Elliot must have noted her change of tone. ‘That’s the spirit, Emma, and listen, I got it here. You can relax.’
‘You know something, Elliot, I really think I can. I know you’ll be just fine. Thanks for the call. I mean that – thanks a lot.’
‘You’re very welcome.’ He sounded as relieved as she felt. As she slipped the phone back in her pocket she caught Mark’s eye. The little smile was still on his face as she walked over to him.
‘That was my replacement back in LA. Things are okay with the new movie.’
‘Were you in any doubt?’
She shrugged. ‘No… well, yes, maybe a bit. You know, stuff happens.’
‘But it hasn’t.’
She smiled back at him. ‘No, it hasn’t, so I’m a happy girl.’
‘I’m delighted for you. All your efforts paid off.’ As he spoke, he gently nudged her with his elbow.
She could still feel his touch several minutes later; it hadn’t lasted more than a second or two.
In the middle of the gardens was a fine ochre-coloured villa with blue-green shutters at the windows. Huge purple garlands of wisteria swathed the walls and the whole building was surrounded by exotic plants. A sign told them that this had been the home of Sir Thomas Hanbury over a century ago and it didn’t take much imagination to picture horse-drawn carriages passing though the arched entrance and depositing elegant ladies and gentlemen at the front door, where liveried footmen would have been waiting to usher them in for afternoon tea. This, too, made it into Emma’s report.
The views as they walked down to the sea were splendid. The sea itself was clear and transparent – light blue at the beach and darker further out. Marina pointed out that Monte Carlo was just around the next couple of headlands and, to prove her point, a series of ostentatious multi-million-dollar yachts came cruising by, their fortunate owners sunning themselves on deck as they did so. One was so large it even had its own swimming pool and helipad. There was little doubt that they were in the realm of the super-rich here. Somehow, Emma had the feeling Ethan and Laney were going to fit in just fine and enjoy themselves here.
They paused for coffee down by the shore. This part of the coast where Italy joined France was made up of inhospitable cliffs and rough, inaccessible beaches. It was virtually unpopulated, compared to Bordighera, Sanremo and the line of resorts stretching off into Italy to the east and large conurbations like Nice and Cannes on the French Côte d’Azur to the west. Down here the only engines they could hear were those of the distant luxury yachts, and the only voices were those of the visitors to the gardens. In fact, this area had clearly remained substantially unaltered since the days of Sir Thomas Hanbury and, of course, Dreaming of Italy. Emma shot off a bit of video to show just how tranquil it was and added this waterside location to her list.
As they sipped their cold drinks, they had a little council of war. Marina was keen to know where Emma wanted to head next. Emma had been flicking through the screenplay in the car and she outlined what was happening at this stage of the plot.
‘Emily’s still trying to come to terms with the fact that she feels attracted to Robert, this man she’s only just met, but her governess smells a rat and thinks it best to separate them. They take the train eastwards and somewhere along the coast they stop off at a hotel. Two or three days later they find Robert and his group of friends on a yacht in the very bay where they’re staying. So we’re going to be looking for somewhere by the water. Any ideas?’
Marina’s head tilted to the side in thought. ‘How about the Cinque Terre? Ever heard of that area?’
Emma shook her head. The translation was easy enough: Five Lands. But she had no idea where these five lands were. Mark, on the other hand, knew the area well.
‘If Italy’s shaped like a boot, the Cinque Terre region’s on the left hand side, right near the top. It’s a series of little fishing villages on a very rocky bit of coast below Genoa and there’s virtually no access by road. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage site and the whole area is gorgeous. Marina’s right, it’s exactly the sort of romantic place you want for your movie.’
‘So if there’s no access by road, how do we get there? Swim?’ Rich was looking puzzled.
Marina laughed. ‘The railway runs right around the coast so there’s access that way or, of course, by ferry boat or, like in the movie, by private yacht. In fact, I believe it’s now actually possible to get to most of the villages by car, but it’s a struggle and parking’s a nightmare. I think it’s best if we stay a bit further up the coast in Rapallo or Santa Margherita where there are lots of hotels, and take the train along to the Cinque Terre. I’ve been to a rather nice hotel there in the past and I can check to see if they’ve got space if you like the idea. And then the following day we can head down to Tuscany.’
Emma had no hesitation. ‘Brilliant, Marina – that sounds perfect.’ She glanced across at Rich. ‘Okay with you, Rich?’
‘Fine by me, boss.’
An hour or two later, just as they were getting out of the car back at the hotel in Bordighera, Emma got another call. As she glanced at the caller ID, she was surprised to see it was none other than Ethan.
Feeling more than a little curious – they were good friends but casual phone calls weren’t really their thing – she answered the call. ‘Hi, Ethan.’
‘Oh, good, Emma, hi.’
He sounded unusually flustered and the fact that he had used her real name, rather than just calling her ‘English’, was suspicious. She decided to try to keep it light.
‘So, how you doin’?’ Ethan did the Joey accent much better than her but, even so, she saw Mark’s eyebrows raise.
‘Me, yeah, fine… Well, no, not really. Not so good.’
‘What’s the problem?’ She shot an apologetic look at the others and headed for the privacy of the hotel garden. If the world’s handsomest man was about to pour his heart out to her, she knew she had to keep it confidential. As she reached the safety of the wide front lawn, she asked him again. ‘What’s bothering you, big guy?’
‘It’s Laney…’
‘Laney Travers? What about her?’
‘I don’t think she likes me.’ He sounded like a little boy and Emma pursed her lips to keep a laugh from escaping. It was hard to remember that she was talking to a hunky Hollywood star.
‘What makes you say that? Have you seen her?’
‘Yes, she’s over here in London, just finishing filming a romcom – something to do with the royal family, I think she said.’
‘You’re in London now?’
‘Yeah, I flew over yesterday to have a chat with her about working together. You know, break the ice sort of thing…’
‘And she told you she doesn’t like you?’
‘No… not in so many words, but it was pretty clear.’
Emma’s mind was racing. If the off-screen chemistry between these two titans wasn’t perfect, Dreaming of Italy could be heading for disaster before filming even started. She wondered if he had talked this over with anybody else. Did JM know?
‘How clear, Ethan? Tell me what happened.’