Their Exits and their Entrances: The New Chronicles of Barset: Book Two

by ILIL ARBEL

  “How magnificent you look, Miss Tudor,” Emma said. “Pure Paris…”

  “Well, for a short while I still have to shine,” said Glamora, laughing. “Soon, I will become as dowdy as you wish. I shall wear shabby tweeds and soft cardigans.” Seeing Emma’s horrified face she smiled and told her she was just joking. Of course, she added, just because she was moving into serious acting did not mean she would lose her sense of style. Emma sighed with relief.

  Soon the rest of the guests arrived, consisting of Maisie, Denis Stonor, Mrs. Rivers, and Mrs. Lewis, and after a short while everyone sat down to dinner. Maisie found herself sitting next to Denis Stonor. “So in a couple of weeks, you are all gone,” said Denis. “I enjoyed working on Dance We Shall. I am a bit sorry to see it end.”

  “I am rather happy to go to England, though,” said Maisie. “It will be nice to feel the peace and quiet of Barsetshire.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Denis. “But I’ll miss the lot of you.”

  “You mean you will miss somebody in particular, Mr. Stonor,” said Maisie, bluntly but very kindly.

  “So you realized it,” said Denis. “Do you think I am strange?”

  “No,” said Maisie. “I think you are wonderful to be able to see beyond convention, beyond the hackneyed views of everyone, and follow your heart.”

  “It is not easy,” said Denis.

  “When is it ever easy? Do you think life has been particularly kind to me on these lines?” said Maisie.

  “I don’t really know,” said Denis. “You are a very attractive, charming, intelligent woman. I would imagine you have many admirers.”

  “Not really, Mr. Stonor. Perhaps if I lived in a normal place… but in Hollywood, men are blinded by so much sheer beauty, and a woman like myself, who is not a beauty nor has anything flamboyant about her, is not likely to attract attention. Girls like Miss Moonshadow attract men, but even for them, marriages break and so do hearts. Hollywood is not conducive to longevity in love, and Miss Moonshadow will have her own troubles, I am afraid.”

  “That poor girl is an idiot,” said Denis without a trace of chivalry.

  “Yes, she is,” said Maisie. “But did you observe the impression she made? Almost every man who meets her falls at her feet.” Her eyes wandered to Mr. Alcott, who sat almost across them, and Mr. Stonor noticed.

  “I see,” he said. “So Mr. Alcott is smitten?”

  “Yes,” said Maisie. “He seems to be.”

  “Too bad,” said Denis, “but I imagine he will get over it soon and realize that she is not good enough for an intelligent man like him.”

  “I am beginning to wonder how intelligent he really is,” said Maisie, and they both laughed.

  “I will make a prediction, Miss Robinson,” said Denis. “By the time you come back to America, after the filming of the sequel, Mr. Alcott will be a changed man. He will know where he belongs, and he will forget poor little Miss Moonshadow. After that, I don’t know.”

  “I hope you are right,” said Maisie, somewhat sadly. “Nes may be silly and easily swayed, but he deserves better than a silly homecoming queen from Peoria. And now I will also make a prediction. Mrs. Rivers will decide to come back to America, at least for a while, perhaps for one more film. After that, I don’t know.”

  Denis nodded thoughtfully. “Well, we shall see if either of us was right, soon enough,” he said.

  Mr. Goldwasser was pleased to find himself sitting near Mrs. Lewis.

  “Well,” he said. “I did not see you for a couple of days. Where is the General?”

  “Had a reunion with some war friends,” said Mrs. Lewis. “He won’t miss that for the world.”

  “Of course not,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “And how is Miss Moonshadow doing?”

  ` “Thank goodness, at least she is obedient,” said Mrs. Lewis. “I was afraid she would rebel and go to Mr. Rivers’ hotel to be painted, but she is really afraid to take a step on her own, and of course, everyone had their orders not to take her there. So she did not go, though I think she really wanted to. She seems to like Julian, for some reason.”

  “Julian Rivers is a nuisance,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “From what I hear, he has always been one, and unfortunately, he managed to make the British government think he is a genius. It wouldn’t have worked here, I should think. Anyway, the important issue here is clear. Does Miss Moonshadow understand what she has to do during the next three months, while I am in England?”

  “I think she does,” said Mrs. Lewis. “She is very happy about the part of the seductress in Mr. Yukon’s film. I tried a couple of Oriental outfits on her, and she looked very well in them, very appropriate for the part. And I introduced her to an acting teacher, and also to Helga, who is supposed to teach her to sing. Helga did so well with Mr. Alcott, she has a genius for teaching, and Mr. Alcott developed a rather good voice and style with her. She promised me that Miss Moonshadow will sing like a bird.”

  “She said the same about Alcott and indeed she came through perfectly. Look at how he danced and sang in Dance We Shall, not a flaw, really.”

  “He is good, Mr. Goldwasser. Very good. He acts, he sings, he dances. He is a wonderful asset for GMG. But tell me, do you think his heart is really in it?”

  “I can’t be sure,” said Mr. Goldwasser, considering. “He likes the fame and fortune aspect. He enjoys being admired. But does he love the work? I don’t know. Well, if he does not, neither does Rush Yukon, who cordially despises everything about Hollywood except the money he is making, and still, he is as conscientious and hard-working as can be. Hopefully, Mr. Alcott will also be reliable.”

  “I have no doubt of it,” said Mrs. Lewis. “But it won’t make for longevity. Mr. Yukon has no delusions about longevity, he knows he will last only as long as his good looks do, and he works fast and furiously to make as much money as possible during the years of success. He is even willing to go through with this marriage…. But I had hopes of seeing Mr. Alcott become a permanent feature in Hollywood.”

  “Only time will tell,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “He works hard. Look how fast he learned how to sing. He put hours into studying, practicing, reading sheet music, everything Helga told him to do. I can only hope Miss Moonshadow will be as reliable as Alcott. At least, I noticed that she has a lovely speaking voice. I have a feeling she can learn to sing very well.”

  “That will be an asset,” said Mrs. Lewis. “As we are going into so many musicals, her singing will come in handy. There is something I wanted to discuss with you, though, Mr. Goldwasser, regarding Mr. Alcott. I think he is falling for Miss Moonshadow. I am afraid he has a strong habit of falling in love with the wrong women.”

  “You can’t blame him for having fallen in love with Glam, who was his original flame,” said Mr. Goldwasser, smiling at the memory of the love-sick Mr. Alcott. “Most of the boys who acted with her did.”

  “Not the way he did. He made a real nuisance of himself to Miss Tudor. And now, Miss Moonshadow… I am not in favour of such relationships. They interfere with business.”

  “Well, he is going to be away for three months. Let’s hope for the best,” said Mr. Goldwasser, and his eyes wandered to Maisie. Why couldn’t the boy see that Maisie was the woman for him, something that everybody else saw so clearly, Mr. Goldwasser could not understand. He had a feeling that something drastic had to be done to bring Mr. Alcott to his senses. Suddenly he smiled, remembering how Aubrey Clover helped him make Mr. Alcott dance by spiking his orange juice with alcohol. Perhaps Mr. Clover would have an idea of how to make Mr. Alcott realize who was (or should be) his true love.

  After returning home, Mr. Goldwasser and Glamora sat in their living room, relaxing in their own ways. Mr. Goldwasser was reading a particularly silly script, shaking his head over the idea of turning Kafka’s Metamorphosis into a musical. How could a large bug sing and dance? And would any glamorous young heiress from Boston really kiss the giant bug, with whom she somehow fell in love, and turn him back into a human? No
, not even Glorious Technicolor could fix that… besides, it was so much like Beauty and the Beast…

  Glamora was writing something. “There!” she said triumphantly, and slammed her pen on the table.

  “There what?” asked Mr. Goldwasser, looking at her over his spectacles.

  “I finished my homework. I have written an essay on Macbeth, and tomorrow I will have it mailed to Mrs. Dale in Barchester. She will then read it before I get back to Barchester, and once I am there, we can talk about it in person. She told me that when I am done, she will start me on reading history books, about the periods that are connected to the play. First, she wants me to understand Shakespeare’s England, the way it was during his lifetime. Second, she wants me to understand the period Macbeth is taking place in, more or less.”

  “This would be your first history lesson, right? Up to this point, your studies were strictly literature, am I correct?”

  “Yes, that is true, though I did try a history book on my own. I find it difficult, much more difficult than literature. But I will go through with that, Jake. I am determined to.”

  “You will, Glam. I know that. Nothing can stop you when you make up your mind. But may I make a suggestion? Why not start with something lighter, instead of the usual dry history books?”

  “Like historical novels? I already did that, I read lots of them. They are very easy, but they are not what Mrs. Dale has in mind. A lot of them are very inaccurate, she tells me.”

  “No, not historical novels. There is a writer, his name is Hendrik Willem Van Loon. He is Dutch, but he lives in America. He writes pure history. However, he is a great innovator, and he writes it journalistically, making it easy and fun. Why not start with him? I have a few in the library, and I suggest starting with one of his best, Van Loon’s Lives.”

  “What a great idea, Jake. Do you like his work?”

  “I love it. I even get ideas for historical films from it. If anyone can get you interested in history, it is him.”

  “Then let me take a look. I should take the book with me to Barchester. It will make good reading material for the aeroplane.”

  Mr. Goldwasser went to the library, and when he handed the thick volume to Glamora she practically pounced on it, she was so full of interest. He looked at her affectionately as she immediately started reading, smiling over the clever introduction, telling of Mr. Van Loon and a good friend entertaining historical figures, long dead, for sumptuous dinners. “Look, Jake, he mentions Shakespeare!” she said enthusiastically, as she browsed through the book. Mr. Goldwasser smiled. Ever since the study plan was devised with Miss Merriman, Glam was reading like a regular bookworm. What a woman, he thought. Never a dull moment with her, she was forever changing, growing, evolving. She always says to me, he went on musing, “What would my life be without you, Jake?” I wonder if she realizes how often I think, “What would my life be without you, Glam?”

  ***

  One day before the journey home, Mrs. Rivers looked out of the window; she disliked the heat, so late in the year, and the sultry atmosphere that was surely going to end in a storm. She decided to go and read peacefully in the library until dinner, but to her annoyance, she realized that she had left her spectacles in the drawing room. Entering it, she saw, to her surprise, that Denis was sitting in one of the chairs. He rose and came toward her.

  “Well, Hermione, you will be leaving tomorrow,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Rivers, “I am all packed.”

  “Have you given some thought to our conversation?”

  “I have been thinking of little else, Denis.”

  “And to what conclusion did you arrive?”

  “I have arrived at total confusion,” said Mrs. Rivers. “I do not know what to say to you.”

  “So don’t try to make any decisions just yet,” said Denis. “Just tell me that to some small extent, you care about me.”

  “I care about you to a great extent,” said Mrs. Rivers. “Had I been twenty years younger… but we won’t go into the age issue again. I will admit to you that what you said brought me a strange sensation of happiness. I don’t know exactly how to account for it and I must think about it. I must sort it out, quietly, alone, in Barsetshire.”

  “Will you write to me?”

  “I will. And look forward to your letters, Denis. Look, the rain is coming down so heavily, at last. It’s storming.”

  “It will clear the air for your journey.”

  “I wish it would clear my head, Denis. This is so inexplicable, so strange.”

  “There is nothing strange about my loving you, Hermione. It was inevitable. Well, I will go. I will start writing to you tonight, I suspect….” He touched her hand lightly, turned and left. The room was suddenly very empty and lonely, and Mrs. Rivers, after a few moments of listening to the torrents of water lashing against the window panes, left the room. She could not bear to be alone a moment longer.

  She went to the library, and found Glamora sitting there, reading a book. When she saw Mrs. Rivers, she smiled and put the book down. “You look tired, Mrs. Rivers. You must rest before we go on our trip…”

  “I am not really tired, Miss Tudor,” said Mrs. Rivers. “Maybe a little under that weather.”

  “And what weather it is,” said Glamora. “How the wind is gusting.”

  “Yes. I hate it when the wind is warm and the storm is tropical,” said Mrs. Rivers. “Even the cold drizzle of England is better. But yes, I am a little off-colour, I suppose. So much is happening….” she desperately wanted to tell Glamora about Denis’ offer, but did not dare.

  “There is something on your mind, Mrs. Rivers,” said Glamora, very kindly. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “Well, yes, I do want to talk about it,” said Mrs. Rivers. “I just don’t know how to begin… I am afraid you would disapprove… perhaps judge me.”

  Glamora sighed. “Mrs. Rivers, we have gone through so much together. We started out fearing and mistrusting each other, but we worked through it and now we are friends. I will not judge you. On the contrary, I am going to assume the privilege of a friend and tell you quite bluntly and honestly – you don’t want Denis Stonor.”

  “So you know about it? Does everyone know?” asked Mrs. Rivers miserably.

  “I doubt anyone else knows. No one said anything, I assure you. But I have noticed, and I am here to remind you that this is not real. Mr. Stonor is very attractive and charming, but your heart is with your husband and with your normal life.”

  “How can you know for sure, Miss Tudor? Please explain to me,” said Mrs. Rivers. “I am so confused…”

  “I want you to think about your own novels, Mrs. Rivers. What happens to all your heroines, even when they are sorely tempted by a handsome admirer? They search their hearts, then go back to their husbands, whom they never stopped loving. You know the human heart better than anyone, Mrs. Rivers.”

  “But George and I are so totally apart,” said Mrs. Rivers. “And this is so, well, so flattering! I am so much older than Denis… and then, when he stood up for me and told Julian how to behave, I felt he was like a knight in shining armour, and ever since then Julian is behaving. George never did that for me.”

  “Think, Mrs. Rivers. What is marriage, really? An adventure? An escapade? No indeed. It is a form of deep friendship and esteem. Look at Jake and me.”

  “But of course someone of your beauty and fame never had to deal with such a situation, you are above such things,” said Mrs. Rivers. “Your life is so complete!”

  “Oh yes, of course I had to deal with such situations. In each film, I am joined by a new Adonis, who almost always falls in love with me. A few times, I was swept off my feel, emotionally, just a little, but then I would look at Jake… sure, Jake is no Adonis, far from it, but I will love him till the day I die, and I will never allow anyone to endanger our marriage. And yes, to answer your unasked question which nevertheless I can sense, I think there were a couple of times
where Jake did look at another woman. For example, I really thought he lost his head a little over Miss Merriman, and could you blame him? She is a treasure. But he never strayed. We are the best of friends… and so are you and Mr. Rivers, despite all the misunderstandings.”

  “You are right,” said Mrs. Rivers and wiped a tear. “You are so right, but it’s not easy.”

  “No, it’s not easy. But you are a strong woman, Mrs. Rivers. Strong and intelligent and creative. Your books bring joy and a new interest in life to so many women, with the love stories, the deep understanding, the travel all over these interesting places; you take them out of themselves.”

  “Do you know what my publisher calls me?” asked Mrs. Rivers with a little laugh. “He calls me the Baedeker Bitch and he thinks I don’t know – but I do – and I am rather proud of it. It’s because of all these trips my heroines take, and what he considers my grasping and greedy behaviour, which he thinks is unseemly for a woman.”

  Glamora burst out laughing. “In the end, isn’t it the most important thing we do? Bring happiness to our audience? It doesn’t matter if we are men or women as long as we do our work right. For my fans, no matter what I will do or where I will go, married or single, I am forever Miss Tudor, known in Hollywood as ‘the woman who could not love,’ as you know… and inside, I never loved anyone but Jake.”

  “Thank you, Miss Tudor,” said Mrs. Rivers. “I know you have tried to put my work, my life, and my marriage in perspective. I will remember your help for the rest of my life, since you came to my aid while I was at a crossroads. Thank you.”