Greta felt like a star herself as the car stopped at the gates of Rainbow Pictures and the driver gave their names to the security guard. They were waved through and Greta looked in fascination as they drove past a number of what resembled large aircraft hangars. She thought of how she’d once dreamed of getting the call to come here to audition herself, and a tingle ran through her.
The driver pulled up in front of the main reception. ‘I’ll wait out here until you’ve finished. Good luck, miss.’ He tipped his hat and smiled at Cheska as they climbed out.
Greta took Cheska’s hand and walked through the entrance doors, explaining to the receptionist who they were.
‘Please do sit down over there, Mrs Simpson. Mr Day’s secretary will be down to collect you shortly,’ the receptionist said, pointing to a sofa.
‘Thank you.’ Greta led Cheska over to the small waiting area and gazed at the stills from various famous films that decorated the walls. I mustn’t build my hopes up, or Cheska’s, she told herself firmly. After a while a smart young woman holding a clipboard appeared from a lift and walked towards them.
‘Mrs Simpson and Cheska?’
‘Yes.’
‘Would you like to follow me?’
Greta hastily smoothed her daughter’s curls and squeezed her hand before they were shown into a big office dominated by a large desk behind which a man of about thirty-five was sitting.
‘Mrs Simpson and Cheska, sir,’ announced the secretary.
‘Thank you, Janet.’ The man stood up. ‘Mrs Simpson, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Charles Day, the director of Dark Horse. Please do come and sit down.’ He gestured to two chairs in front of his desk. Greta sat Cheska in one and took the other herself.
‘And this, I presume, is Cheska?’
‘How do you do, sir?’ said Cheska in a small voice.
His eyes twinkled in amusement. ‘Very well indeed, thank you. Well, young lady, do you know why you’re here?’
‘Oh yes. So I can be in a film and wear pretty dresses like Shirley Temple.’
‘That’s right. And would this be something you’d like to do?’
‘Oh yes, sir,’ repeated Cheska.
Charles turned his attention to Greta. ‘Leon Bronowski is absolutely right. Your daughter does resemble Jane Fuller. Could you turn to look at Mummy, Cheska?’ he asked.
She did as she was told, and Charles studied her.
‘A likeness in profile as well. Good, good. Now, Mrs Simpson, Mr Bronowski says you’d be prepared to chaperone your daughter?’
‘I would, yes.’
‘Although we start shooting on Monday week, Cheska’s scenes won’t be filmed until a couple of weeks after that. We’d contract her for a month, but we obviously wouldn’t have her working more than a few hours a day. Would that fit into your plans comfortably?’
Greta nodded. ‘Yes, that sounds fine.’
‘Excellent. Mr Bronowski tells me Cheska behaves like an angel.’
‘She’s a good little girl, yes.’
‘Well, that stands very much in her favour. There’s nothing worse than a spoilt brat having a temper tantrum when one has the cameras rolling. Time is money. Are you a good girl, Cheska?’
‘I think so, sir.’
‘And I think so, too. If we put you in this big picture, you’d have to promise to be on your best behaviour.’
‘I promise, sir.’
‘Right. I think I’ve seen all I need to, Mrs Simpson. We’re interviewing two more little girls this morning and I’ll be in touch with Leon when I’ve made my decision. Thank you very much for coming all this way to see me. It’s been a pleasure to meet the two of you. Goodbye.’
‘Thank you, Mr Day.’ Greta stood up. ‘Come on, darling.’
Cheska wriggled out of her chair and, of her own volition, stood on tiptoe to reach over the big desk. She put out her hand and Charles took it, smiling.
‘Goodbye, sir,’ she said, then turned and trotted out of the room after her mother.
‘Charles Day on the telephone for you, Leon.’
‘Thank you, Barbara. Hello?’
‘Leon, it’s Charles. That kid you sent to me today is everything you said she was. If she can act as well, we’ve got an English Shirley Temple on our hands.’
‘Cute, isn’t she?’
‘Adorable. Apart from looking like an angel, she has that wonderful vulnerability of a young Margaret O’Brien or Elizabeth Taylor. Needless to say, we want her for the part. Even though it’s a small one, it’ll give the studio a chance to take a look at how she comes across on camera without there being any pressure on her. Have you signed her up yet?’
‘No. I was waiting to hear from you.’
‘Then wait no longer. I could be wrong, but Cheska has star quality, and you know what a rare commodity that is. I see big things ahead for her.’
‘Indeed.’
‘We’ll need to change her surname. Simpson is far too dull.’
‘Right. I’ll put my thinking cap on.’
Having heard the excitement in Charles Day’s voice, Leon discussed terms and was able to extract a generous fee for Cheska, and for Greta as her chaperone. He put the telephone down feeling the kind of buzz he only experienced when his nose for talent was proved right.
Mabel knocked on Greta’s front door at half past four that afternoon, out of breath from hurrying up the stairs.
‘There’s a Mr Leon Bronosk— somebody on the telephone for you, Greta.’
‘Thank you, Mabel. Could you watch Cheska for a few minutes while I go and talk to him?’
She hurried down to Mabel’s flat and picked up the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘Greta. It’s Leon. Charles Day just called and he wants Cheska for the part.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’
‘I’m glad you’re pleased. Charles was very impressed with her. He thinks Cheska might be a real find.’
‘You are sure this won’t do Cheska any harm, Leon? I mean, she’s so young.’
‘Well, Shirley Temple was even younger when she appeared in her first film. And besides, even though Charles liked her, it’s wrong to get carried away until we’ve seen what she looks like on the big screen. The camera either loves you or it doesn’t. We’ll have to wait and see whether it’ll be her friend or her enemy.’
‘Of course.’
‘Now, I think you’ll be pleased with the fee I’ve extracted for Cheska. If she does well, Rainbow Pictures may want to sign her up long term. Then we’ll really be talking. But for now, how does five hundred pounds sound?’
Like two years of hard work at my old job, thought Greta. ‘Fine,’ she squeaked. ‘Thank you.’
‘Good. And you’ll also be paid ten pounds a day for chaperoning Cheska. Can you come to my office on Friday morning? I’ll need you to sign the contract on her behalf. Oh, and Greta, Charles Day wants to change her surname to something a bit more glamorous. You wouldn’t object to that, would you?’
‘No, not at all.’ Simpson wasn’t Cheska’s real surname anyway, she thought.
‘Right, see you on Friday, then. Goodbye.’
Greta put down the receiver, did a little jig of excitement in Mabel’s hall, then dashed upstairs to tell her daughter.
‘Starring in a film, are we? Cor, you’ll soon be too posh to speak to the likes of me.’ Mabel smiled at Cheska and chucked her cheek affectionately.
David arrived a little later with a big bar of Nestlé chocolate for Cheska and a bottle of champagne for Greta.
‘Who’s a clever girl, then?’ He picked Cheska up and hugged her. ‘I knew she’d get it, Greta. She’s such a little angel, aren’t you, sweetheart?’
‘Yes, Uncle David.’ Cheska nodded seriously and the adults laughed.
‘To bed with you, young lady. You’re not Elizabeth Taylor yet, you know.’ Greta winked at David.
When Greta had tucked her in, and David had told her a story, acting out all the characters, which
brought gales of giggles from the bedroom, Greta and David sat down in the cramped sitting room and drank the champagne.
‘You do think I’m doing the right thing, don’t you?’ Greta asked.
‘It is only a few days’ filming, Greta. If Cheska hates it, she never has to do it again. My guess is she’ll be spoilt rotten by the rest of the cast and have a wonderful time. And, let’s be honest, the money will come in handy for both of you, won’t it?’ David hadn’t failed to notice the shabbiness of the flat, nor the fact that Greta’s skirt and blouse looked distinctly threadbare.
‘Yes, it will, although I feel awfully guilty that Cheska has to earn it for us.’
‘Well, at least you’ll see more of her, instead of leaving her with your neighbour all day.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Good. Now, stop worrying, and have another glass of champagne.’
Greta arrived with Cheska at Leon’s office in Golden Square in Soho at eleven thirty on Friday morning. She looked at the photographs on the wall of his large office as the two of them were ushered in to sit down.
‘That’s you with Jane Fuller, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, on the set of her first picture, ten years ago now,’ Leon replied. ‘Now, let’s get down to business.’
Greta listened as Leon explained that he would handle Cheska’s career and take ten per cent of her earnings. She signed where he indicated and he smiled.
‘Right, now it only leaves us to think of a new surname for Cheska. If we don’t come up with one, the studio will pick it for her, and I think it’s your right to choose. What about family names? What was your mother’s maiden name?’
‘Hammond.’
‘Cheska Hammond. I like that. We’ll put it to the studio and see what they think. Well, I believe that’s everything.’ He rose to his feet to signal that the meeting was over. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I know her official call date and I’ll send you a script. Thank you for coming, Greta. I’m sure Cheska will do us both proud, won’t you?’
‘Yes, Mr Leon,’ Cheska replied. ‘Goodbye.’
Three weeks later Cheska went in front of the camera for the first time. Greta hovered off set and watched her daughter sitting on Jane Fuller’s knee.
‘Right, quiet studio!’ called out Charles. ‘Okay, we’re going to try Cheska with a line. Cheska, when I say “Go!”, can you put your arms around Jane’s neck and say, “I love you, Mummy”?’
‘Yes, Mr Day.’
‘Good girl. All right. Let’s go for a take.’
A hush fell over the studio.
‘Scene ten. Take one.’ The clapperboard snapped shut and Charles smiled encouragingly at Cheska. ‘Go!’
Cheska put her arms round Jane Fuller’s elegant neck and hugged her.
‘I love you, Mummy,’ she said, gazing up at the actress as the camera zoomed in for a close-up of her face.
Greta watched with tears in her eyes. ‘And I love you, Cheska,’ she whispered.
Charles Day watched the rushes with one of Rainbow Picture’s top executives. Cheska Hammond was the most natural, beguiling child actress either of them had ever seen.
‘You said she’ll remember lines if you tell her what to say?’ asked the executive.
‘She did today, anyway,’ answered Charles.
‘Right, get as many one-liners in as you can, without offending Jane, of course. We don’t want her to know she’s being upstaged by a four-year-old,’ he said with a chuckle.
Excerpt from Picturegoer Monthly
March 1951
Dark Horse is the new release from Rainbow Pictures. Its director, Charles Day, is being hailed as the new English Selznick, and it is acclaim that is justified by what can only be described as a moving and powerful film.
Jane Fuller and Roger Curtis star, both giving excellent performances as estranged husband and wife, with the comedian David (Taffy) Marchmont making his film debut and adding a touch of sensitive humour to his role as a failed card sharp. But what they say about never acting with children and animals comes home to roost in this film. Four-year-old Cheska Hammond’s cameo as the couple’s daughter is a scene-stealer. Word is that her part was enlarged as soon as Charles Day saw her potential. Rainbow Pictures have placed her under a three-picture contract and her next film is already in production.
Go and see Dark Horse; I guarantee there won’t be a dry eye in the house when Miss Hammond’s final, poignant scene hits the screen. I predict a glittering future for her.
Christmas Day, 1985
Marchmont Hall, Monmouthshire, Wales
16
‘Mary, have you seen Greta recently?’ David asked as he walked into the kitchen to find her setting out cold turkey and ham with pickles and salad.
‘Last time I saw her was a few hours ago, when she asked me for some boots and a coat so she could go for a walk. Look you, maybe she’s back and up in her room taking a nap.’
‘Yes, probably.’
‘Shall I bring up this supper now or later?’ Mary asked him.
David looked at his watch and saw it was almost half past seven. ‘Why don’t you leave it in here instead of carting it all into the dining room, and we can come in and pick at what we want? You’ve had a long day, Mary, and it’s about time you put your feet up.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Completely.’
‘All right then, Master David, I will,’ she said gratefully. ‘And thank you for my cashmere cardigan. I’ve never owned anything so luxurious.’
‘You deserve it, Mary. I don’t know what this family would do without you,’ David smiled at her before leaving the kitchen to go upstairs and check on Greta. He knocked on the door of her bedroom and, receiving no response, after a second try he opened it quietly.
‘Greta? Greta?’ The room was in darkness and David fumbled on the wall to find the light switch. There was no one there and, judging by the neatly made bed, Greta hadn’t been up to take a nap. David’s heart somersaulted. He searched all the upstairs rooms, and asked Ava if she’d seen her grandmother. She hadn’t, so David conducted a search downstairs as well.
‘Have you lost something, David?’ Tor looked up from the biography of Mao Zedong he had bought her for Christmas.
‘Greta, actually. She went out for a walk earlier and she hasn’t reappeared yet.’
‘Do you want me to come and help look for her?’
‘No, it’s absolutely freezing out there. I’m sure she won’t have gone far. Back in a bit.’ David opened the front door, his conversation with Tor not betraying the fear he felt. If Greta had been out there since mid-afternoon, and perhaps got lost, she could be freezing to death by now.
He switched on the powerful torch he’d brought with him and trudged off through the snow. As he walked, it crunched and crackled under the weight of his boots.
‘Think, David, think . . . Where could she have gone?’ he muttered to himself.
The truth was, the answer was anywhere, for if Greta couldn’t remember Marchmont, then it was highly unlikely there was any specific place she’d want to head for. After checking both the front and back gardens, he decided to walk into the woods. It was as good a place as any to look.
He remembered then how Greta had originally arrived at Marchmont Hall on a Christmas Day long ago, having sprained her ankle in the woods, and felt a sense of déjà vu as he walked through the trees, the light of his torch illuminating the glittering fairyland surrounding him, which belied the danger Greta might be in if she was still somewhere out here.
Arriving at the clearing which contained Jonny’s grave, he called out to Greta and, to his relief, heard a faint cry of response.
‘Greta, are you all right? Keep talking to me, and I’ll head in the direction of your voice!’
After a few moments the beam of his torch picked her up; she was stumbling through the snow towards him. He ran to her and saw that she was shivering uncontrollably, her cheeks streaked with ribbons of mascar
a.
‘What on earth are you doing out here, darling?’ David said, taking off his thick ski jacket, putting it round her shoulders and closing his arms about her to try to warm her up.
‘David! I’ve remembered! I’ve remembered all about my parents, and Jonny, and the reason I came to Marchmont, and . . .’ With that, she crumpled into his arms, sobbing.
Sweeping her up, David carried Greta back through the woods towards the house. On the way back she continued to tell him what she now knew, the words tumbling out in a disjointed torrent.
‘I’ve remembered all about the GI, and being at the Windmill and why I ended up there and . . . everything! Oh God, David, I can remember it all. Up to Marchmont, that is, and Jonny’s death, but after that it’s all still a bit unclear.’
‘Right,’ David said, as he carried her into the kitchen where Tor, Ava and Simon were helping themselves to supper. ‘Greta got lost in the woods and I’m taking her upstairs for a hot bath. Tor, could you make a hot-water bottle, please, and a cup of strong, sweet tea and bring them upstairs?’
‘Of course. Anything else?’
‘Not for now. Let’s get her warm, and then she might have some wonderful news for us all.’
Upstairs, David helped Greta off with her outer clothes, as she was still shivering violently, then closed the bathroom door behind him. He turned and found Tor standing in the bedroom with the tea.
‘What’s happened, David? You looked almost euphoric when you arrived back with Greta. Not exactly the reaction I’d expect after rescuing someone who might have died from hypothermia.’
‘Tor,’ he said, keeping his voice to a whisper so Greta couldn’t hear, ‘I don’t know the details yet, but Greta told me she’s remembered. Some things, anyway. Isn’t that wonderful? After all these years.’
Tor could see David had tears of joy in his eyes. ‘Yes, it is. A real Christmas miracle.’
‘It must be coming back here to Marchmont that’s done it. Goodness, if only I’d been able to persuade her to come years ago . . .’
‘Well, perhaps she wasn’t ready. Anyway, I can’t wait to hear all about it. I’m amazed she didn’t freeze to death out there; you must have found her in the nick of time.’
The Angel Tree Page 15
