by PETER DAVEY
“But... this Ted, he’s some kind of weirdo who lives in a caravan miles from anywhere, isn’t he? How did you even know someone like that?”
“He’s not a weirdo – far from it – and he didn’t always live in a caravan. I met him at this pub where I worked down in Wemborne where my mum lives, and we kind of became soul-mates. United against the common enemy, I guess. He emailed me his novel to get my opinion and I thought it was brilliant, although I didn’t like the title. I’d moved to London by then to try and launch my career but I was getting nowhere. I was penniless, dossing with friends...”
“So, what happened exactly?”
“He got the use of this flat in Richmond and he invited me there. I was upset about something – I can’t remember what now – and he came into my room to comfort me and then suggested this crazy plan. At first I thought he was just trying to cheer me up. ‘I don’t ever want to publish “Tyranny” under my own name,’ he said. ‘There’s too much wrong with it’ – which I thought was crap, by the way. ‘But, if you like it so much,’ he said, ‘why don’t you publish it under your name?’”
“And how did you react?”
“I thought he was joking. When I realised he wasn’t, I said ‘I can’t do that! That’s your novel. I can’t take the credit for something I haven’t done!' But he pointed out that it was just going to sit in a bottom drawer for all eternity so somebody may as well get the credit for it.”
Dominic was slowly shaking his head. “Jesus.”
“It was even he who suggested I change my name, just to throw people off the scent. That's how I became Nicola Carson. Not that I minded. I hated the name Pearson anyway.”
“So he talked you round?”
“In the end. Like I said, I thought it was crazy at first, but when I thought about it, I realised that maybe, just maybe, it could work – I was that desperate at the time. And by a stroke of good fortune I’d met this really famous author called Tom Newcomb...”
“I remember. He helped you launch the book, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he was in his seventies by then but he still couldn’t keep his hands off me, and I guess I kind of took advantage of him. I showed him my – in inverted commas – novel and asked him if he could recommend an agent. That’s how I came to meet Miranda – Miranda Cole. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“So did Tom Newcomb ever call in the favour?”
“Oh yeah, big time! I’m afraid it all ended rather messily.”
Dominic sank into thought. And as he thought, the mists cleared. All of a sudden Ted’s bizarre, defensive behaviour when he first met him in The Queen’s Head was explained. He'd known about it all along, he'd had it planned all along, using his first novel which he had decided was dispensable. 'I never liked that book,' he remembered him saying. 'It just didn't work for some reason, but I could never quite put my finger on why.' But when the novel proved a roaring success, and especially when it won the Connaught Prize, he found he was not so idealistic after all and did want to take the credit for it. And it was he, Dominic, who had offered him that opportunity. That was why, when he first imparted his information, Ted had scrutinised him for hours without uttering a word. He had been weighing up in his mind something which had never occurred to him until that moment – the possibility of getting back at Nicola by claiming that she – as this stranger clearly assumed – had simply stolen his manuscript. If he believed it, why shouldn’t everyone else believe it? She was already a celebrity and the scandal would turn him into a celebrity himself and establish his reputation overnight. And, of course, Nicola couldn’t say what had really happened without admitting she wasn't the real author – something he had reckoned she would never ever do. But when the court case got going and the likes of Anne and Tom Newcomb started baying for Nicola’s blood, he had lost his nerve. He knew she was volatile, unpredictable, emotionally unstable. Supposing she cracked under the pressure and did come out with what had really happened? His new-found fame would turn him into a laughing stock. And if the case had come to court he would have committed perjury. That was why he had withdrawn the lawsuit at precisely the moment she had proved herself – at the BAFTAs – to be teetering on the brink of a breakdown.
“Bastard!” he murmured under his breath.
“I don’t blame him. I treated him like shit. I’ve never ever stopped feeling guilty about it.”
“In what way did you treat him like shit?”
“I betrayed our friendship. He was good to me, Ted. He believed in me when nobody else did. He could see that underneath that potty-mouthed, chain-smoking, bolshy bitch there was someone with a bit of talent who wanted to make something of their life. His plan was to help me as much as to help himself.”
“So how did you betray your friendship?”
“I forgot about him. Once I was out there in the fast lane I completely forgot about him – the one person in the world who’d ever helped me. But I wasn’t just being a self-centred little airhead – I wanted to forget him, I wanted to forget he was the person to whom I owed everything. I wanted to kid myself that ‘Loss’ had nothing to do with my success, that it was all just down to my amazing acting talent. We agreed after it all went tits-up at Richmond to keep contact between us to a minimum but I don’t think he expected me to take it that literally. I never sent him his share of the advance or the royalties for a start, nor his share of the Connaught prize money. And when my conscience got the better of me I told Alison, my PA, to start sending him wads of cash in jiffy bags – money I never even noticed, I had so much by then. I made out to her I was taking care of an old friend who wanted the money in cash to avoid tax. But then Alison told me he’d been trying to contact me and wanted to see me.
“I said yes at first, but then I bottled out. I just couldn’t face him after the way I’d treated him. And I knew he was going to ask me to pull strings to get his other novels published, but fame had made me even more paranoid. I was sure ‘Summers’ would be similar to ‘Loss’ and I was terrified that if I started telling the world how great this unknown author was, someone might take another look at ‘Loss’ and put two and two together.”
“So when was this?”
“I don’t know. Around last October, I guess.”
Last October. And – Dominic was willing to bet – sandwiched between his first visit to The Queen’s Head and Ted phoning him to say he’d had a change of heart.
“Couldn’t you have had a word in your agent's ear?”
“I'd fallen out with Miranda by then.”
“Why was that?”
She sighed. “Miranda wasn't just my agent – we were really fond of each other. Really close. I even lived with her for a while. But she became possessive. And then the relationship started going places I didn’t really want to go, so I left. She came after me to try and persuade me to come back and we ended up having a row.”
“Right.”
“So you see the sort of person you’re dealing with, Dominic?” she laughed grimly, “one fucked-up relationship after another. Anyway, I got Alison to phone Ted and tell him I was too busy to see him. He must have been furious – understandably – because he asked her to give me a message: ‘Tell her to take another look at the Hal Birling interview on the South Bank Show.’”
“What was that about?”
“The South Bank Show did a feature on Hal and his work. He was asked why he cast someone with almost no film experience in the lead of ‘All about Me’ when there were so many brilliant actresses around. He said it was the book. ‘I knew Nicola was a writer as well as an actress,’ he said, ‘and when I read her novel I knew she’d be perfect for Amy. Actresses only act,’ he said, ‘whereas she’d bring a dimension of honesty to the role, since those were her own experiences she was writing about.’ Ironic, eh? I was completely fucked at the time anyway. I’d just broken up with Tony – Tony Basarro – who I was going to marry.”
“I remember reading about it.”
�
�So you’ll also remember I called it off at the last minute.”
“Yes. But I never knew why.”
“Oh come on, Dominic! How can you love someone, have kids with them, commit your whole life to them when that life just feels like one big lie? Can you imagine it? ‘Darling, Mummy didn’t really write that famous book everyone talks about. She was just pretending. But we mustn’t tell anyone – it can be our little secret, okay?’ Or do I just lie to my husband and kids as well, and spend my whole life in terror in case they find out? And yet I knew that if I told him the truth he would always despise and distrust me, even if he stayed with me, which he probably wouldn’t. And that wasn’t the only relationship that ended that way.”
Dominic slid his arm over his tummy and took her hand. “Nicola...”
“It was my fault. I was a fool.”
“No you weren’t. You were a victim.”
“I was a fool. I wanted a short cut.”
He tightened his arm around her. Somewhere, far out across the city, a siren was wailing.
“So what happened?” he murmured, “after Ted delivered his little barb?”
“I tried to ignore it. But I couldn’t. It worked on me like a worm inside an apple. I’d always known, in my heart of hearts, that there were loads of actresses who could’ve done Amy just as well as me – probably better. And I knew then that was how it was always going to be. However great a success I made of my career, it was a career that probably never would have happened without ‘Loss’, and in years to come people would still look back and say it was the best thing I’d ever done. There’d be no escape. And I’d never have the satisfaction of knowing that I’d achieved my success through my own talents, by my own determination. Acting was all I had, Dominic. I’d got no family I cared about, no loved ones, nothing. Acting was the one pure and decent thing in my life, the one thing I trusted, the one thing that gave me self-respect and made me feel like a human being. And I felt it’d been contaminated, like I’d somehow cheated.”
“That’s bullshit! You were brilliant in ‘All about Me’. Totally brilliant! You won a BAFTA and an Oscar for your acting – your acting not your writing. That book was a lucky break, that’s all, something to kick-start your career. Nearly all famous actors can trace their careers back to some lucky break.”
“It wasn’t a lucky break. It was a crime.”
“It wasn’t a crime!” Dominic snorted.
“Of course it was! We defrauded the publisher, the Connaught people, the reading public. And it turned me dishonestly into a star so my film career was a no-brainer after that.”
Dominic sighed with exasperation. “Nicola, you're just not getting it, are you? You say that book made you famous. It was you who made the book famous. I remember all the publicity when 'Loss' came out. Your face was all over the Sunday supplements, you were the star of all the review programmes, you had the crustiest old critics eating out of your hand. It was you they were raving about, not the book. People just bought it because you’d written it and you were the hottest thing around at the time. You weren’t cheating, you were doing what you do – acting. That was a role you pulled off and you pulled it off brilliantly. Trust me, I'm a publisher. I know how these things work.”
“It's really sweet of you to say that. But you're talking crap and you know it.”
He squeezed her hand again.
“I need to put things right, Dominic. I need to put things right with Ted. I want to feel good about myself again, and then maybe start over. And I can’t wait for our book to come out, I need to do it now.” She turned her head and looked him straight in the eye. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. But you can’t just come out and confess it cold. People need to know the context – about your childhood, about your father walking out on you, about your breakdown. They need to know exactly what happened and then they’ll understand.”
“Yeah, but I can’t say exactly what happened, can I?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’ll expose Ted as a liar. People knew he was accusing me of plagiarism. They may not have taken it seriously at the time, but they will if I tell the truth. He’ll be a joke. And that’s the opposite of what I want.”
“It’s no more than he deserves,” Dominic mumbled.
“No it's not. He doesn’t deserve that.”
“Nicola, this is a man who was prepared to lie in court to destroy you! What does that say about your friendship?”
“It wasn’t him who brought that lawsuit. His name may’ve been on it but he’d never have done that to me. People influenced him – his wife, mainly. She’s a lawyer. And she hated me. She’d got it into her head that I’d had an affair with him. He was the one who withdrew the case.”
“Nicola, don’t you think you’re being a bit too kind to this Edward Haymer? He probably withdrew the suit because he knew he couldn’t win.”
“No he didn’t!” she retorted. “That wasn’t why he withdrew it!”
Dominic was silenced for a few moments.
“So his wife thought you’d had an affair with him?”
“Yeah, but it was all in her twisted imagination.”
“So you didn't have an affair with him?”
“No. I didn't.”
Dominic laid his head back on the pillow and resumed caressing her arm. For some reason he was delighted by what he had just heard.
“So what are you proposing we do?” he asked.
“We make out the truth is what you assumed – that I stole the manuscript.”
“But we can’t do that!”
“It’s the only way. I’m finished, Dominic. If I can just give Ted the chance to be a successful author, like he’s always wanted, I’d feel my life hasn’t been completely wasted.”
“Nicola, for Christ’s sake, you’re twenty-eight! You’re a brilliant actress! You’re beautiful! You’ve got your whole life ahead of you!”
“Dominic, get real! My entire career was built on a novel that became a best seller and won a prestigious prize. A novel I didn’t write. That not only makes me a fake, a liar and the saddest creature on the planet but a criminal as well! You think the world is ever going to let me forget that?”
He relapsed into thought. “There’s got to be another way. Look, maybe I can pull some strings to get his novel published, if that’s all he really cares about. I’ve got contacts in the business – an old mate of mine, Darren, is now an agent with Coleridge Brown. If I can pull that off then you and Ted will be quits.”
“It’s too late. Things have changed. I’ve changed. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life pursuing a career that’s built on a lie. I’ve made up my mind what I’m going to do – I’ve just been waiting for someone I trust to help me do it. And now I’ve found you.”
Dominic considered her words. “What makes you so sure I’m going to help you?”
“Because you said you’d never let me down.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to let you down. But I’m also not going to help you destroy yourself.”
“All right. Then maybe I’ll just find the courage to do it on my own after all.”
Dominic heaved a sigh. “Okay. Let’s say I do agree to help you, what have you got planned for afterwards? After the press has torn you limb from limb and your publisher and the Connaught people have sued the pants off you and all the agents and producers on both sides of the Atlantic have blacklisted you and every stand-up comic in the land has got tired of making millions of people laugh their heads off at your expense? What are you going to do then? Assuming you’re not in prison?”
“I’m going to kill myself.”
“Nicola, don’t even joke about something like that.”
“Relax! I’m an actress! I’m going to pretend to kill myself.”
“Don’t joke about that either.”
“I’m not joking. I’ve got it all figured out. And it’ll be easy since it’s common knowledge I’m suicidal. T
hey can tear Nicola Carson to shreds all they want but she won’t be around to give them the satisfaction. She’ll have topped herself. And she’ll have had a funeral – people in smart black coats and hats will have said all kinds of nice shit about her and she’ll be peacefully stashed away in some country churchyard. I quite fancy Snotsham actually – that’d be a laugh, wouldn’t it? In the shade of some ancient yew with weeds growing out of me. And my mum can come and arrange flowers on my grave – she’d be really good at that. She might even shed a little tear while secretly thinking what a relief it is not to have to be bothered with me any more.”
“Nicola, for Christ’s sake!”
“All it’ll take is a few hefty backhanders and luckily I’ve still got plenty of cash. Then I’ll sneak off to Australia or Canada or somewhere – change my name, change my look, change my identity and start afresh, right from scratch. I’m good at that – changing my identity. And then maybe I’ll become famous all over again – only honestly this time.”
Dominic was listening to her in rising alarm. He was beginning to wonder if she was really making as good a recovery as he had thought.
“You really think that’s going to work? Everyone’ll recognise you for a start!”
“No they won’t. I was once told I’ve got one of those faces that’s put together so perfectly it’s got no distinctiveness or individuality – which means I can be made to look like anything I want – like one of those dummies in Harrods.”
“That’s bollocks! Your face is totally individual!”
“It’ll work, Dominic! I know it will! I was planning it all the time I was in that nuthouse. And then you turned up like a gift from God and I knew at once you’d be the one to help me make it happen. And you’re coming with me! We’re going to disappear together!”