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Ariana huffed, picking up the brush once more, dragging it through her hair vigorously. One hundred brushes a day, that was what Yaya – her grandmother – had told her to do to keep her hair beautiful and silky. So what if she had asked to go to an English public school, she huffed to herself, suppressing the memory of the way she’d badgered and nagged at them for months about it.

For the first few terms, it had been fun. She’d found it a relief to be away from her parents, who could never be together without arguing, so they spent most of their time in different parts of the world. Her mother had immediately moved to London to be nearer to her, but whenever she went to visit her at her Chelsea townhouse, Sofia was usually preoccupied with one of her lovers or lunching with friends at Harvey Nichols or Cipriani’s.

It hadn’t taken long for Ariana to become bored with the school. Most of the English girls were alike, they all had long blonde hair and fathers who were investment bankers or peers who spent their days in the House of Lords. There were a few exceptions, girls like her who didn’t want to marry a prince. Her best friend Maddy, or the Honourable Lady Madeleine Dorchester, was one of them. They’d discovered they were kindred spirits – Ariana doubted there was anyone else at the school who knew how to catch tuna with a line, or could free dive up to fifty feet. As the second daughter of a English Lord, Maddy had been raised in a ramshackle stately home in Derbyshire by a succession of nannies until she was bundled off to public school when she was nine. By the time she arrived at Marlborough, she was already a wild child. Ariana quickly became her willing disciple. Eventually, they were both caught smoking weed, and while Ariana had taken the punishment of a suspension and the loss of all her privileges with a shrug, Maddy had gone completely off the rails. Still only sixteen years old, she ran off with a musician. Rumour had it her parents eventually tracked her down to a squat in Camden Town, where she was living in squalor and hooked on hard drugs. Ariana had never heard from her again.

For Ariana, her father’s disappointment at her suspension had been the worst part. She’d tried to be a dutiful daughter after that and to focus on her studies, but it was so boring. Now he wanted her to go to a good university, but all she wanted to do was stay on Ithos. She had everything she needed here. Her old friends down in the harbour town, her grandmother who let her do exactly as she pleased, and her father – who she loved, but who didn’t understand her … OK, so she missed the shops of London and Paris and New York, but how many clothes did a girl need?

Of course, the one thing that Ithos really had in its favour was Christian, Níko and Teresa’s son. Ariana smiled dreamily at the thought of his blue eyes and hair the colour of golden sand. His sister was already married with two children, but Christian was still a bachelor. All he needed was a push in the right direction, she figured. Her father treated Christian like the son he’d never had, so he was bound to want him as a son-in-law, wasn’t he? She imagined herself on her wedding day – the hundreds of guests, the tradition of wearing stefana crowns, the dancing afterwards … For a moment her anger at her father was forgotten as she imagined him walking in the bridal procession alongside her, his face full of pride as she shone with radiance in her beautiful dress.

The thought cheered her up and Ariana smiled to herself. She’d get her grandmother to plait her hair for her and then she would go down and see Christian. It was well into the afternoon and, if she was lucky, Christian would be back at the harbour after working with her father at the boathouse on the other side of the island.

Ariana padded over to her walk-in wardrobe. When her mother and father were first married, her mother had insisted on a complete remodelling of the Theodosis villa if she were to live there. A new wing had duly been added. It was modern compared to the rest of the villa, which was still occupied by her grandmother. Ariana’s bedroom was more like an apartment, with a large en-suite bathroom, and a balcony that looked out over Ithos Bay and the harbour.

She eyed the long row of clothes, the Guccis, Alexander McQueens and Balenciagas all catalogued and arranged by colour. She tilted her head to the side; today she would be casual yet eye-catching, an outfit that showed a little of her taut and toned body, but not too much – just enough. Her eyes settled on a pink and cream boho-style beach dress, that criss-crossed over her bust and had a slit up the side to show off her legs. She might be nearly ten years younger than Christian, but this would grab his attention.

She slipped out of her strappy vest and shorts and caught sight of her naked body in the large full-length mirror, feeling pleased with what she saw. Her olive skin was now tanned and golden again after being hidden away in England all winter.

Yes, there was no way Christian would be able to ignore her today. He might have thought of her as a child before, but she was eighteen now and he was about to see just how much she had grown up.

Chapter 22

‘Come on, a touch more mascara.’

Shauna groaned and laughed. ‘It’s a good job I like you, Mel.’

‘You have to,’ said Mel, in her nasal New York accent with her usual sassy belligerence. She was as much a friend as co-worker. ‘I’m here to make you look good and if you piss me off …’ She raised her dark, finely plucked eyebrows in mock threat.

‘I’ll be on my best behaviour,’ Shauna promised.

It felt strange to look in the mirror and see Grace Kelly again, though she’d grown used to it during the months of filming at Pinewood Studios near London and on location in Europe. She had loved seeing herself transformed into her idol each day, mastering her voice and her mannerisms. There had been only one occasion when she faltered: the day they arrived at the Grimaldi palace. The place had barely changed since her first visit, and memories of that night in the summer of 1982, when a young Shauna O’Brien was presented to Princess Grace of Monaco, came flooding back. Chantelle’s parting words had echoed in her mind: One day, the pain will be gone, and you will have these precious memories. The memories were as vivid as ever, but she wasn’t sure the pain had gone. Shauna had pushed the memories away and focused only her work.

It had been her first time working with Spielberg and she was impressed by his technique, his ability to get what he wanted – all the actors got on well and Spielberg had taken such good care of her. Although it was draining being in every scene, Shauna rose above it to give the performance of a lifetime. Spielberg had put his heart and soul into the film, and she had done the same.

For the Love of Grace was still in post-production, with the release date still to be fixed, yet already there were whispers of Oscar nominations. The publicity machine wanted to exploit the rumours to full advantage, so today she was recreating the moment in 1955 when Grace had won her Best Actress Oscar.

Mel stood back and admired her work. ‘There, that’ll do, Grace. I’d better win an Oscar for this too.’

Shauna studied herself in the mirror and the soft gold of her hair swept up into a sophisticated chignon that emphasized her features. Mel had brought an elegance to her today which fitted the occasion. ‘I’m more than ten years older than Grace was when she retired from acting.’

‘The camera never lies,’ Mel told her.

There was a sharp rap at the door. ‘Ten minutes.’

‘That’s my cue.’ Shauna rose and pulled off the light silk dressing gown protecting her costume. It was as breathtaking as the original and for a moment she wondered what Princess Grace might have said to her if she were here. She took another look in the mirror at the faithful replica of the dress Grace Kelly had worn to the Oscars: a figure-hugging mint-green satin sheath with elegant spaghetti straps.

Outside, the photographer, Kevin, and his lighting assistant were waiting.

‘Hey, Shauna,’ Kevin threw down his clipboard and began to clap, ‘you look amazing.’

She inclined her head, still in her Grace persona, and smiled. ‘That mine?’ she asked, and picked up the replica gold Oscar being watched over by the young assistant. She turned around to face the camera and held it in the same pose as her idol had done forty-seven years previously. Then she let out a girlish laugh, herself once more.

‘I hear on the grapevine that you nailed it,’ Kevin said.

‘It went well,’ said Shauna, with a quiet smile of real satisfaction.

‘Ever the understatement. Rumour is, that production is hot.’

Shauna had heard it all before and although quietly confident in her performance, she knew anything could happen. Politics in Hollywood played a huge part in who won and who didn’t, which films the Academy took to their hearts and which they hated. It didn’t pay to make bets.