Page 10

As we enter the dining carriage, all eyes follow Mrs Forster.

The way she moves, the fabric of her dress, the texture of her skin and her beautiful face all force people to look.

She oozes confidence and I want to hide, to not be the peacock despite the gown I’m wearing.

People will look at me too and this is the last thing I want.

There is nothing I can do in this moment except get through it.

To distract myself, I focus on her spine and think of the birthmark just out of sight.

This is madness. I’m here to step away from myself, to learn to be different, to find men attractive, to become normal like Nellie, to live a life that no one notices.

I study the faces – young, old, elegant and interesting. Without the borrowed plumage I wear, I would draw more attention than I do at the moment. Even dressed in her gown I’m no match for her, and I exist in her shadow, which is good. I relax a little.

The sound of voices chattering overrides the quiet clunking rhythm of the wheels moving across the tracks.

The crystal, silver and white linen are even beyond what I have known in my grandfather’s Kensington house.

So many shining objects, but my glance keeps returning to the woman in front of me.

She is mesmerising. As we approach, waiters step aside and the ma?tre d’ greets her by name.

She looks over her shoulder at me as we reach the table. ‘Unfortunately things have changed and we are now to sit with my husband and Signor Rossi.’ She forces a smile as she sits.

The ma?tre d’ holds out a chair for me as he has done for her. I copy her every move. This is an entirely new world for me, from the decor to the other dinner guests. It is like a film, and of course, there is a movie star on the train.

‘While you wait for the gentlemen, may I get you an aperitif?’ he asks.

‘A champagne cocktail for us both, please.’ Katherine beams at him.

My head is already awash with what we drank in the compartment. I don’t need more.

‘Well, let’s hope that Signor Rossi will be lively.’ She rests her hands on the table. ‘I had hoped it was just us and we could get to know one another.’

The cocktails arrive and Mrs Forster says, ‘Let’s make a toast to a new friendship.’

I raise my glass and meet her glance. She is more intoxicating than the drink and I’m certain I will never forget this evening, but a friendship between us I doubt.

People like me do not feature in the world she moves in.

We will have this time on the train and she will never think of me again.

With that thought something settles inside me, or maybe it’s just the contents of the cocktail.

‘Mrs Forster,’ I say.

She interrupts, ‘Katherine, please.’

I swallow. ‘Katherine . . .’

‘Here they are,’ she says, fixing her expression to a welcoming one that looks like a well-worn mask.

‘Katherine, I didn’t want to leave you unattended and the ma?tre d’ was able to work miracles.’ Mr Forster takes his wife’s hand and brings it to his lips. She flinches and shakes him off with a shiver.

‘Two beautiful women for company at dinner is perfection.’ Signor Rossi bows before taking a seat beside me.

Mr Forster engages immediately with the waiter. He speaks fluently in French and I’m only able to pick up a few words. Katherine leans forward, blocking her husband with her bare shoulder.

‘Simon tells me he is heading to Venice for the poetry exhibition.’ Signor Rossi pauses and adjusts his cuff. ‘I know of your husband’s excellent work and have been discussing possible translators and publishing.’

‘You’re a publisher?’ She takes a sip of her drink.

‘In a way.’ He waves his hands. ‘I know many people and I have been helping Il Duce prepare his brilliant poetry for publication.’

‘Yes, isn’t it wonderful,’ Mr Forster says as he turns back to the table. ‘Il Duce writes and loves poetry.’ He is flushed with enthusiasm.

Katherine gazes into her glass, her expression blank, then looks up with a smile. ‘This is truly marvellous, darling, and it bodes well for the poetry event in Venice.’

‘It does, doesn’t it. My work has been so well received in England and the United States, but not yet in Italy, the home of Dante.’ He draws a breath. ‘Now that would be something.’

‘I wish you were stopping in Milano, because in two days’ time I have a meeting with just the man to publish you,’ Signor Rossi says.

Mr Forster chews his bottom lip, acting more like a child than a grown man.

A waiter appears with a carafe of white wine, followed by another with delicate bowls of consommé.

It smells divine and I look down in panic at the massed cutlery, trying to remember the etiquette.

I watch Katherine take the outermost spoon and dip it in the clear liquid, pushing it away from her before lifting it to her mouth.

It all comes back to me and I relax a bit.

‘Katherine,’ Mr Forster says, holding his spoon mid-air. ‘Would it be a problem if we joined Signore Rossi in Milan and delayed our arrival in Venice?’

Katherine puts down her spoon and takes a sip of wine. ‘It might be for Mary. She is expecting us tomorrow evening, and you know how she is. She will have made plans.’

He is crestfallen, as if she has taken his toy away. But only an hour or so ago she was willing to delay their departure. Why has she had a change of heart?

She places her right hand on his. ‘What if I continue to Venice to placate her, and you could have your exciting meeting in Milan?’

‘Of course, that’s just what I was thinking. As always, you’ve read my mind.’ He waves to the waiter and orders champagne to celebrate.

The soup is cleared away and a toast is made to a successful outcome of the trip to Milan.

The gentlemen talk of accommodation there while Katherine and I stare out the window at the faded landscape in the twilight.

The world outside the train appears less real than the reflection candlelit drama within.

After the main course is cleared, Katherine says, ‘Darling, Miss Kernow is an artist, from St Ives in Cornwall.’

Mr Forster blinks for a moment, then looks at Signor Rossi and asks, ‘Will we meet Il Duce while in Milan?’

Signor Rossi smiles at Katherine and me. ‘The arts, all the arts are so important to Il Duce.’ He puts his glass down. ‘Miss Kernow, in what style do you paint?’

I open my mouth to reply, but Mr Forster says, ‘She is too young to have painted anything of merit. Returning to my question, will we be able to meet Il Duce?’

Signor Rossi sighs. ‘I am not certain. We might, but I do not wish to raise your expectations.’

‘I do believe he would appreciate my poetry.’ Forster waves to the waiter. ‘If only I had some translations of my work.’

Out of the corner of my eye I see Katherine roll her eyes. They are not two people I would put together, despite the endearments they use to speak to each other.

‘The great leader can speak English, but it would be best to first show the poems to him in Italian.’ Forster pauses while dessert is placed in front of us. ‘Il Duce admires the work of Pound.’

‘Dear Ezra,’ says Katherine with a half-smile.

Her husband frowns. ‘Katherine crossed paths with Pound in the early twenties,’ he explains.

‘He was so encouraging.’ Her face falls for just a moment.

‘Only because he wanted to seduce you.’

She laughs and finishes her wine, but I’m not sure how to react to this. Forster looks as if he’s about to say more regarding Pound. Instead, he gives his attention to the delicate mousse in front of him while Katherine takes only the smallest taste of hers.

‘I’d planned to find a translator for my work in Venice, but that will be too late.’

I stare at Forster. His arrogance is astounding.

Signor Rossi sends Katherine and me an apologetic glance. He seems to enjoy Mr Forster’s company, but he is aware of his rudeness as well.

‘If you have some of your poems with you, perhaps tomorrow we could work together on translating one or two.’

‘That is kind of you, Signor Rossi. We are so fortunate to have met you,’ Katherine says, placing her napkin on the table. ‘Gentlemen, if you will excuse us.’ She gives me an encouraging smile. ‘It’s been a long day.’

Both men stand.

‘Of course, my love, you need your beauty sleep.’ Forster pulls out her chair and places a kiss on her cheek.

Signor Rossi helps me with mine and I am touched. ‘Thank you for your kindness today, Miss Kernow.’ He bows quite formally.

I look for the waiter to pay for my meal. Rossi smiles at me. ‘I will settle the bill. It is the least I can do.’

I nod, not sure how to reply. I’ve been thrown into a world where I am completely out of my depth. Despite the fine gown I’m wearing, I’m a fraud simply passing for something I’m not.

The overt attention of the other diners confirms this.

Katherine moves with ease while I have to think about how to walk in this gown.

Each step is precarious. At the last table I spy Marlene Dietrich, and she studies us as we approach.

Her glance lingers on Katherine, and when she meets mine, I see that she knows.

I have not fooled her. A hint of a smile appears on her rouged lips.

She understands the act of being someone else.

It is a skill I must learn, like transferring the image I see in front of me into lines and colour on a page.