by Colin Clark
Marilyn clasped her hands in rapture and dropped to her knees. She looked so young and so innocent that my heart nearly broke. Owen, too, did not take his eyes off her as for nearly a minute she simply radiated joy. Then she stood up, squared her shoulders and looked straight ahead. ‘I sure never had a dolls’ house like that when I was a kid. Why, most people I knew didn’t even have a house that size. But I guess if you’re a queen . . .’
‘And now I’m sure you must be longing to get on your way,’ Owen said. One of the first things a courtier learns is how to stop guests staying for too long. ‘But I’ll tell Her Majesty you were here. I believe you are due to meet her next month.’ (She was, at the Royal premiere of the film The Battle of the River Plate.)
‘So you do know who I am,’ said Marilyn.
‘Of course I do, dear girl. And I’m very flattered that my godson brought you to see me. You’re every bit as lovely as your photographs.’ This wasn’t quite true at that moment, I thought. Marilyn looked like a waif. ‘Now, goodbye, goodbye. I mustn’t keep you,’ and we were popped out of another little door, into the sunshine.
‘Wow!’ said Marilyn. ‘You’ve got quite a godfather, Colin. Do you think he’s like that with the Queen?’
‘Identical,’ I said. ‘That’s why she likes him.’
When we got back to the main gate, a crowd had gathered. Despite Roger’s protests, the two policemen had told their friends who the visitor was, and they had told their friends, etc. At first I thought Marilyn would be nervous, but she was clearly thrilled. She must have been feeling a bit unhappy at being incognito to her public for so long.
‘Shall I be “her”?’ she asked.
Without waiting for an answer, she jumped up on a step and struck a pose. Her hip went out, her shoulders went back, her famous bosom was thrust forward. She pouted her lips and opened her eyes very wide, and there, suddenly, was the image the whole world knew. Instinctively the audience started to applaud. Several of them had cameras, and for a few minutes Marilyn gave them all the poses they required. Considering that she had hardly any make-up on, and had not done her hair, it was an incredible performance.
But I felt distinctly uneasy. What was I doing with this Hollywood star? A moment ago I had been squeezing her hand as if she was a girlfriend. If I didn’t watch out, I was going to make a complete fool of myself. I would never have dared to take liberties like that with Vivien Leigh – and I knew her much better than Marilyn, who I hardly knew at all. I found myself skulking at the edge of the group, feeling about two feet tall and wishing I was dead.
Finally Roger decided the crowd was getting too big, and gave a signal to the policemen. They pushed the onlookers to one side and made a path for us, although people were still frantically pushing forward to catch another glimpse, as if some goddess had come down from heaven into their midst.
‘Who are you?’ One man challenged me as I tried to squeeze into the back of the car.
‘Oh, I’m no one,’ I said. ‘I’m just working on the film with Miss Monroe.’
‘You must never say you’re no one,’ said Marilyn very seriously when the door had shut. ‘You are you. Anyway, it’s me who should be asking that question. Who do I think I am? Marilyn Monroe?’ And she burst into giggles. ‘I’m hungry, Colin. Where are we going to eat?’
We went to an olde-worlde tea shop in Eton High Street called The Cockpit, all black beams and inglenook fireplaces and little old ladies eating scones. I had thought of going to the Old House Hotel, which has excellent food, but someone would certainly have recognised Marilyn, and I couldn’t face that again. I had just been reminded how quickly Marilyn could attract a crowd. I suppose I was getting possessive – and the truth was that I preferred being with Marilyn when she was frail, and not playing the great star. Now she looked like a schoolgirl as she tucked into a large pile of egg and cress sandwiches, and sipped coffee out of a mug. My heart went out to her again.
‘What are we going to do next, Colin? I haven’t felt so hungry in ages. Boy, these sandwiches are really good. Pretty fattening too, I guess, but what the heck. I feel as if I was being taken out on a treat. Did you ever get taken here by your mom and dad? Now I can imagine exactly how you felt.’
‘Let’s go and have a look at my school,’ I said. ‘I haven’t been back there since I was eighteen.’
‘That long, huh? But don’t forget about the swim. You promised a swim.’
‘We haven’t got any swimming costumes,’ I protested. (Just imagine what a crowd that could involve. There’d be a riot.)
‘Oh, phooey,’ said Marilyn. ‘You can wear your pants. After all, it isn’t every day that you get a chance to go swimming with Marilyn Monroe.’ She hooted with giggles again, making the old ladies at the nearby tables give us disapproving looks.
‘Roger,’ I said, ‘there’s a clothes shop across the road. Could you pop across and buy a couple of towels and a pair of swimming trunks for me? I’ll pay you back for all this when we get home.’
‘If we get home in one piece,’ muttered Roger. He clearly thought that swimming was a very bad idea, but he went anyway, coming back into the tea shop a few minutes later with a brown paper parcel which he put disapprovingly under his seat.
‘This is such fun,’ said Marilyn. ‘I’m so excited. Let’s go.’
‘A bit more culture first,’ I said. ‘It will warm us up.’
‘Ooh,’ said Marilyn.
Roger drove us off, and stopped by Eton School yard. We all went inside.
‘It all looks awfully old,’ said Marilyn. ‘And a little bit dusty too, if I may say so.’
‘It is old,’ I said. ‘Over five hundred years. That statue is of the founder of the school, King Henry the Sixth. When we were students, if we didn’t work hard enough we would be beaten with a bundle of sticks. It was called being swiped, and it took place in that room over there. Our trousers would be pulled down, and we would be whipped until the blood ran down our legs. The legend was that if a boy could break away, climb the railings and touch the foot of the statue before he was caught he would get the royal pardon, and wouldn’t be swiped.’
‘Gosh. I’m not sure I like this nobility stuff. Were you ever beaten, Colin?’
‘I was beaten quite often with a cane, Marilyn, but I was never swiped.’
‘Poor Colin. I had a very unhappy time as a kid, but I was never beaten like that. Let’s get out of here before they catch us. Race you back to the car,’ and she ran off across the quadrangle like a gazelle, with me in pursuit.
The day had become hot and sultry. Roger had left the car in the shade, but the temperature in the back of the old Wolsey was now tropical. I showed Roger where to turn off the main road in order to get within a reasonable distance of the river. The track was more bumpy than I remembered, and Marilyn held on to me for dear life, so by the time the car stopped, we were glued together with perspiration. It was with huge relief that we dashed across the grass to the water’s edge and prepared to plunge in.
‘This is the only place where there’s sand to walk on,’ I said. ‘That’s why it’s the nicest place for a dip. I’ve swum here, many, many times, even at the risk of being beaten. But watch out, Marilyn. The water’s cold.’
‘That’s just what I need!’ cried Marilyn. ‘A cold bath. But why isn’t there anyone else here?’
‘All the boys have gone home for the summer holidays.’
I take a long time to get undressed (or dressed, for that matter). For some reason, I always think I have to be neat. By the time I had got my new trunks on, Marilyn and I having taken separate bushes behind which to change, I had already heard the splash of Marilyn jumping into the water. When I finally emerged, her smiling blonde head was bobbing about on the surface of the Thames. As I waded in to join her, I could hear her singing to herself, and laughing out loud.
‘Oh, I’m so happy. I really feel that this is happening to me, and no one else.’ She stared at me, laughed again, stared again, an
d then suddenly looked serious. ‘Colin,’ she called, ‘I’ve got something in my eye. Would you help me get it out?’
Laboriously I waded towards her through the icy water, my hands held high above my head, and peered down into her huge eyes. Marilyn put out her arms, clasped them behind my head, pulled my head to hers and kissed me full on the lips.
It took about a hundredth of a second before I realised what was going on, and then another hundredth before I realised that Marilyn was naked, at least from the waist up. The sensation of her lips and bosom pressed against mine, combined with the icy water, nearly caused me to pass out.
‘Phew! That was great,’ gasped Marilyn. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever kissed anyone younger than me. Shall we do it again?’
‘Later, Marilyn darling.’ I was in a panic. ‘What if a boat comes past? And anyway, we’ll freeze. You wait here for a second while I get the towels. If you come out like that and someone sees you, we’ll get arrested.’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ said Marilyn, wading out with me. ‘Roger will fix it. Now, Colin, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.’
It was true that I had indeed once seen her in the nude when I accidentally barged into her dressing room unannounced, but that did not mean that I could keep my eyes off her now. Her beautiful body was simply glowing with health and vitality, and she reminded me of one of those adorable young ladies who sit on clouds in paintings by Tiepolo. I reached the bank before her, grabbed one of the towels and wrapped it round as much of her as I could. Then I picked up the other one to hide the all too obvious evidence of the powerful attraction which I felt.
‘Oh, Colin,’ giggled Marilyn. ‘And you an old Etonian.’ She threw back her head and laughed, because that was what she had said when I had burst in on her before, and she knew it had caught me out. ‘That was great. I’m not used to being kissed, you know. The men in my life don’t seem to have time. They either jump straight on top of me, or want me to jump straight on top of them.’
Roger was sleeping peacefully under a tree when we got back to the car, and he viewed our tousled appearance and wet clothes with obvious disapproval. ‘Time to go home, I’d say.’
‘I suppose it is,’ said Marilyn. Suddenly she looked depressed. She got into the car and hunched down in the back seat, like a child who knows it is going to be punished.
The drive back to Parkside House took twenty minutes. I held her hand, but she didn’t speak again. For some reason I felt desperately guilty, but there was nothing I could say. It was time to be grown up again.
Sure enough, when we arrived there were two cars parked in the drive, and when we went in, two men waiting in the hall. One was Milton Greene. The other was Marilyn’s lawyer, Irving Stein.
‘Hello, Irving. Hello, Milt,’ said Marilyn sweetly. ‘Roger can drive you home now, Colin. And if you’ – looking at her lawyer and her co-producer – ‘hurt one hair of his head, or get him fired off this picture, I’ll be very, very upset. Understand?’
‘Yes, Marilyn,’ they both gulped.
‘Very upset.’ And she vanished upstairs.
‘Perhaps we could just have a word with you, Mr Clark, before you leave,’ said Stein.
‘I suppose so,’ I said warily. They looked like the enemy to me.
‘Have you heard of the legal term “enticement”? Miss Monroe is legally contracted to us, as you know. Anyone who entices her not to fulfil her contractual obligations to us could be held responsible under the law. And this includes her personal relationships.’
Milton looked wretched, like one of the Lost Boys in Peter Pan, but Stein was clearly in charge.
‘Every single minute that I have spent with Miss Monroe has been at her invitation,’ I replied. ‘And what is more, we have never been out of the presence of Detective Chief Superintendent Roger Smith of Scotland Yard. You could hardly ask for a more reliable chaperone than that. Catch you later, Milton. Come on, Roger, I thought you were going to give me a lift. Mustn’t keep you waiting . . .’ And I was gone.
I asked Roger to drop me at the pub near Runnymede House, and I had dinner there. I could not face explaining what had happened to anyone. Tony would most definitely not have understood.
When I did get to bed, I could not sleep. The image of Marilyn seemed to be dancing round my head – laughing, weeping, waving, sighing – twice lifesize. I remembered the kiss, but I couldn’t seem to remember feeling it. I was immensely exhilarated, but at the same time desperately sad. When I did finally pass out, I dreamed that I was swimming in a stormy sea, towards a life raft that I could see and even feel, but never quite grasp.
SUNDAY, 16 SEPTEMBER
‘Well well. Who’s been a naughty boy, then?’
Next morning, at Runnymede House, Anne Bushell was positively flirtatious. ‘Tony nearly had an apoplectic fit when he saw Marilyn in the back of Roger’s car.’
‘Me too.’
‘Oh, so you didn’t know she was going to be there? It wasn’t all a cunning plot?’
‘If it was, I wasn’t in on it, I can assure you. It was just a sudden whim of Marilyn’s. She wanted to escape that stuffy house, and all those people telling her what to do. She can be tremendous fun, you know.’
‘I’ll bet she can,’ said Anne.
I ignored the innuendo.
‘What did you two do together, exactly?’
‘We went to Windsor Castle and met my godfather – he’s the Royal Librarian. We had lunch at a tea shop and then we visited Eton College.’
‘That all sounds very nice and cultural, but it doesn’t quite explain your appearance when you got in last night.’
I had gone straight up to my room, but Anne always noticed everything.
‘You looked as if you’d been swimming to me. Can Marilyn swim?’
‘Well, er . . . yes, she can, actually, very well, and you see, it was so frightfully hot, so we went for a dip in the river at a little spot I knew from when I was a schoolboy.’
‘Quite,’ said Anne. ‘I’d better not ask what you used for swimming costumes.’
I was temporarily saved from this line of questioning by the telephone ringing in the hall.
Predictably, it was Milton Greene. ‘Hey, Colin, I wonder if I could drop over for a chat. Everything’s fine. Don’t worry, I’m not going to scold you. I just think we should talk – man to man.’
‘Anne, is it all right if Milton comes over? . . . OK, Milton,’ I said wearily. ‘Come over, but Anne’s going to give us lunch at one o’clock, so you’ll have to be gone by then.’
‘Take him out into the garden,’ said Anne after I’d hung up. ‘Perhaps the English countryside will help him to calm down.’
Ten minutes later, Milton drove up.
‘Let’s walk down to the river’s edge,’ I said. ‘This place is called Runnymede. Do you know why Runnymede is famous?’
‘No,’ said Milton.
‘Runnymede is the island on the River Thames where King John was forced to sign the Magna Carta on 15 June 1215. Every English schoolboy knows that. That’s 741 years ago, Milton, and the Magna Carta is still the foundation of the British Constitution today. Among other things, it guaranteed every man the right to a fair trial. The barons had to capture London before the King would agree to sign it. I only mention this because I want to put my little trip with Marilyn into perspective.’
‘Hey, Colin, I’m not mad at you. Not mad at all. I’ve just come over to give you a word of advice. I’m entirely on your side. I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.’
Oh, sure, I thought. Except you wouldn’t mind if I broke every bone in my body falling off a cliff.
‘How kind of you, Milton.’
‘You see, I’ve known Marilyn for a very long time – it must be seven years now – and I understand where she’s coming from. I fell in love with her just like you did. She was living with a powerful Hollywood agent called Johnny Hyde and I was a photographer for Life magazine, and she and I had a ten
-day romance. That’s the trouble with Marilyn, and there’s no way I can break this to you gently, Colin. Marilyn has a romance with anybody who happens to take her fancy. I know you put her on a pedestal. We all do. But it’s a mistake to fall in love with her. She’ll only break your heart. You’ve obviously had a great time together. Now leave it at that. Get out before you get burned.’
‘Finished, Milton?’
‘Hey, don’t get mad. I’m sorry I had to tell you this, but it’s for your own good.’
‘Firstly,’ I said, ‘Marilyn may have “a romance”, as you put it, with the man in the moon for all I care, but she isn’t having one with me. It is possible to spend the day together and have a lot of fun without romance, you know.’
Milton looked doubtful. ‘She said you kissed her.’
‘Secondly, I have not fallen in love with Marilyn. I don’t know about Hollywood, but in England we take a little longer than a day to fall in love. And thirdly, I have not put Marilyn on a pedestal, or anywhere else. To me she is just a beautiful, funny, rather sad lady whose company I enjoy enormously. Of course I realise that she’s also the most famous film star in the world. Nor have I forgotten that she’s on her honeymoon, and that her husband is a well-known writer. But she is under tremendous pressure. She’s trying to give a great performance in a very difficult film. Her co-star is being horrid to her. She doesn’t know who she can trust.’
Milton frowned.
‘Now her husband has left her for ten days, I can’t imagine why. So she jolly well deserves a day off, and if she chooses to spend it with me, I just count myself incredibly lucky, and I certainly won’t refuse.’
‘Did she say anything about me? Or the filming?’
‘Nothing. Not a word. She did not utter one word of complaint the whole day. We went to see my godfather . . .’
‘Yeah, I heard. Gee, I’d sure like to see those pictures. Those Holbein drawings are probably the greatest portraits in the world. I’m a portrait photographer, don’t forget.’