‘So that is the reason you help out here in the infirmary?’
‘Yes. And for some years I enjoyed what I did, but all I had ever dreamt of doing was paint. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted that more than anything in the world.’
I nodded. ‘But to defy your father would have been out of the question?’ I said, taking in his sensitive face with its fine features and enviably long lashes, and the gentle cadence to his voice.
‘Everyone thought I was crazy, but yes, I disappointed my family by giving up medicine to go and study at the Accademia di Brera in Milan, then I went to Florence. I never felt so alive as I did during that time. It was as if I had been born again.’
‘To be the person you were meant to be?’ I suggested.
‘Yes,’ he said, his dark eyes opening wide, his expression brightening, ‘that was just how I felt.’
‘Were you then able to make a living from painting?’
‘I did, I am happy to say. If that does not sound too ... too arrogant of me.’
‘I would love to see something you’ve painted.’
‘Do you mean that?’
‘Of course. Do you have access to any painting materials here?’ I was thinking that maybe I could arrange for that to happen. I was thinking also how much I would like to do something for this intense and quietly spoken man. If only so I could see the melancholy fade from his eyes.
‘I do,’ he said. ‘In fact, I arrange a painting class here for the other POWs. It gives them something to do. Some of them are beginning to show some talent.’
I heard the pride in his voice and the poignancy of it touched me deeply. It made me more determined to do what I could for him, to help him feel less of a prisoner. I suppose that was when I began to fall in love with him.
ChapterThirty-Two
La Vista, Palm Springs
October 1962
Red
‘Just what the hell is going on there?’
‘Nothing’s going on, Gabe,’ Red lied.
‘The hell there isn’t! I’ve just been talking to Romily and she says she’s flying home tomorrow.’
‘She’s a grown woman who’s perfectly entitled to fly home any time she chooses.’
‘And what about the script?’
‘There isn’t going to be a script. Not if she’s leaving.’
‘Hey, don’t you dare try laying this one on Romily. If she’s going it’s because you’ve made her go. What did you do?’
‘Nothing. We just didn’t rub along like you imagined we would.’
‘Romily gets on with everyone. She’s a professional in all respects, so don’t give me any bunkum about her—’
‘Gabe, it didn’t work out, so just give it a rest, will you? You win some, you lose some.’
‘Yeah, and guess what, Melvyn and I are the ones losing out here. And I’ll tell you this for nothing, you won’t get anotherGod-damned chance to work with us again.’
‘Go on, go the wholehog-roast with your threat. Tell me I won’t work in thisGod-damned town ever again!’
‘Don’t tempt me!’
