A Week in Winter(51)

‘Very,’ he said, without elaborating on the life he was used to.

‘I suppose you couldn’t sit and have a cup of coffee in a place like this out where you live . . .’

He looked at her sharply. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked eventually.

‘John, of course we know that you are Corry Salinas. We knew the moment we saw you, Chicky and I.’

‘But you didn’t say.’ He was stunned.

‘You came here as John. You wanted to be a private person. Why should we say anything?’

‘And the others, the guests? Do they know?’

‘Yes. The Swedish guy copped you the first night, and the English couple, Henry and Nicola, asked Chicky discreetly if you were here incognito.’

‘It’s true what I said. I was on my way to a business meeting in Germany, and I did come here on the spur of the moment.’

‘Sure. And call yourself whatever you want to, John, it’s your life, your holiday.’

‘But if everyone knows . . .?’ he said doubtfully.

‘Honestly, they’ll respect your wanting to be an ordinary person. They’re mainly concentrating on their own lives anyway.’

‘It would make life easier, certainly, if they know already. It’s just that I was hoping to leave that world behind, at least for a while, just spend some time without all that baggage.’

‘It must be desperate having to explain everything and be asked if you know Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt.’

‘It’s not that so much as they have such high expectations of me. They think I actually am the guys I play in the movies. I always feel I disappoint them.’

‘Oh, I doubt that. Everyone here thinks you’re full of charm. Me too. I’ve sort of gone off men myself personally, but you’d put a spark back into the eye.’

‘You mock me. I’m an old, old man,’ he laughed.

‘Oh, I do not mock you, believe me. But I suppose I wish you got more fun out of it: being world famous, successful, everyone loving you. If I had done all you’ve done, I’d be delighted with myself and go round beaming at everyone.’

‘It’s only role-playing,’ he said. ‘That’s my day job. I don’t want to have to do it in real life as well.’

Orla considered this seriously. ‘But you can be yourself with family, can’t you?’ she asked.

‘I don’t have any family, apart from one daughter. I called her in California the other night.’

‘Did you tell her about Stone House? Will she come and bring her family here one day?’

‘She doesn’t have a family. She’s a teacher.’

‘I’m sure she’s very proud of you. Do you go to her school and talk to the kids?’

‘No. Lord, no. I’d never do that.’

‘Wouldn’t they love to meet a film star?’ Orla said, surprised.

‘Oh, Maria Rosa wouldn’t want that,’ he said.

‘I bet she would. Did you ask her?’

‘No. I don’t want to push myself and my kind of life on her.’

‘Lord, aren’t you the most marvellous father. Why didn’t I get parents like you?’

Corry was back in listening mode, where he was always at ease.

‘Are they difficult?’ he asked, full of sympathy.

‘Well yes, to be honest. They want me to be different, I suppose. They think it’s a bit fast to have my own place to live. They think I’m wasting myself washing dishes for Chicky – that’s how they put it. They want me to marry one of the God-awful O’Haras and have a big vulgar house with pillars in front of it and three bathrooms.’

‘Is that what they say?’

‘They don’t need to say it, it’s there in the air like a great mushroom cloud.’

‘Maybe they just wish the best for you and don’t know how to put it.’

‘Oh no, my mother always knows how to put it, usually in four different ways all saying the same thing – which is that I am wasting my life.’

‘And leaving what you call the God-awful O’Haras aside, do you have anybody you do like?’ He was gentle, not intrusive; interested.

‘No. As I told you, I’ve sort of closed down a bit on men.’

‘That’s a pity. Some of them are very good people.’ He had a wonderful smile, slightly ironic, full of conspiratorial fun.

‘I don’t want to take the risk. I’m sure you know that yourself.’

‘I do know. I’ve been married twice and involved with a lot more women. I don’t really understand them but I didn’t ever give up on them!’

‘It’s different for you, John, you have the whole world to choose from.’

‘You look to me like a girl who would have a fairly wide choice, Orla.’

‘No. I can’t get my head around it. At best it’s a kind of compromise. At worst it’s a nightmare.’

‘Were you never in love?’

‘Truthfully, no. Were you?’

‘With Monica, my first wife, yes, I am sure I was. Maybe it was because we were young and it was all so new and exciting and we had Maria Rosa. But I think it was love . . .’

‘Then you had more than I had.’