The Italian Girls - Debbie Rix Page 0,22

Postman Always Rings Twice by James M. Cain. Have you read it?

Isabella had not.

The part I think you could play is that of the young wife, married to an older man – a bar owner. A young, handsome drifter arrives at the bar one day, and she falls in love with him. Together they conspire to kill her husband. I need to see emotion, passion, despair, desperation. I think you could do it.

Standing outside the hotel, she quickly scanned the scene they were going to shoot. It involved her and her lover arguing about the best way to kill the old man, before making up and kissing passionately. The woman’s impetuous actions were alien to Isabella, who was more inclined to careful consideration; neither was she cruel nor vindictive. But she was an actress, and should be capable of summoning up any emotion required. For this scene, she had to demonstrate both lust and an icy determination to commit the most terrible crime. She had to be demanding, persuasive, erotic. Isabella wanted the part badly, but feared that none of her previous roles – the prim schoolteacher, the poor blind girl – had prepared her for the volcanic passion this character demanded.

Filled with nerves, she finally pushed through the revolving doors of the imposing nineteenth-century hotel, and hovered anxiously in the lobby.

‘Signorina Bellucci.’ A tall elegant young woman was walking towards her with an outstretched hand. ‘I’m Anna, Vicenzo’s assistant. Please come this way.’

The hotel ballroom had been set up like a film set, with two cameras and lights. It was already hot, and beads of sweat broke out on Isabella’s forehead as she walked into the room.

A tall fine-boned man, his dark hair slicked back from his high forehead, turned to greet her. She presumed he was the director, Vicenzo.

‘Ah,’ he said, holding out his hands to her, ‘here you are… our little Isabella.’ It was such a tender thing to say. His voice was gentle and seductive, but his eyes – deep set, and almost black – looked as if they wanted to possess her. She felt herself trembling as he squeezed her hands between his. They were cool and dry to the touch.

She was to play a scene with the young male star of the movie – the actor Massimo Girotti. He introduced himself to Isabella, and he too held her hand. ‘You’re shaking,’ he said.

She blushed. ‘I’m terrified,’ she whispered.

‘But you’re a big star, what do you have to be nervous of?’

She glanced over at Vicenzo who was watching her intently.

‘Oh him,’ said Massimo. ‘The “genius”. He can be intimidating. But he wouldn’t have asked for you if he didn’t think you had what it takes.’

‘That’s just the point. I’m not sure I do have what it takes.’

‘Perhaps you a need a little help,’ Massimo suggested.

Isabella looked at him wide-eyed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘A little something to calm your nerves.’

He pulled a small pill box out of his pocket – gold, with an amber-coloured jewel on the lid. It looked like a citrine, Isabella thought. He opened it and removed a small blue pill.

‘Here, this will make you feel better.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Isabella replied hesitantly. ‘I don’t usually take anything like that.’

‘Neither do I, normally. It’s just something to soothe you. A doctor gave them to me – they’re quite safe. Take it.’ He handed her a glass of water and she discreetly swallowed the pill.

Within minutes she felt unnaturally calm – as if she had just enjoyed a long, hot bath. She yawned and rolled her head around, cracking her neck, easing the tension. Vicenzo watched her keenly.

‘Are you ready to begin the scene?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Perfectly ready.’

When she was filming with a director for the first time, it was quite normal for her to feel nervous. Her heart would beat faster, thumping hard in her chest. She had learnt to breathe through it, exhaling, bringing her pulsating heart under control. It was part of the process, and channelling those nerves ultimately resulted in a fine performance. But now, as the pill did its work, she felt no excitement, no sense of threat or danger, and her heart remained stubbornly steady and slow. It was as if she were wading through emotional and physical treacle, she thought. Even her legs and arms felt heavy and clumsy. The scene called for her to push her lover away, to shout at him, to tell him to leave her, before he pulled her towards him, kissing

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