The Perfect Location. Kate Forster

us,’ Kelly asked impulsively, although she already knew the answer.

      Rose smiled thinking of her and Kelly in London. Drinking, dancing, more drinking. God, they had had so much fun until Rose moved to Hollywood.

      ‘I don’t think so, the English paps are relentless.’ Rose claimed it was too much hassle on her family to come back to London with the constant media intrusion. The truth was that Rose had only been back a handful of times in fifteen years and only then for fleeting visits, staying in a suite at The Dorchester.

      Shooting The Italian Dream would give her the perfect opportunity to bring the Nightingales together in Italy on her own terms. When her agent was negotiating the deal, she had a number of villas to choose from. Rose chose the one with the most bedrooms on offer for her family and their brood.

      Lauren, her trusted assistant, had organized a myriad of inflatable toys to be FedExed over, so Rose’s nieces and nephews could play in the infinity pool looking over the endless hills of Umbria. She had also sent board games, dolls and books and had a Wii installed in the den, with a large flat screen TV and a huge selection of DVDs.

      ‘No, I can’t come back to London, I’m booked up till the middle of next year, so that’s why I wanted them to come to see me,’ said Rose. ‘Hey, I’m really looking forward to working with TG,’ she said, in an effort to change the subject quickly.

      ‘TG’s really excited to work with you too, he told Chris,’ said Kelly.

      ‘He’s a great guy, I’m surprised we’ve never worked together till now,’ said Rose.

      ‘TG’, as everyone in the industry called him, was Tim Galvin, the hottest young gun director in Hollywood. A teenage skateboarding world champion who became an NYC film graduate, he made his mark directing videos for some of the LA garage band scene. He shot his films quickly, used quick edits and loud soundtracks, he possessed a rare gift: he could create a happy film set. His best friend and Director of Photography was Chris Berman, Kelly’s husband.

      ‘He’s a good egg,’ said Kelly, ‘although he’s been around a lot since he and Lisa broke up. He’s a bit mopey, I need to find him a root.’

      ‘She was a piece of work,’ said Rose, mentioning TG’s ambitious actress girlfriend. ‘He’s better off without her. I only met her at your place but she was scary, like a reptile. He seemed sad at the audition, more low-key than usual although maybe he was nervous.’

      ‘Probably. I think he was amazed you agreed to audition but he said the studio wanted to see all the women.’

      ‘Oh God, I don’t mind auditioning,’ laughed Rose. ‘Puts me back in my box, reminds me that the fame is fleeting.’

      ‘’Tis true, ’tis true,’ said Kelly. ‘So, call me when you arrive, yeah? I miss you like crazy, Tosser.’

      ‘Love you too, Slapper. Call me every five minutes,’ said Rose, giggling at the use of their old names for each other.

      Rose settled down in the chair and opened her script. She already knew her lines but she always liked to do as much work as possible. As she read the scenes between her and her on-screen lover, she wondered who it would be. Her agent Randy said that the role wasn’t cast yet but she was so keen to be a part of the film, she signed on without knowing who would take the role opposite her. For a brief moment she panicked it might be Paul but then she dismissed it with a silent laugh. There was no way the universe or TG would be cruel enough to cast her ex-husband, she thought.

      Rose stared out the window, watching the planes take off and land. The LA smog was settling in over the city and she hoped it would not affect the flight. She despised lateness and lived by a rigid schedule. Organization gave her a sense of control.

      A text message came through on her iPhone from her equally organized assistant, Lauren: Car service will pick you up on arrival and drive you to the villa. If you get stuck then call Guilia, TG’s assistant. I have keyed number into your phone.

      Rose already had this information printed out neatly on her letterhead, tucked away safely in her iris calf leather Smythson travel wallet. But she appreciated Lauren’s attention to detail and concern.

      Rose poached Lauren from the director, Jerry Hyman, who Rose was shooting a film with after her divorce from Paul. Daily she had watched him berate Lauren and abuse her in front of the crew. His constant comments about her weight, sexual innuendos and the ridiculous demands that she had to fulfil became painful for everyone to watch. Rose saw Lauren losing her self-esteem, wanting to please the obese tyrant and failing at every turn. Towards the end of shooting, she took her lunch tray over to sit with Lauren who was typing on the computer, with five mobile phones in front of her. Each one was labelled neatly in Dymo labels: Home, Studio, LA, NY, Other.

      Rose put her tray aside and sat down. Lauren looked up, surprise registered on her face. ‘Um. Hi,’ she said.

      ‘Hi, yourself,’ replied Rose sunnily. ‘How are things?’

      Lauren looked at the screen, ‘Fine, fine, Jerry’s very busy. I’ve always got something to do.’

      Rose looked at the phones. ‘So, let me guess,’ she said as she picked up the phones and laid them out in front of her. ‘Home is the wife and kids. LA is his agent and the studio. NY is his dealer. And Other is his whores. How did I do?’

      Lauren looked shocked, and then pulled herself together. ‘No, no, entirely wrong.’ Rose smiled and bit into her apple.

      Lauren went back to typing, feeling unnerved by Rose’s correct guesses about Jerry’s many phones. The stars never talked to her. Granted, Rose seemed nicer than most. Just that morning she had raised her eyebrows comically at Lauren when the director went on one of his tirades at Lauren because his latte was too hot.

      Looking at Lauren’s eyes twitch and her mouth tighten, Rose wondered what the notorious director had done to her. She knew his reputation; he liked to dominate women in every way. Rose herself was too much of a class act and too outspoken for his tastes. He liked them young, thankful and ambitious.

      Rose pondered a little longer then said casually, ‘Anyway, I have a job opening. I really need an assistant. They need to be super organized. I like lists and Apple Macs.’ She stared disdainfully at the PC Lauren was working on. ‘I only have one mobile phone, so that may be a put-off to any potential applicants. I can offer them their own office, a BMW and I promise to never hit them with a phone. I will not make them do ridiculous jobs; I’m capable of buying my own tampons. I need help with schedules, Christmas and birthday lists, help with some of the charities that I work with. And someone to field the media and my agent.’ She smiled at Lauren and walked away. Always leave them wanting more, she thought, as she felt Lauren’s eyes on her.

      That evening, after speaking to Lauren on set, Rose found Lauren’s professional CV and cover letter expressing her interest in the job on hotel stationery, slipped under her hotel room door. Rose smiled when she opened the envelope; she knew Lauren was perfect for her.

      The boarding call sounded over the loudspeaker and Rose’s mind was brought back to the present. Rose walked to the desk, and handed her passport and boarding pass to the flight attendant. The girl took them with a smile and then passed them back to her. ‘Thank you, Ms Nightingale, your flight to Italy is boarding now.’

      Rose placed her passport in her bag and headed towards the plane. Italy, here I come, she thought, excited by the idea of living in a new country, even for a short amount of time.

      Rose arrived in Perugia reasonably relaxed, although feeling a little grimy. As predicted by the wonderful Lauren, her car was indeed waiting for her. Surprisingly, there were no paparazzi lurking around and Rose was relieved. I hope this continues, she thought, as she sank into the back seat of the Mercedes.

      When she arrived at the villa and got out of the car, the housekeeper stood on the front step, waiting to greet the surrogate grandchildren she assumed were coming from all the toys that