Scott took Gianni for a beer in a piano bar near the Via Veneto. They both ordered Peronis and stood looking round the buzzing room. Every table was crowded with fashionably dressed men and women, most of them foreigners and, according to Gianni, lots of them from the Cleopatra film set. In the corner, a pianist was playing but Scott could barely hear a note over the chatter in the room. The doors to the terrace were closed because it was a cold, rainy night, but he could see the lights of the city blurred by raindrops on the glass.
‘Does Elizabeth Taylor ever come here?’ Scott asked, and Gianni shook his head.
‘It’s too public. She will only go to private parties, or to restaurants that will give her a quiet table away from the public view. And you can be sure she won’t go anywhere with Mr Burton because every photojournalist in Rome is on their tail. The first picture of them together will be worth millions. I’ll do my best, boss,’ he grinned, ‘but don’t hold your breath.’
‘Shame.’
He asked Gianni about his sources on the set and whether any of them might be able to get photographs but was told that it was impossible now. Security had been tightened and everyone knew they would be sacked if they were caught with a camera at Cinecittà.
Scott kept an eye on the people from the film set. One group of girls appeared to be drinking heavily, as carafe after carafe of wine was ordered and slurped back. If he could get talking to them perhaps he could pump them for information, but approaching the table as a whole wouldn’t work. He’d have to try and catch one on her own. A blonde girl seemed particularly the worse for wear. She was resting her head on her hands with half-closed eyes when her elbow slipped off the table, making her jerk awake. Scott kept an eye on her and managed to intercept her on the way back from the ladies’ room.
‘Excuse me,’ he grinned. ‘I was just saying to my friend here how attractive you are and he bet that you wouldn’t let me buy you a drink. Will you help me win the bet?’
She hesitated, and Scott cursed his broken nose. He’d never had trouble picking up girls before but his face looked less trustworthy now.
‘You want to buy me a drink?’ she slurred, slow on the uptake.
‘Sure! What can I get you?’
‘A Prosecco would be lovely.’
Scott immediately called the bartender and ordered the drink. ‘Will you stay and talk to me or do you need to get back to your friends?’
‘I could stay for a little bit,’ she said. ‘They’re not really friends. I just go out with them.’
‘You all work on Cleopatra, don’t you? That must be fun.’
She was pretty but she could barely stand up. She kept wobbling in her shoes, which had high heels like pins, and he worried that her skinny ankles would snap. Her blue eyes were unfocused and her speech thick and slow.
‘It’s OK, I suppose.’
‘It must be pretty glamorous seeing the stars up close. Which ones do you like the best?’
Helen considered this. ‘I used to like Elizabeth Taylor, because she’s kind. She gave me her autograph on the very first day we were filming. Once I scratched her eyelid when I was sticking on one of the spangle things in her makeup and she was so nice about it. She told everyone it was her own fault for moving.’
‘That was nice. It’s not the impression you get from the newspapers, is it?’
‘No, they’re all mean about her.’ The drink arrived and the girl picked it up greedily and took a slurp then the glass slipped through her fingers. It splashed the front of her dress as it fell then shattered into pieces on the wooden floor.
‘Oops!’ She looked down in dismay.
The barman passed them a pile of napkins and Scott began to mop at her front, while someone appeared with a dustpan and brush to sweep up the fragments.
‘You seem tired, sweetheart,’ he said tactfully. ‘Why don’t you let me take you home so you can get out of your wet dress?’
The girl looked wistfully at the glass. She obviously wanted another drink but Scott realised he’d get nothing useful out of her if she drank any more.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll just tell my friends.’
Gianni raised his glass to clink against Scott’s, impressed at his successful technique. ‘See you tomorrow, boss. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
Outside the hotel, Scott decided to hail a taxi. Although the rain had stopped he was worried the girl might fall off if he took her on his Vespa and, besides, sitting in the back of a cab would give them more chance to talk. She gave an address close by and as soon as they drove off, Scott began to pump her with questions.
‘What do you think of Richard Burton? You said Elizabeth Taylor was nice. Is he nice too?’
‘He doesn’t talk to me,’ she slurred. ‘No one talks to me except Diana.’
‘Have you seen him with Elizabeth Taylor? Or do they keep their affair a secret?’
‘It’s disgusting,’ she said. ‘I think it’s wrong. Too many people, all getting hurt.’
Her head rolled onto Scott’s shoulder. He sighed. She wasn’t going to be much use to him tonight. He tried another tack. ‘Could I take you for dinner some time?’ he asked. ‘Maybe later in the week? You’re very pretty.’
‘You don’t even know my name,’ she said. ‘It’s Helen.’
‘I’m Scott. So how about it, Helen? Can I buy you dinner?’
The taxi pulled up in front of the address she had given and he went round to open the door and help her out but motioned for the driver to wait.
‘How about I pick you up on Friday at seven?’
‘Do you mean like a date?’ Helen asked, wide-eyed.
‘Sure.’ Scott grimaced. Was this going to be another situation that would become difficult to extricate himself from?
‘But what will I do tonight?’ she asked, frowning.
‘You should probably go to bed and get some rest. It’s past eleven.’
‘No, it’s not that.’ She whispered conspiratorially: ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got anything, have you?’
‘What kind of thing?’ She was rubbing her nose as if it were itchy, then she began to scratch her bare arm.
‘Oh … you know. To get high.’
He was shocked because she looked so young, but appearances could be deceptive. ‘Sorry, I don’t.’
She sighed and turned into the courtyard of her pensione.
‘See you Friday,’ he called after her but wasn’t sure if she’d heard because she didn’t turn round.