His American Classic (Part 1)

by G J Morgan

  The bartender came over, lighting the candle on our table.

  “You folks warm enough?” he asked Frank, assuming he was in charge of keeping it roaring. “Give it a stoke every half hour, lob a log on it if it needs it. Can I get you folks any more drinks? Something to eat? Some cheeses perhaps? Some port?”

  “That sounds great,” I replied quickly. Frank and Sally looked at me from over their glasses, as the barman walked back to the bar.

  “Cheese and port? Whenever have you ever had cheese and port?”

  “Lots of times.”

  “When? Name a time.”

  “Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s a lie. What do you reckon, Sally?” Frank asked. “This cheese and port business.”

  “Let her eat what she wants,” Sally sniffed, turning another page of whatever magazine she was reading. “Just as long as she can still get into that corset tomorrow.” The three of us returned to silence again, sipping drinks, reading things, it was all very civil, all very British.

  I enjoyed the beach, everything about it, start to finish. Dave and his dog, Gary, all those lads we met. I liked Gary, I’d never seen someone so sunburnt in a place so cold, he didn’t stop talking either, about his last few nights, sounded pretty wild, told me about his upcoming wedding, his poorly fiancé, his shoestring budget. Jeez, I nearly paid for his honeymoon there and then, I’ve always been a sucker for a sob story, but I didn’t of course. I was supposed to be just a normal girl after all, not the celebrity version of myself, I couldn’t just give strangers thousands of dollars without a real reason.

  Felt nice to be talked to, though, to be an ear rather than a mouth. You’d be surprised how little that happens, fame brings out the worst in people, it is hard to find genuine honesty. Gary invited me to play drinking games on the beach and I agreed. It was fun, sat in a circle, me the only girl, all of us clapping and shouting, took me a while to grasp the rules, they were hardly complex, win or lose, the outcome was always vodka. As you could probably guess, I lost more than I won, not that I told Frank or Sally that.

  Dave was right, too, we did have the beach pretty much to ourselves, except for a few dog walkers. “Only mad dogs and Englishmen, hey?” one said, Frank laughed but I didn’t understand why. Sally, who has been in a permanent state of loss all day, asked if they had the time. They said between lunch and dinner which again they found hilarious, as did Frank. I didn’t know if they were joking, but this place was genuinely unaffected by clocks and time and felt very much dictated by weather and stomachs.

  The sea was so cold, colder than it looked, which was a miracle seeing how uninviting those first few yards of tide were. Frank and Sally stayed on shore, said I was crazy, but it wouldn’t have felt right to visit a beach and not let your feet feel the water. Today was a first, though, I’d never seen people wear coats on a beach. Only in England – this country was not what I expected. Actually, I got the impression Devon wasn’t a representation of England at all, and somewhere quite special on its own merit, a grey Utopia which, though not as blue as back home, was still a place I was starting to prefer.

  “Here is your cheese, miss.” The bartender handed me a plate. “Eat it left to right. Mild to mature.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything else, folks?”

  “There is one thing,” I said. “When I was at the beach I saw a big white house on an island.”

  “Burgh Island,” he smiled. “It’s a hotel, actually.”

  “How do you get to it? Boat?”

  He laughed. “Sea tractor. You can walk to it if you catch the tide at the right time, but when the high tide comes in then it’s either sea tractor or swim. Best thing is to check the tide times the day before.”

  “You have been, I take it?”

  “No. I’ve seen pictures, like stepping back in time I’ve heard. I promised the wife I’d take her there for our twentieth anniversary. She likes all the glamour, the ballgowns and whatnot. Cost me an arm and a leg.”

  “Sounds awesome.”

  “Agatha Christie thought so too. I best leave with your cheeses. Is there anything else you require?”

  “No, that’s us finished, thank you,” Sally added.

  The bartender went behind his bar returning moments later with our bill and a gift.

  “Here you go. You can have this if you like.” He handed me a book. “Apologies for the title of it, I assure you she wasn’t a racist.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me having this? I’ve never read an Agatha Christie book before.”

  “I’m sure. Every house in East Devon comes with a free copy of it,” he laughed.

  “Thank you so much. I will read it and return it I promise.

  He smiled. “You keep it. I’ve another half a dozen somewhere,” he said, walking off again.

  “Can’t believe he just did that, so kind. That’s it, we’ve got to visit that hotel, all three of us.”

  “What, now?” Sally closed her magazine.

  “Not now. I mean, at some point whilst we are here.”

  “Lilly. So far today you’ve told me you are going to eat a Po Boy, whatever that is, go coasteering in Newquay, and zorbing, which sounds equally horrific and I doubt we are insured for, and now you want to go to a hotel via a sea tractor. If two words should not mix they are ‘sea’ and ‘tractor’.”

  “And?”

  “It seems you want to live your life in a state of reckless spontaneity. You do realize that my whole purpose in this team is to be the exact opposite of recklessness and spontaneity.”

  “Sally, we are here for a long time. I don’t mean I want to do all those things now. I just mean eventually, as in this year, or in the future.”

  “What, you mean you may come back?”

  I nodded. “I know you find it hard to believe, but I really like it here. I may even buy a place one day.”

  “Frank, are you hearing this?”

  Frank took a chunk of cheese off my plate. “Sal, it’s her choice where she lives.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s a collective decision. It affects all three of us. Where she lives, we have to live too.”

  “I could live here.” Frank with his two cents.

  “Jeez, Frank. You could live anywhere that has a fire and beer. Lilly, admit it would be career suicide.”

  “I don’t mean now. I mean like, in the future, somewhere I can visit, somewhere quiet, somewhere people leave me alone, where I can be just plain old Lilly. Surely you’ve noticed a difference in me? Surely you’ve noticed how happy I am here?”

  “Only because you’ve run away from everything.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “I don’t mean to sound unfair, I’m just telling it to you as it is. You are happy here because you have taken a vacation. When you go home you will have to face to reality again.”

  “Great. Back to depression and anxiety. Can’t wait.”

  “There are women out there who would kill for the opportunities you have. Literally kill.”

  “Well, I’m not that woman.”

  “Maybe not, Lilly.”

  “I’m too exposed, Sally. There is no respite back home. I don’t want to be famous all the time.”

  “That is the price of fame I’m afraid.”

  “Things have to change when we get home, Sally, otherwise I’ll burn out or worse.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Couldn’t I just make one blockbuster and then retire? I don’t care how awful it is. Some franchise. What about if I go nude?”

  “You’re being silly now.” Sally looked away.

  “Look,” Frank stoked the fire, the embers orange again. “I don’t care how many millions you make, but I don’t think you should give up and become a recluse just yet.”

  Sally put h
er hand on my knee. “Right, let’s wrap this up as I’m getting cold and tired. After we have made this car crash of a movie and we fly back home I’ll hold a meeting with the team, and we’ll sit down and talk strategy and all agree on a way forward. Try and find a way to slow things down a little, look at how we can make you less exposed.”

  “The team just see me as a money machine. A boardroom doesn’t care about my emotional stability.”

  “There is always room for change, Lilly. And you are wrong. As long as I’m in our team the only thing that matters is that you are happy.”

  I smiled and she smiled back.

  “And no talk of emigrating, at least for a while.”

  “You’re just pissed cos you can’t use your cell. Here have some of this.” I handed her a slice of cheese that stank even worse than it looked.

  “Get it away. It’s worse than your roasted socks. Can we go now? Frank, stop sipping that port, otherwise you’ll be unfit to chauffeur. And can someone come and claim this animal. I’m starting to smell all dog, too.”

  * * *

  I could hear Frank in the front seat, arguing with the dark, disagreeing with the GPS, me and Sally in the back.

  “Lilly, I’m sorry if you feel like we are always at each other’s throats. You didn’t mean it, did you?”

  “Mean what?”

  “That you wanted to quit. Stop being an actress.” She pulled a blanket over her and then me.

  “Sometimes, yes. Not that I’ll ever do it. It’s just every now and again I get this feeling of being trapped.”

  “Trapped in what way?”

  “Every way. I feel everything is out of my control, my career, my life, the press. Sometimes I just want to start over. You know, quit while I’m ahead. Quit before I’m fucked up beyond repair.”

  “But you aren’t ahead. The world out there has only seen a glimpse of Lilly Goodridge. There is so much more.”

  “What, me being battered and bruised, failed relationships?”

  “Lilly, that is in your control. You choose who to fall in love with, not the public. You need to be more careful with your choices. Who you socialize with? Some of your friends are poisonous, damaged individuals. You need to pick them more wisely.”

  “Everyone is damaged.”

  “Are they even friends? Seems likes they are just using you.”

  “What do you want me to say? That you and Frank are the only friends I got?”

  “We care so much about you. You know that.”

  “Sally. I need friends my own age.”

  She didn’t answer. The car stopped.

  “We lost, Frank?”

  “Apparently we’ve reached our destination.”

  “I can’t see the house.”

  “I’m fully aware of that, Sally.” Frank sounded pissed. We left him and the GPS to fight it out.

  “Would you feel more comfortable if I employed some extra security?”

  “No. Frank is all I need. No big apes in suits. I feel like the President’s wife enough already.”

  “I can’t stop you being famous, Lilly. It’s my job to keep it that way, you understand.”

  “I know. Thanks for being supportive. I must be a nightmare to work with.”

  “I’ve worked with worse. And you are right, perhaps I need to loosen up a bit. Try to chill out, stop running your life like a military operation. I didn’t realise how affected you are by it all. You need to speak to me more. I don’t know if you don’t tell me these things.”

  “I will, promise.”

  “And I will promise to find solutions. I can’t guarantee I can fix everything but I will certainly try and make things better.”

  “My Sally Bethany Alquist. You have changed.”

  She laughed. “I know. The sea air must have gone to my head.”

  “You’re not even wearing make-up.”

  “No one here to impress, is there?”

  “It’s nice, isn’t it? Not having to impress anyone.”

  “I must look sixty years older. I dread to think what my hair looks like after today.”

  The car started again. Sally’s cell buzzed. She took it out of her coat pocket, then put it back.

  “You got signal finally, then?”

  She nodded.

  “I know how much you’ve wanted to check all day. I don’t mind, honest. You have been well behaved. I will allow it.”

  “Is that so? Well, maybe I don’t want to look at it.”

  “Sally, stop fooling around and just read your goddamn messages before I change my mind.”

  She smiled, taking out her cell again.

  “Holy fuck. My inbox has gone crazy.”

  “Probably all junk.”

  I looked at Sally, her expression had changed.

  “What’s wrong? Asteroids? UFO landings?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Sally. What is it?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let me read them and I’ll tell you.”

  I waited a few seconds.

  “So?”

  “The paps have been busy.”

  “Where? The beach? Today?”

  “No, last night.”

  “How bad?”

  “I won’t know the full extent till tomorrow. I haven’t seen the photos, just a pre-warning from the office. I’ve had nineteen missed calls. Fuck!”

  We went quiet.

  “Hey, don’t cry, let’s not let it ruin the day.” She rubbed my knee. “We’ll assess the damage in the morning. Besides, you got a full day of filming so I need you 100% focused on that. I’ll deal with all this shit. Smooth it out. Everything is fixable.”

  “It’s not that, Sal. I just thought this place was far away enough to be left alone. I thought I’d avoid all this shit. The paparazzi are here, aren’t they?”

  “Looks that way, yes.”

  The car went silent. We both stared out of different windows at the same type of darkness.

  12

  After half an hour trying to work out how to empty the vacuum cleaner, exhausted, I threw myself on the couch. So far, I’d polished and dusted, sprayed things and scrubbed, the house smelt floral, it smelt disinfected, it felt presentable.

  I met Kate on my first feature, she was the costume standby, we hit it off, stayed in touch ever since. We bumped into each other just before I flew out, said she would be in England on business too, Wales she said, some medieval shoot, armour and swords, we said we’d try and catch up at some point, though I never believed we actually would. It was quite the surprise when she messaged me out of the blue checking the best time to visit. I don’t think I’d ever do it, a three-hour drive was a hell of a long way to go for a chat. I messaged her a few days ago, said we could just meet back in LA if the journey was too much trouble, but she insisted, said she was fed up of blood and battlefields.

  I’d just sent Frank out for groceries to stock up on all things slumber party. Frank wasn’t best pleased, not the shopping list but in the company I would be entertaining. Frank wasn’t Kate’s biggest fan and had always associated her with a younger more dangerous version of myself. I’d reassured him that Kate, like myself, had changed too, but Frank as usual would not change his opinion or facial expression whenever her name was brought up. Of course, I ignored his warnings – yes, Kate had a past, we all had pasts. She was a little wild, but she was a good person, with a good heart and deserved not to be written off by men like Frank and others like him.

  I’d ordered Frank to take Sally out for the night, booked them into a tapas restaurant in Kingsbridge. Me and few cast members had lunch there a while ago and thought it a nice place, very them, quiet and quaint, little boats and market stalls. I hoped seafood and sangria might cheer him up, as h
e’s had to earn his money these last few weeks. Frank was adamant it was just dinner, just friends, not a date, but I knew first hand that Sally was dressing up as if it was.

  I checked my to-do list, I’d washed the wine glasses, the shot glasses, filled a bucket of coal, brought in firewood, I wanted everything perfect for when Kate arrived, show off my house, even though it wasn’t my house to show. She couldn’t have picked a better time to visit, for lots of different reasons, the place had changed so much since when I’d first arrived back in April. I’d bonded with it. Before, everything felt uncomfortable, beds lumpy and sofas too soft, everything in the wrong place, wrong height, wrong temperature, but not now, what used to be flaws were now just quirks.

  May had changed the garden entirely, too, blasts of colour everywhere, purples and pinks and yellows, too many flowers and not enough vases to put them in. Our little pond had ducklings now, I fed them, carbohydrates mostly, crusts and crumbs, someone in this house should have carbs, sad the wildlife got more sustenance than I did. With such good weather, I’d spent most of my time outside, sat on my little wicker bench or laid on a blanket, reading on my belly, sucking orange wedges, paddling. Even started baking, found a few bags of cored apples and pears in the bottom of the freezer so most of it ended up as a pie or a crisp. I mean, I was no Julia Childs, but the Aga was kept busy, better than warming underwear that was for sure.

  I’d become used to this house arrest. Hollywood must have thought me dead, I read lots now, the owners whoever they were left behind a ton of books, every room had a shelf or stack. Travel guides and reference books mostly, Lonely Planets all dog-eared, spines bent and cracked, like the book had seen its country. I read them on the toilet or in the bath mostly, read about cities I’d never visit and histories I’d never understand.

  I was addicted to British soaps, too, which was embarrassing. I wondered if I’d be able to watch them back in LA, probably be on some channel I’d never heard of, or on at some ridiculous time of the day. Never know, that might be me one day, I thought. If all else failed on the big screen, one day you might see me on the small screen, Days of Our Lives or All of My Children, even Walford or Weatherfield. I wouldn’t mind, performing was performing no matter what stage it was on, or size of the screen. Work is work, like my dad always said.