by G J Morgan
We were sat pretty close now, shoulder to shoulder, felt like he was about to put his arm around me.
“I’m cold, Max. Whatever you’ve got to say, can you say it now? You’ve lured me here with promises of redemption and answers.”
“I feel on the spot now.”
“Good, it’s about time you were interrogated.”
“This is hard for me, Lilly. I haven’t really talked about this with anyone. I’ve told you parts of it, but not the full story.”
“Go on.”
“You know I’ve always said I hated my father?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that is still true, but there is a lot more to it. I may have mentioned this before but Salter was a name quite well known where I grew up. There were two things we were good at, always have been: football and horses. A Salter male was expected to be good at at least one, sometimes even both, like my dad. My dad was a big deal in Oak Forest. He played college football briefly, till he bust his knee, some say he was best player ever to play at Waltrip. But that wasn’t his first love – it was horses he loved the most. Around our house were trophies and photos, winning rodeos at various shows. I had a cowboy as a father, and anyone who didn’t know that, I was the first to remind them of it.”
Max took out his wallet and passed me a small photograph.
“You can tell he’s a Salter,” I said, passing him it back. “Looks like a Sergio Leone movie.”
“Mum always joked he was born in the wrong century. He should have been in stand offs and saloon bars, riding off across horizons.”
“What happened then?”
“Well, I happened. My sister happened. There wasn’t enough money in rodeo shows to support a wife and children. My old man did what he thought the right thing to do.”
“What, leave?”
“No, give up on his dream. Dad gave two things up, the football he was fine with, his knee meant he wouldn’t play again, but giving up being a cowboy, he never quite got over.”
“Surely you weren’t that poor? You could’ve made do, got by even?”
“I don’t remember a lot. I was quite young, but Mom says it was pretty hard. I didn’t know any different at the time. It wasn’t till I went to school I realized how little we had. I got teased a lot for how I looked, what I wore. Though it made me tough. In the end Dad felt he had no choice but to find more money. I remember him crying when he sold his horse, Duke, he was a beautiful thing, an Arabian white, Dad must have had him for twenty years. He ended up selling him to a farmer as breeding stock. Mom said he didn’t have to sell Duke, but Dad was a proud man and knowing we didn’t have enough for food or clothes meant his horse had to go. Eventually, Dad got some pen-pushing job in town, did quite well, became Regional Manager, but it always looked like he wore that suit and tie like a shackle. Now, you’re probably thinking my dad was this real hard-arse, he wanted his son to be just like him – but he never pushed me and anything I chose to do I did of my own accord and free will. I too loved horses, not as much as Dad, I rode a little, but I loved football more and I could tell my dad was proud of me whenever he saw me playing in the red and white of Waltrip. But my one true love was dancing and I don’t think my dad has ever been as proud as when I was on stage performing. I can still remember his face when I got my invitation to join Disney on Parade.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a travelling show, a circus really. Go around the whole country, Canada too. Saw some amazing places. I was twenty and I’d never been out of Houston. It was hilarious when I told Dad I’d been chosen for it. He showed everyone, literally drove down Ella Boulevard in his truck telling anyone that passed by. I think Dad just wanted me to be passionate about something and he didn’t care what it was. Even though everyone in Oak Forest probably thought I was a fag. Dad was just overjoyed I was getting out of Texas, he always talked of the amazing places he’d been, he always said Salters were at their best when not standing still.”
“He sounds like a good Dad, Max.”
“He was. It all changed when I was in New York. At the time, I was in New York on a dance scholarship when I got the phone call from my dad saying he was coming to visit. And he did, a few days later he turned up at my little apartment on West Seventeenth Street. He never looked so out of place, he still had his cowboy hat on like Midnight Cowboy. We went for a walk around Madison Square Park and that’s when he told me he was leaving my mom.”
“What, for another woman?”
“No, for another life.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Nor did I. Nor did Mom.”
“What did he say?”
“He just said it was time to go. Said now I was a man and Maddie was off to college soon that he had things that needed to be done.”
“Sounds surreal.”
“Felt pretty fucking surreal too.”
“What things needed to be done? Where?”
“That’s what I asked him. He just said it was time to move on. He had no idea where or how or why. Just knew it was time to move on.”
“How could he leave your Mom like that?”
“I think he always loved her, and he probably still did when he left her. I just think he’d given up so much of his life that he’d forgotten who he really was.”
“Were you angry at him?”
“At first I was. More for Mom than for me. But I understood Dad’s perspective. Maddie didn’t, she hated him before and still hates him know. She didn’t even go to his funeral.”
“I agree with Maddie. What he did sounds cowardly.”
“I did at first. But Dad explained and I understood. Dad gave up so much when he became a father, and he worked hard in a job he loathed to be able to support the four of us.”
“That’s the job of most fathers.”
“Well, my Dad wasn’t like most fathers. He was a man meant to roam.”
“A gypsy.”
“If that’s how you want to put it. I just think he reached a point in his life when he had to do things for himself.”
“How was your Mom?”
“Bad at first, but remarried not long after. Deep down she must’ve known that one day he would leave, it was more of a question of when. And when Dad thought me and my sister were old enough to support ourselves, he thought that was the right time to get back on his horse. I think he was brave. At first, I didn’t. I hated him, but over time I admired him for it. It hit me hard when he died, I drank a lot, a hell of a lot, should have got help, but where I’m from it’s a ‘breathe in, chest out’ mentality. Men aren’t supposed to buckle. No matter the weight on their shoulders.”
“And you think what he did was brave?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I don’t.”
“You didn’t see his face every time he had to put that shirt and tie on, do his nine to five. He never said it, he loved us all very much, but to him it must’ve been like living in a cage.”
“And you think having a child with me would feel like being trapped? Is that what you are saying, Max? Like, seriously?”
“What I’m saying, Lilly, is I never wanted to look at you or look at my children and wish I was somewhere else. I’m just saying, at that point in my life I had to follow what was right for me. At that moment, a child was not the right timing.”
“I’m sorry the timing was an inconvenience, Max. If you remember, it was you who put his dick in me.”
“Don’t be crass, Lilly.”
“What now then, Max? Are ready for fatherhood yet? Or shall I wait a bit longer, till the time suits?”
“You are being childish, Lilly.”
“OK, so what I’ll do is wait ten years when you’ve done all your womanising, got all your Oscar trophies, your star on the walk of fame, and then maybe, just maybe if I’m lucky, you might then consider settling
down. That’s very big of you and so brave.”
“You make it sound vulgar.”
“Well, it is.”
“Perhaps I haven’t explained well enough.”
“Oh, I think you’ve explained it just fine.”
“I want you, Lilly. I want children. That has never changed.”
“That’s the problem, Max. The bit you don’t understand. The dream should have been me and our child, not your career. Being a family shouldn’t feel like a punishment.”
“Don’t go, Lilly. Please.”
“I should have had that baby, Max. I made a mistake. I made a mistake ever letting you get close to me. I made a mistake getting into movies. But I won’t make any mistakes again, I assure you of that. I won’t let you affect my life any more. I’m tired of being broken.”
“You think I didn’t hit rock bottom when you had the abortion? It was my child too. My pain was no different than yours.”
“Fuck off. You didn’t feel it move in your stomach, you didn’t feel how empty it felt inside after. You didn’t feel the guilt of choosing to kill something living.”
“It was the right thing to do.”
“It was the cowardly thing to do. Which you Salter men seem to thrive on. I want to go home now, Max. You look after yourself. Good luck living outside of the cage.”
“I don’t want it to end like this.”
“I do. That is exactly what I want. I want this to be the end.”
“I can’t keep apologizing, not when I’m not the only one to blame here. It was a joint decision.”
“Joint decision? You knew the control you had over me. I would’ve done anything you said, Max. Gone anywhere and done anything. I would’ve had that baby. I just wanted you to be as excited as me. You knew that.”
“Then you should have been stronger. You should have kept it if that’s what you felt was right.”
I was about to hit him.
“Lilly, stop.” He tried to hold me. “Lilly, I didn’t want this. This wasn’t my intention.”
“What was your intention, Max? Sweep me back off my feet?”
“There was no intention. I just wanted to see you. Give you an explanation. I’m as confused as you right now with all this. I’m not used to all this attention either.”
“You fucking thrive on it, Max. You love the attention.”
“Not this attention.”
“Oh, you’ll adapt I’m sure. You always do. Why the fuck did you even want to meet me tonight? Just to fuck me up again?”
“I just wanted to see you.”
“Why? Because you are bored?”
“I have never been bored with you. I’m allowed to still care about you, Lilly.”
“No, you are not, Max. Care about someone else.” I burst into tears as Max took me in his arms, let me cry into his chest.
“Why don’t we just get out of all this, Max. Escape, find some beautiful island where we can watch movies all day and dance at night.”
“One day we will, Lilly. I need to get my house in order, bull strong and horse high. Work out the best way of looking after you, how to protect our futures.”
It was then that I kissed him. A kiss I should never have offered and he should never have accepted.
24
I was in my trailer, spread out across my bed. It hadn’t been a particularly long day, but one of the hardest, which might have been why it had been my favourite day on set so far. Nice to be outside, too, all the horses and hounds, the little boys in knickerbockers, the sunrise over the hills, men riding and women swooning. I could only imagine how beautiful the dailies would look.
I checked the air con. Women had it hard in the 1900s – as men on horseback hunted anything that moved, us girls were left to sweat it out in bonnets on the lawn, with tiny umbrellas and even tinier dogs yapping at our feet. So much fabric on one body, under-dresses and overdresses, I looked down at myself, I resembled a duvet, engulfed by my own dress. I picked up my call sheet, checked how long I had till I’d be summoned again, I had a good hour to kill. I really should go over my lines, I thought, eyeing the script on the side.
* * *
My trailer door knocked. Then knocked again.
“I’m up. I’m up,” I said, scrambling to the door, expecting some girl with a clipboard.
“Oh, Jon. It’s you.” My eyes were still half closed.
“The mystery of your whereabouts has finally been revealed.”
“So sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I’m not late for my scene, am I?”
“A little, yes. I can call off the search party.”
“I’ve been in here the whole time.”
“I know. You must be a heavy sleeper, I think half the crew have taken a turn knocking on your door. I must just have the knack.”
“I’m so sorry, Jon. I’ve not been sleeping too well with you-know-what. Can you give me a couple of minutes to get my shit together?”
“Lilly, would you mind if you and I could catch up at some point?”
“Sure. Later today?”
“No, today is a bit hectic. Tomorrow is less stretched. I’m over in Salcombe, actually, perhaps we could have a quick catch-up and a bit to eat?”
“That would be lovely.”
“Anyhow, must dash.”
“I’ll be literally five minutes, Jon. I’m so sorry.” He closed my door behind him. I felt like I had just been summoned to the principal’s office.
25
I’d gotten to Salcombe a little earlier than I needed to, which did me a favour as I needed to pick up a few bits for later that night. It wasn’t the first time I’d been here, came a little while back with Frank and Sally to fish for crab, but the weather meant we didn’t stick around too long, ended up leaving with our nets and empty buckets.
It was nice today to be able to take my time, casually stroll in the sunshine, look in every shop window, mosey around the harbour with the gulls and boats. Also meant I had more time to spend money, which was dangerous for me and my accountant. Ended up with a ton of meat, some cute pumps, a little floral dress, by the time it came to meeting Jon I was more than ready for my first glass of wine, in fact I pretty much necked it in one.
“How’s the frittata?” Jon asked, picking at his food, like he couldn’t find what he was looking for.
“Lovely, thank you. How’s your salad?”
“Boring. To be fair, as far as salads go, it’s rather pleasant. I’m just a little bored of eating like a slug. Though Mrs Barton-Hughes is rather adamant I get my five a day.”
“Is she here in Devon then?”
“No, she is home. East Sussex. That’s why she is worried. Thinks me being here on my own unchaperoned means I’ll revert to fried breakfasts and cheese suppers.”
“And have you reverted?”
“Take a wild guess.” He grabbed his belly. “She’s coming to visit next week. Hence the urgent detox.”
We both concentrated on our food, taking it in turns to look out across the decking at a horizon of masts and sails, how it reminded Jon of Capri, how idyllic he thought the town was, how he planned to buy a place out here, a little holiday home, a memento.
It continued, this small talk, little jokes and stories, but it was obvious that today’s lunch was more than a catch-up. By the time our desserts came out I could sense Jon had run out of anecdotes and quips, and had no choice but to get down to why we were both really here.
“Oh, I haven’t asked. How was your time off back home? Did you manage to dissuade your parents from going their separate ways?”
“No unfortunately not,” I said mid-cheesecake. “They are proceeding as planned.”
“Oh dear. And how do you feel about that?”
“I’m gutted, obviously. But what can I do? Crying and moping won’t solve anything.
Thanksgiving will be interesting, not sure how it will pan out, them being on the opposite sides of the city now.”
“Can’t be nice for you, though, darling.”
“I’ve done all the tears. I’m glad I got time to understand why they were doing it. Thanks again for being so cool with me running off.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice, Lilly.”
“Sorry. I did throw you in it. Hope it wasn’t too traumatic.”
“There were a few angry faces, most of which from the second AD, so I think you may have to buy him a case of ale for his late-night reshuffling.”
“You must regret hiring me, Jon.”
“You are definitely one of the more challenging women I’ve worked with, but I wouldn’t say regret, no.”
“Am I doing OK, though? I do worry I’m not giving you enough out there.”
Jon took a mouthful of fruit salad. “You do seem to have a lot on your plate right now, even more so since London.”
“I try not to think about all that is going on out there.”
“And that’s the best way to be, Lilly darling. Chew it up, but don’t swallow, that’s what I always say. Must still be hard to not let it affect you.”
“Do you think it has affected me? Is that why I’m here?”
“I think you’re doing your best with all that has gone on. I just wanted you to know that you can ask for help. You don’t have to pretend you are fine when you are not.”
“Is this about me falling asleep yesterday? That won’t happen again, I swear. Think I just hadn’t recovered from the long flight and the whole London stuff.”
“I’m just worried you are spreading yourself too thin, darling. A few of the girls have mentioned how tired you look, then there was the incident with the hair.”
“How did you know about that?”
“I hear things, Lilly. It’s my job to hear things.”
“I promise I’ll get my head back in the game. Trust me.”
“Oh, of course I know you will do your best. I just wonder if there was anything I could do – have a rethink? Lose some of your dialogue?”
“Jon, I don’t want you to have to move your script around just for me. I hardly have enough lines as it is – any fewer, I’d be in a silent movie.”