very tidy, thank you.’
‘Grazie, signorina – I’ve been sweeping up the pine needles all afternoon.’
That evening, Isabella was holding a party. Most of the guests were from the film industry – her fellow actors and actresses, directors and writers, alongside a sprinkling of aristocrats. Inevitably she also had to invite representatives of the Fascist authorities who controlled much of the film industry, and Cinecittà in particular. They saw films as a useful vehicle for their political propaganda, and many of the stars were on intimate terms with senior figures in the government. Although Isabella didn’t count these men amongst her friends, it was prudent to maintain good relations. Besides, she rather enjoyed their devotion.
It seemed harmless enough, Isabella thought, as she pulled out dresses from her walk-in wardrobe, searching for something special to wear. She had no particular interest in politics. Why should she? After all, she was only an actress. But she had worked hard, escaping poverty in Argentina; she had made something of herself, and if she was required to be charming for an evening, where was the harm in that?
The guests began to arrive at eight o’clock. Soon the drawing room was heaving with actors in full evening dress. They jostled for space with ‘the bohemian set’ – young directors and writers, dressed more casually in cream linen suits, or pale trousers and waistcoats. The air was filled with cigarette smoke, and the drinks flowed.
Isabella, wearing a sheath of white silk, mingled with her guests, keeping an eye out for her handsome army officer. Maria had assured her that she had hand-delivered the invitation to his parents’ palazzo. Isabella checked her diamond evening watch – it was already half past nine and there was still no sign of him.
The actress Doris Duranti arrived just before ten. Clearly determined to make an entrance, she swept into the drawing room wearing a long silver-pleated Fortuny gown. Her companion for the evening was the Minister of Popular Culture, Alessandro Pavolini. Although married with a family, he was famously besotted with Doris. He dropped her off at the studios each day in his chauffeur-driven car and it was rumoured that he even accompanied her to the hairdressers. Men generally envied his ability to ensnare such a beauty, while despising his slavish devotion. Women, on the other hand, disapproved of the illicit liaison, but secretly admired her hold over him. He was not a particularly attractive man, Isabella observed, as the couple glided through the drawing room towards her. He had cruel dark eyes – slightly too close together – and his upper lip was dominated by a small moustache. His thinning dark hair was slicked back over his high forehead. Doris, by contrast, was exquisite, with a fine long nose, wide dark eyes and full lips. She had an exotic quality that could be mesmerising – both on screen and in person.
‘Isabella, darling.’ Doris grasped Isabella’s arms, kissing the air on either side of her face. ‘How lovely… Is everyone here?’ She looked around her, as if vetting the room.
‘Pretty much,’ said Isabella. ‘Did you have to bring him?’ she whispered.
‘Oh, he’s no trouble. He’s a little lamb really. He wanted to come, how could I say no?’
‘Doesn’t he have a family to go to on a Saturday evening?’
Doris glared at Isabella, her nostrils flaring.
‘That’s the problem with you, Isabella. You are so… bourgeois.’
Doris plunged into the crowd, dragging Alessandro behind her. She made a beeline for the Director of Cinema at Cinecittà – Eitel Monaco.
‘Eitel, darling, you know Alessandro, of course.’
Isabella turned away and picked up a dry Martini from a tray, trying not to show her growing disappointment that her lover, Ludovico, had still not arrived.
‘Lovely party, Isabella.’ Princess Matilda of Savoy had manoeuvred through the crowd and stood at her side holding a glass of champagne. ‘But you look a little sad.’
‘Do I? I’m sorry – I was just hoping someone would come…’
‘Who? Would I know him?’
‘I’m not sure if you would. He’s an army officer – Ludovico Albani.’
‘Ah! Ludovico – yes. He is a charming boy. I’ve known his family for years. They used to entertain lavishly before the war, in their palazzo in Rome.’
The Princess waved to someone across the room and drifted away, leaving Isabella with the sense that her interest in Ludovico was not to be encouraged. He was an aristocrat, after all, while she – in spite of her star status – was just a poor girl from Buenos Aires.
Two
The hills above Florence
September