Dreaming of Tuscany Read online

  ‘I told you it didn’t look so bad.’

  Bee waited until the tears stopped before emerging from the shelter of the sheet.

  ‘Sorry about that, Gayle. Anyway, it’s all right; you don’t need to keep up the charade. I’ve seen it now. My face looks like a cross between the surface of the moon and a trifle.’ She did her best to sound resolute, but it was far from easy. ‘Anyway, thanks so much for coming.’ She glanced around, but they were quite alone in the room. ‘So, how’s Mimi Robertson handling it?’

  Gayle replied in similarly guarded tones. ‘You can probably imagine. She’s been screaming blue murder. Her agent’s threatening a billion-dollar lawsuit, claiming criminal negligence, demanding exorbitant damages. Rick says the board are crapping themselves.’

  Gayle was Liaison Officer, acting as intermediary between the production team of the film based here in Italy and the mother company back in Hollywood, and Bee had got to know her well over the past weeks in Siena. She was ten years older than Bee and had worked for the company for twenty years now and very little went on in Pan World without her knowledge. If she said the top brass were crapping themselves, they most probably were.

  ‘So, where is she? Has she gone home?’

  ‘Not yet. She’s hunkered down in a suite on the top floor of the Grand Hotel Continental here in Siena and she refuses to come out of the door. There’s a paparazzi encampment on the square outside.’

  ‘That sounds grim.’ Bee tried to raise herself into a more upright position, but the combination of a stab of pain up her thigh and a sudden throbbing ache in her head stopped her in her tracks. ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Just take it easy, Beatrice. You need time. I’ve been in every day, but they wouldn’t let me see you until now. You’ve been all wired up to loads of machines in Intensive Care. To be honest, they were very worried about you at first. They said you were hit really hard on the head and there was talk of possible brain damage. Thank goodness you’re all right now.’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. There’s the small matter of my face…’ Bee took a deep breath and did her best to rally her spirits. She was an intelligent woman, after all. What mattered was what she was like on the inside, not her outward appearance. She repeated this a few times to herself, but without any appreciable success. What was life going to be like in the future if she ended up seriously scarred? Would she be able to cope? Thrusting that thought to one side – at least for now – she tried to sound positive. ‘But you’re right, it could have been a lot worse.’

  ‘Has anybody else been in to see you yet?’

  Bee shook her head as she dabbed her eyes once more. ‘No. you’re the first. I still can’t get my head round the fact that it’s now Saturday. I’ve lost a week of my life.’

  ‘But you’ve survived – and they say you’ll make a full recovery.’

  ‘I don’t know about full, but the doctor said he hopes to have me looking a lot better by the end of the summer.’

  Gayle leant forward. ‘Listen, Bee, about that: we at Pan World are very conscious that the accident happened on our watch and we’re going to look after you. I know your contract was due to finish in a few weeks’ time, but I’ve been told to assure you that we’ll keep paying your salary until you’re fully fit again.’ She hesitated for a moment before adding, ‘And expenses. So, why don’t you take it easy for however long you need to get you looking and feeling good again? It was pretty serious, you know. You deserve a bit of time off.’

  ‘That’s very kind, Gayle.’

  Bee had a sneaky suspicion this generosity by the company was a pre-emptive attempt to ward off a claim for damages, but she didn’t comment. Accidents happened. The amount the company had been paying her for her services was at least twice what she had been earning as a university lecturer, and another month or two at that rate would make a real difference to her finances. What was more important was how she would look at the end of it.

  ‘I must admit the idea of a few weeks off does appeal. Please thank your superiors. That’s very generous.’

  * * *

  The doctors gave her something to help her sleep that night and, in consequence, next morning Bee woke up feeling rested and a bit more positive. She turned on the television and went instinctively to the news in English. After a fairly long piece on the latest developments at Westminster, just as Bee was beginning to tire of it, she saw a familiar face.

  ‘World-famous British film star, Mimi Robertson, is reported to be recovering well after the accident in Tuscany on the set of the new film, The Dark Prince, which resulted in her being injured and hospitalised. A spokesperson for Pan World Movies told our correspondent that Miss Roberson is now out of hospital, making good progress and hoping to be back in action before long.’

  This was accompanied by a montage of shots of Mimi, mostly taken from last year’s Oscar ceremony. Then, to Bee’s surprise, she heard her own name mentioned.

  ‘Also injured in the freak accident was British-born Doctor Beatrice Kingdom, thirty-one, a Medieval History specialist and historical adviser to the film company. She remains in Siena hospital.’

  Even more surprising was a close-up of Bee taken, by the look of it, fairly recently on the film set. In spite of the circumstances, she felt a little flash of pleasure to see herself on television and not looking too bad. In fact, with her clipboard, she did rather look the part of the visiting academic.

  ‘Doctors say Doctor Kingdom suffered a fractured skull and serious bruising, but her injuries are not thought to be life-threatening, although she is reported to be badly scarred.’

  Bee let out a long, heartfelt sigh. Somehow, hearing her injuries described on the television made it all so very, very real. She let the remote slip from her hand as she felt another wave of emotion threatening to engulf her. The shaky confidence she had been starting to build disintegrated as if had never existed, as those few words rammed home to her the extent of what had happened, and the consequences for her future. She was badly scarred and these scars, no doubt, would be with her for the rest of her life. Her eyes filled with tears and she found herself sobbing inconsolably, the repressed emotions pouring out as she descended into the abyss of despair she had been fighting so hard to avoid.

  An hour later, by the time Rosa appeared with her meal, Bee had managed to pull herself together again, but it hadn’t been easy. At least the nurse brought something that helped to cheer her. On the tray was a familiar, if battered, object. As Rosa picked it up and passed it over, she apologised to Bee.

  ‘We had to cut you out of your clothes so, unless you want what’s left of them, we plan to burn them. They’re a bit of a mess, so I didn’t bring them. But your bag here and your phone are in pretty good condition. The outside of the bag’s a bit burned, but the contents, including your phone, are fine, though. Here…’

  Bee took the bag gratefully, registering the information she had just received. Burning her clothes would be no great loss. Since arriving in Tuscany, she had spent most of her working days in shorts and a T-shirt and their total value, including her underwear, was probably not much more than the cost of a decent meal in a good restaurant over here. She glanced inside the bag and saw her phone, purse, and other bits and pieces just like she had left them, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘Thank you so much, Rosa. I was terrified I’d lost my phone with all my contacts. Go ahead and burn the clothes by all means.’

  After eating her unexpectedly good dinner, she felt strong enough to phone home and speak to her parents. They had a long conversation, in which she did her best to convince her mum and dad that she was well on her way to recovery, and by the time she hung up, she felt pretty sure they were reassured – even if she herself was still far from certain how things would turn out. She was just setting the phone down again when it started ringing. She didn’t recognise the number.

  ‘Hello. Beatrice Kingdom.’ As she was in Italy, she added a greeting in Italian. ‘Pronto, chi parla?’


  ‘Beatrice, hi, great to hear your voice.’

  She would have recognised the voice anywhere, and she was impressed. It belonged to no less a figure than internationally acclaimed, Oscar-winning film director, Amos Franklin, the director of The Dark Prince. They had spoken quite a bit over the past few weeks of filming, but mainly just about technical historical details, and they had certainly never got to the point of exchanging phone numbers. He sounded genuinely pleased to hear her voice and she felt herself blushing even though she was alone in the room. She felt genuinely happy for the first time since waking from her coma.

  ‘Hello, Mr Franklin. Thank you so much for calling.’

  ‘My pleasure. It’s the least I could do. So, how’re you feeling?’

  Bee was mightily impressed to be called by the great man himself. She shared with him the optimistic report the doctor had given her, finishing with the words, ‘So, hopefully, they’ll let me out in a week or so’

  ‘I do hope so.’ He sounded sincere. ‘You take it easy. I heard you almost died, after all.’

  ‘Did I?’

  Gayle had said pretty much the same thing, too. Bee knew the doctors had been worried about her, but almost dying…?

  ‘So Gayle told me. She said you’ve been in a coma.’

  ‘That’s right, but I’m feeling much better now. But tell me, how’s Miss Robertson? And was anybody else hurt in the accident?’

  ‘No, just the two of you. Mimi’s doing well, I believe.’ His voice was studiously neutral.

  Bee remembered what Gayle had said about Mimi’s legal team baying for blood. No doubt relations between her and the director were strained as a result. Sensibly, she didn’t comment.

  ‘That’s good. Have you been able to finish filming? Is Miss Robertson heading back to LA?’

  ‘We’d almost finished anyway and we’ve been able to shoot round her for the last few scenes, so we’ve got all the footage we need. As for Mimi, I’m not sure what her plans are. She refuses to let me or anybody else see her, and the doctors say it’ll be a month or two before the scarring to her face disappears completely, so my guess is she’s thinking of lying low for a while – you know, out of the way of the paparazzi.’

  ‘Lying low?’ Bee’s voice tailed off. Mimi Robertson’s face was so well-known all around the world, it would surely be next to impossible for her to disappear for long before being discovered.

  ‘Anyway, Beatrice, I’m delighted to hear you sounding bright and I just wanted to thank you for making sure the film is historically accurate. That means a lot to me.’ Bee felt a thrill of professional pride. ‘Your knowledge of the Middle Ages is impressive and I’ve really valued your input. I look forward to working with you again in the future. Just look after yourself now and get well soon. So long.’

  Then he added a short sentence that came as a real surprise to Bee.

  ‘Oh, and Joey told me to tell you he sends his love.’

  * * *

  Gayle dropped in the following afternoon with a massive bunch of roses and a cardboard box. From it she extracted a wig and handed it to Bee.

  ‘It’s real hair. Luis found it in Wardrobe. We wondered if it might be useful to you when you’re allowed out of here – you know, until your hair grows back. Why don’t you try it on, if you’re allowed to do that without disturbing all your cuts and bruises?’

  Bee took the wig from her and studied it. The hair was a rich auburn colour, straight cut, and it looked as if it would just about reach to her shoulders. Very carefully, so as not to disturb the dressings, she perched it on her head and smoothed the sides.

  ‘Wow, it really is like looking at a completely different person.’ Gayle sounded impressed.

  Bee reached for the mirror that Rosa had left on her bedside table. Hesitantly, she checked her reflection. Gayle was right. The wig changed her quite considerably and it looked remarkably convincing. And if she turned her head to the left, she looked almost normal again. Of course, if she turned the other way, she looked like a zombie. She dropped the mirror and glanced up at Gayle, forcing a smile.

  ‘I look like Scully from The X-Files.’

  ‘Well, you certainly don’t look like you, that’s for sure. It’s a hell of a change.’

  ‘Thank you, and do say thanks to Luis, too. I’m sure it’ll come in very handy.’ She reached up and removed the wig once more. ‘Listen, Gayle, can I ask you something?’ Bee knew she needed to know. ‘I got a call yesterday from Amos and at the end he mentioned that Joey sent his love. Is that just Hollywood-speak or do you think there’s more to it than that? I like him all right, but not in that way.’

  Gayle smiled. ‘Don’t worry your head about it. Joey loves everybody. He loves you, he loves me… he loves Amos. Of course, you’re a very pretty girl, Bee, and he likes very pretty girls.’ Her smile broadened. ‘And there are lots of very pretty girls who like him. Trust me, the queue is very, very long. You don’t need to worry, it’s just his way.’

  Bee smiled back at her. The last thing she needed now was some kind of involvement with a man, however rich and handsome he might be. Joseph Aquila, known to the world as Joey Eagle, was one of the best-known faces in Hollywood. He was tall, he was ruggedly good-looking, and he had the body of a Greek god. And he knew it. In the course of filming, Bee and the rest of the crew had seen quite a lot of his divine body, and she had to admire the obvious effort he must have put in to getting himself into such amazing shape. His pairing with the beautiful Mimi Robertson in The Dark Prince had attracted the attention of the world’s media, and the film was no doubt eagerly awaited by millions of devoted fans.

  Bee had met him a few times on set and he had been smiley, friendly and complimentary and, to her surprise, more than a bit flirty. She had always liked him as an actor and felt flattered to be on the receiving end of the attentions of such a demigod, but his reputation as a womaniser would have been enough to put her off the idea of getting involved with him, irrespective of her present lack of interest in the male of the species. A real hunk he most definitely was, but as far as Bee was concerned, she was very happy to leave him to the ‘very pretty girls’ who liked him. For a moment, Amos’s comment had worried her that she might be in Joey’s sights, but she now felt relieved. After everything that had happened over the past few months, she didn’t want to find herself in any man’s sights at the moment. Mind you, she told herself more soberly, with her face chopped to bits, he was hardly likely to come knocking on her door now anyway.

  ‘Well, if you see him, tell him I send him my love too.’

  ‘Will do.’ Now Bee saw a more serious expression appear on Gayle’s face. ‘Look, Bee, I have something to ask you.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What plans do you have for when you’re discharged from hospital?’

  ‘Nothing definite. If as you’ve told me the company will keep paying me for a while, I was thinking about having a holiday, although I’m wondering whether I should really be looking for a new job.’

  ‘What happened to the old job? Teaching history at university?’

  Bee took a deep breath. ‘I’ve still got it officially, but I’ve been on compassionate leave since Easter. I left in a bit of a hurry.’

  Gayle didn’t look in the least bit phased. Presumably in her world, people leaving jobs overnight was so common as to be unremarkable. ‘Trouble?’ Seeing Bee nod, she probed a bit. ‘Something happened at work?’

  ‘Afraid so.’ Bee hadn’t told anybody here what had really happened, but she felt she could talk to Gayle. ‘I had a problem with my Head of Department.’

  ‘What sort of problem?’

  ‘A groping sort of problem.’

  To her surprise, she saw Gayle smile, albeit grimly. ‘Wow, I thought that was the prerogative of my profession.’

  Bee shook her head. ‘Don’t you believe it. There are predatory perverts in the gloomy halls of academia as well, I’m afraid.’

  ‘So, what’s the de
al? What’s happened to him?’

  ‘It’s all very British. He’s being allowed to work out this term and resign his position next month at the end of the academic year with his reputation intact. Basically, he’s jumping before they push him, and I’ve been shifted out of the way – on paid leave – while it all happens.’

  ‘So he gets away with it?’ The smile had disappeared from Gayle’s face now. ‘Surely in the present climate, with the whole “Me Too” movement, they should have done more than that?’

  Bee just nodded. ‘That’s why I’m thinking about making a complete change. It’s a good university, and lecturing positions are like hen’s teeth in my field, but somehow I know I’m not going to feel comfortable back there again. They should’ve backed me up far more than they did. Besides, I think I’m ready for a change of direction anyway. I’ve loved these weeks working for Pan World. It’s been like a breath of fresh air. It would be great to find something like this again.’

  ‘And everybody says you did great. The problem is there are only so many historical movies being made. I tell you, Bee, if we could offer you a full-time job we would, but we just don’t have any plans to get involved with historicals again any time soon. Of course, if The Dark Prince is a box office success, we’ll almost certainly be going for a sequel, but that’s some way up the road.’

  Bee nodded. ‘I quite understand, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt me to look around.’

  ‘Sure. But anyway, your job, new or old, wouldn’t start back until the autumn, right?’

  Bee nodded.

  ‘So, for the next month or two, you’re kind of free?’

  Bee began to wonder where this might be leading. She soon found out.

  ‘Tell me, Bee, how might the idea of a few weeks in a luxury villa here in Tuscany sound? All expenses paid and, of course, you’d still get your salary from us.’

  ‘It sounds wonderful, but…?’