PomPoms Up!

  The farmer took us to the train station and two days later we returned to the house in Val’s car with towing equipment. I’d never been towed before and doing so in central London was a little hair-raising. So that was the end of Daisy and the only good thing was that I got my £500 back on the insurance. I was put off driving for many years and when I did eventually get another car it was an automatic.

  So, unfortunately, that meant I was still ill prepared when a few years later I was offered a role in the film Vampira (also known as Old Dracula), which starred David Niven. I had two scenes with him and I was required to drive in both of them. I still had my learner’s licence and time to brush up on my stick shifting, so my agent and I confidently accepted the job.

  In this comedy/horror spoof, David plays a modern day, gentleman Dracula whose wife turns black due to a faulty blood transfusion. I play a young woman who he saves from being assaulted in an underground car park. A guy has me straddled across the bonnet of my Triumph sports car, having ripped open my blouse, and is about to use his flick-knife to cut through the centre part of my bra when Count Dracula comes up behind him and warns him away. The delinquent, played by Kenneth Cranham, rushes at him, but is stopped in his tracks when Dracula pushes a button on top of his elegant walking stick and jabs a retracting knife into his foot. After the guy has scarpered, I thank the Count, get into my car, and drive a few yards before stopping and reversing back again to offer him a lift.

  Well…. I jerked forward for the first two takes, but was forgiven, as I wasn’t used to the car. On the third take however, I took off so fast that I only just managed to stop in time before smashing into a wall! I was sitting in the car experiencing a strange feeling of déjà vu when David came up to me and said sweetly….

  “Darling girl…. you do have a licence to drive, yes?”

  “Yes…. a learner’s licence.”

  “In that case, would you mind awfully if we let the stunt lady do the reverse drive back to me? It’s just that I’m needed for the rest of the film.”

  Of all the big star names I’ve worked with, David Niven was certainly the nicest. He was a lovely man and a real gentleman who was in no way ‘starry.’ He gave everyone on the set equal attention and between takes he would regale us all with the most delightful and hilarious anecdotes.

  Soon after that, Val and I had our first engagement party. Our two families and all our close friends were there, some bearing gifts. Both our mothers were very happy about us wanting to marry – even though mine did worry that we could possibly kill each other eventually!

  Everyone knew that the party would have to start without Val because he’d got a last minute job and was doing a night shoot in the country somewhere, but he’d been told he would finish early. We were all having a nice time and at 8:00 I brought out the food, expecting him to arrive soon. An hour later, there was still no Val and no call either. We didn’t have mobile phones then, but there were telephone boxes and the production manager would surely be able to get a message to me, even if Val couldn’t!

  Another hour passed and the smile had vanished from my face. By now, everyone was thinking that the engagement might well be ‘off’! Val’s mother and sister went home and gradually our other guests departed also, except for a couple who stuck around to see what would happen when he showed up! Mummy stayed too.

  He finally arrived around midnight. It turned out, they had been filming in the middle of a huge field miles away from anywhere with not a telephone box in sight and there had been technical problems which meant his scene had to be done a number of times. After I’d calmed down, the six of us opened a bottle of champagne and planned when our second engagement party might be.

  Chapter Nine

  UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTERS AT PINEWOOD STUDIOS

  Most of my television work was done at Elstree Studios in Hertfordshire and most of my film work was at Shepperton Studios or Pinewood Studios in Buckinghamshire. The Sixties were particularly buoyant years for Pinewood and this was where all the James Bond films were made. Even though, thanks to my nose, I never made it into a Bond film – I did, however, spend quite a lot of time there. If I wasn’t filming, I’d be seeing casting agents or meeting up with friends for lunch or, sometimes, just being photographed. In my scrapbook is a photo of me being chased by an alien called a Selenite – and I wasn’t even in the film it came from!

  The first film I did there was The Countess from Hong Kong which was directed by Charlie Chaplin himself and starred Marlon Brando and Sophia Loren. To be working with these three icons was a dream come true! Unfortunately, I didn’t have a scene with either Marlon or Sophia, but I did get to meet them, and one day I watched them in action. Chaplin had supposedly abandoned his screen persona of ‘The Tramp’ by this time, but he was certainly in evidence in the scene I was watching. It was a rather odd scene which required them both to suddenly break into a sort of ‘Little Tramp’ walk. After the scene I watched Sophia doing her make-up from a discreet distance, as I’d always admired her stunning beauty.

  My scene was also an odd one. I played a private nurse to an eccentric lady, played by another famous British actress, Dame Margaret Rutherford, and the scene takes place in her cabin aboard ship. There was a lot of twittering and mumbling of lines which I put down to Margaret’s old age. It was only much later that I discovered that all the cast had agreed to play their parts without reading the script first! I think Chaplin allowed a little improvisation as well. The film received a negative reaction from both critics and audiences, but apparently Chaplin thought it was one of his best films. It was certainly one of my most memorable ones.

  One always has to go for a ‘casting’ even if you think you’re wrong for the part, because sometimes they might not know exactly what they want until they see you. Then there are other times, when both you and the casting director know immediately that you’re totally unsuited to the role and you leave thinking what a waste of time that was. This happened to me once at Pinewood, on a cold, wet winter’s day, when I’d travelled the twenty miles there by train and bus, and now had to make another dismal journey home again.

  I was standing in the main reception area waiting for the shuttle bus that goes back and forth to the train station, thinking to myself that I really should start driving! Two men walked up behind me and I heard one say,

  “I’ll go and get your car, Sir.”

  The other moved forward to stand a few feet away from me and I casually glanced in his direction. I must have been staring, because he turned to look at me and said:

  “Hello…. nasty weather, isn’t it?”

  It was none other than Cary Grant. I was trying hard not to swoon.

  “Yes…. it’s horrid.”

  Then, after a pause,

  “Do you work at the studios?”

  “No…. I’ve been for a casting.”

  “Ah, you’re an actress?”

  “Yes.”

  Just then his car pulled up and his chauffeur opened the door.

  “I’m going into London. Can I offer you a lift anywhere?”

  I was SO glad I didn’t have my own car…. and even if I had, I would have left it where it was! I was taken all the way home to my door and had the most fascinating, if rather strange, conversation with Cary on the way.

  He asked me if I planned on marrying and having a family. I told him that I hoped to do both eventually, but was in no rush to have children as I wanted to concentrate on my career. He then tried to dissuade me from being an actress and said he wanted me to think carefully about what was most important, because he didn’t think a woman could do both successfully. As it’s turned out, I’ve never had to make that decision – it was sort of made for me.

  The next film I made at Pinewood was The Adding Machine, starring Milo O’Shea, Billie Whitelaw, Phyllis Diller and by coincidence, Charlie Chaplin’s son, Sydney Chaplin. They were all wonderful people to work with and I particularly warmed to Phyllis, as I’d been a great fan of hers w
hen I lived in California. She was every bit as wacky in real life as she was on screen. I also enjoyed my role as Judy O’Grady, a woman of ill repute who the film’s leading character is fascinated by. At least, I was enjoying it until we came to doing the graveyard scene.

  In this scene, I’m with a client and, having taken off my jacket, leaving me in bra and skirt, I propose that we lie down on the grave. We did a couple of takes and I thought that was that. Then the director, Jerome Epstein, announced we’d do the ‘continental version’ with me removing my bra. Quite often in those days, a more risqué version of a scene would be shot for the European market.

  I said:

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do that.”

  “I wasn’t asking you – I’m telling you.”

  “But my agent didn’t tell me I’d be taking off my bra.”

  “Well, he should have.”

  “But I don’t want to.”

  “Look…. if you don’t want to, that’s fine! I can easily get somebody else who will.”

  “I need to call my agent first.”

  I called my agent who, in turn, had a word with the producer.

  I didn’t remove my bra.

  About a year later I was at the studios for another casting, and again I found myself waiting in the reception area for the shuttle bus. I looked around for Cary, but he wasn’t to be seen, alas. But someone else appeared who I knew from another film I’d worked on. He was now working on the latest Warren Beatty film and was on his way to Pinewood’s restaurant and bar to have a drink. He suggested I come along and join them. I couldn’t think of a good reason not to…. so I did.

  While we stood at the bar, a large table began to fill up with production and cast members of the film. I had already done the first TV series of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, so when I was introduced to everyone most of them recognised me as a member of a show that they had already become big fans of. I was then introduced to Warren Beatty, who tapped the empty seat next to him and invited me to join them for lunch.

  So, here I was, sitting next to the biggest Hollywood lothario in the business! I had no thoughts as to what might come of it – I was simply enjoying the moment while it lasted. He was, as expected, an absolute charmer, oozing with sexuality, with a wicked smile that any woman would just want to press her lips against. He was showing a great interest in my career and, on top of that, he seemed to find me attractive. What more could a girl ask for?!

  Lunch over…. the first assistant arrived to tell Warren that he was needed back on set for a wardrobe check. I was expecting to say goodbye, but instead Warren invited me to come onto the set with him and watch a bit of filming, if I wished. We were walking along the corridor when he asked me if I had a boyfriend or husband, neither of which I had at the time.

  He then said:

  “Well, sounds like what you need is a good f**k!”

  Being somewhat taken aback by this remark, I was temporally dumbstruck and just looked at him. He smiled a big smile and laughed, as if to make a joke of it. I laughed back. We got onto the huge set and I went with him to his trailer in the far corner, where his wardrobe man was waiting for him with a choice of shirts for his next scene. Having made the choice, the wardrobe man left and the first assistant popped his head round the door to tell Warren that he’d call back for him in about twenty minutes. Warren then closed the door and said to me:

  “Good…. we’ve got twenty minutes.”

  He then walked over to where I was sitting, pulled me to my feet and kissed me. I wasn’t at all prepared for this – and certainly not for what happened next.

  I blissfully lost myself in the warm kiss and the close body contact that came with it, but I didn’t for a second think it would be anything more than a quick smooch. A few minutes later, however, he had his hand on my bare thigh and it was moving slowly upwards. I pulled away from him.

  “Warren…. What are you doing?! You’re due on set soon!”

  He whispered:

  “I think we have time.”

  “No…. sorry, but I’m not so much in need of a good f**k that I’ll have a quickie with someone I’ve only known for an hour…. even if it IS Warren Beatty.”

  “Are you sure? You might regret it.

  “I’m sure…. even if I regret it.”

  “Oh…. what a shame…. would have been nice.”

  I bid him a fond farewell and went home to tell Mummy about my extraordinary day at the film studios!

  About a year later, I found myself back at Pinewood working with Warren’s sister, Shirley MacLaine. This was another interesting, though not quite so pleasurable, experience. I was in the first episode of a new, but short-lived, TV sitcom called Shirley’s World, in which she played a photojournalist for a magazine. Even though I only had a small cameo I was thrilled to get this job, because I’d always been a great admirer of Shirley’s work and was very much looking forward to meeting her.

  My scene with her took place outdoors on a pavement and I was once again playing a prostitute. (I had to assure my mother that this was definitely not type-casting!) I was all ready to go and stood watching her finish her previous scene until the time came for me to be taken over to my position next to her. She was in deep conversation with her co-star, so the first assistant walked away without introducing us to each other, leaving me feeling a little awkward. The director then came over, talked to us briefly about what he wanted from the scene, and went off to set up the shot.

  We were now about to do a rehearsal and I had still not been introduced to Shirley, who was standing right next to me. Unlike Mr Niven – who had taken my hand and kissed it when we first met – Shirley had so far ignored me. It was obviously up to me, so I smiled and extended my hand out to her, saying,

  “Excuse me, Miss MacLaine, but we haven’t been introduced…. I’m Carol.”

  Without smiling, she looked over her shoulder at me, grunted and turned away, leaving me with my hand still extended.

  Needless to say, I am no longer her fan! I wasn’t surprised either when, years later, I read that apparently she and her British crew had developed a mutual loathing of each other during the making of the series.

  Two months later I was back at Pinewood working with another Hollywood superstar and once again I found myself in a slightly awkward situation. I was filming an episode of the TV series The Persuaders which starred Roger Moore and Tony Curtis. I’d already discovered how naughty Roger could be and now I was about to find out that Tony could be just as mischievous.

  My scene with Tony took place in an airport as we are both separately checking in our luggage. When I arrived on set, Tony was in the middle of a shouting match with the director and was stomping around in a very bad mood, uttering nasty expletives. I was thinking that I was about to be seriously let down by another one of my favourite icons and I took my place on set with slight trepidation.

  Tony had calmed down a bit by the time he’d joined me at the check-in counter and, in fact, was quite charming and playful. The director came over and talked through the scene with us and, particularly, how he wanted me to react to Tony. As soon as he walked away, Tony said:

  “No, don’t do it that way…. He’s wrong…. Do it like this.”

  So, here I was, not knowing who to listen to…. the director or the star?! Thank you very much, Tony! In the end I just did what felt right at the time and luckily they were both happy with that.

  I was told afterwards by a crew member that Tony and this particular director had not been getting on well and that usually Tony was in good spirits and very amiable. I was glad to hear that and I certainly found him in a much jollier mood when I met up with him again at a party some time later.

  Not all the films I worked on at Pinewood were so problematic, thank heavens.

  Chapter Ten

  NINETY DOLLARS FOR NINETY DAYS

  In 1966 I left home, much to my mother’s great sadness. At the time I didn’t appreciate just how sad she was beca
use I was a typical young person, just thinking about my own desires and not enough about how it might affect her. Looking back, it wasn’t the best time to go, as my grandmother was frail and didn’t like being left in the house alone. Also, my brother Chris, who had been bullied at school and was missing his father, was now a troubled and troublesome teenager. There were also the tenants to look after. Fortunately, being a very attractive woman, my mother was never short of male company and at the time she had a boyfriend, who was there to help out.

  I wasn’t going far, however – only a few miles and a twenty minute bus journey away, so I was still on hand when needed. My mother and I were always very close and she was my best friend too. We’d do girlie things and take holidays together, and shared many laughs over the years. My moving home didn’t change any of that. Val and I had decided to set up house together in a small, one bedroom flat. I also had a dog now – a toy poodle called Bobo.

  I’d been missing my friends in California and had been thinking about taking a trip back there when I heard about a great deal on the American Greyhound buses. It wasn’t available to Americans, just to foreigners. As I had dual nationality and two passports I was able to take advantage of it. For a mere ninety dollars I could travel all around the US for up to ninety days. I decided to make the trip before moving house. My plan was to fly to New York and stay for a few days with the American student I’d been at RADA with, before setting off on the bus to Texas, stopping along the way wherever I fancied and ending up in California. I’d then return to New York, taking a different route.

  I had not seen Helga since leaving RADA, but we’d kept in touch and she’d always said I was welcome to stay with her if I was in New York. She lived there, but was born in Germany. She was very attractive, classy and was always beautifully dressed – even at RADA she wore expensive jewellery. It was no surprise then, to walk into a large and elegant penthouse apartment with a close view of the Empire State Building. One thing did take me by surprise though – the huge oil paintings that hung on the walls of every room – the subject of each being a nude Helga! I knew she was vain, but not this vain! Nor had I realised just how wealthy she was – she had several wardrobes, each one about three meters wide. One was just for fur coats while another was full of evening dresses.