Ros remembered a line from a short story she had read by Scott Fitzgerald, about the rich being different from you and me. It had never seemed more appropriate.
She finally emerged from the cabana and inched her way into the water.
Dominic swam up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her under.
She screamed, and then they were all laughing, and before she knew it, her face felt slightly burned and her fingertips were crinkled from their time in the water.
They dried off and changed, just as a short, squat man emerged at the doorway to the house. He was wearing sunglasses, pale trousers and a bold coloured shirt that made his face look even redder.
‘Tony!’ Victoria waved as she slipped her kaftan back on over her bikini. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Cannes,’ he replied in an American accent.
Victoria slipped a loving arm around her husband’s shoulders.
‘Darling, you must show Dommy your new plaything.’
‘What have you been buying this time?’
‘Come and have a look,’ Tony said with pride.
Ros followed them back through the house to where a bright red sports car was parked in the drive. Dom was already sighing with envy before they had even got up close.
‘Ferrari Testarossa,’ said Tony, opening the driver’s door. ‘Fewer than forty of them have ever been made.’
‘And you’ve got one of them, you lucky devil,’ replied Dominic, drawing his hand across the paintwork. ‘She’s beautiful.’
‘Why don’t you take her for a spin?’ said Victoria.
Dom looked at Ros but didn’t say anything.
Victoria linked her arm through Ros’s, understanding the situation immediately.
‘Don’t mind us,’ she smiled. ‘We can go for a walk to the cove.’
‘Is that okay with you?’ asked Dom.
‘You know I get carsick if we go over thirty miles an hour,’ grinned Ros.
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Victoria. ‘We’ll go and change, and boys, make sure you’re back in time for dinner.’
The housekeeper showed Ros to their room, and she threw on a rustic blouse and a navy skirt, tying her hair back into a ponytail. She bent to the mirror on the dresser, touched up her lipstick and blew herself a kiss, realising with some concern how easy it was to get accustomed to this luxury.
‘You look lovely,’ said Victoria, waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. ‘I’m glad you’re wearing plimsolls. Some guests arrive with just a bag of high heels and they wonder why we can’t go and explore.’
Ros followed Victoria to the far edge of the grounds, where there were stunning views over the Mediterranean. She could immediately see what a spectacular location the house was in – perched in a sheltered hollow of coastline above Antibes, surrounded by lemon trees and wild flowers.
Victoria pointed out a herd of goats, which had been known to eat through the only telephone line linking them to the outside world. She described them as ‘pesky things’, but Rosamund found the idea of such splendid isolation quite heavenly.
As they talked about the literary heritage of the area – how Scott Fitzgerald had written The Great Gatsby from a rented villa in Saint-Raphaël, and how Dick and Nicole Diver from Tender is the Night were based on the Harbords’ friends, the wealthy ex-pats Gerald and Sara Murphy – Ros realised that Lady Victoria was not the glamorous trophy wife she had first thought. At one point she asked her how someone who was so obviously intelligent and educated could be happy just enjoying herself and throwing parties. Victoria answered the question in the spirit in which it had been asked.
‘People who think I’m a silly socialite are completely missing the point,’ she confided. ‘There is great value in bringing people together. I’m sure Tony wouldn’t be half as successful as he is without the currency I bring to the table. And I’m confident enough in myself not to have to trumpet my contribution.’
They picked their way along the coastal path and chose a spot to sit down at the top of a bluff, looking towards the sea, not a building in sight, only the cries of the birds and the breeze rustling the grass to break the serenity.
‘I’m glad that Tony and Dom are getting to spend some time together,’ said Victoria.
‘How so?’ asked Ros, peering over the top of her sunglasses.