Page 24 of Under a Dancing Star

I shiver. It is one thing reading the sober newspaper stories coming out of Germany, but they are hints only. This makes it feel very real.

“I’m sorry,” I say inadequately, and she shakes her head.

“Let us speak of Ben instead. If you want a fling, then that’s different,” she says, apparently happy to change the subject. “But even so – you do not have the experience needed to fence with a seasoned seducer like Ben.”

“I think I can hold my own against Ben, thank you very much,” I say firmly. “He’s neither as clever nor as charming as he thinks he is. Although…” I hesitate. “Although you are right that I don’t have a huge amount of experience with … with seduction.”

That is an understatement.

“Oh well, darling.” Another sort of smile curls on Ursula’s lips and her voice is a purr. “If you need advice in that department, you’ve come to the right person.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

What follows is quite enlightening. My glass is topped up a couple more times over the next lazy hour, and Ursula and I talk.

Or rather, she does. She spins stories of the various romantic liaisons she’s had, and each one is more scandalous than the last. I’m fairly sure she’s trying to make me blush, but there’s nothing new under the sun, as they say, and if one has observed the natural world as closely as I have… Well, let’s just say it’s a lot harder to shock me than she might think.

“The honeybee mates in mid-flight, you know,” I say at one point. “But the male bee dies shortly afterwards as his reproductive organ is ripped from his body during coitus.” I take a thoughtful sip of my drink. “I wonder if it’s worth it.”

Ursula’s eyebrows shoot up, and she looks as though I’ve rather taken the wind out of her sails. “I suppose you’d have to ask the bee,” she murmurs finally. She rises and stretches, then holds out her hand to me.

“Come on,” she says. “Let me give you the tour.”

She shows me around the rest of the summer house – not that there is a lot to it – and it turns out that what I had seen spread across the floor in her room are the pages of her current manuscript, all written in a cramped, spiky hand. She writes outside, she says, then types the handwritten work up on the rusting typewriter on her desk.

“I can’t exactly lug that thing around,” she says, gesturing at the lumbering typewriter. “And there’s something in the air here… I’m getting so much work done. It’s not just the place either; it’s the people. Filomena has made something special. The ideas, the arguments…” She trails off here, but I am already nodding in agreement. I understand the feeling she’s describing. It’s one I feel too.

Eventually I decide to leave Ursula to her work and head back. I find I am slightly unsteady on my legs as I make my way through the grounds. On the terrace, I see Filomena deep in conversation with Ben. It’s strange seeing him so soon after this afternoon, and then my conversation with Ursula.

“Bea!” Filomena calls. “Just the person I wanted to see.” Filomena looks calm as always, but Ben’s expression is unusually preoccupied. “Are you all right?” she asks, looking closely at my face. “You look flushed.”

“A bit too much sun,” I murmur.

“Ah.” She smiles. “Perhaps a rest before dinner?”

I nod in agreement, trying not to sway. “Absolutely.”

“We have more guests arriving to stay in the next couple of hours,” Filomena continues, “so I’d better get on.” With a wave that sets her golden bangles jangling she whirls into the house, calling for Leo in her musical voice.

“How are you feeling?” Ben asks.

“Fine,” I say, smiling at him generously. “Completely and absolutely fine.”

A Cheshire Cat grin stretches across his face. “You’re drunk!” he exclaims delightedly.

“You’re drunk!” I say, unthinking. “I mean, I am not drunk.” I shake my head again, trying to get a grip on the conversational thread that seems to be slipping through my fingers. “I have had a drink. But I am not drunk.” Though, truthfully, the world does seem to have taken on a rather smudgy, fuzzy-edged appearance.

The annoying smile remains in place and it makes me unreasonably angry that he seems so sure of himself. I squint at him, suddenly furious that his face is so perfect. Why does anyone need to have a face like that? It’s no wonder it leaves a girl feeling confused and off-balance.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“Your face,” I say, pointing an accusing finger at him, “is bothering me.”

Before he can say anything else, I go inside and head up to my room. My head is spinning. One thing is certain, I decide – nocino is not my friend.

Back in my room I pour a big glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand, then I lie on my bed for a while, waiting for the walls to stop wavering around me. I curse Ursula and her drinks trolley to a dark place. A dull headache is starting to pound behind my eyes and my limbs feel tired and heavy. An image comes unbidden into my mind – Ben’s face right before he asked if he could kiss me. I close my eyes tightly.

When I open them again the room is dark and I am disorientated for a moment. My stomach rumbles angrily. It must be dinner time.