Chapter Twelve
Palm Springs
October 1962
Red
It was a hell of thing. This being with a woman who intrigued him the way she did.
To his bemusement Red hadn’t felt like this in a heck of a time. He could not have felt himself more precariously placed had he been carrying a large tray of glasses while walking a tightrope in a gusting wind. He suspected a lot of men had experienced the same reaction on meeting Romily Devereux-Temple for the first time.
Usually he didn’t give a damn what people thought of him, and nor did he usually have any trouble in persuading them to do what he wanted. But Romily was a whole different ball game. Which meant he had thrown his reliable rule-book out of the window for the simple reason he gave a huge damn about what she thought of him.
And that was based on three things.
Firstly, she was damned easy on the eye, a classy regal beauty who held herself tall and proud.
Secondly, when she’d removed her sunglasses during lunch today – the better to scrutinise him, he’d imagined – he’d been struck by the extraordinary violet hue of her irises.
And thirdly, what really piqued his interest was her blatant disdain for him. This was a new phenomenon for him, and he’d be damned if he didn’t rise to the challenge to win her round, to make her think well of him.
He had picked her up at Casa Santa Rosa half an hour after calling her, and had been gratified by her reaction to his Alfa Romeo. ‘A Giulietta Sprint convertible,’ she’d remarked, when he’d held the door open for her to get in. ‘I fancied one of these myself. Does she handle as well as I’ve heard?’
‘Like a dream. The clutch is as light and fluid as it comes and she holds the road like a barnacle clinging to the hull of a boat. You’re welcome to drive if you’d like?’
‘No, no, I’m happy to be a passenger.’
He’d sensed her politely doing her best not to watch as he’d eased himself stiffly into the driver’s seat. Her only comment was to observe how accommodating the car was for a man of his height. ‘It’s a damned miracle, given the build of your average Italian,’ he’d quipped, turning the key in the ignition and firing up the engine with a satisfying throaty roar.
He’d driven her along empty roads that were as familiar to him as any he knew, and out to his favourite spot in the desert. It was where few other people ventured. Most visitors to Palm Springs, particularly the ritzy crowd, didn’t go more than a few hundred yards from where they were staying, going only as far as the golf course and tennis courts, and the shops on the main strip, and the currently fashionable hotel bars, restaurants and nightspots. The artificial Palm Springs as he called it. They didn’t come to see the real desert by taking time to explore one of the many trails, either on foot or horseback, where they could enjoy a picnic beside a creek and breathe in the scent of wild tarragon. The thought of having a close encounter with a rattlesnake or scorpion put a stop to them experiencing the true majestic beauty of the mountains, where even in June there could be snow at the summit of Mount San Jacinto.
‘Do you trust me?’ he asked Romily when he brought the car to a halt on the side of a narrow dirt track, and switched the engine off, plunging them into sudden blackness.
‘It would appear I have no choice,’ she said, peering into the dark.
‘I promise no harm will come to you. If it does, Gabe and Melvyn will come for my scalp, and toss my carcass to the coyotes.’
‘Then we’d better do all we can to avoid that happening,’ she responded with a wry tone to her voice.
Out of the car, he popped open the trunk and retrieved a duffle bag and a folded travel rug. He then proceeded to light a kerosene lantern. ‘Are you bothered by snakes?’ he asked.
‘Not particularly.’
‘Good,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You can protect me from them.’
‘How about I carry something?’ she asked as he began slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder.
‘No need, I can manage.’
‘But it might be easier if I take something.’
He relinquished the rug to her and carrying the lantern, he led the way up a gentle, but rocky incline. ‘Watch out for the barrel cactus,’ he warned her, ‘their needles are lethal.’ As they climbed higher, he willed his leg with its new prosthetic to comply. Goddammit, he’d sooner gnaw off his good leg than admit he was in pain. A man has his pride, after all. And he was determined, at whatever cost, to make a good impression tonight.
He found his preferred spot in a semicircle of towering rocks that provided both shelter and warmth. With the sun beating down on the rocks all day, they acted as a great heat source at night.
He began assembling a campfire on the ashes of the last one he’d lit a few nights ago. Behind him, and in silence, Romily laid out the rug. When the first flames of the fire took hold, he joined her on the rug and waited for her to speak. It wasn’t in his nature to hold his tongue, but he was giving it his best shot in this instance. But then the desert had that effect on him, it slowed him down, gave him space to think.
The silence deepened between them. Staring towards the mountain, its shadowy broad outline just discernible against the dark sky, Red heard a rustling sound in the scrubby undergrowth. A lizard perhaps. Or maybe a scorpion.
‘I feel as though I can see every star in the galaxy,’ Romily murmured finally, her head tilted back as she took in the infinite sky above them.
‘Did you know the Milky Way contains about a hundred billion stars, give or take?’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘Now isn’t the best time to see it, spring is better. You should come again then.’
She said nothing.
‘I love being up here,’ he continued, his voice low. ‘I usually come alone. It’s where I come to get a fresh perspective. Especially if I’ve just spent any time in Hollywood. What’s your opinion of Tinsel Town?’
She sat up straighter, drew her knees in the cotton slacks she was wearing towards her chest. ‘It is what it is,’ she said, staring at him, her hands clasped around her knees. ‘It doesn’t pretend to be anything other than a brash carousel that never stops revolving.’
‘You like that in life, do you? Transparency?’
‘Yes. I can’t abide affectation, people pretending to be something they’re not.’
‘But isn’t the movie industry based on that? Nothing but lies and illusion?’
‘My ward Isabella is a young actress, and she tells me that to be a great actor, to get the most out of the part you’re playing, you have to be yourself and forget about acting.’