go on a yacht with Luther Carson! I’m not going to let a hitch with the contract, or his nasty agent, stop me fromgetting to know him.
SIX
‘. . . So I don’t know if you knew this, but it came down to me or – guess who? Rosamund Pike. And the director doesn’t like Rosamund Pike. He hates her! He thinks she’s awful! He can’t stand her! But he was forced to have her because she’s a big name. He would have much preferred me though. It’s a real shame for him.’
As I listen to Annabel ranting on, it occurs to me that things would bemuch easier if we were doing her life story: she’s certainly very ready with information.
This yacht really is something. I’ve never known what all the fuss about yachts is, but this is wonderful. We’re going fast, but you can’t tell – it’s so smooth, it’s almost like flying. The coast looks so beautiful and green from here, and the sea is intensely blue, except where it’s foaming white behindus. The only thing that’s letting down the perfect scene is me.
I decided not to wear the scratchy linen dress, which felt a bit like a hair shirt. Instead I’ve thrown yesterday’s navy T-shirt on over the lime-green horror suit. Annabel, of course, looks sensational in a turquoise and blue bikini, with her hair in a cute turban. This suit is so indecent I have to stay covered up in my T-shirt,probably looking like an Amish schoolgirl, with my white legs providing a lovelycontrast for Annabel’s tanned, smooth limbs. To add the finishing touch to my outfit, I’m carrying my handbag with the scratchy dress tucked inside it just in case. Annabel of course has a beautiful striped cotton beach bag.
Our host, Federico, is also extremely elegant in a natty orange polo shirt and shorts. Heis about Luther’s age or a little older, and handsome in a kind of cartoon-hero way, with crisp curly black hair and bright blue eyes, and friendly enough, but with a strangely blank expression. When he and I were introduced he looked at me in a puzzled way as if he wasn’t sure what I was doing there.
‘This is Alison,’ Annabel told him. ‘She wants Luther to write a book.’
‘It’s Alice, actually.Hello,’ I put out my hand. As he shook it, he looked me up and down and I could tell he was wondering where on earth Luther found me. As far as I can make out, he and his wife are friendly with Sam and Luther, but how or why I don’t yet know.
Federico and Sam are now doing something manly with ropes towards the front of the boat. Luther and Annabel are lounging on the white sofa area below me,drinking champagne. She’s putting her hand on his arm and laughing away at something he’s said.
I’ve crept away to the top deck to get a few moments alone just lying in the sun. I had hoped to talk to Luther some more, but Annabel kept bringing the conversation back to Roman Holiday and also some independent film she’s been in. I get the impression she wants Luther to do something to help thefilm out. Sitting there with the two of them, I felt like a lime-green gooseberry. I just keep telling myself this is only a temporary hiccup, and I will get to talk to Luther properly at some stage. I decide to get some sun, horror suit and all, and take off my T-shirt.
I’ve had my eyes closed for what feels like about fiveminutes, when a shadow falls across me. I look up; it’s Luther. Everytime I see him, it’s as if reality bends and I have to get used to him all over again. He’s carrying two champagne flutes – chilled from the fridge – and a bottle of Moët. It’s like a daydream. My first reaction is embarrassment that he’s found me skulking up here – but of course, I’m thrilled, flattered, and amazed that he’s tracked me down. I bet Annabel’s not pleased.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘CanI pour you a drink?’
He sits down gracefully beside me, one knee propped up, the other leg stretched in front of him, and leans against the little cabin wall behind us. He looks even
SIX
‘. . . So I don’t know if you knew this, but it came down to me or – guess who? Rosamund Pike. And the director doesn’t like Rosamund Pike. He hates her! He thinks she’s awful! He can’t stand her! But he was forced to have her because she’s a big name. He would have much preferred me though. It’s a real shame for him.’
As I listen to Annabel ranting on, it occurs to me that things would bemuch easier if we were doing her life story: she’s certainly very ready with information.
This yacht really is something. I’ve never known what all the fuss about yachts is, but this is wonderful. We’re going fast, but you can’t tell – it’s so smooth, it’s almost like flying. The coast looks so beautiful and green from here, and the sea is intensely blue, except where it’s foaming white behindus. The only thing that’s letting down the perfect scene is me.
I decided not to wear the scratchy linen dress, which felt a bit like a hair shirt. Instead I’ve thrown yesterday’s navy T-shirt on over the lime-green horror suit. Annabel, of course, looks sensational in a turquoise and blue bikini, with her hair in a cute turban. This suit is so indecent I have to stay covered up in my T-shirt,probably looking like an Amish schoolgirl, with my white legs providing a lovelycontrast for Annabel’s tanned, smooth limbs. To add the finishing touch to my outfit, I’m carrying my handbag with the scratchy dress tucked inside it just in case. Annabel of course has a beautiful striped cotton beach bag.
Our host, Federico, is also extremely elegant in a natty orange polo shirt and shorts. Heis about Luther’s age or a little older, and handsome in a kind of cartoon-hero way, with crisp curly black hair and bright blue eyes, and friendly enough, but with a strangely blank expression. When he and I were introduced he looked at me in a puzzled way as if he wasn’t sure what I was doing there.
‘This is Alison,’ Annabel told him. ‘She wants Luther to write a book.’
‘It’s Alice, actually.Hello,’ I put out my hand. As he shook it, he looked me up and down and I could tell he was wondering where on earth Luther found me. As far as I can make out, he and his wife are friendly with Sam and Luther, but how or why I don’t yet know.
Federico and Sam are now doing something manly with ropes towards the front of the boat. Luther and Annabel are lounging on the white sofa area below me,drinking champagne. She’s putting her hand on his arm and laughing away at something he’s said.
I’ve crept away to the top deck to get a few moments alone just lying in the sun. I had hoped to talk to Luther some more, but Annabel kept bringing the conversation back to Roman Holiday and also some independent film she’s been in. I get the impression she wants Luther to do something to help thefilm out. Sitting there with the two of them, I felt like a lime-green gooseberry. I just keep telling myself this is only a temporary hiccup, and I will get to talk to Luther properly at some stage. I decide to get some sun, horror suit and all, and take off my T-shirt.
I’ve had my eyes closed for what feels like about fiveminutes, when a shadow falls across me. I look up; it’s Luther. Everytime I see him, it’s as if reality bends and I have to get used to him all over again. He’s carrying two champagne flutes – chilled from the fridge – and a bottle of Moët. It’s like a daydream. My first reaction is embarrassment that he’s found me skulking up here – but of course, I’m thrilled, flattered, and amazed that he’s tracked me down. I bet Annabel’s not pleased.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘CanI pour you a drink?’
He sits down gracefully beside me, one knee propped up, the other leg stretched in front of him, and leans against the little cabin wall behind us. He looks even
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