It was mid-afternoon when they reached the seaside. They drove through an unexpectedly hilly region just before the coast; the last ten or twenty kilometres on an autostrada that was an amazing piece of engineering, curving this way and that down the mountainside, in and out of tunnels, until it reached sea level. As it was a Sunday, there was quite a bit of traffic, presumably people from the big cities of Milan or Turin taking the opportunity to have a sunny seaside day out. They turned west and carried on along the spectacular motorway that hugged the coast, crossing valleys on scary viaducts before plunging into yet more tunnels through the headlands. The Mediterranean to their left was a deep blue, punctuated by white dots of yachts and even a large cruise liner. It was a fine view and from up here it was easy to make out the old road far below, based upon the ancient Roman Via Aurelia, with the railway alongside it that the characters in the movie would have taken.
Around mid-afternoon they came to the stylish seaside resort of Bordighera, not far from the French border, a stone’s throw from Monte Carlo. As they drove down the narrow, winding road into the town centre, they began to see spectacular villas on either side of the road, surrounded by luxuriant gardens. Clearly these had been the homes of the very rich.
Emma queried this with Marina. ‘These villas look pretty old. Do you think Bordighera was already a seaside resort back at the start of the twentieth century? Would these places have existed before the First World War?’
Marina shook her head. ‘Probably, but I honestly don’t know. We can ask Mark, the historian. He’s arriving by train in half an hour or so. Is a villa important for the movie?’
‘Sort of. Here on the coast’s the spot where the heroine, Emily, first catches sight of Robert, the army officer. They’ve just travelled down from the mountains, like we’ve done, and they’re staying in a hotel, but in my mind’s eye I imagine the hotel to look like one of these villas. It would be good to find an old-fashioned-looking one.’
Marina grinned. ‘Hold that thought. I think you might be interested to see where we’re staying tonight.’
The hotel turned out to be exactly what Emma had in mind. It was a large cream-coloured villa set back from the promenade and immersed in wonderful subtropical gardens that reminded Emma of JM’s place back in LA. The garden walls were covered in deep purple bougainvillea, and palm trees towered above a mass of shrubs and colourful flower beds. Marina told them it even had its own private stretch of beach a few hundred yards away for the use of guests. It was warmer today and Emma decided to go for a swim in the sea later on, once they had met up with Mark.
The girl at the front desk told them that the fine old hotel had started life as the private summer residence of one of the senior aides to the King of Savoy, whose wife had had her own villa just a few hundred metres along from there. It had already been turned into a hotel by the end of the nineteenth century so Emma was able to tick this off as a possible stopping point for Emily and her governess in Dreaming of Italy. She happily added it to her list of locations and thanked Marina most warmly for finding it.
It was certainly atmospheric and the gardens added a romantic air to the place. She promised herself she would come out into the park at twilight so as to take a few more photos. This might well be the place where Emily would first set eyes on the male lead played by Emma’s friend, the screen idol, Ethan Dukes, and she knew she owed it to him to find the perfect spot.
While Emma and Rich sat down under a parasol on the terrace in front of the hotel, Marina went off to collect Mark from the station. Emma phoned Elliot back in LA to check that everything was still on target for tomorrow when the cameras would start rolling on Sweet Memories. He sounded a bit miffed at her constant surveillance, particularly on a Sunday, but she wasn’t sorry. Ever since childhood, she had been a perfectionist and she wanted to ensure the movie was as good as it could be. Besides, it was her head that would be on the block if it all started to unravel, so she was as nice to him as she could be, but she made sure he was firmly on the case.
Finally reassured, she ordered an ice cream and a glass of mineral water while Rich opted for an ice coffee. Together, they reviewed the photos of the vineyards and, once again, his were generally better than hers and she told him so. He looked pleased to receive the compliment.
‘Make sure you tell my old man. At least it’ll show him I can do something right.’
‘I certainly will. Tell me, Rich, what did you do at university? Film studies?’
He smiled. ‘You’d think, wouldn’t you, but no, I did economics. I quite like figures and my father didn’t object. I guess he thought it might make me more useful to the business.’
‘And this is what you want to do as a career, to go into JMGP?’
He gave her a little smile. ‘What would you do in my place? It’s not every guy who can walk into a senior management position in a big company at the age of twenty-seven. I just hope I’m going to be up to it.’
‘You’ll do just fine, Rich, I’m sure. I like the fact that your father’s trying to get you to learn about it from the bottom up.’
‘You trying to tell me this is the bottom? From what my father says, you’re on the fast track to the top.’
This sounded very good, but Emma was quick to play down any developing importance she might have in the company. ‘First, we’ve got to help make Dreaming of Italy into next year’s blockbuster. Easier said than done.’
Just at that moment the familiar people carrier with Marina at the wheel appeared on the drive and drew up just below them. Emma’s eyes tracked the car’s movements and she watched as the car door opened and a man stepped out.
As Emma’s eyes alighted on his face, the weirdest sensation went through her. For a moment she thought it might be the cold ice cream on a warm, empty stomach, but as the man walked up the steps to their table, carrying a holdall in one hand, she got a better look at him and it happened again. This time she couldn’t ignore the fact that the cause of it somehow had to be down to him. And if it was, it had to be the first time in a long, long while that a man, any man, had affected her this way. She took a hasty mouthful of cold water and stood up to greet him.
‘Hi, Mark? I’m Emma and this is Richard. You’ve met Marina already.’
To complicate things further, as he shook her outstretched hand, another pulse of electricity went through her body. She waved him to a vacant seat and sat down herself, actually quite glad of the support, as her knees were feeling decidedly jelly-like. If he noticed anything, he was diplomatic enough not to comment.
‘Hello, good afternoon, Emma. Sorry I couldn’t join you in Turin, but something came up. I’m at your disposal from now on though, for as long as you need me.’ He had an educated British accent, but without any noticeable regional inflection.
‘Thanks a lot. I imagine you know what we’re in Italy for, don’t you?’ She was relieved to hear her voice sounding pretty normal, although she could still feel where his hand had touched hers.
‘My friend Gianluca told me you’re scouting locations for a new movie. And he said it’s to be set around the beginning of the twentieth century. Is that right?’
‘Pretty much. We’re actually looking at the days immediately before the outbreak of World War I – June 1914.’