Chapter 8
They checked into a hotel on the hill overlooking the sea in Rapallo just before lunchtime on Tuesday. This was a fairly large seaside resort not far from the iconic jet-set hangout of Portofino which Marina and Emma had already discounted as too well known. After an unexpectedly good snack lunch at the station buffet, they caught a local train along the coast. The rugged coastline of the Cinque Terre was gorgeous and they snatched tantalising glimpses of it as the train ran in and out of the countless tunnels as it twisted and turned hugging the seashore.
Monterosso was a charming little village built right by the sea, its narrow streets curling steeply up the valley into the hills behind it. The railway itself barely emerged from a tunnel before the station and then disappeared into another tunnel through yet another rocky headland straight afterwards. The little town, with its pink, yellow and orange houses with their green shutters was picturesque and atmospheric but the problem was that it was jam-packed with people. It was immediately evident that to try to take the place over with a film crew, possibly for several days, was going to be next to impossible; even assuming the inevitable convoy of vans and trucks containing all the equipment could make it down there on the narrow mountain roads in the first place.
Regretfully, Emma had to scrub Monterosso from the ‘possibles’ list.
However, what they did next was much more promising. Marina had organised for them to take a boat trip along the coast and Emma immediately recognised an opportunity. As they sat on the deck of the little ferry, she explained.
‘We could incorporate a boat trip in the movie, maybe get Emily onto the yacht with Robert. That would be pretty romantic, wouldn’t it? She and he are getting ever closer now and a scene on board the yacht, looking back at the coastline here would be great, I’m sure. The coast here surely looks exactly the same as it did a hundred years ago, apart from the occasional modern bridge or building high up on the hillside.’
The green hills, covered with a mix of bushes, scrub and pine trees, sloped steeply down to the sea with barely any sign of human activity. Deserted coves and beaches dotted the coastline and the only people visible were walkers on the tortuous coastal footpath that linked the little communities. It would be easy enough to get permission to close that off for an hour or two while shooting or, Emma thought to herself, if the film crew came past in a boat very early in the morning they could probably get more than enough footage even without stopping the walkers. She knew full well that the editors back in Hollywood would easily be able to blank out any odd people in modern dress. So a coastal sequence went onto the list and she asked Rich to shoot two minutes of video to support it.
The boat trip took less than an hour and dropped them at the little town of Riomaggiore, from where they would take the train back to their hotel later on. It had been a very scenic trip and a very hot afternoon. Most of the men on the boat had stripped to their shorts, but, to Emma’s inexplicable frustration, Mark stubbornly kept his T-shirt on. The sense of attraction she felt for him was showing no signs of diminishing as the days went by – in fact, the opposite seemed to be happening. Although he hadn’t shown even the slightest hint of attraction towards her, the same couldn’t be said about her.
In spite of her best intentions, in spite of her reluctance to shack up with any man, she was finding herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame and this was causing her no end of exasperating self-analysis. Suddenly, here she was, prey to emotions she genuinely had thought completely missing from her make-up. Instead, it was now patently clear that this was not the case at all. After years of total conviction that she was a sensible, dedicated career woman, intent upon rising up to a position of importance in a multi-million-dollar corporation, she now found herself as confused as a lovelorn teenager. It was as frustrating as it was inexplicable.
The only consolation was the lack of spots on her face.
Marina also stripped off to reveal the top half of a fairly minimal bikini and Emma saw undeniable interest on Rich’s face. He was looking even more relaxed today and he had a bit more colour in his face. On their inaugural run this morning he had proved to be well able to keep up with Mark, although she had had the suspicion that Mark might have been throttling back for her sake. Unfortunately, Emma hadn’t thought ahead and had left her bikini in her suitcase so she had to sit alongside Mark, both of them covered up and, at least in her case, feeling decidedly clammy.
Back on shore, they were sitting under a parasol outside a little gelateria eating ice cream when Emma’s phone rang. It was Dexter.
‘Hi, Emma. Listen, I’ve talked it through with JM. By the way, he sends his best wishes and says thanks. Anyway, the plan of action is like this.’
He went on to tell her that he had already spoken to Laney in London and had arranged that they would fly her over to Italy at the weekend for a briefing and an introduction to the locations for the movie. The film director, Erasmus Delgado was in Europe and would also be jetting in from wherever he had been. Ethan would of course be invited as well and it would then be up to Erasmus to ‘bang their heads together’. It was down to Emma and her team to find a suitably ‘secure and discreet’ hotel where the presence of these three well-known faces together would not leak out.
Emma heaved an internal sigh. Easier said than done.
Dexter then went on to make it clear that it would also be greatly appreciated if Emma could lend a hand in greasing the wheels of the superstars’ relationship.
By the time he rang off, Emma was even hotter and more bothered than she had been on the boat. But this time the sun had nothing to do with it. Things were getting complicated, fast. She took a deep breath and broke the news to the others.
‘So, guys, it’s like this. Tomorrow, we’ve got Ethan pitching up for a quick look at the Leaning Tower and then the best dinner he’s ever had.’ She caught Marina’s eye and managed a grin. ‘No pressure there, Marina. Then he’s apparently heading off to Naples for some award ceremony or other but coming back up to join us for the weekend, as are Laney Travers and Erasmus Delgado, the film’s director.’
She glanced around at their faces. Even Rich looked shell-shocked. She did her best to sound encouraging.
‘Hopefully Laney and Ethan’ll be able to settle their differences and it’ll be all systems go for the movie.’ She read considerable scepticism on the faces opposite her, but she kept going. ‘First, we need to find a suitable hotel. According to our schedule, where are we going to be by the weekend, Marina?’
Marina nodded and consulted her phone. ‘Today’s Tuesday and we’re here on the coast. Tomorrow it’s Pisa, Ethan Dukes, the Leaning Tower and the big meal. I know you said to leave out famous cities, but we have no option, seeing as you mentioned Pisa to him. How does the next leg of our journey tie into the plot – what happens next for Emily?’
‘She’s finally given in and admitted to herself that she’s attracted to Robert, even though she still mistrusts men and hates living in a man’s world. However, Mrs MacDonald, the governess, doesn’t want her getting involved with any man. She bundles Emily up and they head away from the coast and on down into Tuscany. Seeing as we’re committed to going to Pisa with Ethan, we might be able to include at least a cameo of the Leaning Tower, but I think we’d better avoid Florence at all costs. It’s just going to be impossibly crowded there. What do you think, Marina?’