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‘No way!’ Calypso shrieked. ‘He hates me. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m Malibu Barbie. I’m surprised I haven’t been replaced yet.’
‘He’s got a crush on you, he likes you,’ Sapphira found herself singing softly in Calypso’s ear to try make her laugh.
Kelly laughed conspiratorially with the girls. ‘Yeah, I reckon he’s got a massive keeny,’ she said.
‘A keeny?’ asked Calypso. ‘Gross.’
‘A keeny, he’s keen on you. A crush,’ said Kelly.
‘No way. Anyway, I’ve got Marco,’ said Calypso defiantly.
‘Marco Schmarco,’ Sapphira said.
‘You gonna come and do a reading after?’ Kelly asked Calypso as she adjusted her hair.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ said Calypso.
‘What reading?’ asked Sapphira, feeling left out for the first time in her life.
‘Kel’s teaching me to read tarot,’ said Calypso.
‘When you gonna give me a reading?’ she asked lazily, as though not caring.
Calypso perked up. ‘Really? That’s so exciting! You want one from me? I mean, Kelly will be there to interpret as well ’cause I’m just learning,’ Calypso said, her words tumbling over each other. ‘Is that okay, Kel?’
Kelly smiled. ‘Of course.’ She watched Sapphira as she stood still, perfect but soulless somehow, as though a piece of her was missing. She would have loved to read her cards and this opportunity, although through the innocent Calypso, was too good to pass up. ‘Maybe later we can come to your trailer?’
‘Great, don’t forget your magic wand and broomstick,’ laughed Sapphira as the assistant director called places for shooting.
During the lunch break, Kelly and Calypso descended on Sapphira’s trailer with tarot cards in hand. Calypso took her role as tarot reader very seriously and was almost ceremonial about the cards, which were wrapped in a purple Pucci silk scarf.
‘Okay, so shuffle and think about what you want to ask and then pull cards till I ask you to stop,’ Calypso instructed intently.
‘You’re not serious about this, are you?’ laughed Sapphira as she shuffled the cards like a Vegas croupier.
‘We are,’ said Calypso, looking to Kelly for agreement.
Kelly laughed. ‘Ah, Little Grasshopper takes things very seriously.’
Calypso was looking at Sapphira’s hands flying over the cards. ‘Okay, so now you just spread them in a line and pull them out.’
Sapphira started to pull the cards as Calypso ordered them into a cross formation in front of her on the round table, Kelly helping her.
Calypso stared at the cards. ‘Okay,’ she started. ‘This formation here is the issues your life is centred around at the moment. Is that right, Kelly?’
‘Yep,’ said Kelly nodding encouragingly.
‘Justice and the Knave of Cups. This is the card of …’ Calypso took the book she had brought with her and started to leaf through the pages to get to the right section.
Kelly looked at the two cards. The cards of dependence, she thought. Sapphira seemed not to depend on anyone, she imagined.
Calypso found the right page. ‘You need to stop smoking, Sapphira,’ she said, looking with disgust at her cigarette smouldering in the ashtray. ‘Justice is the card of dependence. Whatever you are doing to your body is bad. This card is about coming out of a bad place and trying to find balance in your life, health, mind, body, spirit. I’ve got some books I could recommend,’ she said earnestly.
Sapphira defiantly picked up the cigarette and took a long drag. ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ she said good-naturedly.
‘The card which covers it is the Knave of Cups. Maybe you are thinking about a baby? Maybe you want to be pregnant?’ asked Calypso, confused. Sapphira appeared to be the least nurturing person she knew. Not mean, but not at all motherly.
Calypso looked to Kelly for guidance. Kelly looked at Sapphira. ‘The Knave of Cups is a child, a child of psychic means. Perhaps in the spirit world.’ Kelly looked at Sapphira’s face for any sign of recognition. It remained impassive but Kelly saw the tiniest twitch of her left eye.
Calypso spoke quickly, thinking she was off the track. ‘Anyway, this next card is the card of unconscious – the Knave of Swords.’
Sapphira sat, her eyes smiling at Calypso’s absolute conviction.
‘The card of unconscious suggests you’re playing tricks with yourself. Using your sword unwisely. You fly planes, don’t you? You should be careful,’ she said, her voice filled with concern.
Kelly looked at the card – the Knave of Swords was about safety. Sapphira lived as though she was a cat with nine lives; that was something everybody knew, but Kelly intuitively knew it was more than just planes. She wondered what Sapphira was playing with which threatened her safety.
Still Sapphira said nothing, so Calypso continued. ‘The past card is the death card – someone has died who had a huge impact on you. This could be one of your parents, perhaps?’ She looked to Sapphira for affirmation but Sapphira was smoking another cigarette and shrugged.
Kelly spoke up. ‘The death card does not mean that it’s bad, though. This card suggests the person who died has travelled and has transformed. Reincarnated, if you like. When this person died, something else changed in your life. I don’t know what that is, only you do, but it influences everything you do now, good and bad.’
Calypso looked at Kelly and then at Sapphira. ‘How is she? Crazy, huh? She’s so wise!’
Kelly laughed out loud. ‘Easy there, grasshopper, don’t worship me. I’m as human as the next person.’
Calypso looked at the next card and opened her book again to the correct page. ‘This is the card of the future. The Ace of Cups. A baby perhaps!’
She seemed relieved finally to have something good and tangible for Sapphira’s future.
Kelly looked at Sapphira’s face, which appeared as though a shadow had crossed it.
Calypso looked at Sapphira excitedly. ‘Perhaps you’ll find a new lover.’ Calypso was unsure whether Sapphira was straight so thought it best to remain gender neutral.
‘Perhaps,’ said Sapphira noncommittally.
Calypso continued, slightly self-important in her role as esoteric messenger. ‘The card of work is the Eight of Cups, which indicates a break from work for a while. Yes, Kelly?’
Kelly nodded.
‘Perhaps you’ll take a break after this film?’ offered Calypso.
Sapphira shrugged again, thinking of the projects slated for her for the next two years. ‘Maybe.’
Calypso thought she was boring Sapphira, so hurried through the rest of the cards. ‘The card of home and family is the Seven of Swords. This card indicates deception and betrayal from an unreliable person in your life. Someone with a careful plan.’ Calypso rushed over this card, not sure what it meant, but Kelly looked at it with interest. Whatever Sapphira was about to face she needed some damned good protection.
‘The card of how you expect things to turn out is the Hanged Man – this is seeing things from a new perspective. Clearer and changing your mind.’
Kelly interrupted. ‘It’s also about dreams, dreams of the future which indicate you will be released from what keeps you in suspended time.’
Sapphira sat still, saying nothing.
Calypso looked at the last card. ‘This is the card of how things will actually work out. The Queen of Coins. This is you. This is the card of the mother, someone who is generous to others. It also tells of charity and aid to those who cannot help themselves. Using your energy for the greater good.’
Sapphira butted out the cigarette.
‘Did it make sense? The reading?’ Calypso asked, her eyes wide.
Sapphira looked as though she was about to speak but stopped herself. Finally she smiled. ‘Spot on.’
Calypso breathed a sigh of relief. Sapphira seemed unimpressed but Kelly pondered the cards. Whatever was in Sapphira’s past, present and future was murky and painful and made her feel uneasy. Calypso was called to the set for a close-up and Kelly and Sapphira sat in the trailer.
‘Is there anything you need to talk to me about, Sapphira? I know we’re not close but I worry about you sometimes,’ said Kelly, kindness radiating out of her.
Sapphira sat debating whether to share her secrets with Kelly and then quickly put her mask back up. ‘I’m not sure I get the tarot, no disrespect meant,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Nah, that’s fine,’ said Kelly, getting the message that Sapphira was as guarded as she ever was.
‘Just know I’m always around, here or in America, if you need me,’ said Kelly getting to her feet.
Sapphira grabbed her arm lightly as Kelly went to walk past her and out of the trailer. ‘The card about deception …’
‘The Seven of Swords.’
‘Yes, that one. What does it mean exactly?’
Kelly spoke slowly. She knew there was something Sapphira was hiding but she wasn’t sure what it was; it was up to Sapphira to explore and confront what the card meant. ‘It’s a fear card. It can mean there is something you fear, someone or something.’
Kelly placed her hands on Sapphira’s thin shoulders. The energy from Kelly’s body resonated through Sapphira and she felt herself involuntarily shudder.
‘Good to know,’ she said laughing as Kelly walked to the trailer door.
‘Be safe, okay?’ Kelly said as she left the trailer.
Sapphira nodded and smiled. She was trying, God knows she was trying.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Hey Slapper, you want to come over and play?’ asked Rose down the phone.
‘Who is this?’ asked Kelly.
‘Haha, funny,’ said Rose. ‘Really, entertain me, let’s go out.’
‘I can’t, I feel so sick,’ said Kelly. ‘In bed, sorry, and then I have to shoot the night scenes with Calypso tonight,’ she moaned.
‘You’re a shit friend,’ said Rose.
‘I know. I aim to disappoint.’
‘You’re succeeding,’ said Rose sulkily.
‘Go out and do something, you loser,’ said Kelly.
‘I know. I will, later,’ lied Rose as she hung up.
Opening the refrigerator, she picked at the leftover spiced apple and cream but it didn’t make her feel better. Instead, she felt restless. Slumping into a kitchen chair, she decided to ‘take charge’, as her therapist said, and head into town to see what entertainment could be found there. Pulling the Frommers Guidebook to Italy from her handbag, put there by Lauren and which had remained unopened so far, she looked up Perugia. Leafing through, she spotted the Galleria Nazionale, the home of the finest collection of Umbrian art in the world. Why not, she thought and rang her driver and asked him to be ready for her in 30 minutes.
Climbing upstairs, she had a shower and dressed in a black linen Phillip Lim sundress and a pair of black and white Chanel ballet flats. Pulling her hair back into a low bun, she applied tinted moisturizer with SPF 20 and sun block on her arms and legs. Running downstairs, she threw on her Fendi sunglasses and her panama hat, grabbed her green Lavin tote bag and jumped in her car.
Driving through the countryside, Rose was enthralled by the timeless quality to the houses, olive groves and vineyards. She waved at an elderly man pushing a wheelbarrow down the road. He tipped his cloth cap at her as she sailed past in the Mercedes.
Pulling up the Corso Vanucci, the car stopped and the driver told Rose she would have to walk the rest of the way on foot, as there were no cars allowed on the old roads and pathways. Entering the Galleria, Rose was soothed by the quietness and the coolness of the building. Taking a map from a sleepy guard, who did not seem to recognize her, she stood and decided what route to take.
As she stood assessing the map, she heard voices in the quiet space and looked up to see a man with three little boys trailing after him. Rose smiled as she watched the smallest one with a blue drink bottle in his hand stop and touch a marble statue in the entranceway. She watched his small hands feeling the cold stone as she looked up at the statue of a woman on her knees. The boy’s father and brothers walked away but the small boy stayed at the side of the statue. Rose walked over to him.
‘Do you like the feel of the marble?’ she asked him in a gentle voice.
‘It’s cold,’ said the boy, looking at her, and Rose felt her heart open at the sight of his little face, so earnest and trusting.
‘Yes,’ said Rose, reaching out to touch the woman.
‘Why is she so sad?’ asked the boy.
Rose read the description of the statue. ‘Assetata,’ she said aloud. ‘She’s thirsty,’ she explained.
‘She needs a drink,’ said the boy, looking at the drink bottle in his hand.
‘She does,’ said Rose gravely.
‘Milo, hurry up.’ Rose turned to see the boy’s father in the distance of the gallery standing impatiently.
Milo ran towards his father and Rose watched him run, carefully hanging onto his drink. Rose walked in the other direction of the family, wondering where the mother was. Hopefully getting some much needed rest from the challenge of three boys and a grumpy father, she laughed to herself as she wandered the rooms.
In Room Three, the earliest paintings and artifacts were housed, showing the start of 13th century Perugian art. Wandering through the rooms, drinking in the history and creativity was Rose’s idea of heaven. Her knowledge of European art was extensive, but not Italian art and certainly not as far back as the 13th century.
Facing Duccio di Buoninsegna’s depiction of the Madonna and Child, with the six tiny angels watching them from above, Rose wondered if she would ever have a child of her own. She was aware time was running out for her on the fertility front. It didn’t matter what medicine did to stop the aging process, the plain fact was that if you wanted to get pregnant naturally then you had to do it when you were young. Facing her fortieth birthday in six months, Rose was keenly aware of her biological clock ticking like a time bomb inside her.
As she turned to walk into the next room, she heard the sound of running feet. Milo ran into the room, his little round face streaming with tears. As he ran towards her, he tripped on his shoelace and went sprawling in front of Rose onto his face, landing at her feet.
‘Oh dear, what a big fall! Come on, let’s get up.’
The child was sobbing quietly, a sound Rose recognized from her niece and nephew, one that a child makes when they have really hurt themselves.
‘Ups a daisy. Come on now.’ Rose sat on the wooden bench in the centre of the room and lifted the child onto her lap. ‘Come on, let’s have a look at you then.’
Assessing the child, she saw he had blood coming out of his mouth. Opening his mouth gently she saw he had bitten his tongue but no teeth seemed to be damaged. Rose waited for his parents to arrive, assuming they would be chasing after him, but the room stayed silent. The child nestled his head into her neck and she heard his breathing slow down and his sobs quietly ease away.
‘There you are, getting better? I have just the pill to make you tip-top in no time,’ she said, remembering the packet of barley sugar she had in her bag that she had brought to suck on when her plane took off. Taking out a piece she unwrapped it. ‘Open wide,’ she said and the child obediently did so.
