by ILIL ARBEL
“Well, Mr. Goldwasser,” she said as she offered him a glass of pale, straw-coloured, well-chilled wine and a tray of canapés covered with Gentleman’s Relish. “I understand that we are here to discuss the sequel! How exciting. Mrs. Rivers is extremely gratified.”
“Yes, we have launched into it already,” said Mr. Goldwasser, tasting the wine and pretending to nibble on the canapé, which he loathed. “Mrs. Rivers is closeted with Miss Brinton and Maisie, working on the script. Excellent sherry, Lady Norton. Is this Fino?”
“Indeed it is, Mr. Goldwasser, straight from Spain. I hope it’s light and dry enough to please you before luncheon.”
“Extremely so, Lady Norton. Delightful and most refreshing.”
“And where is Miss Merriman?” asked Lady Norton. “Isn’t she advising you on the script?”
“She will not be working on the sequel,” said Mr. Goldwasser with a bland expression, and sipped his wine.
“Has she not accepted the position you offered her, Mr. Goldwasser?”
“No, I am afraid Miss Merriman has declined my offer, Lady Norton. She will not take a permanent job with GMG.”
“Really? This is hard to believe! A dependent, paid companion – how shockingly ungrateful! I would have thought it was an excellent opportunity for someone like her.”
“She has explained her reasons, and I respect them, though I must admit I am disappointed. You know, Lady Norton, people rarely, if ever, refuse my job offers. I am placed in the happy position of being able to give them a better job at a higher salary than their own situation. It took someone like Miss Merriman, with her quiet and very English integrity, to be the first person to do so in many years. With her clear and precise thinking, the high income did not sway her from her reasoning… Ah, well. One must move on, one must go beyond the disappointments in this life. So, do you know why we want to extend our stay? Your home will become the estate inherited by Lady Fitz-Gardner after her husband, Lord Arthur, is killed.”
“How is he killed, Mr. Goldwasser? I must admit I was following the plot of Send Me No Lilies with interest, and I am looking forward to the sequel.”
“He is killed saving a golden-haired young child who is about to be run over by a car.”
“What a touching, original idea,” said Lady Norton, who, surprisingly, had never read any of the many books or attended one of the films that have used this very same ploy.
“Of course, your estate will be necessary only for the first half of the film. After meeting Nestor Chardonay again at the memorial service to Lord Arthur, Aurora moves to London, where we finish the story. Do you remember the tango danced by Miss Tudor and Mr. Alcott? I have already got in touch with the Wigwam, through Miss Jessica Dean, who seems to be a habitué of this London nightclub. Well, they will perform the tango when the Wigwam is empty and dark, with only a couple of waiters clearing up, and the tired band playing just for them; it will seem to be the small hours of the night. I suspect it may become the climax of the film, but we will leave these decisions to Mrs. Rivers and Maisie. They know what the public likes.”
“Charming, charming,” said Lady Norton, who luckily did not witness the original tango and would have been utterly scandalized had she been present. In her mind’s eye she saw a sedate and elegant couple dancing decorously, probably wearing appropriate evening clothes, not the daring, yellow and black gypsy dress with black stockings, or Nestor’s highly suggestive, dishevelled tie and shirt, all of which Mr. Goldwasser had already made up his mind to duplicate for the film.
“After Lord Arthur’s death, Aurora will donate the entire estate to a London orphanage, where the golden-haired child saved by Lord Arthur lives in dire poverty. The orphanage will move there, be forever well-provided for, and the saintly teachers and beautiful children all live happily ever after. Aurora will stay for some time at the estate, before moving to London, and care for the children like a mother. We will have a few images of the children playing happily among the flowers, with your permission, but we will make sure they are extremely careful.”
“That is magnificent, Mr. Goldwasser. What a wonderful story. I must congratulate Mrs. Rivers and Maisie on their originality and good taste.”
“Well, we hope this is what our audience will feel,” said Mr. Goldwasser. And in case the readers are wondering, yes, Mr. Goldwasser knew perfectly well how trite, tired, and ridiculous were the plots he used for his films, but quite happily continued to produce the very lucrative “tripe” as he referred to them. However, let us make it clear that we do not hold his cynicism against him one bit. Before making judgments, the reader must remember that Mr. Goldwasser made millions of viewers happy, viewers who were too tired, too busy, and too harassed to want to be educated by a so-called “serious” film, and just wanted to be entertained. And on top of giving them wonderful entertainment that allowed them to escape from their often difficult lives, he supplied good employment and support to thousands of people during his illustrious career, being a man of integrity and honour. So we think we should all hold Mr. Goldwasser in high esteem.
At that point Lady Norton and Mr. Goldwasser launched into technical details regarding the contract, which we will not reproduce here since we still don’t understand such deals and probably never will. Plans were made to call the various solicitors, and all was accomplished to both parties’ complete satisfaction.
“Well, my dear Lady Norton, I will now stop taking so much of your valuable time, and go tell my people that all is arranged. They will be delighted with the news; incidentally, your new hairdo is extremely becoming, if I may mention that.” Lady Norton, who did not use her face-à-main even once during this conversation, shook Mr. Goldwasser’s hand cordially and he went downstairs, leaving her to gloat over the great sum of money which would soon be paid to her, and planning to spend it on a specialized new conservatory devoted entirely to extremely exotic and most repulsive cacti and succulents; she might even consider writing a new garden book about the subject, she mused happily.
Mr. Goldwasser made his way to the commissary, where he knew the staff would be assembled at that time. He stood in the middle of the room and told them the good news. Everyone cheered, and as they turned back to their lunches, he joined Glamora and Maisie who were just finishing their lunch, and seemingly talking about something of importance.
“Jake, Maisie and I were discussing Bleak House,” said Glamora, removing a cigarette from a slender gold case and offering some to Maisie and Mr. Goldwasser. “We think you might consider this book for a future project. The drama Dickens manages to convey… I was thrilled with the character of Lady Dedlock.”
Mr. Goldwasser, who was about to light Glamora’s cigarette, froze in mid-action, his hand in the air, holding the lighter. “What did you say, Glam?” he asked hesitantly.
“Miss Tudor is absolutely right,” said Maisie. “Though I am even more in favor of Great Expectations.”
“Yes, indeed, Miss Havisham,” said Glamora, taking the lighter from Mr. Goldwasser’s hand and lighting the cigarettes all around. “Yes, such strong images, such deep feelings, the rage due to the perceived or real abandonment, the possessiveness of all things past… you are right, Maisie. It is a better part for a good actress. Both books are magnificent. I am reading Martin Chuzzlwit now, incidentally. Marvelous book, but no parts for a mature actress in it that I can think of. Still, I am quite enjoying it, and after all I may read simply for recreation, if I feel like it.”
Mr. Goldwasser sat down and looked around him helplessly, much like a man discovering that he is no longer on Earth, but on the planet Mars, and surrounded by people who look like old friends, but are really dangerous aliens pretending to be those people. And yes, we know that we owe this tiny interim plot to Mr. Ray Bradbury, but why not use it if that was what Mr. Goldwasser felt? We could not produce a better scenario ourselves. Miss Merriman, who was sitting at a nearby table and having lunch with Miss Brinton, heard the entire conversation and smiled to herse
lf.
“How many books by Dickens have you read, Glam?” asked Mr. Goldwasser.
“Five,” said Glamora casually. “My favorite up to this point is David Copperfield, because of the authenticity lent to it by the autobiographical overtones. Little Dorrit, however, has such morbid fascination… I can’t stop thinking about Mrs. Clennam, in her self-imposed, dark prison, which is really a metaphor for her suffering, guilt-ridden soul … Well, I must nip to Miss Dahlia, Jake. The bright red hair is not as shiny as it should be, it needs a little rinse. Come along, Maisie, she will be waiting for both of us.” They left and Mr. Goldwasser looked around him, catching Miss Merriman’s eye. Miss Brinton had just left to take care of one of her many urgent duties, and Miss Merriman was sipping her coffee.
“Okay, Miss Merriman, come and have your coffee with me while I eat, and explain to me what happened here. I feel I was whisked to another universe. Glam discussing Dickens? What next?”
“Thackeray, I believe, is next, Mr. Goldwasser, Vanity Fair, to be exact. Miss Tudor has already gone through all of Jane Austen and, I believe, some of Charlotte Bronte,” said Miss Merriman with apparent innocence. “She loved Jane Eyre, but no parts there either.”
“I see,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “There is a plot evolving around me, isn’t there? And you hatched it, right?”
“Miss Tudor told me that she was unhappy about her lack of formal education, and would like to study literature, poetry, and history. Naturally school is out of the question, so I put her in touch with the right people, Mr. and Mrs. Dale, old friends of mine.”
“And is Glam happy doing it?” asked Mr. Goldwasser anxiously.
“Very happy. She adores a good story, and she is reading through the classics with unbelievable speed. Her memory and retention are excellent, after all these years of studying her parts, and she has good taste and strong understanding, especially when she reads the more dramatic style of literature. She then discusses each book with Mrs. Dale. When she starts reading history, it will be Mr. Dale who will oblige. It can be continued through correspondence, when Miss Tudor goes back to America.”
“That was an inspired thing to do, Miss Merriman. Not only it will make Glam happy, it may pave the way to a future change in her career goals…”
“Precisely, Mr. Goldwasser. This was the intention.”
“I was so worried about Glam. She was showing signs of depression, thinking about the passage of time. How did you reach this solution?”
“I listened to her, very carefully, when she told me about her problem. Miss Tudor has difficulty expressing complex thoughts, probably based on past experience that has given her some form of emotional inhibition. I thought that steering her into her own milieu, where she feels at home – the story, the drama, the acting part – might resolve some of it. Literature, like the films, frees her and liberates her thoughts and mode of expression. It worked even better than I expected.”
“Miss Merriman, you are a genius,” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“So what else is new?” said Miss Merriman nonchalantly, glancing at the mogul in a way that in any other woman would have seemed flirtatious, but of course no one could possibly suspect Miss Merriman of that. He looked at her, puzzled by her response, then suddenly realized she was imitating his own catch phrase, and burst out laughing.
“What will I do without you, Miss Merriman? I can’t bear the thought that you are leaving me. Forgive me, I don’t mean to press you, and I respect your explanation and your integrity, but I will miss you so much.”
“Mr. Goldwasser, even though I cannot stay with GMG, please know that you can always call on me if you need me,” said Miss Merriman. “I know it’s not the same as working together day by day, but even across the ocean, we can remain good friends, and I will always wish to help you and Miss Tudor.”
“Thank you, Miss Merriman, for everything. And you are right – we will not let a mere ocean stand in the way of our friendship.”
Miss Dahlia was ready for Miss Tudor, who only needed a quick rinse and set, and then turned her attention to the more arduous task of transforming Maisie. A facial, followed by discreet and elegant makeup, and a good haircut that showed the softness of Maisie’s shining brown hair and displayed its curls to perfection, left Maisie looking extremely charming – though most people would not have been able to put their finger on what the changes were, exactly, except for the very pretty shade of lipstick that enhanced Maisie’s brunette colours perfectly. That mission accomplished successfully, they stopped at Bostock and Plummer, and Maisie came out wearing clothes that certainly were not flashy or extravagant, but fitted so well that the whole world would wonder why it neither appreciated her good figure before, nor noticed her unexceptionable legs, clad in pretty nylon stockings and elegant country shoes. They got into the giant white car that always followed Glamora like a puppy, and returned to Norton Hall, with Maisie almost bursting with gratitude and happiness, constantly pulling out her new hand mirror to admire herself.
Nestor Alcott came to the door to look at the beautiful evening sky as they pulled into the driveway. Stepping forward to open the door for his Goddess, and standing aside to let the two ladies get out of the car, he suddenly stopped and stared, then started laughing. “You did it, Maisie! You look gorgeous!” Glamora laughed. “Go have a glass of cold American beer, children,” she said with utmost good nature. “Tell Nes all about our adventure, Maisie.” She glided into the house, pleased with her day’s work and happy to get away from Nestor, whose devotion rather wearied her. He was so different from Hank, whom she truly missed… such a charming young man, Hank, so much more depth to him than to this silly, smitten Nestor Alcott… Suddenly she thought, did she like Hank so much simply because he was not smitten with her? Hard to tell. Things may change now, though, she thought, looking back to see the two young people who were deep in conversation. She would have been less happy if she had heard them.
“She called me Nes, Maise! She had never done that before, ever, she always calls me Mr. Alcott!”
“She was in a very good mood; she liked our adventure,” said Maisie. “Snap out of it, Nes, and try to pay some attention to me. After all, I did go through all that trouble because of your advice, so you might as well show some enthusiasm.”
“Sorry, Maise. You’re looking swell. I knew you would!” said Nestor apologetically.
“Do you like the clothes, and the shoes?”
“Love them. But it’s your face which is most important, you simply glow. You must keep the lipstick, it really does something for you.”
“I will. I bought three of them,” said Maisie complacently.
“Let’s go and get some dinner, and you can tell me what they put you through. We must compare notes.”
After a pleasant dinner and a detailed report of her transformation, Maisie was sipping her coffee quietly, and suddenly said, “I am going to write to my fiancé tonight, Nes.”
“I thought you were mad at him because of this girl,” said Nestor.
“I am going to formally release him from our engagement, and let him get on with his life.”
“Wow! Really? Are you sure?”
“Perfectly sure. We have drifted apart, we no longer follow the same road. There is no point in prolonging this agony.”
“Good for you, Maise. You can do better than this two-timing scoundrel.”
“I can’t say I blame him, to be quite fair. Things change, people change… He is not really a scoundrel, he just no longer loves me. But I have changed too, considerably so, and not just in my looks. I think it’s all for the best – and thank you for standing by me.”
“What are friends for? Look how you are trying to help me get over my situation with Miss Tudor… Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.”
“I think everything will improve now, somehow. What with the sequel, which means more work for both of us, and soon going back to the States, life will be fun. I am looking forward to the sequel.”
In the meantime, Miss Merriman was on her way to Mr. Choyce’s house. They had not met for a while, and this was a pleasant occasion.