by ILIL ARBEL
“Cut!” said Mr. Goldwasser. “Great job, everyone. Let’s all go and have something to eat. I’m starving!” Most of the people left the room, except Mrs. Rivers and Miss Brinton, who lingered for a minute.
“This is almost the end of the film,” said Mrs. Rivers to Miss Brinton. “I still find it amazing that you do not film in sequence, and that we still have to do quite a few scenes in the middle.”
“Ah, well, that’s the way the cinema works,” said Miss Brinton. “It’s different from the way they do theatre. Quite confusing, I admit, but I am used to it.”
“Whatever you do, I must admit you do very well,” said Mrs. Rivers. “I feel My Work comes alive when I watch the actors.”
“You may become addicted,” smiled Miss Brinton. “I can’t tell you, Mrs. Rivers, how many authors do. They begin to feel that unless a book is filmed, it is not complete.”
“I can understand that,” said Mrs. Rivers. “I hope I have more self-confidence, but yes, there is something very special in seeing your story right in front of your eyes, rather than in front of your inner eye. I truly enjoy the experience. Moreover, some films are better than the books they were based on. I could name quite a few.”
“I was very pleased to hear that you have consented to work on a sequel,” said Miss Brinton. “I look forward to a perfect script. My only question is, would you enjoy it without having written a book first?”
“I think I would,” said Mrs. Rivers. “A new experience. And if we go to the United States at some point, and I can get a first-hand look at Hollywood, that, too, will be quite valuable to me. After all, I am still considering the book about a great actress, though it must wait, of course.”
“What is the book about, exactly?” asked Miss Brinton.
“A middle-aged actress, very beautiful and successful, married to a hugely popular London theatre producer, and who is encountering serious problems in her private life,” said Mrs. Rivers. “She falls in love with a handsome young man, an actor who is certain to become a star himself some day.”
“Sounds fascinating,” said Miss Brinton. “Maybe we could persuade Miss Tudor and Mr. Goldwasser to look at the possibility.”
“Oh, I hope so,” said Mrs. Rivers enthusiastically.
“Just be sure it’s all fictional,” said Miss Brinton. “You don’t want a lawsuit on your hands. Some of the stars are touchy on such subjects, and may pounce on you when you least expect it. But if Mr. Goldwasser agrees to do it, he would take care of all that.”
“And naturally I will be careful as to what I write, just as you say, Miss Brinton.” They turned to leave the room.
Neither of the ladies noticed that Miss Tudor, who sat at the end of the room, changing into comfortable shoes, was listening to their conversation, and so no one saw her changing expression; had they looked, they would have detected dismay, perhaps even fear. She did not make her presence known, and quietly left the room.
Ten minutes later, Miss Merriman entered the library, remembering she had left some papers there the night before. She stopped in surprise.
“Whatever is the matter, Miss Tudor?” asked Miss Merriman, suspecting the worst, a nervous breakdown. Glamora was sitting at the huge conference table in the library, her head leaning on her arms which were crossed on the table. She lifted her head wearily and looked at Miss Merriman. Her face was haggard, strained, and pale.
“I am tired, Merry,” she said, using that name for the first time. “So tired. Exhausted, really.”
“Come along, Miss Tudor,” said Miss Merriman with quiet authority. “Let’s go to your room, and I’ll set you up with a nice hot water bottle and a cup of tea. We don’t want anyone to see you like that.”
Glamora got up obediently, and followed Miss Merriman to her own room. Miss Merriman immediately called the kitchen. While waiting, she quickly settled Glamora on her bed, and soon a kitchen maid brought up the tray, put it on a bedside table, and upset some hot water on it.
“Ow!” said the maid. “And I’d arranged it all ever so nice. I’ll go down and get a clorth.”
“No need, Lizzy,” said Miss Merriman, who knew most of the staff by their Christian names. “I’ll take care of it, I have some cloths here, and Miss Tudor needs to rest, she has a slight cold. You can go home now, it’s quite late.”
“Thanks so much, Miss Merriman,” said Lizzy gratefully. “I’ll be along tomorrow as usual. Ta-ta, Miss Tudor.”
“Service is getting worse and worse in England,” said Miss Merriman, quite unmoved. “I wonder if some day I’ll start calling this object ‘a clorth.’ A grim thought, but I expect I will.” She tucked the hot water bottle at Glamora’s feet and served her a cup of tea.
“No wonder Jake admires you so much, Merry,” said Glamora. “Do you mind if I call you by that name? I noticed that your close friends call you that, and I want to feel that I am one of them.”
“By all means call me Merry,” said Miss Merriman pleasantly. “It will give me pleasure. But you must allow me to continue calling you Miss Tudor. I have completely lost the ability to use Christian names during the years of my work as a companion and secretary.”
“Of course,” said Glamora. “Anything you say. How did you become so wise?”
“Years of looking after other people create an efficient way of thinking. I am not that wise – it’s just that I have had so many opportunities to observe the ways people act and behave.”
“Jake thinks you are the most intelligent woman he has ever met,” said Glamora. “He thinks you are even smarter than Miss Brinton.”
“We won’t tell her that,” said Miss Merriman, laughing. “Do you think she will marry the general in the end, Miss Tudor?”
“Oh, yes, I do. When one is lucky enough to find a man who truly loves her, she would be crazy to lose him. Such men, men who remain faithful to you like the general is to Miss Brinton, are rare.”
“So you agree with Mr. Goldwasser that middle-aged marriages may be successful? We had a discussion about it when he told me about Miss Brinton and the general.”
“Really? How interesting,” said Glamora. “And are you sure, Merry, that he referred to Miss Brinton and the general?”
“Why, yes, who else could he think about? All the married friends we have in common have been married since their youth,” said Miss Merriman. “Yes, we were discussing Miss Brinton and the general.”
“Perhaps,” said Glamora. “What exactly did he say?”
“You see, I said that at middle age one must be very careful of one’s choice of a spouse, and must be sure of similar lifestyles and way of thinking, and he disagreed and claimed that affection and respect may resolve most difficulties.”
“I think you may have made a mistake as to whom he was referring,” said Glamora. Miss Merriman looked at her, not comprehending, and suddenly a horrible suspicion crossed her mind.
“My dear Miss Tudor, surely you don’t imagine…”
“It’s okay, Merry. I don’t have much imagination anyway, but even if something like that happened, who could blame Jake? You have no idea how nice you are, how attractive, how pleasant.”
“Why thank you, Miss Tudor. But this simply can’t be!”
“You know, Merry, Jake is so intelligent, he is close to genius, people say. I sometimes wonder why he even spends ten minutes in my company.”
“Miss Tudor! I can’t bear to hear you say it!”
“Well, such a state of mind is common among so-called stars. We always worry about our image. My entire persona was created by Jake. I am his creature, like this Dr. Frankenstein and his creature… he even gave me my name. I was Maura Gayle Stewart. He used a tongue twister, like children do. Try saying Maura-Gayle-Maura-Gayle-Maura-Gayle-Maura and you end up with Gaylemaura. He immediately saw the possibilities.”
“And you don’t have to explain the Tudor part,” said Miss Merriman, intrigued. “Obviously he moved from one royal house to another…”
“You se
e how clever you are? He had to explain it to me. I never guessed. But then I never read any history. I am totally uneducated.”
“But Miss Tudor, you have educated yourself as the years went by. And what’s more important, I have been watching you very closely during the filming. You are not only a beautiful star, Miss Tudor. You are a magnificent, consummate actress. Even if, God forbid, your looks were lost, you could still light up the screen with your talent and personality.”
“Do you really think so, Merry? This is something I never stop thinking about. Acting, real acting. Even my silly roles mean so much to me. You see, I have a problem. I can’t express abstract thoughts very well. Do you remember how I spoke at the opening of the Fete? I meant to simply use the same format that I used when opening the hospital, and just apply it to the Fete. I had it all planned out, but then I suddenly started talking about the film I did about Florence Nightingale… So stupid. That is what happens to me. I become silly, I say things I don’t mean to say, though of course people don’t really care, they just want to look at me. Maybe it’s a condition, like those people who suddenly start cursing and screaming without any provocation or control. When I think and talk about concrete matters, like now, I am fine. But if I have to express a complex thought, I simply can’t… but when I act, I feel that I express myself perfectly, even if it is a frivolous thing like these science fiction films we both like.”
“Yes, Miss Tudor, I do understand. It may be a condition, because underneath the glamour you are a very intelligent woman with great practicality and sense. But even if it is a condition, so what? You have found the perfect medium through which you express yourself so beautifully.”
“It may have something to do with learning to change my way of speaking,” said Glamora, musing. “I was pure Cockney, and I have taught myself to speak like the upper classes. I remember someone taking me to see Pygmalion, a little after I became a star. Everyone was enjoying themselves, laughing, except me. I was crying throughout the play. What I would not have given for having someone like Professor Higgins train me… I had to do it all by myself. And there she was, this idiotic girl, Eliza, objecting to his imperious ways. I would have thanked him every hour and never minded the bullying… Anyway, what I speak is not really my language, so maybe this is the problem. I just don’t know.”
“Whatever it is, you have made a great success of your life, Miss Tudor. And as for what you said about Mr. Goldwasser, wondering why he would like to spend time with you, this is nonsense. Everyone who knows you admires, respects, and even loves you, Miss Tudor.”
“I will try to listen to you, Merry. I have such faith in your judgment. But if I am to think about real acting, I must get better educated. And this is another problem. It’s not as if I could just go to school; every newspaper in three continents would make fun of me.”
“I have a better idea,” said Miss Merriman. “We can start you on a course of reading.”
“But reading what? How do I begin?”
“I know a young woman who may be very helpful,” said Miss Merriman. “Her name is Anne Dale. She was a sickly child, and only attended school sporadically. When she was seventeen years old, she became healthier, but by then she was completely uneducated. Her parents arranged for her to be tutored by Miss Bunting, the best governess that I have ever known. Miss Bunting prepared a course of systematic reading that set the young woman on a life-long love of learning, and made her truly well-educated. Mrs. Dale received a much better education than any school could have given her.”
“Do you think, then, that I could get in touch with Miss Bunting?”
“No, sadly Miss Bunting passed away after the war. But knowing Mrs. Dale, I am sure she kept the lists of books and the notes and everything else Miss Bunting gave her. She adored Miss Bunting, and mourned her passing, and she would very likely feel that her own children would benefit from Miss Bunting’s teaching. Yes, I will write to Mrs. Dale. All will be well.”
“You are a genius, Merry,” said Miss Tudor, and suddenly laughed. “When I say that to Jake, he always answers, ‘So what else is new’ but of course you would never say that.”
“No, never,” said Miss Merriman, smiling. “Unlike Mr. Goldwasser, I am not a genius… But now you must sleep, Miss Tudor. I think you are simply undergoing a crisis. Not a terribly bad one, but still, it’s harrowing. Rest now, and we will discuss it further later, and make all sorts of plans.”
“Thank you Merry,” said Glamora, her eyes closing with fatigue. “Thank you so much… this is a lovely plan already… I adore reading a good story and it all sounds like something so utterly doable…”
Miss Merriman quietly got up and went to the door. She stood there for a minute before leaving the room, looking with pity and affection at the gorgeous bird of paradise, under whose glorious gold and crimson plumage hid a very courageous little sparrow.
Chapter Thirteen
“Aurora, I must know my fate,” said Mr. Chardonay, passing his hand over his handsome face to hide his emotions. They were standing at a short distance from a blue screen, eventually to be replaced by the image of the Danube. The floor was covered with linoleum that had cobblestones painted on it, totally flat to permit dancing. The trompe-l’oeil was perfect, and the cobblestones looked entirely realistic and three-dimensional. The faint strains of the Blue Danube began to be heard, growing stronger very slowly, as if approaching from a very great distance.
“Nestor, my dear, I might as well say it right away; I cannot go with you,” said Aurora in a shaky voice. “My duty is elsewhere, and I have to follow it.”
“How can you turn your back on our love?” asked Nestor Chardonay, his green eyes almost phosphorescent in the faux twilight. Aurora sighed. “I must help my husband in his duties as a member of the House of Lords, and devote the rest of my time to community and civic affairs. I have to sit on philanthropic committees, and entertain many dignitaries. All that is not as exciting as the life you and I could have had, but if I leave my husband, he would suffer severe political consequences. Our hopeless love was madness, Nestor, sheer madness…”
“And are political consequences more important than the human heart, Aurora?”
Aurora was silent for a minute, her head bent. Then she raised it and the camera moved closer to show the sincerity and honour in the big violet eyes. “Perhaps not,” she said quietly and with great dignity, “but England is. If I leave Arthur he would not be able to serve England as he was born to do, and as I committed myself to do when I married him. And you too, Nestor. You have your own important duties to our country. Can you turn your back on England?”
“England…” said Mr. Chardonay, and bent his own head reverently. “England, indeed, must always come first, whatever personal sacrifice one must make. You are right, Aurora, and I accept your heroic decision. I will always admire you for making it for both of us; you have more courage than I do. I shall never love another woman, of course, my heart will remain forever yours, but our sacrifice is needed.” He stood quietly, his head still bowed, and the sound of the waltz became strong and demanding.
Suddenly, he lifted his head, noticing the music, and smiled ruefully. “Will you dance one last waltz with me, Aurora? In memory of our first?” Without a word, Aurora glided into his arms and they danced together for the last time. The camera moved over their faces, advancing and retreating, and finally the music faded and darkness fell.
“Cut!” said Mr. Goldwasser. “Move on to the boat scene for the credits, Glam.”
A quick change of clothes, and Aurora was standing on a deck of a ship, which was constructed at some distance from a regular screen with an image of the sea projected on it. The suit she changed into was light, ethereal blue – the colour of hope – which would cheer the sobbing audience a little, and a striped yellow and white awning illuminated her with an aura of celestial golden haze, a stunning effect that was achieved by a strong light projected behind the awning. A white gauzy scarf waved in the
warm breeze; the audience would almost smell the salt-laden, invigorating air. After a few seconds, the sight of land with a strong impression of palm trees appeared on the screen, which the audience knew was romantic Tahiti, where Aurora was to meet Lord Arthur. Suddenly, a dazzling smile broke on Aurora’s lips. A smile full of wisdom, love, and resignation, but not unhappy, not unhappy at all. The handsome, tall figure of a man appeared on the approaching beach, and they waved to each other; Aurora threw a kiss in his direction, and he returned it. The credits would be rolling freely at that moment, and the audience would be supremely satisfied with the outcome of the film. The admirable Lady Fitz-Gardner maintained her virtue, proved her loyalty to England and her sense of honour, and would soon be in the arms of the man who truly loved her through all the terrible trouble she had gone through in this film, having to face the harrowing choice of a life of luxury with a titled, rich, and loving husband, who also happened to be quite attractive, or a wild adventure with a devastatingly handsome young man with almost supernatural green eyes. Life treated the poor, noble lady cruelly for a while, but all came to a good end. And the audience would leave the cinema and enjoy a good cuppa or a glass of beer and discuss Aurora’s future children, charitable activities, and certain happiness, and poor Nestor’s loveless and forlorn fate without his Goddess, before returning, just a little bit out of sorts, to their own mundane and often harsh reality. But such are our lives, and all of the great actress’s loyal admirers would retain the pleasant assurance that there will soon be another film starring Miss Glamora Tudor and the handsome young man of the moment. Some things you could rely on, thank goodness, even in this uncertain world.
“I thought it would be more pleasant to have our meeting here, rather than in the conference room,” said Lady Norton as she ushered Mr. Goldwasser into the inner sanctum of her own sitting room, which he had never seen before. It could have been extremely elegant, due to its perfect proportions, valuable antique furniture, and lovely view, but it was marred by an overflow of Victorian and Edwardian bric-a-brac that covered every available surface, though we must admit they were exceptionally well-dusted – Lady Norton’s servants were not encouraged to be idle. She was also quite lavishly decorated, wearing an elaborate dress, many pieces of day jewellery, and her face-à-main in readiness, hanging by a golden chain on her ample bosom. Most alarming was the new way she had arranged her hair. It was piled very high on her head, making her look even larger than usual. Her appearance would have intimidated a lesser man, but Mr. Goldwasser, in his infinite understanding of human nature, realized immediately that she had taken all this trouble merely to please her visitor, and so he said gallantly, “You are always so considerate, Lady Norton, forever thinking of other people’s comfort. Indeed, it will be better to discuss our plans in the privacy of your beautiful sitting room.” Lady Norton inclined her head graciously, her mound of hair shaking in a rather threatening fashion, and offered him a seat on a sofa that was so overcrowded with embroidered and firmly stuffed cushions that there was no space left for him. So he removed one cushion, admired the heavy stump-work which must have been done at least seventy years before, and sat down, piling the cushion on one of its companions, this one sporting a rather startling tapestry work, depicting a wooden-looking knight on his horse, fighting a small and stylized dragon, all three participants looking quite bored with the whole thing.
