Sylvina looked on, as her lover shook hands with the large balding man in a T-shirt, huge baggy shorts and a backwards red baseball cap. At least he had the manners to remove the cigar from his lips as he leaned forward to catch Sharee’s name. He was in a huddle with Terence Hampton, a Brad Pitt lookalike — one of the many dotted around — and one of the Baldwin brothers, no one seemed to know which one.
Sylvina waited half an hour, moving around unobtrusively. She was asked to a couple of dinner parties that evening, but to everyone’s surprise she politely said she was otherwise engaged. The joke about Sylvina was that even if she was stranded in the Sahara desert she’d know someone there who would give her a free meal. Eventually she made her way back to Sharee.
‘This is Countess Lubrinsky,’ Sharee said to Goldberg, who beamed and offered Sylvina a glass of champagne.
She declined politely, raising the half-filled glass from which she had taken no more than a few sips. ‘I have a terrible headache. Do you mind if we leave?’ she whispered to Sharee.
‘What? Now?’
‘Sorry.’
Sharee put on a sympathetic face. ‘You go and lie down. I’ll come later.’ She leaned in close. ‘They’re all dining on his yacht later and he’s asked me. What do you think?’
‘Go for it.’ Sylvina smiled and left her.
Just after six Sharee returned to the villa to change. She was quite drunk, and was with three of Goldberg’s guests in their Rolls Royce Corniche. The volume of the CD player was so loud that Sylvina was forewarned of their arrival well before they appeared on the drive. Sharee was flushed with excitement at the prospect of the party on the yacht. The plan, she told Sylvina, was to potter around the bay then maybe sail along the coast to Monaco. She was hot, feverish and angry in case Sylvina threw one of her moods and insisted that she stay.
‘It’s entirely up to you,’ sighed Sylvina. ‘Go, if you want. They seem a great group of people.’
‘They are. And Terence is coming along. Why don’t you come too?’
‘Oh, sweetheart, I don’t want to move. Head, you know.’ She sank dramatically into a chair. ‘Pack your things, don’t worry.’
Sharee blinked, swaying. ‘Well, there’s no need for me to pack everything. I mean, it’s just a night or two.’
Sylvina smiled weakly. ‘Make the most of it. This could be your movie break, darling, what you’ve dreamed about. He’s very famous, isn’t he? Go and have a lovely time. And you know I hate having Justin looming over my shoulder, so I’ll probably go back to Paris if you stay on board any longer. If you’ve got all your things there’ll be no problem.’
‘Sure you don’t mind?’
Sylvina picked up her case and walked her out to the car, whose stereo was still playing Guns N’ Roses’ ‘November Rain’ at an ear-splitting volume. The Corniche vanished up the drive, leaving Sylvina waving wanly on the porch. It had been so easy.
By seven o’clock there was still no sign of Justin, and it didn’t look as if the planned dinner with William would be going ahead. The headache Sylvina had faked earlier was now coming on for real so she decided to go up to the roof for a cool swim. She paused as she passed her suite: her clothes had been taken to Sharee’s room earlier in the day. Vast clear glass bowls now held bunches of white lilies, which complemented the white bedspread, white lace cushions and the white muslin curtains that billowed out over the polished wood floor. The room was looking bare to the point of bleakness, but Justin’s impending house guest hated clutter. He always had to rearrange the furniture when she was around. He said she suffered from claustrophobia — or was it agoraphobia? Over the years she had had every phobia known to man. She was the most neurotic woman Sylvina had ever met.
Continuing up the stairs to the roof, Sylvina walked out into the clear night air, stripped off her clothes and eased her body into the pool. She loved to swim naked at this time of the evening. It was so perfect; the water cool and refreshing. She swam a few lengths then lay floating on her back, eyes closed.
‘She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?’ It was Justin, whispering to William.
Sylvina had not heard them walk out on to the roof, but hearing the whisper, she opened her eyes and smiled. ‘I didn’t hear you arrive,’ she said softly.
‘We got held up in some traffic,’ Justin said nonchalantly. ‘Then we did a tour of the villa, and here we are.’
‘It’s nice to see you again, William.’
William smiled shyly. ‘I’m sorry if I’m intruding.’
Sylvina swam to the side. ‘Don’t be. I’ll go and shower. Are we going to dine at home, Justin, or would you like to book a table?’
‘Eat in,’ he replied abruptly.
As Sylvina strolled past them she heard Justin speaking to Marta on the poolside phone and asking for chilled champagne. William looked even more uncomfortable this evening than he had on the previous night. He was wearing another crumpled suit, with a creamy shirt left open at the neck to reveal a patch of pale skin.
By the time they sat down to dinner, Sylvina observed that he looked marginally better having removed his frightful open-toed sandals in favour of canvas rope-soled shoes. She also noticed that he hardly touched his champagne but instead consumed copious amounts of water. She was quiet and thoughtful, allowing Justin to regale them both with one amusing story after another about his travels, then listened to him describing the numerous villas he has redesigned including his own. He told William that at one time fire had destroyed the entire top floor, and he had redesigned it. He ‘happened’ to have some of his designs on hand to show William, who seemed impressed, but not overly interested. Justin had already driven him around to show him various villas and gardens he had refurbished.
Eventually William leaned across to Justin and tapped his hand. ‘No need for overkill, you’ve already got the job.’
Justin laughed with delight. ‘I can’t stop thinking about what I’ll do.’
‘Just give me some plans to look over, and an estimate of what it’ll cost to do everything you’ve suggested.’
Justin turned to Sylvina. ‘William has a wonderful paradise island... Well, it’s not a paradise yet but I intend to make it into one.’
‘For a price,’ she said softly, and caught the ice in Justin’s eyes. But then she made him smile. ‘Justin’s the best interior designer I’ve ever known. Exciting, inventive and, considering what he’s made of this villa, a genius.’
‘Thank you.’ He grinned like a delighted schoolboy and then gave her a small wink. ‘We’ve had long talks about you.’
‘Really?’ she said nonchalantly.
On numerous occasions throughout the meal, she felt William’s eyes on her, but if she returned his gaze, he immediately looked away. Whenever possible, Sylvina took the opportunity to reappraise his looks. He had nice hands and wore an expensive slim gold Bulgari watch. On his left hand he wore a heavy signet ring on his little finger. His cufflinks, however, were multi-coloured enamel; not so good.
‘Shall we go into the drawing room or on to the roof?’ Justin asked.
‘Drawing room. I seem to have been on the roof all day,’ said Sylvina, smiling. William, very much the gentleman, eased back her chair to allow her to move from the table. He stepped aside and she walked ahead of him from the room. It was sweet that he was on his best behaviour, Sylvina mused.
As they headed for the drawing room, William disappeared to the bathroom, and Justin gripped her elbow. ‘He’s on the line, sweetheart.’
‘I can see that,’ she said coolly.
He whispered, ‘Not just for me. I’ve worked him over for you too. You’re gonna do the Pygmalion on him, and for one million.’