The Girl Who Made Good in America

by James G. Dow

  “Well,” said Theresa, “we could perhaps finance the local choir on their journeys to competitions. They are always running raffles for that.”

  “Good one, Theresa. Lochside Thistle Pipe Band could do with new uniforms, but they are very expensive. Look, let’s leave it for a bit to see how much the trust will be worth in a few months.”

  “Good idea, Mr Hamilton. In the meantime, I’ll just jot down suggestions as they come into my head.”

  “Alex, can you convince her to stop addressing me as Mr Hamilton, especially as you always call me Gavin? After all, your wife and I are equal partners in this venture.”

  “OK, Gavin it is from now on,” said Theresa, “but only in private.”

  “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot,” said Gavin. “My publisher informed me that Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer could be interested in the film rights. They’ve already put some cash down on an option to buy. They’ve also asked me to write a screen play for them. That’s something I’ve never done before but I’ve got the rest of the winter to tackle it. They’ll pay me directly for the film script but, if they like it and take up their option on the film rights, a lot of money will flow into our trust fund.”

  “My God, but you’re a cool customer, Gavin. That’s the second most exciting news I’ve ever heard and you almost forgot to tell us about it,” said Alex.

  “Only the second most exciting?” said Gavin.

  “When Theresa told me she was pregnant, that topped the bill.”

  Theresa really got a big kick out of driving that classic old Rover. Will Mowbray said she was the best pupil he’d ever had and he’d taught mainly young men how to drive the company trucks. She was a natural. Every day, she would collect her mother, drop her at the Lochside shops on the main street, where her mother would meet old friends and neighbours and buy fresh food. When Theresa suggested that she move back into town to live, thinking she may be lonely, her mother made it quite clear she was perfectly happy at Silvertrees. Besides, it was now the family home, which her two sons visited when they got the chance. Theresa was relieved. She didn’t like the idea of the house being empty.

  The long winter ended and spring arrived with a profusion of colour. Azaleas and rhododendrons abounded on both sides of the road to Balmaha in a riot of red, pink, and white. Gavin had sent his finished script to MGM. It had been hard work, fitting it in with his pastoral care, and he’d had to burn the midnight oil. Still, he’d enjoyed the new experience and thought he’d done a good job. He’d been paid in full so, even if he heard nothing further, it had been a worthwhile exercise.

  On the 1st June, a letter from the publisher informed him that Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer had taken up the option on the film rights and the balance had been paid in full. A cheque for £10,000 was enclosed. On the 8th June, he received a telegram requesting him to meet two people from MGM at Prestwick Airport at 10am on the 11th June to take them to Lochside and book them into a decent hotel. It would be expedient to carry a placard with his name on it. Gavin hurried to tell Theresa and Alex the good news.

  “10,000! That’s a lot of money just for the right to make a picture,” said Theresa.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I wrote a pretty good screen play, Theresa.”

  “I wasn’t being insulting, Gavin. I’m just amazed.”

  “Why are they coming, Gavin?” said Alex.

  “There’s the telegram. You know as much as I do. Ah well, we’ll find out soon enough, I suppose. In the meantime, our trust fund is looking healthier all the time.”

  “Where are you going to book them in, Gavin? There isn’t a real posh hotel in Lochside. You can’t put those Americans up at the Lochside pub. They should really stay in Glasgow.”

  “The telegram says it’s got to be Lochside.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Theresa. “This house has guest bedrooms and facilities. They can stay here at a pinch.”

  “Thanks, Theresa. We’ll play it by ear until I see what they’re like.”

  “The baby’s crying, Alex – could you have a look at her?”

  “I’ll fix her. You and Gavin can talk business.”

  When Alex went upstairs, Gavin said, “I was surprised when you left Silvertrees, Theresa. I really thought you had a spiritual connection there.”

  “I meant to tell you earlier, Gavin. Callum moved on some time ago. I’d like to think he realised I had found a new happiness and his presence was no longer needed. Do you think that could be true?”

  “If you believe it, lass, it’s true. You’ve grown, Theresa. You are now a 21-year-old woman with a maturity far beyond your years.”

  “You’ve been a great comfort to me, Gavin. There’s one lesson I’ve really learned, though.”

  “And that is?”

  “Life is most definitely for the living.”

  As Gavin stood at the exit terminal holding up his placard, he was approached by a casually dressed young couple. “Hi, I’m Greer Garson and this is Henry Fonda.”

  “Gavin Hamilton. I’m very glad to make your acquaintance. Shall we go? I have a car waiting. We can talk on the way. I have a lot of questions.”

  “So have we. I see you are a clergyman.”

  “Yes, does that bother you, Miss Garson?”

  “Oh, please call me Greer, and he’s Hank. We’re going to be working together, so I’d like us to be friends. Your being a clergyman doesn’t bother me one whit. I’m just surprised that a man of the cloth could write such a tough script. What do you think, Hank?”

  “I’m not surprised. We had a parson in my home town who’d bin a pro boxer. He also chewed tobacco and was as tough as a nickel steak. You done any boxing, Gavin?”

  “Yes, but amateur only,” said Gavin. “I played jazz piano professionally in London for a while. You meet some strange characters in that environment. I’ve used them in other novels. That might explain why I don’t write like your average holy roller. Now, may I ask why you’ve come all the way from Hollywood?”

  “We haven’t come straight from America, Gavin,” said Greer. “We were in London, just finishing another picture. When the boss asked me to read your script, I was blown away. I told him right away that I wanted the part of Terry Ford.”

  “Me too,” said Hank, “it’s the best script I’ve read in years. I can’t wait to get my teeth into the role of Mickey Ford.”

  “I see. You are both actors.”

  “That’s right, we’re working actors. You’ve obviously never heard of us. We’re pretty well known back in the States. Did you think we were suits?”

  “Suits?” enquired Gavin.

  “Sorry, executives,” said Greer.

  “I didn’t know what to think. I never go to the picture house and this is the first film script I’ve ever done. I’m still mystified as to why you’ve come all this way.”

  “Your first script?” said Hank, “That’s incredible. You could make a fortune in the States.”

  Greer nodded assent, “That’s true but, to put you in the frame, we’re here to get background before the film is shot. We want you to show us Loch Lomond and the glen. We have to get a feel for the place and the people so that we can do justice to this wonderful story. After I read the script, Gavin, I got hold of a copy of the book and read it in one sitting. I’m willing to bet that the tale is based on fact. I’d really love to meet the real Terry Ford, whatever her real name is. That would really help me to get into the character. She must have been one gutsy kid.”

  “You are very astute, Greer.”

  “Yep, she’s not just a pretty face,” said Hank.

  “There’s a possibility you may get to meet the real Terry,” said Gavin. “I’d have to check with her and see if she’s agreeable. She’s not 16 now. Her life is vastly different to what it was then. All that drama took place four or five years ago.”

  Gavin began to relax in the company of the two Americans. They were both down to earth people and they enthused about the countryside. Gavin took them on a bit
of a cook’s tour, skirting Glasgow and travelling the byways through picturesque little villages. By the time they reached Lochside, Gavin had decided to accept Theresa’s offer to put them up.

  Theresa opened the front door and stepped back in disbelief. “Allow me to introduce your hostess, Theresa Duff. Theresa, this is Greer Garson and Hank Fonda.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m just flabbergasted to see them on my doorstep.”

  Greer said, “There you go, Gavin, at least one person has recognised us. It’s real nice of you to take us in at such short notice, Theresa. May we come in?”

  “Of course, of course, come away in. I’m so shocked I’ve forgotten my manners. I’ll put the kettle on straightaway.”

  They had tea with Scottish oatcakes and cheese and then Theresa showed them to their rooms. “This is great, Theresa. We feel right at home here already. I know that you and I are going to get along just fine,” said Greer.

  When Alex came home, he was surprised to find the house full of film stars. Sure, there were only two but their personalities seemed to fill the room. Introductions to the two bairns followed, then Gavin rose to bid them goodnight.

  “Tomorrow, Theresa will show you around. She’s my business partner and she knows all about the story. You’ll be in good hands.”

  After a hearty breakfast of porridge and cream, bacon and eggs, they set off in the Rover. Henry Fonda sat in the back with Marty. Greer Garson wrapped Patricia in a shawl and sat in the front while Theresa drove.

  When they reached Silvertrees, Theresa explained how the young lovers had passed here regularly. “Would you like to see inside?”

  “Can we? That would be terrific, Theresa.”

  “Mother, this is Greer and Hank. They are visitors from America. Meet my mother, Mary McCann.”

  “Oh, you must be Theresa’s friends from Pittsburg.”

  Greer glanced at Theresa before replying, “No, ma’am, we’re from Los Angeles.”

  “It’s a charming cottage, ma’am,” said Hank, “kinda reminds me of my folks’ place in Virginia.”

  “I see you have a piano,” said Greer. “Do you play, ma’am?”

  “Please call me Mary. No, I don’t play. The piano came with the furniture.”

  “Do you mind if I try it out?” said Greer. “I took lessons when I was a kid.”

  “Be my guest, please. The last time it was played was by Reverend Hamilton.”

  “That Gavin sure gets around,” said Hank.

  Greer sat at the piano and sang,

  Gin a body meet a body

  Comin’ through the rye,

  Gin a body kiss a body,

  Need a body cry.

  Ilka lassie has her laddie,

  Nane they say hae I,

  Yet a’ the lads they smile on me

  When comin’ through the rye.

  “That was lovely, Greer. You must be of Scots descent to sing that with such feeling,” said Mary.

  “Actually, I’m English but I’ve always loved that song. I had to sing it in a picture once. However, that scene finished up on the cutting room floor – so much for my singing voice. The lyrics are by Rabbie Burns, as the Scots call him.”

  “Sam Goldwyn claims him as that great Jewish poet, Rabbi Burns,” said Hank.

  Mary laughed and said, “Do you play, Hank?”

  “I’m afraid not, Mary. I got no talent. All I do is pretend to be other people and, for that, the boss throws money at me.”

  “He’s an actor, Mary, in the movies,” said Greer. “We both are. That’s why we’re here. We may be shooting a picture right here on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. Your pretty daughter is showing us the sights.”

  “I’m going to show them the glen now, Mother. Could you mind the bairns for an hour?”

  “Of course I will. The glen is at its bonniest at the moment. The red rowanberries of the mountain ash look as though they’ve been hand polished. There’s no prettier place than Scotland at this time of year. Other lands have bigger mountains and longer rivers, but the variety of soft colours in this wee place are a delight to the eye.”

  “My, that was quite a speech, Mother, and surprising too, considering you’re from the emerald isle.”

  “Oh, Ireland’s lovely, but I’ve grown to love the natural wildness of the west of Scotland more.”

  There wasn’t a vestige of a breeze as they went up the glen. Crossing the burn on natural stepping stones, they rested at King’s Linn, at the side of the waterfall. Resuming the walk, Theresa showed them a spring trickling out of the rock face. “That’s Bruce’s Well. Taste the water.”

  Hank cupped his hands and drank deeply. “They’d pay a dollar a bottle for that stuff at the 21 club in New York.”

  “Would that be something to do with Robert the Bruce, Theresa?” said Greer.

  “Yes, legend has it he rested and refreshed himself here after a lost battle with the English.”

  Theresa led them to a small, sheltered bower, carpeted with pink heather, the flower of Scotland. The air was heavy with the smell of wildflowers, and the only sound was the drone of bumblebees, drifting among a nearby patch of buttercups. Greer caught up with Theresa and whispered, “This was the place. I can feel it.”

  “Feel what, Greer?”

  “Theresa, if there was ever an ideal spot to surrender to a lover, this is it. Yes, this is where Terry Ford became a woman.”

  “What makes you think so, Greer?”

  “I can tell by the wistful look on your face, Theresa. Terry Ford and you are one and the same.”

  Hank said, “What are you girls whispering about?”

  “Theresa is Terry Ford, Hank.”

  “Shucks, that’s no secret. I already had that worked out.”

  “Really! How?” said Greer.

  “Well, when you gals were getting acquainted last night, I was talking to Alex and Gavin. Seemed to me they were a mite over-protective of Theresa. She’s pretty, she’s the right age, and she has a 3-year old kid, but Mary clinched it this morning when she mentioned Pittsburg. As Sherlock Holmes would say, it’s elementary, my dear Garson.”

  Theresa smiled and shook her head in resignation. She understood that good actors had to be intelligent and these two were the best. “All right, you two, you’re too smart for me. Well, now you know, you can ask anything you like.”

  That evening, Gavin came to the house to get a report on the day’s activities. Greer tackled him straightaway, “Why didn’t you tell me Theresa was the heroine of the story?”

  “I thought it would be more rewarding to throw you together and establish a rapport. If that happened, I knew an astute lady like yourself would quickly work it out. On the other hand, if you two didn’t gel, there was nothing to be gained by knowing. After all, Theresa still wants her privacy intact. What have you got to say, Hank?”

  “Gavin, it’s been a wonderful day. That glen is a magic place. It sure cast a spell on me – yep, a film maker’s paradise.”

  “Theresa, would you play that record by Father Gallagher? – you know the one I mean,” said Gavin.

  The haunting lyrics of ‘Loch Lomond’ were heard with rapt attention. “Who is that guy? What a voice!” said Greer.

  “That’s Father Dermot Gallagher, the local Catholic priest.”

  “Gee, I’d sure like to meet him,” said Greer.

  “I would have brought him along tonight but I’ve just driven him to the airport. He’s been called to Rome immediately. It seems he’s destined for higher things,” said Gavin.

  “My, that was quick,” said Theresa, “no goodbyes to his parish.”

  “Yes, he regrets that, but the hierarchy says jump and he says how high? I told him I envied him the chance to enjoy the wonders of Rome but he wasn’t looking forward to several years of study in the Vatican enclave. He really enjoyed Lochside and the bonnie, bonnie banks. The next time we see him, I think he’ll be wearing the red hat of the Cardinal.”

  “Kicked upsta
irs, huh?” said Hank. “Ah, well, never mind, that’s a wonderful recording he’s left us.”

  “Why, that song epitomises the film,” said Greer. “That could provide the background sound. I can hear the sweeping strings, the distant bagpipes, and that marvellous tenor voice at different times throughout the movie. It’s perfect. Gavin, your script enchants me even more now. You’ve done a wonderful job.”

  “The story virtually wrote itself, Greer. Theresa and Callum really lived that song, but, having said that, I’m pleased with the script. It’s been a very fulfilling task.”

  “Well,” drawled Hank, “I reckon we’re done. Another day here and I wouldn’t want to leave.”

  “There’s just one more item to discuss,” said Gavin. “The studio doesn’t like the title, Forbidden Love.”

  “I agree,” said Hank, “It should be called Loch Lomond, or The Bonny Banks, or The Magic of the Glen, you know, something really Scotch.”

  “Well, they think it is basically an American tale and the title should reflect that. They want to call it The Girl Who Made Good In America. They’re waiting for my approval. What do you think, Theresa?”

  “Gavin, three years ago, I would have been appalled, considering all the pain I was suffering in Pittsburg. Now, however, with the wounds healed, and all the good things that have happened since my time there, the title’s not far from the truth. Yes, I like it.”

  The Girl Who Made Good In America

  starring

  Greer Garson and Henry Fonda.