‘Are you enjoying this?’ she asked Diamond in the faint hope that he’d had enough.
‘Brilliant.’
There was no opting out. This was not the best place to get lost if she tried returning to the stairs.
‘How’s your head now?’ Diamond asked.
‘About the same.’
‘I think I should warn you that at the end of the tour a man dressed as Harry Lime steps out and fires a gun at us.’
‘I can’t wait.’
That evening at the Prater they rode the Riesenrad, the giant Ferris wheel that had featured in the film. The worst of the clouds had rolled away to the south and Paloma’s headache had departed with them. She was actually enjoying the ride in the rickety old cabin. They were definitely cabins and not pods or capsules. Each was a little room like a railway compartment with a curved roof and windows. They shared theirs with an elderly man in a brown Tyrolean hat with a feather trim who was at the far end surveying the view with a benign smile. Below, ribbons of light stretched to infinity. The wheel itself periodically flashed silver and gold.
‘I don’t really mind hearing it again,’ she told Diamond with a smile.
‘What’s that?’
‘The Harry Lime speech about Switzerland, five hundred years of brotherly love, democracy and peace producing the cuckoo clock.’
‘I was going to spare you that. It wasn’t in the original script, you know.’
‘You tell me that each time.’
‘Orson Welles —’
‘That, too.’
He placed a hand over hers. ‘You’ve shown the patience of a saint all day.’
‘If I’m honest, I haven’t been feeling that way,’ she said. ‘But I can see how much it means to you, reliving the film.’
‘The old black and white movies have got it for me.’
‘I know. Giant shadows, sudden shafts of light.’
He took a deep, appreciative breath. ‘Like the night scene when Lime appears in the doorway.’
‘With a blast of zither music just in case anyone in the cinema isn’t paying attention.’
‘Er, yes. Well, it is called the Harry Lime Theme.’
‘And you grew up with it.’
He baulked at that. ‘The film was released before I was born. Orson Welles was old enough to have been my grandfather.’
‘Sorry.’
‘But that scene gets to me every time.’
‘Strange.’
He frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Harry Lime was the villain, selling adulterated penicillin. You’re supposed to be on the opposite side. You should identify with the Joseph Cotten character.’
‘But Welles had all the charisma. The film is clever, playing with your loyalties.’
She tried to see it from his point of view. ‘I suppose as a policeman you have to get inside the minds of bad people.’
‘Sometimes — but you aren’t supposed to admire them. Each time I see it, I really want him to stay at liberty. And today we walked in his footsteps.’
‘With great care, watching where we trod,’ Paloma said.
There was a movement at the far end of the cabin. The elderly man turned from the window and raised his hat. He may even have clicked his heels. ‘Excuse me. I heard what you said. You were talking about the sewers, am I right?’
‘You are,’ Paloma said. ‘We did the tour this afternoon.’
‘It wasn’t Orson Welles.’
There was an awkward silence.
‘Believe me, it was,’ Diamond told him. ‘I’ve seen that film more times than I care to count.’
‘Mr. Welles took one look and refused to work in such a place,’ the old man said.
Diamond was speechless, shaking his head.
‘Most of the scenes featuring him were filmed with a double, or in Shepperton studio in England.’ The old man seemed to know what he was talking about.
Paloma laughed. ‘Do you mean we traipsed through all those dreadful-smelling tunnels for no reason at all?’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ the old man said. ‘They did hours of filming down there, but little, if any, with Orson Welles.’
‘Why not?’
‘He was being difficult at the time, playing — what is the expression? — hard to get. He had an agreement with Mr. Korda, the producer, to star in three films, but nothing much had come of it and he was annoyed. This was only a cameo role. He is on screen for less than ten minutes of the entire film. I believe he was taken down to the sewer once to see a place where water cascaded from one of the ducts. Harry Lime was supposed to run underneath and get drips running down his face. Welles absolutely refused.’
‘You seem to know a lot about it.’
‘I’m a Viennese. It’s part of our city history.’
‘So they built a studio mock-up of the sewer?’ Paloma said, and she seemed to be leading him on.
‘That is my understanding.’
Determined not to have his day spoilt, Diamond rubbed his hands and said with conviction, ‘Well, at least Orson Welles did what we’re doing now — rode the Ferris wheel.’
The old man turned and looked out of the window again. ‘Have you heard of back projection? Look carefully next time you watch the film.’
Back in their hotel room, Paloma saw how deflated Diamond was and said, ‘We’ve only got his word for it.’
‘He seemed to know what he was talking about. I did read once that they shot parts of the film at Shepperton.’
‘Bits, I expect. It was the way they worked. It’s still a classic.’
‘You’re right about that.’
‘Silly old man. I bet he rides the damn Ferris wheel for hours on end lying in wait for fans like us.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Destroying people’s illusions — that’s his game. Don’t let him ruin our day, Peter. We did the tour. We visited the right places. You’ll spot them next time you see the film.’
He was grateful for her words. Paloma was a terrific support. She knew how his pleasure in the day had been undermined. And the weekend hadn’t offered much for her to enjoy. He’d been planning to fit in a visit to another of the film locations — the cemetery — next morning and now he changed his mind. ‘I’m going to suggest we do something different tomorrow. Our flight home isn’t until the evening. Let’s make it your day. How would you like to spend it?’
She took off her shoes and flopped back on the bed, hands clasped behind her head. ‘That’s a lovely suggestion. Let me give it serious thought.’
‘There’s some wine left. I’ll pour you a drink while you decide.’
‘Now you’re talking.’
But when he returned from the bathroom with the two glasses, Paloma’s eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly. It had been an exhausting day.
Over coffee next morning in a small shop near the hotel with a display of irresistible fruit tarts, they debated how to spend their last hours in Vienna. ‘Knowing you,’ she said, ‘and I don’t mean to sound offensive, you may not be too thrilled about this. So many great musicians lived and composed their masterpieces here. Could we find Beethoven’s house?’
‘Why not?’ he said, doing his best to sound enthusiastic. ‘Where is it?’
They opened their map and asked the waitress, but she didn’t seem to understand.
‘We need a phrasebook,’ Diamond muttered.
From behind them a voice said, ‘If it’s Beethoven’s house you want, you have about forty to choose from in Vienna. He was constantly on the move.’
‘Excuse me?’ Diamond turned in his chair, peeved that somebody had been eavesdropping.
The speaker wasn’t the old man from the Ferris wheel, but he could have been his brother. He had the same gnomish look and a voice like a scraper stripping wallpaper. Probably a Tyrolean hat was tucked under the table on one of the other chairs.