Brilliance

by Rosalind Laker

  ‘Welcome, my love!’ he exclaimed happily after they had kissed. ‘These past weeks of waiting have seemed like for ever.’

  ‘It has been the same for me! But now I’m here to stay!’

  They took their seats side by side on the train that would take them to London. Being on their own in the first class carriage he was able to ask the question that was uppermost in his mind.

  ‘Did you gain any news of our child?’

  She shook her head sadly, her eyes stark, and told him all that had taken place. ‘It is as if a door has been slammed for ever in our lives,’ she concluded almost in a whisper.

  He held her tightly in his arms. For the moment there was no need for words. Then the train began to move and they were on their way. At her wish they began to talk of other matters, filling in gaps that their letters had not covered in detail.

  ‘You wrote that you had some screaming from the women patrons at your shows, but you didn’t say what frightened them,’ she asked. ‘Was it a train as in the Lumière show?’

  He shook his head, laughing. ‘No, my audience thought they were going to be drenched by an ocean wave! I took the sequence off the beach when a high tide was hurling spray all over the promenade! One woman in the audience shrieked even more piercingly than the rest and put up her umbrella!’

  She laughed delightedly. ‘What else has happened since then? You promised me some good news about your productions when I arrived.’

  ‘Yes, after the first London show a music hall manager contacted me and now there’s a short programme of my films included in the programme every night. Not only is it profitable, but it’s brought me publicity and a demand for film programmes from other music halls. I have even had a fairground proprietor wanting to show my animated pictures in a side-show, so there’s another outlet for my comedies. At the studio we’re working all day when the light is good. I was right to choose the present site of my studio on the south coast, which really does average more hours of sunshine than anywhere else.’

  ‘You called the resort Hothampton in your letters, but I looked for it on several maps and could not find it.’

  ‘I was referring to the location of the studio. The patch of land there still has the name of Hothampton, which was for a short time the name of the resort before it reverted to its original name of Bognor, which I believe has Saxon origins. Some other movie makers have started up in Hove along the coast for the same reason of good weather. The whole industry has taken off like a rocket!’

  ‘I know that already from the Lumières’ success. The brothers are sending their cameramen all over the world now to film foreign places and ceremonial events.’

  ‘That’s another praiseworthy move on their part! Patrons will love it. They’ll be seeing parts of the world that would never otherwise come their way in everyday life.’

  Now and again as the train rattled along Lisette looked out of the window at the passing Kent countryside. There was a gentle, dewy look to it, for spring had taken hold with an abundance of wild flowers on the grassy banks on either side of the tracks and the many orchards held clouds of pink and white blossom.

  When they arrived at smoky, noisy Victoria Station they took a cab to Brown’s Hotel where they stayed for a week. As she had hoped, Daniel took her to see the sights. They watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace where the absence of the Royal Standard showed that the elderly Queen was away. Daniel thought she was probably at Windsor Castle, but next year would be the Diamond Jubilee of her reign and he planned to take film of the event and Lisette would see her then.

  ‘I’ve already booked hotel accommodation for that time, because London will be jam-packed,’ he said.

  He took Lisette to the Tower, Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, various art galleries and on a riverboat trip to Hampton Court, all of which helped to satisfy some of Lisette’s eagerness in all she wanted to see. In the evenings they went to the theatres and the music halls, having supper at nightspots afterwards, and always making love passionately before sleeping, their arms about each other.

  The week went by quickly and back at Victoria Station they took a train to the south coast. It was warm and sunny when they arrived at the resort where Daniel went to a nearby garage to collect his motorcar. He had left it there before leaving by train for Dover, not wanting to risk any engine trouble that could have delayed his meeting her. Although he had bought it new only six months before, the motorcar already showed signs of hard use with a number of dents and scratches on its otherwise gleaming paintwork. Lisette guessed it had been used many times for transporting cameras and tripods and other equipment. It took quite a lot of cranking up before the engine started, but then he leapt into the driving seat at Lisette’s side.

  ‘This is like being in the cart again,’ she said happily as they drove along, ‘although these seats have better padding. What happened to Prince? Where is he now?’

  ‘I found him a good home before I left France. He will be treated well to the end of his days.’

  ‘That’s good to know,’ she commented, remembering how hard Prince had been ridden that day when Daniel had been searching for her.

  They were driving through the resort and he was taking a route that enabled her to see the charm of the many Georgian houses, which had been built by the founder of the town over a century before. Then they followed along by the promenade, where she saw the stretch of golden sands and the sea lying like a glittering throw of turquoise silk. She inhaled the clean salty air with pleasure. Beyond the resort they followed a country lane until he drew up outside a large thatched cottage that he had rented furnished for the time being.

  ‘What a dear old house!’ she exclaimed. ‘But where is the studio?’

  ‘It’s a short drive away. I’ll take you there tomorrow. Ah,’ he added as a youth in a yellow and black striped fustian jacket came hurrying from the cottage to unload the luggage, ‘this is Tom. When he’s not assisting in the house he helps out at the studio.’

  ‘Afternoon, mad-e-mois-elle.’ He had little idea how to pronounce the address correctly, but Lisette appreciated his effort and nodded to him with a smile. Then at Daniel’s side she entered the cottage.

  ‘Good afternoon, madam.’ The housekeeper, a pleasant-looking, neatly-dressed woman in a dark blue dress and white apron had been waiting in the oak-panelled hall to greet her. ‘I hope you had a good journey.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Pierce.’

  ‘I’m sure you would like a cup of tea and some toasted crumpets too,’ the woman suggested, taking Lisette’s outdoor clothes. ‘I’ll bring them to the sitting room.’

  Lisette did not often drink tea and had no idea what a crumpet was, but she was prepared to adjust herself to whatever came along in these new surroundings. There was a faint aroma of new paint, which caused her to guess that Daniel had had some refurbishment done in readiness for her coming. The sitting room was low-beamed, causing Daniel to dip his head in some areas, and the antique furniture was dark and well worn, but two comfortable looking wing chairs flanked the fireplace. She went across to sit in one of them and hold her hands to the flames of the logs burning brightly on the hearth, for the afternoon had cooled.

  ‘I like this house, Daniel,’ she said, looking up at him where he had come to stand beside her. ‘It feels like a home.’

  He bent down and kissed her. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ he said softly, ‘because I want you to be happy here.’

  The tea and crumpets arrived. Lisette, accustomed to pale tea with a lemon slice, found the contents of the teapot far too strong, but the buttery taste of the crumpets pleased her, although she thought they were probably very fattening.

  Afterwards Daniel took her upstairs to her bedroom, which had a four-poster bed and where a young housemaid was unpacking a trunk. The girl, blue-eyed and round-faced, her fair hair pushed into a mob-cap, sprang to her feet at once.

  ‘You are Daisy Robertson,’ Lisette said. ‘Mrs
Pierce told me your name.’

  ‘Yes, miss.’ The girl had a pretty smile. ‘I’ll come back later.’

  She scurried away, closing the door after her.

  Lisette looped her hands behind Daniel’s neck, smiling into his face. ‘I’m so glad I came. This is such an adventure. We have the whole world to conquer. When do we start?’

  He grinned as he went to turn the key in the lock. ‘Not quite yet,’ he said, coming back to sweep her into his arms and across to the bed. They fell laughing on to it together.

  Later he left her to go to the studio and check on what had been done in his absence. ‘I’ll not be long. We’ll go through some scripts later if you’d like.’

  ‘Yes, I would.’

  He was gone far longer than she had anticipated, returning with his chief cameraman, whom he introduced as Jim Baker. He was a short and smiling freckle-faced fellow with carrot-coloured hair, who shook her hand heartily.

  ‘Glad to have you on the team, miss,’ he declared warmly. ‘All has gone well in the boss’s absence and orders for our productions keep flooding in.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ she replied, liking him. ‘Daniel has told me that there is to be another public cinematograph show very soon.’

  ‘That’s right! Every night next week at the Queen’s Hall – that’s the resort’s local assembly rooms. On the Guv’nor’s instruction I’ve been using the camera around the resort and the surrounding district. People like to see themselves on the screen. The programme will end with a couple of short comedies. They’re always popular and tomorrow – if the light is good – we’ll be making another.’

  He talked on enthusiastically for another ten minutes before leaving and even then he paused to look back at her. ‘Our cameras would love you, miss. I hope the boss will persuade you to change your mind.’

  As the door closed after him Lisette turned to Daniel with her eyebrows raised enquiringly, a smile playing about her mouth. ‘And what exactly did he mean by that? Or can I guess?’

  ‘Naturally I told him that although you had done some amateur acting you have no wish to appear on the screen. But now he has seen you he would prefer you to be in front of the lens instead of out of its range.’

  ‘Ah!’ she said merrily. ‘He doesn’t know yet how good I can be at sound effects behind a screen instead of being on one. He might like me to be in charge of them at the Queen’s Hall performances! Just as in my magic lantern days!’

  He grinned at her joking, hugging her to him. ‘No! But one day we’ll have coordinated film and sound without any assistance. Colour, too.’

  She leaned back to look searchingly into his face. ‘I can anticipate colour, because already the Lumières have tried hand-tinting every frame of a film. I’m told they have created one animated picture where a dancer’s dress changes colour all the time in a butterfly dance. Everything in this new industry is advancing so quickly. But sound?’ She frowned uncertainly.

  He grinned at her confidently. ‘It will come eventually. How that will happen I’ve no idea, but I have already tried the experiment of filming a woman singing while recording her on a phonograph. Naturally the coordination was not perfect, but it’s a beginning. Meanwhile, those working at capturing good sound on mechanical instruments are working as hard in their field as those of us in the animated picture industry.’

  ‘I think it’s all wonderful!’ she declared. ‘Now, where are those scripts you were going to show me?’

  They sat by the fire and went through some of the scripts together. Most of them were comedies, but Daniel’s true interest, yet to be tried, was in short, simple dramas that could be easily followed and understood.

  He wanted to be early at the studio next morning and Lisette intended to go with him, but when she awoke it was half past seven and he had already breakfasted and gone. As it was a brilliantly sunny morning she supposed that work would start early and he would want to make the most of the daylight hours.

  When she was bathed and dressed she went downstairs to find Mrs Pierce prepared to fry her a full English breakfast. Although she had enjoyed many such breakfasts with Daniel when they were touring she had long since reverted to croissants and jam. Here she substituted toast and marmalade.

  When she was about to set off on foot for the studios one of the film crew arrived in Daniel’s car to collect her. ‘I’m Mike, miss,’ he said, reaching down a hand to help her up into the seat. ‘Have you seen any picture making yet?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve been looking forward to today.’

  They talked as he drove her along the lane until he turned through an open five five-barred gate by a sign that announced SHAW STUDIOS in large letters and underneath in smaller ones ‘Hothampton Meadow, Bognor’. A great mediaeval barn and a number of converted farm sheds and stables had been adapted entirely to the new use of movie making. It was a busy scene. Carpenters were sawing and hammering, painters were at work on some scenery, and a boy was filling buckets with water from an outside tap, which he was placing in a long line by the barn wall.

  ‘That’s a fire precaution carried out routinely whether we are in production or not,’ Mike explained, indicating the buckets. ‘Celluloid film is highly inflammable and there have been disastrous fires in two or three places that have made many people wary of attending performances.’

  Daniel had seen her and was already coming across in her direction, but then Jim Baker, a pencil tucked behind one ear and a script in hand, waylaid him. Leaving the motorcar she went to join them. Jim greeted her warmly.

  ‘Good to see you here, Miss Decourt.’ Then he turned again to Daniel. ‘The steamroller will arrive at eight o’clock and the prop man has half a dozen of those life-size cut-outs in case of damage.’ He squinted up at the sky. ‘I think today is going to be good to us.’

  Seeing that they were too busy talking over the project in hand to notice her leave, Lisette withdrew quietly to make a tour of the studio buildings. The only one newly built was an office with Daniel’s name on the door. He had told her that there was an adjoining room to his office where he and Jim would view whatever they had taken during the day and it was also where the splicing and editing were done.

  In the vast interior of the ancient, oak-beamed barn she stood to look around at what she had been told were called ‘sets’. It was like being backstage in a theatre with canvas scenes of a drawing room, a kitchen, and other interiors stacked against the walls. There was furniture too, a bed, cupboards, tables and so forth, which would be used with the various sets. As she stood there two of the film crew had started to pull forward a low-wheeled wooden platform to draw it outside through the barn’s great open doors.

  ‘What’s that for?’ she asked, moving out of the way.

  One of the men answered her, able to tell by her French accent who she was, but neither he nor his companion paused in their task. ‘It’s needed for all sorts of things. Sometimes as a floor for an indoor scene with a backdrop, but mostly for pushing forward a cameraman to follow a scene or drawing him backwards. Today Jim Baker wants to take some shots from a high angle. So we’re going to erect a stepladder on it for him.’

  She decided she would not miss that, but continued her tour, opening the door of one shed and seeing what she first thought were beer barrels before realizing that they were the metal containers that kept the reels of highly inflammable celluloid safe from a chance accident. Seeing a middle-aged woman unlocking the door of another smaller building Lisette introduced herself.

  ‘What goes on under this roof?’ she asked with interest.

  ‘Come in and see for yourself,’ the woman invited pleasantly. ‘I’m Mrs Leigh. My husband is one of the carpenters here.’ She led the way in and Lisette followed, seeing immediately that it was a wardrobe room, for there were two sewing machines and a long table for cutting cloth.

  ‘So you are the studio dressmaker!’

  The woman nodded. ‘That’s right. I have to make any special costumes t
hat are needed and repair whatever gets torn or damaged in any way.’ She opened in turn the doors of two enormous wardrobes to display the assortment of garments within. ‘The chests of drawers here are also full of shawls, purses, fans, socks and all sorts of other things that get needed from time to time. I’m always on the lookout for second-hand clothes that can be washed and mended and used by the actors. The budget for my department is very small. So if you have anything you don’t want to wear any longer—?’ She left the question hanging in the air.

  ‘I’ll remember what you’ve said.’

  ‘Good. Everything helps. If you’d like to go into the shed next door you’ll find Ethel Davis in there. She works with me when she’s not dealing with make-up.’

  Lisette found Ethel setting out theatrical make-up on a dressing table by the window. She was a young, bright-eyed woman and pleased to talk.

  ‘I apply the make-up to both the actors and actresses.’ She unscrewed the lid of a large jar filled with some greenish-white cream. ‘This is what is used on the face, and there has to be plenty of dark make-up to accentuate the eyes of both men and women.’ She picked up one of the lipsticks. ‘This helps to give the heroines the look of having rosebud lips like the Gaiety Girls on those postcards and the pretty girls you see on chocolate boxes.’ She glanced up at a clock on the wall. ‘Mr Arnott will be in very soon – he’s in the comedy being filmed today.’ Then she looked towards the window. ‘I can see he’s coming now. He’s a real belly laugh on the screen, but he’s as miserable as hell in ordinary life. I’ve noticed that with other comedians.’

  Lisette met Arthur Arnott on the doorstep. He was a rotund little man with a round-cheeked, impish face that looked as if it should be well-used to laughter, but there was no gladness in his eyes and he introduced himself very solemnly, giving a bow.

  ‘My pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Decourt.’