by G J Morgan
11
The girl came over for a second time and asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I said I was fine, didn’t want people to think I was taking advantage seeing as I’d already had the tour, already raided the buffet counter. I was trying to blend into the background, look as if being on a film set was nothing out of the ordinary.
I felt a bit useless sat watching, I should have been picking up some lighting rig or talking into a headset. Everyone had a purpose, carrying, discussing, pointing, scribbling. I was surprised at how calm it had been, being a fan of serious films with serious themes. I was prepared for intensity, actors suffering for their role, getting into character, channelling inner turmoil, every staff member being pushed to their physical and emotional limits. So far, I hadn’t seen much directing, whatever direction was required had already been done. The room knew what to do, and when to do it, without prompting or pushing. I think I preferred the other extreme, though who’s to say this method wasn’t effective? I’d have to wait till I’d watched it in its entirety, on the big screen or on my TV. I still couldn’t help but stare though, I couldn’t help it, I was a movie fan, sweeping the floor looked important, a man analysing sunlight looked vital. Just to have a job on a film set was something loud to shout about and I was both jealous and intrigued.
The set was amazing, arches upon arches. You’d think an Englishman like me would be used to such grandeur. Lilly warned me on the drive here, that it would take a few visits, said she spent a week with her mouth open every time she walked into a room or garden, a fixed gawp upon every new ceiling. I couldn’t see Lilly anywhere, I hadn’t seen her for over an hour. She’d predicted there was a chance I would have to be on my own a lot today, I said I didn’t mind, there was enough going on around me to keep me occupied.
It looked like something was about to happen. Extras were being handled, their outfits and hair being tucked in or loosened. Housemaids and footmen even looked impeccable. I tucked my shirt into my jeans, in a room full of curled moustaches and bowler hats, the least I could do was to be tucked in too.
A gentleman in suit and tails sat down beside me, started to mess with his cuffs and waistcoat, before finally acknowledging our proximity, nodding the way a lord might have nodded. I returned the gesture, it was all very dignified, like two kings holding court.
We sat for a while, him mentally preparing himself I expected, me pretending not to be mentally examining my new neighbour. I’d seen him on TV, I knew that much, just didn’t know when or what in, he had the face of a bureaucrat, a villain, someone noble. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d been in an adaptation, Dickens probably, one of those period actors whose voice was meant for a different decade, his beard a different century, a man born in the wrong era.
“Going over your lines?” I asked him, regretting it as soon as it left my mouth.
“Sorry, did you say lines?”
“If you need me to run through the scene with you whilst we wait, I don’t mind.”
“I think I’ll be fine, young man. If I don’t know it by now I never will.”
“Is Lilly in this scene? Lady Alcot, I mean?”
“Yes. I’m about to tell her off actually. Lady Alcot has been frolicking in London with men of colour. I’m about to go all parental and stern. It doesn’t come naturally, believe me.”
“No children then?”
“Me? Heavens no. I’m as queer as a football bat. What’s your role in all this?”
“No role fortunately. I’m just a guest. I’m a friend of Lady Alcot’s.”
“Young Lilly. Great girl. Marvellous attitude. Lovely breasts too which I shouldn’t really say seeing as technically I am her father. So how do you know the delightful Lilly Goodridge?”
I paused, probably seconds, but it felt longer.
“I’m a photographer, actually.”
“Oh, how splendid. You could take some of me. Or is just the young and pretty ones that you’re interested at pointing your camera at?”
“Actually, I’m paparazzi. Or was paparazzi, I should say. I don’t know why I just told you that, it was the one thing I wasn’t supposed to do. Is it too late to pretend you didn’t hear that?”
“You and I shouldn’t really get on, seeing as I detest paparazzi. I’m lucky enough that they’ve stopped bothering me now. My days of hedonism ended in a field in Altamont, after that I started to behave myself, since then I’m deemed low profile. Means they leave me alone which is fine with me. Means I can walk my dogs without threat of my wrinkles getting anywhere near a front page.”
“If it makes it sound any better, I’ve only been paparazzi for a month.”
“Good for you. Awful creatures those people, well, they’re not even people. Their cameras hanging from their necks like big black dildos, a statement of intent. And they’re multiplying in numbers, moving around the corners and holes in filthy little groups. Little packs chasing innocent little darlings like my poor Lilly Goodridge. You know the collective noun for rats? A group of rats is called a mischief.”
“Seems about right. Paparazzi are similar vermin.”
“Don’t know what the collective noun for paparazzi should be?” he paused. “A fuckery,” he said, bursting out laughing. “A fuckery of paparazzi. I like it. And you can assure me you are no longer a threat to my Lilly?”
“Only her best interests are at heart, I promise. I’m Tom by the way.” I offered him my hand to shake.
“Wait a minute. Are you Tom? The Tom?”
“Yes.”
“Lilly was telling me about you this very morning.”
“How much did she tell?”
“Well she failed to mention your profession that’s for sure. Not sure if she’s quite made up her mind yet if truth be told. How did this all transpire? She never said how the two of you met either.”
“Luck mainly. Different circumstances she never would’ve even looked at me. I was the right friend at the right time.”
“Then you don’t know Lilly at all, young man. She treats people all the same. You should know that by now.”
“Even paparazzi?”
“Yes, even paparazzi,” he smiled. “Unlikely friendship, isn’t it? The Actress and the Paparazzi.”
“It is unusual, I guess. Opposite worlds.”
“It’s a theme tried and tested, Tom. We all love unlikely friendships. Foxes and hounds, ladies and tramps.”
“So, I’m the tramp?” I laughed.
“Yes, in that scenario, yes, you would be the tramp. Is the tramp a little smitten for the lady?”
“I’ve only known her for a few days.”
“That’s a load of old piff. Time isn’t a factor. Do you like the girl?”
“We’re just friends. We’re not even friends, really. We’ve spent a few days with each other, that’s all.”
“And now a second, now a third. Could it ever be more than friends?”
“That would that never happen. For lots of reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Well…”
Suddenly names were being called. A man came over.
“Looks like it’s my turn.” He was being ushered across the room. “My turn to shine. Time to be the assertive voice of reason to my rebellious daughter.” Now his jacket was being fiddled with. “I’m not sure of your intention with Lilly and it’s not my business to get involved, my life is complicated enough. As long as you are both having fun and no one is getting hurt, the rest is just overcomplication.”
“No one is getting hurt, I promise,” I said, as he was escorted to his mark.
* * *
I think we finally left the set around six. In the Jeep on the way home food had been the only topic of conversation. A day of filming had left us ravenous, even me, though all I’d done was sit and snack.
“We could go to the
Oyster Shack?” Lilly talking to the window. “I could so eat a lobster right now.”
“It’s not far from here, actually. Well, depending on the tide that is. May have to go the long route.”
“Be nice for you to have a seat, Tom, seeing as last time you were in the bushes.”
“That wasn’t me, remember. That was Vince.”
“Of course, I keep forgetting about your evil twin. Shall we go? I mean I’m not dressed for it, but I won’t be alone, half the restaurant was in vests and shorts before.”
“You don’t think it’s too risky? Paps will be out and about.”
“How would they know? Is anyone following us?” she said looking over her shoulder.
“Not that I can tell. But still I think it would be safer to lay low. They are cleverer than you think. Eyes everywhere.”
“OK, spoilsport.”
The car went quiet, it was an easy silence, fields vast and green, rivers dotted with boats, it was a view that was easy to slip into, without the need to fill it with noise.
“Sorry for the other day, by the way.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For asking you to leave. All that stuff I said.”
“That’s OK. You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I just panicked a little. Got a bit freaked by this whole situation.”
“I can understand that. I’m a little freaked out myself. What made you change your mind?”
“Just silly, me watching you, you watching me.”
“How did you know I’d be watching? How did you know I hadn’t quit?”
“You don’t strike me as someone who quits.”
“Well, I appreciate the change of heart. I’ve had a great day. An amazing day. But don’t feel like you need to, if you want to have a day to yourself, or even a whole week. We don’t need to see each other tomorrow if you don’t want to, I won’t be offended. If you need your space, just say. I don’t want you to feel, like, pressured into hanging out with me.”
“To be fair I haven’t even thought about tomorrow. Still got the rest of tonight yet before that.”
“That is true.”
“I’m so hungry,” stamping her feet playfully, ‘what is it with this place? In LA food was the last thing on my mind, some days I had to remember to eat. Here my whole day is geared around when and where my next meal might be.”
“Try my glovebox. They’re should be something edible in there. I’m used to eating on the go.”
“No food in here. Books and maps, I’m afraid,” she said rummaging through. “What’s this?”
“What’s what?”
“Tom, you naughty boy.”
“What?”
She’d found Ludo’s weed, she held it up in front of me.
“It’s not even mine, well it is, it was a gift, an unwanted gift.”
“Don’t worry, Pablo, I’m not the DEA. How long you had it?”
“Not long.”
“Is it good?” she opened the bag, gave the inside a sniff.
“Not sure, I haven’t tried it.”
“You do smoke, right?”
I nodded. “You?”
“If the mood fits,” she held the little bag in front of her. “I tell you what, Tom. Decision time. Either we go to the Oyster Shack, eat lobster, probably get hounded by paparazzi. Or we stay home and smoke some pot. Your call.”
“Both are risky.”
“Tom, come on, Sophie’s Choice time. Lobster pot or smoking pot?”
* * *
“Are sheep clever?” Lilly sat cross-legged with one on her lap.
“Not especially.”
“Do you think they know who I am? I mean, I feed them like every day.”
“I guess they must do to an extent.”
“They seem to like me.”
“That might be the food, not you.”
“No, they like me for more than my food.” Lilly threw them more bread. “There’s an emotional attachment.”
“You do realize sheep don’t eat bread?”
“These do. Especially Maude,” she said, ruffling Maude’s head as it chewed and chewed.
I burst out laughing.
“What?”
“You do know Maude is a boy?”
“Fuck off.” She looked for genitals that weren’t there. “I’m guessing Harold is a girl too. Better swap them round.”
“Cool names, by the way.”
“My mom was a big Cat Stevens fan.” She passed the sheep more bread. “Well, that’s the last of it,” she said as we left the sheep to fight over crumbs, heading back down the garden.
“When are Frank and Sally back?”
“Not long. Monday coming.”
“Five days.”
“Yep. We better make the most of it. We won’t be strolling round the garden half cut when Frank comes back, that’s for sure. Not sure how long it will be till he finds you lurking outside either.”
“If I’m here at all.”
“You will be, won’t you?”
“I’m not sure. Here, Lilly, come over here at minute.” I walked over to the fence and started to climb. “I wanna show you something.”
“I’m not dressed for scaling heights.”
“I wouldn’t class chest level as high.”
“Well you aren’t wearing my jeans, are you?”
Once over the fence I guided her through the cluster of trees, Lilly a few yards ahead of me, walking through the tall grass, meadows behind her, sun-dappled. I was watching a perfume commercial, a jeans advert. Looking at Lilly made me think of all things summer, made me want to drink Coke from a glass bottle, made me want to hold her hand.
“Where are you taking me, Tom? Is this the part where you murder me? I always knew it was coming. Though I always envisaged it being in the dark, not during a sunset. If you are, can you do it after we’ve had dinner, so I can die on a full stomach?”
“What is it with you and death? You’re always bringing it up.”
“Am I? Depressing isn’t it? Fear of growing old, I suppose.”
“I can’t wait till I get old. That way I can sit and read all day, watch tons of movies.”
“That bit I’m cool with,” she passed me back the joint, it was nearly gone, “I’m just scared of how screwed up I’ll be by then. I don’t want to get to seventy and still be scratching away for the last tiny piece of fame, still have paparazzi at my door getting photo footage of my body ageing and deteriorating.”
“That doesn’t happen. Us paparazzi are only after the young ones now. As soon as you hit fifty we’ll leave you alone.”
“I wish that was the case. You heard of Marla Miller?”
“Course. She’s been in tons.”
“I met her in London. You were there, remember?”
“That’s right. You presented an award together. She had the room in stitches.”
“Well, she is everything I’m scared about.”
“In what way?”
“In every way. She is still having facelifts, I’m not even kidding. She still has an agent.”
“Surely movie stars retire?”
“Not many. She says they’re all the same. They still want that notoriety, they still want to be worshipped.”
“Sad, isn’t it? But you’re not like her.”
“Not now. Give me forty years and it wouldn’t surprise me if I’m begging directors and surgeons for another crack of the whip.”
“I suppose for some people, it doesn’t matter what they have, it won’t ever be enough. Fame is a drug, probably the worst of all is, it’s legal.”
“I just wish there was something I could do for her. Y’know, one last hurrah.”
“And you think giving Marla ‘one last hurrah,’ as yo
u put it, would be enough? Women like her will always want more. You could always twist someone’s arm. Ask someone if she can have a part in something.”
We came to the spot.
“So, what is it you want to show me?”
“My office,” I said pointing over to the tree where I’d spent most of the last few weeks.
“Is this career day then, show and tell?” she walked over to its huge trunk, out of the sun and into the shadows. “I show you my work, you show me yours.”
“I think yours is more impressive than mine. I can’t compete with a film set.”
“It’s not that bad,” Lilly knelt down and looked through the gap in the bushes and branches, towards the house lit up across the garden. “Looks pretty. I can’t believe how close you are. I can literally see right into the kitchen. Could you hear any of our conversations?”
“Not normally, depended on the wind believe it or not, and how vocal you were all being. But no, most of the time I couldn’t hear a word.”
“I’m trying to think of any embarrassing things I may have done whilst you were watching.”
“Well, there was the time you jumped off a bridge.”
“OK, arsehole I walked into that.” She nudged my arm.
“No embarrassing stuff really. Just normal things, quite sweet things.”
“Like what?”
“Silly things. You dancing in the garden, goofing around with Frank. Private things that no one had a right to see.”
“Must’ve felt uncomfortable.”
“It did. The amount of times I wished I could’ve just come and sat with you guys. I mean watching you in the glorious sunshine, jug of iced water, reading a book. And there’s me in the mud and shadows and sweat. You must have had some clue there might have been someone out there. You and Frank must’ve predicted you’d have visitors.”
“Not me. I don’t deal with that sort of stuff. But Frank planned for it I guess, he used to go out every once in a while, check no one was around. Glad he didn’t find you. If you hadn’t been here that night I’d be washed up in some ocean or river somewhere.”