’ She picked up her drink and swirled it around the glass, clinking the ice-cubes. ‘I like it here,’ she said. ‘I like your apartment, I like your paintings and I like you.’

‘I’m glad,’ he smiled.

‘Tell me about your children. How old are they? What are their names? How often do you see them?’

‘I guess I’d better come clean here,’ he said, grinning awkwardly. ‘I do have seven children, but they’re not exactly all mine.’

‘How exactly aren’t they all yours?’ Sarah said, with a little wave of her hand.

‘Well, four of them are stepchildren. They came with my wives, but I’ve tried never to show any favouritism.’

‘So in actual fact you have three children?’

‘Two by my first wife, one by my second. I can show you photographs if you can bear to put up with a proud father,’ he said.

‘I think I can bear it.’

An hour later, having gone through no less than six family albums and listened to countless tales of childhood pranks, achievements, illnesses and brilliances, Sarah had finished her third drink and was sitting beside him, her arm resting against his, their legs brushing lightly beneath the table.

‘She’s very like you,’ she said, looking down at the picture of Morandi’s eldest daughter who was going to be fourteen the next day. ‘Will you call her tomorrow?’

‘Of course. She’s hoping I’m going to tell her she can come down for a while, but it’s not a good idea right now. The trouble is I’m not very good at saying no where my children are concerned. I’m afraid most of the discipline has fallen to their mothers.’

‘I think they’re very lucky to have a father like you. They must miss you.’

‘Probably not as much as I miss them.’

‘You know,’ she said, feeling a lump inexplicably rising in her throat, ‘I could quite envy you having such a big family. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Not that I ever had as many as seven in mind,’ she laughed. ‘But my husband, he didn’t want any. He just didn’t like children. Strange that we should ever have got together really, considering we wanted such different things from life.’

‘But you’re still young,’ he said softly. ‘There’s still plenty of time for a family, even a big one.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ she smiled, as his hand closed over hers. For a while she looked down at their hands then feeling him turning her towards him she looked up and watched him as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her so tenderly that it sent delicious swirls of warmth eddying through her heart. He pulled her closer and ran his fingers over the plump, soft flesh of her shoulders, smoothing a hand into her shiny hair, caressing her gently, assertively yet undemandingly.

When finally he let her go he took both her hands in his and gazed down at her, his velvety brown eyes smiling yet concerned.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, aware of how very aroused he was, of how aroused she was too. ‘I want to, but I’m afraid.’

‘It’s OK,’ he told her.

‘I wish I knew what I was afraid of,’ she said. ‘Maybe I think you’ll despise me after, I don’t know.’

‘Have you made love at all since your husband left?’ he asked.

‘Just once. In Consuela’s bathhouse. I take it you know about the bathhouse?’

He nodded.

‘But somehow that was different,’ she said. ‘It was anonymous. I didn’t know anything about him, nor him about me so I didn’t have to worry about what he thought of me. But I didn’t like myself too much after. Oh I don’t know!’ she said, suddenly impatient with herself. ‘I laugh and joke about sex all the time, I pretend to be a mad, bad, wild woman, but it’s all a front because when it comes right down to it I know I’m frigid.’

‘A woman who kisses the way you do isn’t frigid,’ he assured her, smiling. ‘You’re merely bruised and it’s not sex that will heal the bruises, it’s love.’

She laughed wryly. ‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘It will be when you come to trust me.’

‘That’s just it, I think I do trust you.’

‘Then let’s wait until you’re sure.’

She smiled fondly up into his eyes. ‘You’re a wonderful man, Trevor What-ever-your-name-is.’

‘Trubshaw,’ he said.

‘Oh God,’ she laughed, ‘how can someone as wonderful as you have such an awful name?’

He laughed too. ‘Actually it’s Deighton,’ he said, ‘but we can stay with Morandi if you like. And now, as loath as I am to let you go, didn’t you say you were meeting Erik at one?’

‘Oh heaven’s, yes,’ she cried, looking at her watch. ‘Oh my God, it’s twenty to already. Would you call him for me and tell him I’m on my way?’

‘Of course,’ he said standing up with her. ‘I’ll ring you, OK? And good luck this afternoon, I’ll look forward to seeing the results.’

‘Call me soon?’ she said turning back from the door.

‘Very soon,’ he promised.

A few minutes later Sarah was on the point of getting into her car which was parked on the edge of the harbour when Aphrodite suddenly appeared from out of the strolling crowds.

Oh God, Sarah groaned inwardly, as a mental picture of herself flying into the oily water passed through her mind.

‘I know where you’ve been,’ Aphrodite hissed, her jet black eyes burning with fury, ‘but you keep away from him, do you hear me?’

‘Now hang on a minute,’ Sarah said, making an attempt to be reasonable.

‘Keep away from him! I don’t know what he’s told you, but I’m telling you he’s a liar, a cheat and a blackmailer and if you don’t back off right now I’m warning you both, I’ll expose him for what he is,’ and spinning on her heel she stormed off in the direction of Morandi’s apartment block.

Because of the traffic it took Sarah over half an hour to reach Monaco. She drove straight to the Parking des Pecheurs, which Erik had told her to head for, then clutching her map and camera case got into the lift and glided sedately up through the rock to the outer ramparts of the exclusive, sunbaked town.

As she wound her way through the meandering tourists along the twisting pathways fringed by magnolias, eucalyptus and oleanders she was still thinking about what Aphrodite had said. It had shaken her, there was no doubt about that, but the drive had calmed her a little and she was able to approach it more rationally now. She had, she knew, to put her personal feelings to one side as she considered Aphrodite’s accusations against Morandi. But it was hard, very hard when she had truly believed in those two hours they had spent together that he was everything he appeared to be, father, brother, friend and soon-to-be-lover. But had she seen only what she wanted to see? It was true she’d asked him about Jake, but she knew she hadn’t pushed it any harder because she hadn’t wanted anything to spoil the beauty of what was developing between them.

‘He’s a liar, a cheat and a blackmailer.’ Aphrodite’s words resounded horribly, repeatedly through her ears and as much as she hated to admit it she knew she had to face the fact that if he really was the father of seven children then maybe it was blackmail that was helping not only to support them, but to provide him with the means to take her to the kind of restaurant he’d taken her to the other night and to parties like the one at the Colombe d’Or. But who was he blackmailing?

By now she had passed the Musée Océanographique and was in the midst of the fairytale town with its narrow, polished brick roads and flat-fronted pink and lemon buildings. Gifts and postcards, T-shirts and memorabilia spilled out of tiny shop fronts, back-packing students with slender, tanned legs and greasy hair studied their maps, squinted up at the sun and flopped exhaustedly into the cafés. Prim old ladies with tightly curled hair and chic, young sundresses tottered by, poodles tucked protectively under their arms and jewels sparkling lavishly under their chins. She’d taken a wrong turn, she knew that, but imagined if she pressed on ahead she would find another way round to Erik’s apartment that overlooked the Port de Fontvieille.

She wasn’t too sure now that she was looking forward to the afternoon. Maybe it would be better if she and Louisa gave up on this crazy idea of solving whatever mystery they’d stumbled upon. They were out of their depth, she could sense that as fiercely as she could sense the biting heat of the sun. But deep down inside she knew she was resisting letting go. She didn’t want this all to be an illusion, to find herself the victim of lies and chicanery and feel a fool for believing in someone who, on the surface at least, seemed like the answer to her prayers.

She stopped a moment to admire the palace, sitting like a huge, creamy cake beneath the jutting, barren mountain top that scaled the flawless blue heavens behind it. Then glancing at her map again she walked quickly across the Place du Palais, down the steps to the Promenade Sainte Barbe and onto the walkway that skirted the clifftops above the Port de Fontvieille.

When she reached the pale orange apartment block with its black wrought iron balconies and sienna and white striped awnings she looked up at it warily. She wondered if Danny was inside – they hadn’t seen her for almost a week and though she’d called frequently she’d never said where she was. But even if Danny was there Sarah still wasn’t sure she wanted to go in. Then someone came out, the door slammed behind him and Sarah pushed Erik’s bell.

She rang and rang, but when, five minutes later there was still no reply, she could only conclude that he’d got fed up waiting. She could always ring Morandi to see if he’d called, maybe Erik had left a message for her there, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to Morandi right now.

Wandering back onto the path she put her heavy camera case between her legs and leaned her elbows on the wall, gazing thoughtfully down at the turquoise-blue waters of the harbour where white-sailed yachts and gleaming cruisers were gliding smoothly past each other on their way out to or back from the sea.

For the moment no one else was around and as the peace stole over her she closed her eyes and prayed for guidance. Or maybe it was for the courage to admit that she was so desperate to find someone to love, someone to make her feel normal and desirable again, that she was prepared to ignore what was staring her in the face and go blindly, blithely into something that was only going to end up making her even more insecure and screwed up than she already was.

Suddenly she started to smile, for somewhere in the distance, almost as though in answer to her confusion, she could hear a church organ. She turned to look along the path, then checking her map she saw that she was only fifty yards or so from the cathedral.

Picking up her case she began walking towards it and the closer she got it seemed the more fervent and demanding the organ became. Its strident, chords surged out of the silver-grey structure, filling the humid air with sound. Sarah watched in fascination as though the frenzied notes might suddenly explode through the walls and the whole cathedral collapse, slowly, melodically, before her very eyes.

When the music stopped leaving only a sluggish resonance petering into the silence, she continued to stand there, staring. A gaily painted wooden train passed in front of her and she heard the English tour guide inform his passengers that inside this neo-Romanesque cathedral, built in the late nineteen hundreds, was to be found the tomb of Her Royal Highness the Princess Grace.

Sarah watched as the sweltering tour party disembarked and moved languidly towards the cool darkened interior of the now silent cathedral. She toyed with the idea of joining them, took a step to follow, then without really knowing why, turned abruptly away and started back to the car.