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Authors: Nicola Doherty
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plummeted. Instead of his usual eye contact, he’s looking very interested in the far distance. ‘No, I never went there. Hey, it looks like we’re stopping. You want a swim?I might take a dip.’ He gets to his feet and holds out a hand for me. I take it. It’s a pretty dangerous thing to do, because I instantly want to keep holding it, but thankfully I manage to let go.
My head is whirling as we go downstairs, and not just because of the champagne. I wish I’d taken a Dictaphone or notebook, but on second thoughts, that would seem abit crass. But this is all suchgreat material. Despite what Brian said, he’s already given me two great scenes: the curtain call he couldn’t go to, signing the contract with the two-bit lawyer . . . But why did he react like that when I asked him if he had had a manager? Oh, no. Was I showing my ignorance – is it so terrible to have a manager? Surely it can’t be that unheard of. I watch as he heads to the rail, and looks out overthe water. Maybe he just wanted a swim? No, there was definitely something that he didn’t like about that question.
‘Alice!’ says Federico, coming out from the bar. ‘You should swim.’ He looks at me dubiously. Maybe he’s wondering if I can swim.
‘I don’t think I will,’ says Annabel. She’s reclining on a sun lounger, wearing enormous sunglasses. ‘I’m all slippery with sun factor and I can’t bebothered to reapply.’ Luther turns away from the water. I can see him giving her a good long look, and I can’t blame him – she looks stunning.
‘Suit yourself,’ says Sam. ‘I’m going in.’ He’s already wearing his swimmers, and seems to have abandoned his glasses somewhere. I notice again how athletic he is: broad shoulders, powerful arms and a flat stomach. I know some women love that type, butit just makes me think of all the hours he must spend in the gym. Simon didn’t have a six-pack, but unlike Sam he had interesting conversation, which is far more important, if you ask me. Sam dives off the boat with barely a splash, and Luther and Federico cheer.
‘OK, I’m there,’ says Luther. He starts stripping off there and then, and I notice Annabel is sitting up to watch him, as am I. Thisis something you don’t see every day. He’s utterly divine: not too muscular, just lithe and gorgeous. Absolutely no need for body doubles there. He dives off the boat, and starts ploughing away with a vigorous front crawl.
Annabel casually sits up and stretches. ‘Perhaps I will go in after all,’ she muses, and takes off her sunglasses. How can she be so obvious?
Federico and I watch as she lowersherself down, her beautiful arms flexing on each side of the ladder, until she releases the last rung with a dainty squeak at the cold, and starts swimming straight towards Luther.
‘Are you going to swim, Federico?’ I ask.
‘No! I have to look after the boat.’ He pats the rail proudly. I suddenly realise that my initial impression of him was correct: he is a bit empty-headed.
Federico sits downbeside me, no doubt for want of anything else to do, and starts chatting away. I’m grateful for the company, but I’m a bit taken aback when he tells me his entire life story. First he explains how difficult it is to get the right kind of yacht these days. Then it’s the best places to buy clothes in Italy – Rome or Milan, apparently, not Sicily – then about his apartment and how beautiful it is,and the stresses and strains of running the family business, which sounds as if it’s something like ‘semen’ – but that can’t be right.
‘I don’t think I know what that is,’ I say cautiously.
‘To make houses, roads,’ Federico says impatiently.
‘Oh, sorry. Of course,’ I say.
Unfortunately, cement doesn’t last long as a topic. I observe that Sicily is very beautiful, Federico agrees, and we lapseinto silence.
It is very hot and I do want to swim, but the thought of exposing myself in this hideous suit – in fact,
My head is whirling as we go downstairs, and not just because of the champagne. I wish I’d taken a Dictaphone or notebook, but on second thoughts, that would seem abit crass. But this is all suchgreat material. Despite what Brian said, he’s already given me two great scenes: the curtain call he couldn’t go to, signing the contract with the two-bit lawyer . . . But why did he react like that when I asked him if he had had a manager? Oh, no. Was I showing my ignorance – is it so terrible to have a manager? Surely it can’t be that unheard of. I watch as he heads to the rail, and looks out overthe water. Maybe he just wanted a swim? No, there was definitely something that he didn’t like about that question.
‘Alice!’ says Federico, coming out from the bar. ‘You should swim.’ He looks at me dubiously. Maybe he’s wondering if I can swim.
‘I don’t think I will,’ says Annabel. She’s reclining on a sun lounger, wearing enormous sunglasses. ‘I’m all slippery with sun factor and I can’t bebothered to reapply.’ Luther turns away from the water. I can see him giving her a good long look, and I can’t blame him – she looks stunning.
‘Suit yourself,’ says Sam. ‘I’m going in.’ He’s already wearing his swimmers, and seems to have abandoned his glasses somewhere. I notice again how athletic he is: broad shoulders, powerful arms and a flat stomach. I know some women love that type, butit just makes me think of all the hours he must spend in the gym. Simon didn’t have a six-pack, but unlike Sam he had interesting conversation, which is far more important, if you ask me. Sam dives off the boat with barely a splash, and Luther and Federico cheer.
‘OK, I’m there,’ says Luther. He starts stripping off there and then, and I notice Annabel is sitting up to watch him, as am I. Thisis something you don’t see every day. He’s utterly divine: not too muscular, just lithe and gorgeous. Absolutely no need for body doubles there. He dives off the boat, and starts ploughing away with a vigorous front crawl.
Annabel casually sits up and stretches. ‘Perhaps I will go in after all,’ she muses, and takes off her sunglasses. How can she be so obvious?
Federico and I watch as she lowersherself down, her beautiful arms flexing on each side of the ladder, until she releases the last rung with a dainty squeak at the cold, and starts swimming straight towards Luther.
‘Are you going to swim, Federico?’ I ask.
‘No! I have to look after the boat.’ He pats the rail proudly. I suddenly realise that my initial impression of him was correct: he is a bit empty-headed.
Federico sits downbeside me, no doubt for want of anything else to do, and starts chatting away. I’m grateful for the company, but I’m a bit taken aback when he tells me his entire life story. First he explains how difficult it is to get the right kind of yacht these days. Then it’s the best places to buy clothes in Italy – Rome or Milan, apparently, not Sicily – then about his apartment and how beautiful it is,and the stresses and strains of running the family business, which sounds as if it’s something like ‘semen’ – but that can’t be right.
‘I don’t think I know what that is,’ I say cautiously.
‘To make houses, roads,’ Federico says impatiently.
‘Oh, sorry. Of course,’ I say.
Unfortunately, cement doesn’t last long as a topic. I observe that Sicily is very beautiful, Federico agrees, and we lapseinto silence.
It is very hot and I do want to swim, but the thought of exposing myself in this hideous suit – in fact,
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