Page 6 of Never Too Late
‘Hi, Steph. I’m Lottie. Welcome to paradise.’
Steph turned and shook hands with the redhead whose friendly smile came as another pleasant surprise. Somehow Steph had been expecting these super-rich people to be far more stand-offish, but such was evidently not the case. ‘Hi, Lottie. Yes, it’s an amazing place, isn’t it? Do you come here every summer?’
‘I wish…’ Lottie gave a little sigh. ‘We only arrived yesterday, and this is just about the first holiday Ben and I’ve had for years.’ She waved vaguely towards the pool and the sea beyond. ‘It beats the hell out of Hampshire.’
‘Is that where you live?’
‘Halfway between Andover and Winchester. It’s a lovely spot but we don’t very often get this sort of weather. Ah, here’s Donatella with the tea. She’s the most amazing cook. Just you wait.’
Steph looked back along the terrace to see a lady with greying hair emerge from the massive gaping tri-fold doors pushing a tea trolley. On it were two teapots, jugs of hot water and milk and what looked like scones. Apart from the scenery, they could have been in a traditional English tea house. All that was lacking was a big dollop of clotted cream, but Steph knew that that wasn’t an Italian thing. The whole experience was so unexpected, not least as Steph’s limited experience of rock star parties definitely involved far more sinister substances than tea and scones, but there was no sign of anything hallucinogenic on the trolley. It was certainly looking as if the band members of Royalty had moved on from a life of sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll, although Ben’s lethargic state was concerning. Hopefully Ethan would follow their example and clean up his act. But she wasn’t counting on it.
After a cup of tea and an excellent freshly baked scone with what was almost certainly homemade strawberry jam, Steph watched as Keith and Ethan disappeared inside the house, presumably to discuss plans for the forthcoming days. Keith didn’t invite her to join them and Ethan didn’t even glance over at her, so she bit her tongue and decided to go for a walk to clear her head. Obviously his ‘right-hand woman’ wasn’t important enough to be included in the conversation. Suppressing a few choice words, she thanked Faye and the others and went back down the steps past the studio and continued along a path that curled down the steep hillside to the little beach.
The beach itself was barely the size of a tennis court, covered in glorious golden sand. Slipping off her sandals she headed for the water and immediately discovered that the sand was scalding hot underfoot. She hopped hastily over to the waterline and let the Mediterranean cool her feet and her temper. Ethan was the boss and it was up to him to decide whether she should be included in any negotiations. Her job would start once the group came down to the studio so until then she resolved to concentrate on enjoying this place that Lottie had described as paradise; and not without justification.
On either side of the beach jagged rocky headlands protected the bay from the open sea and there was barely a ripple on the water in here. The only sign of human activity was at the end of the southern headland where the red roof of a house was just visible. From the faded look of the old roof tiles, this was quite probably another ancient fisherman’s cottage. Certainly, a fisherman couldn’t really ask to be much closer to the sea. The water was so clear that Steph could see down to the seabed for a long way, and so she stood there, mesmerised, staring down into it. The seabed was mostly sand with occasional weed-covered rocks. She didn’t spot any more fish, but she suddenly discovered another, bigger animal out there, swimming towards the beach. From the wet shiny black head and the nose just sticking above the surface her first reaction was that she was looking at a seal. As the animal approached, however, she realised that it was in fact a dog, a big dog, and it was heading straight towards her.
Steph didn’t have much experience of dogs. Her parents had worked full time so they had never had one in the house and her mother had made sure she kept her clear of any they met while out and about when Steph was little. As a result, Steph viewed the approach of what was clearly a big dog with some trepidation. This was quickly revealed to be unnecessary – well, sort of. Emerging from the sea, the big black animal trotted towards her, its tail wagging in a friendly fashion. It certainly didn’t look in the least bit aggressive and she allowed herself to begin to relax.
The trouble was that as she hesitantly held out her hand for the dog to sniff – knuckles first as she had been taught – it had barely touched her hand with its nose before it decided to shake itself vigorously. In a matter of seconds, she found herself on the receiving end of a shower of canine-scented water that soaked her and reduced her brand-new frock to a soggy mess.
‘Oh, dog, did you have to?’
Apparently pleased to be addressed by her, irrespective of her choice of language, the dog came closer and leant its soaking wet body against her leg, looking up at her with two big brown eyes, tail wagging lazily. She couldn’t stay annoyed with it for long, so she crouched down and stroked the big hairy head as she checked the animal out. She knew enough about dogs to recognise that this was a black Labrador, and she knew enough about anatomy to recognise that he was a male dog. He possessed a fine set of gleaming white teeth and a long pink tongue which appeared intent on licking every inch of her hands. He was wearing a red collar and attached to it was a little steel disc with a phone number on it; no name. She looked around to see where his master or mistress might be but saw no sign of anybody. Maybe he belonged up at the house. She was still wondering if she should go back and tell somebody she had found a dog when there was a whistle from somewhere above her and the dog was off like a shot. Presumably the Labrador was returning to his master.
The dog didn’t take the same track that had led her down here but ran to the other end of the beach and disappeared up a narrower path through the scrub. For a moment she thought she glimpsed the figure of a man up there among the broom bushes, but he disappeared from sight almost immediately. She was glad the man hadn’t come down to the beach as a glance at her soaking wet dress plastered against her body decided her in favour of a hasty return to the guest apartment for another shower and a change of clothes.
Chapter 3
Ethan had told her to bring some ‘smart’ clothes as well as her usual stuff and, although she knew there was no way she would be able to compete with the outfits of the rock ’n’ roll elite, she had gone shopping a few days earlier and bought two new dresses, not garments she wore very often. Unfortunately, one was currently soaking in the basin to remove the lingering Labrador odour and depending on how it dried out and whether she could borrow an iron, she knew she might have to look for a replacement. She was cheered by the thought that this did, of course, provide her with a solid reason for making that visit to Lerici and its ice-cream parlours. This only left her with the other dress, a rather nice light blue one that fitted her well. As ever, Ethan didn’t appear to notice and certainly didn’t comment, but she was used to that by now.
She and Ethan went back up to the villa at seven and found the group inside the huge lounge, with air conditioning providing welcome relief from the heat. There was aircon in the guest apartment as well but she hadn’t turned it on, preferring to open the windows as wide as they would go. Walking into the lounge, she heard the sound of music and realised that it was coming from Keith.
He was sitting on a leather armchair with an acoustic guitar rather than his trademark electric guitar on his knees. He wasn’t playing one of Royalty’s songs. In fact it wasn’t rock music at all. Instead, he was quietly strumming a gentle melody that she didn’t recognise and it sounded good. Cesare was standing behind a fully fitted bar on one side of the room, nodding his head in time to the music and just along from him Johnny had joined in. Instead of a drum kit, in front of him on the bar were three glasses, each containing different quantities of water, and he was beating time against the glasses with a pair of plastic cocktail sticks and occasionally thumping his palms on the bar.
Faye Bailey was sitting across the room from them on a sofa along with Johnny’s wife, Tara, and she beckoned to Steph to join her while Ethan headed for the bar.
‘Come and sit down, Steph. That’s a lovely dress.’
Faye gave her an appreciative look and Steph checked her out in return. She had changed out of her swimsuit but she wasn’t wearing anything outrageous; just a very smart linen blouse and a cotton skirt. Considering she had been part of the rock ’n’ roll scene for decades, Steph had been expecting something more ostentatious. Beside her, Tara could have been any suburban housewife in her flowery frock, although Steph could recall photos of her back in the nineties when she had scandalised the press with her outfits and behaviour. The tabloids had even nicknamed her Tara the Otter after she and Johnny had been caught skinny-dipping in the Serpentine.
Steph gave them both a little smile as she sat down. ‘Thanks a lot. I feel so privileged to hear two megastars giving a personal recital. Is this something they do regularly?’
Faye shook her head. ‘They haven’t played together since Vince died.’ Steph remembered hearing the news of the death of the group’s keyboard player while she was still at university: a fall from a seventh storey window as a result of a drug overdose. ‘In fact, this is just about the first time all three have been in the same room together since Vince’s funeral.’ As she spoke, the lounge door opened and Steph was pleased to see Ben appear, looking remarkably bright considering that barely an hour earlier he had looked so weary. Like Johnny, his hair was now pulled back in a ponytail but, unlike the drummer, his was silver grey all over. As Keith spotted him Steph couldn’t miss the welcoming smile that spread across his face.
‘Ben, great, come over here and jam with us.’
Alongside Ben was his wife, Lottie, and Steph saw her give her husband a gentle push towards the other two men. When she was sure he was on his way, Lottie came across to where Tara and Faye were sitting with Steph and addressed them in little more than a nervous whisper. ‘I wonder if he’ll want to join in.’
Tara added in equally hushed tones, ‘Did he bring a guitar?’
‘He didn’t but I did.’ Lottie gave them a conspiratorial grin. ‘I managed to stick his favourite one in, but he doesn’t know. We had so many bags he never noticed.’
Steph listened with some perplexity, dying to ask why they were talking in whispers, but she decided it wasn’t her place to intrude in their conversation. She looked on as Ben perched on a bar stool, but he made no attempt even to speak to the other two men. Cesare came over to him, but Ben just shook his head and waved him away. Clearly, he wasn’t craving alcohol, which also came as a bit of a surprise considering his reputation for wild living back in the day.
The other two stopped playing and there was a pregnant pause that lasted for several minutes before Keith looked back down at his guitar and started playing the unmistakable intro to the Rolling Stones’ classic ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction’. Johnny joined in on percussion and by the time the song finished, the glasses on the bar looked in danger of being knocked off by his impromptu drumsticks. Ben, however, made no move to take part and just sat there looking impassive. As they came to the end, Keith looked across straight at him.
‘Remember when we first played that, Ben?’
