Chapter 11
Gran Teatro La Fenice was one of the most celebrated opera houses in the world. It had hosted the world premieres of works by Verdi, Rossini and Bellini, and had twice been destroyed by fire, standing in its current incarnation since 1837.
From the outside, La Fenice – meaning ‘The Phoenix’ – was rather unassuming, compared with the array of ornate buildings for which the city was famous. Tucked away in a warren of streets, opposite the San Fantin church, it was a square, stone building, with a columned entrance and a balustrade balcony on the upper floor of the front fa?ade. Tonight, scores of opera-goers streamed up the steps to the main door, all dressed in their finery, the freezing night air abuzz with anticipation.
Gina was buoyed by the excitement, exhilaration coursing through her. She’d attended performances at La Fenice on a number of occasions over the course of her career, but there’d never been an occasion quite like tonight. It was the opening of La Traviata , with the world’s most famous soprano, Lucia de Santis, in the starring role of Violetta. A triumphant homecoming, the press were calling it, and all before the diva had even sung a note. The expectation was feverish.
Gina glanced to her right to see Marco striding up the steps beside her. He looked incredible in a full tuxedo, a woollen overcoat slung casually over the top but left unbuttoned. Marco was one of those guys who should live in a tux, Gina reflected. Some men looked too slick and smooth in black tie, but with Marco’s rugged, grizzled physique, he looked so masculine that Gina had caught her breath.
She was glad that she’d made an effort with her appearance too, in a midnight-blue, off-the-shoulder dress in crushed velvet, which fitted her slender waist perfectly before dropping to the floor in a full skirt. Her blonde bob was pulled up in an elegant chignon, her make-up pared back, highlighting her natural beauty.
Gina had thought she’d caught Marco glancing at her appreciatively, but that was impossible, surely. He was a happily married man with a young daughter.
As though he’d read her mind, he turned to her and smiled, the expression transforming his serious face, and Gina felt her stomach flip over. Oh, this was ridiculous, she told herself sharply, telling herself to tear her eyes away from him and focus on where they were going.
Brad would be joining them later; he would have caused a riot if he had gone in through the main entrance with the general public, and Lucia would never forgive him for upstaging her. He planned to slip in through a back entrance shortly before the performance began, and join them in the box Lucia had organized for them. Which meant that, for now, Gina and Marco were alone together.
‘This isn’t how I thought I’d be spending my evening,’ Marco smiled as he looked around the lobby, taking in the extravagant surroundings.
‘And I certainly didn’t expect to be a guest of Lucia de Santis,’ Gina laughed.
‘Let’s enjoy ourselves and make the most of it while we’re here,’ Marco grinned. ‘Can I get you a drink? A glass of champagne perhaps?’
‘Thank you,’ Gina replied gratefully. She rarely drank, but technically she wasn’t working, and a drink would calm her racing nerves and settle the fluttering in her tummy. Besides, she would have a moment to compose herself while Marco went to the bar.
She looked around, pulling back her shoulders and lifting her chin, standing tall on her silver strappy heels. The entrance foyer of La Fenice was spectacular, with marble pillars and a painted ceiling and two enormous chandeliers of jewelled spheres surrounded by rings of candle lights. Right now the lobby was filled with the great and good of Venice – politicians, aristocrats, socialites, artists, philanthropists – all chatting and drinking and smoking. Gina knew many of them, nodding across the room and waving hello to those she recognized.
With a pang, she realized that her wrist was bare; she always wore her grandmother’s bracelet on special occasions, and was devastated that she had lost it in the crush of Carnevale . Gina felt naked without it. She’d thought about putting an advert in the local paper, or offering a small reward, but the chances of getting it back seemed remote. It seemed likely that Gina would have to accept that her keepsake had gone for ever. She had so few memories from home – few good ones, anyway …
‘You look deep in thought,’ Marco commented, as he returned with two flutes of champagne.
Gina smiled, embarrassed to have let her mask slip for a moment. ‘Yes, I was just thinking about … Oh, it doesn’t matter,’ she finished, not wanting to admit how upset she was about losing a piece of jewellery.
‘You must be used to this sort of event, with your job,’ Marco said easily.
‘You’d think, but I never take things for granted. We’re very lucky, don’t you agree?’
‘Of course, but nothing is what it seems, even behind all this glamour. Well, backstage looks very different, a lot of hard work and effort by people we will never meet.’
She laughed, ‘I know the feeling; all the magic happens out on stage.’
‘Yet nothing would happen if it weren’t for the magicians pulling all the strings out back.’
Gina looked up at the ornate stucco plaster, the diamonds worn by the patrons glittering in the low lights of the auditorium, feeling the hum of excitement in the crowd. ‘I think Lucia could stand on a cardboard box and the world would listen.’
‘They wouldn’t dare not to.’ Marco grinned playfully and Gina couldn’t help smiling too.
‘Are you a fan of La Traviata ?’ Marco asked her seriously. ‘All that thwarted love and tragedy. “Let us be joyful, for love is a fleeting and short-lived joy”.’
‘Of course, you can’t live in Venice and not know about the death of Violetta,’ Gina nodded. For an instant, she thought she saw a look of pain pass across Marco’s face, but then disappear as quickly. Maybe she had imagined it.
‘Let’s have a toast. What shall we drink to?’ Marco asked her.
‘To a successful opening night?’ Gina suggested.
‘Yes … And to love.’
‘Love?’ Gina felt a blush spring to her cheeks.
‘We don’t want a toast to tragedy,’ Marco teased.
‘No, of course not,’ Gina agreed, feeling wrong-footed. ‘Let’s toast those invisible people backstage; the ones who create the magic.’
‘Yes, people like you and me,’ Marco grinned at Gina. ‘So, a toast to us then.’ Marco held her gaze as they clinked glasses, but Gina looked away. She was beginning to feel light-headed, even though she’d only drunk a sip of alcohol. She noted that Marco was familiar with the tragic tale of La Traviata . He was attractive, intelligent and cultured, she realized.
The gong rang out, providing a welcome distraction, signalling that the performance was about to start and patrons should take their seats.
‘Let’s go and find our box,’ Marco said, taking her arm, as Gina followed him out of the lobby and up the sweeping staircase, feeling a sense of d é j à vu. Where had she felt like this before? Before she could ponder further, Gina found herself amidst a sea of couture gowns, noting Rolexes on wrists and jewels the size of quails’ eggs hanging from slender necks. There was a light hubbub of chatter amongst the crowd, a whiff of expensive perfume and expectation in the air.
It was almost a relief to get to their box, away from the crush of the other patrons, but as Marco guided her to her seat, Gina realized that Brad hadn’t arrived yet and she was now trapped in a confined space with Marco, the door closed shut behind them. The air seemed to fizz with electricity, and Gina wondered whether Marco felt it too, or if it was all a figment of her imagination. She wondered what was happening to her; she’d never felt such a strong attraction to a man before, and she forced herself to focus on his wedding ring to suppress the feelings coursing through her body.
The box itself was beautifully ornate, a profusion of gilt and velvet and historic detailing. The theatre itself was a lavish horseshoe of gold boxes facing towards the red-curtained stage, in front of which the orchestra were playing a sweeping overture. The ceiling was painted with mythical figures on a background of blue sky, and hanging from the centre of it was the largest chandelier Gina had ever seen.
‘Daniela had a wonderful time with you yesterday.’
‘Did she?’ Gina felt unexpectedly pleased to hear it. ‘She’s great company. You and your wife must be so proud of her.’
Confusion flickered across Marco’s face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then the door burst open and Brad Redford strolled in, beaming from ear to ear.
‘I can’t believe this place. It’s incredible!’ Brad exclaimed, as he clapped Marco on the back and kissed Gina on both cheeks. ‘And don’t you two make a beautiful couple,’ he grinned.
Gina glanced up and locked eyes with Marco, a sudden jolt of electricity shooting between them. She looked away quickly, but the after-effects still lingered, her skin tingling, sparks fizzing through her bloodstream.
‘Shall we take our seats?’ Brad suggested, oblivious to the chemistry simmering in the air. ‘It’s showtime!’
‘Sure,’ Marco agreed, gesturing for Gina to go ahead.
She slipped into the middle seat, her heels sinking into the plush carpet, her dress trailing over the red velvet chairs. Marco came to sit on her left, while Brad took the right.
‘A rose between two thorns,’ he chuckled.
Then the lights went down, and Gina was grateful that no one could see her expression. With the almost-empty glass of champagne, movie star Brad Redford on one side of her and the charismatic Marco DiMaggio on the other, Gina was feeling decidedly giddy.
Lucia’s performance was faultless. Gina found herself on the edge of her seat, utterly spellbound and completely wrapped up in the music, though she felt sure that Lucia was directing her performance towards their box. It didn’t matter, La Leonessa’s joyful aria – ‘ Sempre libera ’ – was masterful, and her final scenes moved Gina to tears.
She wiped a finger under her eyes in case her mascara had run, and the gesture caused Marco to look across. Their gazes locked.
‘I’ve never experienced anything like that; how something so tragic can be so uplifting at the same time,’ she said, her voice filled with amazement.
Marco smiled, his eyes soft like melting chocolate. ‘Puccini knew the human soul.’
Gina thought Marco looked so sincere when he said this that she almost wanted to touch his cheek in response.
Snap out of it, he’s married!
Brad leapt to his feet in a standing ovation as Lucia moved to the centre of the stage and took her bows, revelling in the cheers and the spotlight. She was right where she belonged: an undeniable star, a true diva, in the traditional sense of the word. Gina couldn’t help but admire her – her pure, natural talent, and her evident ambition, which had propelled her to the top of her art. Gina felt safe up here, in the shadows of the box, out of reach of Lucia’s searching gaze.
‘She’s spectacular,’ Brad said, sounding awestruck, as red roses were thrown onto the stage. Lucia picked one up and posed with it, the beautiful flower nestling at her overflowing cleavage. Then she glanced around, as though she were looking for someone, and her feline eyes alighted on their box. Gina instinctively pulled back into the shadows, as Lucia blew kisses in their direction – whether aimed at Brad or Marco, Gina wasn’t sure. The heads of the audience began to swivel in their direction, following La Leonessa’s eyeline.
‘Time for me to go,’ Brad apologized, as the murmurs and pointing began, a ripple of excited chatter running through the theatre. He turned to leave the box, and Gina and Brad followed him.
‘Where are we going?’ Gina asked, as he turned away from the exit and towards an unobtrusive corridor that looked as though it was a dead end.
‘Backstage, of course,’ Brad grinned.
Gina’s stomach lurched. Backstage was the last place she wanted to go, but it was too late to make her excuses now. They walked briskly along the tight corridors; the portieres who looked after the security arrangements simply melted away when they saw Brad Redford.
‘Lucia! Brava! Stupenda! You were truly exquisite,’ Brad gushed, as he spotted La Leonessa amongst a crowd of admirers. She was on the way back to her dressing room, energy and genuine happiness radiating from her.
‘Well, Signor Redford,’ she breathed, batting her long eyelashes. ‘Did I impress you?’
‘You were … indescribable. There are no words to express how exquisite your performance was. Simply sublime.’
Lucia bowed her head, graciously accepting his compliments.
‘And you know what?’ Brad went on, smiling. ‘I think you’re right. No movie set in Venice is complete without La Leonessa.’
Lucia inhaled sharply, sheer excitement breaking through her haughty exterior. Gina understood that opera fame was a very different beast to Hollywood blockbuster fame and, for Lucia, the prospect of her face being seen on movie screens around the world was thrilling.
‘You mean …’ Lucia gasped.
‘Let’s talk tomorrow. I’ll have my people call your people,’ Brad winked, echoing Lucia’s phrase. ‘Guys, it’s been a blast, but I have a five a.m. call tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep. Catch you later, OK?’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Gina offered. ‘You can’t go by yourself, you’ll be mobbed.’
‘My bodyguard’s waiting at the back exit. You stay here and enjoy the rest of the evening,’ Brad grinned, raising his hand in a farewell gesture before turning to leave. Gina was surprised by his hasty exit and found herself wishing she’d gone with him, but now she’d missed her opportunity.
In Brad’s absence, Lucia turned her attention to Marco.
‘Signor DiMaggio, did you like what you saw?’ she asked, turning in a slow pirouette, inviting him to admire her.
‘You were a triumph,’ he smiled, though Gina noticed he kept the same polite but distant tone as he’d previously used with Lucia. Whether La Leonessa was aware of it or not, she didn’t appear to be taking no for an answer.
‘Marco – you don’t mind if I call you Marco, no? We are friends now. Tonight is my special night, and that means I get whatever I want. And I want you to take me for dinner.’
Marco laughed uncomfortably. ‘I’m sure there are far more exciting people to spend the evening with than me. Besides, I already have plans.’
Lucia narrowed her eyes, fury crossing her face. ‘Plans?’ she repeated, a look of disdain crossing her face.
‘Yes. With Gina.’
Lucia’s head whipped across, and she glared at Gina, as though seeing her properly for the first time. ‘I see.’ It was almost a snarl. Then Lucia’s voice became like honey once again. ‘It is a wonderful opportunity for us to get to know each other. Let me take you to my favourite trattoria,’ she offered enticingly.
‘I’m afraid not. Gina and I have urgent business to discuss; we’re on a tight schedule for filming.’
Lucia’s eyes were blazing as she looked from Marco to Gina, unable to believe that Marco had had the temerity to say no to her. Her lips clamped together in a tight line, and she seemed on the verge of an explosion, but then a young man carrying a large bouquet of flowers approached La Leonessa with an adoring look on his face. Lucia couldn’t resist the devoted follower, the source of her fury temporarily forgotten, and Marco leaned across to Gina.
‘Quick, let’s get out of here,’ he hissed. He grabbed Gina’s hand and pulled her along, the two of them rushing together past the security guards towards the exit, giggling and exhilarated.