by Susan Lewis
Starting as her mobile rang, she dug it out of her bag, and seeing it was Neve she immediately clicked on.
‘Hey Mum! How’s it going? Have you done anything yet?’
‘No, I’m still in my dressing room,’ she gasped. ‘I’m going to pieces and I don’t know how to put myself back together.’
‘OK, deep breaths and think of England,’ Neve commanded.
Expelling a sigh in a gust of laughter, Susannah said, ‘You’re just what I need to help me feel grounded again. Thank you, darling.’
‘No problem, all free with the slavery of being a daughter. Seriously though Mum, you’ll be fine once you’re out there doing it. I’m really rooting for you. We all are. Here, Lola wants to talk to you.’
Loving them for thinking to call now, Susannah started undressing as Lola came on the line saying, ‘Now, I don’t want any of your nonsense, my girl. You can stop those nerves this instant and remember you’re a very talented actress who they wouldn’t have cast if they didn’t think you was up to the job.’
With a smile, Susannah said, ‘Thank you for that. It was just a funny five minutes. I think I’m almost past it now. It would probably help if I could eat, but the very thought of it turns my stomach inside out.’
‘You’ll be all right once everything’s under way. It’s always the build-up that’s worse. Anyway, you’d better not let us keep you. We just wanted to send you our love and wish you good luck – am I allowed to say that? I’m not keen on break a leg, knowing you’re going to be riding a horse.’
Laughing, Susannah assured her it was fine, and after promising to call as soon as she wrapped, she began pulling on the cream-coloured undies and socks that had been laid out for her. A few minutes later Becky, her dresser, arrived with one of the exquisitely tailored riding jackets that was part of Marianne’s high-quality wardrobe, along with beige jodhpurs, white shirt, riding hat, whip, boots and a silk polka-dot cravat.
No sooner were the garter straps fastened on her boots than Carrie returned to take her through to make-up. A smock was put over her costume for protection while her hair was coiled into a bun and covered with a black sequin-studded net, and a lavish coating of foundation was applied to her face, followed by thick layers of mascara, heavy lines of kohl and a cheekbone-defining blusher. Finally her lips were transformed into a sumptuous scarlet slash.
‘We’ll touch that up again before you go on camera,’ Ricky, her make-up artist, informed her.
‘You look a treat,’ George Bremell commented as he sauntered over from the washbasin where his own make-up artist had just given him a shave. ‘Let’s hope the weather stays dry now so we get this in the can today. It would be a great pity if rain stopped play before we’d even gone in to bat.’
Susannah was about to reply when Carrie came bustling in with a squawking walkie-talkie. ‘OK, jeep’s outside ready to take you up to the gallops,’ she announced briskly.
‘Oh my God,’ Susannah gulped, pressing a hand to her mouth. ‘Do you think I could have a moment?’ she said plaintively to Carrie.
‘There’s one right through here,’ George informed her helpfully.
Dashing in the direction he was pointing, she tugged open the door, locked it behind her and managed to get to the basin just in time. Or what felt like just in time. The fact was she had nothing to bring up, and she wasn’t even retching, it was just a sensation at the pit of her stomach that was making her feel queasy. She was simply beside herself with fear.
However, by the time they reached the sprawling mass of vehicles spread out across the top of a far hillside, and Jane had sent word that she’d be over asap to talk them through what was happening, Susannah was becoming aware of an unexpected, but very welcome sense of calm starting to trickle into her veins. It was as though another part of her was emerging from the trembling mess she’d been all morning, a part that was confident, assured, and most of all outwardly poised, even if the inside continued to teeter on the edge of collapse.
Since a glistening mist was still suspended over the treetops with fine droplets of rain dampening the air, Ricky insisted she stay undercover while they watched the stunt double gallop in from the woods for the first shot.
‘Everyone seems to be on the catering bus,’ George informed her, and holding out an arm for her to take he led her across the grass to join the other cast members who’d come to witness the first episode getting under way. Though they had a ringside view of the action from the bus and offered Susannah a seat next to the window, there was very little to see for the moment, beyond a line of camera tracks running parallel with the gallops and a small clutch of people standing so far distant they were almost obscured by the mist.
Then finally it was announced over the walkie-talkies that they were going for a take. An excited buzz immediately spread around the base unit, followed by a breathless anticipation as the setup progress was transmitted over the airwaves.
‘Are you OK, Bridget?’ someone shouted. ‘Are you in position?’
‘I’m there,’ a voice replied. ‘Ready when you are.’
Since Bridget was her stunt double, Susannah felt almost as tense as if she were on Silver’s back herself. Bridget was out there somewhere, masked by fog and forest, preparing to urge Silver into a thrillingly daredevil gallop before bursting into shot and taking the viewers by storm. How she’d love to be able to do it herself, but neither insurance, nor inexperience would allow.
‘Right, you lot,’ they heard Jane saying, ‘as soon as you see her coming, start the track back. Keep them in wide shot the whole time, Tom, bringing them along the gallops until you reach the end, then let them go past. If you can manage to get close on the horse’s hooves churning up mud at that point, you’ll be my everlasting hero.’
‘Now there’s an incentive,’ came a jocular reply.
‘OK, everyone?’ another voice shouted. ‘We’re ready to go.’
Seconds later, ‘Camera rolling.’
‘Episode one, scene one, shot one, take one.’
Susannah’s heart fluttered with a wonderful sensation of pride, mixed with nerves and elation. Being any part of this would be a dream come true; playing such a significant role was quite simply beyond anything she’d ever even dared imagine.
‘OK. And … Action!’
For several moments nothing seemed to happen, then the camera began tracking back, going faster and faster across the hilltop until finally Silver came thundering out of the mist, a vision of pure magnificence and power as he charged along the gallops, his rider perfectly poised over her saddle bottom up and weight on her knees, and dressed in the exact same costume Susannah was wearing now. The spectacle was stupendous: Silver was spellbinding as he sailed along with all the grace of a racehorse and the majesty of the great Arab stallion he was. Everyone watching was silent with awe, feeling, to a man, as though their heartbeats had become one with the colossal pounding of hooves.
Eventually the camera stopped tracking, and swung in a whip pan as Silver galloped by. Then Bridget began slowing him up. When finally he came to a halt great clouds of steam surrounded his body, and his head tossed up and down as he jogged with the urge for more action.
‘Now I really know I’m in love,’ Susannah commented, making everyone smile – apart from Polly, who muttered something to the person next to her, and didn’t even deign to look in Susannah’s direction.
Then, with no warning at all, the heavens opened, prompting a collective cry of protest.
‘They’ll never be able to carry on in this,’ Polly stated knowledgeably, unable to disguise her pleasure at the prospect of Susannah’s own debut being postponed.
‘They won’t even be able to get a second take for safety,’ someone else remarked.
‘We might as well all go back to the Centre,’ Polly added. ‘We’re wasting our time here now.’
Feeling desperate at the very idea of having her big moment delayed, Susannah looked hopefully at George, but he only grimaced ap
ologetically, as though wishing he could disagree with the consensus, but he couldn’t.
‘OK, Bridget, bring Silver in,’ they heard the first assistant shouting into his walkie-talkie. ‘Can someone tell me where Susannah is?’
‘Catering bus,’ Carrie replied.
‘Tell her not to move, Jane’s on her way over. Is George there too?’
‘Affirmative.’
Seconds later Carrie jumped on to the bus.
‘It’s OK, we heard,’ George told her.
Giving him the thumbs up, Carrie leapt back down again and disappeared off across the grass towards Silver’s horsebox.
‘Bloody rain,’ Jane grumbled, tugging off her hood as she came to join them, ‘but I want to wait for a while to see if it eases off. Meantime, will someone please get me a coffee and some kind of bun? I’m ravenous. They don’t feed the directors, you know.’
‘Keep ’em lean, treat ’em mean,’ the first assistant added as he came on board too. Then, following an expressive nod from Jane, ‘Right, everyone, could you clear this bus please and go over to the next one? Sorry to make you go out in the rain, but none of you’s on camera this morning, so I’m afraid that’s the way it is.’
To Susannah and George, Jane said, ‘Marlene’s on her way up with Alex and Gillian. They might want us to do your shots in the rain. Will either of you have a problem with that?’
Glancing at George, Susannah shook her head.
‘Is it going to be possible to see us in this sort of downpour?’ George wanted to know.
‘No, but if it goes over a bit, it should be OK, and the producers sure as heck won’t want to start the week behind schedule. So my darlings, better brace yourselves for a soaking.’
In the event the rain did ease off, and by the time the camera was moved into position it had virtually stopped. Susannah was standing with Josie and Silver by now, her riding hat on and the whip grasped tightly in one hand.
‘Ready to go up?’ Josie asked, with a twinkle in her eyes.
Susannah turned to Silver and lovingly stroked his nose. ‘How about you?’ she murmured. ‘Are you ready for this?’
Silver gave her a nudge, and pressed his muzzle towards Susannah’s pocket.
‘Shameless creature,’ Josie snorted. ‘As you can see, he’s not above bribery,’ and handing Susannah a treat she waited for Silver to crunch it up, while two props guys put the mounting block in place.
Seconds later Susannah was on Silver’s back, gazing down at the valley and feeling, for a moment, as though only she and the horse were on the hilltop. She could hear the crew, but she was only really aware of the way Silver was prancing restlessly beneath her, and how much she was already starting to feel like Marianne. Susannah was melting away, making room for a stronger, darker force to press its way through all the various dimensions of her self. She didn’t feel like Susannah any longer, she was the woman who owned all she could see, and who ruled over it with a will of iron and heart of malice.
She looked down at George and saw his eyebrows twitch in recognition of what was happening. Then someone was calling for first positions, while Jane spoke to the cameraman and Marlene watched from the wings with coldly assessing eyes.
Susannah turned Silver round and urged him back towards the forest, aware of everyone watching her, but not really caring. She was sensing the horse, just as Silver was sensing her. They’d rehearsed this three times by now, so were already getting to know one another in a way that had no sound or vision, only instinct and trust. When she reached her mark she eased Silver round again, feeling how willingly the horse obeyed, but never for a minute losing the sense of his power.
As they waited Silver pawed the ground, showing his impatience, but not until the first assistant’s arm went down and Susannah squeezed gently with her heels did he start to move forward. Within seconds he’d sprung into a canter, heading back towards the unit at the pace they’d rehearsed. Susannah could feel the air on her cheeks and the pounding motion of the horse. The reins were soft in her hands, all the control centred in her thighs and knees. Dimly she registered the crew watching and shooting and waiting for her to come to the appointed stop. When she did she raised her chin high and turned to gaze down her nose at the valley below, aware of the camera beneath her capturing the image of haughty grandeur.
After a count of three she heard Jane whisper, ‘And turn.’
Obediently Susannah lowered her head and turned to George who was camera right, an unholy contempt blazing from her eyes.
‘And cut!’ the first assistant shouted.
‘Jesus, Mary Mother of God,’ George muttered crossing himself. ‘I’ll be lucky to make it to episode four at this rate.’
As everyone laughed, Susannah leaned down to smooth Silver’s neck while Josie fed him another Blue Chip treat and Jane came up to congratulate them both.
‘You look sensational on that beast,’ she told Susannah. ‘It’s my prediction the two of you will become an iconic image of these times.’
‘No pressure then,’ Susannah laughed, and as Marlene beckoned her over she slid down from the saddle and passed Josie the reins.
‘You’re to be commended for how quickly you’ve acquired your riding skills,’ Marlene declared as Susannah joined her. ‘That was most impressive, because to my inexperienced eye you looked as though you’ve been doing it all your life.’
‘Marianne has,’ Susannah reminded her.
Marlene gave a rare smile. ‘Indeed,’ she acknowledged. ‘Now, I won’t take up any more of your time. There’s still a lot to get through today, but I’d appreciate it if, as soon as you wrap, you’d come and find me in my office. Something’s come up that we need to discuss.’
By the time the day’s shoot was over Susannah had worked herself up to a pitch of high anxiety about Marlene’s summons to her office. Not even the director’s praise, still ringing in her ears as she crossed the stableyard, nor the euphoria of reaching a wrap with every scene in the can, was doing much to ease her concern. She felt like an impostor whose real identity was about to be uncovered, or the butt of a joke that was now over, so time to go home – which was how everyone felt, George assured her, when success was staring them in the face, ‘or hanging in the balance, since the programme hasn’t actually gone out yet,’ he added.
When she reached Marlene’s office and finally learned what it was all about she could only blink in confusion at the printed email she’d been handed, needing a moment to absorb the very last thing she’d imagined.
Take care of your daughter. I wouldn’t want the same happening to her as happened to mine.
Her eyes went back to Marlene. ‘Who’s it from?’ she asked. ‘When did it arrive?’
‘Some time over the weekend,’ Marlene told her. ‘As for who sent it, you can see that the address is merely a random sequence of letters and numbers.’
Susannah’s heart was tightening as she looked at the message again.
‘My guess is,’ Marlene went on calmly, ‘that it’s a caution from someone in your own profession whose child suffered as a result of their fame. Since you’ve mentioned Neve a few times in interviews, it’s obviously triggered something for someone. I’m afraid it happens from time to time. Children get carried away with a sense of their own importance just because Mum or Dad is on the screen, and the next thing you know they’re doing drugs or getting into situations they wouldn’t otherwise find themselves in. Or it could simply be a cry for attention from one of the unhappy souls out there who concoct messages such as this one in the hope of getting themselves noticed. We’ve sent a copy to the local police as a matter of course, and I can only say that I’m sorry this sort of thing is upon us so soon. I take it you haven’t had any other messages like it, sent to your personal email?’
Susannah shook her head.
‘That’s good, because it shows the sender is only able to make contact through the programme. Obviously, if you do find anything similar you’ll let me know.’<
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‘Of course,’ Susannah assured her. Then after thanking her, she folded the message and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans as she walked back through the production concourse. Before doing anything else this evening she was going to ring Alan, partly to thank him for the beautiful flowers she’d found in her dressing room after the wrap, but mainly to get his expert take on the mind that had sent the email.
‘Mm,’ he said ponderously after she’d finished reading it to him, ‘I guess I’m inclined to agree with Marlene’s assessment, that it’s someone from your own profession whose child has gone off the rails.’
‘So you don’t think it’s anything to worry about?’
‘It’s not sounding that way to me. Read it again.’
After she’d repeated it, she said, ‘Please don’t mention it to Neve. I don’t think she needs to know. Or Lola.’
‘Of course not. There would be no point to that at all. I suppose there’s no way of knowing whether it was sent by a man or a woman?’
‘No. Why? Does it make a difference?’
‘Probably not. Gender rarely plays a defining role in this sort of compulsion.’
‘What sort is that?’
‘The sort that makes someone want to be noticed, but only obliquely, or they’d come out into the open with their warnings. Or it could be someone who gets a thrill from knowing they’ve unnerved someone in the public eye. It provides them with a sense of power. There are all kinds of explanations, but without knowing who it is, or anything about them, it’s impossible to say for certain which cap might fit.’
