Diana changed quickly, removed her wig and called for a studio driver to take her back to her pensione. She was still wearing her heavy pancake makeup and eyeliner and the driver tried to joke with her about it but she was lost in her own thoughts.
I’m such a fool. Why didn’t I guess? How could he?
It didn’t occur to her to question the woman’s story. Her distress had been genuine and that photograph was proof. She must have grabbed the opportunity to sneak onto the set when so many strangers were there for the procession scene. It was the only way she could catch her husband red-handed with his mistress – her! How could she have been so wrong about Ernesto? Was she such a bad judge of character? More to the point, what was she going to say when he arrived at her pensione later?
She had a bath to wash off the grime of the day and lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling as the fierce heat of the sun subsided. Her cheeks and arms were tight with sunburn. A faint breeze blew her curtain inwards. She decided she couldn’t face a long, drawn-out argument with Ernesto. She would simply tell him it was over and ask him to pack his things and leave. She didn’t want to hear dozens of excuses. What was it errant men always said in the movies? ‘My wife doesn’t understand me.’ Well, maybe she didn’t, but he’d had children with her and that changed everything as far as Diana was concerned.
Ernesto didn’t attempt to deny that he was married and a father, but he had a million excuses for his behaviour. ‘I couldn’t help falling in love with you, Diana. During that trip to Ischia, I knew you were the person I should spend my life with. I got married too young and we have nothing in common. My wife is uneducated, simple, but you – you are a genius.’
‘You lied to me, and you’ve gone on lying and lying.’
Ernesto looked pained. ‘I had no choice. I hated lying to you but if I’d told you I was married you wouldn’t have been with me. I wanted you to love me. I need you, cara mia.’
Diana clutched her head in her hands, wanting to scream. ‘You could never have married me. Divorce isn’t legal in Italy, yet you tried to make me divorce my husband. Why would you do that?’
‘I didn’t want to share you. The thought that this man slept in our bed makes me crazy. Diana, we can still be together. I will leave my wife and we will get an apartment. I want to wake up beside you every morning for the rest of my life.’ He reached out to touch her cheek and she flinched.
‘Absolutely not. I can’t believe you’ve turned out to be such a louse. I want you to collect your things and get out, and I don’t want you anywhere near me from now on.’
‘Don’t decide so quickly. Take a few days to think it over. Please don’t break my heart.’
He sounded very upset, but she noticed there was no remorse for what he had done. For Diana it was a black and white decision. ‘There’s nothing to think about, Ernesto. Go back to your wife and children. Tell her I’m sorry. And stay away from me.’
He began to fold his shirts and trousers and Diana watched, willing him to hurry. It was unbelievable that just a few hours earlier they had been kissing on the film set, delighted in each other’s company, perfectly happy in the moment. How naïve she had been.
‘Can I have one last kiss?’ Ernesto asked, his brown eyes sad, and her traitorous body yearned to press against his and feel his lips one last time, but she was too angry.
‘Just get out!’ she ordered, and with a reproachful backwards glance, he did.
Diana poured herself a glass of water then sat on her balcony watching as the light faded and the evening traffic hit the streets. She felt old, cynical and exhausted.
What’s the big deal? I’ve simply had an affair. All over Cinecittà, men and women were having affairs. That’s what happened on film sets. Most of them went back to the lives they’d had before and forgot all about it. That’s probably what would happen with Elizabeth and Richard, if word on the set was to be believed. But to her, it was a big deal – a huge deal. She felt dirty and used. She was horrified at the suffering she had inadvertently caused to Ernesto’s wife. And she felt sheer rage with him for the damage he had done, both to her and to Trevor. She didn’t cry – couldn’t cry – but she sat on her balcony long after darkness fell, watching the lights of the city and listening to the drone of Vespas speeding their drivers to bars and nightspots. Her love affair was over and life went on.
Next morning, when she reached the production office, she asked Hilary if she might have a private word and explained to her what had transpired the previous evening. Hilary immediately threw her arms round her.
‘Hell’s teeth, you poor old stick! I worried that he might be married but you seemed so sure … I’m so sorry. The truth is that you can’t trust any Italian men and that’s been the case since Cleopatra’s day.’ She pulled back, patting Diana on the shoulder.
‘I’m OK. I just feel such a fool. Do you think anyone knew, apart from you?’
‘Goodness, don’t concern yourself about that. If anyone knows, they’ll blame him, not you.’ She frowned. ‘However, it does present one problem because I suppose you won’t want him to accompany you to Torre Astura. I’ve just had word we’re allowed on the set tomorrow and I was going to ask you two to check it out.’
Diana was alarmed. ‘Can’t I go on my own? Ernesto didn’t do anything in Ischia except drive me around. My Italian is fluent enough. If you send me with a driver and tell me who to talk to, I’ll be fine by myself.’
‘Yes, that’s the best plan. I’ll tell Walter what we’re doing.’
‘You won’t tell him why, will you?’
Hilary patted her hand. ‘No one will hear about it from me. Not one word.’
‘I’ll go down first thing tomorrow morning. It will do me good to get away.’
‘Take an overnight bag and stay a couple of days. The sea air might help to clear your head.’
‘I think I will. Thanks.’
They walked together to the script meeting, then back to the office. All the time Diana felt nervous that Ernesto would appear; she didn’t feel strong enough for a confrontation. But fortunately there was no sign of him. At lunchtime she made her way to the makeup department to look for Helen and found her organising lipsticks in a gold-coloured box.
‘You hungry?’ she asked.
‘No, but I’ll keep you company.’ She looked tired and pale.
‘You must be worn out after yesterday. How many people did you make up?’
‘We weren’t allowed to make up the extras. Union rules or something. But I hear it was crazy over there. We’ve run out of Max Factor pancake foundation, and they’ve sent off for more. There’s not much I can do till that arrives.’
Diana bought a sandwich of mortadella sausage and got them two Cokes, then sat down with Helen at their usual table. ‘So what’s been happening to you?’ she asked. ‘Seems like ages since we caught up.’
‘Well …’ Helen gave a sly smile. ‘I know I’m always saying this and it never comes to anything, but there’s someone I’m keen on. A man.’
‘Oh yes? Anyone I know?’
‘Actually …’ There was a pause before she announced with a wide smile, ‘It’s Ernesto, that guy who works as a fixer. Don’t you think he’s lovely?’
Diana stared at her, utterly aghast. Had Helen really never got wind of their affair? How peculiar that she should pick this very day to announce him as her new crush. ‘I’ve got bad news for you,’ she said. ‘He’s married with four children.’
Helen gave a dismissive gesture. ‘Everyone’s married here. It doesn’t make any difference, does it? I could still have a fling with him. We’re only here once. You keep saying it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience and we should make the most of it …’ Her words tailed off as she noticed the expression of horror on Diana’s face.
‘I can’t believe you would do that to his wife! It’s immoral.’ She felt sick to her stomach and pushed the sandwich across the table. ‘You’re the one who was so disapproving about Elizabeth and Richard.’
Helen tried to justify herself. ‘He came on to me, you know. It’s not as if I chased him or anything. You know how hard it’s been for me to find a boyfriend even though everyone else has one and I just thought it was my turn to have a bit of fun.’
Diana spoke slowly. ‘When did he come on to you, Helen?’
She thought back. ‘The first time was over Easter. You were off with Trevor so I didn’t have a chance to tell you about it. Then he arrived at the club where we went dancing last night and was lovely to me.’ Suddenly she burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry you don’t approve, but it’s alright for you with your cosy marriage and your PhD and everything in your life being perfect. I’d like to get married too one day.’
Diana felt herself losing her temper, as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff as the grass gave way beneath her feet. ‘If you want to get married, you should try going out with single men. Stay away from Ernesto!’
‘But I like him,’ she whined through her tears.
‘You stupid, thoughtless girl!’ Diana was shouting now, vaguely aware that other customers in the bar had stopped to listen. ‘Does it mean nothing to you that people will get hurt because of your actions? Is it all a game? Is it just sex you’re after? I’m sure there are plenty of men here who would give you just sex, if that’s the kind of girl you are.’ She was being cruel now, and reined herself in. ‘Look, I’m sorry but please don’t go out with Ernesto. I’ve met his wife and she’s a decent woman. She doesn’t deserve this.’
Helen laid her head on her arms and sobbed. Diana stood up and scraped her chair back. She should comfort her. It wasn’t Helen she was angry with, but Ernesto. He must have gone straight out on the prowl after leaving her room the previous evening. And he knew Helen was a friend of hers, so why did he target her? The suspicion entered her head that he was trying to hurt her as revenge for ending the affair.
She considered again whether she should comfort Helen but she didn’t have the patience. She was too cross. Besides, she wanted Helen to take her seriously and stay away from Ernesto, so she picked up her bag and walked out of the bar without another word. The other customers watched her go.
All afternoon, Diana felt bad about their falling out. Helen was an innocent and would have been childishly delighted when Ernesto made a play for her. He was the villain. Diana hoped he hadn’t taken advantage of her already. Surely he didn’t work quite so fast? She frowned. Of course, Helen had mentioned something about Easter as well. If he had targeted her back then, he really was a louse.
The argument preyed on her mind so at five o’clock she went to the makeup department to apologise but the Italian women there told her that Helen had left earlier. Diana hurried towards the main gate to ask the guard on the gate if a car had picked her up yet. If not, she’d invite Helen for dinner that evening so they could talk it through. She should confess about her own affair with Ernesto so that Helen understood why she had snapped.
‘Sta in quel bar di là,’ the guard told her, pointing to a seedy-looking place down the street.
Diana walked down the dusty main road, past a lone paparazzo and some waste ground where a few goats were grazing, and when she reached the bar she saw Helen sitting inside with the Italian man called Luigi. Diana hesitated. She had never liked the look of him and decided not to interrupt them. She’d explain everything to Helen on her return from Torre Astura. They could make things up then.