Marilyn Todd - Second Act

‘If you two girls wouldn’t mind,’ Skyles called across, his biceps bulging from the strain of holding the heavy sailcloths. ‘Only, Ion and me are getting a mite tired over here.’

Doris pulled a face. ‘Sorry.’

Stage management was another factor which had to be worked into the production. Among such a small troupe, there was no room for the squad of labourers and skivvies that were employed in the bigger theatres. Like it or not, everyone had to pitch in with scenery and costume changes, even the castrato, and no one saw any conflict between big, bearded Ion wielding a dainty needle or a young man with chiselled cheekbones and traces of kohl round his eyes boasting muscles a stevedore would be proud of. Now, as the four actors hauled on the ropes, aiming for a count of twenty-five to get one backdrop up, then drop the other one, Claudia wondered why had Doris faltered when Felix asked, is that why you slipped out?

Especially when the question had been addressed to Skyles.

*

She was still speculating when the door to the porter’s vestibule banged open and Julia, Flavia and ten trunks of luggage deposited themselves around the fountain. The old bat wasn’t hanging about, then. Come for Saturnalia clearly meant come five days beforehand in Julia’s book, and Claudia already saw her penny-pinching brain computing how much money she’d be saving.

‘I’ve put you in Gaius’s room,’ she called down. ‘With dear little Flavia next door.’

Julia opened her mouth and then shut it. To complain that she’d prefer one of the other rooms would be to snub the brother she professed to have loved so dearly, whereas to request (in front of strangers, too!) that her whingeing foster daughter sleep further away would sound worse. She shot Claudia a pinched smile.

‘Thoughtful as usual, sister-in-law.’

Beside her, Flavia was standing with her mouth gaping at the pageant of tanned flesh and rippling musculature hauling away at the canvas, her eyes popping at the careless way the men balanced on a mere quarter rung of a ladder. Claudia smiled to herself. Whichever ‘highly unsuitable boy’ had been the object of Flavia’s latest crush, that boy was history. Four objects of passion had taken his place and her gaze jumped from one to the other as she followed Julia up the stairs to the opposite gallery. Frumpy, lumpy and not helped by a breakout of spots on her forehead, Flavia didn’t understand what kohl round a man’s eyes signalled. She interpreted it as daring and raffish, just as she mistook Felix’s bleached hair as an actor’s affectation. Dear me, Claudia thought, if Flavia transfers her affections to either of those two, she’s in for a shock.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Julia said, ‘but I’ve invited a friend to stay, too.’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Any more people who could keep her from this harping old fossil would be welcomed with open arms.

‘Well, you did say they were going to be the talk of all Rome, these productions of yours, and there’s this gentleman who could put a lot of business my husband’s way-’

‘Not exactly a friend, then?’ She should have known Julia wouldn’t have any.

‘It would be an excellent contact for Marcellus to cultivate,’ Julia sniffed. ‘He’s patrician, an oleiculturist, his family’s in the law-’

‘Remind me how useful an olive grower might be for an architect.’

Across the gap, Julia smiled condescendingly. ‘You don’t understand how these things work, dear. This gentleman is nobility, and he assures me that he is in a position to help Marcellus, so it’s only right we return the favour.’

‘In other words, you’re short of the readies to slip him his five to six pounds in silver?’

The smile froze into something approaching a sneer. ‘That is not the case at all. This gentleman simply mentioned that he would very much like to attend this particular function, and under the circumstances one could hardly refuse.’ The freeze thawed. ‘As I say, he’s an aristocrat, divorced, stinking rich-and very much taken with our little Flavia, I don’t mind admitting.’

‘I think I know him,’ Claudia murmured. ‘His mother dropped him as a baby and he was never the same after that.’

For a moment, she almost felt sorry for the lank-haired, round-shouldered lump goggling down at her four heroes, who’d decided they’d had enough physical exercise for one morning and were now reading through the script. Claudia saw visions of her being palmed off, like some character in one of Caspar’s plays, to some doddery old olive grower who had taken a shine to her childbearing hips. Then the sympathy vanished. Over the last year, Flavia had been bombarded with eligible bachelors. Almost from the day of her birth, Gaius had started paving the way with potential husbands and while Claudia had continued his labours after his death, Julia and Marcellus had also worked tirelessly to secure the girl a good future. With what reward? Flavia had insulted every single suitor and the time to be wilful was running out fast. Soon she would have no choice in the matter. Roman law was tough when it needed to be, and if she wasn’t betrothed soon, the State would step in and fix her up with a candidate of its own choosing.

Claudia resolved to have a word in her stubborn little ear tonight. Tell Flavia that it was high time the silly cow wised up. Marry someone she can at least get on with. Then have affairs like everyone else.

‘In fact, unless I miss my guess,’ Julia was saying, ‘you may well find there is something in this for you, sister-in-law. My gentleman is extremely well connected and I daresay he will be able to recommend our wine-’

‘Whose wine?’

‘-to his family and friends. As I say, his people are in law, which means the network’s probably spread right across the Empire.’

‘You don’t think you’re getting carried away here, Julia?’

The old bat chose to ignore her. ‘You might even know him. Yes, I think you do. He came here, once. I recall the occasion now. Gaius was entertaining-or was it just a family affair? No matter. The point is, you were there at the time, dear. Marcellus, as well, and yes, I do believe little Flavia actually sat next to him.’

‘What’s his name?’ Claudia asked.

If a girl is to be entertaining an influential contact under her roof, best to find out as much about him as she can. Especially if there’s a chance he might be part of the family one day. Also, nothing eases trade quite like a buried secret and the sooner she got rooting the better for everyone concerned. But the olive grower’s name would have to wait. Caspar chose that moment to emerge from his bedroom.

‘Why, good heavens, madam! You failed to mention that you had two such luscious creatures staying with you.’

Julia blushed unbecomingly. Flavia was still gawping at the actors, who had now been joined by half a dozen other men, although you could probably rule out Ugly Phil as a contender for her affections. Pleasant though this face might be, that set of horns and furry leggings were designed for laughs, not winning female hearts. But whatever rejoinder Julia intended to make to Caspar’s ostentatious bow did not get past her larynx. From his bedroom, which just happened to be situated next to Julia’s, a strapping blonde marched out, her gown ungirdled, her hair awry.

‘Is this your wife?’ Julia asked, smiling.

‘Not exactly, madam.’ Caspar’s hands made a deprecating gesture before one of them settled happily around Fenja’s waist. ‘But you know how chilly it gets in the wee small hours before dawn.’

‘Ja, ferry cold.’ Fenja nodded vehemently. ‘Vee heff much keep-fitting to do, not to be goose pimpling.’

A froth of bright red curls then put their head round the doorpost. ‘Mornin’ all,’ it yawned.