by Colin Clark
‘Kinda.’
‘Me too. But now we’re going to sleep.’
‘I tell you what, we’ll spoon.’
‘Spoon?’
‘Yeah, I used to do this with Johnny – Johnny Hyde – when he was sick. Pull off your trousers and get into the bed, Colin. Now lie very straight, with your face towards the edge. Hey, it’s good that you’re thin like Johnny.’
Marilyn turned off the light and lay down behind me. I could feel her stretching out her face towards the back of my neck, until her body ran the whole length of mine. This is getting dangerous, I thought. One thing could lead to another in the dark. But Marilyn was clearly enjoying herself, being in control.
‘Now slowly bring your knees up, Colin, and curl your back forwards.’
As I did so I could feel Marilyn doing the same, until I was completely enveloped in a soft embrace.
‘See?’ said Marilyn. ‘Like a spoon!’
I breathed out at last. ‘Goodnight,’ I said. ‘Sleep well.’
‘Mmm,’ said Marilyn. ‘This is great. I will.’
TUESDAY, 18 SEPTEMBER
For the first two minutes, I was feeling so wonderful that I could not even imagine falling asleep. The next thing I knew, an alarm clock was going off on the other side of the bed, and sunlight was streaming into the room. To my amazement I could hear singing and splashing coming from the bathroom.
‘I found a dream, I laid in your arms the whole night through,
I’m yours, no matter what others may say or do . . .’
Marilyn was rehearsing the beautiful little waltz written by Richard Addinsell for the film – ‘The Sleeping Prince Waltz’. So she can get up in the morning after all, I thought, if she wants to.
Then, as I clambered over the quilt to silence the clock, it dawned on me that I could be in serious trouble. I had just spent the night in bed with someone else’s wife, and there were five witnesses right here in the house. I retrieved my grey flannel trousers from the floor and went into the dressing room. At least there was a sofa in there, even though it was rather short. I went back into the bedroom for a couple of pillows and that fancy pink coverlet and arranged them in careful disarray, to make it look as if I had spent the night as far away from Marilyn as possible. Only Maria would see it, I thought, so I must make sure she would notice. I might need her to give evidence later – I was not sure to whom. I put an ashtray and a glass on the floor by the sofa, as well as a pile of books.
‘Marilyn,’ I called. ‘I’m going to the studio. See you there soon. OK?’
Marilyn came out of the bathroom in her white towelling robe.
‘Hey, Colin, you look a bit messed up. What will Sir Laurence say? I slept great. I’m really going to show him what I can do today. Wait a minute, you need the key to escape.’
She laughed and went to her dressing table.
‘There you are. Tell Roger I’ll be down in ten minutes. See you later.’
It was already a quarter to seven.
‘’Bye, Marilyn. You are a star.’
I tore downstairs, almost crashing into Roger in the hall.
‘Miss Monroe will be leaving in ten minutes,’ I gasped.
Roger looked grim.
‘Don’t worry, Roger. She’s feeling great.’
‘I’ll bet she is.’
‘Now, Roger, don’t jump to conclusions. I slept in the dressing room. See you at the studio. And please, put on a cheerful face. We can’t have her losing her nerve now.’
‘Morning, Evans,’ I called cheerily as I roared off down the drive.
I managed to get to the studios just one minute before Sir Laurence’s brown Bentley came round the corner of the dressing-room wing.
‘Morning, boy! Is make-up ready?’
‘I’ll check, Sir Laurence.’
Olivier stopped and stared.
‘You look a bit rough this morning. Anything up?’
‘Everything is fine, I think, Sir Laurence.’
‘Good. Well, let me know when Marilyn arrives. That is, if she does arrive at all. Any clues?’
‘Oh, I think she will arrive this morning.’
Olivier gave me a piercing look.
‘I really hope so,’ I said to myself. You could never be absolutely sure with Marilyn.
‘High time, too.’
He went into his dressing room and shut the door, while I went in search of the make-up man. Ten minutes later, to my huge relief, Marilyn’s car appeared, Evans impassive at the wheel. Out got Roger. Out got Paula, out got Marilyn.
‘Good morning, Colin.’
‘Good morning, Miss Monroe. It’s a lovely day.’ I couldn’t resist a grin.
‘Yes, isn’t it Colin!’ and she grinned right at me, to Paula and Roger’s obvious alarm.
‘Make-up is waiting in your dressing room. I’ll be back in an hour.’
‘All right. See you then.’
I rushed along to Olivier’s dressing room bursting with pride.
‘Miss Monroe has arrived, Sir Laurence. She’s being made up now.’
‘What? At 7.15? Why, she’s almost on time. What the hell brought that about? Colin, were you involved in this?’
Olivier glowered, and then gave a roar of laughter.
‘You spent the night with her, didn’t you? No wonder you look so scruffy. Oh dear, what will I tell K and Jane [my parents]?’
‘Nothing improper happened, Larry, I promise.’
‘I don’t care if it did. At least you got her to the studio on time. That’s all that matters. Now, let’s settle down and try to make a film. And well done – but if I were you I’d go along to wardrobe and try to smarten up. And maybe to make-up too. And have a shower. You don’t want the whole studio to know.’
Gradually the rest of the crew arrived, and one by one they nearly fainted with surprise. ‘Marilyn!’ ‘Here already?’ ‘I can’t believe it!’ ‘That’s a first!’ etc. The set was dressed and the lights rehung in half the normal time. David Orton kept me busier than usual on the studio floor, and I forgot all about Marilyn until her dresser came to find me two hours later.
‘Miss Monroe would like a word, Colin.’
David groaned. ‘At least let me know if she’s ready, will you?’
‘Oh, she’s ready, Mr Orton,’ said the dresser. ‘She just wants a word with Colin first.’
‘Oh she does, does she? Has Colin taken on Paula’s job too, then?’ He raised his eyes to heaven. ‘Lord, what did I do to deserve an assistant director like this?’
When I got to Marilyn’s dressing room, she was still in the inner sanctum, but fully dressed and looking radiant.
‘Colin, I’m feeling a little nervous now,’ she said. She gripped my fingers hard. ‘What do you think?’
‘Marilyn, darling,’ I didn’t care if Paula could hear or not. ‘Think of the future. You are the future. Now, come on the set and show those old fogies what you can do.’
It was a wonderful day. I only had eyes for Marilyn, although I didn’t speak to her again. To my great relief most of the crew simply ignored me. It was as if my new role made me someone else, and put me on a different level. Paula fussed around as usual, but Marilyn seemed to have risen above her in some way, like a swan gliding through the reeds. She remembered her lines, came in on cue, and smiled brightly at the other actors on the set. When Olivier went over to give her some direction, she looked directly into his eyes and said, ‘Gee! Sure!’ instead of turning to Paula halfway through.
It was not until she was back in her dressing room at the end of the day that I got a chance to spend a moment with her alone.
‘You were magnificent! You did it! You showed them all!’
‘I was scared. Will you come by again this evening? Please? Come after supper. I’ve got to spend some time with Paula. I’ve got to learn my lines.’
The ice beneath my feet was wafer-thin, but I could not resist those eyes.
‘All right. I’ll come. But I’ve got no exc
use to spend the night this time.’
‘See you later then, Colin.’
‘Goodbye.’
Tony and Anne looked pretty stunned when I reappeared at Runnymede House that evening. By now they knew where I had been the night before, and I don’t think they ever expected to see me again. It was as if they thought Marilyn had swallowed me up, like a snake. Anne seemed rather upset, but Tony was full of congratulations.
‘I don’t know how you did it, Colin, but Laurence’ – Tony is the only man in the world who calls Olivier ‘Laurence’ – ‘was absolutely delighted. At this rate we’ll finish the film early. What did you do? Do you think it will last?’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ I said.
‘I think we can all guess what Colin did,’ said Anne tartly. ‘The question is, what happens next? And what will Mr Miller say when he gets back?’
‘Marilyn and I are not having an affair,’ I said wearily.
‘No, of course not,’ said Tony bluffly. ‘Just good friends, right? Anyway, you’re much too young for her.’
‘And much too naïve,’ added Anne.
‘So you’ll be staying here tonight, I assume,’ said Anne.
‘Ah, well, I suppose, I’m not sure about that. I have to drop by Parkside after dinner, just to make sure Marilyn is all right. She absolutely insisted. But I do want to come back here to sleep – if I can.’
‘Quite,’ said Anne.
When I arrived at Marilyn’s house again Roger was pacing up and down outside, obviously waiting to talk to me before I went in. I parked as discreetly as possible and he came across, knocking his pipe out on his shoe.
‘Miss Monroe is quite upset. She’s with Paula at the moment. I’d leave them to it and wait, if I was you.’
‘For heaven’s sake, what’s the matter now?’ Colin, the twenty-four-hour cure! ‘She was super today. Olivier was happy, she looked happy. It was as if the sun had come out.’
‘You didn’t think they’d let you take her over, did you?’
‘I don’t want to take her over. She’s not a company. She’s a person. I just want to help.’
‘I think you’ll find she is a company. Marilyn Monroe Productions. That’s who pays my wages, anyway. And Milton Greene was here for an hour, too. He’s plotting something, that’s for sure. But I don’t think he’ll tell Mr Miller. I think he sees Mr Miller as a bigger threat than you.’
‘So he jolly well should. Mr Miller is her husband. I’m nothing more than a passing fancy. Everybody in the movie industry fusses too much about what is happening that actual minute. Nobody takes the long view. It’s a wonder any film ever gets finished at all.’
‘It’ll certainly be a miracle if we ever finish this one.’
Roger and I went into the kitchen to wait. Poor girl, I thought. I bet Paula is confusing her all over again. But then, I suppose that if she didn’t, she’d be out of a job, just like the rest of them.
It was nearly dark by the time Paula appeared.
‘Hello, Colin. You’d better go up. But don’t stay too long. She’s very tired, and she’s not feeling too well.’
When I got up to the bedroom, Marilyn was lying down in the half darkness, looking very fragile indeed.
‘Oh, Colin. I’m feeling so bad.’
‘What has upset you now?’
‘Paula told me that Sir Laurence yelled at her that I couldn’t act, and never would be a real actress. And in front of the crew. The whole film crew.’
‘Today? Olivier did that today? But I was there all the time.’
I was totally incredulous. I couldn’t believe Olivier would do such a thing, especially today.
‘No, I guess it wasn’t today,’ admitted Marilyn. ‘Maybe yesterday.’
Oh, that Paula really was a witch. What an unkind thing to say!
‘Well, I don’t believe it, Marilyn. Maybe Olivier lost his temper and Paula got it wrong.’
‘You think I can act, don’t you, Colin?’
I sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Here we go again. How insecure can one person be?
‘No, I don’t think you can act! Not in the sense Olivier means. And thank God you can’t. I’m fed up with Olivier implying that there is only one way to act – and that’s his way, of course. Olivier can give great performances, but most of the time he’s doing nothing more than dazzling impersonations, brilliant caricatures. He’s a great stage actor. He can reach out across the footlights and hypnotise an audience into believing anything he wants. He loves to use tricks, false noses and funny wigs. He knows his craft backwards, and he carefully plans how to shock, and to seduce, and to beguile. But as soon as he has to be an ordinary person, he’s dreadful. It’s as if he needs some special exaggeration – a dagger, a hunchback, a false eye – in order to exist. Without them, he looks awkward and self-conscious. In his early films he was embarrassing.’
‘I saw Vivien Leigh in Gone with the Wind,’ said Marilyn. ‘She was great.’
‘She was great, Marilyn, because she wasn’t impersonating Scarlett O’Hara in the film, she was Scarlett O’Hara. She knew exactly how Scarlett O’Hara would have felt. She got right inside the part. Olivier can’t imagine that. He can put on a character and take it off like a suit of clothes, without any effort at all. That works fine for the stage, but you can’t get away with it on film. The movie camera shows up everything. A great movie actor or actress has to be the part, right down into their mind. And that is what you can do, Marilyn. I don’t know how, but you can do it. You are going to steal this picture away from Olivier, and he knows it. Mind you, he is a great man, and in one way I don’t think he minds. I really admire him for that. He can see what you’ve got – I don’t care what Paula says – and he’s prepared to hand you the film on a plate if that will make it a success. He wouldn’t do that unless he knew, deep down, that you were an actress. It’s the same with Marlon Brando. Olivier admires him, but he also fears him. The problem is that neither of you acts the way he acts, and that is very hard for him to understand. And he can probably see that you are the future, which must frighten him a bit.’
‘Oh, Colin. What should I do?’
‘Get to the studio as early as you can, dear Marilyn. No one expects you to behave like a bit-part player, but the film can only be finished if everyone turns up. There are some lovely music sequences coming along, and you enjoy those. And there are some nice scenes where Elsie Marina takes control of the love affair, and those will suit you very well. In fact, I want you to take control of the film. Marilyn Monroe Productions and Laurence Olivier Productions – you’re equal partners, aren’t you? It’s time you put your foot down. Forget about poor little Milton; he’s just a stooge. Forget about Paula; she’s only there to hold your hand, and she’s scared stiff of you anyway. Even forget about Mr Miller. He can’t take the heat. You’ll have plenty of time to make him a good Jewish wife when you’re back in the Bronx. You’ve got to march into that studio and take control. Lay it on the line: “This is the way I want it, and this is the way it is going to be done.” ’
‘Gee, Colin, do you think I could? But I’m too scared. I’m scared that when I get in front of that camera I won’t feel right – that I won’t know what to do. I wish I had a few of those tricks of Sir Laurence’s up my sleeve.’
‘God forbid, Marilyn. Do you want to be a ham like Bette Davis? Of course not! You always know exactly what to do when you’re in front of the camera. You are a natural. An incredible natural talent. Don’t be scared. Enjoy it. Revel in it.’
‘There you go again – you make it sound fun. Why do I get such bad nerves?’
‘Listen, Marilyn. When I left school I went into the air force and became a pilot. I was flying single-seater jet planes every day. When I was in the plane, I was sitting so far forward that I couldn’t even see the wings. And sometimes I would look out into the vast blue sky and think, “Help! What’s keeping me up? Nothing but thin air. Any minute now I’m going to fall twenty thousand
feet into the sea.” Of course I knew all about aerodynamics and that stuff, but for a moment I would panic and my heart would stop. But then I would think, “It’s not for me to worry about that. All I have to do is fly the damn plane. And that I can do, or I wouldn’t be up here on my own in the first place.” Then I would be back in control again; and as you can see, the plane never fell.’
Marilyn clapped her hands. ‘You’re right. I’m going to fly! I can fly! But first I’ve got to be free. Free of all those pills and doctors. Free of everyone.’
‘And free of me.’
‘Oh, Colin, no. Stay a little while. Lie down beside me till I fall asleep. Please. I feel I can’t be alone tonight. Otherwise I’ll have to take the pills. And anyway, I want you to tell me all that stuff again – about being natural, I mean. That’s what I really want to be.’
‘All right, Marilyn. I’ll stay a little while, but for now, let’s get some sleep.’
I turned the light off and lay down in that soft quilt again and closed my eyes.
I heard Marilyn giggle in the dark.
‘Natural. Do you think you and I could ever be natural together, one day?’
‘Perhaps, Marilyn. When the film is over, perhaps. It would be nice.’
‘Mmm,’ said Marilyn. She reached out, took my hand and held it. ‘Natural is nice . . .’
Less than an hour later, she was awake again.
‘Colin! Colin!’ she cried.
I sat bolt upright in the darkness and fumbled desperately for the light. I had fallen asleep on top of the bed and, thank goodness, fully dressed. I had not even taken off my shoes.
‘It hurts. It hurts.’
Marilyn lay on her back, clutching her stomach. She was as pale as a ghost.
‘What’s the matter?’ I reached out and put my hand against her cheek. She didn’t seem to have a fever. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s cramp. I’ve got cramps. It’s terrible. Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!’
‘What is it, Marilyn?’
‘The baby! I’m going to lose the baby.’
‘The baby? What baby? Are you having a baby?’ I simply could not comprehend what was going on.