‘Relax,’ Vidal said, a smile in his voice. ‘Tonight is going to be the biggest night of your life.’
‘What if they don’t like it? What if…’
‘Go down to the beach. Swim. Play tennis. Get rid of some of your nervous energy or you’ll be in a state of collapse by tonight. I’ll see you later.’
‘But you are coming for me, aren’t you?’ she asked anxiously. ‘We are still going to the theatre together?’
For a year they had managed the impossible. They had managed to keep their affaire untalked about in the most gossip-hungry town in the world. To arrive publicly, arm-in-arm, before a battery of cameras and microphones would be to invite the sort of speculation they had so far avoided. Kariana, with dark, subconscious memories of the last première she had attended, had no desire to meet Theodore Gambetta in the same scarlet carpeted foyer.
‘Yes,’ he said gently, wondering how much longer they could maintain the delicate balancing act of the last few months. ‘We’re going together, Valentina.’
‘I love you,’ she said fervently. ‘Oh God, why can’t we spend the day together? Tonight is a lifetime away.’
‘I’m lunching with Theo. He has some damn fool idea of loaning you out to MGM simply because Mayer has offered an obscene amount for you. If he once starts to play those games, you could find yourself in all sorts of second-rate movies.’
‘But why does he want to loan me out?’ Valentina gasped, her hand tightening on the receiver. ‘I thought he was over the moon about The Gethsamene Gate, and A Woman in Scarlet is going without a hitch.’
‘The Gethsamene Gate won’t be released for another six months and I’ve vetoed all his proposals for what he wants to follow A Woman in Scarlet. He’s just trying to put the screws on. Don’t panic. I have a screenplay here that’s perfect for you. When Theo sees it he’ll realize you’re more valuable working at Worldwide than being loaned across town.’
Theo was immediately forgotten. ‘What is it? Is it a costume drama? Is it a strong part?’
‘It’s a comedy,’ Vidal said, grinning as he heard her gasp of dismay. ‘Don’t worry. You can handle it. You have the lightest touch I’ve ever seen and it will do you good to diversify.’
‘Theo will never buy it,’ she said despairingly. ‘He sees me as a femme fatale, not as a comedienne.’
‘You’re an actress,’ Vidal said bluntly. ‘You can be anything you want to be.’
‘I want to be with you.’
‘You will be, in a few hours’time.’
‘I want to be with you all the time.’ Her voice was low, filled with sudden sadness. What she was really saying was that she wanted to be his wife.
‘I love you,’ he said, knowing that he couldn’t ask her the question she was longing to hear. ‘Be prepared for a crush tonight. The world and his brother are going to be there and it’s you that they’ll want to see.’
She put down the receiver slowly. There had been a time when she had firmly believed that she would never ask any more of him than he was prepared to give. But now, as their love for each other had matured and deepened, it seemed increasingly incongruous that he still remained married to someone else. A woman he no longer loved; a woman who shared none of his passion for his work. A woman he never voluntarily mentioned.
She began to dress. She was having lunch with Leila at The Beverly Hills Hotel which she had long since vacated. Her home was now a long, low, ranch house some distance from the fashionable cluster of Hollywood mansions. She liked her privacy. She had no desire to be part of the close-knit clique that met at the never-ending round of parties and dinners. And the remoteness of her home enabled her to see Vidal with comparative ease.
The Beverly Hills had been the wrong venue for lunch on a day when everyone was talking about her public debut on the screen. They had left early and Leila, nearly as nervous as Valentina about the forthcoming event, had been only too happy to drive with her out along the coast road and to sit on a deserted stretch of shoreline.
‘Have you any idea of what is the matter with Mrs Rakoczi, Leila?’ she asked, hugging her knees and watching the huge breakers crash into surging foam.
Leila shrugged. ‘Nothing that I know of,’ she said, picking up a pebble and spinning it out over the waves.
Valentina frowned. ‘She’s sick, Leila. She’s been sick for a long time. That’s why she spends so much time away from Hollywood.’
‘It could be tuberculosis,’ Leila said reflectively. ‘That’s the only disease I know of that requires people to spend a lot of time in places like Switzerland. That’s where Mrs Rakoczi vacations, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I think so. I’m not sure.’ Valentina scooped up a handful of sand and let it sift through her fingers, her eyes thoughtful. If Kariana suffered from tuberculosis, that could well explain Vidal’s reluctance to speak about her illness. Yet tuberculosis could be cured. And when Kariana was cured, there could be a divorce and the secrecy and discretion that they had to live with would be over. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that Leila was right. Tuberculosis was still regarded by many people as a shameful disease, and if Kariana had received treatment in the dry mountain air near her home then it would soon have become public knowledge. Switzerland would ensure her the best doctors in the world and complete privacy.
Leila regarded her with concern. Since the shooting of The Warrior Queen had ended she had remained good friends with Valentina and was the only person to know that Valentina and Vidal were lovers and not just director and protégé.
‘Does Vidal intend filing for divorce?’ she asked tentatively.
Valentina’s arms tightened around her knees. ‘No.’
Leila bit her bottom lip, aware of problems of which Valentina so far seemed oblivious.
‘It can’t go on,’ she said quietly. ‘Adultery may be rife in this town, but only so long as the public doesn’t get to hear of it. If they do, it’s finito to any career. Even a career as prestigious as Vidal’s.’
Valentina felt a prickle of alarm. If loving Vidal meant sacrificing her career then she had no qualms. Vidal came first. It had not occurred to her that Vidal’s career, too, might be destroyed if news of their love for one another became public.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said sharply. ‘People change partners in Hollywood constantly.’
‘Yes, darling, but they tend to do it legally. They divorce and remarry.’
‘And then divorce and remarry again. Vidal and I aren’t like that. We’re not going to change our minds about each other in a year’s time. We’re going to be together for always.’
‘Not if you’re not married, you’re not,’ Leila said drily. ‘Not in Hollywood.’
Leila’s words troubled Valentina for the rest of the day. As she dressed for the première, she knew that what Leila had said was true. It had not taken her long to discover the hypocrisy of the new world which she had entered. Anything went. Drugs, alcoholism, adultery, promiscuity. Every vice under the sun was happily indulged in, and condoned, just so long as news of it didn’t reach the vast Bible Belt women’s clubs of America via the gossip writers and the press. A damning paragraph in print could ruin a star overnight. She surveyed herself in her dressing-table mirror. Her hair curved onto her cheekbones, dark and sleek. Her silver lamé gown clung sensuously, very décolleté, the back plunging to her waist. Tonight was not the time for dark thoughts. Tonight would be the most important night of her life.
Vidal’s white tie and tails failed to turn him into an archetypal socialite. He stood in the doorway, a tall, dark man with powerful shoulders and the lean grace of a jungle cat.
Valentina broke away from Ellie, her zip only half done up, and ran towards him. ‘You look marvellous, Vidal! Just like an aristocrat in one of Cecil B de Mille’s movies!’
He caught hold of her and held her against him tightly, ‘I am an aristocrat,’ he said drily. ‘If I wanted, I could put a string of legitimate titles befor
e my name.’
She remembered his cigarette case and the diamond within the engraved crest. ‘Then why don’t you?’ she asked curiously. ‘Americans love titles.’
‘Because I left that part of my life behind a long time ago and I have no desire to drag the remnants of it into the present.’
She slid her arms around him. He constantly surprised her. There were times when she wondered if she would ever know everything about him.
‘I don’t care if you’re a prince or a peasant. I love you just the same,’ she said, her face alight with the love she felt for him.
‘Then perhaps Ellie wouldn’t mind leaving us in privacy for a few moments.’
‘But I’m not ready!’ she protested, horrified. ‘My hair isn’t done. I haven’t even finished dressing.’
‘It’s very important,’ he said gravely.
She was seized with panic. Did Theo still want her to go to MGM?
Vidal raised an eyebrow slightly in Ellie’s direction and she hastily left the room, closing the door behind her.
‘Doesn’t Theo like the idea of me doing comedy? Is he unhappy with the work I’m doing on A Woman in Scarlet …?’
‘Yes, to the first question, no to the second, and yes to the third,’ Vidal said, his voice thickening as he slid her zip down to the base of her spine and kissed the curve of her jaw.
‘Then what was so important that you asked Ellie to leave?’ she asked in bewilderment.
His lips brushed her ear, moving purposefully to her mouth as he slid the straps of her gown off her shoulders, and the lamé slithered into a silver pool around her ankles.
‘Vidal! No! We haven’t time! I’m late already and we’re due at the theatre in twenty minutes. People are waiting for us!’ she protested as his intentions became transparently clear.
‘Let them wait,’ he said in hungry, hoarse tones that sent desire leaping through her veins, so that her need for him was as primitive as his for her. Theo, the star-studded audience arriving at Grauman’s, the throng outside – were all forgotten.
Within minutes he was as naked as she was and while the mob of fans around the theatre shrieked and screamed, as Sutton and Leila arrived and Rogan Tennant descended from his leopard-skin upholstered Lancia, the star of the movie and its director made ferocious, savage love, uncaring of time, oblivious of anything and everything but each other.
‘My goodness!’ Valentina said, her hand clasped tightly in Vidal’s as their Rolls edged towards the theatre. ‘Is it always like this for a première?’
Shouting, cheering fans jostled the car, cramming the street for blocks in every direction.
‘No, thank God. We have Theo’s publicity machine to thank for this bear-garden.’
A motor cycle cop drew up at the side of the Rolls and Vidal lowered the window. The sound from outside was deafening.
‘I’m sorry, sir. There’s no way we can clear the street for the car to continue. I’m afraid we’ll have to escort you on foot.’
‘Through that crowd?’ Valentina asked, her face paling.
Vidal’s eyes were grim. ‘He’s right, Valentina. If this car moves another inch, it’s going to mow someone down. Stay close to me and don’t let go of my hand. Not for a second.’
The police surrounded them as they stepped out of the Rolls. A great cheer went up and as they inched tortuously towards the theatre’s entrance there were chants of ‘Val-en-tina! Val-en-tina!’
‘This,’ Vidal shouted to her over the din, ‘is stardom!’
Valentina gasped, stumbling against him as the crowd jostled the encircling policemen. ‘They haven’t seen me on screen yet!’
‘They don’t need to with all the brouhaha there’s been about you. Don’t look so frightened. Smile, even if the effort nearly kills you.’
The incessant clicking of flashbulbs, some only inches away from her face, was blinding. Barricades had been erected in front of the theatre but hysterical fans surged against them so that Valentina expected that any moment they would give way and she would be crushed underfoot. Hands from every direction reached out to touch her.
The only way she could cope with her rising panic was to pretend none of it was real. That it was a scene from a film. She blew kisses, she smiled, and the crowd went wild. The chants of ‘Valentina’ could still be heard as they entered the lobby.
Theo and a troop of ushers rushed towards them.
‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’ Theo demanded ecstatically. ‘We’re in the process of making Hollywood history! Tonight’s a night that won’t be repeated for a hundred years!’
Vidal, accustomed to Theo’s extravagant superlatives, merely nodded, eager to escort Valentina away from the still blinding flashlights and towards the main aisle door.
‘Let’s move, Theo. Valentina isn’t accustomed to all this ballyhoo.’
‘This ballyhoo is making her the most talked about star of the decade,’ Theo said, encircling Valentina’s naked shoulders with his arm for the benefit of the cameras. ‘She’s a natural. Just listen to them! They love her!’
‘They don’t know a thing about me,’ Valentina protested with a smile as Theo blew wreaths of blue cigar smoke upwards.
‘And that’s the way to keep it,’ Theo said, turning away from the cameras and reporters at last and moving towards the dark inner lobby. ‘Once they know anything resembling truth they lose interest. Fantasy is what they want. Fantasy on screen and fantasy in their stars’private lives. Feed them plenty of fantasy, my dear, and you’ll never go far wrong.’
With her arm lightly through the crook of Vidal’s arm she entered the auditorium. There were faces she had seen only in movie magazines. Joan Crawford looking devastating in a high-necked black sequined gown, the expression on her face cynical. Bette Davis in scarlet silk, a white rose at her throat, a smile on her lips as their eyes met fleetingly. Clark Gable and Carole Lombard. Marian Davies and William Randolph Hearst. Irving Thalberg, production chief of MGM, cheek by jowl with his boss, Louis B Mayer.
Dazedly she accompanied Vidal to the place of honour and then the lights dimmed and her fingers closed tightly around Vidal’s. This was it. Her whole professional future lay in the reception of her performance by the movie stars and moguls in the audience. She couldn’t bear to look at the screen. She kept her eyes tightly shut and prayed.
It seemed to take forever. At last she heard her final lines. A swift sword slash had ended the life of her seventeen-year-old son at the bloody battle of Tewkesbury. Her husband had been murdered on the orders of the usurper of the throne, Edward. All she had fought for so valiantly and courageously was lost. And yet, as she sat on the prow of the boat taking her back to France and to exile, there was still something indomitable about her. Her inner spirit was unquenched. The white cliffs of Dover faded into the distance and she whispered a last goodbye to the land she had loved; to her dead husband and child.
There was a long silence and then the lights went up and there were tears in the eyes of the audience.
‘They don’t like it,’ she whispered frantically to Vidal. ‘They don’t like it!’ And then the cheering began and she thought she would faint with relief.
People were standing, clapping thunderously. The aisles were jammed with people. Flowers began to fly through the air in her direction. Corsages of orchids, button-holes of carnations and roses, sprays of gardenias.
Theo climbed up on to the stage and made a speech that could be barely heard above the din of applause. Then he was gesturing for Vidal and Valentina and Rogan. The whole theatre was a blaze of light. She was deluged with flowers, laughing and crying at the same time.
‘It’s a triumph!’ Theo kept saying, tears of emotion in his eyes. ‘A triumph!’
There was no way they could leave by the front entrance. The head usher led them through the orchestra pit and backstage, the roar of those who had come to criticise and deride loud in their ears.
She sank back into the rear of the Rolls
, exhausted.
‘Happy?’ Vidal asked, as they sped through the darkened streets to her home.
‘I’m speechless. I never expected anything like that. It was amazing. Unbelievable.’
‘It was a tribute to your talent,’ Vidal said as she leant her head against his shoulder. ‘Every star in town was there tonight thanks to Theo’s publicity machine. Every director, every president of every movie company of any account. And they came to see you fall flat on your face. That’s the kind of town Hollywood is. It can also be breathtakingly generous with praise when it’s deserved.’
‘Do you think The Gethsemane Gate will be just as popular? It’s such a different movie. Perhaps people will expect The Warrior Queen to be followed by another costume drama, not a story set in World War I.’
‘Every movie is a risk. That’s what makes the business so exciting. I’ve no desire to make safe, uncontroversial pictures that don’t stretch me creatively.’
‘And I’ve no desire to star in them,’ she said, sliding her arms around his waist, holding him close. ‘Do you think Theo will still want to loan me out to MGM?’
Vidal grinned down at her. ‘Not now, my love. Mayer couldn’t affords Theo’s price!’
A Woman in Scarlet was completed and Vidal’s comedy, The Heiress Helena was already well under way when Valentina began to feel sick.
The Warrior Queen and The Gethsemane Gate were being seen by packed houses all over the country. She had become the star that Theo had promised she would be. She had a luxurious house, a fabulous wardrobe, the adulation of millions and the love of Vidal. Her cup was full and overflowing and she lived each moment with a joy that was contagious.
When she had first begun to vomit in the morning, Ellie had eyed her anxiously.
‘Are you sure you’re not overworking? You haven’t taken any time off between pictures. What you need is a holiday.’
‘I love working, Ellie. I’m fine. It’s probably the quenelles of lobster I ate last night at La Golondrina. I’ll be okay in an hour or two.’
She was. But the next day the same thing happened again. And the next.
Silver Shadows, Golden Dreams Page 19