'Don't apologize,' Frances said. 'I don't blame you.' Both First and Morris Moskva had emphasized that the Continuity Girl was the hardest-working member of the Unit. She was the first to arrive on the set in the morning and the last to leave at night, after spending hours hunched over her typewriter typing out lists of the minutiae of every scene that had been shot, and what would be needed for the next day's shooting. It might be the names of the stars that sold the picture but, if anyone deserved a little extra cossetting on the set, it was the Continuity Girl.
'Thanks,' Continuity said again, with a wan smile. 'I don't like to be downbeat, but this picture is beginning to show all the earmarks of a very difficult production. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be jinxed.'
'Quiet!' The command rang out. 'Quiet on the set!' There a pause to ensure that the command had been obeyed, then, 'All right. Roll them.'
The fringe lights went out, the arcs brightened, there came the sharp snap of the clapperboard, then Twinkle began to speak.
'But, Miss Minchin - '
'Cut!' Dick Brouder said, ten minutes later, for the final time. So far as Frances could judge, it had been a perfect take. The others seemed to feel it also. A hum of approval arose from the watchers as the arcs dimmed and Cecile Savoy and Twinkle moved away from their places.
'Fine,' Dick Brouder endorsed. 'That was great. We're really moving along now. If we can keep going like this, we'll wrap it up well under schedule.' He moved forward, with further private words of cheer for his stars.
Twinkle seemed uneasy, Frances noticed. Despite Dick Brouder's praise, Twinkle was wriggling unhappily, glancing constantly towards the sidelines. She seemed anxious to get away and, when Dick Brouder switched his attention to Cecile Savoy, Twinkle bolted.
'You were wonderful, baby!' She was caught up in her mother's arms. 'You really showed them!'
'Yeah, yeah,' Twinkle said, squirming free. 'Let's get back to the hotel now, huh ?'
'You're tired, aren't you, baby?' Laurenda stroked her hair. 'None of these characters ever realizes - ' she appealed to Frances for additional sympathy - 'how much all this takes it out of the artistes. They think it's easy. Of course, that's because they've never done it themselves.'
'Yes,' Frances agreed abstractedly, wondering why Twinkle was watching Cecile Savoy so intently.
'And you've drunk all your milk, like a good girl,' Laurenda crooned. 'Now, why don't you go into your dressing-room and lie down for half an hour or so ? I've still got to get a few things seen to - '
'No! I want to go now!' Twinkle snarled.
'I'm not quite ready yet, baby,' Laurenda said patiently. 'If you don't want to lie down, why don't you sit down and have another stick of gum and - '
'I don't have any more gum,' Twinkle said. 'I want to go and get some more.'
'More?' Laurenda seemed startled. 'But, honey, you had four packs this morning. I bought them for you myself.'
'Well, I used them all,' Twinkle defended. 'I - I was nervous - ' She groped for an explanation. 'All this stuff- it really takes it out of me.'
'Sure it does, baby.' Laurenda shot a triumphant look at Frances. 'That's just what I've been saying.'
'So, let's go now? Twinkle whined.
Cecile Savoy had finished her conversation with Dick Brouder and was moving towards the chair where Fleur-de-lis waited rapturously to greet her.
Twinkle quailed visibly. 'Let's get out of here,' she said.
But it was too late.
Cecile Savoy had had a fine soprano in her heyday and it was still powerful as it vibrated in a series of rising shrieks that tore through the atmosphere. Half an octave higher and she would have shattered the arc lights. As it was, all the lighter-weight props on the set quivered. So did every human being within earshot.
'Cecile! Miss Savoy! Cecile!' People came running from all corners of the set, converging on the source of the screams. 'What's the matter? Are you all right?'
Surrounded by an audience, Cecile Savoy took a deep breath and her screams reached new heights. A boom camera quivered and had to be dollied back hastily.
'Cecile, darling, what's wrong?' Mr Herkimer was quivering too. He and his partner had come racing across the set from their office.
'All right, Cecile,' Mr Torrington said. 'What is it?'
'Fleur-de-lis! My beautiful little Fleur! She's ruined! Destroyed!' Cecile Savoy held out the Pekinese, which was yelping merrily at being the centre of attention. Fleur seemed far from destroyed or ruined
-although she appeared to be attached to her mistress by strange dun-coloured strands, rather like sticky umbilical cords.
Filled with foreboding, Frances ventured nearer. She glanced back over her shoulder, but both Twinkle and Laurenda had disappeared.
'The dog looks all right to me,' Tor Torrington said, unfeelingly. 'What's the matter with it?'
'Matter? Matter?' Cecile Savoy gave fresh evidence that she could have been a magnificent
tragedienne had she not opted for the lighter side. 'Just look at her!'
'She looks all right to me.' Tor Torrington bent closer and inspected the Peke, who met him halfway.
They remained nose-to-nose for a moment, then Tor straightened. 'Smells a bit pungent,' he said.
'Peppermint, I think.'
He extended a tentative hand, dodging past the welcoming wet nose, and let it settle on Fleur's back.
'She's sticky,' he announced. He lifted the hand to his own nose. 'And that's what smells of peppermint.'
'It's gum!' Cecile Savoy declared.
'Gum!' Mr Herkimer echoed dismally. He looked around and did not seem surprised at the absence of the one he was looking for.
Gum. Frances stared at the hapless Fleur-de-lis, who was quite unaware of her predicament. Her matted plume waved contentedly and she accepted being the focus of all eyes as merely her due. She yelped again complacently. Four packs of gum.
'Ruined!' Cecile Savoy mourned. 'Ruined!' She might have been mourning a convent-educated
daughter, now lost for ever.
'Scissors!' Mr Herkimer diagnosed, his enthusiasm in solving a problem triumphing over his tact.
'They're the only way. My daughter by my second wife got her hair full of the stuff once. There was nothing else the hairdresser could do. She was the first girl in the neighbourhood with a crew-cut.'
He met Cecile Savoy's steely gaze and seemed to realize that he had been less than diplomatic. 'Well, that was years ago, of course. Maybe a vet would know of something - '
'Ruined!' Cecile Savoy repeated with finality. 'It will take ages for her fur to grow out properly again.
And I'd planned on showing her at Cruft's next year.'
'Look on the bright side,' Mr Herkimer pleaded. 'At least, the dog is still healthy. It will just look lousy for a few months.'
Cecile quelled him with a glance. 'I shall report this to Equity!' she thundered. 'I shall insist that disciplinary action be taken. Where is that little brat - ?' She looked out over the assembled crowd, searching for the culprit who had long since fled.
'Now, take it easy, Cecile.' Mr Herkimer was quivering again. 'You don't want to drag Equity into this.
It's only a childish prank.'
'Childish prank! It was deliberate malice! Against my poor, innocent Fleur - ' For a moment, Cecile Savoy was incoherent with rage. Tor Torrington used that moment to take her by the arm and lead her off the set.
'There's no time to be lost, Cecile,' his firm voice carried back to the others. 'We must get her to a vet at once - before that stuff hardens any more. We can deal with the problem of Twinkle later.'
'All right, folks,' Dick Brouder said flatly. 'That's it for today. Be on hand first thing in the morning.' He turned and walked off the set dispiritedly.
'If there is a morning.' The murmur was untraceable, but obviously gave the general opinion. The technicians silently began closing down for the day.
As Frances left the set, she heard the lone
ly rattle of the Continuity Girl's typewriter begin somewhere in the distance behind her.
CHAPTER X
'Frances, dear,' the voice on the telephone said warmly. 'I realize it's terribly short notice, but we were wondering if you could possibly come to dinner tonight ? It's just a small party but - '
'I'm sorry,' Frances said, struggling to identify the voice. 'I'm very busy these days. Perhaps another - '
'But, Frances,' the voice wailed, 'we were so hoping you could come. We were counting on you.' The voice changed and became peremptory. 'I do think you ought to come.'
'I'm sorry,' Frances surrendered. 'Who is this?'
'Frances!' A shock wave travelled along the wires. 'It's me - Amanda. Your daughter-in-law.' In case there should be any doubt remaining, she added, 'Simon's wife.'
'I'm sorry, dear. I couldn't hear your voice clearly.' Mendaciously, Frances threw the blame on to the telephone connection. 'It's a very poor line, isn't it?'
'Just the same, I do think you might have known me,' Amanda grumbled, her ego obviously badly bruised. 'I'm the only daughter-in-law you have.'
'I'm sorry,' Frances apologized again. 'I simply wasn't thinking about you - I mean - ' she added hastily, before Amanda could take further umbrage, 'I couldn't place the voice. I'm meeting so many new people these days, and hearing so many different voices - '
There was also the fact, although she did not add this, that the content of the conversation, as well as the voice, had been completely unfamiliar. Her daughter-in-law had never seen fit to invite her to a dinner-party before.
'Yes, we read in the papers that Twinkle had arrived and that filming had started.' Amanda's voice was elaborately casual. 'We'd thought you might ring us, or come over.'
'Why?' Frances asked blankly. Amanda had never encouraged the idea of ringing her up - far less dropping in.
'Why, to tell us all about it,' Amanda said. 'We are your family, after all.'
'Oh yes,' Frances said, light beginning to dawn. Amanda was a snob and now, for the first time, her mother-in-law had become a potential social asset and was, therefore, worth cultivating. But Amanda had never been a confidante, and it was a bit late for her to try to become one now. Apart from which, Frances discovered in herself a curious reluctance to betray the problems of the Film Unit. It seemed that a new set of loyalties was being established.
'But you will come to dinner tonight, won't you?'
Amanda cajoled. 'Now that you know it's me?'
'I'm sorry, dear,' Frances said. 'But I'm not working regular hours - I can never tell what time I'll be getting away. Perhaps some other time. After this job is over - ' She found that she did not wish to contemplate such a time.
'Yes . . .' Neither, it seemed, did Amanda. 'But I hope we'll see you before that.'
'I'll try,' Frances temporized. 'But I must leave for the Studio now. I'm supposed to be there when Twinkle arrives. So, if you'll excuse me - ' She rang off while Amanda was still assuring her of complete understanding.
'There you are, Frances.' Mr Herkimer hurried forward as she arrived on the set. 'Good. We've been trying to get you, but your phone was busy.' He looked at her accusingly. 'It was out of order, maybe?'
'No,' Frances said, 'I was talking to someone.' He looked at her expectantly, but she did not elaborate. It would have sounded dull in this atmosphere to admit that she had only been talking to her daughter-in-law.
'Ah, well.' After a long moment, Mr Herkimer sighed and admitted defeat. 'You're here now. And ahead of Twinkle - which is why I wanted to talk to you. You're going to have to take care of her all by yourself today. Do you think you can manage all right?'
'Yes, I can manage, I suppose.' Frances was startled. 'But what about her mother?'
'Laurenda's sick again.' Mr Herkimer twitched an eyebrow meaningfully. 'We've sent the company car to pick Twinkle up at the hotel and she ought to be here any minute. I'm glad you got here ahead of her.'
'You mean - ' Frances was still shocked - 'that Laurenda is going to let Twinkle come on the set alone ?
After yesterday?'
'Well,' Mr Herkimer shrugged. 'You're here.'
It wasn't the same and Mr Herkimer knew it. No wonder Twinkle was so aggressive - she had learned that no one else was going to stand up for her. She was on her own and she had to fight her own battles.
It must have been a grim lesson for a child to learn.
'It's not the same,' Frances said.
'Maybe not.' Mr Herkimer shook his head. 'But Twinkle is wearing everybody out. Maybe you'd be doing her a favour if you could make her realize it. The way things are now, everybody is just waiting for the Awkward Age to set in. Yes, even me - ' He raised his eyes prayerfully.
'The minute it starts, she's finished. Just let her teeth or her tits start to stick out,' he said, with relish.
'Just let her shoot up taller than her leading man - and that's it.' He smiled beatifically. 'She's finished!'
'Do me a favour, Herkie.' Unnoticed, Twinkle had come up behind them. 'Hold your breath while you're waiting.'
'Ah, there you are, my little darling.' Mr Herkimer made a quick recovery. 'Sweet as ever.'
'Where's the Director?' Twinkle ignored him, looking across the set anxiously. 'Isn't Dick Brouder here today? If he isn't, I'm going straight back again.'
'I'm here,' Dick Brouder said grimly, appearing as silently as Twinkle had. 'You needn't worry.' He stood over her. 'Open your mouth.'
'Listen, you don't have to act like that - '
'Open your mouth!' he thundered.
Momentarily subdued, Twinkle opened her mouth.
'Wider!' He bent forward and stared into it. 'All right.' He straightened up. 'Now open your bag.'
'You don't have to - ' Twinkle began to back away. Dick Brouder followed her relentlessly.
'Open that bag!'
'There's nothing in it.' Reluctantly, she opened her bag and let him examine it. There was quite a lot in it, but not what he was searching for.
'All right.' He straightened as far as eye level with her. 'Now understand this. Gum is barred from this set. Today and for the rest of the shooting. If once - even once - I catch your jaws moving and there isn't dialogue coming out of your mouth, I'll have you up before Equity faster than Cecile Savoy would.'
'All right for you, Brouder.' Twinkle's small face was so pinched and hate-filled it was hard to believe that it could register the famous winsome charm when the cameras were trained on it. 'I'll hate you for ever and ever!'
'You already do,' Dick Brouder said cheerfully. 'Now, for your next scene, you're going to
apologize to Cecile Savoy.'
'I won't!' Twinkle was aghast. 'You can't make me!'
'I can and I will.'
'I'll tell my mother,' she threatened.
'You do that little thing,' Dick Brouder said grimly.
Frances suddenly wondered whether there had been more than one reason for Laurenda's absence today. By her 'illness' she had not only avoided the unpleasantness of an encounter with the outraged Cecile Savoy, she had also avoided the danger of a confrontation with the powers-that-be. Whatever the day might hold in store, Laurenda could not be blamed for any of it.
'I'll fix you!' Defeated, Twinkle fell back on the only one she could depend on - herself. 'I'll - '
'You'll get to your dressing-room and change.' Dick Brouder cut off her threats. 'And hurry up - you're delaying the shooting.'
'I don't care,' Twinkle muttered, but she began to move away.
'Get into your costume,' Dick Brouder ordered. 'And - he pressed his luck recklessly, 'drink your milk.
It's on the dressing-table waiting for you.'
Across the set, Frances saw Cecile Savoy start out of her own dressing-room, carrying a rather moth-eaten Fleur-de-lis. Curiously, Cecile Savoy hesitated in the doorway as she saw them, then turned and retreated into her dressing-room.
'Here we are - ' Frances swung open the door of Twinkle's dressing-room. The
glass of milk, as threatened, stood on the dressing-table facing them. Twinkle balked.
'In we go - ' One hand firmly between Twinkle's shoulder-blades, Frances propelled her forward and shut the door.
'I'm not going to drink that!' Twinkle was determined to take a stand on something.
'Very well.' Frances allowed her to win. 'No doubt Continuity will oblige again. It isn't all that important.'
'No, it isn't.' Twinkle seemed surprised at this endorsement of her own sentiments. She looked at Frances thoughtfully, as though about to say something else, but the moment passed and she turned away again.
'They're waiting on the set,' Frances reminded her when, after another long pause, Twinkle had made no move towards changing into her costume. 'Let me help you - '
'No!' Twinkle struck down the proffered hand and backed away. 'I can get dressed by myself. I'm not a little kid.'
'Of course you're not,' Frances agreed, remembering when Rosemary had gone through this stage. 'But everyone needs help with buttons and zippers sometimes, so - '
'No!' Twinkle backed farther away, clutching protectively at her neckline, but not before Frances had glimpsed a grubby shoulder-strap precariously secured by a safety-pin.
It seemed that Laurenda could not overcome her invalidism enough even to care for her child's clothing
-or to see that anyone else did. Once again, Frances was swept by a feeling of sympathy for the beleaguered Twinkle. How much else was lacking in her young life, despite her lucrative contracts and her name in lights ?
'You don't have to hang around,' Twinkle snapped. 'I can take care of everything by myself.'
'I'll wait outside.' Tactfully, Frances gave in. 'If you need any help, just call.'
'Yeah,' Twinkle said. 'You do that.' She walked to the door with Frances and shut it decisively. Frances heard the faint surreptitious turn of the key in the lock. Surely, that was a bit excessive ? She had no intention of trying to force her way in where she was not wanted. Of course, Twinkle had no way of knowing that. Perhaps privacy was a luxury she had always had to fight for. Laurenda seemed so unduly preoccupied with herself as to be unheeding of any niceities or courtesies due to others.
Murder, Murder, Little Star Page 6
