by Seb Spence
“Yes, I understand,” she replied enthusiastically.
“Excellent. Now, you need to see Miss Wilks about your costume.”
#
Elliott took her to a small room a few doors down the corridor. Miss Wilks was waiting inside. A changing screen had been set up in a corner and hanging on it was a coathanger with a very smart dark blue dress patterned with small white flowers. “Miss Wilks here will fit you up with your costume. I’ll pop back and collect you in five minutes, and then we’ll all set off for the location.”
Miss Wilks pressed her lips into a smile. “I’m pleased you got the part, Lucy. This must be very exciting for you.”
Lucy felt that behind the smile and welcoming words there was a coldness. She wondered if the woman was jealous of her: perhaps Miss Wilks herself was a thwarted actress. Anyway, Lucy thought, it didn’t really matter: the woman was just one of the underlings.
“Yes, I’m really looking forward to it,” Lucy responded.
Miss Wilks passed her the hanger with the blue dress. “Now, here is your outfit for this scene. The other items that you will need – shoes, stockings, underwear – are behind the screen. So, if you’d just like to pop round the other side and change. Call out if you need any help. We’ve had to guess your sizes. If something doesn’t fit, we can easily change it.”
Lucy took the dress and went behind the screen. It was a lovely day-dress, cut in the latest style, with ruched cap sleeves and a V-neck. She rubbed the cloth between her thumb and fingers and then examined the stitching. The dress was clearly well made from good quality material and she guessed it was probably expensive. Sewn inside was a label with the words ‘Delisle: Paris’. The underwear was also very classy, made from black silk. A thought occurred to her. “Why do I have to put on this underwear?” she called out over the screen. “I’m not required to take the dress off during the scene, am I?”
“No, certainly not, dear. It’s important that you wear suitable undergarments, otherwise it will spoil the lines of the dress.”
“Oh, I see.” Lucy slipped off her own clothes and put on the new outfit. Everything fitted perfectly, even the shoes, which were dark blue and matched the dress. She came out from behind the screen.
“Turn round and let me see you,” Miss Wilks instructed, and began to fuss over her, pulling here and smoothing there, eventually telling her, “Yes, now you’re ready for the camera.”
“What about make-up?” Lucy enquired.
“No special make-up is required for this scene. The character you’re playing is supposed to look as natural as possible.”
There was a knock at the door and Miss Wilks called out, “Come in, Mr Elliott. I think we’re ready.”
Elliott entered carrying a straw bag with a shoulder strap. He stood in the doorway and looked Lucy up and down. “You look stunning, Lucy – audiences are going to love you.”
“I hope they will.”
“Now, I have here some props that you’ll need. This is the shoulder bag referred to in the script,” he said, bringing it over to a table and emptying its contents on the surface. “Come and have a look.” Lucy went over and inspected the articles, which seemed to comprise all the usual items to be found in a woman’s bag: purse, brush and comb, handkerchief, lipstick …
“Notice that a false bottom has been made in the bag,” he went on, lifting up the wooden base inside. “You will need the stuff in this hidden compartment for a later scene.” One by one, he lifted out a gun, a passport and a wad of bank notes.
Lucy touched the gun nervously. “Don’t worry, its fake – perfectly harmless,” Elliott re-assured her. “The money is fake as well, and the passport – have a look at it.” She opened it up: it had a picture of her, but the details were those of the character she was playing.
“Name – Eleanor Mortimer; profession – actress,” Elliott recited. “A nice touch don’t you think, Lucy?”
“Yes,” she laughed. “Where did you get the picture of me?”
“We took it from your screen-test footage – remember the close-up shot when you were looking directly to camera?”
“Ah, yes, of course.” Lucy studied the photograph. “I’ve never had a passport before. There was no need – the furthest away I’ve been from London is Derby, to visit my uncle.”
“Well, I’m sure if your career takes off, you’ll be travelling a lot,” Elliott said, smiling. After a pause, he appeared to remember something. “Oh, yes, one last thing,” he continued, taking a small green pillbox from a pocket of his jacket and opening it to reveal several translucent amber capsules. “You’ll need one of these – they’re your suicide capsules.”
“What are they for?”
“Dedicated agents often take a poison capsule when they’re captured, so that they don’t reveal anything to the other side during interrogation. Remember, at the end of the scene, your character, Eleanor, bites down on a capsule and dies. You need to put one of these in your mouth before you start the scene and bite through it after the men arrest you. Try one now.”
Lucy took one of the capsules and gingerly put it in her mouth. She bit through it and then grimaced. It was filled with some bitter liquid. “It’s vile!” she exclaimed.
“Don’t worry, it’s quite safe – it’s just vinegar. In reality it would be cyanide. Cyanide has a bitter taste, so I’m told, and this will help you get a realistic expression. Here, spit it out into this,” he said, proffering a waste paper bin. “Miss Wilks will get you a drink of water to wash away the taste.”
“It’s ghastly. Do I have to take it? Can’t I just pretend to bite on something?”
“I’m afraid not, Lucy. Remember Mr DaSilva’s philosophy – everything has to be as realistic as possible. At the instant you bite down on the capsule, the camera is going to be focused on your face, so it is important your expression looks realistic He wants to see a real grimace on your face when you take the pill, not a fake one. I’ll give you another capsule just before the start of the scene.”
#
It took about twenty minutes for them to drive to the place where the scene was to be shot. Lucy was quite disappointed with the car they went in: it was a rather ordinary looking black Hillman Minx. She had expected it would be something a little more luxurious. Elliott drove, with DaSilva next to him in the front. Lucy sat in the back with Miss Wilks. Elliott spoke a few times, but mostly they travelled in silence. The last part of the drive was through grimy, industrial streets. Lucy had no idea where they were, other than that they were still south of the river.
“Where are we?” she asked when the car eventually pulled up.
“Lambeth,” Elliott informed her.
They were parked in a narrow street, lined with tall warehouse buildings on either side. About twenty yards in front of them was a T-junction where a wider street went off to the right. DaSilva got out of the car without saying anything. Lucy watched as he walked along the pavement and turned into the street ahead.
“OK, this is the plan,” Elliott announced, turning round to face her in the back of the car. “The street that Mr DaSilva has just turned into – Grindley Street – is the one where the filming is taking place. He has gone to join the camera crew, so we’ll give him five minutes and then we’ll start, Lucy. Now, it’s important you appreciate that this is not a film set – it’s a real street. You may encounter members of the general public. If something happens that’s not in the script, you’ll need to improvise, but just be as natural as possible. Remember, Mr DaSilva does not want you to be an actress acting out a part: he wants you to be the part. You are this Nazi agent, Eleanor Mortimer. Do what she would do. So, say you drop something, or trip, or some passer-by asks you for the time, just react normally. OK? If there are any bloomers, we can edit them out in the cutting room. We don’t have enough film to do re-takes.”
“Yes, I understand,” Lucy affirmed.
“Right, here’s the script again,” he said, passing her the sheet she’d se
en earlier. “Look over it and make sure you know what you’ve got to do. The scene starts with you turning the corner into Grindley Street. You walk down it for ten paces then cross over to the other side. You’ll see a long, three-storey brick building on that side, with a sign saying ‘Allsopp’s Works’ painted on it. At the end of that building, an eight-foot high wall runs along the pavement – it’s the wall for their goods yard. When you get to the beginning of the wall, start looking down at it at about waist height and count out in your head ten paces. At that point, you should see a diagonal line in white chalk on one of the bricks. That’s the dead-letter box. You look up and down the street and then pull out the brick and remove the package from the recess. Put the package in your straw bag, replace the brick and continue up the street. At some point, a number of men will appear and attempt to arrest you. You struggle with them and then bite down on your capsule. Got it?”
“Yes, I bite on the capsule, make a face – but then what?”
He looked at her silently for a moment before replying: “Then you fall down and die.”
“OK, I think I know what to do. It should be pretty straightforward.”
“Good, Lucy, let’s make a start.” Elliott got out of the car and held her door open for her. “Now remember, this is just a rehearsal. We’ll tell you when we are actually filming. So all you’ve got to do is walk round the corner and do what it says in the script.”
“Right, Mr Elliott”. Lucy took a deep breath and set off. Straightaway, Elliott called her back.
“Wait, Lucy. Aren’t you forgetting something?” He leaned into the back of the car and took out the straw bag.
“Oh yes, of course. Sorry.”
She was about to start off again, when Elliott stopped her a second time.
“And?” he said, holding up the green pillbox.
Reluctantly, Lucy took one of the capsules and put it under her tongue.
“Good girl. Now off you go, and good luck.”
Lucy set off, butterflies in her stomach, and in a matter of seconds was walking down Grindley Street. It was a wide street lined with a variety of utilitarian brick buildings, mainly factories and warehouses. They were old and their bricks had blackened with age. Some of the buildings were unoccupied, judging by the boarded-up windows; others seemed derelict. A short way down the street, Lucy crossed over to the large building with ‘Allsopp’s Works’ painted in faded white lettering on its end wall. The street was completely deserted. About thirty yards beyond the building, a dark blue van was parked with its rear doors facing up the street. She wondered if that was where the hidden camera was.
She was approaching the far end of the works, when she noticed a large grey cat sitting on a ground floor windowsill. It jumped down as she drew near and looked up at her expectantly, stretching and then arching its back. Lucy’s first reaction was to pet it, but she decided she had better not and walked on by. It began to follow her, meowing. They would be watching all this from the van, she thought, or wherever it was they were filming from. “Shoo, shoo,” she whispered down at it several times, but it wouldn’t go away.
Looking up, she suddenly realised that she had passed the start of the goods yard wall. Panic set in. Elliott had said the mark was ten paces from the start. How many paces had she come, she wondered, looking back: five she guessed. She began to examine the wall, while counting out another five paces. She could not see any chalk mark. She went on another couple of paces, but still could find no mark. She turned round and returned to the start of the wall, staring at the bricks at waist height, but none of them was chalked. She turned round again, measured out exactly ten paces, stopped, and went closer to the wall. Still there was no chalk mark visible to her. She looked helplessly back towards the junction and saw Elliott walking down towards her. He must have been watching from the end of the street.
“I can’t find the brick,” she said as he drew near. He walked a few paces beyond where she was standing and stopped.
“Here it is,” he said, pointing to a loose brick marked with a white chalk line.“Whoever measured out the ten paces must have longer strides than you. You didn’t go quite far enough. Not to worry, we can try again.”
Elliott walked her back up to the starting point, and she set off once more round the corner into Grindley Street. Things were going well this time, she felt: there was no cat to distract her, and she found the brick without any problem. She looked up and down the street, as directed in the script, and then started to pull out the brick with her right hand. It was then that things went horribly wrong. The brick seemed to catch on something just as it was almost free; it jerked out of her hand and fell on her left foot. She let out a yelp of pain and, putting her hand on the wall to support herself, kicked off her shoe and raised her foot so that she could massage it. After a while, she slipped on her shoe again and tried to walk, but found she could not put her weight on the foot. It felt as if her toes had been crushed.
The rear doors of the blue van that was parked further down the street opened and DaSilva stepped out and began to walk towards her. Looking past him, Lucy could see the cameraman and sound recordist, Ted and Barry, in the back with a large movie camera on a tripod.
“What’s the problem now, Miss Walker?” DaSilva said as he drew near. He was glaring at her, his good mood having evaporated.
“I’ve hurt my foot. I don’t think I can stand on it.”
At that moment, Elliott pulled up beside them in the Hillman. Together with Miss Wilks, he got out and went over to her. “I saw what happened, Lucy. I guessed you might need to sit down and take the weight off your foot for a while, so I brought the car round.” He helped Lucy to the back seat and then examined her foot, gently manipulating it. “There’s a slight graze across your toes, but I don’t think any serious damage has been done. I think it probably feels worse than it is. Rest up for a while, and we’ll see what it’s like in half an hour.” He looked at his watch. “It’s just after noon. I suggest we stop and have an early lunch, Mr DaSilva. Hopefully, we can continue later on.”
“John, I just don’t think this is working,” DaSilva said, looking angrily at Lucy. “I think we should call it a day.”
“No, its alright Mr DaSilva. Everything is going to be OK, I promise. We’ll all take a break now, and I’m sure Lucy will be feeling better soon. Don’t worry, we’ll get the scene perfected by the end of the day.” DaSilva stalked back to the van, shaking his head.
Miss Wilks reached into the rear of the Hillman and brought out a flask of tea and a box of sandwiches. “Here, Lucy, have some refreshments. You’ll feel better after a cup of tea.”
#
As Elliott predicted, Lucy’s foot had pretty much recovered at the end of half an hour. It felt slightly sore and showed some bruising, but she was able to walk normally. They did the scene again, and this time it went faultlessly – until the very end. The problem on this occasion was that the two men who appeared in the last part of the scene to arrest her turned out to be Len, the scenery man, and Lukasz, the electrician. The presence of Lukasz there put her off and made her lose her concentration. As a result, when she was pretending to struggle with her captors she inadvertently swallowed her vinegar capsule before she had a chance to bite into it. She tried to fake a grimace, but the eagle-eyed DaSilva spotted that something was amiss and insisted they did the scene once more.
To everyone’s relief, this fourth attempt went perfectly from beginning to end. Lucy had practised the scene so often now that she was beginning to feel she could do it in her sleep. Even DaSilva was satisfied. He got out of the van and came up to her.
“Yes, that was good, Miss Walker,” he said grudgingly. “Unfortunately, however, we’re going to have to stop for today. There’s a technical problem with the camera. I had hoped to get this scene in the can this afternoon, but it looks as if it will have to wait until tomorrow. I’ll get Mr Elliott to take you home now and we’ll all re-convene here at 10 o’clock tomorrow morning. Bef
ore you go, though, Miss Walker, there are a few points I’d like you to note. In view of the fact that you obviously now know where the camera is concealed, tomorrow we’ll have to hide it somewhere else, so there won’t be a blue van parked in the street. Secondly, different actors will be playing the arresting officers, since Len and Lukasz have some important work to do tomorrow back at the studio. We’ll rehearse their stand-ins before you arrive, so they’ll know exactly what to do. And finally, as I’ve said before, film is in very short supply. We have only enough film for one take per scene, so there is no room for error. The scene must be perfect again when we film it tomorrow morning. If there’s a mess up and we have to re-shoot, it just means we’ll have to cut a scene out of the film elsewhere.”
“Don’t worry, Mr DaSilva. Everything will go smoothly tomorrow, I promise.”
DaSilva ignored her assurances. “I’m riding back with the crew – Mr Elliott will give you a lift home.”
He beckoned to Elliott, who was standing watching at the corner of the street, and then went back to the van, where he helped Ted and Barry pack up the gear. After a short interval, Elliott arrived with the car and motioned to Lucy to get in the front with him. Miss Wilks was sitting by herself in the back. They drove first to the warehouse in Riga Street, where Lucy changed into her own clothes, and then they continued on to Lewisham, dropping her off at the end of the road where she lived.
“We’ll pick you up here at 9am sharp tomorrow morning,” Elliott said as she got out. “Don’t be late!”
As she watched them drive off, Lucy felt a tingle of excitement: this was the start of an adventure, she thought, one that would lift her out of the dull world of Aunt Irene and Pickering’s Bookshop. She resolved to make an impact on Mr DaSilva – she would show him who could act! She would be the perfect agent: cool, competent and determined.