by Sam Short
“I promise I’ll wait until I bring it up with her,” confirmed Pepper, heading across the short grass towards Charlotte, who stood alongside Oswald’s blue estate car.
Charlotte smiled when Pepper arrived at her side. “You’ve caught the acting bug, have you? A lot of people do after being given a small role in a production. I must say, though, I’ve watched the scene you starred in a few times since it was recorded. You’re a very natural actress. You have a screen presence which normally only comes from years of experience.”
“Thank you,” said Pepper, as Charlotte held up a blanket which hid her from view while she slipped out of her clothes and into Mrs Banforth’s dress, being sure to slip her wand into the top of a stocking while Charlotte wasn’t looking.
“You’re welcome,” said Charlotte, taking a wig from the suitcase in the boot of the car. “Oh, and I’d like to say how sorry I am to have heard about what you went through with Stan. The policeman I spoke to at the allotments told me that your friend found poor Stan’s body and that you checked him for a pulse. It must have been awful for you.”
“It was,” agreed Pepper, eyeing Charlotte with disguised suspicion. “You spoke with a policeman at the allotments, you say? When was that Charlotte?”
Charlotte placed the wig on Pepper’s head and began making adjustments. “Not long after the poor man had had his accident,” she said. “The thing is, Stan was the owner of the car we’ve been using in the film. Then he and Oswald fell out, which isn’t hard — Oswald falls out with most people. Anyway, as a result of that falling out, Stan withdrew the use of his car. Oswald lost his temper and cancelled the film. He told us all to go home. I went back to my hotel and began packing, but then decided I’d try and save the film for all of us. I’d built up quite a friendship with Stan, you see — I acted as a liaison between Oswald and him, so I decided to approach him and try and persuade him to let us use his car. I knew Stan practically lived at the allotments, so I took a walk up there in the dark, through the woods on the hill.”
“Horseshoe woods,” said Pepper.
“I don’t know about the name. They were just spooky dark woods to me,” said Charlotte, applying makeup to Pepper’s cheeks. “Before I’d got to the top of the hill I could see flashing blue lights, and when I reached the road I saw an ambulance driving away and a police car parked next to the allotments. I asked the policeman inside what had happened, and he broke the awful news about Stan.”
“You didn’t drive to the allotments in Stan’s car?” asked Pepper, staring at Charlotte.
“No,” said Charlotte. “As I said, I walked. But then we, as a film crew, did something which I feel awfully guilty about. I telephoned Oswald and told him what had happened to Stan, and before I knew it, the film was back in production, and we were using a dead man’s car! Oswald has promised that we’ll return the car in tip-top condition, and he’ll donate some of the proceeds from the film towards some sort of memorial for Stan, but I still feel like what we’re doing is wrong. We all need the film to be completed, though, otherwise we won’t get our full pay. And as Oswald says, he’s still got a contract with Stan.”
Pepper took a deep breath and stared at the makeup artist. “Charlotte, do you know who drove Stan’s car on the evening he died? I think somebody drove it to the allotments.”
Charlotte shrugged. “It was all a big mess,” she said. “We’d been filming alongside the canal, and when Oswald spoke to Stan on the phone and lost his temper, he told us all to go home. We took him seriously and went our separate ways. The sound guys went to the pub with Brian I think. I went back to the hotel, but I think Jessica walked off in the direction of the car park in which we’d left Stan’s car. She enjoyed driving it, and the keys were mostly always in her possession.”
Pepper swallowed, and then looked towards Jessica who stood next to the Rolls Royce, her face blank and the shape of her body hidden by the loose hanging brown overalls of a wartime land girl. Then, Pepper ran her eyes down Jessicas’s body, to her feet, on which she wore large ugly wellington boots which appeared to be a few sizes too big for her small frame. “Boots,” murmured Pepper, under her breath. “Just like the grapevine told me.”
“Pardon?” said Charlotte, dabbing Pepper’s forehead with a makeup sponge.
“Nothing,” said Pepper, watching Jessica as she smiled at Brian. “I was thinking out loud.”
Chapter 33
As Pepper attempted to make sense of what Charlotte had told her, Oswald appeared alongside her. “Good news, Pepper! I have a part for you! We’re going to add a little scene which I think will add layers to the film! We’ll film you arriving at the airfield and edit it into the film after Emily has begun chasing Charles down the runway as he takes off into the sun. Then, as Emily watches him disappear into the sky, instead of her spotting the Spitfire returning, it will be Mrs Banforth who spots it as she’s consoling Emily with a hug! Then, Emily will get back in the car and drive towards the approaching Spitfire! It will be beautiful!”
“Okay,” said Pepper. “I can do that.”
Oswald pointed to a spot a few metres away and called the film crew to his side. “Stand there, Pepper, and try and look out of breath. Your bike is in the background, and from this distance, it could pass as a bike from the era in which our film is set. You’ve pedalled here quickly, wishing you’d said more to Charles before he’d left for war, but you were too late. Look both sad, and out of breath please, Pepper!” He looked at the cameraman. “Are we ready? We need this done quickly!”
The cameraman nodded.
“Then… action!” called Oswald, pointing at Pepper.
Thrown into the situation with hardly any warning, Pepper stalled for a moment, but then blew her cheeks out and gave three long gasps, exaggerating each breath she drew in. She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead for good measure, and then bent at the waist, placing her hands on her knees.
Aware that Oswald had given her no lines, Pepper spoke anyway, attempting to sound like a woman in turmoil. “I’m too late,” she sobbed. “Will I ever see him again?”
Oswald gave her a thumbs up, nodding enthusiastically, so Pepper continued, forming a fist with her right hand and waving it at the sky. “Give them hell, Charles! Show them that Dear Old Blighty is not to be trifled with!”
“And… cut!” shouted Oswald. He rushed towards Pepper, a wide smile on his face. “That was amazing, Pepper! Truly spectacular!” He pointed towards Jessica. “Now, go and stand next to Jessica and prepare for the next scene. Quickly. We’re low on time. All you need to do is hug her, and as she cries on your shoulder, you’ll gaze into the sky, point a finger, and say, ‘don’t cry, little potato picker, look behind you. It’s your pilot. He’s coming back for you.’
“Then, Jessica will get in the car and drive towards Brian who will be taxiing the Spitfire. Is everybody clear on what they’re doing? Are all the cameras in place? I need a camera in my car which will be following the Rolls Royce, and I need a camera in position to film the car and the plane side on as they meet.”
“Everything is ready to go, boss,” said a man holding a microphone. “Brian is at the controls of the plane, and all the cameras are ready to roll.”
“Then let’s go,” demanded Oswald. “Everybody into their positions!”
Having decided that confronting Jessica about her possible involvement in Stan’s death could wait until after filming was complete, Pepper did as Oswald asked, making her way towards Jessica, who offered her a meek smile. “Hello, Pepper,” she said.
Pepper smiled. “Hello, Jessica,” she replied, noting that the young lady’s eyes were devoid of the spark she’d noticed in them the last time she’d met her. In fact, it appeared as if she’d been crying.
“Okay!” shouted Oswald. “Hug each other, Jessica with her back to the direction in which the Spitfire would be coming from.”
Opening her arms for Jessica, Pepper studied the boots on the actress’s feet once more
. There was no doubt in her mind that the boots the grapevine had recalled were the very same boots which Jessica wore. Jessica must have driven the car to the allotments and got into an argument with Stan which had led to her pushing him.
Of that, Pepper had no doubt, but she did have doubts about how to broach the subject with the young woman. With none of what police would refer to as forensic evidence to back up her assumption, Pepper had nothing more than grainy film footage and the word of a plant to submit as her proof.
As Jessica wrapped her arms around Pepper and laid her head on her shoulder, Pepper became aware that the young woman was shaking. No, that was the wrong word. She was trembling, and as Oswald ordered them to prepare for action, she became aware that she was crying, too.
Unless Jessica was a remarkably accomplished actress, Pepper suspected that the tears she felt on her cheek were being shed for a more significant reason than good acting alone.
“Okay!” yelled Oswald, as a cameraman moved closer to Pepper and Jessica. “Get ready.” He paused for a few seconds. “And… action!”
Having always been told that if you’re going to do a job, it should be done properly, Pepper slipped into her role as the housekeeper of a Spitfire pilot and an older woman who a young land girl could turn to for comfort.
As Jessica sobbed into her shoulder, Pepper remembered her line and gazed into the empty sky. Guessing where an incoming aeroplane would appear if it were really approaching, she pointed at one of the only clouds in the sky and spoke in the clipped accent of a nineteen-forties housekeeper. “Don’t cry, little potato picker, look behind you. It’s your pilot. He’s coming back for you.”
Jessica sobbed louder, and her nails dug into Pepper’s back a little too deep. She spoke into Pepper’s shoulder. “No, he’s not,” she said. “He doesn’t love me.”
“Turn around and look along the runway, Jessica,” hissed Oswald from behind Pepper. “Then get in the car!”
“He doesn’t love me,” murmured Jessica, her small body shaking. “Brian doesn’t love me!”
“Brian doesn’t love you?” said Pepper, wondering if Jessica was ad-libbing. “Don’t you mean Charles?”
“No,” sobbed Jessica. “Brian doesn’t love me. I’ve spent the last few weeks waiting for this scene today. The scene in which I could finally kiss him. I’ve dreamt about it every night, and I thought Brian felt the same, but this morning he informed me that when we kiss on screen, he wanted it to be done in one take because he hasn’t been looking forward to it. I’m broken, Pepper. I can’t go on!”
“What do you mean, you can’t go on?” said Pepper.
Suddenly, Jessica pulled away from Pepper and stared at her, tears rolling down her cheeks. “If I can’t have him, nobody can!” she hissed under her breath, not loud enough for anybody but Pepper to hear. “Goodbye, Pepper. Maybe Brian will love me when we’re both dead.” She turned her back and hurried to the Rolls Royce, the engine of which was already running.
As Jessica slammed the door closed, Oswald broke into applause. “Beautiful!” he shouted. “Now go, Jessica, and remember to aim for the white paint marks we’ve sprayed on the runway. If you aim at those, you won’t run the risk of colliding with the aeroplane. We don’t want any accidents.”
As the Rolls Royce engine roared, and the car began moving away, Pepper looked into the distance where a man was waving a hand at the Spitfire. The wave obviously being an instruction meant for Brian, the Spitfire began moving forward, taxiing towards the car which Jessica was driving.
Then, with a horrifying realisation which took the breath from her chest, Pepper knew what Jessica was planning. As the blue estate car followed the old Rolls Royce, with a cameraman hanging out of the window as he captured the action, Pepper looked around in panic. She had to stop Jessica.
Sprinting as quickly as heels from the nineteen-forties would allow, Pepper rushed to her bike, and pulled it upright, swinging a leg over the seat. She knew the Rolls Royce was capable of higher speeds than her bike, but she also knew it would take some time for the old car to reach those speeds.
Using every fibre of the muscles in her thighs, Pepper pedalled after the car, the short grass which made up the runway surface offering her the traction the bike required to gain quick acceleration.
“What are you doing?” yelled Oswald, as Pepper set off in pursuit of the car. “This is not in the script!”
Ignoring him, Pepper forced the pedals to turn faster, and noted with some relief that she was gaining on the car which bounced its way towards the nose of the Spitfire, still over two hundred metres away.
Oswald shouted again, this time his tone more optimistic. “In fact, this is great! Keep going, Pepper! This is gold! Oscar-winning, perhaps! Your motivation is that you want to be there to witness Charles slipping the ring onto Emily’s finger! Go, Mrs Banforth, go!”
Pepper did go. The wig wobbling on her head as she gained speed, she rode into the cloud of smoke which trailed the vintage car and then veered to the left as she closed in on it.
Cycling alongside the car, she peered in through the open window. “Stop, Jessica,” she yelled. “Stop the car!”
“It’s too late!” shouted Jessica, as she changed gear, and the car edged away from Pepper. “Everything is too much for me to bear! I killed a man, Pepper, and Brian doesn’t love me! I can’t go on, and I don’t want Brian going on without me!”
Her thighs protesting as she exerted herself beyond all her usual cycling boundaries, Pepper kept up with the car. “You killed Stan?” she yelled. “Didn’t you? But it was an accident, wasn’t it?”
“You know?” shouted Jessica.
“Yes,” yelled Pepper, manoeuvring the bike closer to the car and eyeing up the wide running board, which formed a step onto which she thought she could tread.
“It was an accident!” confirmed Jessica. “I went to ask him if we could keep his car so that we could finish the film! I wanted the kiss with Brian so badly, Pepper. I had to film this last scene. Stan refused and got angry, so I pushed him as he walked into his shed to get away from me. I didn’t mean for him to fall and die! Please tell everyone I’m sorry, Pepper, and tell them that Brian and I will be happy together in the afterlife.”
Pepper looked up and gave a low scream of fear. The plane was less than fifty metres away, and it seemed that Brian was unaware that Jessica was planning a head-on collision.
Giving the bike one last burst of speed, Pepper steered closer to the car and reached for the sill of the open window. As her fingers grasped it, she leapt onto the running board and reached for the door handle as she heard her bike clattering on the grass behind her.
“Don’t!” yelled Jessica, as Pepper opened the door and clambered inside the car, her breath leaving her in panicked gasps. “I don’t want to kill you along with Brian and me, but I will!”
The engine roared louder as Jessica slammed her foot to the floor, and Pepper stared through the fly-covered windscreen in horror, as Brian, now seemingly aware that all wasn’t going to script, attempted to climb from the cockpit of the aircraft.
It didn’t take a mathematician to work out that at the speed which Jessica was driving the car at, Brian would not have time to escape. Both he and Jessica would be dead within ten seconds if Pepper didn’t do something. And her too, she reminded herself. Life in Picklebury might not have been as quiet as she’d have liked, but she had no intentions of checking out of it permanently — before she’d even reached her fiftieth birthday.
Reaching for her thigh, Pepper grabbed her wand from her stocking top, and with no time to consider what spell would work best, she aimed the tip at the grass ahead of the car and released a spell.
Making a perfect hole in the windscreen, the spell sizzled as it zoomed ahead of the car and crashed into the runway.
Pepper didn’t see the spell make contact with the grass, but she did see the explosion of seeds and pollen as a wall of grass rose from the ground in a twisting barrier
of green, which separated the car and the Spitfire.
As the car neared the wall, Jessica screamed and took her hands from the steering wheel, placing them in front of her face in an instinctive attempt to protect herself from the impending collision.
The collision never came, though — not the sort Jessica had predicted anyway. Instead of the car crumpling on impact as it hit the wall of grass, it followed the gentle curve the wall had created, like a racing car being guided by a crash barrier, but with soft grass guiding the vehicle instead of hard metal.
More grass soared upwards and wrapped its way over the roof and rear of the car, the engine stalling as the wheels were prevented from turning by the thick growth.
As the car slowed to a halt, completely enveloped in a protective green bubble, Jessica stared at Pepper, her face reflecting the emerald shimmer that surrounded them. “What happened?” she asked. “Are we dead? Is this the afterlife? Where’s Brian? Does he love me now? After what I’ve done for him?”
Pepper shook her head. “No, Jessica, this isn’t the afterlife, you’re still alive. Brian’s still alive, too.”
“Then what happened?” said Jessica, touching the grass which pressed into the car through the open window next to her. “Did somebody save us? Somebody bigger than us both? I wasn’t supposed to die today, was I? Neither was Brian.” She took a long breath and stared at Pepper. “Or you."
Pepper relaxed the magic which still flowed into her wand, and the wall of green slid back to earth, brushing gently over the car as it retreated into the runway. “You’ll have questions to answer, Jessica,” she said, covertly sliding the wand into her stocking top.
“I know,” said Jessica. “And I’ll answer them all. I owe it to whatever greater power just saved our lives.”
