Second Act

Thirteen

With her elbows resting on the rail that ran round the upstairs gallery, Claudia watched the frenzied activity in the atrium below. Any fears she might have harboured about the production not being professional had vanished. The pulleys had been rigged up for the canvas scenery and Ion and Doris were hauling on one side, Skyles and Felix on the other, and with every run-through, the backdrop was changed that little bit faster.

‘That bloody rumpus in the street last night,’ Ion grumbled, his handsome face made ugly with a scowl. ‘I couldn’t sleep a bloody wink after that.’

All four men shared the same room, Claudia remembered. The same room where she and a Buffoon with a craggy, lived-in face had sipped wine…

‘Oh, really?’ Doris laughed. ‘Then who was snoring like a carthorse in the bunk above me? It’s the rest of us who couldn’t sleep, kiddo.’

‘Is that why you slipped out?’ Felix asked.

Perhaps it would have happened anyway, but the rope slithered through Doris’s hand, tilting the canvas at a drunken angle.

‘The bleach from your hair has washed into your ears and softened your brain,’ he said, and Claudia noticed a tightness around his mouth as he replied. ‘I didn’t go anywhere.’

‘If you two girls wouldn’t mind,’ Skyles called across, his biceps bulging from the strain of holding the heavy sailcloths. ‘Only, Ion and me are getting a mite tired over here.’

Doris pulled a face. ‘Sorry.’

Stage management was another factor which had to be worked into the production. Among such a small troupe, there was no room for the squad of labourers and skivvies that were employed in the bigger theatres. Like it or not, everyone had to pitch in with scenery and costume changes, even the castrato, and no one saw any conflict between big, bearded Ion wielding a dainty needle or a young man with chiselled cheekbones and traces of kohl round his eyes boasting muscles a stevedore would be proud of. Now, as the four actors hauled on the ropes, aiming for a count of twenty-five to get one backdrop up, then drop the other one, Claudia wondered why had Doris faltered when Felix asked, is that why you slipped out?

Especially when the question had been addressed to Skyles.

*

She was still speculating when the door to the porter’s vestibule banged open and Julia, Flavia and ten trunks of luggage deposited themselves around the fountain. The old bat wasn’t hanging about, then. Come for Saturnalia clearly meant come five days beforehand in Julia’s book, and Claudia already saw her penny-pinching brain computing how much money she’d be saving.

‘I’ve put you in Gaius’s room,’ she called down. ‘With dear little Flavia next door.’

Julia opened her mouth and then shut it. To complain that she’d prefer one of the other rooms would be to snub the brother she professed to have loved so dearly, whereas to request (in front of strangers, too!) that her whingeing foster daughter sleep further away would sound worse. She shot Claudia a pinched smile.

‘Thoughtful as usual, sister-in-law.’

Beside her, Flavia was standing with her mouth gaping at the pageant of tanned flesh and rippling musculature hauling away at the canvas, her eyes popping at the careless way the men balanced on a mere quarter rung of a ladder. Claudia smiled to herself. Whichever ‘highly unsuitable boy’ had been the object of Flavia’s latest crush, that boy was history. Four objects of passion had taken his place and her gaze jumped from one to the other as she followed Julia up the stairs to the opposite gallery. Frumpy, lumpy and not helped by a breakout of spots on her forehead, Flavia didn’t understand what kohl round a man’s eyes signalled. She interpreted it as daring and raffish, just as she mistook Felix’s bleached hair as an actor’s affectation. Dear me, Claudia thought, if Flavia transfers her affections to either of those two, she’s in for a shock.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Julia said, ‘but I’ve invited a friend to stay, too.’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Any more people who could keep her from this harping old fossil would be welcomed with open arms.

‘Well, you did say they were going to be the talk of all Rome, these productions of yours, and there’s this gentleman who could put a lot of business my husband’s way-’

‘Not exactly a friend, then?’ She should have known Julia wouldn’t have any.

‘It would be an excellent contact for Marcellus to cultivate,’ Julia sniffed. ‘He’s patrician, an oleiculturist, his family’s in the law-’

‘Remind me how useful an olive grower might be for an architect.’

Across the gap, Julia smiled condescendingly. ‘You don’t understand how these things work, dear. This gentleman is nobility, and he assures me that he is in a position to help Marcellus, so it’s only right we return the favour.’

‘In other words, you’re short of the readies to slip him his five to six pounds in silver?’

The smile froze into something approaching a sneer. ‘That is not the case at all. This gentleman simply mentioned that he would very much like to attend this particular function, and under the circumstances one could hardly refuse.’ The freeze thawed. ‘As I say, he’s an aristocrat, divorced, stinking rich-and very much taken with our little Flavia, I don’t mind admitting.’

‘I think I know him,’ Claudia murmured. ‘His mother dropped him as a baby and he was never the same after that.’

For a moment, she almost felt sorry for the lank-haired, round-shouldered lump goggling down at her four heroes, who’d decided they’d had enough physical exercise for one morning and were now reading through the script. Claudia saw visions of her being palmed off, like some character in one of Caspar’s plays, to some doddery old olive grower who had taken a shine to her childbearing hips. Then the sympathy vanished. Over the last year, Flavia had been bombarded with eligible bachelors. Almost from the day of her birth, Gaius had started paving the way with potential husbands and while Claudia had continued his labours after his death, Julia and Marcellus had also worked tirelessly to secure the girl a good future. With what reward? Flavia had insulted every single suitor and the time to be wilful was running out fast. Soon she would have no choice in the matter. Roman law was tough when it needed to be, and if she wasn’t betrothed soon, the State would step in and fix her up with a candidate of its own choosing.

Claudia resolved to have a word in her stubborn little ear tonight. Tell Flavia that it was high time the silly cow wised up. Marry someone she can at least get on with. Then have affairs like everyone else.

‘In fact, unless I miss my guess,’ Julia was saying, ‘you may well find there is something in this for you, sister-in-law. My gentleman is extremely well connected and I daresay he will be able to recommend our wine-’

‘Whose wine?’

‘-to his family and friends. As I say, his people are in law, which means the network’s probably spread right across the Empire.’

‘You don’t think you’re getting carried away here, Julia?’

The old bat chose to ignore her. ‘You might even know him. Yes, I think you do. He came here, once. I recall the occasion now. Gaius was entertaining-or was it just a family affair? No matter. The point is, you were there at the time, dear. Marcellus, as well, and yes, I do believe little Flavia actually sat next to him.’

‘What’s his name?’ Claudia asked.

If a girl is to be entertaining an influential contact under her roof, best to find out as much about him as she can. Especially if there’s a chance he might be part of the family one day. Also, nothing eases trade quite like a buried secret and the sooner she got rooting the better for everyone concerned. But the olive grower’s name would have to wait. Caspar chose that moment to emerge from his bedroom.

‘Why, good heavens, madam! You failed to mention that you had two such luscious creatures staying with you.’

Julia blushed unbecomingly. Flavia was still gawping at the actors, who had now been joined by half a dozen other men, although you could probably rule out Ugly Phil as a contender for her affections. Pleasant though this face might be, that set of horns and furry leggings were designed for laughs, not winning female hearts. But whatever rejoinder Julia intended to make to Caspar’s ostentatious bow did not get past her larynx. From his bedroom, which just happened to be situated next to Julia’s, a strapping blonde marched out, her gown ungirdled, her hair awry.

‘Is this your wife?’ Julia asked, smiling.

‘Not exactly, madam.’ Caspar’s hands made a deprecating gesture before one of them settled happily around Fenja’s waist. ‘But you know how chilly it gets in the wee small hours before dawn.’

‘Ja, ferry cold.’ Fenja nodded vehemently. ‘Vee heff much keep-fitting to do, not to be goose pimpling.’

A froth of bright red curls then put their head round the doorpost. ‘Mornin’ all,’ it yawned.

‘ Two?’ Julia gasped.

‘You can come and make it three, if you want, love,’ Jemima quipped, one strap slipping from her shoulder as she squeezed beside her pint-sized lover. Caspar’s little pudgy hand immediately slipped around her waist, ensuring that both arms were now firmly, protectively, possessively, round both girls.

‘I presume, sister-in-law, that you do not propose to expose my Flavia to these excesses of licentiousness?’

‘Too late, her jaw’s already dropped to the floor,’ Claudia replied, although Flavia seemed more fascinated than shocked. ‘Anyway, Marcellus has been banging on for years about how women should receive the best education possible.’

‘Educations, madam, do not come higher than Caspar’s Spectaculars,’ the little man confirmed solemnly, but Julia did not hear.

The merest mention of her husband’s name had sent her retreating to her bedroom as she realized this was yet another problem to contend with. It was bound to give him ‘ideas’, this bevy of femaleness clad in fabric you could almost read through. What on earth was she going to do? Gaius’s couch, goddammit, was a double one. How could she possibly fend him off in that?

Caspar’s eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘Run along now, my volumptuous beauties, run along. We have a cabaret to execute at the Circus, remember?’

He gave them both a slap on their ample backsides, and, shrieking with laughter, the girls tumbled boisterously along the gallery and down the stairs. The boards were still reverberating thirty seconds after they’d left.

‘Madam.’ He gave Claudia a sweeping bow. ‘I do believe this is the happiliest household in which I have had the pleasure to perform.’

It wasn’t entirely clear whether he was referring to his theatrical productions or his performance in the bedroom, but it didn’t matter. Because Flavia had come to a decision in the meantime.

Like a child poring over a litter of puppies and not knowing which to choose, she had finally settled on the one she would adopt for her next crush. Claudia rather hoped it would have been Ion, with his broad back and shoulder-length hair and voice that boomed like a god. It wasn’t, of course.

Like everyone else, she picked Skyles.