by ILIL ARBEL
“It is interesting that you should say so about films, Mrs. Lewis. Jake said the same thing about aeroplanes, and lifestyles, and other subjects. He predicts huge changes.”
“Yes, Mr. Goldwasser and I had often talked about the way things are going, Miss Tudor. He is sure about it, and his predictions often come true, I have noticed.”
“Well, I will go and tell Jake directly. No point in keeping him in suspense. Thank you, Mrs. Lewis, and now just stop worrying; I am back in the saddle.”
“It was my fault, Miss Tudor. If your plans are ruined, you can blame me.”
“Nonsense, my dear,” said Glamora. “Picking this girl was such a natural mistake. Anyone would have thought she was glamour itself with her incredible looks. Well, you need a brain as well if you wish to be a star, and she had none. Now don’t torment yourself, all will be well, I promise.” And she went back to the sitting room.
Mr. Goldwasser was not holding his head in his hands and sobbing. He was not pacing to and fro like a slightly demented devil. He was not even sighing to himself. He simply sat in an armchair, doing nothing at all. But one look at him and Glamora knew he was extremely unhappy.
“It’s okay, Jake,” she said in her straightforward fashion. “I will be staying for a while in the old roles.”
Mr. Goldwasser looked at her, amazed. “How did you know what I was thinking about?”
“Not very difficult,” said Glamora, sitting in the facing armchair. “Mrs. Lewis told me about Miss Moonshadow’s elopement with Julian Rivers. Normally, I would be concerned about her, since we know that in no time at all Julian will leave her, and she will have to head back in disgrace to Peoria. The mere idea that he would marry her is ludicrous. But right now, I am more concerned about you and so I don’t particularly care about the foolish girl who could not appreciate her own good luck. Look, Jake, it’s quite simple. I have decided to stay in my usual roles for a few more years. I still have my looks, you need me now more than ever, and I don’t mind doing so at all.”
“I’d say you’ve still got your looks, love. And you will have them for years to come… but are you telling me the truth? You really don’t mind?”
“Not a bit. After all, it’s not as if I am discarding my plan, I am just postponing it a little. Come to think of it, perhaps I am not even postponing it, exactly. If you approve, I suggest that we do the usual two films a year, but also add on a serious one every two years or so. In a few years, the demand for my kind of roles will vanish, according to both you and Mrs. Lewis, and then I can slide into more serious roles with ease and without any abrupt change.”
“There is something in that. I don’t have to tell you that my success was partially based on my ability to predict the way the world changes. I can tell you without the slightest hesitation that now, in the middle of the decade, things are still going as smoothly as ever. But in five or six years, with the strange new generation that is coming into its own, the changes will be extraordinary, and not only in films. On the good side, I suspect there will be more demand for serious films and great acting during the sixties than during this decade, for many reasons, some of them political and economic.”
“I don’t understand either economics or politics, Jake, but I’ll take your word for it; you are never wrong. So I am staying, and let’s think of the next film, which is to start shooting in three months in Glorious Technicolor. Here comes Miss Glamora Tudor with her new young man...”
“Funny that you should say that.”
“Why? I can’t go on doing films with Nes indefinitely. He can manage on his own now, he is a star already.”
“I was not thinking about Alcott. It is just that I was recently introduced to a young man, a newcomer at GMG, and I remember thinking rather wistfully that he would have been perfect for you, had you stayed in the business.”
Glamora laughed. “Well, I am staying in the business. What are you going to call this young man?”
“Turf,” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“Turf? As in grass and sod?
“Exactly. Turf is strong, masculine, reliable, the usual. He will be either Turf Johnson, or Turf Gregory.”
“Both names are good,” said Glamora. “What does he look like?”
“Dark blond, very tanned, deep brown eyes, sculptured features, and the usual amazing physique.”
“Charming,” said Glamora. “He sounds like the beach type, outdoor, surfing, and so on. The ladies will love him. It will be fun, Jake. Don’t worry about me. I am perfectly okay playing with Turf Johnson-Gregory. What the hell, I’ll even buy some new shoes with high heels, if you like.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Goldwasser softly. “Thank you so much, my dear. I don’t know what else to say.”
“Nothing,” said Glamora, very gently. “Don’t look dejected, Jake. We always have fun working together. We will continue to do so.”
“A lot more fun than I would have had with the homecoming queen from Peoria, that’s for sure,” said Mr. Goldwasser, shuddering. “Heavens, but that girl was stupid... the first mistake Mrs. Lewis had ever made, choosing her.”
“I’ll never understand how she managed to get in touch with Julian Rivers, though,” said Glamora. “Everyone was warned to never mention him. Do you think it just slipped out that he was at Mrs. Rivers’ home?”
“I have a general idea that it was not an accident,” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“You mean someone deliberately helped them meet? But why would anyone do so?”
“To help me,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “And if I am correct in my suspicion, it is not the first time he was helping me. I’ll tell you when I find out, Glam. I am not sure yet, I am just suspecting.”
Mr. Goldwasser went in search of Aubrey Clover, and eventually found him in the empty commissary, drinking coffee that an obliging worker made especially for him because he was ever so charming, my dear, and he was so polite to me when he said that he was just dying of fatigue and needed coffee so badly… and even though it stands to reason that he would be proud because he is such an important gentleman, he was just like one of us, and he said our work was so interesting, serving so many nice people, and he was joking that I should give him a job at the commissary…
“Okay, Mr. Clover, confess,” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“Confess? Confess what?” said Aubrey with such innocence that most people would have believed it instantly, but not Mr. Goldwasser, who knew better than to fall for Aubrey’s glamour.
“You had arranged for Estella Moonshadow to meet with Julian Rivers, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said Aubrey brazenly.
“You knew she would elope with him?”
“Yes,” said Aubrey.
“Did you also know that I told everyone not to tell her?”
“Yes.
“You didn’t care?”
“No.”
“You are speaking in monosyllables,” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“Because I am a little afraid of you, Mr. Goldwasser,” said Aubrey. “For all I know, it might have been a mistake on my part. But I thought she was most unsuitable for the role you devised for her. She was no star, and she would have ruined every film you would have made with her. This girl was no Estella Moonshadow, Mr. Goldwasser, and never would have become one. She was Madge Sorensen, and she would have remained Madge Sorensen, world without end, Amen.”
Mr. Goldwasser burst out laughing. “The best work you ever did, Mr. Clover. Even better than introducing Mr. Alcott to alcoholic drinks.”
Aubrey sighed with relief. He raised his cup and said, “Here’s to O. Henry and Peoria,” and sipped it gratefully.
“But what did you do, exactly?” asked Mr. Goldwasser.
“After talking to Mrs. Lewis about Miss Moonshadow, I went to the butler and requested Mrs. River’s telephone number. Then I went to find Miss Moonshadow, and simply told her that I heard she knew Julian Rivers, a dear friend of mine. She was thrilled, and asked me immediately if I knew where
he was. She said she wanted to get in touch with him, but no one could tell her where he was, they did not know. Of course, I said, he and I always keep in touch, and he was making a surprise visit to his mother. I also gave her the number. The rest she did by herself, but I imagine the scenario was simple. She probably went to the library and telephoned Julian.”
“But why would Rivers be interested in her?” asked Mr. Goldwasser. “Yes, she is pretty, but she does not have the slightest knowledge of art, which is something he really cares about, she is extremely stupid, and they would have absolutely nothing in common. Don’t tell me he cares for her. Why would he bother?”
“That is just the way he is,” said Aubrey. “A troublemaker and a fool. Once he remembered who she was, I imagine he was flattered by the attention, and also was surely quite bored with his stay at his parents’ house. So he probably told her to get ready, and came to get her in the middle of the night. Such a boring scenario… something you and I would never use. One cliché after another.”
“You are a genius,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “I wasted too much time and money on this useless creature.”
“But let’s keep it a secret,” said Aubrey. “Not even Jessica is going to like such behavior, since it would be so obvious that I have led the young woman to a fate worse than death. Rivers will never marry her, Mr. Goldwasser, and she is doomed to be the Fallen Woman… I wonder how they treat fallen women in Peoria? I admit, The Scarlet Letter does not follow O. Henry too well, but I had no time to concoct a better script. Anyway, what is your plan for a new star?”
“Glam is staying with the business, Mr. Clover. She decided to postpone her career change. I don’t need a new star, Praise the Lord and Hallelujah.”
“So I did the right thing,” said Aubrey. “Is she unhappy about it?”
“She did not seem to be unhappy. Of course, she may be lying to me. She can do that, she really is a great actress… but I will do everything to further her interests as we go along.”
“Don’t tell her about me, just in case, though,” said Aubrey. “I love Miss Tudor, but I suspect that if she is angry, she can be dangerous.”
“She can,” said Mr. Goldwasser proudly.
“So we will keep this little scenario between us,” said Aubrey.
“Naturally,” said Mr. Goldwasser and poured two very special drinks out of his trusty silver flask. Yes, it was early in the day, but this was surely an occasion for a celebration.
Chapter Fourteen
The next day, after lunch, Mr. Goldwasser, Aubrey Clover, and Mr. Alcott were sitting in the dining room.
“Well, Jessica and I will be leaving soon,” said Aubrey. “I wish we could see the filming of the tango, when you get to London, but even though Jessica feels that she is the habitué and muse of the Wigwam nightclub, I am afraid we would be at the theatre...”
“Too bad,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “But I do understand. You will see the final product, of course. I do hope it will be as good as the original, spontaneous dance Glam and Alcott performed when we spiked his orange juice.”
“What music are Miss Tudor and I going to use for the tango, Mr. Goldwasser?” asked Mr. Alcott. “I don’t even remember what we danced then, I was so drunk, but I do remember enjoying myself tremendously.”
“The choreographer and I decided on ‘La Cumparsita,’ and he is working on it,” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“What an achievement it was that your original dance was the factor that convinced Mrs. Rivers to overcome her obsession with respectable and moral endings, and to write a romantic end for her new script,” said Aubrey. “I take some credit for it since I was instrumental in getting you drunk, Alcott.”
“But don’t forget, Mr. Clover, that Mrs. Rivers decently killed the husband first. She does not stand for divorce,” said Mr. Goldwasser. Aubrey laughed.
“Her priorities are interesting,” he said. “Until Death Do Us Part, I suppose, is sacred to her. Personally, I would prefer to live if Jessica decided to run away with a young lover... though it would be difficult to find another actress as good as Jessica. Maybe I could have persuaded the young lover to join us in plays for three; a sort of ménage à trois.” Mr. Alcott was slightly scandalized at the remark but said nothing, and Mr. Goldwasser laughed. At this minute, Shymmering wafted gently into the room.
“Hello, Shymmering,” said Mr. Alcott. “What is it?”
“First of all, sir, I would like to congratulate you on your engagement,” said Shymmering.
“How do you know about it?” asked Mr. Alcott, surprised.
“Such knowledge usually spreads quickly among the servants,” said Shymmering. “I imagine one of them was at the keyhole. Someone usually is, sir.”
“Ah, well,” said Mr. Alcott. “It only has to be a secret in Hollywood, not here. Maisie told me to be quiet about it because the ladies prefer it if the stars are single.”
“Indeed sir. And I am particularly happy about the engagement because it lessens some of the burden regarding the subject I have to bring up.”
“What is it?” asked Mr. Alcott, intrigued.
Shymmering cleared his throat in a significant manner. “Well, sir, I am afraid I must hand in my resignation.”
“Why?” asked Mr. Alcott. “You can work for a married man, can’t you? Or is it against the rules for gentlemen’s gentlemen to do so?”
“No sir, it is not against the rules. I would have been happy to stay in your employment after your marriage. However, my previous employer sent me a telegram, pleading with me to come to his aid, and I feel duty points me in that direction.”
“But you hated, him, Shymmering,” said Mr. Alcott, surprised. “He said you shimmer, remember? And he made fun of your name.”
“No sir,” said Shymmering. “The individual that made fun of my name was my temporary American employer. I worked for him for a short time after I left my English employer, for whom I had previously worked for many years. He never had any reason to use the name Shymmering, which I had adopted only after I had left him, to hide my true identity, an unfortunate necessity.”
“I see,” said Mr. Alcott, slightly confused by the information. “Why did you leave him, then, if I may ask?”
“We had a strong disagreement over the attire he planned to don at a formal event, sir, just as we came to America. My English employer was offered a diplomatic position in America, and I went there with him. You see, sir, a certain individual from the government wanted to employ me in a delicate situation. My services were required, but of course I don’t have the social background, so I can only work behind the scene. My employer is not very intelligent, if I may be so bold as to as say so, but he is good-natured and comes from a very suitable background, so he could always function as a so-called ‘front’ while I did the actual diplomatic work.”
“How did the individual in the government know you and your employer?” asked Aubrey.
“He was a school friend of my employer, sir, and I had assisted him often in both his private and public affairs. I had done much work on these lines for many years. That gentleman is not very intelligent either, I must confess. My employer and he remained friends when they left school, and shared a club in London as well, where many gentlemen of their kind find pleasant relaxation in playing billiards and darts, and also by throwing bread at each other during meals; apparently the gentlemen at the club seem to find the bread-throwing activity highly diverting.”
“Are there many similar people in your government, Shymmering?” asked Mr. Goldwasser. “I mean, people who enjoy throwing bread around as a diversion?”
“Yes, indeed, sir. The present government is comprised of people of this nature, and once elected, they prefer to hire each other for various tasks since it gives them a level of comfort they could not achieve with more intelligent people. But they do need some well-informed helpers with higher mental capacity, and they are aware of that necessity. The general idea was to send my employer to America, and groom him
into shape, as they said, during a minor diplomatic position. After that, they planned to send him as an ambassador to a small African nation.”
“Not Borioboola-Gha, I hope?” said Aubrey, laughing.
“Yes and no sir,” said Shymmering. “You are correct as to the location, though I can’t imagine how you knew, but the name of that country had been changed since Mr. Charles Dickens had given it fame. The new name is Mngangaland. They had changed the name because after Borioboola-Gha acquired its independence, it wished to discard the name that reminded the citizens of the shackles of Colonialism, and express their newfound freedom. Many small new nations had done so since the war, sir, which is highly confusing to cartographers, I would imagine.”
“So why did you leave your English employer, exactly? What was the piece of clothing you so much objected to?” asked Mr. Goldwasser.
“My employer insisted on wearing a purple cummerbund to a state event,” said Shymmering, shuddering slightly at the thought. “I had my disagreements with him before, mostly about wearing certain articles of clothing, and usually I had prevailed. But at that time he was so obstinate, I could not persuade him to change his mind. He insisted that the objectionable item was the latest fashion, and that wearing it gave him confidence. Naturally, my reputation demanded that I leave. I could not let people in high positions think that I had allowed my employer to wear a purple cummerbund.”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Alcott, who was not sure what a cummerbund was.
“I see,” said Aubrey quietly, musing.
“But this morning, sir, my employer sent me a long, apologetic telegram. He begs me to rejoin him in Mngangaland, since the protocol and culture simply defeat him. To begin with, he has to arrange the ceremony for harvesting the staple food of Mngangaland, which is called Mnganga-Hopo, a type of root vegetable. It is not an easy task.”
