Household

by Stevenson, Florence

  It was just as well that he had given them that advice, for while they still wondered, their grief was partially assuaged and they could turn their minds to what Septimus and Livia believed to be their last interview with Mr. Goldbaum. He would want them to leave his house, of course. And where would they go? They would have to arrange a tour. Kathie would probably be joining them, and Matthew would be coming with her.

  They were naturally nervous as they filed into the producer’s office. Only Richard was in a really good humor. He was remaining in Hollywood and thought Kathie also should stay. He was sure he could get her acting jobs. Mail was similarly confused. He could find work as a makeup artist, but he was also becoming interested in astronomy, now that he could look at the heavens to his heart’s content. The only trouble about being an astronomer was the fact that he would have to go to college, and he had not even obtained his high school diploma. In fact, he had never even attended grammar school, something that would be difficult to explain considering the fact that he was both literate and intelligent.

  It was Kathie who had suggested an alternate solution. “Have you ever considered astrology?”

  He had not, but on reading several books about it, he found it fascinating. He also thought he had a real feeling for it. As he sat waiting for Mr. Goldbaum to summon them into his inner office, he wondered about the producer’s signs. A few moments later, following his family into the great man’s office, Mark needed only a glance to tell him that Mr-Gold baum was a Capricorn with Pisces rising—a strong yet mystical individual with a Venus in Scorpio that gave him the touch of dishonesty he needed for the motion picture business. Mark decided that he liked Mr. Goldbaum, and to the surprise of the whole family, the producer seemed to be in an exceptionally good humor for one whose studio had been half-gutted by fire.

  “Well,” Mr. Goldbaum said, surveying the rather glum group facing him, “Paris has burned but Magnum will survive that. Also it will survive similar catastrophes and out of the cinders will rise a new picture. The Devil, You say! What do you think of that—a catchy title, ja?”

  He looked around him, and from force of habit Ruth Fiske, seated next to Richard, said, “Yes, Mr. Goldbaum.”

  He beamed at her. “The Devil, You Say. That should bring audiences in, especially when we have a perfect devil and his daughter, who will be redeemed by the love of a good man. We have in mind Charles DeWitt if we can pry him away from Colossal Inc. It is he who will teach the devil’s daughter how to love. That is the gist of the plot, and we’ll film it on the lot. Already the scenic designer is sketches making. And I suppose you are wondering what we will use for actors.” His benign gaze fell on Septimus. “I hope you will not be taking this personally, Mr. Grenfall, but always the devil you are bringing to my mind. And Miss Kathie, no one is better able to play the daughter. Only in publicity we will not say she is your daughter, eh? Gut! And now as to salaries...”

  “You can’t talk to them about that, Mr. Goldbaum,” Richard interrupted. “I am their agent.”

  Some of the producer’s cordiality vanished. “Ach, an agent you are becoming?”

  “Have become, sir,” Richard corrected.

  “When do you start shooting?” Mark suddenly surprised them all by demanding.

  “Ach, another relative, and what do you contribute, young man?” Mr. Goldbaum regarded him suspiciously.

  “A horoscope.”

  “An astrologer, you are? What sign am I?”

  Ruth Fiske shot an anxious look in the direction of Richard. No one but she knew about Mr. Goldbaum’s closely guarded interest in astrology. If Mark were to make an error it could prove disastrous. She held her breath as Mark answered with what she feared was not only confidence but overconfidence. “Capricorn with Pisces rising, Venus in Scorpio, Moon in Cancer...”

  “Say no more.” The producer clapped his hands together. “You are right. You must stay with me this afternoon. There is much that I would like to know.”

  “I can’t stay this afternoon, Mr. Goldbaum,” Mark said with a firmness that shocked his family.

  “When may I call you?” The producer shot the question at him.

  “I will call you, sir,” Mark replied.

  “Ach!” The producer gared at him and then grinned. “Mine own you are giving back to me, ja? You are a smart young man. Maybe I can find a place for you at Goldbaum-Magnum.”

  There was a great deal more to discuss before the six of them left. They walked hastily out of the studio. It was not until they reached the limousine they had hired to take them there that they broke into a sustained yell and hugged each other all around.

  “It seems too good to be true,” Kathie finally said.

  “It’s not,” Mark told her. “You’ll be a star. It’s in your stars.” He hugged her.

  “I’m going to be married to an actor,” Livia marveled.

  “And I’m going to be married to a wife.” Septimus kissed her on the cheek.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You are going to sit on a fine cushion and sew a fine seam.”

  “I am going to cue you in your lines, write a column for the Hollywood Citizen-News, furnish a small house for us and have big family parties for the children and...”

  “As you choose, my love.” Septimus kissed her again. “I exist only to give you your heart’s desire.”

  “You’ve given me that already,” she said softly.

  ❖

  Two weeks after they had been brought into the Santa Monica Hospital, Juliet and Colin were pleased when Luther Burns hurried them out a side door and into the limousine sent by Oliver Arno, thus eluding the reporters.

  Fortunately Dane Fuller and Helena Browning had been living together. Consequently Juliet and Colin did not have to go off to separate living quarters at this crucial time when they were getting acclimated to their new bodies. Neither of these had been in tiptop shape when they had been brought into the hospital. Late nights, coke and booze had made definite inroads on their constitutions, but Dr. Jacobsen had comforted them by saying that they were both young enough to overcome these ill effects. The producer had added his own comments on the subject, holding out the bribe of a higher salary if they stopped and the threat of firing if they did not. Naturally Mr. Burns had also had his tidbit to throw in.

  The constant harping on that aspect of their presumed former lives had been amusing, confusing and annoying to a pair who had not ingested any foreign substance or even any solids for the last 133 and 135 years. Yet for the most part they had been patient, since actually it had been the least of their worries. During their fortnight in the hospital, they had had to relearn habits discarded over a century ago, and though they made remarkable progress, daylight still held terror for them and the night was almost equally frightening. Everything was so dark, and the moon so dim and distant! “It will take time,” Colin had warned Juliet.

  “Time,” she had agreed.

  They dismissed Mr. Burns once they arrived at the large English Tudor mansion on Los Feliz Drive, a few doors off Wilshire Boulevard. Mr. Burns had let Colin know that Dane Fuller had bought the house several years ago, while congratulating him on his purchase.

  Coming inside, they found the rooms large and furnished tastefully, in keeping with the style of the house. They were delighted to find that there were two large bedrooms upstairs as well as two guest chambers, all with their own beautifully appointed bathrooms. One of the big bedrooms yielded the garments worn by Miss Browning, and in Dane’s bedroom a mixture of casual and formal clothes was found, none of which appealed to Colin’s more conservative tastes.

  “We’ll have to collect some of our own clothes from Goldbaum’s,” Juliet began and stopped, staring at him confusedly. “But I am... was... smaller than Miss Browning.”

  “And I,” he said ruefully, “am just the type for Mr. Fuller’s wardrobe.”

  “You can’t call him Mr. Fuller,” she chided.

  “I was following your lea
d, sister dear.”

  “Oh dear, oh dear,” Juliet sighed. “I fear this is only the beginning of the complications. We weren’t allowed visitors in the hospital, but we’re not in the hospital any more.”

  “An obvious fact and one that does not bear repeating.”

  “Don’t be horrid. You’re going to be just as mixed-up as I am. Whatever are we going to do? We aren’t only inhabiting their bodies—we’re inhabiting their lives!”

  “But you almost drowned, my dear children, and so many allowances will be made for confusion and a possible loss of memory. Few questions will be asked. Your condition will be understood. I have tried to prepare the Household in some small way, but I think you might like to surprise it.”

  “Father!” they cried in unison and gazed about the large room not seeing him.

  “You cannot expect to see me,” he answered their unspoken thoughts, his voice no more than a windy whisper in their human eardrums.

  “Oh, Father,” Juliet said sadly and yearningly. “You’ll not leave us?”

  “Not yet, sir,” Colin added.

  “You will leave me,” the Old Lord said gently. “Wait and see if you don’t.”

  “Never,” they chorused, drawing near to the place where they thought he might be and, because of their new vision, not knowing they were wrong and quite alone.

  ❖

  “But what happened to them?” Oliver Arno stamped up and down his office, glaring at a crestfallen Luther Burns. “You mean they won’t get their memories back? But I’ve invested a hell of a lot...”

  “Look, I’m telling you what they said. The girl’s willing to take a crack at the part. She says she’ll be glad to read with Gareth Garnet.”

  “And what did Dane say? I’ve got him slated for College Capers on Parade!”

  “He’s not ready.”

  “But it’s been a whole damned month! Do you know what this delay is costing me?”

  “Down to the last decimal point, Oliver,” Mr. Burns said sympathetically. “But call it an act of God and get in touch with your insurance company. I mean these kids were almost mixing with the fishes. The nurse said it was a miracle they survived.”

  “What the hell use is a blasted miracle if I’m going to lose a million on this Browning bitch and another on Fuller? Better they should’ve stayed at the bottom of the Pacific and then I’d really have been able to collect.”

  Burns knotted his fist but smiled his agent’s smile. “Well, you got the girl, maybe. Let’s see how she does. That dip in the sea didn’t hurt her looks any.”

  “That’s one blessing. Try for another,” growled the producer.

  “Well, how do you like this? She don’t have to talk so the folks out in front don’t know she’s got this damned monotone.”

  “Oh, all right,” Arno growled. “But I’m not making any bets on this one.”

  ❖

  “I’m nervous,” Juliet said. “I wish you were going with me.” She looked at Colin oddly, adding, “You really look like a movie star—all that swimming.”

  He stretched his tanned arms high and glanced out at the blue waters of one of the few private swimming pools in Los Angeles. “It’s helped me get used to this body.”

  “I’m nearly used to mine, but I wish I were still a blonde.”

  “You can always become one.”

  “I’ll leave that to you. How do you like your blue eyes and that bright golden hair?”

  “I can see out of my eyes, and my hair keeps my head warm. You’re going to be late, sister mine.”

  “What are you going to do?” Juliet asked. “Swim?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind,” he said evasively.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “That’s your privilege.” He grinned. “That sounds casual enough, doesn’t it?”

  “It also sounds rude,” she accused. Moving forward, she flung her arms around him. “Have a wonderful time, whatever you decide to do,” she said meaningfully.

  “You can still read my mind,” he discovered.

  “And you mine.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you wish me a... wonderful time, too?”

  “I will, my dear. I will and do.”

  ❖

  Luther Burns, looking harried, stood to the left of the set they were using for Helena’s Browning’s test shots. At the last moment the producer had decided that she must not only speak but do part of a tango with Garnet.

  “I didn’t tell her about this,” the agent protested.

  “I only got him to agree this morning,” Arno said. “He’s been in a hell of a funk lately. How’s Dane?”

  “Still down in the dumps,” Burns said. “I think he got more water than she did.”

  “Water’d do it, I guess,” Arno said sourly. “Been different if he’d drowned in gin.”

  “Here she is,” Burns said. “You gotta admit she’s a looker.”

  “Yeah.” Arno gave her a lackluster stare. “We’re not going ro waste too much film on her. A couple of minutes ought to give me some answers.”

  ❖

  The taxi driver drew to a stop and looked at his fare with wide eyes. “Here we are, Mr. Fuller.” He grinned at the dollar bill Colin gave him. “I’m not never goin’ to spend this. I’m goin’ to frame it.”

  Colin gave him a nervous smile, nodded and started up the path to the little house. He was aware that he should have visited his family once he gained enough confidence to be out on his own, but he had not even thought of them until this minute. They fled his thoughts again as he reached the front door and started to press the buzzer. His hand dropped to his side. He was aware of a shyness he had not experienced in decades. He also remembered what he had forgotten in his eagerness to see her. She might not be home. He would soon find out. He put his finger on the buzzer and in his excitement kept it there.

  “All right, all right.” He heard her voice, and then she opened the door. She was looking belligerent. She was also pale and dragged out. She wore no makeup, her eyes were bloodshot, and she was much thinner than he remembered. The bright red kimono she wore accentuated her pallor, and her air of belligerence did not vanish immediately. “Will you take your finger off the bell? I’m here.”

  “Oh,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Goodness!” she suddenly exclaimed. “Don’t I know you?” Before he could answer, she continued uncertainly. “You’re Mr. Fuller. Dane Fuller, aren’t you? Or maybe his stand-in?”

  Colin had forgotten about what Juliet sometimes called their “borrowed plumage.” In his eagerness to see her, to hold her in his arms, to love her, he had not taken into account what she would see once she opened her door to his famous face.

  He said wryly, “I should be one or the other, Morna.” The unaccustomed throb of his heart in his chest seemed to be activating pulses through his entire body.

  Morna looked at him wide-eyed, and as he had hoped but dared not expect, her confusion dropped away from her like a discarded cloak. “Come in,” she said softly, joyfully and with the strange awareness that had startled him weeks ago.

  As he entered, she shut the door behind him. Turning to him, she said. “You will tell me the how of it later. Right now, I only want to feel your arms around me, Colin.” Much later, lying with her head in her bed, his lips upon the throbbing hollow at the base of her throat, he raised his head and stared lovingly down at her. “I had forgotten... but you have given it back to me, you alone, Morna.”

  “What had you forgotten?” she asked, running her hand down the length of his back, rejoicing in the warmth of his body.

  “There’s an ecstasy about being human.”

  “There is now,” she agreed.

  “Morna, I love you so much.”

  “I love you, Colin.”

  “You’d better learn to call me Dane.”

  “Colin,” she whispered stubbornly and fell asleep in his embrace. He, lying awake a little longer, thought he must go so
on. Then looking out of her window at the sun-drenched landscape, he realized he could stay. He reveled in that golden glory. It would be so wonderful to paint by sunlight. He looked down at the sleeping face of his love and knew exactly how he would position her for her portrait.

  ❖

  Burns and Arno were seated to the left of the cameraman, watching the woman they knew as Helena Browning as she danced with Gareth Garnet.

  “She’s damned good,” Burns said with a sincerity that surprised him. “She never used to be that good. Her double had to do her dancing for her.”

  “Now he tells me,” Arno commented, glancing at a young woman who was staring at Miss Browning in utter amazement. She had come rushing into the studio on the pretext that she was Burns’ secretary and was bringing some important papers. She bore a slight resemblance to Helena Browning but, to the producer and the agent as well, she was no more than a smudged carbon. Arno’s gaze shifted back to the dancing pair. He noted that Garnet appeared bemused and confused. He didn’t blame him. He said, “Okay we can cut the test. I’ve seen enough to convince me. She’s great.” Gareth Garnet was standing just beyond the door when Juliet emerged from Arno’s office. “Hi,” he said casually.

  “Hi,” she said lightly. “I really enjoyed that test. You gave me some swell support. Thanks.”

  “So did I,” he said enthusiastically. “You’re a remarkably good dancer. I’d never realized that before.”

  Juliet’s heart skipped several beats, or at least it felt that way. Had Helena Browning danced with him? How well did they know each other? She searched for an explanation and produced one she hoped might suffice. “I’ve been practicing.”

  “It shows,” he told her. “I understand from Arno that you’re in.”

  “Yes, he wants me. I don’t know about Dane though. Actually, I do. Dane doesn’t really want to come back. He’d like to paint.”

  He said earnestly, “Are you still with him?”

  “We live in the same house, if that’s what you mean.” Looking up into eyes which, she suddenly realized, were just a little darker than her own, she had to add, “But that’s all aver. I’m leaving as soon as I can get another place.”