Sidney Chambers and The Problem of Evil (The Grantchester Mysteries)

by James Runcie

  ‘Do you only have one go at this?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘We’ll try to get the fall in one take. It keeps everyone on their toes. But it’s only a dummy. You’ve got to be more careful with the actors in the water.’

  ‘It sounds dangerous.’

  ‘It only looks that way. They’ve rehearsed in a pool. Both men are good swimmers. In fact they’re probably better swimmers than they are actors.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let them hear that.’ Mandy laughed. Nigel caught her wink and returned it.

  Goodness me, thought Sidney, what is it about film directors and women? He knelt down to talk to Dickens. ‘It’ll be all right, old chap, you’ll be the star of the show.’

  The first assistant asked for positions and final checks, and stationed special effects close to the dummy. ‘Clear the set,’ he called. ‘Sidney, you’re in shot.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Sidney gave Dickens a last reassuring look, and turned away.

  ‘Get behind the camera. Quickly. Roll sound.’

  ‘Sound rolling.’

  ‘Roll camera.’

  ‘Set.’

  ‘Mark it.’

  ‘137. Take One.’

  ‘Action.’

  The dummy was thrown into the water and Dickens leant forward. He then began pacing up and down the bridge. The dummy turned in the weir below but appeared to have caught on something. Dickens was confused. The cameraman abandoned the tripod and moved in for a hand-held close-up. He knelt down so that he could be at the same level as the Labrador. The movement upset Dickens and made his performance as a distraught dog all the more convincing. Nigel Binns was just about to call ‘cut’ when the Labrador suddenly jumped into the river.

  ‘Help!’ Sidney called. ‘Get him out of there.’

  ‘Keep rolling,’ the director called. The cameraman stood up and adjusted focus on the scene below.

  ‘Cut,’ shouted Sidney.

  ‘KEEP ROLLING,’ Nigel Binns screamed. ‘Only I can say “Cut”. He’ll be all right. Let’s have five seconds.’

  ‘You said you didn’t want this,’ Sidney snapped.

  ‘Never mind that. It might work.’

  ‘But Dickens could die. Get him out!’ Sidney shouted.

  ‘It’s OK,’ said the boom-swinger. ‘He’s making for the bank!’

  ‘What’s happened to the dummy?’ Nigel asked.

  ‘Never mind the bloody dummy,’ Sidney answered. ‘Save my Labrador.’

  Mandy had already run round with a towel. She hauled Dickens over on to the bank. The dummy had sunk but the dog was safe.

  Confused, wet, cold and betrayed, but safe.

  ‘Don’t ever do that again,’ Sidney said to the director.

  ‘We had it covered.’

  ‘I’m not sure you did.’

  Mandy dried Dickens and wrapped him in a rug. Sidney fed him biscuits and the first assistant arranged for a car home.

  The crew now moved to the waters around Byron’s Pool for the moment of drowning. Robert Vaizey waited on the opposite side of the river with Ray, his dresser, while the crew made their final checks. The director showed him the exact patch of water that was best for the light, and his dresser belted up the actor’s raincoat and gave him a trilby.

  The idea was that the cameras would roll, and Robert Vaizey would thrash and call out for up to a minute so that they could get a range of shots. Then Andy Balfour would dive in, they would do the double-turnover stunt they had practised before both men played dead and let the waters float them out of shot.

  ‘Are we ready?’ the first assistant called.

  ‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ Robert Vaizey replied. ‘To think I once played Hamlet. Now look at me. A glorified extra.’

  ‘There are no small parts, darling,’ his wife consoled him. ‘Only small actors.’

  ‘Clear the shot please, Miss Manners,’ the director asked.

  ‘I’m going, don’t panic!’ Veronica answered. ‘I do not want to ruin my husband’s greatest cinematic moment.’

  ‘You too, Ray.’

  The dresser stepped back into the trees.

  ‘You’ve ruined enough of my life as it is,’ Robert Vaizey muttered as Veronica walked away.

  Camera and sound began to roll, the clapper-loader marked the scene, and the actor jumped into the water and made for the lit area he had been shown. He turned twice to give the effect of being buffeted and sank convincingly, resurfacing without his hat, his hair already matted, and called out for help.

  ‘More desperate,’ Nigel Binns called. ‘Go in close,’ he said to the cameraman before issuing further instructions to the actor. ‘Let your mouth fill with water, spit it out, go under again, come up and look around then go underneath. Stand by, Andy. Sink down once more. And – cue, Andy. Action!’

  Robert Vaizey spent longer each time he was underwater, the idea being that he should only surface three times and then he would be gone. Andy dived in and approached him from behind, anticipating a life-saving manoeuvre, and the two men turned over twice.

  ‘Good,’ the director called. ‘Keep it going. Pull him away, Andy. Go under yourself. Stay on the surface, Robert. Start to float. Don’t go under again. The camera’s on Andy. Now back to Robert. That’s good, Robert. Hold your breath. Don’t sink. What are you doing? I said don’t sink. Get back up. Where’s your damn trilby? Andy, your turn. Play dead. Hold your breath. Let the water take you out of shot. Hold it there, everyone. Good. Lovely, lovely. Close on the waters. Keep it close. Hold it there. Hold it there. Five more seconds. That’s it. Lovely, lovely and CUT.’

  Andy Balfour swam to the side of the river, pulled himself out of the water and collapsed on the bank.

  ‘Is he all right?’ Veronica Manners asked, as she ran to be near him. ‘My God, my God, Andy? Andy?’

  At the same time her husband’s body was sinking deeper into the waters. ‘I said: “Cut,”’ Nigel Binns shouted. The assistant director, special effects and the dresser ran to the rescue but it was too late. Robert Vaizey had sunk for the last time; his trilby sailed on downstream while his body found its way to the dark weeds on the river bed.

  An ambulance was called and filming was suspended. It had been a tragic accident, although some of the crew began to mutter that it had been too dangerous a stunt and there should have been divers in the water. The production had cut corners on safety and this was the result. Andy Balfour also blamed himself. Perhaps he had pulled Robert Vaizey down too strongly, or he had caught on something underwater, and he should have realised that his fellow actor was in trouble.

  Veronica Manners took to her hotel bed and refused to come out, calling on room service for food, drink and cigarettes. She was going to sleep for a week, she said. Sidney made his visit and tried to offer consolation but was sent away. He spoke to Inspector Keating who took a dim view of the production. ‘A very slipshod operation, if you ask me.’

  ‘It is such a tragic accident. And now the whole project may have to be abandoned.’

  ‘There’s too much money invested to do that. I’m told there are only a few days left to go. Let them have the funeral, finish the job and clear off.’

  ‘Has the coroner seen the body?’

  ‘The corpse is with Jarvis now. I think it’s a pretty clear-cut case of accidental drowning. There were plenty of witnesses.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard . . .’

  ‘And you weren’t one of them.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why have you got that look on your face, Sidney?’

  ‘What look?’

  ‘The one I don’t like.’

  ‘It’s nothing, really.’

  ‘Out with it, man.’

  Sidney swallowed. ‘You know that Andy Balfour was having an affair with the victim’s wife?’

  ‘You don’t think he drowned him deliberately?’

  ‘No, I’m not saying that, quite yet.’

  ‘Then what are you saying?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I
t’s a bit convenient, isn’t it? Perhaps they were trying to drown each other.’

  ‘I’m not buying that, Sidney. It was acting, pure and simple, and then an accident. Both Balfour and Miss Manners are distraught. Prostrate with grief, I’m told. I know they’re both actors but if you’re saying they’re putting that on they’re the best I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘I’d like to think about this a little more.’

  ‘Sidney, sometimes these things are what they are. Accidents. I know God may move in mysterious ways but this really would be something; a murder in full view that’s also caught on film? I don’t think so.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so either, Geordie. But I wouldn’t mind having a look at the rushes.’

  As expected, Jarvis the coroner decided that Robert Vaizey’s demise had been an accident and recorded a verdict of ‘death by misadventure’. His widow sent word that she would like Sidney to take a small family funeral in Grantchester and that there would then be a full memorial at the Actors’ Church in Covent Garden in a few months’ time.

  She also suggested that he preach a sermon based on the text ‘Many waters cannot quench love’ but he gently dissuaded her of this idea. He felt that the mourners should not be distressed by memories of the drowning. In truth, he was not sure about the idea of ‘love’ on that film set. ‘Lust’, he thought, would probably be more accurate, but he did not say so.

  Veronica was dressed completely in black when they finally met for a late-afternoon tea at the Garden House Hotel to discuss the service. Once they had decided on the anthem, the hymns and the readings, Andy Balfour joined them. Although he was well turned out, in a navy blazer and grey flannel trousers, the neatness of his appearance could not disguise the collapse of his confidence. He was tentative in his approach and careful not to interrupt but said quietly that he had only come to make sure Veronica was coping and to see if either of them would like the first snifter of the evening. It had been such a terrible time, he said, and there were only a few ways of getting through it all. Alcohol was one of them.

  Sidney allowed himself the teeniest whisky while Robert Vaizey’s widow ordered champagne. She wanted to toast the memory of her husband. While Balfour saw to the drinks Sidney wondered how open the adulterous couple would be to any inquiry about the death. He would certainly have to proceed with caution.

  ‘Perhaps it’s just as well you’re a real vicar after all,’ Veronica Manners continued. ‘I’m sorry I was so abrasive when we first met. I expect you take a dim view of the whole situation.’

  ‘It’s always tragic when life is lost like this. I try not to judge anyone.’

  ‘Actors are always being assessed. We are used to criticism. And we don’t mind talking about the things that matter.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to intrude.’

  ‘Everyone else does,’ said Andy as he returned from the bar. ‘I suppose some people might even think I drowned Robert myself so that I could be with Veronica.’

  ‘Did he know about you both?’

  The actress smiled, almost impressed by Sidney’s strange directness. ‘We were very discreet. But Robert always understood about my need for additional entertainment.’

  ‘He turned a blind eye?’

  ‘As I did to him. Once the gilt goes off the sexual gingerbread you tend to take your meals elsewhere.’

  ‘You had what I think is called “an open marriage”?’

  ‘Not exactly. It was, perhaps, a bit more complicated. But I suppose I should ask if you had guessed that my husband liked boys as well as girls?’

  Balfour interrupted. ‘Oh, Vonnie darling, I don’t think Canon Chambers needs to know about all that.’

  ‘I did not.’

  ‘Robert wasn’t aware of it when we were first married. It was something we both came to realise eventually and we talked about it quite openly together and then, when the crunch came, we decided that it did not necessarily mean an end to our companionship. We were a good team after all, and we couldn’t imagine actually living with anyone else or, indeed, anybody else putting up with us. And so we decided to remain as a couple and enjoy the odd diversion. As long as we treated each other with respect and were kind, that was all that mattered. We had to keep our dignity above everything else.’

  ‘And you were aware of this arrangement, Mr Balfour?’

  ‘Not entirely, if I am honest. But I didn’t have any expectations that anything with Veronica was ever going to last. It was just a fling.’

  ‘Was?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s all over,’ Veronica cut in. ‘We’re just friends now. You can’t expect us to go on as before after all that’s happened.’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ Sidney replied. He had no idea what the rules were in these situations. Did actors just make it all up as they went along?

  ‘The guilt is bad enough.’

  ‘And the loss,’ Andy said. ‘Everything stops after a death like that.’

  ‘I was wondering about the accident itself,’ Sidney asked. ‘Was there anything different when you came to film from the way in which the scene had been rehearsed?’

  ‘Quite a lot,’ Andy explained. ‘We practised in a tank and not in our real costumes. I think we were both surprised by two things: the current in the river and how much heavier our clothes became than we had been expecting. Obviously I can’t speak for Robert but it was hard work. Nigel Binns’s quest for authenticity nearly killed us both.’

  ‘And did Mr Vaizey panic at the time?’

  ‘He certainly did. He swore when we were going at it together. I thought it was acting and he was just getting cross with me, but then it turned into something darker. He was angry and frightened. Then he clung on for longer than he should have done and I told him to get off. In the end I had to kick him away.’

  Veronica Manners interrupted. ‘You didn’t tell me that before, darling.’

  ‘The kick didn’t kill him.’

  ‘Then what did?’

  ‘The current. It was so fierce. We were in the wrong bit of river at the wrong time. I only survived because I’m younger and stronger. Poor Robert didn’t have a chance.’

  ‘Will you sue?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘Oh God, I don’t know,’ Veronica Manners replied. ‘These things are always so hard to prove; and I’d rather not have a court case. All sorts of things will get out. I don’t mind so much about myself, you’ll no doubt be surprised to hear that, but Andy is at the start of his career and he doesn’t want to be branded as “trouble”. Also there are bound to be insinuations about Robert’s sexual preferences, however coded it appears, and I’d like his reputation to be unsullied. That reminds me, I have made a few extra background notes for your sermon at the funeral; the parts he played, the kind of man he was, his generosity.’

  ‘That would be very helpful. I don’t think it will be too difficult to work in a reference to Hamlet. I know you said he would have liked that.’

  ‘He would. I did love him. I may not have been the best of wives but I was always true to him in my fashion. You have to understand that.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Sidney.

  ‘Please,’ Andy Balfour added. ‘Don’t think badly of us. I know we have not behaved well. Forgive us.’

  ‘If you are truly penitent, then you will have forgiveness; that is God’s promise. Forgiveness is not mine to give.’

  ‘I’m more than penitent,’ Veronica Manners responded. ‘I’m broken.’

  At the funeral, Sidney spoke about time and chance and the need to understand the truth of things, concentrating on what mattered in a life; the difference between outward appearances and the abundant truth of what is real. The task of the actor was to find that inner truth and disclose it to the world.

  After the ceremony, Robert Vaizey’s dresser thanked him for his words. Sidney had met him only briefly on the set. He expressed his condolences and, finding the man both reticent and oddly distracted, made polite conversation by praising his ex
ceptionally well-cut suit.

  ‘I’m glad you noticed,’ Ray Delfino replied. ‘It’s important to dress well for a funeral.’

  He was a small man with a thin face, light blue eyes and gracefully expressive hands. ‘My father’s a tailor,’ he explained.

  ‘That’s rather appropriate given the title of this film. Weren’t you tempted to join his trade?’

  ‘He hoped I would. He made costumes for all the stars and suits for their public appearances; ladies too. I met Miss Manners when she came for a fitting and we got on so well she found me a job on a film set. I’ve always loved the cinema. Dad wasn’t keen but I’ve given him plenty of star contacts since then and the money’s good. But when you earn it, you spend it. That’s what Veronica always says.’

  ‘Were you often her husband’s dresser?’

  ‘He always asked for me.’

  ‘So you must be devastated by his loss.’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about it. We were so close. I blame the director. I don’t care who knows it and even if we have been in church. He was reckless. And Andy Balfour wasn’t much better, kicking out at him like that. I know what I saw.’

  ‘It was a terrible accident.’

  ‘Oh yes, everyone says that; but there’s no doubt Andy Balfour would have liked Mr Vaizey out of the way.’

  ‘That’s a bold claim. Did you tell the police?’

  ‘I’m not saying it was deliberate and I wasn’t asked to make a statement. But it’s convenient, don’t you think?’

  ‘But there is no means of proving that, Mr Delfino, and the coroner has already given his verdict. I think you should be careful what you say.’

  ‘You know what the film industry is like. People will talk.’

  ‘I thought that you lot were all rather discreet about that kind of thing.’

  ‘It’s ironic, don’t you think? That actors are so bad at pretending when it comes to real life.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ Sidney answered. ‘Most of us spend at least some of our time performing in one way or another. We all play a part of some kind.’

  ‘Some more effectively than others.’