Deep and Silent Waters

‘Let’s go to your room. I want to see them. You must go to the police, Laura! You’re taking a silly risk not showing them these notes.’

‘I’m only going to be here one more day, then I’ll be on my way back to London. What’s the point? Stop shouting at me! Forget I mentioned the notes. I’ve torn them up and flushed them down the lavatory.’

He swore. ‘For God’s sake! That was a damn stupid thing to do! You should have kept them, They’re evidence. Come on! What did they say?’

She couldn’t tell him without mentioning Clea and she couldn’t bear to repeat what the note had said, the words stuck in her throat. ‘Whoever wrote it doesn’t like me very much. That’s all.’ She reached for the door but Sebastian stepped in front of it.

‘Which made you think it was from me. After last night?’ His voice was harsh. ‘Well, thank you, Laura. That tells me a lot.’

‘No, I didn’t mean – You’re jumping to conclusions—’

‘Isn’t that what you’ve done about me? Not very nice conclusions, either.’

‘I’m sorry. But I did find that note this morning on my pillow and only you could have put it there. What else was I to think?’

He stared down at her pale face. ‘Okay. You say it’s from someone who doesn’t like you. What does that mean? Why won’t you tell me exactly what was said? Is he threatening you?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She looked away, her mouth a stubborn line.

‘Why are you so damn stupid?’

She laughed humourlessly. ‘I can’t help it, I suppose.’

‘Don’t sound so pleased with yourself!’ There was a brief silence. Then he asked, ‘What’s going on between you and Nico?’

She felt herself flushing, knew she must look guilty. ‘Nothing. You heard what he was saying – he wants me to pose for him.’

‘With or without clothes?’

The biting sarcasm hurt, but she answered, chin up, defiant, ‘More or less what I’m wearing now, actually, but with boots and a hat.’

‘Boots and a hat?’ Sebastian’s eyes widened, his brows met. ‘Is this a statue, or does he intend to paint you?’

‘I can’t, tell you. You heard him – he doesn’t want anyone to know his plans. It seems the art world is as competitive and treacherous as the film world.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Please, I must go, I have a very busy day ahead of me.’

‘Do you know yet which table you’ll be sitting at tonight?’

‘Mel knows, I haven’t checked.’ He moved away from the door and she turned the handle, saying, with relief, ‘Well, see you.’

‘What time are you leaving tomorrow?’

‘The first flight, I think, mid-morning.’

‘If you like the script I’ll be in touch in a few weeks in London, to draw up contracts for the film.’

‘Not with me, Sebastian, with Melanie. She deals with the business side, you know. I can’t make any deals without her agreement. You have to talk to her about the contract.’

He grimaced. ‘I know. But if you want to do it, don’t let her talk you out of it. You’re the client, remember, she’s just the agent.’

She giggled, ‘Don’t tell me that, tell Melanie. ‘Bye, Sebastian,’ then hurried away down the corridor towards the lift, relieved to have escaped.

‘I’ll send you the latest version of the script as soon as I get back,’ he called after her.

She waved without turning round. ‘Okay, I’ll look forward to reading it.’

‘And be careful!’ he yelled. ‘Don’t take any risks. If you get any more anonymous letters, take them to the police.’

She waved again, without answering, and walked into the lift. She was not as disturbed by them now that she was almost sure Sebastian hadn’t sent them. People in the public eye received notes like that all the time and most of them meant nothing. She had only had them since she came to Venice… which must mean that they were from someone here at the moment, or someone who lived here all the time and had access to this hotel – maybe someone who worked here. It could be anyone. She didn’t care who it was, so long as it wasn’t Sebastian.