In one brief, sunlit morning she had been transformed from a girl into a woman. She began to laugh. ‘The studio!’ she said, her eyes dancing. ‘There’s still time to save Rogan from drinking himself into oblivion. We could at least finish Henry’s prevarication scene today.’
Vidal glanced at his watch and began to dress swiftly. With luck, Harris would have held everything together. Valentina was right. They could still shoot considerable footage if they moved fast.
As she slipped on lingerie, dress and shoes, she watched Vidal. The strong muscles of his back rippled sensuously as he pulled on his shirt. His trousers hugged his hips, his fingers long and lean as he buckled his broad leather belt.
‘Ready?’ he asked, as she hastily combed her disarrayed hair.
She nodded.
‘Good. Let’s see if we can get Tennant back on the set with the same speed.’
He picked up the telephone receiver, asked for an outside line and quickly dialled Rogan’s Mulholland Drive number.
Valentina could not hear Rogan, but she could imagine his consternation as Vidal said curtly, ‘I’m leaving for the studio now and I expect you to be there when I arrive. If you’re not, then you’re out of the movie.’
He didn’t wait for Rogan to reply. The receiver crashed down on its cradle and he grabbed Valentina’s hand. ‘I reckon that gives him ten minutes at the most. Think he’ll make it?’
‘I hope so,’ she gasped as they raced through the gardens. ‘He’s pretty resilient when he wants to be.’
‘He’ll have to be to cope with a king-size hangover, the termination of his engagement and the bruising he must have sustained when I kicked him out of the door,’ Vidal said drily as he bundled her into the back of the Rolls.
‘Do you think he’ll take it badly?’ Valentina asked with concern as the car began to speed down the rhododendron-lined driveway and out on to Sunset Boulevard.
‘The only thing Rogan takes badly is a bad press notice,’ Vidal said with a grin. ‘Don’t worry about our handsome heart-throb. He’ll survive.’
Once at the studio, Valentina was hurried through makeup, hairdressing and costume at breakneck speed. When she walked on to the set she was subjected to several curious glances and there were low murmurs of speculation. She smiled to herself. Let them speculate all they liked. Everything she had ever hoped for and dreamed of had come true. Vidal loved her. They would never again be apart.
Make-up had done a skilful job of disguising the ugly graze on Rogan’s forehead.
‘We’ll have to shoot the whole scene from his left side,’ Don said. ‘It won’t make any difference today, but we could run into difficulties tomorrow in the court scene.’
‘We’ll shoot him in profile till it’s healed,’ Vidal said, ignoring Rogan’s malevolent glance.
‘Barbarian,’ Rogan hissed beneath his breath to Leila. ‘He knows I photograph best on my right.’
‘What happened to you?’ Leila asked curiously.
Rogan grimaced. His head hurt excruciatingly and his body felt as if it had been run over by a truck. ‘Hell knows,’ he said bitterly, ‘I don’t.’
‘Places everybody,’ Vidal called curtly. ‘I want one run-through and I want it faultless.’
Rogan’s eyes sought Valentina’s, his eyebrows rising questioningly. They hadn’t had a moment alone to talk and he wanted to know what had gone on between her and Rakoczi. After his humiliating exit he had driven home and swallowed a large brandy, terrified that Rakoczi was going to demand replacements for both of them. Then had come his telephone call and he had breathed a sigh of relief. Rakoczi had obviously realized that he wouldn’t be easy to get rid of. His name carried weight at Worldwide. Gambetta wouldn’t have invested so heavily in this movie if he hadn’t had a star like himself to carry it. But Valentina did not have the same prestige. If she was replaced it would mean weeks of reshooting. The thought made him feel ill. One day longer than necessary with Rakoczi would be a day he could well do without.
Valentina, aware of his anxiety, gave him an encouraging smile as she sat on the throne next to Sutton. She would have to talk to Rogan, but the studio, with its scores of listening ears, was definitely not the right place to do so.
The anxiety in Rogan’s eyes cleared. Rakoczi had obviously failed in reducing Valentina into a tearful wreck. And tonight would be a damned sight different to last night. There would be no heavy quantities of booze. He’d stay well clear of it. Tonight was a night he wanted to remember in glorious detail.
The make-up girl hurried forward and powdered the shine away from Sutton’s nose and forehead. The set became suddenly quiet and there was an air of tenseness as she retreated.
‘Places everyone,’ Vidal said, his eyes flicking over everything from the jaunty swing of Rogan’s cloak to the carefully arranged folds of Valentina’s gown. ‘This is a take.’
‘Tennant,’ one of the men near the cameras called, ‘The Warrior Queen, scene seven, roll’em.’
The scene was shot in two takes and there were exhalations of relief from the cast. At last they were under way again. Rumours that Rakoczi had physically beaten Worldwide’s highest salaried male star could be indulged in later over drinks at Romanoff’s or the Derby.
‘Okay,’ Vidal said at last, well pleased with the work that had been accomplished, ‘that wraps it up for today.’
‘Thank God,’ Rogan said to Valentina, careful that Vidal should not overhear him. ‘I’ll pick you up from your dressing-room after I’ve showered and changed.’
She nodded. Her dressing-room would be as private a place as any to break the news to Rogan that they were no longer engaged.
Vidal looked across at her, concern in his eyes. Without being told, he knew that she was about to sever her relationship with Rogan. She smiled and his concern faded. By the time she had finished with Rogan, he would think the termination of the engagement had been all his own idea.
His eyes travelled meaningfully from her eyes to her lips and she felt the colour rise in her cheeks. He was making love to her without touching her, without speaking to her. Desire leapt along her veins, hot and insistent. He would be waiting for her when she had finished talking to Rogan. They would talk together, laugh together, make love together. Perhaps they would even view the day’s rushes together.
‘Well, well,’ Sutton said curiously as she hurried away to her dressing room, her eyes glowing, her face radiant. ‘I wouldn’t have thought our dear Rogan capable of stirring such deep emotions. It seems that I’ve sadly under rated him.’
‘I’d give a lot to know how he came by those bruises,’ Don Symons said, picking up his jacket.
‘Rakoczi, without a doubt,’ Sutton said, unperturbed at the thought of their director laying violent hands on his male lead.
Don shook his head. ‘That isn’t Mr Rakoczi’s style. He can decimate Tennant verbally without resorting to physical violence.’
‘It does seem a little extreme,’ Sutton agreed. ‘I shall certainly ensure I don’t commit the same misdemeanour. Physical abuse for the mere crime of not appearing on the set would mean my having to look for my livelihood elsewhere.’
‘If that was all the misdemeanour was,’ Don said drily.
Sutton raised his eyebrows. ‘But my dear boy, what else could it be?
Don shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but no doubt we’ll soon find out.
Tennant isn’t exactly the soul of discretion.’
‘Mr Tennant will be coming round in a few minutes,’ Valentina said as Ellie unhooked her heavy medieval robes, and she stepped free of them. ‘Would you mind leaving when he arrives? I need to talk to him in private.’
‘Will you need me later?’ Ellie asked, handing Valentina cleansing cream and tissues.
‘No, take the evening off, Ellie.’
Ellie went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, testing the water temperature carefully and putting body lotion and delicately perfumed talcum power on the side within Vale
ntina’s reach.
Valentina and Rogan Tennant had announced their intention of marrying only the day before. It would be natural enough if they wanted to be alone. Ellie felt a twinge of unease. She hoped that things had not started to go wrong already.
‘What dress will you be wearing?’ she asked as Valentina stepped into the shower.
‘The white silk, with the gold belt,’ Valentina called from beneath the noise of rushing water.
The Lucien Lelong white silk dress was withdrawn from the wardrobe and a pair of white kid, sling-back shoes from the shoe rack. She was just about to open Valentina’s jewel case for the gold earrings Valentina liked to wear with the dress, when there came a loud rap on the door.
‘That will be Mr Tennant,’ Valentina said, stepping from the shower and donning the towelling bath robe with satin lapels. ‘Let him in, please.’
Ellie opened the door and Rogan stepped inside, his sleek blond hair still glistening with water from his shower, an aura of expensive cologne clinging to him.
‘Goodnight, madam,’ Ellie said, as Valentina moved to the drinks trolley and began to pour Rogan a stiff Scotch.
The door closed behind her and Rogan put his arms around Valentina and kissed her on the nape of her neck.
‘Jesus, baby, what a day. I’ve just had Rakoczi in my dressing room, apologizing for his brainstorm of this morning and begging me not to tell Gambetta.’
Valentina turned and handed him his drink, knowing that he was lying. ‘I won’t, but I didn’t tell the bastard that. I’ll let him suffer for a bit. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d have made him suffer this morning. The hardest thing I ever did was to control my temper and walk away.’
Valentina felt a smile tug at her lips. Rogan hadn’t walked. He had stumbled, and he hadn’t been able to get away from Vidal’s wrath quick enough.
Rogan sat down and drew her on to his knee. ‘Did he give you a real hard time after I left?’
Valentina removed Rogan’s hand from her waist and stood up, crossing the room and sitting on her dressing-table stool.
‘No,’ she said gently, ‘he didn’t, Rogan.’
Rogan looked mystified. ‘He was sure in one hell of a temper when I left. I was out of my mind with worry about you all morning.’
Valentina dropped her eyes from his. If he had been at all worried he would have stayed. It made what she was about to say all the easier.
‘Rogan, I want to talk to you. Not about this morning. About yesterday.’
Remembering the debacle of the previous evening, Rogan felt an uncomfortable flush stain his cheeks. He forced a laugh and swallowed his drink.
‘Sorry if I disappointed you, angel. Too many belts of celebration whisky and too much champagne.’ He moved across to her meaningfully. ‘It won’t happen tonight, I promise you.’
‘Nothing will happen tonight, Rogan,’ Valentina said firmly, catching his hand as he reached out intending to slip it beneath the wrap-over of her robe. ‘I made a mistake yesterday in saying that I would marry you. It wouldn’t work. I would make you terribly unhappy.’
Rogan paused, wondering if he was hearing right.
‘I’m sorry, and it was sweet of you to ask me,’ she continued, wishing that he would say something instead of looking so perplexed.
‘Who told you that you’d be messing up my life if you married me?’ Rogan said at length. ‘Was it Romana? Honey, that woman is pure poison. There’s no need to listen to a word she says.’
Valentina hadn’t known that Rogan had been romantically involved with Romana de Santa. The knowledge interested her, but did not disturb her.
‘It wasn’t Romana, Rogan. Yesterday was a mistake and I’m sorry.’
‘Then who the hell was it?’ Rogan demanded irritably, pulling himself free of her restraining hold.
‘It wasn’t anyone, Rogan.’
‘It must have been someone,’ he said explosively, striding across to the drinks trolley and pouring himself another Scotch. ‘Hell, you wouldn’t be playing the martyr unless someone had told you that if you loved me you’d set me free!’
Valentina regarded him with a mixture of affection and exasperation.
‘No one has told me that I’d be ruining your life if I married you, Rogan,’ she said firmly. ‘That’s a conclusion I came to all by myself.’
Rogan drained his glass and put it down. It had been an unpleasant day and he could have done without Valentina’s sudden feelings of inferiority.
‘Look, honey,’ he said patiently, ‘I know that I’m a big star and you’re just starting out in this town. Sure, some people will talk and say that any future parts you get will be because you’re my wife. It isn’t going to bother me, so why let it bother you?’
Valentina sighed. ‘I’m not going to marry you, Rogan, because I don’t want to.’
Rogan stared at her as if she were out of her mind. She rose to her feet, wishing that he hadn’t made it necessary for her to be so blunt. ‘I don’t love you, Rogan. I never have. I’ve been very, very fond of you, and I thought that I could learn to love you, but now I know that I was wrong.’
‘You’re crazy!’ His voice had lost its conviction and his handsome face had paled. ‘Has Rakoczi been on to you? Has he told you it’s against your contract to marry?’
‘The decision is mine,’ she repeated, wondering what it would take to make Rogan believe her.
He stared at her. No one jilted Rogan Tennant. It was unheard of. ‘We told the whole Goddamned unit,’ he said, his voice rising. ‘It’ll be in the trades today! Louella will have got hold of it! The whole town will have heard of it!’
‘Then you must tell Louella that it was a stunt dreamed up by the publicity department and that you felt you couldn’t go along with it any longer.’
‘Too bloody right I’ll tell her it was a stunt,’ Rogan said whitefaced, ‘but what about the cast and the crew? They know it was no fucking stunt!’
‘I’ll tell Sutton and Leila that you changed your mind,’ Valentina said, feeling sorry for him. ‘I’ll tell them that you no longer wish to marry me. They’ll soon spread the word.’
‘You’d better tell them Goddamned quick!’ Rogan said, his voice tight with rage and humiliation. ‘I’m not stepping out of here till you put the record straight and tell people the truth!’
‘The truth being that you no longer wish to marry me,’ Valentina said soothingly.
‘Too damned right, I don’t!’
Valentina suppressed a smile, picked up the telephone receiver and dialled Sutton’s home number.
‘Sutton, is that you?’ Her voice held an underlying tremble, as if she were suppressing an onrush of tears. ‘Sutton, the most hideous thing has happened. Rogan has walked out on me. He doesn’t want to marry me. Doesn’t want to see me any more.’
Rogan was mercifully too far away to hear Sutton sympathetically tell her that she was well rid of him. Next she rang Leila and listened dutifully as Leila sympathized effusively.
At last she replaced the receiver on its cradle. ‘Everyone will know by tomorrow morning,’ she said, turning towards a glowering Rogan.
‘They’d better!’ He seized hold of the door handle and paused. ‘I’m sorry about this, Valentina,’ he said with stiff formality, ‘but it just wouldn’t have worked.’
Valentina’s eyes widened and then, as the door closed behind him, a deep smile curved her lips. Rogan was already beginning to believe that the version of events she had told Leila and Sutton was the truth. By tomorrow he would have forgotten entirely that it was she who had jilted him.
She removed her bathrobe and began to dress. Vidal would be in his office waiting for her. She slipped her feet into her shoes, slammed the door behind her, and began to run towards the ochre-tiled bungalow and the man she loved with all her heart.
He was sitting behind his desk, a score of sketches for the St Albans location spread in front of him. He raised his head as she entered and at the expression in his
eyes her breath caught in her throat.
‘Come here,’ he said, his dark, rich voice sending shivers down her spine. ‘I’ve waited eight hours to make love to you, and I’m not going to wait a minute longer!’
He rose to his feet and moved from behind his desk, pulling her into his arms, seeking her mouth and lowering her gently to the thickly carpeted floor.
Chapter Fourteen
Valentina stretched luxuriously against the lace-edged, satin pillows as Ellie entered with her breakfast tray.
‘News of tonight’s première is splashed across the front page of both The Examiner and The Times,’ Ellie said, handing her the tabloids before setting the breakfast tray down.
Valentina motioned it away. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, I couldn’t possibly eat this morning. I’m too excited. I’ll just have coffee.’
Ellie looked at her disapprovingly but knew better than to waste time arguing. She poured Valentina a strong black coffee and crossed to the vast wall of mirror-faced wardrobes as Valentina eagerly began to scan the headlines.
Gambetta’s million dollar epic to be premièred tonight at Grauman’s!, Louella’s headline ran. Valentina, the star set to tumble Garbo and Swanson from their thrones, must be a very nervous lady today.
‘Too damned right,’ Valentina said, shaking open The Los Angeles Times and reading:
The Warrior Queen to conquer Hollywood tonight … and she took a sip of her coffee … The elite of the moine world will tonight judge whether Theodore Gambetta’s million dollar gamble has paid off. Those in the know are already claiming that the volatile, Hungarian director, Vidal Rakoczi, has produced a masterpiece.
An inside column was headed: Valentina: The face of the century.
Valentina surveyed the accompanying photograph and then pushed the papers away. It wasn’t what they said today that mattered. It was what they would say tomorrow.
The telephone rang, and she leapt for it, knowing that it would be Vidal.
‘Oh, darling, I’m so nervous I can hardly breathe.’
Silver Shadows, Golden Dreams Page 18