Second Chances in Chianti (Escape to Tuscany Book 2) Page 4

  ‘Wow, how the other half live!’ He looked across at her and she could see the wonder on his face. ‘I suppose all this opulence takes you back to happier times.’

  ‘Not necessarily happier times, David – different times. I was never really that into the whole glitzy showbiz world. My five years in Bristol have been great and, don’t forget, they allowed me to meet you.’ She reached over and gave him a little kiss, but his eyes were still trained on the view.

  As they approached the steps leading up to the entrance to the villa, a figure appeared at the door and came running down to greet her.

  ‘Alice, hi, it’s great to see you again.’

  For a moment she almost didn’t recognise him. The intervening five years since she had last spoken to him had altered Richie, her on-screen and off-screen boyfriend, so much that he almost looked like a different man. His former shoulder-length brown hair was now barely an inch long and his once clean-shaven chin was dark with stubble. However, compared to a photo of him she had seen in Hello! a few years back, when he had looked scruffy, unkempt and sad, this new incarnation of Richie didn’t look too bad at all. From the tightness of his T-shirt around his shoulders and biceps, it looked as though he had been working out. She was relieved and delighted for him – and, if she was totally honest, she maybe even began to feel that same original spark of attraction for him resurface. That was something she hadn’t been expecting, not least while her live-in boyfriend was at her side.

  ‘Richie, hi, this is David. Hey, you look great, really great.’ She really meant it.

  He jumped the last few steps and came over to shake David’s hand. Then he hugged her tightly to his unexpectedly muscular body, which confirmed her suspicion that he had been hitting the gym. Unlike the last time she had seen him, all of five years ago, his touch no longer made her feel uncomfortable – quite the opposite, in fact. She glanced guiltily across at David, but her boyfriend was still gawping goggle-eyed at the grandeur of their surroundings.

  Richie stepped back, still holding her shoulders. ‘Don’t sound so surprised. I tell you what, Al, you’re looking absolutely fantastic, stunning… amazing!’

  Alice had to remind herself that she was once more in the world of Hollywood-speak, where nothing was ‘nice’ or ‘good’, but had to be ‘wonderful’ or ‘fantastic’. Hyperbole in these circles was the rule, not the exception. She was back in the land of superlatives. She gave him an even bigger smile.

  ‘If I sound surprised, it’s because I heard some stuff about you a few years back that had me worried. You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you looking so good.’

  ‘Well, if it helps, I was expecting to see you in scruffy jeans and a T-shirt after all these years as a student, and just look at you. You haven’t changed a bit. As for me… yeah, I went through a rough patch, and it took me a bit of time to get myself together. My analyst told me it was all down to the way things turned so sour at the end of Pals. Anyway, it’s all good now.’ She saw his eyes flick across to David. ‘Are you guys together?’

  ‘That’s right. As of a couple of years now.’

  Richie gave no response and led them up the steps. ‘You and I are the first of the bunch to arrive, but they tell me the others will be here later tonight.’

  ‘Who’s “they”? And what is this place?’

  ‘This is one of Conrad Chesterfield’s holiday homes. The word on the street is that he also owns an island in the Caribbean and half a ski resort in the Rockies.’ He lowered his voice, although there was nobody else to be seen. ‘I rather think he bought it with the profits we made for him with Pals.’

  ‘Wow, it’s quite some place.’ And it was. As she and David followed Richie inside, Alice found herself in a charming wide entrance hall with marble tiles on the floor, gold-framed mirrors on the walls and a domed ceiling high above. The ceiling was totally covered by a magnificent fresco of nymphs, angels and what were probably saints, all floating around amid the clouds. Alice’s art historian instincts were immediately aroused. It looked almost like Michelangelo might have come here for a bit of practice before heading south to the Sistine Chapel. It was stunning. She was still standing there, open-mouthed, when she heard an all-too familiar voice.

  ‘Alice, my dear, you look lovely.’

  Her heart sank as she turned and found herself confronted by none other than the formidable figure of Zoë. As she did so, she registered that it looked as though Millie’s theory that their unpopular director might not be involved in the new project was going to prove to be wrong. Still, swallowing her disappointment and drawing upon what vestiges of thespian skill she could still master, she treated her former tormentor to a beaming smile.

  ‘Zoë, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘And why would my presence come as a surprise to you?’ The smile of welcome had already slipped, as Zoë reverted to her trademark barbed tones.

  But this time Alice had resolved not to be intimidated. The very fact that Zoë was here made her own decision to participate in the new series distinctly less likely, so she stood her ground and fired a shot across the director’s bows. After all, she reminded herself, the best form of defence is attack.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, I thought you might have retired by now.’

  As Zoë was still in her fifties, this was a low blow, but Alice was determined to fight fire with fire. At her side, she felt Richie’s fingers catch hold of and grip her arm in shock. She saw a cloud pass across Zoë’s face but then was surprised to see it move on, to be replaced by an attempt at another smile – albeit about as warm as the plates of congealed lasagne they had often had to pick at with their forks for hours on end during filming of meal scenes for Pals.

  ‘There’s still life in me yet, Alice. And what about you? Failed your exams?’ There was a distinct sneer to be heard in her voice. ‘I presume the fact that you’re here means your academic career hasn’t worked out.’

  Alice was steeling herself to launch a vituperative counter-attack when the cavalry arrived.

  ‘Alice, sweetie, you look simply wonderful. Many, many congratulations on doing so well at college. Is it true we have to call you Doctor Butler now?’

  Emerging from a side corridor came Antonia, the head of light entertainment at AAATV. They had always got on well, and Alice was genuinely happy to be on the receiving end of a warm hug and real kisses to her cheeks, not just the routine air kisses into the middle distance.

  ‘Antonia, hi. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve been hoping I’d see you here. And yes, thanks, I got my doctorate. I’m so pleased to see you looking as wonderful as ever.’

  ‘Just getting older, dear.’ Antonia was probably in her early sixties, but she had always been a dynamic, decisive woman – and Alice admired, and liked, her a lot.

  ‘You look great, Antonia. Can I introduce you to David? We met at Bristol University. He’s a senior lecturer in drama.’

  ‘Hi, David, it’s great to meet you.’ Antonia shook his hand warmly and then pointed across towards Zoë. ‘Have you met Zoë? She was the director of the old Pals series.’

  Alice glanced sideways and was amused to see Zoë now wearing a totally unconvincing smile again, as she reached out and shook David’s hand. ‘Hi, David. Drama, eh? So does that mean you’re a wannabe actor?’

  As the opening to a polite conversation, it was pretty chilly, but Alice had warned him of the possibility of coming up against Zoë and he didn’t bristle – in fact, very much the opposite. The expression on his face was one of almost hero-worship.

  ‘I’m a wannabe director, if the truth be told. If I could ever become even half as good a director as you, I’d be immensely proud. Your results speak for themselves.’

  Alice saw Zoë’s expression warm at the compliment, and she was impressed. David certainly knew how to suck up to Zoë. Of course, he was right – up to a point. Zoë’s results as a director over the years had been great. It was the methods she h
ad employed to achieve them that weren’t. Alice saw her acknowledge the compliment with a little nod of the head and reply graciously enough.

  ‘Thank you, David. It’s a pity more people don’t share your opinion.’ The sideways glare she shot at Alice said it all.

  No doubt sensing the tension in the air, Antonia took Alice’s arm, prising her away from Richie’s grip, which had remained firmly in place ever since Alice’s counter-attack against the bullying director.

  ‘Come and we’ll ask Paolo to show you to your room.’ She glanced over Alice’s shoulder and beckoned to a friendly-looking man in a porter’s uniform who had just appeared. ‘Paolo, would you mind showing us the way? I believe you said Alice is in the Green Suite, didn’t you?’

  ‘I’ll see you later, Richie.’ Alice gave him a wave, rather regretting leaving him at the mercy of Zoë with nobody to protect him. He had never been able to stand up to her and, in spite of his newfound muscles, it looked as though that might not have changed. She caught hold of David’s hand, although he looked as though he would have been happy to stay there with Zoë. She found herself thinking that if this was an act, it was a damn good one. He had really given the impression he meant those things he had said. She resolved to warn him once more of the true toxic nature of the director he was complimenting.

  Richie, seeing them leave, waved forlornly back, but as Alice followed Antonia and the porter towards the stairs, she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of him hastily making good his escape, leaving Zoë standing alone in the hallway.

  Alice was delighted to have found that Antonia – who was Zoë’s boss, after all – was going to be here to act as arbiter. During the worst of the problems with the petulant director in the final years of the series, Antonia had been one of the few senior execs to express sympathy for the actors but, ultimately, the decision to back Zoë – even at the expense of the show – had come from over her head.

  Alice’s room was on the first floor at the rear of the villa, looking out over delightful formal gardens and, beyond them, across rows of vines to where the sloping hillside rose more steeply into thick woodland. A stone tower emerged from the trees on the distant hilltop and Alice wondered if that also formed part of the estate. Returning her attention to the room, she saw that it was predictably immaculate and spacious, with a high ceiling and an air-conditioning unit situated above the window. The window itself, she noted, had a fine mesh screen across the opening, no doubt designed to keep out mosquitoes and other undesirable insects.

  Paolo, the porter, set her suitcase down on what looked like an antique chest and let himself out again without a sound. Antonia stayed there with Alice and David, who was standing by the window, looking around appreciatively.

  ‘What a magnificent house and what a lovely room.’ There was wonder in his voice and Alice gave him an encouraging wink. It was clear that he was a bit overawed by it all. She looked back at Antonia and added her own appreciative noises.

  ‘You’ve got to hand it to Mr Chesterfield – he’s got good taste. I love the space and I love the views. I’d almost forgotten just how gorgeous Tuscany is.’

  ‘So how was it being a student, Alice?’ Antonia perched on a corner of a fine old ottoman. ‘Didn’t you miss the bright lights?’

  While David continued to direct his attention out of the window, Alice sat down opposite Antonia and nodded slowly. ‘Yes, of course, to some extent, but mainly just in the first year or two. I’ve always been hooked on art and art history, and it soon took over my life as completely as Pals used to do.’

  ‘And now? Are you seriously considering coming back to us to do this new series?’

  Alice knew her well enough to be frank. ‘I honestly don’t know. I’m quite settled back in the real world now and I’m aiming at a career in art history, but I’d be lying if I said the idea of a second chance at Hollywood – even if it was only for a year or two – didn’t appeal in many ways. I suppose it’ll depend on all sorts of things.’ Her eyes flicked across to David, who was staring out into the garden while doing his best to look detached. As she looked back again, she read comprehension in Antonia’s eyes.

  ‘Of course. And there’s the question of money, I imagine.’

  ‘No… well, yes, to an extent, of course. But it’s more a question of who I’d be working with.’ She caught Antonia’s eye. ‘I’m not talking about the other actors.’

  ‘I know who you’re talking about.’ Antonia nodded slowly. ‘And you’re not the only one who’s been wondering how things are going to pan out on that front. Conrad’s playing his cards very close to his chest on this one.’ She straightened up, glanced at her watch and headed for the door. ‘Anyway, let’s see what this week brings.’

  Alice knew enough not to press her on what was no doubt a tricky subject, seeing as Zoë and Conrad Chesterfield went way back and he had always stood resolutely behind the grouchy director up till now. She got up and followed Antonia to the door. ‘Yes, of course. By the way, are we going to get a visit from Mr Chesterfield himself, do you think?’

  ‘That’s anybody’s guess. I suppose, seeing as we’re in his house, he might put in an appearance, but I haven’t heard. Now, why don’t you two freshen up and come back down when you feel like it? I believe the others should be here before too long.’

  Chapter 4

  When Alice and David came back downstairs, there was no trace of Antonia or Richie so, rather than risk finding herself caught in a potentially toxic conversation with Zoë, Alice suggested going for a walk and David was all for it. They went back up to their room, changed into shorts and trainers, and headed out. Alice took her sketchbook, just in case something caught her eye.

  The sun hadn’t yet reached the horizon, but it was already casting long shadows. They started out by touring the formal gardens, mainly consisting of rose beds whose perfume filled the air. As they walked along the gravel paths, the constant background soundtrack was the hum of bees labouring industriously in among the multi-coloured blooms. For now, at least, there was no sign of the wasps that had given their name to the villa. There was little other extraneous noise, apart from the twittering of little birds and the hammering of a distant woodpecker in the trees on the hilltop.

  They headed roughly in that direction, passing out of the formal gardens into the vineyards, following a path around the side of the vines as the ground started to tilt gradually upwards. Lizards ran for cover as their shadows fell on them, and a handsome male pheasant suddenly erupted into a fit of what sounded like coughing as it flung itself into the air and flew off into the trees. Although the vendemmia, the grape harvest, wouldn’t be until September, the grapes were already the size of large peas and beginning to turn darker. Before long they would develop a deep blue-black sheen, as they grew and swelled. It was a charming walk, and Alice caught hold of David’s hand and gave it a little squeeze.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It’s another world. Not just the scenery and the plants and the sunshine, but the luxury of the place. The villa’s stunning and our room is about the same size as my whole flat before I moved in with you.’

  Alice could hear the awe in his voice and she remembered her first exposure to the sort of luxury that millions of dollars could buy. Her first year in Hollywood had been a succession of assaults upon the senses as she was invited to parties at the spectacular – and often spectacularly tasteless – homes of the rich and famous.

  ‘It’s not always like this. Don’t forget, we’re pretty much at the top of the pile here. Not all of Hollywood’s as opulent as this place.’ He nodded but she could see that underneath his façade of maturity and sophistication he was beginning to feel just a bit overwhelmed. She remembered she had a warning for him. ‘By the way, don’t get too cosy with Zoë. She’ll eat you for breakfast and spit out the pieces if you aren’t careful. But you did a good job of inflating her ego back there – not that she needs much encouragement.’

  ‘I mean
t it. I’ve been dying to meet her. She’s a legend to anybody thinking of becoming a director.’

  So he hadn’t been putting on an act. ‘Results aren’t the only thing that count. It’s how you get them. Surely you wouldn’t want to be as unpopular as her?’

  He shook his head. ‘It wouldn’t bother me. They say the best generals were universally feared and hated by their men, but they won the battles.’

  This didn’t match Alice’s recollection of history at all, but she made no comment, feeling more than a little surprised at his attitude. Clearly David had found himself a role model and she didn’t like the sound of that one bit. Still, a bit of brown-nosing by him might help to keep Zoë sweet – or at least a bit less acid than normal – which had to be no bad thing.

  Everywhere they walked, the earth underfoot was tinder-dry, but deep ruts in the baked soil showed where tractors had previously sunk down into soft mud. It seemed almost incredible that the now rock-hard ground could once have been so soft. The weeds and grasses around the edges of the field had been burnt yellow by the sun, and the dry leaves under their feet rustled and crackled as they walked over them. It was still hot and it came as a pleasant relief when they reached the relative cool of the shade cast by the trees that clothed the hillside further up, not least as the ground sloped more steeply now and the going started to get a bit tougher.

  Not long after reaching the shade of the trees, they came upon what looked like the same sturdy wire-mesh fence they had seen by the main entrance and realised that this probably marked the end of Conrad Chesterfield’s territory. On the other side of the fence, the thick undergrowth and dense forest looked untouched by human hand, and the shadows under the trees were so deep that it was almost like looking into the mouth of a wide cave.

  They carried on up the hill, shaded from the direct sunlight by the trees on the other side of the fence, following the line of the wire until they reached a little promontory. Here somebody had positioned a wooden bench with its back to the fence, in just the right position for them to be able to look back down across the parallel lines of the vines to the villa and then on past it to the tree-covered hills beyond. An acacia tree, festooned with sweet-scented bunches of white blooms, provided welcome shade. It was a charming place and a charming view, and Alice stopped.