Vengeance

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Aw, come on, honey, let’s take a break now, I’ve had about as much as I can take for one sitting.’

  Through the fading sunlight still seeping across the room Laurence eyed Ruby Collins with candid annoyance. ‘We’ve got to get this sorted,’ he snapped, ‘but if you can’t hack the course I’m gonna remind you that there are plenty out there who can.’

  Ruby’s porous face with its faded make-up, watery blue eyes and flabby jowls was turned in Lawrence’s direction, though he could see that her mind was elsewhere.

  ‘Did you hear what I said, Ruby?’ he barked.

  ‘Sure, I heard you, honey,’ she drawled, ‘but you know and I know that you’re not gonna give this script to anyone else so quit threatening me, son.’

  Laurence’s face tightened and seeing it Ruby leaned across from the sofa to where he was sitting on a chair covered in cat fur and patted his hand.

  Laurence pulled his hand away, but deciding to give her a minute or two to ruminate, in the slim hope that she might be fishing around for something approaching a solution to the problem that had just coughed itself up, he cast his eyes about the sitting room of her Richmond flat.

  It was neat enough, with the exception of the overflowing ashtrays and cluttered desk in the corner, but he wouldn’t want to vouch for the cleanliness beneath the surface. The pictures hanging on the walls, however, were surprisingly tasteful, given that the way she dressed and made herself up was so gaudy. Across the mantle-piece were photographs of her in her earlier years when she had paraded the catwalks and been heralded as one of the most beautiful girls of her generation. But the gin and cigarettes had put paid to that, aging her beyond her years and making her look closer to seventy than sixty.

  As Laurence turned back to look at her he could read the dilemma going on in her mind only too well. She wanted a drink and she wanted one real bad. But she didn’t want to admit it. For a moment he was tempted to give in and tell her to go ahead, but they’d never get through today if she hit the bottle.

  He knew only too well what had led to her drink problem, for her career was as chequered as her drunken diatribes were long. She’d insisted on recounting her life history to him, ad infinitum, during the first weeks they’d started working together, and that he himself had played a role in it had made the listening even more excruciating. But, thank God, she seemed to have run out of steam on that topic now. Regrettably he couldn’t say the same with regard to the subject of Pippa. The two of them had despised each other on sight, and by the look of her, Ruby was cooking up something savoury to throw at him on the subject of his wife right now.

  ‘All right,’ he said sharply, making her jump, ‘let’s try this scene again.’ He didn’t care how much she’d suffered in the past, she had no damned business criticizing his private life and goddammit he wasn’t going to tolerate it. ‘If we cut the dialogue from the top of page forty-four to half way down,’ he continued, ‘where the second set of stage directions begins . . .’

  ‘Laurence, we need that dialogue,’ Ruby interrupted with a supercilious smile.

  ‘Why? It’s overwritten, it’s tacky and . . .’ he poised his pencil over the page, ‘it’s cut.’ He drew a thick line through the closely typed lines and turned over. ‘Now let’s take the end of the scene . . .’

  ‘I need a drink,’ Ruby said, starting to heave herself to her feet.

  ‘You touch that bottle and I’m out of here,’ Laurence warned.

  For a moment or two Ruby looked torn. Which did she want most, that Laurence should stay, or a fix? Laurence watched her, his eyes a steely blend of daring and distaste. In the end Ruby flopped back into her seat. ‘You sure as hell are ticked about something today,’ she complained. ‘You’ve been at me ever since you walked in this morning.’

  ‘Let’s get back to it, Ruby,’ he said. ‘Now, the end of the scene as it stands is terrific, but the lead into it is unshootable, so we’ve got to rethink it.’

  ‘What do you mean, unshootable? Nothing’s unshootable.’

  Ignoring her Laurence went on. ‘I think we should bring the dialogue at the top of scene forty-eight, with some adjustments, forward to here . . .’

  ‘Nah, I don’t agree.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just don’t.’

  ‘Then give me a reason.’

  ‘The dialogue works where it is. I don’t want it in this scene.’

  ‘That’s not a good enough reason. Now look, if we put it here . . .’

  ‘Are you listening to me, son? It works where it is.’

  ‘Will you just hear me out?’

  ‘What for? We’re never gonna agree. What we need is a director. He’d tell you I was right.’

  ‘No director worth a dime is going to touch a screenplay in this state!’ Laurence shouted.

  ‘If it’s so bad then what are you doing here?’ she snapped back.

  Laurence bit down hard on a scathing response, getting into a fight with her now was going to get them nowhere. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘this screenplay will work, and we are gonna make it work, but somewhere along the line you’ve got to give.’

  ‘You know my terms. You come here and stay with me while I write it, I’ll . . .’

  ‘Drop it, Ruby.’

  ‘Those are my terms.’

  ‘I said, drop it.’

  ‘OK. How about you stay for some dinner and we discuss it?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘How about I promise not to drink? Would that make you happy?’

  ‘Very. But I’m not staying, so quit hassling me.’ He looked at his watch and groaned inwardly. They’d been at it for over eight hours now and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. For two pins he’d throw the script down and walk out of here. But he wasn’t going to do that, not when, in her better moments, she exhibited a real talent. He knew everyone thought he was crazy for taking her on, for even considering going ahead with a period piece, but this story had something and once they got to grips with it they were going to come up with one hell of a movie. So there was no point dwelling on the pleasure that walking out on her would give him for it would only be fleeting. Besides, she was only difficult this way when he was; at other times she could be as compliant and innovative as she could be outrageous and amusing and if the truth be told he had a real fondness for her.

  ‘That silly bitch of a wife of yours been needling you again?’ she drawled, the bracelets around her wrists clanging together as she lifted a hand to pat her untidy red hair.

  ‘It’s you who’s needling me, Ruby, so can we get on with it?’

  ‘I don’t know why you put up with her,’ Ruby commented, as though he hadn’t spoken. ‘She didn’t grow up yet. It’s like you got two kids in that house.’

  ‘My family is my affair,’ Laurence said tightly.

  ‘Is that right? Well bully for you, is all I can say.’

  Laurence slammed down his script. ‘Pour yourself a drink, Ruby.’

  Her eyes darted suspiciously to his. ‘Why? You going some place?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So what’s with the “pour yourself a drink?”’

  ‘Just do it!’

  While Ruby went off in search of a fresh bottle of gin Laurence walked over to her cluttered desk, moved aside several days’ worth of cigarette butts and a stale sandwich and picked up the telephone. He’d wanted to be home in time to see Tom before he went to bed, but that wasn’t going to be possible now.

  ‘Hi, Jane,’ he said when he heard her voice at the other end. ‘Is Tom in bed yet?’

  ‘Just going.’

  ‘Put him on, will you?’

  He waited a few seconds until Tom’s chirpy voice came down the line. They talked for a while and Laurence felt his tension start to ebb as his son recounted his day then asked when he was coming home.

  ‘I’m gonna be late tonight, soldier,’ Laurence said. ‘But I’ll be there in the morning.’

  ‘For Humpty Dumpty?’

&nb
sp; ‘If that’s what you want,’ Laurence laughed. ‘You gonna put Mummy on now?’

  ‘OK. ‘Night-night, Daddy.’

  ‘Good night, son.’

  ‘Hi.’ Pippa’s gentle voice came through the receiver a second or two later. ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Badly.’

  ‘You’re still there, at Ruby’s?’

  ‘Still here.’

  ‘What time will you be home?’

  ‘Difficult to say. I’m gonna hang on in for a while, see if the gin softens her up a bit.’

  ‘What about dinner?’

  ‘I’ll grab a sandwich when I get home. Anyway, how are you doing? How’s your day been?’

  ‘Pretty good. I’ve got myself a new client, an author who’s just been poached from Hoddards by Strachans. Strachans have asked me to take her on.’

  ‘Great.’

  There was a pause before Pippa said, ‘Darling, I’m sorry about this morning.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I shouldn’t have gone off leaving things the way they were.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you too.’

  ‘Shall I wait up?’

  Again Laurence looked at his watch. He was tempted to tell her no, but he sorely wanted to see her tonight. ‘I won’t be back until around midnight at this rate,’ he said.

  ‘That’s all right.’

  ‘We gonna finish what we started this morning?’ he said lowering his voice.

  ‘That was the general idea,’ Pippa answered and he could hear the smile in her voice.

  When he rang off he turned to see Ruby standing in the doorway, a bottle in one hand a glass in the other. ‘Can I fix you one?’ she offered, the unmistakable note of seduction in her voice.

  ‘No, thank you,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ she shrugged and sauntered back to the couch, her tight fitting canary-yellow suit making even stranger movements than her no longer willowy body. ‘So,’ she said, as she sat down, ‘you reckon a drop of the juice is going to soften the old bird up, is that right?’

  ‘I see you’ve added eavesdropping to your list of unattractive habits,’ Laurence retorted.

  Ruby chuckled. ‘My, are you a touchy boy. Come on, sit down, let’s see what’s to be done here.’

  Laurence eyed her. He’d have liked to think that it was simply the gin that was persuading her to be reasonable, but he knew better. For sure that would be a part of it, but she’d obviously heard him telling Pippa how late he’d be and now that she was confident she was going to have him to herself for the evening she’d decided to mellow.

  They continued on for another hour during which, to his relief, Ruby really got down to it. He couldn’t deny it, when she was good she was damned good, a natural in fact, especially with dialogue, he just wished her moments of eloquence weren’t so erratic. But she was right when she said they needed a director. Trouble was, the guy Laurence wanted for the project was tied up in Hollywood and though there were any number of others he could choose from he hadn’t managed to come up with anyone he felt totally suited.

  Feeling her eyes on him as he jotted down some changes in stage direction he looked up. She was smiling, quite happily, but her eyes had that tell-tale glassy look about them.

  ‘You know,’ she sighed, ‘I just can’t get over what a real handsome boy you are. Why don’t you come sit here,’ she said, patting the cushion, ‘let me get a better look at you.’

  Laurence sighed. ‘OK, let’s call it a day,’ he said reaching for his briefcase.

  ‘Oh don’t go,’ Ruby slurred, her blurry eyes blinking up at him. ‘We were getting along . . .’

  ‘Just fine,’ he interrupted. ‘But if you’re going to start in on that then we’re going nowhere.’

  Ruby attempted to stagger to her feet, but Laurence pushed her back again, picked up the bottle on the table beside her and stuck it into her hand. ‘Good night, Ruby,’ he said starting for the door.

  ‘I love you, Laurence,’ she called after him.

  When he was outside he took several lungfuls of fresh air before getting into his car. He glanced up at the window of Ruby’s apartment and saw her staring down at him, but as she started to heave the window open he turned away.

  He was on the point of closing the car door when he heard her yell. ‘Dump the stupid bitch! Get her out from around your neck! You don’t need her, I’m telling you.’

  Laurence simply closed the door, turned on the ignition and drove off into the night. The first thing he’d do when he returned home was take a shower, he decided. It was the way he often felt when leaving Ruby’s, but unfortunately no soap in the world could wash away the way she sometimes made him feel inside. Just thank God he had Pippa to go home to, and Tom of course, and recalling the way Pippa had sounded on the telephone earlier he pressed down harder on the accelerator.

  It wasn’t until he reached Hammersmith that he remembered he was supposed to have called Alison back some time during the day. Well, she wouldn’t worry too much that he hadn’t, she’d fit him into her schedule somewhere over the next few days, the way she usually did.

  He sighed wearily as a wave of guilt washed over him. He didn’t rate those who took others for granted too highly, and that was just what he was doing with Alison. She’d probably worked her butt off during the day to be ready for him when he called and now he was going to repay her by not even bothering to pick up the phone.

  Well that was easily remedied, he told himself, swinging the car across the three lanes of traffic and veering off towards the Hammersmith roundabout. Pippa wasn’t expecting him until much later so he’d pop round and see Alison now.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Alison said, some twenty minutes later as she handed him a cup of coffee. Her wild yellow hair was sticking out around her face like the petals of a sunflower, and with the splashes of green velvet plastered strategically over the transparent mesh of her figure-hugging mini-dress and the clumsy, brown Doctor Marten boots she looked about ready for the Chelsea Flower Show. ‘Have I got your imagination piqued?’ she asked.

  ‘You sure have,’ Laurence grinned turning back to the model. ‘Truth is though that I’m still not convinced about any of the London scenes.’

  ‘What! You mean my talents haven’t caused poetry to flow from your every orifice?’ Alison cried, clasping her hands to her heart.

  Laurence smiled. ‘Not poetry, no. But you’ve given me an idea. Or at least confirmed one I had a few days ago.’

  ‘Oh Christ, you’re going to pay me with your body!’ Alison gasped. ‘I knew it. I just knew I’d get into your knickers some day . . .’

  ‘My pocket, more like,’ Laurence laughed. ‘I’m going to pay for you to go to New Orleans with Ruby and do some research there. I’ve got this theory that if we can get that end of things standing up then the London end will just fall into place.’

  ‘Sounds reasonable,’ Alison said, being serious for a moment. ‘But what about you? Don’t you want to take a look at the place?’

  ‘Sure. I’m off to LA the week after next to speak to some distributors. Maybe I can catch up with you in New Orleans when I’ve finished.”

  ‘I’d be grateful if you did. Handling Ruby Collins on my own isn’t my idea of fun. Anyway, now you’ve brought up New Orleans I’ll give you what I’ve done so far. No, I know you didn’t ask me to, but I thought I would anyway. I’ve had to do it all from books and it’s only rough, but you’ll be able to see which way I’m thinking, ’cos to my mind the murder scene and the hanging scenes are fucking dull the way they stand. Visually they can be a dream, but we’ve got to have the right action, right dialogue. Darren,’ she said, turning to her boyfriend who was sitting behind them at his drawing board, ‘have you still got that stuff I gave you to look at? The stuff for New Orleans?’

  ‘Right here,’ he said, reaching over to the next drawing board and picking up a sheaf of sketches and handing them to La
urence. ‘Got yourself a director yet?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Laurence answered. ‘To be truthful, Darren, we can’t afford one right now, but I guess with the right guy on board the finance might be a lot easier to raise.’

  ‘Still no luck on that front?’ Darren said.

  ‘Uh-uh,’ Lawrence answered shaking his head. ‘But I got a few irons in the fire.’ He flicked through the sketches for several minutes, then said to Alison, ‘I’ll take these with me if I can and call you in a couple of days to sort out the New Orleans trip. Simon Howard’s just come on board to help with the research, he’ll go with you too. I’ll get him to organize the flights. Contact Ruby in the meantime will you, get her to give you the rewrites we discussed today.’

  When he at last arrived home Pippa was already in bed, though sitting up reading a manuscript, with a plate of sandwiches one side of her and a bottle of wine the other.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, putting aside the manuscript as he came to sit on the edge of the bed.

  ‘You look busy.’

  ‘Nothing that can’t wait. You look tired.’

  ‘Battered, I think is the word. Got a kiss for your old man?’

  Pippa leaned forward, put her arms around his neck and brought his mouth to hers. ‘That feel better?’ she said a while later.

  ‘Much,’ he murmured, then she laughed and pulled away as he scratched the stubble of his beard over her cheek.

  ‘Hungry?’ she asked.

  ‘Starving. I’ll just take a shower,’ he yawned, ‘then fix myself something to eat. Those sandwiches look good.’

  ‘There’s a proper dinner downstairs,’ Pippa told him as she started to get out of bed. ‘I’ll pop it in the microwave for you.’

  ‘Come here,’ Laurence said, reaching for her as she passed.

  For some time he simply held her loosely about the waist, gazing down into her almost childlike face.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, smiling up at him.

  ‘Just that I’m sorry about this morning,’ he said gruffly. ‘And that I love you.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Very much.’

  ‘So where did you go after Ruby’s this evening?’ she asked benignly.