Fear In The Sunlight Part 8

'What?'

He looked at her, astonished, and Branwen basked in the safe attention of someone else's scandal. 'They say she thought she couldn't have kids, then some b.a.s.t.a.r.d takes the one she does have. Where's the justice in that? And they never did find the poor little sod. Vicious lot they were, those gippos. They'd have anything if you took your eye off it long enough.' Listening to herself, it was like having her dad in the car with them, speaking over her shoulder; she hadn't realised until now how deeply his prejudices had been absorbed into her own soul, and it shocked her. 'I wouldn't be surprised if they'd buried the kid up there with the dogs in that cemetery. Here a watch it!' Turnbull had taken his eyes off the roada and she reached over to grab the steering wheel and pull them back on course. 'You'll get us both killed if you're not careful.'

'When did all this happen?'

Branwen looked at him, surprised by the intensity of his interest and worried that she had already said too much. Her grandmother had always forbidden her to talk about the incident because of the part her dad had played in the Gypsy's death. 'Twenty years ago, near as d.a.m.n it a towards the end of the war,' she said cautiously. Her dad was dead and gone nowa and she didn't see what harm it could do, but her gran still frightened the living daylights out of her. She tried to think of something to change the subject, but Turnbull wouldn't let it go.

'Was the child a boy or a girl?' Branwen shrugged, deciding that ignorance was the safest tack. 'Come on a you must know.'

'Look, I was only a kid myself. What's it to you anyway?'

'Nothing. Nothing at all. I was just shocked by what you said.' He backed off after that, and Branwen was relieved when they arrived at the entrance to the village. The man on the gate let them througha and the expression on his face when he recognised her was priceless. She smiled brazenly at him. 'Shall I drop you at the hotel?' Turnbull asked, his composure apparently restored.

'That'd be perfect.' Branwen was determined to make the most of her entrance; staff were not allowed to fraternise with the guests, but there wasn't a thing anyone could do about it while she wasn't on duty. She took her lipstick out of her bag and refreshed her make-up, then straightened her stockings as best she could.

Turnbull obliged her by pulling up right outside reception. He hopped out to open the door for her and smiled apologetically as she got out. 'I'm sorry, Branwen. I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. It must be the heat. Please forgive me.'

'Nothing to forgive. It's like water off a duck's back round here, and if it's not the guests, it's the boss.' Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the restaurant manager watching her from the terrace and kissed Leyton Turnbull provocatively on the cheek. His aftershave was musky and expensive, she noticed, and she was surprised to see him blush. 'See you later, I hope.'

'Of course. And I look forward to hearing you sing.'

Branwen slipped quickly through reception and headed for the staff quarters. Glancing back over her shoulder, she noticed that Leyton Turnbull was still watching her. The expression on his face was impossible to read.

4.

'Same again?' Astrid Lake noddeda and Danny walked back across the lawn to the hotel.

Lydia watched him go, trying not to be too cynical about his obvious affection for the young actress. The sliver of envy that reared its ugly head whenever she met someone with her whole career ahead of her had not prevented her from liking Astrid as soon as they were introduced, but she was less sure about Danny's ability to compete a romantically or professionally a in the future that lay ahead of the girl. From what Lydia had seen on screen, Astrid had the sort of radiance that characterised the young female stars of the silent generation but none of the old-fashioned, rosy-cheeked romanticism; hers was a more sophisticated s.e.xuality, appropriate to a different decade and all the more compelling because it seemed so unselfconscious. Lydia could just about remember what that sort of innocence was like. It made you brave, simply because you were too naive to realise there was anything to be frightened of, and that was a very desirable commodity. 'Have you known Danny long?' she asked.

'Not really. Our paths crossed on a couple of jobs, but I didn't get to know him properly until a few months ago. We were working together on Looking for Trouble when he got the news about his father, and he needed someone to talk to.'

Marta waved a wasp away from her drink. 'What happened to his father?'

'He committed suicide, and Danny blamed himself for the fact that they were estranged at the time.' She must have noticed the question in their eyes, because she addeda 'I don't know what they fell out over a he won't say a but it must have been serious because they hadn't spoken for years.'

'Miss Lake? Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say h.e.l.lo and make sure you have everything you need?' The man at Astrid's side was tall and broad-shouldered, but it was his smile that was most noticeable. Lydia guessed that he was around thirty, but he had a combination of earnestness and boyish charm which could have placed him five years either side. 'I'm David Franks,' he said. 'I work with Mr Hitchc.o.c.k.' Had Hitchc.o.c.k himself been present, 'with' would almost certainly have been changed to 'for', Lydia thought to herself, but she admired Franks's confidence. 'Are you the Marta Fox who's been working with Miss Reville?' he asked, when Astrid introduced them. Marta nodded. 'It's lovely to meet you. She's mentioned you often, but I didn't know you were going to be here.'

He looked Marta approvingly up and down as they shook hands, and Lydia mentally revised her use of the word 'boyish'. G.o.d help Danny if Astrid was Franks's type. Marta, on the other hand, was more resistant to charm than anyone else she knew. 'It's a coincidence,' she said. 'We're here for a friend's birthday party.'

Lydia looked at her with a mixture of pride and irritation. She knew that Marta was being modest about the impression she had made with her first attempt at screenwriting, but why did she have to be so casual about everything? If she could only bring herself to be a little more ambitious, life might be easier for them both. Fortunately, Franks didn't seem to have noticed any coolness. 'With a boss like mine, it's always best to double-check the arrangements,' he said. 'He has a talent for surprises.'

'What is it you do for Mr Hitchc.o.c.k?' Astrid asked.

'Depends what the film is a all-purpose dogsbody, special effects, production design, even a bit of direction. I've had more t.i.tles than I can remember, but I suppose the word "a.s.sistant" is the common theme.' He grinned, and accepted the invitation to sit down. 'At the moment, I'm just trying to make sure his weekend runs smoothly.'

'You must have your work cut out.'

'Oh?' He feigned an expression of anxiety. 'Don't tell me there's trouble already. I hoped we might at least get as far as dinner.'

Astrid laughed. 'I only meant that it's a lot to organise. Althougha now you mention it, Leyton Turnbull and Bella Hutton obviously aren't the best of friends.'

'Those two go back a long way. It's a love-hate relationship.'

'I didn't see much of the love.' She opened her mouth to add something but seemed to think better of it.

'Believe me, the time to worry is when they're not squabbling. I know Bella very well. I have her to thank for just about every stroke of luck I've ever had.'

'One Dry Martini.' Danny set the drink down and nodded to Franks.

'Have you two met?' Astrid asked.

'Yes, at the top of the Bell Tower.' He grinned. 'I was having a look round and I didn't realise that David was already up there. He made me jump out of my skin.'

'I think we're quits,' Franks said. 'It's not the most comfortable feeling to be at the top with nowhere to go and suddenly hear footsteps you're not expecting.'

'You were just telling us how you know Bella Hutton,' Lydia reminded him. It wasn't strictly true, but she was intrigued by the relationship between the film star and Hitchc.o.c.k's protege, and Franks didn't seem to mind being nudged into an explanation.

'My parents died when I was young and I got into some trouble. Bella hauled me off to Hollywood with her, out of harm's way, and showed me there was more to life than being a difficult teenager.' Lydia suspected she was not the only one who was dying to ask what sort of trouble, but n.o.body said anything. 'The film set was a safe place to be dangerous, I suppose a a fantasy world with no risks. Bella knew I loved it, so, when she came back here to work, she pulled more strings and got me a job on The Lodger. That's when I met the Hitchc.o.c.ks.'

'What's he like to work with?' Lydia asked.

'Brilliant. I worked on a few films for the studios, his and other people's, mostly on models and miniatures and the kind of stuff I'd learnt in the States. I didn't even know that Hitchc.o.c.k had noticed me until he invited me down to his cottage for the weekend. They were so kind to me, both he and Alma. In hindsight, it was the most subtle job interview I've ever had. Before we went back to London, he handed me the script of a play and asked me what I thought of it as a movie idea. They must have liked what I said, because the next thing I knew I was working on Blackmail.'

'So what's the most important thing you've learnt from him?' Astrid made her question sound like a challengea but Lydia suspected that she was wisely doing her own research, gleaning all she could from an insider in the Hitchc.o.c.k camp.

'That you have to be able to do everything if you want to direct a camera, lighting, design, script, even promotion,' Franks said without hesitation. 'And to be brave. I see in Hitchc.o.c.k what I love about America and admire in the German directors a that sense of freedom and imagination, the courage to try things out.'

'I suppose you'll go with him if he moves to America?' Danny asked. 'It'll be easier for you, as you know the place already. Less of an upheaval.'

'Oh, I'm used to upheaval. My family travelled around a lot when I was a kid.'

'So did mine. That's why I hate upheaval.'

Franks laughed. 'I can understand that, but opportunities like moving to Hollywood with Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k don't come along very often.'

'Well, when you put it like that . . .' Danny smiled and finished his drink. 'In the unlikely event that it's a decision I'd have to make, it would probably take all of ten seconds.'

'From what you say, it'll be a shame for the Brits if we lose him,' Lydia said.

'Yes, but it's going to happen sooner or later. The most exciting opportunities are in America at the moment.' He looked at Marta. 'And not just for directors. Lots of the best British screenwriters are thinking about moving or have already gone.'

Lydia didn't trust Marta not to break her silence by making it clear how she felt about receiving career advice from a stranger, so she said quicklya 'It's better now, surely? I remember a time when we only made the terrible second features that you had to sit through to get to the Hollywood film, but it's not like that any more.'

'No, it's not.' He smiled. 'Not all the time, anyway. Have you ever been interested in films, or are you happy with the stage?'

Feeling faintly patronised, like someone who misguidedly prefers cheap wine to champagne, Lydia saida 'I've considered it, but I'm not sure it's an easy transition to make.' She was going to say 'at my age', but thought better of it. 'A friend of mine was in Secret Agent. I suppose everybody's experience of working with Hitchc.o.c.k is different, but it wasn't the happiest job he's ever had.'

'You mean John Terry?' Lydia nodded. 'He made it too obvious that he thought film was beneath his dignity as a stage legend,' Franks explaineda 'and that's never the way to go with Hitch. He cares deeply about what he does, and a film director doesn't want to feel like a poor relation any more than a stage actress does.' She was treated to the smile again, irresistible because it came from his eyes. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It was a clumsy way to ask the question.'

'I read an interview in Film Weekly where Hitchc.o.c.k said that women didn't act as well as men,' Astrid said. 'Was that exploiting publicity or does he actually mean it?'

Franks laughed. 'A bit of both, probably. Some people have a hard time with him, some adore him, but there are men and women in both camps.'

'So he doesn't exploit women? I was talking to Bella Hutton earlier. She didn't mention Hitchc.o.c.k a she obviously likes him a but she seemed to think that film in general favoured men and allowed them to get away with too much.'

'How does that make film different to most other professions?' Franks asked, turning to Lydia. 'Is the stage any better, Miss Beaumont? Have you never had to play up to a male producer to get a part you want?' Lydia felt Marta's eyes on her and gave what she hoped was a non-committal smile. 'It depends what you mean by exploitation. All film is voyeuristic to some extent. It's an excuse for people to sit in the dark and live out their dreams a privately, with the person on the screen. And that's not a male prerogative. The women in the audience are just as possessive over their matinee idols.'

'I don't think that's quite what Miss Hutton meant,' Astrid said, a little impatiently. 'She was talking about what happens when the lines between reality and fantasy get blurred.'

'What do you mean?'

She hesitated when faced with a direct question, and Lydia wondered what Bella Hutton had said to her that she was reluctant to repeat. 'That some people are powerful enough to get away with anything, no matter who gets hurt.'

Franks nodded thoughtfully. 'That's probably true. But in the States, one of the most powerful people in film is a woman who runs a mobile unit for dirty films in Chicago a all completely illegal, of course, but she's worth a fortune. And she asks things of her female stars that Hitch would never dare mention, even if he wanted to.' He smiled and continued more diplomatically. 'Bella's quite influential herself. I doubt she's ever been exploited in her life a it would be a stupid man who tried it. But don't listen to gossip where Hitch is concerned. Keep an open mind and decide for yourself.' He looked at his watch. 'If you'll excuse me, I've got to check that everything's in place for dinner.'

Lydia watched as he walked away. 'Why does good advice always sound so d.a.m.ned condescending?' she asked with a wink at Astrid. 'He meant well, I suppose.'

'There's Josephine,' Marta said, looking over to the hotel entrance. 'She's with Alma a I wonder how she got on?'

'Which one's Mrs. .h.i.tchc.o.c.k?' Danny asked, and Marta pointed her out. Against her better judgement, Lydia glanced at Marta's face as she watched Josephine, and wondered how little of her heart she would be willing to settle for.

5.

Josephine was hesitating over whether to join Marta and Lydia, when Archie came downstairs. 'You look lovely,' he said, bending to kiss her. 'And relatively unscathed. How did your meeting go?'

'Well, I think. She's not at all what I expected, but I liked her. You might be on for that premiere after all.'

'She managed to talk you into it?'

'It was odd, really. She has a knack of getting what she wants by being honest a about herself and the whole process. The more she said, the more sceptical I became, but by the time we parted I knew that I was going to say yes. You're right, Archie a it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I'd be stupid not to take it.' He smiled at her, genuinely pleased. 'I don't think I want to be closely involved, though. She made it sound like a nightmare. I just need to accept that it's a different medium entirely, another version of my story. There'll always be the book, no matter what they do to it.'

'I'll remind you of that when we go and see it. Are the others about yet?'

'I haven't seen Ronnie and Lettice, but Marta and Lydia are out there.'

'Do you want to join them?'

'In a while. First I want you on your own so you can tell me about Bridget.' They found a quiet table at the other end of the terrace and ordered some drinks. 'So a who is she?'

'We met in Cambridge during the war.'

She waited for him to continue and, when he didn't, saida 'I've been accused of some lazy plotting in my time, but even I can see that's only half a story.'

He laughed. 'Give me a chance. It was when I came back from the Front for the first time. September 1915.'

'I remember. You wrote to me from hospital. You'd been hit in the shoulder.'

Archie nodded. 'That's right.' He was still wary of discussing the war with Josephine, as it held ghosts for them both, but there was no other context in which he could talk about Bridget. 'They sent me to a hospital in Cambridge. I say hospital, but it was a makeshift affair. The military had taken over Nevile's Court in Trinitya and there were beds all round the cloisters. I came round one daya and there was a woman sitting by my bed, drawing. She didn't say anything a just smiled, as if it were the most natural thing in the world a and I drifted off again before I could make any sense of it. When I was more myself, I half thought I'd dreamt it. But she came back and brought the drawing with her. I still have it.'

'I'd like to see it.'

He reached inside his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper from his wallet, creased and discoloured now from years of wear and tear. 'I kept it with me all through the war,' he said. 'It was a small pocket of stillness and sanity amid the chaos.'

Josephine unfolded the image of his younger self, a sleeping soldier on a narrow bed. Even now, Archie could still remember the peace it had brought him. He watched as she traced the outline of his face on the paper, and found himself instinctively removing the years from her, too, trying to remember her as she was when he had first known her. 'Was that really twenty years ago?' she asked, as if reading his thoughts.

'I'm afraid so. Goes quickly, doesn't it?'

'Yes. Far too quickly.' She handed the drawing back. 'I can see why it's so precious to you.'

'It's exactly how I remember that time in Cambridge,' he explained. 'The extraordinary sense of calm a gentle nurses, ordered beds and safety. It was such a contrast to the h.e.l.l of those first few weeks in France. As I began to get better, it was almost impossible to face up to the fact that I was going to have to go back there. I thought I was going mad a despair is so much worse than fear. And it was Bridget who got me through that.' He saw Josephine looking at him intently, and guessed that she was wondering why she had never known this about someone to whom she was so close. 'I had some leave when I was well again, but I couldn't face going home to Cornwall. It wasn't long after my parents died, and I didn't want to be somewhere that reminded me of them wherever I turned, so I stayed in Cambridge and we spent some time together. Even there, you couldn't quite get away from the war. We'd cycle out into the countryside and lie on the gra.s.s by the river, and listen to the dull throb of the guns in France. It seemed extraordinary to hear them there, amongst all that innocent green. I might have thought they were in my head if she hadn't heard them too.'

'You forget how far it spreads, don't you?'

'Yes. Cambridge was a place we both loved, but it was unrecognisable by then, and in a funny sort of way that made us closer. There were soldiers and military vehicles everywhere. The college courts were empty, and the pace of life was slow and dull. I'll always remember something Bridget's father said to me a Cambridge was nothing without its youth.'

'You got as far as meeting the parents, then?'

'Yes. He was vicar of St. Edward's at the time.'

'Good G.o.d. I know I've only met her once, but I wouldn't have had her down as a daughter of the cloth!'

'No. I got the impression it hadn't always been an easy relationship, but they were still close.'

'What happened when you went back to the Front?'

'She went back to the Slade and continued her art training.'

'And you haven't seen her since?'

'No, not until today.'

'She's beautiful,' Josephine said, and he noticed that her voice had a wistful quality to it. 'There's something very free about her. You know instantly that she'll do whatever she likes, and that's always irresistible.'

'Haven't you got enough on your plate?' He made the joke without thinking and wondered for a second if he'd gone too far, but she only laugheda and he sensed that they might at last be ready to talk honestly with each other about their lives. 'Do you love her?' he asked quietly.

'I've only just met her, Archie. It's far too early to tell, but I'm a fool for an Irish accent.'