Page 38 of Under a Dancing Star

“What have you got there?” I ask.

“It’s your costume, of course,” she says, stepping over the threshold.

“My what?”

Hero drops the sheets on to the bed and I realize that she is wearing what can only be described as a white toga.

“Oh no,” I say quickly, holding my hands up in front of me. “I’m not wearing one of those.”

“You don’t have any choice,” Hero says, giggling evilly. “It’s all part of the ritual.” I eye the sheets uneasily. “I’ll dress you – Filomena taught me how to do it,” she insists. “I think you’ll look lovely, Bea, like a Roman goddess. Please let me; everyone else is.”

“This is ridiculous.” I sigh, but I’m no match for Hero’s pleading face. “Go on then,” I say reluctantly.

“Take off your clothes,” Hero orders as she snatches up a large white sheet victoriously.

I stand in my underwear and let Hero wind the sheet around me, moving the white cotton this way and that, her face screwed up in concentration.

“Ow!” I exclaim as she jabs me with a pin.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mutters. “It looked much easier when Filomena did it.”

“I can’t believe I’m letting you get away with this,” I say. “And I can’t believe Ursula did either.”

“Not just Ursula.” Hero smirks. “Klaus looks very fetching in a sheet.”

“Don’t tell me Fil’s got the boys to agree to this as well?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” Hero nods, a frown of concentration on her face as she fiddles with the sheet at my shoulder. “OK.” She smiles, standing back and looking at me proudly. “All done.”

I turn to look in the mirror and it is, unfortunately, not a transformative moment.

Far from resembling a Roman goddess, I look exactly like I’ve been wound up in two long white sheets, one around my waist and one around my torso, which is tied together on one shoulder. The outfit is finished off with a white-and-gold braid cinching me in at the waist, which I recognize as being a curtain tie from Leo’s study.

Still, Hero looks happy, so I murmur something about it being surprisingly comfortable. (That part at least is true, even if I do look like a badly prepared mummy.)

“Let me do your hair now,” Hero commands, gesturing imperiously to the chair in front of the mirror. I sit, and she spends the next few minutes carefully plaiting and coiling my hair into a glossy dark knot on top of my head which she pins in place. This part of the costume, I must admit, is rather flattering and I tip my face from side to side enjoying her work.

“You are clever, Hero,” I say.

“Filomena taught me,” she says. “I suppose Mother might have shown me how to do it one day…” She trails off, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder. I reach up and squeeze her fingers.

“I suppose she might,” I agree, even though I find it hard to imagine Aunt Thea having anything at all to do with tonight’s festivities.

“Are you happy, Hero?” I ask. “About Uncle Leo and Filomena, I mean?”

“Oh yes,” Hero says, just a shade too brightly. “I think Filomena is wonderful. I suppose it is a bit strange imagining them actually being married.”

I know what she means. Marriage sounds so respectable and ordinary that it is difficult to imagine Filomena doing it. Perhaps that is the reason for the slight reserve I have noticed on her side, I think, and the fact that no one ever mentions a wedding date. Maybe it isn’t what she really wants.

I bite my lip and look up at Hero’s reflection. She is playing with a loose curl that she has left out of my elaborate hairstyle, toying with it so that it brushes my bare shoulder, her face a mask of concentration. I hope that if Filomena changes her mind about the wedding Hero will not be too upset.

“Right,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I say, getting to my feet.

“Then let’s go.”

Hero leads me through the house and outside. I’m surprised when we pass by the empty terrace and keep going through the grounds, heading for the dense treeline that borders the edge of the villa’s property.