Darling Sweetheart

by Stephen Price

  Still wearing Roselaine’s costume, she walked slowly around a circular room. She felt unusual, but not entirely displeased. The room was musty and furnished with nothing more than a small wooden bed, a rickety dressing table and a massive old wooden trunk – but she liked it. When Emerson brought her to Château Saint-Christophe to escape the paparazzi, Frost had shown her to a much more modern and luxurious bedroom in the main building. But as she was getting the guided tour, they had climbed the tower to take in the view from the uppermost windows and something had felt just right about the little space, so she had asked to sleep there instead. Frost had seemed grimly amused at her request but had not argued. Annalise’s everyday clothes were still in her besieged apartment back in Beynac, but she didn’t care. Roselaine’s heavy skirt, tattered sleeves and rib-hugging bodice felt, like the bedroom, somehow more… correct.

  The room had three windows. One looked out onto the village and the wooded valley in which it nestled. The other, nearest her bed, looked back towards the Dordogne. As it was dusk, the views were fading. The the third window overlooked the castle garden with its luminous rectangle of a swimming pool. She peered out: there was a table set on the patio with two chairs. Emerson was expecting her down for dinner, but the garden seemed empty. Someone had placed outdoor candles at regular intervals around the parapet, between the potted orange trees. She noticed a movement and realised that Emerson and Frost were in fact close to one of the trees, he was talking; she nodded as he spoke. Then, the assistant crossed the garden with her customary strut and disappeared into the colonnade. Emerson sauntered over to the table, hands in the pockets of his evening suit. After a few moments, he was joined by the enquiring figure of Talbot. The two men looked up at her window. She abruptly withdrew. She waited a few beats before opening her bedroom door, which was small and crooked, then descended a spiral staircase and followed a corridor to the main hall and stairs. The evening air stroked her face as she passed through the colonnade. Talbot fussed around the table. Emerson smiled at her approach. He was coiffed to casual perfection.

  ‘Hey, how you settlin’ in?’

  ‘Wonderfully, thanks. It’s so quiet here, so peaceful.’

  He gestured at the moon, as if he owned it. ‘Peace and quiet – just what a girl needs after a hard day’s work, huh? The press don’t know where to find us; my men are watchin’ the village and it’s deader than dead.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘You’re still in costume.’

  ‘Is that all right with you?’

  He shrugged. ‘Sure.’

  ‘I think it’s time to get serious.’

  ‘Serious…’

  ‘About my part.’

  ‘Oh, the part, right. Well, if there’s anythin’ else I can do…’

  ‘Actually, there is one thing. I noticed you have stables in your front courtyard.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘How hard would it be to keep a horse up here, do you think?’

  ‘A horse? What for?’

  ‘For going to work on.’

  ‘You wanna ride to the location?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But it’s over ten miles from here!’

  ‘I bet it’s less if you cut across country.’

  With a visible effort, his look of mystification transformed itself into an indulgent smile.

  ‘A horse, huh?’

  The car that Darling Sweetheart shot was put in the garage and covered with a big cloth. The next day, he flew away in his aeroplane. Mummy wouldn’t get out of bed, but Annalise went down to the bottom field in Mr Crombie’s jeep to say goodbye. Her father hugged her lots and said the next time he came home, he would stay forever. She said, ‘I love you, Darling Sweetheart.’ She watched his plane take off then Mr Crombie drove her back to the house. She went straight to her bedroom, where Froggy sat on her pillow. She made him speak; she made him say, ‘Well, bug-face, it’s just you and me now. What are we gonna do?’

  ‘What would you like to do, Froggy?’

  ‘I would like to play with other children.’

  ‘But Mummy doesn’t allow other children to come here. She says that children make too much noise.’

  ‘We could play hide and seek. We could pretend that a monster was chasing us, like a big scary man.’

  ‘Come on!’ She grabbed his arm. ‘I’m going to show you all my favourite hiding places!’

  Emerson stood in the château forecourt at first light, holding two fine stallions by their bridles. One was dapple, the other a rich, red chestnut. Two jeeps with production company markings were parked there too, each with a horsebox in tow. Emerson wore a white shirt, spotless cream riding britches and shiny black leather boots. Frost and Levine admired the animals as a couple of charge hands saddled them up. Annalise emerged from the front doorway. Because the castle was so quiet, she had thought she had been the first to rise; evidently not. Without her mobile phone or travel clock, she couldn’t tell the precise time, so she had slept with the tower windows open to let the dawn chorus wake her and had dressed herself again in Roselaine’s costume.

  ‘mornin’!’ Emerson grinned. ‘Which colour do ya want?’

  ‘Oh – they’re very beautiful.’ She patted both animals.

  ‘I had them sent up from location. They’re spares, not stars.’

  ‘But I don’t need two.’

  ‘Yes we do – I’m gonna ride with ya.’

  ‘Harry… you can’t.’

  ‘Whaddya mean, I can’t?’

  ‘I need to do this alone.’

  He looked crestfallen. ‘I thought you’d like my company.’

  ‘This is terrible, you’re always doing nice things for me and I must seem like an ungrateful cow. But the reason I need the horse is to feel more like Roselaine.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘That’s what I said: I need to get serious. Actually, it was you who gave me the idea yesterday when you rode us into town. I realised that travelling on horseback made me feel… I don’t know… it made me feel right. Roselaine would have travelled everywhere by horse – so now I will too.’

  ‘Is that why you’re wearin’ her gear?’

  ‘Yes. And no more deodorant, no more toothpaste and no more perfumed soap until this shoot is over. I need to smell of horses, leather and the twelfth century.’

  ‘Uh, whatever it takes, I guess…’

  ‘Oh, Harry – you’re so kind. Everything’s such a mess, yet, in a strange way, it’s all coming together. I’ll take this one.’ A charge hand held the stirrup as she mounted the chestnut. Carefully, she turned it around and made for the gate. She waved. ‘See you in make-up!’ She crossed the bridge and walked the horse down the road towards the village. After a moment, Emerson became conscious of the silence.

  ‘Take this one back.’ He wrenched the bridle of the dapple towards the charge hands. The animal snorted and jerked its head in protest. ‘Bernstein!’ he hollered. ‘Where’s goddamn Bernstein?’ Bernstein ran from the gatehouse, pulling on his jacket. Emerson pointed after Annalise. ‘Close-range watchin’ brief, but don’t let her see ya! Go, go!’ Bernstein looked dismayed, but jogged off across the bridge. ‘Levine – the jeeps! Judy – today’s business! Come on, people – let’s move on out!’

  The two-car convoy drove towards Beynac. In the lead vehicle, Emerson studied sheets of paper in his lap. Most were downloads of articles from newspapers and magazines, the rest a mixture of faxes and email printouts. Beside him on the generous rear seat, Frost pretended to send texts from her phone. Then, she pretended to look out the window. Then, she tapped her nails against the wooden veneer of the central armrest, for she knew that would make Emerson look up and say, ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t want to interrupt you…’

  ‘Then don’t.’

  ‘Sorry. But can I be candid, H.E.?’

  He sighed. ‘Candid about what?’

  ‘I’m just thinking of you, that’s all.’


  ‘I pay you a heckuva lotta money to think about me, so shoot.’

  She hesitated, then blurted, ‘Are you sure about her? Do you still think she’s the right choice?’

  ‘Judy… I believe we already had this conversation.’

  ‘Yeah, but I mean riding to work on a horse, in that old costume…’

  ‘Whaddya want? She’s an actress!’

  ‘The way she snubbed you! “I need to smell of horses”… gimme a break!’

  ‘She did me a favour – I hate fuckin’ horses! I like goin’ to work in my big, comfy jeep.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s just the more I see of her, the more I think of all those stories about how crazy her father was.’

  ‘Tell me somethin’ – have you ever come across a family that wasn’t crazy? All families are nuts! I bet yours was – mine most definitely was. Families are the one thing guaranteed to make you crazy… besides driving in LA.’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s a matter of degree. There’s something so… detached about her.’

  ‘Have you read this morning’s press clippings?’ He patted the stack on his lap.

  ‘I may have glanced at one or two…’

  ‘Since you compiled them, you musta noticed there’s much more than usual. Look,’ he thrust a sheet at her, ‘the front page of USA Today – me and Palatine on the horse. “Knight in shining armour Harry Emerson, on location with his damsel.” Do you know how many people read USA Today?’

  ‘Quite a few, I guess.’

  ‘Two and a half million, all of them bang in our target demographic. Now look at this,’ he waved another sheet, ‘ the LA Times, a million and a half readers. Front page, below the fold – another photo: “Romance in France: Love blossoms on the set of Emerson blockbuster”. Variety magazine, page two: “Harry gets his Girl”. San Francisco Chronicle, page four: “Emerson to wed English starlet”.’

  ‘Ain’t that a bit premature?’

  ‘The English Sun, biggest paper in that country, front page – us on the horse: “Emerson steals English Rose – Pop star loses out”. Plus a coupla shots from that hotel in Bristol, but they’re not very good, all you can see is Levine’s mitt. France Soir, front page, another horse photo plus some stuff in French.’

  “‘Emerson est amoureux d’actrice Anglaise’” – it says you’re in love with an English actress.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Well? Are you?’

  ‘Am I what?’

  ‘Are you in love with her?’

  ‘What’s love gotta do with it?’

  ‘It’s just–’

  ‘Did you read the emails from the New York office? Interview requests from Star and US magazines… OK! is already asking about the wedding pics, so is Hello! We can name our price. It’s on Celebrity Gossip dot com. In fact we’re on every goddamn website you care to mention.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I get the point.’

  ‘No, Judy, I don’t think you do get the point. In just a few days, I’ve boosted my profile back up to somethin’ we ain’t seen since the mid-nineties. The last time I got this much coverage was when I married Donna. Uh, and when we split, I guess that gotta lotta coverage too.’

  She sighed. ‘Your plan has certainly worked.’

  Levine glanced at them in the rear-view mirror, but neither noticed.

  ‘Of course my plan has goddamn worked! On Monday, the world didn’t know about this movie – now everyone will want to see it! And I’ve no need to remind you how much money I’ve got tied up in this thing – just wait until those cocksuckers at the studio see all this press: they’ll wish they’d come in for a bigger slice.’

  ‘It’s not like they weren’t offered.’

  ‘I hadda go beggin’! Me, Harry Emerson! “Slow down, Harry, for Chrissakes you’re forty-two.” Forty-two my ass. Still smarter than them.’

  ‘They don’t understand talent.’

  ‘They don’t rate me as a global brand; they think those days are over, but now they’ll see how wrong they were.’

  ‘Sure will.’

  ‘So tell me, what’s your beef with Palatine?’

  ‘None. Absolutely none.’

  ‘Is this a woman thing? Like, you don’t want her in my life ’cos it’s gonna cost you some control?’

  ‘No!’

  The mini-convoy rolled into the keep at Beynac Castle and stopped in front of the wardrobe marquee. Before Emerson could touch the interior handle of his door, it was opened by a bodyguard from the accompanying car. He leapt out.

  ‘Walk with me a moment, Judy. Levine – keep the engine running.’

  A small but very definite hint of anxiety creased Frost’s immaculate façade as she followed Emerson to the far corner of the enclosure, out of earshot. Abruptly, he turned on her.

  ‘I’m the one in charge here, Judy – not Palatine! Not Tress! Not you! This is my movie and this is my plan, and so far it’s worked!’

  ‘ H.E., there was never any doubt–’

  ‘You were right about her asshole boyfriend and you did a swell job breakin’ them up. But we still gotta long way to go on this project and I need to know I can count on you a thousand per cent.’

  ‘A thousand and one per cent, H.E. Two thousand – you name it.’

  ‘Okay. I’m glad I have your full support, Judy, because you’ve gotta lotta stuff to do today. First, I want you to get down to Palatine’s apartment, pack up all her shit and have it shifted over to base before lunch.’

  ‘ On it, H.E.’

  ‘Then, I want you to locate the best restaurant within a twenty-mile radius and book us a table for eight-thirty tonight. Come to think of it, book the entire goddamn restaurant; pay whatever it takes to cancel everyone else. Pick one with a patio: tell them we wanna eat outdoors – that bit is important, okay?’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘When ya have the restaurant booked, tip off a coupla snappers about where we’ll be.’

  ‘You want me to do that?’

  ‘Yeah, but just a few, we don’t wanna mob. Tell them to stay outta sight and use long lenses, that way we guarantee pictures they can sell for a bomb. Now, which is closer to here, Paris or Monaco?’

  ‘Uhh… Paris, I guess.’

  ‘Whaddya know about jewellers in Paris?’

  ‘I guess there’s a lotta jewellers in Paris.’

  ‘Okay, find me a real good one sometime in the next ten minutes and have them call me asap.’

  She blanched. ‘On your private cellphone?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I better get on to all that.’ She turned to leave.

  ‘Judy? Just one more thing: don’t ever question my future wife’s sanity again. Not if you wanna keep your position with me.’

  Frost opened her mouth to reply but the glint in those eyes made her close it again. So she just nodded and walked back to the car. After a brief hiatus, it reversed out of the keep. Tress and his assistants emerged from the wardrobe marquee, poring over clipboards. The director spotted Emerson.

  ‘Harry, good morning, how great to see you!’

  ‘Peter. Hi.’

  ‘Have you seen Annalise?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good! Where is she?’

  ‘Out there somewhere,’ he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, ‘on a fuckin’ horse.’

  8

  Annalise rode through the silent village, her animal’s hooves tic-tacking on the tarmac. As she passed the last shuttered house, she saw a lane leading off to the east and took it. Within seconds, it was as if she’d been transported back in time; the world all around was reduced to just her, the horse and a forest of mournful oaks. There was no noise of traffic, no distant whine of aeroplanes, only the scrunch of horseshoe off damp gravel. Moisture glazed the leaves and turned the air chilly – she made a mental note to ask wardrobe for a cloak.

  The track climbed the side of the valley until it reached a rocky col. After that, it levelled out and the oak thinned to be replaced by whin, wild grass and
the occasional pungent, resin-heavy pine. Palered poppies woke to the sun and a giant yellow-and-black butterfly reeled drunkenly across her path. She crossed a pasture before descending into the next valley, swallowed once again by the oaks, although spears of sunlight now pierced the canopy, speckling the forest floor with gold.

  She met a stream and followed it to a small clearing, where she stopped to let her horse drink. Poppies spread around her like spattered blood. She looked up to see an uninterrupted, picture-perfect view of Beynac Castle, noble on the horizon. There were no other buildings, no visual detritus – not a pylon, pole or wire in sight; just the castle and the forest. The prospect, she fancied, could not have changed much in over six hundred years.

  Robin McKendry, Raymond, le Comte de Trenceval, gathered his robe and pondered Bernard de Vaux where he knelt.

  ‘You must release him,’ Roselaine begged her father, ‘he is our friend, I promise you.’

  ‘Release him?’ the comte wheezed. ‘He is a Frankish knight, and his countrymen would burn us all!’

  ‘Not this one, Father. He saved my life and has behaved with nothing but honour towards me.’

  ‘And you have behaved with nothing but honour towards him?’

  ‘I… of course!’

  ‘You promised your mother on her deathbed that you would remain pure.’

  ‘But I have, Father! And I will!’

  ‘An old man’s eyes see many things, my daughter.’

  ‘Then they must see the truth!’ Bernard spoke and made to stand, but the guard holding his chain tugged it. He yanked it in return and the guard tumbled over his back into the second guard who also fell, dropping his sword. Bernard grabbed the weapon and bounded upright. The comte raised a hand.

  ‘Enough! So you can fight – a useful skill in these troubled times. But I was fighting wars when you were but a suckling babe. What is this truth that I must see?’

  ‘That the men camped outside your gate will not go away until your walls are breached and your head stands on a pike!’

  ‘Leave us,’ the comte ordered the guards. Sullenly, they obeyed. The comte stroked his beard. ‘What would you have me do, crusader? Wish your countrymen away on a prayer?’