“Hello, Miss White,” Kait began in a bright, polite voice, not sure of the best approach. “My name is Kait Whittier, and Maeve O’Hara was kind enough to give me your number. She and I are going to be working on a television series together, about women in aviation in the 1940s. And there’s a part in it we both felt is perfect for you. Nancy Haskell is going to direct it, and she thought so too.” She threw in all the names she could, hoping that one of them would be the “open sesame” she needed into Agnes White’s private world, and to gain her trust, or arouse her curiosity about the project.
“I’m not an actress anymore, I’m out of the business,” she said firmly, her voice sounding stronger and very definite about it.
“Could I send you a copy of the bible for the show, or come to talk to you about it?” Kait said cautiously, not wanting to offend her, but hoping to entice her and get a good foot in the door, literally.
“If Maeve is involved in it, I’m sure it’s a good show,” she said generously. “I’m just not interested in working anymore….I haven’t been in many years. I don’t want to come out of retirement. We all have an expiration date, and I reached mine ten years ago. We can’t force these things, and I’ve never done television, and don’t want to.”
“It would be a great honor to meet you,” Kait said, trying another tack, and it was true, just as it had been to meet Maeve, and Kait couldn’t wait to work with her. And casting Agnes White as Hannabel would be another major coup. There was a long silence at the other end of the phone, and for a moment she thought they’d been disconnected or that Agnes had hung up.
“Why would you want to meet me?” she said finally, sounding baffled. “I’m just an old woman.”
“You’re my idol, and so is Maeve. You’re the two greatest actresses of my lifetime,” Kait said with reverence and meant it.
“All of that’s in the past now,” she said, her voice drifting off. She slurred on the last words, and Kait wondered if she’d been drinking. “You won’t talk me into it. Are you writing the screenplay?”
“No, just the bible.”
“It sounds like an interesting subject.” And then after another pause, she startled Kait. “I suppose you could come to see me. We don’t have to talk about your show. I won’t do it anyway. You can tell me what Maeve has been up to. How are her children?” She seemed lonely and a little disconnected, and Kait was concerned that she might have the early stages of dementia, and wondered if that was why she had retired.
“I haven’t met them, but I think they’re fine. Her husband isn’t well, though.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Ian is a wonderful man,” she said and Kait agreed without telling her how sick he was, which might upset her unduly and betray a confidence.
“Come tomorrow then, at five o’clock. Do you know where I live?”
“Maeve gave me your address,” Kait assured her.
“You can’t stay long. I get tired easily,” she said, seeming older than she was, and as though she wasn’t used to visitors. Kait wondered how long it had been since she left her house. She had a feeling that the visit was going to be depressing, and not achieve the desired result. Agnes really did sound too old and frail, and even confused, to resume her career. But at least she could tell Zack and Maeve she tried.
They hung up a moment later, and the next day Kait left the office early to get to Agnes’s house on time. She lived in an old brownstone in the East Seventies, near the East River, that looked as though it had been handsome when it was kept up. The paint was peeling off the black shutters, one was hanging at an awkward angle on a broken hinge, and two were missing. The black paint on the front door was chipping in several places, and the brass knocker was tarnished. And there was a big chunk missing out of one of the stone steps that looked like it would be dangerous for an old person.
Kait walked up the steps, avoiding the broken one, and rang the doorbell. Just like the phone, for a long time no one answered. And then finally it opened, and a small, thin, wizened woman who looked a hundred years old stood in the doorway, squinting in the daylight. The hallway was dark behind her. Kait realized that she would never have recognized Agnes if she saw her on the street. She was painfully thin, and her white hair hung long and straight to her shoulders. Her famously exquisite features were still beautiful, but her eyes seemed vacant. She was wearing a black skirt, flat shoes, and a sagging gray sweater. Observing her, it was hard to believe that she had once been a great beauty, as she stood aside and gestured Kait in. The droop of her shoulders exuded despair and defeat.
“Mrs. Whittier?” she asked formally and Kait nodded, and handed her a small bouquet of flowers she had brought with her, which made the old woman smile.
“That was nice of you. But I still won’t do your series.” She sounded feisty as she said it and motioned Kait to follow her. They walked the length of the house, down a dark hall into the kitchen. There were cooking pots in the sink, and dirty dishes, stacks of newspapers and old magazines everywhere. A single frayed place mat lay on the table, with a linen napkin in a silver ring. The room had a pretty view into a garden, which was overgrown. Kait noticed a half-empty bottle of bourbon standing next to the sink, and pretended not to see it. She glimpsed a back balcony with a rusted table on it, which led down to the garden. Kait could easily imagine that the house had been lovely once, but not in a long time. Through the open door to the dining room she caught a peek of handsome antiques, and the table was piled high with newspapers too.
“Do you want something to drink?” Agnes asked Kait, as she glanced longingly at the bourbon herself.
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Kait said, and Agnes nodded.
“Come into the library,” she said, leading the way and when they got there, Agnes sat down on a dark red velvet couch with a gray cashmere throw blanket on it. The walls were lined with books, there was a beautiful English partners desk piled high with papers and what looked like unopened mail, and a television set up on a low table, with stacks of DVDs and old envelopes from Netflix on it. With a single glance, Kait realized that they were Agnes’s movies, and seeing them made Kait instantly sad for her, as she got a glimpse into the great actress’s life. She was spending what was left of it alone in a dark room, watching her films and drinking bourbon. Kait couldn’t imagine a sadder fate than that. She seemed to have given up on the world and shut everyone out, but at least she had let Kait come to see her.
“Some of my pictures,” Agnes said, waving a still graceful hand at the stack of movies. “They’re all on DVD now.”
“I think I’ve seen most of them. I don’t think you realize how many fans you have in every generation, or how thrilled they would be to see you again, and on TV in their living room every week. You could have a whole new career,” Kait said, not even for the sake of her series, but for this poor, lonely woman who had locked herself away from the world.
“I don’t want a new career. I liked my old one, and I’m too old for all that now. And television isn’t a medium I understand, nor do I want to.”
“It’s very exciting these days, and some major actors are doing TV series, like Maeve.”
“She’s young enough to do that, I’m not. I’ve had all the great roles I could ever want. There’s nothing left I want to play. I’ve worked with all the great actors and directors. I’m not interested in taking part in some kind of new wave or new movement as an experiment.”
“Even to work with Maeve?” Kait asked, and Agnes smiled at that. Looking at her more closely, Kait recognized the face she’d seen on screen. But she seemed a great deal older, and there was something desperately unhappy and tormented about her eyes. Kait wondered if anyone came to cook for her. The house didn’t appear as though it had been cleaned or tidied in ages. Agnes saw Kait glancing around and was quick to explain.
“My maid died last year. I haven’t replaced her yet, an
d I live alone here anyway. I can take care of it myself.” But it didn’t look as though she had. She was clean and neatly dressed, but the house was a disaster and made Kait want to take off her coat and put it in order for her.
“I can’t work anymore,” Agnes said, without explaining why. She didn’t appear to be suffering from any illness, she was just old and frail beyond her years. She was alert and intelligent but now and then she lost the thread of the conversation or lost interest and stopped paying attention as though none of it mattered. Kait thought she might be tired, or had a shot of the bourbon before her guest arrived. She suspected that was the case, and was curious if Agnes had become an alcoholic as well as a recluse.
“You’re cheating the world of your talent,” Kait said quietly, and Agnes didn’t answer for a long moment. Kait noticed that her hands shook as she fiddled with the edge of the cashmere blanket.
“No one wants to see an old woman on the screen. There is nothing more unattractive than people who don’t know when to take a final bow, fold the show, and leave,” she said firmly.
“You weren’t old when you did that,” Kait persisted, afraid Agnes might tell her to go, but daring to say it anyway.
“No, I wasn’t, but I had my reasons. And I still do.” And then, without explanation, she got up and left the room for a few minutes. Kait could hear her doing something in the kitchen, but felt too awkward to follow her. And in a moment, Agnes was back with a bourbon on the rocks in her hand. She turned to Kait before she sat down on the couch again. And she made no apology for her drink. “Do you want to watch one of my movies?” she suddenly offered.
Kait was taken aback and didn’t know what to say, and silently nodded.
“I like this one very much,” Agnes said, setting the drink down, taking a DVD out of its case, and putting it in the machine. It was the film Queen Victoria, for which she had been nominated for an Oscar. “I think it’s my best.” She had portrayed the queen from her youth to her deathbed. Kait had seen it before, and it was a remarkable performance. It would be an extraordinary experience watching it with the great actress herself. No one would have believed it.
They sat silently together for two and a half hours in the dimly lit room. Kait was mesmerized by the extraordinary performance, one of the finest in movie history. Agnes went back to the kitchen and helped herself to another bourbon halfway through, and after that, she dozed from time to time, and then would wake up and continue watching the movie. She seemed a little drunk when it was over and unsteady on her feet when she took the movie out and placed it back in its box. It felt tragic for her to be watching herself as a young woman and clinging to the past, shut away in her house and forgotten by the world. There was something heartbreaking about it.
“I doubt that your show on TV will compare to that,” she said bluntly, and Kait was equally so when she answered.
“No, it won’t, but if I have anything to do with it, it will be a damn good show. I’m sure Maeve will be wonderful, and so would you if you did it.” The more Kait looked at her, the more beautiful she seemed, and would be, if she gained a little weight and stopped drinking. She had the matchstick legs, bloated belly, and sallow complexion of an alcoholic, which seemed like such a terrible waste, considering what she had been. And then Kait dared to ask her a question Agnes didn’t expect. “Would you stop drinking if you came back to work?”
Agnes looked shocked as their eyes met, and Kait could see that there was still fire in the old woman’s eyes.
“I might,” she said tartly, “but I didn’t say I’d do the series, did I?”
“No, you didn’t. But maybe you should. You have too much talent to sit here drinking and watching your old movies. Maybe it’s time to make new ones,” Kait said, feeling very daring.
“Television isn’t movies,” she said harshly. “Not by any stretch of the imagination. Not like the film you just saw.” Her lover had directed it, and had won the Oscar for best director. And she got a nomination for her performance.
“No, but TV is very good these days,” Kait said staunchly. “You can’t waste your talent, hiding in your house.” It suddenly made Kait angry, thinking about it.
“I’m not hiding. And I could stop drinking whenever I want. I have nothing else to do,” she said stubbornly. She was surprised when Kait stood up and took a thick envelope out of her handbag and put it on the coffee table in front of her hostess.
“I’m leaving you a copy of the bible, Miss White. You don’t have to do it, or even read it, but I hope you will. I believe in the project, and so does Maeve. So does Ian. He convinced her to do it, and it would mean the world to all of us if you would take the part of Hannabel, or at least consider it. I won’t be angry if you don’t do it, but I’ll be disappointed and sad. And so will Maeve. She suggested you for the part, which was an inspired idea. You would be brilliant in it.” Kait put on her coat then and smiled at Agnes White. “Thank you for letting me come to see you. It was a huge honor, and I loved watching Queen Victoria with you. I’ll remember it forever.”
Agnes didn’t know what to say to her, and then she stood up too, and nearly stumbled as she walked around the coffee table to see her out. She didn’t say a word until they got to the front door, and then she looked at Kait, and seemed more sober again.
“Thank you,” Agnes said with dignity. “I enjoyed watching it with you too. And I’ll read the bible when I have time,” which Kait suspected would be never. She would let it sit there in the manila envelope and ignore it. And the worst part of it was that she needed them even more than they needed her. Someone had to save her from herself and the destructive path she was on, and probably had been for a long time.
“Take good care of yourself,” Kait said gently, and then made her way gingerly down the front steps to avoid the broken one. She heard the door close firmly behind her, and suspected that the old actress would head straight to the bourbon bottle, now that her visitor was gone and she could drink freely.
Kait thought about her visit and was profoundly depressed all the way home. It was like watching someone drown and not being able to save them.
She had just walked into her apartment when Maeve called her.
“How did it go?” she asked, obviously anxious. Kait had emailed her that she was going to see Agnes White that afternoon.
“I just got home,” Kait said with a sigh. “I was with her for three hours. We watched Queen Victoria together. She must have every movie she ever made, on DVD, and I get the feeling she spends her days alone, watching them. It’s really very sad, and she doesn’t want to do the series.”
“I figured she wouldn’t, but it was worth a try,” Maeve said, disappointed too. “Other than that, how was she? Does she look all right? Is she in good health?”
“At first glance she looks a hundred and two, but when you talk to her for a while, you see the same face emerge, just a lot older. She’s very thin. And,” Kait hesitated, not sure how much to tell her, “I urged her to come back to work, but she’d have some things to work out if she did.”
“She’s drinking?” Maeve asked, worried.
“You know about that?” She hadn’t told Kait about it.
“More or less. I guessed. Her life fell apart pretty brutally when Roberto died, and some other things happened. She drank a lot then. I hoped it was only temporary.”
“Her hands shake pretty badly, and I suspect she drinks all the time. She had a couple of stiff bourbons while I was there. She says she can stop whenever she wants to. She probably could, but it wouldn’t be easy, especially if she’s been drinking for a long time. I left the bible with her, but I doubt she’ll read it. In fact, I’m sure she won’t.”
“She’s stubborn, but she’s a tough old bird, and she’s far from stupid. It all depends if she wants to come back into the world or not.”
“My guess would be ‘not.�
�� And aside from wanting her to play Hannabel, it’s just such a terrible waste, to see her locked up in that house, drinking and watching her old movies. It was pretty depressing.”
“I can imagine it would be,” Maeve said sympathetically. “I’m sorry if I sent you on a wild-goose chase.”
“It’s all right. It was an honor to meet her. It was surreal, sitting there with her and watching the movie.” Kait laughed at the memory of it. “How’s Ian?” she asked.
“He’s all right, about the same. He’s in good spirits. Well, let’s see if you hear from her.”
“I don’t think I will,” Kait said and they hung up. She went to make a salad, and then she worked late at her desk on the column. She wanted to do a special one for Mother’s Day, which took a lot of thought, given the complexity of mother-daughter relationships. She called Stephanie, but she was out. And she didn’t want to bother Tom, they were always busy.
From time to time as she worked, she thought of the afternoon she had spent with Agnes White, and then went back to her work. It made her want to write about adult substance abuse. Many of her readers wrote to her about their alcoholic or drug-addicted spouses, or young people about their parents.
She went to bed late that night and got up early the next morning to get a jump-start on her desk at the office. It was Friday and she was looking forward to the weekend. She’d been going at full speed for weeks. It was seven when she got home that night, too tired to eat, feeling totally drained and longing for her bed. And she saw on her email that Becca had sent her a second draft of the latest script, but she was too tired to read it. She decided to look at it over the weekend with a fresh eye.
The Cast Page 10