Maddy Again
Page 18
‘Why, we had breakfast just after six,’ wailed Maddy.
With the heat and the thought of no break for food tempers began to fray, and eventually Miss Tibbs and Madame Lefèvre were dispatched to buy a picnic lunch. They returned with miniature loaves of crusty bread, butter, cheese, fruit, beer in funny little tin cans for the men, and a bottle of wine for the women, and some very strange mineral water for Maddy. They made their way to the Luxembourg Gardens by car and taxi, and there they relaxed luxuriously in the shade under a tree. At least everyone did except Bill and Charles, and they kept interrupting their lunch to take shots of people eating. But Morgan Evans was tireless; as soon as the last crumb was finished he insisted that they must press on.
‘We can get some terrific shots with these pieces of statuary and the lovely long avenue to the Palace. It’s a pity it’s not in colour—the flowers are so wonderful.’
Before they had taken all the shots that presented themselves it was time to make for the air terminal, but there was luggage to be collected from the hotel where the unit stayed.
‘We’re cutting it very fine,’ said Morgan Evans. ‘If we miss the airway bus we’ll have to race to Orly by taxi.’
They had already spent a small fortune on taxis that day. The Lefèvres came to the airport to see them off, and while they were going through the passport and Customs sheds they went out on to the airfield to look at the plane.
This time Maddy knew what ‘Rien à déclarer?’ meant and announced, ‘Rien, pas de temps,’ which rather puzzled the Customs officer.
When they said goodbye to the Lefèvres Maddy made them promise to come to Fenchester and stay with her if they ever came to England.
‘Then we shall have more time to talk,’ she said. ‘This has all been such a rush.’
Morgan Evans thanked them formally for all the trouble they had taken, and told them that the firm would reimburse them.
‘No, no, no,’ objected Madame Lefèvre. ‘All we should wish is to see some photos of the little ones.’
‘Of course you shall,’ Morgan Evans assured her. ‘And now, goodbye.’
The Lefèvres stood waving, and as they boarded the plane Maddy felt quite sad at having to wave goodbye.
Bill and Charles were being very nippy, getting shots of the Lefèvres and of Maddy and Sunny, all waving.
‘Come on,’ called Morgan Evans at last, ‘or you’ll miss the plane.’
‘Wish we could,’ cried Bill, as they came up the gangway, which was immediately wheeled away almost from under their very feet.
‘Bon voyage,’ shouted the Lefèvres.
‘Au revoir,’ shouted Maddy.
And then the plane door was shut and it was very difficult to see out of the windows.
As soon as they had taken off, tea or coffee and cakes were served, and when these were disposed of the entire unit fell fast asleep, and did not wake until they landed.
Maddy was so tired she could scarcely keep awake to go through the Customs. Morgan Evans took her back to Fitzherbert Street in a taxi, quite alarmed that he had tired her out to such a degree.
‘You’re sure you’ll be all right for rehearsal tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Maddy. ‘I’m going straight to bed.’
She could not even be bothered to tell Mrs Bosham all her adventures, but just fell into bed and slept the clock round. She was wakened by Mrs Bosham shaking her shoulder and saying, ‘Wake up, do; I’ve been calling you this last hour. You’ll be late for rehearsal if you don’t look out. Here’s your breakfast—I think it’s cruel to make you rehearse today. What are you going to rehearse anyway, if it was all filmed?’
Maddy couldn’t tell her, for she herself didn’t know. This week’s rehearsal turned out to be very strange indeed. That day, which was only Wednesday, although they seemed to have been away for weeks—they merely discussed the script with Miss Tibbs. The following day they went into a tiny projection theatre, just like a miniature cinema, and saw the rushes of the film that had just been taken. They seemed very jumbly and did not make much sense. By the following day they saw the cut version, which was all pieced together properly and did make sense, and Maddy practised reading the commentary that Miss Tibbs had been busy writing.
‘We’re not going to dub it on the film,’ said Morgan Evans. ‘It will sound more natural if you do it in the studio as you watch the film on the monitor.’
To time the words perfectly to the pictures was more difficult than Maddy had imagined it would be.
Saturday arrived in a flash. It had been arranged for Sunny to be interviewed after the Paris film. And for some reason this interview always reduced both of them to helpless giggles.
‘It’s no good,’ said Maddy. ‘I’ll never be able to ask her the usual questions without giggling. Can’t we just talk?’
‘Well,’ said Morgan Evans cautiously, ‘yes, but for goodness’ sake be careful what you say.’
‘You can’t suspend me this time,’ said Maddy wickedly, ‘because it’s the last one anyhow.’
‘I can pull your pigtails, though,’ said Morgan Evans, and did so sharply.
There was quite a feeling of disappointment in the studio that the series was finishing. Even one of the property men came up to Maddy and said, ‘Pity this is coming off. It’s a good little show. One of the best we’ve got. Still, there’s a rumour it’s coming back in the spring.’
Maddy’s heart lifted. If the prop men had heard that, then it must be true.
‘Don’t do any worse than you’ve done up till now, and we shall be seeing more of you, Miss Fayne,’ said Morgan Evans just before the transmission.
Maddy got through the commentary very well. It was lovely seeing all the shots of Paris, and occasionally she put in an aside and a giggle, when she remembered anything funny that had happened.
The musical interlude was a respite for her, and after that she had to interview a young Javanese girl who was on the staff of The World of Youth.
By then the worst was over, and the last few minutes were just a little chat with Sunny, in which they recalled some of the amusing things that had happened during the run of the series. At the end of it, to Maddy’s surprise, Sunny kissed her warmly on both cheeks saying, ‘Well, goodbye, honey, I wouldn’t have missed it for all the world. And so long, all you other young ’uns,’ she said to the camera.
Maddy was left to make the final announcement, and she felt quite choky as she did so. Then the transmission lights on the cameras faded, and Maddy had a strange feeling that she too was fading away.
But then she pulled herself together and remembered that all this had just been pretence—shadows on a screen—and on Monday she would be returning to home and real life, in Fenchester.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PAMELA BROWN (1924–1989) was a British writer, actor, then television producer. She was just fourteen when she started writing her first book, and the town of Fenchester in the book is inspired by her home town of Colchester. During the Second World War, she went to live in Wales, so her first book, The Swish of the Curtain, was not published until 1941, when she was sixteen. She used the earnings from the books to train at RADA, and became an actor and a producer of children’s television programmes.
COPYRIGHT
Pushkin Press
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Copyright © 2018 The Estate of Pamela Brown
Maddy Again was first published in Great Britain, 1956
First published by Pushkin Press in 2019
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ISBN 13: 978–1–78269–194–5
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