Her Aunt Julia's
invitation to spend a few days at her luxurious villa near Florence was
difficult to resist. Not only was London cold and damp but cold and damp seemed
to describe her acting career. Josephine
had suffered yet another "we'll let you know" at her last audition
and, it seemed she'd never get her chance to shine.
When a freak
accident forces the 25-year old to impersonate her very rich aunt – a woman well
into her 50s who was addicted to plastic surgery and was about to marry a much
younger man to boot – she sees it as yet another role to play, albeit not the
one she could add to her acting resume. Still,
she does her best, assuming the pampered life of her socialite aunt, a woman
obsessed with her looks and preserving her fleeting youth. After all, it was
only for a day or two until her fiancé could arrange matters and divert
suspicion. However, it soon becomes obvious that Josephine’s impersonation will
have to be a lot deeper – and much longer – than she thought possible.
You can order the e-book from Amazon and from Smashwords. Please leave a review if you like it and don't hesitate to contact me directly or leave a comment below.
Special thanks go to Robyn Hoode for all the editing and encouragement.
Special thanks go to Robyn Hoode for all the editing and encouragement.
Act Your Age: Becoming Her Aunt
by Camille Langtry
Chapter 1
“We’ll give you a call, Miss Raymond,’’ said the 40-something woman in a grey sweater. She removed her black-rimmed glasses and closed the folder in front of her, indicating that the audition was over and Miss Raymond should better move along to give way to other aspiring applicants waiting in the corridor. A bored-looking older man sitting next to her - the casting director - said nothing and just nodded his head.
“It’s RaymOnd, it’s French originally,’’ replied the young woman and rose from the chair in the middle of the room.
“Right,’’ replied the older woman and replaced her glasses, slightly irritated by the unwanted correction and looked in the folder again. “Josephine RaymOnd. Thank you for your time. Please don’t forget to leave the script on the table by the door. Next!”
The next applicant - a tall skinny girl of about 30 looking like a typical hipster in her ultra-tight jeans and with plastic framed glasses on her pert nose - was already standing in the doorway. She stepped aside to give way to the departing Josephine before entering the room and closing the door behind her.
"We’ll give you a call". How many times had she heard these very words or their equivalents in the past two years? "We’ll be in touch". "We’ll let you know". "We’ll drop you a line". All were euphemisms for "you are not good enough" anyway, weren’t they? Yes, it would hurt hearing the latter in these very words, but waiting in vain for a phone call or an e-mail was hardly pleasant either. She was already 25, but her acting portfolio was nothing to write home about and filled but half a page on her resume even with double spacing and a size 16 font. A couple of commercials. A small role in a police TV series that was cancelled after the first season due to poor ratings. Occasional odd roles in London’s West End musicals helped to pay the rent, but just barely.
She kept reminding herself that if she was persistent enough and kept trying she’d get her big break one of these days, but this rollercoaster of initial hope and inevitable despair was eating her from the inside out. This was her third audition this week and she was almost certain she wouldn’t get that role. Miracles do happen, of course, but dozens of rejected attempts in the past month taught her to set the expectation bar low, very low. This time the audition was for a Victorian-era detective television film about disputed inheritance or some such - hardly a breakthrough role anyway. Still, it would have been good to boost her extra thin resume and help her meet more people in the industry.
As if on cue it began raining the moment she stepped out of the building. It was only a few blocks to the Tube, but before she could reach the entrance her shoes and coat were soaking wet, adding physical discomfort to her mental turmoil. It was only early October, but it felt more like late November. Chilly and wet. Welcome to London! She could definitely use some sun, if only she could afford it.
Then it clicked. It was October 6th. Aunt Julia’s birthday. They’d been out of touch for a couple of years after she moved to Tuscany to spend her millions from the sprawling villa near Livorno, but they used to be very close as Josephine was growing up. Now it was reduced to a phone call every couple of months or so and occasional “hi, how are you” emails. She followed her on Facebook but didn't pay much attention to what she was up to these days.
Aunt Julia was her late father’s younger sister. An incredible beauty in her youth, she worked as a model for a few years before marrying an Italian aristocrat who was much older than her. She inherited some exorbitant amount from him - he'd been dead for at least a decade now and Josephine only met him a couple of times when she was little - and had been living a rich socialite's life of leisure ever since, travelling between London, New York, Paris and Milan, attending fashion shows, gala luncheons, and movie premiers and spending her wealth like there was no tomorrow.
Aunt Julia had been kind and generous enough to pay for her only niece’s education, allowing her to attend one of the best drama schools in London, but recently they’d grown distant as Josephine tried - unsuccessfully so far - to build a name for herself without her aunt’s money and connections. Julia was too preoccupied with her rich and pampered lifestyle across the continents to pay much attention to her niece’s professional and financial struggles. Still, they exchanged phone calls and Julia liked to impress her niece with expensive birthday gifts that Josephine could never afford.
"How old was she turning?", Josephine asked herself. Dad would have been 60 last year and she was five or six years younger, perhaps seven. She couldn’t quite recall. In any case, that was not the question to ask a woman, especially one who was as self-conscious about her looks as Aunt Julia. Whatever she lacked growing up in her lower-middle class surroundings in the 1960s and the 1970s she was now compensating for with a vengeance. She was always well-dressed, well-coiffed and well-groomed. She was surrounded by beautiful things and beautiful people and, unlike so many trophy wives-turned-rich widows, was, to a large degree, the epitome of style and good manners. At least she was when they last met.
It was already 10 pm when Josephine got home and dialled in Aunt Julia on Skype. No one answered for almost a minute and then the face of a dark-haired, fashionably unshaven man of about 35 appeared on the screen.
“You need to talk to Giulia?” he asked in a heavy Italian accent that really went well with his dark, Latin lover complexion.
“Yes, please. Tell her it’s Josephine.’’
“One minute please,” he answered loudly over the background party noise.
The man moved from the laptop screen and Josephine could briefly see part of a large room filled with fashionably-attired people, engaged in animated conversations as live soft jazz was filling the air. A few moments later Julia, dressed in a very low-cut silver sparkling dress with short sleeves, her full blonde hair gathered impeccably in an elaborate chignon, sat by the monitor. Using a video screen as her mirror, she straightened her hairdo and looked to the sides to make sure her makeup - very overdone, Josephine couldn't help but notice - was flawless before turning her attention to Josephine.
“Look who’s here! Long time no see,’’ she said excitedly, sounding a bit like a giddy teenage girl and not as a mature woman old enough to be Josephine’s mother. There was something slightly different about her face - was it her makeup or poor lighting? Or was she experimenting with plastic surgery? Her nose certainly looked smaller and perter. Her lips looked much fuller and puffier that Josephine remembered, but it may have been the effect of the excessively applied lip gloss. In either case, Julia looked very good. Incredibly sexy and sophisticated. Especially so for a woman her age.
“Happy birthday, Aunt Julia! I am wishing you all the best…” Josephine began her well-rehearsed congratulatory speech only to be interrupted mid-sentence.
“Oh, don’t remind me,’’ Julia responded coquettishly, touching a sparkling diamond earring with her index finger, and pouting her full red lips like an upset teenage girl. “And don’t call me aunt, I've told you often enough. It’s just Julia. Call me aunt one more time and I’ll start calling you Joey again, I remember how much you loved it as a kid!”
“Of course, Julia. Please, anything but Joey,” Josephine replied with a smile.
“So, how is sunny London? How’s your acting? I saw that thing you were in. What was it? The Defence? The Defender?” she began bombarding her niece with questions, without a pause to give Josephine even a chance to respond.
“The Line of Defence,’’ Josephine managed to interject to correct Julia. It was the cancelled police show she was in. And her biggest television role to-date.
“Yes, you were pretty good there. I wish they would have given you a more prominent role. You were just standing there most of the time, letting others do the talking. I guess that's how it is with women doing police work anyway,’’ she commented matter-of-factly, probably oblivious to the fact that her words were stinging Josephine’s professional pride. “Well, I am sure there'll be a much more interesting role ahead of you. You are so talented, I am proud of you.”
“Thank you, Julia,” Josephine responded.
“You really should come visit me here. You are family after all. I haven’t seen you in ages. I’ll introduce you to Alfredo,’’ Julia continued.
“Alfredo?” Josephine asked. It must have been the Latin lover type who answered her Skype call. She had long lost track of her aunt’s many romantic interests, who were becoming progressively younger and better looking as she was becoming more and more mature. As a credit to her good sense, she never remarried, wanting to maintain her financial and legal freedom to do whatever she wanted with her deceased husband’s fortune even though there was apparently no shortage of suitors seeking her hand ... and probably her money.
“Oh, I don’t think I told you yet. Ta-da!” she waved her left hand with an oversized diamond engagement ring in front of the camera.
“Congratulations!” was Josephine’s surprised reply.
“I never suspected I’d be entering these waters again, but here I am. Engaged to the most beautiful and caring man. I am sure you’ll love him. Everybody does,’’ she continued excitedly. “So, come this weekend. I’ll pay for the trip. It looks like you need some rest. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Thank you, Julia. I’d be happy to!” Josephine replied just as Julia turned away from the screen for a few seconds, talking to someone.
“Sorry, gotta run. You can’t leave your guests unattended for long, can you? See you soon!” Julia turned to the monitor again and waved her well-manicured hand with long pink nails in front of the camera again.
"Bye, see you soon."
Josephine closed her laptop and leaned against the chair. She could certainly escape London for a few days, if only to enjoy sunny autumn in Tuscany. There was really not that much holding her in the big city. And if there was an interesting audition or someone unexpectedly had a job offer she was only a couple of hours away by plane. With aunt Julia paying, it was stupid to turn such a tempting offer down.
Josephine booked a ticket to Florence for the following afternoon. With the trip only being for a few days, she packed light - jeans, a couple of blouses and t-shirts and a light sweater for chilly evenings. She’d been to Julia’s estate before, but that was still in her student days, four or five years ago. Julia's late spouse’s family had owned the place for centuries and it was stocked to the brim with Cefallini family memorabilia - old paintings, marble statues, antique furniture and other heirlooms collected over the generations. The light brown-coloured villa sat on top of a picturesque hill which offered glorious views of the valley and the sea shore just a few kilometres away - a vista straight from a classic Renaissance painting.
All this natural and human-made beauty - as well as a hefty sum across several bank accounts in Italy and Switzerland - was passed on to Julia when her husband died childless - much to his distant relatives’ anger and embarrassment. As far as they were concerned, she was just a trophy wife, an English girl of questionable upbringing who couldn’t even speak Italian and whose only real assets were good looks.
Still, Julia settled into the life of a rich and pampered widow and seemed to enjoy it greatly. She was still very good looking and could turn heads of men half her age, even as unmistakable signs of aging were showing here and there. It was nothing drastic - yet - but enough to leave her concerned and aware of things to come just a few years ahead. Of course, she never discussed any of it with her young and pretty niece - for her she was always cheery with not a worry in the world - but the experiments with her face, as she attempted to thwart the ravages of time, were all too evident. Not that there was anything wrong or excessive about it - after all, with her money, she could afford the best and the most expensive treatments but never the less...
As Josephine made her way to the villa from the airport she marvelled at the natural beauty surrounding her. Omnipresent evergreen cypress trees dotted the hilly, picture-perfect landscape. This was the life! What a contrast to grey, wet and noisy London. No wonder Julia chose to spend most of her time here. She couldn’t help but feel jealous. While some - most - had to work for a living, for others a ticket to success was finding a rich husband and either divorcing him, taking half of his fortune, or outliving him and keeping all of it. As a contemporary girl, she could not find such behaviour appealing in the least, but a dark thought that she would most likely never be able to afford the lifestyle that Julia was living - unless she became a big Hollywood star, a distant prospect even by the most optimistic expectations - was hurting her pride.
The taxi turned to a gravel road and, after climbing another hill, she could finally see the villa - a large, two-storey building built in a classical, immediately-recognizable Tuscany style. Aunt Julia, dressed in a light blue, knee-length dress with a white collar was standing on the porch and waving her hand.
Chapter 2
Before Josephine could even take her leather sports bag from the taxi’s trunk, Julia walked to her niece, making small, mincing steps on the gravel with her impossibly high stiletto heels, and gave her a strong hug. She smelled of expensive, liberally-applied perfume and Josephine confirmed that the monitor's camera was not lying: Julia's lips, covered by a thick layer of fire-engine red lipstick, were much fuller, giving her a permanent pout of the type that many an ageing starlet and society diva possessed. Julia clearly had had something done to them.
It wasn't just the lips though. There was another prominent feature of the new Julia that the video camera did not quite catch during the conversation with Josephine: her breasts. There was no question that they were surgically enhanced - at least for someone who remembered the old Julia. They did not look unnatural - the boob job was obviously done by a top professional - but were in sharp contrast to Julia's original, much smaller ones - not unlike Josephine's own: flat chests really ran in the family. She could not believe her eyes - her proud aunt Julia, who always seemed so stylish and confident in her looks, had succumbed to the illness so common among the type of women she always found abhorrent - those using their sexy bodies to get ahead. But aunt Julia wasn't like that, was she?
“Welcome… muwah… Look at you… muwah,’’ Julia said between kisses and gave Josephine another hug, pressing her new massive breasts into her niece. “Jerome, can you help with that bag?”
A sturdy, impeccably shaven man in his late forties, dressed in the livery of a servant straight from a TV production about the rich and the famous, appeared out of nowhere, bowed, silently grabbed the bag and disappeared inside the villa before Josephine could even utter a word.
“Come inside, it’s getting chilly,’’ Julia said and affectedly shrugged her shoulders. “Is that all you've got? Just this tiny little bag?"
"Yes, it's only for a couple of days," Josephine responded. "I didn't feel like bringing my entire wardrobe."
"Ah, you've always been that sweatshirt and pajama pants kinda girl. This it so sad. I should definitely take you shopping while you are here. And don't you dare say no. You'll look like a princess, you are so pretty. Why are you hiding it?" Julia continued chattering as the two entered the building.
Josephine just smiled in response. Indeed, their clothing styles could not have been more different. With Julia it had always been all show - designer gowns and suits, expensive bags, sparkling jewelery, impractical but oh so pretty shoes. As for Josephine, it was mostly jeans, almost no makeup, comfy shoes and natural hair.
"You should really let your hair grow out, it's beautiful. Why do you keep it so short?" Julia continued to lecture Josephine and playfully touched her niece's thick mane that barely reached her shoulders.
"Alfredo is in Pisa on business, he’ll be home in a couple of hours. Enough time for us to chat and gossip, like in the good old times, right? Your room is on the first floor, Jerome took your bag there,” Julia said and pointed her well-manicured hand at the ceiling.
The place looked exactly like Josephine remembered from her previous visits. It was tastefully decorated and, unlike so many old Tuscany houses bought by rich Europeans and Americans in the past decades, survived the prevalent love for glass, plastic and ultra-modern home appliances virtually intact. It still largely looked the way it had in the 1950s if not before - with massive antique furniture, creaky parquet and thick wooden window frames with elaborate, unique brass handles.
Josephine went up to her room. It was spacious and overlooked the scenic valley below. Small bags of lavender scattered around filled the room with a pleasant smell of cleanliness and eternal spring. The smell of Tuscany.
She quickly changed into a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans and descended the stairs into a large living room. Julia was sitting on a sofa and skimming a thick glossy magazine. She lifted her eyes from the page and smiled.
“Here you are, come sit with me,’’ she said and hit the spot on the sofa next to her. Julia examined Josephine’s jeans, shirt and sneakers disapprovingly and repeated her threat from earlier: “Is that all the clothing you brought? You never were the dressy kind, were you? We are soooo taking you shopping here! This college look of yours may be fine with your London friends, but not in bella Italia!”
Dressed in a blue, short-sleeved silk dress that barely touched her knees, Julia, in contrast to her niece, channelled class and sophistication. Her blonde hair was gathered up, showing her long neck which displayed a pearl necklace and a matching set of earrings perfectly. She wore nude pumps with pin-needle, impossibly thin high heels. Josephine could not help but ask herself if she had dressed like this just to greet her or was it her regular daily style as befitting a lady of leisure and substantial means. She couldn't imagine herself being dressed so femininely - that wasn't her style at all - but even on Julia, especially given her recent enhancements, it seemed just a bit excessive, as if she was trying too hard to impress someone or, even more likely, to turn back time.
Still, even with all the unmistakable signs of plastic surgery, she looked wonderful, especially for a woman of her age. Josephine had seen women two decades younger that looked far worse. If there was one possible giveaway of Julia’s real age it was her excessive make-up. She didn’t remember her overdoing it before, but now it looked as if she’d spent a full hour applying blusher, eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. Did she also do something to her nose? It seems smaller and more upturned than Josephine remembered, but she wasn’t absolutely sure. And then there were her new lips. No longer thin and narrow, they were full and unnaturally thick and wide, giving Julia that look of being constantly surprised or unhappy about something.
“So, how do you find me?” she said coquettishly, her fingers playing with one of the pearls in her necklace. "You keep staring at my lips. You like them?"
“You look wonderful, Julia,’’ Josephine responded, stopping at the last moment from calling her “aunt”. "It's not like you needed anything, it was perfect before..."
"Ah, no it wasn't, don't say that," Julia dismissed her niece's transparent attempt at flattery with a wave of her right hand. "Don’t tell him I told you, but Alfredo is a true magician. He is. Of all the surgeons I’ve been to, he’s the best by far.’’
“So, he’s a doctor than?” Josephine inquired.
“A plastic surgeon. One of the best in Italy. That’s how I met him. He’s done wonders I didn’t think were even possible for me,’’ Julia responded and turned her beautiful made-up face to the sides, as if exhibiting Alfredo’s amazing handiwork for everyone to see. “Anyway, how have you been doing?”
“It’s been great, thank you,’’ Josephine responded, but before she could expand on the greatness of her non-existent achievements, they heard the sound of a car stopping by the entrance. A minute later a well-tanned, athletically-built young man, dressed in a dark blazer with two rows of golden buttons and white pants, entered the room, holding a large leather folder in his hand. It was the man who had answered Josephine’s Skype call earlier. With long curly hair, that almost reached his shoulders, and the dark, Mediterranean complexion of an ancient Roman god, he emanated self-assurance and not a small amount of self-admiration.
“Alfredo!” Julia screamed excitedly, minced toward her fiancé with an exaggerated sexy sway and gave him a long, hard kiss as his arm hugged her lower back possessively. She lifted her leg, exposing the top of her stockings with attached metal suspender clips just for a second.
“Meet Josephine, she’s my niece I told you so much about,’’ she said as their lips parted. “She's the only family I have. She’s come to visit us for the weekend.”
“Very nice to meet you,’’ the young Apollo said in grammatically correct, but heavily accented English, and extended his tanned hand to Josephine. “Julia told me so much about you. You are an actress in London, are you not?”
“I am,’’ Josephine responded, all of a sudden feeling awkward as if she did not really belong there. The fact that Alfredo was clearly an alpha male - just the narcissistic type that Josephine always found ridiculous - did not help things. They clearly did not have a lot in common.
Alfredo nodded, showing little interest in Josephine’s acting career, and turned his attention to Julia again.
“Let me take a look, honey, “Alfredo lifted Julia’s chin and slowly turned her face to the left and then to the right, inspecting her lips. “I think the swelling is almost gone already. Give it a couple of days. What do you think? Do you like it?”
“Oh yes, I love it. It still feels alien to me, but I am sure I’d get used to it. It looks amazing, the best birthday gift, thank you,’’ she responded in a cheery voice and leaned to him, putting her hand with long, shiny pink nails on his wide chest.
Josephine forced a smile, but felt very uncomfortable again, not least because of Julia’s ostentatious “woman in love” act. She was certain she was not acting and was really deeply in love with this guy, but somehow that made things even worse. She had always considered Julia a smart, strong and confident woman, who knew her worth and would never fall for a dark-haired gigolo twenty years her junior. Even if he was Italy's top plastic surgeon or whatever.
Yes, she’d been known to date younger men - not that there was anything particularly wrong with that - but was she really going to marry her plastic surgeon? That was like something out of a tabloid or a bad movie. It was so stereotypical it was hard to believe it could happen in real life to someone she always took for an independent woman. A bored, rich, and aging woman falls for a handsome man, young enough to be her son. A fitness instructor. Or a good-looking military officer, a widower with dark memories. Something like this belonged in cheap romance novels. Josephine was struck by the banality of it all.
Still, looking at Julia’s excited face, she could not deny that her aunt looked genuinely happy. It was her life, after all. And it was none of her business who she was sleeping with and who she was dating or was planning to marry, Josephine reminded herself. At least the guy in question has a well-paying profession so he can’t be motivated by her money alone. Or can he? Josephine tried to push this thought away. She was only a guest here and it was Julia’s life, not hers.
“You know, Josephine, you look so much like Julia. Not even like a niece, you look like her younger sister or a daughter, there is a very strong similarity,’’ Alfredo noted after they sat down in the living room for a glass of wine.
“My father looked almost like Julia’s twin and I look a lot like my father,’’ Josephine noted. There was indeed a very strong family resemblance - the contour of the face, the eyes and the eyebrow shape, the cheekbones - even after Julia’s plastic surgeries.
“Oh yes, we were several years apart, but looked like twins. If I show you some old photos, you won’t be able to tell a difference. One minute,’’ Julia rose from the sofa, straightened the hem of her silk dress and walked to the cupboard in the corner of the room, her high heels clicking furiously on the hard floor. A minute later she returned with an old-fashioned, cloth bound photo album in her hand.
“Here, take a look. This is me when I was six. And this is Michael, my brother,’’ she opened the album and began flipping through. “And this is a school trip to Oxford. Oh, look at that. Is it me or is it Josephine in disguise? Isn’t it lovely?”
She pointed at a black-and-white photo of a pretty teenage girl in a school uniform, who was leaning against the brick wall. Josephine looked at the picture of young Julia and was struck by how similar they looked. Actually, truth be told, now Julia herself looked less like her teenage self than her niece did.
“Josephine, confess, are you Julia’s secret daughter she never told me about?” Alfredo laughed and nudged the guest, giving her a strange look. “It’s pretty amazing how much you look like her.”
“Oh, look at her, she’s all red now,’’ Julia declared and gave Josephine a hug. “Come on, I thought you had a good sense of humour.”
“That’s fine,’’ Josephine responded and forced a smile. She wasn’t quite sure what Alfredo was driving at.
“Anyway, shall we go out on the boat tomorrow? What do you think, Alfredo? We can show Josephine the coast. It is almost 25 degrees in the afternoon, time for us to finish the season while the weather allows,’’ Julia suggested and rose from the sofa again, the photo album in her manicured hand.
“Are you sure? The temperature can be quite deceiving, this is October after all. The wind is quite chilly, especially out at sea,’’ Alfredo tried to warn.
“Well, just this one last time. For Josephine only. She’s come from the land of fog and rain. Honey, please-please-please!’’ Julia said pleadingly, her lips forming an exaggerated pout as if she was about to blow a kiss.
“Very well,’’ Alfredo responded, happy to oblige, while showing the guest who was making the decisions in this relationship. “Just this one last time. Now, why don't you go put on something nice and we can go to Porto di Mare for dinner. Do you like seafood, Josephine?"
"I do, thank you."
"It's settled then. Honey, would you like to put on that nice dress we got last weekend?" Alfredo inquired and Josephine was pretty sure she saw hesitation on Julia's made-up face. Indeed, it seemed quite strange that Alfredo would tell Julia what to put on and do so in front of someone else. Was he dictating what she must wear?
Julia forced a smile and replied: "Of course, honey. But I think I am going to need your help with it."
"Josephine, will you excuse us for a few minutes?" Alfredo rose from his seat and grabbed Julia's arm. "We'll be back in no time".
The two of them climbed the stairs, Alfredo's hand openly squeezing and massaging the top of Julia's shapely behind as if Josephine was not even there to enjoy the view and they were free to show demonstrations of affection normally kept away from outsiders' eyes.
When Julia descended the stairs dressed for dinner it became obvious to Josephine why her aunt needed Alfredo's help with the outfit. Julia made for an arresting sight in very low cut, skin-tight floral gown that hugged her every curve and showed off her deep cleavage. The form-fitting, sleeveless dress ended just above the knees and was covered by eye-popping black orange blossom print. Julia's exceedingly narrow waist left little doubt that she was tightly laced underneath - with Alfredo's help most likely. The corset gave her an extreme hourglass figure with Julia's wide hips and protruding breasts contrasting with her compressed waist. To compete her jaw-dropping ensemble, she wore impossibly high platform stilettos with silver metallic heels and carried a carefully selected chain-embellished handbag. Her long blonde hair was let loose in a wave of curls befitting a teen pop princess and not a woman of her age.
She tottered forward on her heels and made a little twirl for Josephine.
"How do I look? The dress is Dolce & Gabbana, not exactly my favourite brand, but Alfredo just loves it on me! What do you think?"
"You look wonderful, Julia,'' Josephine declared half-heartedly, but with enough cheer in her voice so that Julia did not sense her reservation. Yes, the dress was very sexy and may have even been appropriate on a much younger woman, but on Julia it just looked wrong and completely out of place. She was most definitely showing off her impressive curves to impress Alfredo. And that corset! Was she going to a restaurant or to a fetish ball?
"You think so? Not too… dramatic?" Julia pressed on.
"Oh no, it's lovely,'' Josephine answered, trying not to look Julia in the eyes.
"You see, I told you it looks great on you,'' Alfredo interjected and put his arm around Julia’s narrow waist. "Shall we go?"
They were just about to leave the building when Alfredo’s cell phone rang.
“Si… Si… Questo è sfortunato!... Si…Ok, dammi un’ora,’’ he responded with barely contained irritation and hung up.
“I am so sorry, honey, Josephine. There’s an emergency at work with one of the patients. I must be at the clinic, apparently it can’t wait until the morning. I can drop you off at the restaurant if you’d like, but it looks like you’d need to take a taxi to get back,’’ Alfredo said.
“Oh, in that case we’ll just stay,’’ Julia responded and, as an afterthought, turned to her guest. “Josephine, what do you think?”
“I am happy to stay, I am not that hungry anyway,’’ Josephine said, happy in a way that she’d spend some more time with Julia without Alfredo around.
“Very well, don’t wait up for me then. Sorry again, but work’s work,’’ the surgeon said and was on his way, leaving the two women to enjoy the evening, but not before giving his older lover a sensual kiss on the full lips and patting her plump behind.
Julia walked across the kitchen’s marble floor, her too-high heels forcing her to wobble with every step, and sat down on a high bar chair, crossing her stockinged legs in a well-rehearsed sexy motion – her impressive body now on full display. Josephine followed and sat next to her aunt.
“So, do you like the new me?” Julia asked after an uneasy pause, playing with a long lock of golden hair.
“What do you mean, Julia?” Josephine asked with a smile, trying not to look at her aunt’s heaving bosom that looked as it was about to pop out from the confines of her low-cut dress. She couldn’t help but contrast her own boyish body with Julia’s – her full lips, her tiny waist, her wide hips and prominent bust – for lack of a better word she looked like a bimbo, a living and breathing sex doll, a woman that changed herself to please her man. “You look really good.”
“Ah, don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes,’’ Julia declared with a wave of her long-nailed hand. “You think I went too far, don’t you?”
“Well, may be just a little bit,’’ Josephine gave in. “I am not the one to judge you. If that makes you happy with yourself, why should my opinion matter? You do like it, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But I don’t want you to think I am now one of those old rich and bored women addicted to plastic surgery. Last thing I want is to end up like the Duchess of Alba, I promise!” Julia said with a smile. “I think I am safe in Alfredo’s hands.”
“That is good to hear. He seems like a protective kind of guy. I am sure he’ll take good care of you. He even picks which dresses you should wear. He's got some style!” Josephine said half-jokingly and the two women giggled.
“He certainly does. I indulge him sometimes, but he has a rather peculiar taste in women’s fashion, you should have seen some of the things he bought me!” Julia said.
“I have to say I like dressing sexy for him sometimes, but this thing is killing me,” she pressed her hands against her corseted waist. “Will you excuse me for a minute? If he’s not around I am sure as Hell not wearing this abomination.”
Julia went upstairs and returned ten minutes later dressed in a simple wrap-around coral dress that was a far cry from her earlier sexy outfit. It was as if with Alfredo away she didn’t need to act up as a pampered rich lady anymore and be her real self.
They had a light dinner with a bottle of rosé on the terrace and chatted about old times. It was pitch dark when they finally kissed good night and Josephine went to her room to get some rest.
Chapter 3
“Aaaarrrgh!”
Josephine woke up with a start as a woman’s loud scream filled the night air. Was that a dream or did someone really scream? She sat on her bed, listening attentively. No, it must have been a dream. The clock showed 3:48. She collapsed back on the pillow when she heard another scream, louder and more intense than the first time.
“AAAAA!”
No, that was no mistake. It sounded like someone was hurt and possibly needed help. Was it Julia?
There was no question that someone was in pain. Did Alfredo return? Did he hear that as well? She listened for footsteps in the corridor but there was nothing. Reluctantly she stepped out of bed, put on her jeans and a shirt and opened the door. There was a narrow strip of light showing under Julia’s bedroom door.
She made a few steps forward when she heard another scream, this time a muffled painful ‘ooooh’ coming – there was no doubt now – from Julia’s room. She stopped by the door and, after brief hesitation, knocked.
Josephine heard loud whispers, a sound of bare feet walking quickly across the room and then the door opened just barely to see part of Alfredo’s reddened face.
“Josephine… What happened?” he asked with a strong yawn – perhaps too strong to be genuine.
“Sorry… did I wake you up? It’s just that… I heard these noises… I thought something happened,” Josephine mumbled, feeling extremely awkward. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, all is good. Julia… She… how do you say it in English?” Alfredo started to explain when Josephine heard Julia’s voice from within the room.
“It’s all right, Josephine, don’t worry. I fell on the floor in the bathroom and twisted my ankle just a bit,” Alfredo opened the door wider and Josephine could see Julia laying on the bed, fully covered by a thick blanket so that only her eyes and forehead could be seen.
“I am sorry I woke you up. Alfredo came in to help me, I am fine now,” the aunt continued in a sleepy voice.
“Sorry I disturbed you. Have a good night,’’ Josephine responded and nodded to Alfredo who rushed in to close the door before her.
When Josephine descended the main stairs the following morning, she found Julia sitting alone on a terrace, sipping a cup of coffee and enjoying the scenery.
"Josephine, good morning. How was your sleep?" she asked cheerfully and snapped her finger for the maid to come over. "What would you like for breakfast?"
A tanned woman in a black uniform, complete with a white half-apron and a cap, materialized next to Josephine.
"That's fine, I can make my own coffee," was the guest's response that Julia all but ignored.
"Nonsense. Francesca, bring Josephine some toast, cheese and fruits. And make her coffee," Julia declared authoritatively.
"Si, Signora," the woman declared and disappeared as quietly as she had appeared a minute earlier.
"So, all good then?" Julia declared when the maid could not hear them.
"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you just seemed so genuinely concerned last night. I am sorry I woke you up," Julia said with a smile.
Josephine looked around to make sure Alfredo wasn't anywhere in sight and said in semi-whisper: "How is your ankle? I thought he was hurting you. Sorry I intruded like this."
"Hurt me? What gave you this odd idea, my girl? Well, he can be quite an animal if he gets carried away, but he'd never hurt me, not unless I asked him, if you know what I mean," Julia purred in an overly familiar and confiding manner that left Josephine quite uncomfortable. She didn't remember her aunt being like this and she wasn't sure she liked this new, awakened Julia. “The ankle’s fine, thanks. We applied some cream to it, it’s good as new.”
"Ladies, good morning,'' Alfredo appeared in the doorway, saving them from this uncomfortable conversation. "We should be going soon while it's sunny. It should be quite a hot day, if we believe the forecasts."
It was indeed very warm when, following a leisurely 30-minute drive to the marina, they boarded Julia's small motor yacht. It almost felt like summer and the sea still held the heat of the fading summer. Julia was dressed in a long flowing dress, an oversized 1970s style floppy hat and large dark glasses. Given her aunt's appearance yesterday, Josephine was half-expecting her to put on high heels and wear a couple of layers of makeup for the boat trip, but she chose a far more understated and practical look and had settled for almost sensible but beautiful leather wedge sandals.
Alfredo, wearing a Greek fisherman's cap, was confidently guiding their small boat along the coast. After helping him to cast off the yacht, Josephine was enjoying the view and the sea breeze.
“Don’t you have a hat? You’ll get sunstroke,’’ Julia commented, all of a sudden acting like an anxious mom out there to make sure no one did anything detrimental to their health.
“I am fine, thanks,” Josephine replied loudly, talking over the engine noise. "It's not that sunny anyway."
“I don’t want you to spend the rest of the weekend sick. The sun here is treacherous,’’ Julia continued.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Josephine repeated.
Unconvinced, Julia delved into the small cabin and emerged a few moments later with a floppy hat similar to her own.
“Here, this is all I have. Put it on,’’ she commanded and handed it to Josephine.
She accepted the hat reluctantly and put in on her head. It wasn’t really her style, but she had to admit it offered a welcome relief from the burning sun.
“Now, don’t you look great. Here,’’ she said and gave Josephine large dark glasses to complete her look and, before she could protest, snapped a photo with her phone. “I’ll post it on my Instagram and not say who it is. I am sure they’ll think it’s me!”
Alfredo looked from the cockpit at Josephine in a floppy hat and smiled at the uncanny resemblance between the young girl and her older aunt. Indeed, wearing a hat identical to Julia’s and with a pair of large dark glasses just like hers the two looked almost like twins. Or, rather, Josephine looked like a younger and fresher version of Julia sans the silicone lips, Botox injections and face-lifting.
They left Quercianella behind and headed south. There were a few boats in the distance and one could see fishermen and occasional sunbathers occupying the rocks and patches of sand between them, but all in all it was obvious that the holiday season was now long over: wooden and plastic sun loungers were left unclaimed and were stored in tall piles next to unused changing stalls, umbrellas remained unopened and most sea-view cafes, which would have been packed with loud tourists just a month before, appeared shut down.
After a lunch at Castiglioncello, a hilly picturesque town with a Florentine-style castle, they went back to the boat and continued their journey. Alfredo opened a bottle of Champagne and the three of them sat on the deck, sipping the ice-cold, bubbly liquid, and enjoying the views.
Josephine could not help but notice that Julia and Alfredo were a lot more reserved than last night, no longer showing off their affection. She remembered that during lunch the two of them had stepped out for a few minutes for a private talk and Josephine, while she could not hear the words, could tell from their animated gestures that they were arguing about something. It was not her business, she told herself, and just looked at all the natural beauty surrounding her.
Julia was constantly giving her fiancé strange, suspicious looks and Alfredo seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. It did look as if they had an unresolved argument they could not continue in Josephine’s presence and could hardly wait to get back to the villa to do just that.
“Shall we start heading back?” Alfredo asked and looked at the sky. “It looks like it’s going to start raining pretty soon. Look at that dark cloud over there.’’
Julia finished her glass in one gulp and did not say anything.
“Honey?” Alfredo addressed her directly. "Didn't you hear me?"
“Do whatever you want,’’ Julia finally responded and filled another glass, her hand trembling from the boat's motions. She sounded slightly drunk.
“Very well,’’ he said in an irritated tone of voice and climbed the cockpit again, mumbling something in Italian under his breath.
The weather became noticeably colder. Alfredo remained in the cockpit while Josephine and silent, unhappy Julia, wrapped in a blanket to keep warm, sat on the after deck in the lee of the higher cockpit.
“Josephine, can you come up here, please?” Alfredo called over the sound of the engine, inviting the young woman to climb to the cockpit.
“I need your help. Did you manage a boat before?” the Italian asked in a much quieter voice when Josephine came close.
“No, sorry. I would have no idea what to do,’’ she responded, speaking directly to his ear.
“Ok. Just hold the wheel like this for a few minutes, don’t make any sharp moves. I need to talk to Julia for two minutes. Can you do that?” Alfredo asked.
“I guess. It doesn’t look very difficult. Just keep an eye on me in case I do something stupid,’’ Josephine responded and took the wheel from Alfredo.
“Thanks," was his response as he went down, firmly holding a short rail, and sat down next to Julia. Josephine assumed the role of the captain, if only for a few minutes. It was getting dark.
With evening quickly approaching, the sea changed its colour from aquamarine to almost grey.
The sound of the engine was somehow louder in the cockpit and Josephine could not hear what his aunt and her lover were talking about. She turned back briefly and, like in a silent movie, saw the two of them engaged in a very animated but unheard conversation with lots of hand waving and finger pointing.
She turned back and concentrated on holding the wheel exactly like Alfredo had asked her. A minute later she thought he overheard a sound over the engine exhaust noise and the yacht gave a noticeable lurch. She looked behind again and saw the red-faced Alfredo slightly bent at the knees to hold his balance. His hand was on his cheek as if he’d just been slapped and, judging by Julia’s venomous facial expression, he most certainly had been. A moment later the Italian squeezed his lover’s shoulders and shook her violently, pushing her against the rail surrounding the after deck, trying at the same time not to fall over himself.
“Hey, what are you doing…” Josephine began screaming at the top of her lungs and, for a brief second, lost her hold on the wheel. She quickly grabbed it again and levelled the vessel, but not before it rocked violently to the left and then to the right. When she turned around again there was no sign of Julia anywhere. Alfredo was sitting on the floor, a strange expression on his face. Next to him were Julia’s large dark glasses.
The Italian rose to his feet and swiftly climbed to the cockpit, rudely pushed Josephine aside, almost knocking her off her feet, and stopped the engine.
“What did I tell you about holding the wheel, idiot?!!” Alfredo shouted, his handsome, male model’s face distorted by anger, his fists clenched. “She toppled over the stern into the water!”
“I… I’m not sure… I saw you hit her,” Josephine mumbled in her defence.
Alfredo did not answer. He was looking at the sea around the boat, trying to spot any sign of Julia.
“Ju-li-a! Ju-li-a!!!” he screamed in desperation. “Do you see her?!”
They ran up and down the boat like madmen. They even looked inside the cabin in a vain hope she may have fell there when the yacht tilted. Then Alfredo saw a black object on the water about twenty meters away - it was Julia’s floppy hat! Almost without thinking he jumped in the cold water and swiftly, with the confident, automatic moves of a professional swimmer, approached the area.
He lifted the hat, looked around, and finally saw Julia's body, floating face down just a few meters away. He turned her over and screamed. Her left shoulder and half of her neck had been completely chopped off by the boat’s propeller blades when she fell overboard. There was so much blood the water in a two-meter diameter around her looked brownish black.
Josephine helped him lift the body back on the boat and they covered it with a large towel. Her beautiful face, which remained completely intact, had an eerily calm expression. Most likely it happened so quickly she did not even feel anything - or so Josephine wanted to think, as if it made that much of a difference to their predicament.
They sat silently for a long time, the enormity of what had happened slowly settling in. Josephine did not dare utter a word. Yes, she did not hold the wheel well enough and was ultimately responsible, but she did see Alfredo trying to push Julia. None of this would have happened if he wasn’t pushing her! Was he trying to kill her? Even if he wasn’t, they did have a violent argument - there was no doubt about it!
“Now listen to me,’’ Alfredo finally spoke, sounding a lot calmer than one would have expected from him given the circumstances. “No one must know about it. Understand?”
“What do you mean?” Josephine asked in a trembling voice.
“What I mean is that I don’t want to ruin my life because of your stupidity,’’ Alfredo explained forcefully.
“It wasn’t my fault,’’ Josephine tried to protest, but Alfredo interrupted her.
“Shut up, moron. It was. And even if it wasn’t it would be your word against mine and we’ll both go under. I might be wrong about you, but you seem like a sensible enough girl. She’s dead already, she won’t come back if we report this accident to the police,’’ the Italian explained authoritatively.
“So… what are you suggesting?” Josephine asked. “We can’t just return to the villa and say we lost Julia somewhere along the way.”
“Servants are a problem, but I think I have a plan. If you don’t do anything stupid, it will definitely work. I’ll take care of the body - you don’t seem like the kind anyway - but you have a much more important part to play,’’ Alfredo said.
“What part? What do you mean?” Josephine asked.
Alfredo gave a dramatic pause and said: “The part of Julia, stupid. You look enough like her, even she noticed that.’’
“But, what do you mean? This is ludicrous! It will never work,” Josephine responded, shocked that Alfredo could even suggest such a plan.
“You are an actress; can’t you play your own aunt? I am offering you the best option to escape prison. Or, at the very least, years upon years of legal problems. Do you want to ruin your career forever? I certainly don’t,” Alfredo continued confidently. It did sound as if he already had the full plan ready in his head. “Furthermore, it’s going to be very dark when we return. We only need it for a short while. I’ll get rid of the servants after we return and then we’ll decide how we proceed from there.”
“I am sorry, but that sounds crazy. Even if I fool the servants at night, Julia can’t just disappear later,’’ Josephine tried to protest.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. I have some ideas, but they would require your full cooperation. Remember, we are now in the same boat, both literally and figuratively,’’ Alfredo continued. “So, are you going to prison or helping me to help you - and me?”
“I… I still don’t like the plan, but when you put it like this… Ok, let’s give it a try. As long as I leave this place on Monday and you take care of the rest,” Josephine responded quietly.
“Very well. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do. But sometimes you must make hard decisions,’’ Alfredo concluded and restarted the engine. “It’s less than an hour before dark, let’s keep moving.”
by Camille Langtry
Chapter 1
“We’ll give you a call, Miss Raymond,’’ said the 40-something woman in a grey sweater. She removed her black-rimmed glasses and closed the folder in front of her, indicating that the audition was over and Miss Raymond should better move along to give way to other aspiring applicants waiting in the corridor. A bored-looking older man sitting next to her - the casting director - said nothing and just nodded his head.
“It’s RaymOnd, it’s French originally,’’ replied the young woman and rose from the chair in the middle of the room.
“Right,’’ replied the older woman and replaced her glasses, slightly irritated by the unwanted correction and looked in the folder again. “Josephine RaymOnd. Thank you for your time. Please don’t forget to leave the script on the table by the door. Next!”
The next applicant - a tall skinny girl of about 30 looking like a typical hipster in her ultra-tight jeans and with plastic framed glasses on her pert nose - was already standing in the doorway. She stepped aside to give way to the departing Josephine before entering the room and closing the door behind her.
"We’ll give you a call". How many times had she heard these very words or their equivalents in the past two years? "We’ll be in touch". "We’ll let you know". "We’ll drop you a line". All were euphemisms for "you are not good enough" anyway, weren’t they? Yes, it would hurt hearing the latter in these very words, but waiting in vain for a phone call or an e-mail was hardly pleasant either. She was already 25, but her acting portfolio was nothing to write home about and filled but half a page on her resume even with double spacing and a size 16 font. A couple of commercials. A small role in a police TV series that was cancelled after the first season due to poor ratings. Occasional odd roles in London’s West End musicals helped to pay the rent, but just barely.
She kept reminding herself that if she was persistent enough and kept trying she’d get her big break one of these days, but this rollercoaster of initial hope and inevitable despair was eating her from the inside out. This was her third audition this week and she was almost certain she wouldn’t get that role. Miracles do happen, of course, but dozens of rejected attempts in the past month taught her to set the expectation bar low, very low. This time the audition was for a Victorian-era detective television film about disputed inheritance or some such - hardly a breakthrough role anyway. Still, it would have been good to boost her extra thin resume and help her meet more people in the industry.
As if on cue it began raining the moment she stepped out of the building. It was only a few blocks to the Tube, but before she could reach the entrance her shoes and coat were soaking wet, adding physical discomfort to her mental turmoil. It was only early October, but it felt more like late November. Chilly and wet. Welcome to London! She could definitely use some sun, if only she could afford it.
Then it clicked. It was October 6th. Aunt Julia’s birthday. They’d been out of touch for a couple of years after she moved to Tuscany to spend her millions from the sprawling villa near Livorno, but they used to be very close as Josephine was growing up. Now it was reduced to a phone call every couple of months or so and occasional “hi, how are you” emails. She followed her on Facebook but didn't pay much attention to what she was up to these days.
Aunt Julia was her late father’s younger sister. An incredible beauty in her youth, she worked as a model for a few years before marrying an Italian aristocrat who was much older than her. She inherited some exorbitant amount from him - he'd been dead for at least a decade now and Josephine only met him a couple of times when she was little - and had been living a rich socialite's life of leisure ever since, travelling between London, New York, Paris and Milan, attending fashion shows, gala luncheons, and movie premiers and spending her wealth like there was no tomorrow.
Aunt Julia had been kind and generous enough to pay for her only niece’s education, allowing her to attend one of the best drama schools in London, but recently they’d grown distant as Josephine tried - unsuccessfully so far - to build a name for herself without her aunt’s money and connections. Julia was too preoccupied with her rich and pampered lifestyle across the continents to pay much attention to her niece’s professional and financial struggles. Still, they exchanged phone calls and Julia liked to impress her niece with expensive birthday gifts that Josephine could never afford.
"How old was she turning?", Josephine asked herself. Dad would have been 60 last year and she was five or six years younger, perhaps seven. She couldn’t quite recall. In any case, that was not the question to ask a woman, especially one who was as self-conscious about her looks as Aunt Julia. Whatever she lacked growing up in her lower-middle class surroundings in the 1960s and the 1970s she was now compensating for with a vengeance. She was always well-dressed, well-coiffed and well-groomed. She was surrounded by beautiful things and beautiful people and, unlike so many trophy wives-turned-rich widows, was, to a large degree, the epitome of style and good manners. At least she was when they last met.
It was already 10 pm when Josephine got home and dialled in Aunt Julia on Skype. No one answered for almost a minute and then the face of a dark-haired, fashionably unshaven man of about 35 appeared on the screen.
“You need to talk to Giulia?” he asked in a heavy Italian accent that really went well with his dark, Latin lover complexion.
“Yes, please. Tell her it’s Josephine.’’
“One minute please,” he answered loudly over the background party noise.
The man moved from the laptop screen and Josephine could briefly see part of a large room filled with fashionably-attired people, engaged in animated conversations as live soft jazz was filling the air. A few moments later Julia, dressed in a very low-cut silver sparkling dress with short sleeves, her full blonde hair gathered impeccably in an elaborate chignon, sat by the monitor. Using a video screen as her mirror, she straightened her hairdo and looked to the sides to make sure her makeup - very overdone, Josephine couldn't help but notice - was flawless before turning her attention to Josephine.
“Look who’s here! Long time no see,’’ she said excitedly, sounding a bit like a giddy teenage girl and not as a mature woman old enough to be Josephine’s mother. There was something slightly different about her face - was it her makeup or poor lighting? Or was she experimenting with plastic surgery? Her nose certainly looked smaller and perter. Her lips looked much fuller and puffier that Josephine remembered, but it may have been the effect of the excessively applied lip gloss. In either case, Julia looked very good. Incredibly sexy and sophisticated. Especially so for a woman her age.
“Happy birthday, Aunt Julia! I am wishing you all the best…” Josephine began her well-rehearsed congratulatory speech only to be interrupted mid-sentence.
“Oh, don’t remind me,’’ Julia responded coquettishly, touching a sparkling diamond earring with her index finger, and pouting her full red lips like an upset teenage girl. “And don’t call me aunt, I've told you often enough. It’s just Julia. Call me aunt one more time and I’ll start calling you Joey again, I remember how much you loved it as a kid!”
“Of course, Julia. Please, anything but Joey,” Josephine replied with a smile.
“So, how is sunny London? How’s your acting? I saw that thing you were in. What was it? The Defence? The Defender?” she began bombarding her niece with questions, without a pause to give Josephine even a chance to respond.
“The Line of Defence,’’ Josephine managed to interject to correct Julia. It was the cancelled police show she was in. And her biggest television role to-date.
“Yes, you were pretty good there. I wish they would have given you a more prominent role. You were just standing there most of the time, letting others do the talking. I guess that's how it is with women doing police work anyway,’’ she commented matter-of-factly, probably oblivious to the fact that her words were stinging Josephine’s professional pride. “Well, I am sure there'll be a much more interesting role ahead of you. You are so talented, I am proud of you.”
“Thank you, Julia,” Josephine responded.
“You really should come visit me here. You are family after all. I haven’t seen you in ages. I’ll introduce you to Alfredo,’’ Julia continued.
“Alfredo?” Josephine asked. It must have been the Latin lover type who answered her Skype call. She had long lost track of her aunt’s many romantic interests, who were becoming progressively younger and better looking as she was becoming more and more mature. As a credit to her good sense, she never remarried, wanting to maintain her financial and legal freedom to do whatever she wanted with her deceased husband’s fortune even though there was apparently no shortage of suitors seeking her hand ... and probably her money.
“Oh, I don’t think I told you yet. Ta-da!” she waved her left hand with an oversized diamond engagement ring in front of the camera.
“Congratulations!” was Josephine’s surprised reply.
“I never suspected I’d be entering these waters again, but here I am. Engaged to the most beautiful and caring man. I am sure you’ll love him. Everybody does,’’ she continued excitedly. “So, come this weekend. I’ll pay for the trip. It looks like you need some rest. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Thank you, Julia. I’d be happy to!” Josephine replied just as Julia turned away from the screen for a few seconds, talking to someone.
“Sorry, gotta run. You can’t leave your guests unattended for long, can you? See you soon!” Julia turned to the monitor again and waved her well-manicured hand with long pink nails in front of the camera again.
"Bye, see you soon."
Josephine closed her laptop and leaned against the chair. She could certainly escape London for a few days, if only to enjoy sunny autumn in Tuscany. There was really not that much holding her in the big city. And if there was an interesting audition or someone unexpectedly had a job offer she was only a couple of hours away by plane. With aunt Julia paying, it was stupid to turn such a tempting offer down.
Josephine booked a ticket to Florence for the following afternoon. With the trip only being for a few days, she packed light - jeans, a couple of blouses and t-shirts and a light sweater for chilly evenings. She’d been to Julia’s estate before, but that was still in her student days, four or five years ago. Julia's late spouse’s family had owned the place for centuries and it was stocked to the brim with Cefallini family memorabilia - old paintings, marble statues, antique furniture and other heirlooms collected over the generations. The light brown-coloured villa sat on top of a picturesque hill which offered glorious views of the valley and the sea shore just a few kilometres away - a vista straight from a classic Renaissance painting.
All this natural and human-made beauty - as well as a hefty sum across several bank accounts in Italy and Switzerland - was passed on to Julia when her husband died childless - much to his distant relatives’ anger and embarrassment. As far as they were concerned, she was just a trophy wife, an English girl of questionable upbringing who couldn’t even speak Italian and whose only real assets were good looks.
Still, Julia settled into the life of a rich and pampered widow and seemed to enjoy it greatly. She was still very good looking and could turn heads of men half her age, even as unmistakable signs of aging were showing here and there. It was nothing drastic - yet - but enough to leave her concerned and aware of things to come just a few years ahead. Of course, she never discussed any of it with her young and pretty niece - for her she was always cheery with not a worry in the world - but the experiments with her face, as she attempted to thwart the ravages of time, were all too evident. Not that there was anything wrong or excessive about it - after all, with her money, she could afford the best and the most expensive treatments but never the less...
As Josephine made her way to the villa from the airport she marvelled at the natural beauty surrounding her. Omnipresent evergreen cypress trees dotted the hilly, picture-perfect landscape. This was the life! What a contrast to grey, wet and noisy London. No wonder Julia chose to spend most of her time here. She couldn’t help but feel jealous. While some - most - had to work for a living, for others a ticket to success was finding a rich husband and either divorcing him, taking half of his fortune, or outliving him and keeping all of it. As a contemporary girl, she could not find such behaviour appealing in the least, but a dark thought that she would most likely never be able to afford the lifestyle that Julia was living - unless she became a big Hollywood star, a distant prospect even by the most optimistic expectations - was hurting her pride.
The taxi turned to a gravel road and, after climbing another hill, she could finally see the villa - a large, two-storey building built in a classical, immediately-recognizable Tuscany style. Aunt Julia, dressed in a light blue, knee-length dress with a white collar was standing on the porch and waving her hand.
Chapter 2
Before Josephine could even take her leather sports bag from the taxi’s trunk, Julia walked to her niece, making small, mincing steps on the gravel with her impossibly high stiletto heels, and gave her a strong hug. She smelled of expensive, liberally-applied perfume and Josephine confirmed that the monitor's camera was not lying: Julia's lips, covered by a thick layer of fire-engine red lipstick, were much fuller, giving her a permanent pout of the type that many an ageing starlet and society diva possessed. Julia clearly had had something done to them.
It wasn't just the lips though. There was another prominent feature of the new Julia that the video camera did not quite catch during the conversation with Josephine: her breasts. There was no question that they were surgically enhanced - at least for someone who remembered the old Julia. They did not look unnatural - the boob job was obviously done by a top professional - but were in sharp contrast to Julia's original, much smaller ones - not unlike Josephine's own: flat chests really ran in the family. She could not believe her eyes - her proud aunt Julia, who always seemed so stylish and confident in her looks, had succumbed to the illness so common among the type of women she always found abhorrent - those using their sexy bodies to get ahead. But aunt Julia wasn't like that, was she?
“Welcome… muwah… Look at you… muwah,’’ Julia said between kisses and gave Josephine another hug, pressing her new massive breasts into her niece. “Jerome, can you help with that bag?”
A sturdy, impeccably shaven man in his late forties, dressed in the livery of a servant straight from a TV production about the rich and the famous, appeared out of nowhere, bowed, silently grabbed the bag and disappeared inside the villa before Josephine could even utter a word.
“Come inside, it’s getting chilly,’’ Julia said and affectedly shrugged her shoulders. “Is that all you've got? Just this tiny little bag?"
"Yes, it's only for a couple of days," Josephine responded. "I didn't feel like bringing my entire wardrobe."
"Ah, you've always been that sweatshirt and pajama pants kinda girl. This it so sad. I should definitely take you shopping while you are here. And don't you dare say no. You'll look like a princess, you are so pretty. Why are you hiding it?" Julia continued chattering as the two entered the building.
Josephine just smiled in response. Indeed, their clothing styles could not have been more different. With Julia it had always been all show - designer gowns and suits, expensive bags, sparkling jewelery, impractical but oh so pretty shoes. As for Josephine, it was mostly jeans, almost no makeup, comfy shoes and natural hair.
"You should really let your hair grow out, it's beautiful. Why do you keep it so short?" Julia continued to lecture Josephine and playfully touched her niece's thick mane that barely reached her shoulders.
"Alfredo is in Pisa on business, he’ll be home in a couple of hours. Enough time for us to chat and gossip, like in the good old times, right? Your room is on the first floor, Jerome took your bag there,” Julia said and pointed her well-manicured hand at the ceiling.
The place looked exactly like Josephine remembered from her previous visits. It was tastefully decorated and, unlike so many old Tuscany houses bought by rich Europeans and Americans in the past decades, survived the prevalent love for glass, plastic and ultra-modern home appliances virtually intact. It still largely looked the way it had in the 1950s if not before - with massive antique furniture, creaky parquet and thick wooden window frames with elaborate, unique brass handles.
Josephine went up to her room. It was spacious and overlooked the scenic valley below. Small bags of lavender scattered around filled the room with a pleasant smell of cleanliness and eternal spring. The smell of Tuscany.
She quickly changed into a fresh shirt and a pair of jeans and descended the stairs into a large living room. Julia was sitting on a sofa and skimming a thick glossy magazine. She lifted her eyes from the page and smiled.
“Here you are, come sit with me,’’ she said and hit the spot on the sofa next to her. Julia examined Josephine’s jeans, shirt and sneakers disapprovingly and repeated her threat from earlier: “Is that all the clothing you brought? You never were the dressy kind, were you? We are soooo taking you shopping here! This college look of yours may be fine with your London friends, but not in bella Italia!”
Dressed in a blue, short-sleeved silk dress that barely touched her knees, Julia, in contrast to her niece, channelled class and sophistication. Her blonde hair was gathered up, showing her long neck which displayed a pearl necklace and a matching set of earrings perfectly. She wore nude pumps with pin-needle, impossibly thin high heels. Josephine could not help but ask herself if she had dressed like this just to greet her or was it her regular daily style as befitting a lady of leisure and substantial means. She couldn't imagine herself being dressed so femininely - that wasn't her style at all - but even on Julia, especially given her recent enhancements, it seemed just a bit excessive, as if she was trying too hard to impress someone or, even more likely, to turn back time.
Still, even with all the unmistakable signs of plastic surgery, she looked wonderful, especially for a woman of her age. Josephine had seen women two decades younger that looked far worse. If there was one possible giveaway of Julia’s real age it was her excessive make-up. She didn’t remember her overdoing it before, but now it looked as if she’d spent a full hour applying blusher, eye shadow, mascara and lipstick. Did she also do something to her nose? It seems smaller and more upturned than Josephine remembered, but she wasn’t absolutely sure. And then there were her new lips. No longer thin and narrow, they were full and unnaturally thick and wide, giving Julia that look of being constantly surprised or unhappy about something.
“So, how do you find me?” she said coquettishly, her fingers playing with one of the pearls in her necklace. "You keep staring at my lips. You like them?"
“You look wonderful, Julia,’’ Josephine responded, stopping at the last moment from calling her “aunt”. "It's not like you needed anything, it was perfect before..."
"Ah, no it wasn't, don't say that," Julia dismissed her niece's transparent attempt at flattery with a wave of her right hand. "Don’t tell him I told you, but Alfredo is a true magician. He is. Of all the surgeons I’ve been to, he’s the best by far.’’
“So, he’s a doctor than?” Josephine inquired.
“A plastic surgeon. One of the best in Italy. That’s how I met him. He’s done wonders I didn’t think were even possible for me,’’ Julia responded and turned her beautiful made-up face to the sides, as if exhibiting Alfredo’s amazing handiwork for everyone to see. “Anyway, how have you been doing?”
“It’s been great, thank you,’’ Josephine responded, but before she could expand on the greatness of her non-existent achievements, they heard the sound of a car stopping by the entrance. A minute later a well-tanned, athletically-built young man, dressed in a dark blazer with two rows of golden buttons and white pants, entered the room, holding a large leather folder in his hand. It was the man who had answered Josephine’s Skype call earlier. With long curly hair, that almost reached his shoulders, and the dark, Mediterranean complexion of an ancient Roman god, he emanated self-assurance and not a small amount of self-admiration.
“Alfredo!” Julia screamed excitedly, minced toward her fiancé with an exaggerated sexy sway and gave him a long, hard kiss as his arm hugged her lower back possessively. She lifted her leg, exposing the top of her stockings with attached metal suspender clips just for a second.
“Meet Josephine, she’s my niece I told you so much about,’’ she said as their lips parted. “She's the only family I have. She’s come to visit us for the weekend.”
“Very nice to meet you,’’ the young Apollo said in grammatically correct, but heavily accented English, and extended his tanned hand to Josephine. “Julia told me so much about you. You are an actress in London, are you not?”
“I am,’’ Josephine responded, all of a sudden feeling awkward as if she did not really belong there. The fact that Alfredo was clearly an alpha male - just the narcissistic type that Josephine always found ridiculous - did not help things. They clearly did not have a lot in common.
Alfredo nodded, showing little interest in Josephine’s acting career, and turned his attention to Julia again.
“Let me take a look, honey, “Alfredo lifted Julia’s chin and slowly turned her face to the left and then to the right, inspecting her lips. “I think the swelling is almost gone already. Give it a couple of days. What do you think? Do you like it?”
“Oh yes, I love it. It still feels alien to me, but I am sure I’d get used to it. It looks amazing, the best birthday gift, thank you,’’ she responded in a cheery voice and leaned to him, putting her hand with long, shiny pink nails on his wide chest.
Josephine forced a smile, but felt very uncomfortable again, not least because of Julia’s ostentatious “woman in love” act. She was certain she was not acting and was really deeply in love with this guy, but somehow that made things even worse. She had always considered Julia a smart, strong and confident woman, who knew her worth and would never fall for a dark-haired gigolo twenty years her junior. Even if he was Italy's top plastic surgeon or whatever.
Yes, she’d been known to date younger men - not that there was anything particularly wrong with that - but was she really going to marry her plastic surgeon? That was like something out of a tabloid or a bad movie. It was so stereotypical it was hard to believe it could happen in real life to someone she always took for an independent woman. A bored, rich, and aging woman falls for a handsome man, young enough to be her son. A fitness instructor. Or a good-looking military officer, a widower with dark memories. Something like this belonged in cheap romance novels. Josephine was struck by the banality of it all.
Still, looking at Julia’s excited face, she could not deny that her aunt looked genuinely happy. It was her life, after all. And it was none of her business who she was sleeping with and who she was dating or was planning to marry, Josephine reminded herself. At least the guy in question has a well-paying profession so he can’t be motivated by her money alone. Or can he? Josephine tried to push this thought away. She was only a guest here and it was Julia’s life, not hers.
“You know, Josephine, you look so much like Julia. Not even like a niece, you look like her younger sister or a daughter, there is a very strong similarity,’’ Alfredo noted after they sat down in the living room for a glass of wine.
“My father looked almost like Julia’s twin and I look a lot like my father,’’ Josephine noted. There was indeed a very strong family resemblance - the contour of the face, the eyes and the eyebrow shape, the cheekbones - even after Julia’s plastic surgeries.
“Oh yes, we were several years apart, but looked like twins. If I show you some old photos, you won’t be able to tell a difference. One minute,’’ Julia rose from the sofa, straightened the hem of her silk dress and walked to the cupboard in the corner of the room, her high heels clicking furiously on the hard floor. A minute later she returned with an old-fashioned, cloth bound photo album in her hand.
“Here, take a look. This is me when I was six. And this is Michael, my brother,’’ she opened the album and began flipping through. “And this is a school trip to Oxford. Oh, look at that. Is it me or is it Josephine in disguise? Isn’t it lovely?”
She pointed at a black-and-white photo of a pretty teenage girl in a school uniform, who was leaning against the brick wall. Josephine looked at the picture of young Julia and was struck by how similar they looked. Actually, truth be told, now Julia herself looked less like her teenage self than her niece did.
“Josephine, confess, are you Julia’s secret daughter she never told me about?” Alfredo laughed and nudged the guest, giving her a strange look. “It’s pretty amazing how much you look like her.”
“Oh, look at her, she’s all red now,’’ Julia declared and gave Josephine a hug. “Come on, I thought you had a good sense of humour.”
“That’s fine,’’ Josephine responded and forced a smile. She wasn’t quite sure what Alfredo was driving at.
“Anyway, shall we go out on the boat tomorrow? What do you think, Alfredo? We can show Josephine the coast. It is almost 25 degrees in the afternoon, time for us to finish the season while the weather allows,’’ Julia suggested and rose from the sofa again, the photo album in her manicured hand.
“Are you sure? The temperature can be quite deceiving, this is October after all. The wind is quite chilly, especially out at sea,’’ Alfredo tried to warn.
“Well, just this one last time. For Josephine only. She’s come from the land of fog and rain. Honey, please-please-please!’’ Julia said pleadingly, her lips forming an exaggerated pout as if she was about to blow a kiss.
“Very well,’’ Alfredo responded, happy to oblige, while showing the guest who was making the decisions in this relationship. “Just this one last time. Now, why don't you go put on something nice and we can go to Porto di Mare for dinner. Do you like seafood, Josephine?"
"I do, thank you."
"It's settled then. Honey, would you like to put on that nice dress we got last weekend?" Alfredo inquired and Josephine was pretty sure she saw hesitation on Julia's made-up face. Indeed, it seemed quite strange that Alfredo would tell Julia what to put on and do so in front of someone else. Was he dictating what she must wear?
Julia forced a smile and replied: "Of course, honey. But I think I am going to need your help with it."
"Josephine, will you excuse us for a few minutes?" Alfredo rose from his seat and grabbed Julia's arm. "We'll be back in no time".
The two of them climbed the stairs, Alfredo's hand openly squeezing and massaging the top of Julia's shapely behind as if Josephine was not even there to enjoy the view and they were free to show demonstrations of affection normally kept away from outsiders' eyes.
When Julia descended the stairs dressed for dinner it became obvious to Josephine why her aunt needed Alfredo's help with the outfit. Julia made for an arresting sight in very low cut, skin-tight floral gown that hugged her every curve and showed off her deep cleavage. The form-fitting, sleeveless dress ended just above the knees and was covered by eye-popping black orange blossom print. Julia's exceedingly narrow waist left little doubt that she was tightly laced underneath - with Alfredo's help most likely. The corset gave her an extreme hourglass figure with Julia's wide hips and protruding breasts contrasting with her compressed waist. To compete her jaw-dropping ensemble, she wore impossibly high platform stilettos with silver metallic heels and carried a carefully selected chain-embellished handbag. Her long blonde hair was let loose in a wave of curls befitting a teen pop princess and not a woman of her age.
She tottered forward on her heels and made a little twirl for Josephine.
"How do I look? The dress is Dolce & Gabbana, not exactly my favourite brand, but Alfredo just loves it on me! What do you think?"
"You look wonderful, Julia,'' Josephine declared half-heartedly, but with enough cheer in her voice so that Julia did not sense her reservation. Yes, the dress was very sexy and may have even been appropriate on a much younger woman, but on Julia it just looked wrong and completely out of place. She was most definitely showing off her impressive curves to impress Alfredo. And that corset! Was she going to a restaurant or to a fetish ball?
"You think so? Not too… dramatic?" Julia pressed on.
"Oh no, it's lovely,'' Josephine answered, trying not to look Julia in the eyes.
"You see, I told you it looks great on you,'' Alfredo interjected and put his arm around Julia’s narrow waist. "Shall we go?"
They were just about to leave the building when Alfredo’s cell phone rang.
“Si… Si… Questo è sfortunato!... Si…Ok, dammi un’ora,’’ he responded with barely contained irritation and hung up.
“I am so sorry, honey, Josephine. There’s an emergency at work with one of the patients. I must be at the clinic, apparently it can’t wait until the morning. I can drop you off at the restaurant if you’d like, but it looks like you’d need to take a taxi to get back,’’ Alfredo said.
“Oh, in that case we’ll just stay,’’ Julia responded and, as an afterthought, turned to her guest. “Josephine, what do you think?”
“I am happy to stay, I am not that hungry anyway,’’ Josephine said, happy in a way that she’d spend some more time with Julia without Alfredo around.
“Very well, don’t wait up for me then. Sorry again, but work’s work,’’ the surgeon said and was on his way, leaving the two women to enjoy the evening, but not before giving his older lover a sensual kiss on the full lips and patting her plump behind.
Julia walked across the kitchen’s marble floor, her too-high heels forcing her to wobble with every step, and sat down on a high bar chair, crossing her stockinged legs in a well-rehearsed sexy motion – her impressive body now on full display. Josephine followed and sat next to her aunt.
“So, do you like the new me?” Julia asked after an uneasy pause, playing with a long lock of golden hair.
“What do you mean, Julia?” Josephine asked with a smile, trying not to look at her aunt’s heaving bosom that looked as it was about to pop out from the confines of her low-cut dress. She couldn’t help but contrast her own boyish body with Julia’s – her full lips, her tiny waist, her wide hips and prominent bust – for lack of a better word she looked like a bimbo, a living and breathing sex doll, a woman that changed herself to please her man. “You look really good.”
“Ah, don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes,’’ Julia declared with a wave of her long-nailed hand. “You think I went too far, don’t you?”
“Well, may be just a little bit,’’ Josephine gave in. “I am not the one to judge you. If that makes you happy with yourself, why should my opinion matter? You do like it, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But I don’t want you to think I am now one of those old rich and bored women addicted to plastic surgery. Last thing I want is to end up like the Duchess of Alba, I promise!” Julia said with a smile. “I think I am safe in Alfredo’s hands.”
“That is good to hear. He seems like a protective kind of guy. I am sure he’ll take good care of you. He even picks which dresses you should wear. He's got some style!” Josephine said half-jokingly and the two women giggled.
“He certainly does. I indulge him sometimes, but he has a rather peculiar taste in women’s fashion, you should have seen some of the things he bought me!” Julia said.
“I have to say I like dressing sexy for him sometimes, but this thing is killing me,” she pressed her hands against her corseted waist. “Will you excuse me for a minute? If he’s not around I am sure as Hell not wearing this abomination.”
Julia went upstairs and returned ten minutes later dressed in a simple wrap-around coral dress that was a far cry from her earlier sexy outfit. It was as if with Alfredo away she didn’t need to act up as a pampered rich lady anymore and be her real self.
They had a light dinner with a bottle of rosé on the terrace and chatted about old times. It was pitch dark when they finally kissed good night and Josephine went to her room to get some rest.
Chapter 3
“Aaaarrrgh!”
Josephine woke up with a start as a woman’s loud scream filled the night air. Was that a dream or did someone really scream? She sat on her bed, listening attentively. No, it must have been a dream. The clock showed 3:48. She collapsed back on the pillow when she heard another scream, louder and more intense than the first time.
“AAAAA!”
No, that was no mistake. It sounded like someone was hurt and possibly needed help. Was it Julia?
There was no question that someone was in pain. Did Alfredo return? Did he hear that as well? She listened for footsteps in the corridor but there was nothing. Reluctantly she stepped out of bed, put on her jeans and a shirt and opened the door. There was a narrow strip of light showing under Julia’s bedroom door.
She made a few steps forward when she heard another scream, this time a muffled painful ‘ooooh’ coming – there was no doubt now – from Julia’s room. She stopped by the door and, after brief hesitation, knocked.
Josephine heard loud whispers, a sound of bare feet walking quickly across the room and then the door opened just barely to see part of Alfredo’s reddened face.
“Josephine… What happened?” he asked with a strong yawn – perhaps too strong to be genuine.
“Sorry… did I wake you up? It’s just that… I heard these noises… I thought something happened,” Josephine mumbled, feeling extremely awkward. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, all is good. Julia… She… how do you say it in English?” Alfredo started to explain when Josephine heard Julia’s voice from within the room.
“It’s all right, Josephine, don’t worry. I fell on the floor in the bathroom and twisted my ankle just a bit,” Alfredo opened the door wider and Josephine could see Julia laying on the bed, fully covered by a thick blanket so that only her eyes and forehead could be seen.
“I am sorry I woke you up. Alfredo came in to help me, I am fine now,” the aunt continued in a sleepy voice.
“Sorry I disturbed you. Have a good night,’’ Josephine responded and nodded to Alfredo who rushed in to close the door before her.
When Josephine descended the main stairs the following morning, she found Julia sitting alone on a terrace, sipping a cup of coffee and enjoying the scenery.
"Josephine, good morning. How was your sleep?" she asked cheerfully and snapped her finger for the maid to come over. "What would you like for breakfast?"
A tanned woman in a black uniform, complete with a white half-apron and a cap, materialized next to Josephine.
"That's fine, I can make my own coffee," was the guest's response that Julia all but ignored.
"Nonsense. Francesca, bring Josephine some toast, cheese and fruits. And make her coffee," Julia declared authoritatively.
"Si, Signora," the woman declared and disappeared as quietly as she had appeared a minute earlier.
"So, all good then?" Julia declared when the maid could not hear them.
"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you just seemed so genuinely concerned last night. I am sorry I woke you up," Julia said with a smile.
Josephine looked around to make sure Alfredo wasn't anywhere in sight and said in semi-whisper: "How is your ankle? I thought he was hurting you. Sorry I intruded like this."
"Hurt me? What gave you this odd idea, my girl? Well, he can be quite an animal if he gets carried away, but he'd never hurt me, not unless I asked him, if you know what I mean," Julia purred in an overly familiar and confiding manner that left Josephine quite uncomfortable. She didn't remember her aunt being like this and she wasn't sure she liked this new, awakened Julia. “The ankle’s fine, thanks. We applied some cream to it, it’s good as new.”
"Ladies, good morning,'' Alfredo appeared in the doorway, saving them from this uncomfortable conversation. "We should be going soon while it's sunny. It should be quite a hot day, if we believe the forecasts."
It was indeed very warm when, following a leisurely 30-minute drive to the marina, they boarded Julia's small motor yacht. It almost felt like summer and the sea still held the heat of the fading summer. Julia was dressed in a long flowing dress, an oversized 1970s style floppy hat and large dark glasses. Given her aunt's appearance yesterday, Josephine was half-expecting her to put on high heels and wear a couple of layers of makeup for the boat trip, but she chose a far more understated and practical look and had settled for almost sensible but beautiful leather wedge sandals.
Alfredo, wearing a Greek fisherman's cap, was confidently guiding their small boat along the coast. After helping him to cast off the yacht, Josephine was enjoying the view and the sea breeze.
“Don’t you have a hat? You’ll get sunstroke,’’ Julia commented, all of a sudden acting like an anxious mom out there to make sure no one did anything detrimental to their health.
“I am fine, thanks,” Josephine replied loudly, talking over the engine noise. "It's not that sunny anyway."
“I don’t want you to spend the rest of the weekend sick. The sun here is treacherous,’’ Julia continued.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Josephine repeated.
Unconvinced, Julia delved into the small cabin and emerged a few moments later with a floppy hat similar to her own.
“Here, this is all I have. Put it on,’’ she commanded and handed it to Josephine.
She accepted the hat reluctantly and put in on her head. It wasn’t really her style, but she had to admit it offered a welcome relief from the burning sun.
“Now, don’t you look great. Here,’’ she said and gave Josephine large dark glasses to complete her look and, before she could protest, snapped a photo with her phone. “I’ll post it on my Instagram and not say who it is. I am sure they’ll think it’s me!”
Alfredo looked from the cockpit at Josephine in a floppy hat and smiled at the uncanny resemblance between the young girl and her older aunt. Indeed, wearing a hat identical to Julia’s and with a pair of large dark glasses just like hers the two looked almost like twins. Or, rather, Josephine looked like a younger and fresher version of Julia sans the silicone lips, Botox injections and face-lifting.
They left Quercianella behind and headed south. There were a few boats in the distance and one could see fishermen and occasional sunbathers occupying the rocks and patches of sand between them, but all in all it was obvious that the holiday season was now long over: wooden and plastic sun loungers were left unclaimed and were stored in tall piles next to unused changing stalls, umbrellas remained unopened and most sea-view cafes, which would have been packed with loud tourists just a month before, appeared shut down.
After a lunch at Castiglioncello, a hilly picturesque town with a Florentine-style castle, they went back to the boat and continued their journey. Alfredo opened a bottle of Champagne and the three of them sat on the deck, sipping the ice-cold, bubbly liquid, and enjoying the views.
Josephine could not help but notice that Julia and Alfredo were a lot more reserved than last night, no longer showing off their affection. She remembered that during lunch the two of them had stepped out for a few minutes for a private talk and Josephine, while she could not hear the words, could tell from their animated gestures that they were arguing about something. It was not her business, she told herself, and just looked at all the natural beauty surrounding her.
Julia was constantly giving her fiancé strange, suspicious looks and Alfredo seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. It did look as if they had an unresolved argument they could not continue in Josephine’s presence and could hardly wait to get back to the villa to do just that.
“Shall we start heading back?” Alfredo asked and looked at the sky. “It looks like it’s going to start raining pretty soon. Look at that dark cloud over there.’’
Julia finished her glass in one gulp and did not say anything.
“Honey?” Alfredo addressed her directly. "Didn't you hear me?"
“Do whatever you want,’’ Julia finally responded and filled another glass, her hand trembling from the boat's motions. She sounded slightly drunk.
“Very well,’’ he said in an irritated tone of voice and climbed the cockpit again, mumbling something in Italian under his breath.
The weather became noticeably colder. Alfredo remained in the cockpit while Josephine and silent, unhappy Julia, wrapped in a blanket to keep warm, sat on the after deck in the lee of the higher cockpit.
“Josephine, can you come up here, please?” Alfredo called over the sound of the engine, inviting the young woman to climb to the cockpit.
“I need your help. Did you manage a boat before?” the Italian asked in a much quieter voice when Josephine came close.
“No, sorry. I would have no idea what to do,’’ she responded, speaking directly to his ear.
“Ok. Just hold the wheel like this for a few minutes, don’t make any sharp moves. I need to talk to Julia for two minutes. Can you do that?” Alfredo asked.
“I guess. It doesn’t look very difficult. Just keep an eye on me in case I do something stupid,’’ Josephine responded and took the wheel from Alfredo.
“Thanks," was his response as he went down, firmly holding a short rail, and sat down next to Julia. Josephine assumed the role of the captain, if only for a few minutes. It was getting dark.
With evening quickly approaching, the sea changed its colour from aquamarine to almost grey.
The sound of the engine was somehow louder in the cockpit and Josephine could not hear what his aunt and her lover were talking about. She turned back briefly and, like in a silent movie, saw the two of them engaged in a very animated but unheard conversation with lots of hand waving and finger pointing.
She turned back and concentrated on holding the wheel exactly like Alfredo had asked her. A minute later she thought he overheard a sound over the engine exhaust noise and the yacht gave a noticeable lurch. She looked behind again and saw the red-faced Alfredo slightly bent at the knees to hold his balance. His hand was on his cheek as if he’d just been slapped and, judging by Julia’s venomous facial expression, he most certainly had been. A moment later the Italian squeezed his lover’s shoulders and shook her violently, pushing her against the rail surrounding the after deck, trying at the same time not to fall over himself.
“Hey, what are you doing…” Josephine began screaming at the top of her lungs and, for a brief second, lost her hold on the wheel. She quickly grabbed it again and levelled the vessel, but not before it rocked violently to the left and then to the right. When she turned around again there was no sign of Julia anywhere. Alfredo was sitting on the floor, a strange expression on his face. Next to him were Julia’s large dark glasses.
The Italian rose to his feet and swiftly climbed to the cockpit, rudely pushed Josephine aside, almost knocking her off her feet, and stopped the engine.
“What did I tell you about holding the wheel, idiot?!!” Alfredo shouted, his handsome, male model’s face distorted by anger, his fists clenched. “She toppled over the stern into the water!”
“I… I’m not sure… I saw you hit her,” Josephine mumbled in her defence.
Alfredo did not answer. He was looking at the sea around the boat, trying to spot any sign of Julia.
“Ju-li-a! Ju-li-a!!!” he screamed in desperation. “Do you see her?!”
They ran up and down the boat like madmen. They even looked inside the cabin in a vain hope she may have fell there when the yacht tilted. Then Alfredo saw a black object on the water about twenty meters away - it was Julia’s floppy hat! Almost without thinking he jumped in the cold water and swiftly, with the confident, automatic moves of a professional swimmer, approached the area.
He lifted the hat, looked around, and finally saw Julia's body, floating face down just a few meters away. He turned her over and screamed. Her left shoulder and half of her neck had been completely chopped off by the boat’s propeller blades when she fell overboard. There was so much blood the water in a two-meter diameter around her looked brownish black.
Josephine helped him lift the body back on the boat and they covered it with a large towel. Her beautiful face, which remained completely intact, had an eerily calm expression. Most likely it happened so quickly she did not even feel anything - or so Josephine wanted to think, as if it made that much of a difference to their predicament.
They sat silently for a long time, the enormity of what had happened slowly settling in. Josephine did not dare utter a word. Yes, she did not hold the wheel well enough and was ultimately responsible, but she did see Alfredo trying to push Julia. None of this would have happened if he wasn’t pushing her! Was he trying to kill her? Even if he wasn’t, they did have a violent argument - there was no doubt about it!
“Now listen to me,’’ Alfredo finally spoke, sounding a lot calmer than one would have expected from him given the circumstances. “No one must know about it. Understand?”
“What do you mean?” Josephine asked in a trembling voice.
“What I mean is that I don’t want to ruin my life because of your stupidity,’’ Alfredo explained forcefully.
“It wasn’t my fault,’’ Josephine tried to protest, but Alfredo interrupted her.
“Shut up, moron. It was. And even if it wasn’t it would be your word against mine and we’ll both go under. I might be wrong about you, but you seem like a sensible enough girl. She’s dead already, she won’t come back if we report this accident to the police,’’ the Italian explained authoritatively.
“So… what are you suggesting?” Josephine asked. “We can’t just return to the villa and say we lost Julia somewhere along the way.”
“Servants are a problem, but I think I have a plan. If you don’t do anything stupid, it will definitely work. I’ll take care of the body - you don’t seem like the kind anyway - but you have a much more important part to play,’’ Alfredo said.
“What part? What do you mean?” Josephine asked.
Alfredo gave a dramatic pause and said: “The part of Julia, stupid. You look enough like her, even she noticed that.’’
“But, what do you mean? This is ludicrous! It will never work,” Josephine responded, shocked that Alfredo could even suggest such a plan.
“You are an actress; can’t you play your own aunt? I am offering you the best option to escape prison. Or, at the very least, years upon years of legal problems. Do you want to ruin your career forever? I certainly don’t,” Alfredo continued confidently. It did sound as if he already had the full plan ready in his head. “Furthermore, it’s going to be very dark when we return. We only need it for a short while. I’ll get rid of the servants after we return and then we’ll decide how we proceed from there.”
“I am sorry, but that sounds crazy. Even if I fool the servants at night, Julia can’t just disappear later,’’ Josephine tried to protest.
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. I have some ideas, but they would require your full cooperation. Remember, we are now in the same boat, both literally and figuratively,’’ Alfredo continued. “So, are you going to prison or helping me to help you - and me?”
“I… I still don’t like the plan, but when you put it like this… Ok, let’s give it a try. As long as I leave this place on Monday and you take care of the rest,” Josephine responded quietly.
“Very well. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do. But sometimes you must make hard decisions,’’ Alfredo concluded and restarted the engine. “It’s less than an hour before dark, let’s keep moving.”
For future reference, it's usually best to avoid giving two characters a name that starts with the same letter like Julia and Josephine because it's needlessly confusing.
ReplyDeleteAlso, unless I am reading this wrong, it appears that "Alberto" turns into "Alfredo" and then back again.
Not sure how one can confuse Julia and Josephine, Alfredo and Alberto on the other hand... Thank you so much, fixed the name confusion so should now be good here as well as in the full book itself. It was meant to be Alfredo throughout, no idea how Alberto got there...
DeleteAs the author, you will have spent a lot of time with your story and characters so you will have gotten to know them quite well. I was just introduced to everyone, along with their backstories, relationships and motivations. It can be a lot to take in and I had some trouble remembering which one was which. I get that it's not *that* hard, but it did slow me down.
DeleteTo me, "Josephine" sounds a name for an older woman while a "Julia" is more befitting for a younger girl. According to babycenter, Josephine is definitely more of a grandma name as it's popularity peaked 100 years ago and then dropped off a cliff. Meanwhile, Julia saw a recent upswing in use from about 1990-2010.
Your conceptions may vary, of course, depending on when and where you were born.
How the hell did I miss that! Name confusion is quite common in web posted stories (ie mostly amateur efforts) but I'm usually sensitive to them. The most common confusion is swapping names in conversations which can be a problem for the story flow but changing a character's name also happens, sadly. The selection of names (ie Julia v Josephine) just never crossed my mind - but then, I'm old :)
DeleteAnyway, I hope you enjoyed the story despite your reservations. I was pleased to help in a small way but to Camille goes the greatest honour by far, it was, after all, her ideas and creation.
R
It's good that was spotted early on though. Thanks, Hello. Like Robyn, I have no idea how I could have missed that after reading the bloody thing so many times! Anyway, it's now been fixed and I uploaded a new version to Smashwords and Amazon. The former is OK now, the latter may take up to 3 days (but normally takes less) before it replaces the old version with the new. Once that happens, whoever bought it already will get the updated version. Sorry for that, my only consolation is that the history of publishing has seen far worse offences of the "how on earth could they miss that" variety.
DeleteYou forgot about Alfonso )))
ReplyDeleteAnd Adolfo too!
Delete“Welcome… muwah… Look at you… muwah,’’
ReplyDeleteI did a double take on this sentence because it took me a couple of seconds to realize that "muwah" is intended to be a lip smacking sound. This shouldn't be in the quotation because she's not actually saying it. Put these in italics and outside the quotation if you must include them.
I think it's fine. You can actually "say" that coquettishly as in making an exaggerated kissing sound without kissing anyone (to save one's make up, for example). That was the meaning I was trying to get across, sorry that confused you, if only for a couple of seconds.
DeleteMy apologies for being blunt, but you completely botched the most important part of the story, narratively speaking. The scene where Josephine is convinced to take her aunt’s place has to be done with finesse because if you don’t get it absolutely right, you run the risk of turning the story into a farce. It would be very easy to jump the shark at this moment, so you have to make sure you tread lightly.
ReplyDeleteIn the span of a couple sentences, Josephine starts conspiring with a man she barely knows to cover up her aunt’s death while the body is still warm. It’s so ham-handed, you’d think it was the setup to “Weekend at Julia’s” where they proceed to prop up her dead body so that people think she’s still alive. The scene is lacking in any subtlety or grace. It’s all, “Hey, I just met you and this is crazy, but you totally just killed your aunt and now you have to be her.”
You needed to give Josephine a compelling reason to not only agree to a cover up, but also to trust this man and go along with his plan. There’s nothing of substance here for any of that. Put yourself in her shoes. Someone you just met wants to bury your family member in a shallow grave while you go back to their home and pretend to be them. Under what circumstances would you be ok with that? Because they were kind of insistent that you do so? Not good enough.
There were better ways of setting up this premise that wouldn’t have required you to be a master wordsmith who can carefully navigate the complexities of using a boating accident as a means to thrust change on Josephine. You did poorly, but it was also extremely hard. Getting her from point a to point b realistically would necessitate a lot of dialogue and soul searching. That’s probably not ideal for this type of novel because people could care less about that stuff.
Maybe Julia could have fallen into a coma while undergoing routine plastic surgery and a double was needed to ensure that some very important financial papers get signed. Josephine wouldn’t need nearly as much convincing to do that, especially if she thought that she had Julia’s best interest at heart. I won’t pretend that I know best, but you’ve got to give us something to explain her behavior. The way you set things up was absurd and unbelievable.
I suspect that things may not be what they seem, but because of how poorly this was handled I can’t say that I am interested in finding out. This is one of those moments where you set the book down and shake your head. I understand that this is not meant to be anything more than it is and have set my expectations accordingly. Yet even by those low standards, this is bad, like ‘I’ve never written a story before’ bad. Your editor should have told you that this was unacceptable. I am sorry for the harsh words and would prefer not to hurt your feelings, but that is my 100% honest opinion on the matter.
Dear ..., thank you for your honest opinion. No apologies needed. People do a lot of things that seem completely irrational and unbelievable, especially when under stress. There were ways to handle that differently, but I disagree that my version is particularly absurd (or I might have read my favourite "World's dumbest criminals" collection too much). I am really sorry you feel this way, but thank you for such a detailed response.
DeleteYou make some interesting comments. I wonder if you could point us to one of your own stories so we could see how it should be done better and by a more competent writer? It would certainly help me in any future editing I might do either for Camille or others.
DeleteR
I would not presume to hold up anything I could write as the example by which to follow. I could say that I liked The Lesson Plan by Tiffani Andrews, which has a similar sort of theme. I remember it fondly, but it’s been several years since I last read it.
DeletePlease keep in mind that my criticism is restricted solely to this particular piece of plotting. The entire breadth of the material is not deserving of such scorn, just the exchange between Alfredo and Josephine. I do not believe the gravity of the situation was properly conveyed in their conversation. Why is Julia’s death such a big problem for Josephine that it would compel her to act out of character?
The answer, according to Alfredo, is that Josephine may be sent to prison, be subjected to legal trouble and/or her acting career would be ruined. Those are decent enough reasons, but they have to be earned to be effective. Josephine’s acting career is about as dead as Julia, so she doesn’t have much to lose. This threat would weigh much more heavily upon her if she were a famous actress. For prison to be a sufficient cause for concern, it would help if she were on probation and any involvement in an accident like this would look bad. That might get someone to wear a dead person’s clothes.
If the seriousness of the offense is not adequately imparted then the threat of discovery will not have the intended effect. That’s why this scene just doesn’t work.
I've never read The Lesson Plan, found it on Fictionmania. Let me check it out, looks interesting even though it seems it's only part 1 of an unfinished story.
DeleteLet me disagree with you. I am not claiming what I have in this story is the best plot device out there, but you criticism comes across as largely unwarranted. Why do you think a risk of prison in a foreign country is not a reason enough to worry? It would be for most people. May be if Josephine were alone, she would have gone to the police, but with Alfredo (and his side of the story) around? Surely, if Julia were a celebrity and/or on probation like you suggest that would make the situation a lot more pressing for her, but I don't think this additional layer of uncertainty for the heroine is really needed. She's under stress and she's on a boat with a man she barely knows (and who may have just (unwittingly?) killed her aunt). Why is going along with his plan absurd or unreasonable? She may think she can go to the police once she's safely ashore and gives this whole situation more thought. Would it make more sense to argue with him for a chapter or two before finally agreeing? I just don't see how adding more background and/or bickering between the two would enhance the plot. I think it will just drag the story by adding nothing to it.
Italy is one of those scary foreign countries? It’s part of the E.U. and Josephine has visited there in the past. Alfredo even has a comment where he says that the Italian police probably aren’t that different from the U.K. police.
DeleteI thought it was perhaps unfair that I should be making assumptions based on only the first three chapters so I went ahead and purchased your book to see if any of my criticisms would be assuaged later on. They were not. Here is my full review:
The plot is as brainless as the protagonist. Josephine has about as much agency as a small child. She does whatever she is told and rarely questions anything. It is amazing how effortlessly Alfredo gently guides her into becoming her aunt. Apparently, it’s easier to get tons of plastic surgery than it is to fire two servants. The story is practically non-existent. After the accident, pretty much nothing of consequence happens. There’s only a couple of events that aren’t just scene after scene of Alfredo telling Josephine how she has to do this because of that. While Josephine physically transforms over the course of the “story”, her character doesn’t change one bit. There’s almost no rising action to speak of. The tension peaks in the third chapter and is flat the rest of the way. There are a few bumps in the road toward the end, but these minor inconveniences are treated as major roadblocks for the characters. The attempt at a romance is short and ill-advised. Alfredo doesn’t sweep Josephine off her feet. Instead, he negs her for chapter after chapter. The only reason they have sex is because Josephine doesn’t want to make a fuss and wake the neighbors while he is sexually assaulting her. She sort of falls for him for some reason but it doesn’t really matter because the story is soon over. It’s hard for me to care about Josephine because she’s completely passive throughout the entire story. She is mostly indifferent to everything and makes no effort to effect any change. Whatever happens happens and that’s fine by her.
I won’t post my thoughts on Amazon because of how negative they are. I would ask that you do better next time. You can write well, so improving can be as easy as soliciting beta readers that can give you additional feedback.
After having read the book, I can say with certainty that having Julia fall into a coma during plastic surgery would have fixed many of my complaints. Alfredo would be less of a scumbag if he and Josephine were working together to help save Julia’s money. This would also allow their relationship to blossom naturally. It wouldn’t be him pressuring her over and over again, she’d want to do her best too. Having Julia suddenly wake up could have introduced some much needed drama. For a darker turn, maybe the girl who altruistically sacrificed her youthful body to save her aunt’s fortune decides to pull the plug on her because she doesn’t want her to wake up. That would have been a nice conclusion to Josephine’s character arc, as opposed to not having one in the original story.
I would like to take back one thing I said. I was mistaken in my claim that this did not aspire to be anything more than it is. I thought your intent was to be provocative, but I see that this title is categorized as crime fiction of the mystery, thriller and suspense variety. That makes it so much worse. Inadequacies in the plot and characters can be overlooked if you excel at exciting the senses. I feel bad for the bookworms who will stumble upon this when searching for new crime novels because it is legitimately terrible by those standards. They would have every right to request a refund after reading it.
DeleteOh, give it a rest for God's sake!
DeleteIt's a fictional story that you didn't like. We all understand that, but now you've made your point perhaps it's time to STFU and go away?
I read the story and I thought it was well written, though I think that the dark intent of Alfredo could have been carried further, especially if Justine was less of a willing partner. Perhaps multiple surgeries, carried out over time. Perhaps have some of the alterations be unexpected, or even drugging her and having her wake up to find out she has been changed. I find the terror of the victim at realizing, that their skin is now that of a 50 year woman, or that crows feet or other wrinkles have been added to her face etc. can be a powerful mental image to plant in the reader's mind. Perhaps she doesn't realize that Alfredo is slipping her aging drugs that are changing her skin, or causing her face to wrinkle or breasts to sag. Perhaps Julia's will was written to give all her money to Justine, and Alfredo had other plans. Overall though the story was well worth the price and the read. I guess my tastes trend more dark, toward an unwilling victim, and a more drawn out transformation. Keep writing though, well done.
ReplyDeleteTo my credit, at least I didn't call her "Justine" once. I have to say I am not a huge fan of transformation that is completely forced, but I see your point. It is also very hard to balance the plot and the actual transformation. Like you, I like transformation to be gradual and spaced out. I'll keep writing, don't worry. Thank you very much for your feedback.
DeleteMY tastes differ in exactly the opposite direction,so there is no way Camille could satisfy both of us...I need a transformation to be driven by the willingness of the transformee to keep going further.I can not be pleased by a story of involuntary misery.
DeleteI just read purchased the story as well and while I don't think it was quite as bad as some readers here, I think it could have used more in the way of plot though. The transformation was interesting, but very little else really happens in the story. You have your first major plot point, but no second plot point, the story just kinda goes up, plateaus and then peters out. Perhaps the addition of an actual adversary that was actually trying to expose or undermine Jo/Julia would be helpful, especially if Alfredo remains a love interest/mentor/sidekick.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Areader. I agree this is hardly my most plot-heavy story. My focus was on transformation and adjustment to the new role. I guess it didn't work for some, but I hope it did for others. Will keep that in mind when I work on my next piece.
DeleteMy apologies about the calling your character Justine. No offense was intended, I don't type well and sometimes I get rushed while trying to translate ideas into the keyboard. Good luck with your future works.
ReplyDeleteNo apologies needed! I just thought that was ironic given that I'd had the Alberto/Alfredo confusion myself.
DeleteThe story is, as previous stories, well written and interesting. I read it with pleasure and without having the impression to lose my time. Concerning points that readers would like to be different, it is a question of personal preferences.
ReplyDeleteI have to admit that I still don't understand the discussion about Alfredo and Alberto. Alberto is the lawyer and Alfredo the plastic surgeon.
Camille, I hope, as a previous reader, that you continue to write and publish stories. I'm sure you can make the difference between usefull und useless critics, and I don't doubt that your stories will become better and better.
Thank you very much. I am very glad you found it enjoyable. There was an early Alberto/Alfredo confusion that was entirely my fault. It's been swiftly dealt with so the version out there is fine now.
DeleteNice flow of events and good transformation. It was an easy read and well...interesting. I think the plot was ok and with a few minor changes it could go from average to very good.
ReplyDeleteThe above criticism is hard to ignore. But you have to keep an open mind. You can't satisfy everyone at the same time. While you tried your best, everyone has a different taste.
I hope you continue to publish. I have no doubt that your works will improve and you'll make many new fans.
Cheers, Asif. I am actually quite open to criticism even if I disagree with many of the points. I've always tried to write stories "for myself" - sometimes that matches other people's expectations, sometimes not so much. What can I say? I can only continue writing more in the hope that there will be a lot more cases of the former.
DeleteI'm hesitant to continue the beating up on this story. We should never waste our time decapitating the headless. I have to add though that I could barely manage to finish this excerpt. The descriptions of Julia were way too stereotyped and went on in way too much detail and length. If a writer is going to deal in stereotypes, a little goes a long way. If the passages describing Julia had been trimmed by half, the story would have had some kind of natural flow and better balance, though that probably couldn't have saved the story overall. The other two characters were also nothing more than stereotypes, but at least their descriptions didn't go on to unreadable lengths. (It gets perilously close with Josephine.)
ReplyDeleteOn a broader level, I'm puzzled by just what audience this story was meant to reach. As a crime/suspense story, there is zero suspense. It's clearly not a "lady2maid" story either. I'd put it in the conte cruel genre, or, more broadly the Gothic melodrama, but if that's what the author was aiming for, she packaged it very inappropriately, so the story will mostly find unreceptive readers.
Robyn,
ReplyDeleteYou asked me to point you in the right direction or to show you how another author might have gone about things. I recently remembered a book that may be of interest to you. The name can be found in the link below. I didn’t want to write it here and potentially spoil someone’s enjoyment of it.
https://pastebin.com/xhjGeuan
Speaking generally, it is about a missing person in a confined area. The catch is that everyone is accounted for when a search is conducted at the urging of the sole witness to this person’s disappearance. They want to uncover the truth, but as far as everyone else is concerned there is nothing to find because it is all in their head.
In the end, it is revealed that someone did go missing, just not the person they were looking for all this time. It is very much the story of [Act Your Age: Becoming Her Aunt], albeit one that is told from a different perspective. While the transformative elements are only temporary and they occur in the background, I think this other book presents some ideas for the types of challenges the characters in this situation could have been made to overcome.
Well i for one can find no fault in the way these chapters read, the criticisms about them are in my opinion wrong.
ReplyDeleteWhether you disliked the chapters, the plot etc these are just personal to yourself, the same way i read other vaunted authors work and quickly come to the conclusion they are not for me, however i most definitely would not seek to be critical of them.
Camille of course does not need me to stand in defence of her work, however i feel very protective of all the authors on Lady2maid, their literary works are viewed by myself with much love and gratitude, this is in addition to the hard work that Camille herself puts in both as author and managing this wonderful blog, thank you Camille for your efforts.
As the famous quote goes “You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”.
Thank you, Betsy. This blog wouldn't be what it is without readers like you and writers like Jackie J, Monica Graz, T.H. Enerdly, Andy Engines, SW and many others.
DeleteHi Camille.
ReplyDeleteI purchased your book and have just finished the first read, value for money I enjoyed the story. I cannot comment much on here so as not to ruin it for those who have not got a copy yet!
Loved it thanks
Hugs and Kisses
Jackie J
XXX
Great you loved it, thanks!
Delete