Gill Paul - The Affair

‘I wonder how that happened?’ Diana was puzzled.

‘Seems they don’t need him today after all. No harm done, though. We might go and look around the Colosseum and the Forum. Have you been yet?’

‘I haven’t had time,’ Diana admitted. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

‘Course I’ve seen the one they’ve got here. It’s more than twice the size of the real thing, I heard. That’s bloody Hollywood for you.’ Frowning slightly, she glanced through the window of the production office. ‘They like everything larger than life.’ She dropped her cigarette and ground it under a stiletto heel. ‘So what’s your role on the film?’

Diana explained and Sybil’s eyes widened. ‘You must meet Rich. He’s been doing a lot of background reading and I’m sure he’d love to have a chat with you. Maybe not today, though.’ She glanced inside again. ‘What’s your name, love?’ Diana told her. ‘I’ll mention you. Don’t worry. He’s not as fierce as he looks!’ She grinned in a way that seemed genuinely friendly and Diana warmed to her.

After they left, Diana entered the office to find Candy dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief while Hilary comforted her. ‘It was a simple misunderstanding. He’s got no right to be so rude to you.’ She raised her eyebrows at Diana. ‘Don’t upset yourself now.’

Half an hour later as they walked to the script meeting together, Hilary confided in Diana that the mistaken call had been entirely Candy’s fault and that she really wasn’t on top of the job. This was just one in a string of mishaps. Diana remembered that it was Candy who’d been supposed to arrange the car to pick her up from the airport – the car that never materialised.

‘Will she be sacked?’

‘No, but I’ll ask everyone in the office to try and watch her back from now on. Anyway, how was Ischia?’

‘Wonderful!’ Diana enthused. ‘They’re doing a great job down there. I’ll type up my notes later.’

‘And Ernesto behaved himself?’

‘Of course! He was the perfect gentleman.’ She caught a knowing look in Hilary’s eyes. ‘Honestly!’

She had lunch with Helen, who had been missing her, and relayed all the details of her encounter with the Burtons.

‘Did you know about their daughter?’ Helen asked. ‘They don’t know what’s wrong with her yet but she’s three years old and she can’t speak or walk; she just rocks back and forwards. I read an article about it.’

‘That’s awful! Poor Sybil. I wonder how she copes?’

‘They’ve got an older girl who’s fine, but it must be a worry.’

Diana considered Sybil with fresh respect. She must be a resilient woman to cope with that and put up with her husband’s philandering as well.

Helen seemed depressed so she asked what was wrong.

‘I really want a boyfriend and nothing ever works out. I was chatting to Antonio from the set department all yesterday evening but when I asked him if we could go out some time he said no, that I wasn’t his type.’ She sniffed. ‘It was so hurtful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

Diana put a hand on her shoulder. ‘He sounds like a cruel piece of work. It’s as well you found out sooner rather than later that he’s not the one for you.’ She considered suggesting that Helen let the man make the move next time – men liked to be the hunters, all the magazines said so – but decided not to be so personal. What did she know anyway?

‘My sister Claire’s got a lovely boyfriend. Did I tell you that she works for Vogue magazine in London? She’s glamorous and clever and her boyfriend is a stockbroker so they’ll probably be rich and have a big house and lots of children. My mum and dad are really proud of her.’

‘I’ll bet they’re even prouder of you,’ Diana told her, ‘and I bet Claire’s jealous. You’re working on the movie of the century with some of the world’s most famous stars. After this, you’ll be able to hand-pick the jobs you want anywhere in the world. You’ll never look back.’

‘You seem very cheerful,’ Helen said, looking at her curiously. ‘At least one of us is.’

‘I think we’re lucky to be here and we should make the most of it. Why don’t you and I go out tonight, Helen? I’ll treat you to dinner somewhere nice.’

‘OK,’ Helen agreed, with a brave attempt at a smile. ‘I’d like that.’

After they finished eating, she asked the waitress for a glass of milk. ‘Want to see something cute?’ she asked.

Diana followed her out of the bar and over towards the far wall of the studio where, under a large bush, there was a heaving mass of grey and white furry bodies. A cat lay full length, her eyes closed to slits, as half a dozen wriggling, mewling kittens scrambled over her and fought to attach themselves to her nipples.

‘They’re only a week old.’ Helen poured the milk into an old saucer lying by the wall and slid it towards the mother, who immediately began to lap at it with a delicate pink tongue. She bent to pick up a kitten and it was dwarfed by her hands.

‘They’re lovely,’ Diana said.

‘Aren’t they? I pop out here to watch them playing whenever I can find a moment.’

She was mesmerised by them, like a child, and Diana was glad she had found something to lift her low mood. It occurred to her that feral cats might well have fleas but she didn’t want to spoil Helen’s fun. With her face lit up and her blue eyes sparkling, she had a fresh, natural beauty to rival that of any movie star – even Liz Taylor herself.

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