by Colin Clark
For the first time since I had known her, Marilyn began to weep. I had never seen so much as the sign of a tear in the studio, even when Olivier was at his worst. I suppose I thought of her as someone whose life had been such a struggle, who had known so much pain as a child, that she would never allow herself to cry again.
‘Poor Marilyn,’ I said, as gently as I could. ‘Tell me about the baby.’
‘It was Arthur’s,’ Marilyn said, between sobs. ‘It was for him. He didn’t know. It was going to be a surprise. Then he would see that I could be a real wife, and a real mother.’
A mother – I could hardly believe it.
‘How long have you been pregnant?’
‘Just a few weeks, I guess. At least, my period is a couple of weeks late. And I didn’t dare mention it to anyone, in case it wasn’t true. Ow!’ Another spasm gripped Marilyn’s tummy. She was clearly in terrible pain.
‘I’m going to lose the baby. Maybe it’s a punishment because I’ve been having such a good time.’
‘Nonsense, Marilyn. We didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all. I’d better tell Roger to call a doctor right away. And he’d better tell Milton too – only you are not to take any pills. Shall I get Paula and Hedda too?’
‘Don’t tell them about the baby, Colin. I always have cramps when my period is due. They’re used to that. This seems just much worse, that’s all.’
‘OK. But you’d better tell the doctor about it when he comes. I’ll be right back.’
‘Please come back soon, Colin. Please don’t leave me alone.’
I rushed out of the room and down the corridor to Roger’s bedroom, and turned on the light.
‘Roger! Wake up at once. It’s Miss Monroe. She’s ill.’
‘What’s the trouble?’ Roger was out of bed in a flash, and pulling on his trousers and shirt.
‘You’d better call a doctor at once. She’s not seriously ill, but she’s in a lot of pain. The telephone operator will know the name of a local doctor who’s on call at night. Try to find someone who’ll come right now. Then, and only then, can you wake Paula and Hedda and send them along. And call Milton too, I suppose. In the meantime I’ll be holding Marilyn’s hand.’
Roger shot off downstairs to the telephone and I went back to the bedroom. Marilyn was nowhere to be seen, but there was a light under the bathroom door.
‘Are you OK, Marilyn?’ I called. ‘Roger is talking to a doctor right now. He’ll be here very soon.’
Marilyn let out a cry. ‘Ooh! I’m bleeding so much.’
‘Listen carefully, Marilyn, this is important. Don’t lock the bathroom door. If it’s already locked, as soon as you can, reach out and unlock it. Even if you have to crawl on your hands and knees. I promise I won’t come in. I won’t let anyone in. But you might faint, and the doctor has to be able to get in as soon as he comes.
‘Oh, Colin!’
I heard a shuffling noise and some groans, and then a click as the bolt was pulled back.
‘Good girl.’
Roger appeared at the bedroom door.
‘The doctor’s on his way. I’m going to call Paula and then Milton. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.’
‘Hang in there, Marilyn,’ I called out. ‘The doctor’s on his way. Try to take it easy if you can.’
‘It’s not the pain, it’s the baby. I should have stayed in bed for a few weeks.’
‘Marilyn, if it’s not to be, this time round, it’s not to be. You and Arthur are just beginning. You’ll have plenty of time after the film is finished. Don’t upset yourself too much. What will be, will be.’
At that moment Paula hurled herself into the room, and I had to jump in front of the bathroom door to stop her from bursting in.
‘Marilyn! Marilyn! My baby! What has Colin done to you?’
‘Colin’s done nothing, Paula,’ said Marilyn through the door. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m just having a very bad period, that’s all.’
Paula glared at me.
‘We’ve done nothing wrong at all,’ I said firmly. ‘Trust me, Paula. No one is to blame. Poor Marilyn isn’t ill. It’s her monthly cramps, that’s all. The doctor is coming just in case.’
Paula slumped down beside me on the carpet, ever the tragedienne.
‘Marilyn, Marilyn. What can I do? Why isn’t Arthur here? He should be by your side. Colin is a nice boy, but he isn’t your husband. Oh dear, oh dear, you’ll have to cancel the film now.’ She sounded exactly like a typical Jewish mum.
Roger was the next person to appear at the bedroom door. ‘I’ve telephoned Milton,’ he said. ‘He’s on his way too. Soon we’ll have the whole bloody circus here. I’ll go down and wait for the doctor.’
It was not long before we heard a car drive up outside.
‘The doctor’s here,’ I called through the door.
But it wasn’t. It was Milton.
‘What in God’s name is going on, Colin? What have you two been up to? Where’s Marilyn? Why isn’t the doctor here yet? You should have called him before you called me.’
‘Marilyn’s in the bathroom, and she does not want anyone to go in. Repeat, not,’ I said severely, looking at Paula, who had stood up. ‘No one is to go near her until the doctor arrives. I promised Marilyn I’d personally bar the door.’
There were occasional groans coming from the other side, and Milton and Paula were both desperate to investigate further, but mercifully, at that moment another car could be heard, and soon Roger appeared with an amiable-looking elderly man.
‘Now then, where is the patient? What on earth are you all doing here?’
‘The patient is Miss Monroe you see, and . . .’ gabbled Milton and Paula at once.
‘The patient is in the bathroom here,’ I said loudly. ‘And all of us are now going downstairs.’ I started shepherding them out like a lot of bleating sheep. ‘My name is Colin Clark, doctor,’ I said over my shoulder. ‘The bathroom door is unlocked. We will leave Miss Monroe to you.’
And we left.
‘This is Dr Connell,’ I heard him say as I closed the door. ‘May I come in?’
Downstairs in the hall Milton and Paula looked at each other, and me, with equal hostility.
‘This is absolutely nothing to do with me,’ I said. ‘I was simply waiting for Marilyn to fall asleep before I went home. She’d been complaining of stomach cramps, and didn’t want to be left alone. Then she said she was feeling worse, so I told Roger to call a doctor.’
There didn’t seem anything else to say, so no one spoke. Soon, to my relief, we were joined by a sleepy Hedda Rosten. Hedda sometimes to get tipsy in the evenings, but she is a nice, motherly lady, and is not part of the film world. If anyone could help to calm down Marilyn, it would be Hedda.
There was an uncomfortable fifteen minutes of foot-shuffling and hand-wringing before the doctor came downstairs.
‘Is Miss Monroe’s husband here? No? Well, which of you is in charge?’
We all stepped forward.
The doctor raised his eyebrows. It was very late at night.
‘Well, Miss Monroe is in no danger. I’ve given her an injection and the bleeding has stopped, and she is going to sleep. I suggest that you ladies’ – he frowned at Milton and me – ‘take it in turns to stay with her. She should stay in bed tomorrow for the whole day, but after that she should be fine. I’ll come back to see her at lunchtime.’
There was a huge sigh of relief from us all. Paula and Hedda went upstairs immediately to inspect their charge and decide who slept where. I suspect Paula wanted to ensure that she was the first person Marilyn saw when she awoke.
‘Let me walk you out to your car, doctor,’ I said.
‘Me too,’ said Milton, anxious not to leave me alone with anyone, ever again.
‘You weren’t surprised to find that your patient was Miss Marilyn Monroe, doctor?’ I asked as we got out into the fresh night air.
‘Oh, no, Mr Clark. My wife is the head of the Sadler’s Wells Bal
let, so I’m used to leading ladies.’
‘The head of the Sadler’s Wells Ballet? I must know her then. My father is on the board of the Opera House. What’s your wife’s name?’
‘Oh, no,’ Milton groaned. ‘Here we go again. Isn’t there anyone you don’t know, Colin?’
‘She is called Ninette de Valois,’ said the doctor.
‘Oh, how lovely! Of course I know Ninette. I admire her enormously. What a coincidence. Do give her my love. Tell her from one of the Clark twins.’
‘I will. And what are you doing here, Mr Clark, if I may ask, in Miss Monroe’s house at two o’clock in the morning?’
‘I’m working on the film Miss Monroe is making at Pinewood Studios, and I’m, er, a friend of Miss Monroe’s as well.’
‘And Miss Monroe’s husband? I presume she has a husband?’
‘He’s in America. I think.’
‘Oh, really? And how long has he been gone?’
‘Oh, a week. Six days, to be exact. And the baby, doctor?’
Milton looked completely stunned.
‘Oh, you know about that, do you? Well, it’s true. Miss Monroe was about three weeks pregnant, I would say. Not now, of course. But she can always try again. It isn’t the end of the world. I must be off. Goodnight, gentlemen.’
And he climbed into his car and drove away.
‘I’d better be going too,’ I said.
‘Yes, Colin, you had. I told you it would end in tears.’
‘My conscience is clear, Milton.’ I said. ‘No tears from me. I’m sad for Marilyn, of course, although I find it hard to think of her as a mum.’
‘Perhaps, Colin . . .’
‘I’ll tell you what, Milton. I’m going to see Marilyn once more, tomorrow. Just once, I promise. After that I’ll vanish back into the scenery. OK, Milton? Goodnight.’
The fairy story had ended, as dramatically as it had begun.
WEDNESDAY, 19 SEPTEMBER
‘Marilyn, darling, the time has come to say goodbye.’
As I drove over to Parkside House the next day I knew exactly what I had to say. Somehow I had an image of Marilyn, reclining on a garden bench in the shade of a beech tree, wrapped in her white towelling robe. I would walk across the lawn towards her. She would be very pale, lying there with her eyes closed, very quiet but not asleep.
‘Marilyn, darling . . .’ I rehearsed it again. One thing was certain: she must wipe our friendship from her mind completely. I had telephoned Milton from the studio at eight a.m., and he had told me that Arthur Miller was returning that very afternoon, five days earlier than planned. He had heard of last night’s happenings from Hedda, I suppose, and while I did not think she would have mentioned me, there was a very real danger that Marilyn might, just to make him jealous. Added to this, she could sometimes be mischievous. ‘I kissed Colin,’ she had said to Milton, just to tease him, and she had thought it highly amusing, although Milton – and I – had not. Milton had warned me that if Marilyn ever became dependent on anyone, she tended to add them to her retinue without too much thought of the consequences. She thought nothing of having two psychoanalysts, two dramatic coaches, or two Hollywood agents at the same time. She had sometimes had two lovers simultaneously in the past, as Milton himself could testify. It wasn’t that she was duplicitous or cunning. It was simply that she really didn’t think it was important. She seemed incapable of comprehending the effect she had on those who surrounded her, and how much she meant to them; this even applied to her husbands, I suspect.
I had made sure that I was at the studios earlier than usual, and that I was waiting outside the dressing rooms when Olivier arrived.
‘Morning, boy.’ Olivier’s usual greeting. ‘Marilyn here yet? Is she going to surprise us again?’
‘I’m afraid not, Sir Laurence. She was taken seriously ill in the middle of the night. Well, it looked serious, anyway. A doctor had to be called, and he said she must stay in bed all day.’
‘Good gracious. Bed all day? That sounds bad. And what illness did the doctor diagnose?’
‘It turns out that it’s only a very bad period. But Marilyn was in considerable pain, and she lost a lot of blood.’
I wasn’t going to mention the baby. That was something private between Marilyn and Arthur.
‘I see. Josh Logan warned me about that possibility. Evidently she always needs a day off once a month. We allowed for that in the schedule. But of course we’ve used up all that time by now. Whatever next?’
‘Milton tells me that Arthur is returning from New York this afternoon. I’m sure that will help. Marilyn told me she’s going to work especially hard every day from now on, like she did yesterday, and I think she’s serious. Her relationship with Arthur was a bit frantic when they first arrived, and his departure gave her a terrible shock. I think she’ll concentrate on her career for a while now. At least until this film is finished.’
‘I hope you’re right, Colin.’
‘And it’s time I got out of the equation, Larry. So with your permission I’ll go over to Parkside this morning and make that clear. Not that there has been anything improper between Marilyn and me, but I wouldn’t want Arthur to misunderstand.’
‘No, quite so. You run along. Try to find out if she’ll be in tomorrow. Please assure her that we all want to finish this film as soon as possible. Personally I wish I’d never set eyes on the woman, but don’t tell her that.’
What a pity it is that Olivier never let himself get to know Marilyn properly, I thought, as I drove to Parkside House. This could have been a great film, and a wonderful experience for all of us.
Marilyn was awake, Roger told me when I arrived, and the house was full of people as usual. She was in the bedroom – so much for my shaded lawn – and I did not have the courage to go in unannounced. It was nearly an hour before Paula took pity on me, and called me upstairs.
‘Marilyn, it’s Colin. Do you want to see him?’
That was bad. I hadn’t needed an introduction yesterday.
‘Sure. Oh, hi, Colin. Come on in. Now, don’t say you’ve come to say goodbye.’
How did she read my mind so accurately? You could never tell with Marilyn.
‘You’re not going anywhere, are you? I’ve decided I want to finish the film as quickly as possible. Why, it was you who told me I must do that. And Paula is going back to the States soon to get a new permit or something, so I’ll need you to hold my hand as well as Sir Laurence.’
‘I’m sorry, Marilyn,’ I said, taking no notice of Paula, who had sat down beside me, ‘but I don’t think you should even catch my eye after today, let alone hold my hand. Mr Miller is coming back this afternoon, and it’s so important that he doesn’t find out that we’re friends, or have been friends over this past week. We both know that we did nothing wrong. We know that we just had fun and enjoyed each other’s company. But Mr Miller might find that very hard to understand. He might think that while the cat was away, the mice were behaving like rats.’
Marilyn gave a weak laugh.
‘I guess you’re right, Colin. He never seemed to mind about that sort of thing in the old days, but he’s much more intense now.’
‘Marilyn, darling, you are his wife now. And I don’t care what you say about the note you read on his desk – he worships you. Just as I do.’
Marilyn sighed.
‘The trouble is that you never can believe how wonderful you are,’ I said. ‘I suppose it’s because of your childhood. You assume that everything nice is going to be taken away from you in the end, so you’re frightened to get your hopes up.’
‘I adore Arthur, too,’ said Marilyn in a whisper. ‘I really do. He’s so strong, and so wise. And he’s a gentleman. He always treated me like a lady. I wanted to marry him from when I first saw him in Hollywood, all those years ago . . .’ She paused.
‘I think you’re made for each other,’ I lied. ‘You need someone who takes you seriously. Who sees what a great person you are. No ordinary man co
uld do that.’
Marilyn looked relieved. ‘Gee, Colin. You make me feel better right away.’
‘You are great, Marilyn. And you are going to have a great career, and a great life. Mind you, after this production is over you must be more careful which films you decide to make. Maybe you should take Mr Strasberg’s advice. Not about your day-to-day routine, but about scripts. He knows a lot about scripts.’
Paula beamed, suddenly my ally for life. She got up and went to the door. ‘I’ll leave you with Colin now,’ she said.
‘When this picture is over,’ Marilyn went on, ‘I’m going to settle down and be a good wife to Arthur. I’m going to learn to make matzo-ball soup just as good as his dad’s. I’m not going to make any other movies until I’ve shown Arthur I can look after him. He’ll never want to leave me again, that’s for sure.’
‘So you see why it’s so important that he shouldn’t suspect that there was anything between us?’
‘Nothing serious. He wouldn’t think that, would he? That would be terrible.’
‘Well, he might. So you must be very careful. You must say nothing at all.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Nothing. Just imagine what his reaction would be if he thought that I’d done something which had resulted in you losing his baby.’
Marilyn gasped.
‘I’m sorry to be so blunt, Marilyn, and we both know that I didn’t do any such thing. But just imagine. What would he say? What might he do? I know what would happen if our parts were reversed and you were my wife.’
Marilyn opened her eyes wide.
‘I’d kill him.’
‘Oh, Colin.’ Marilyn began to sob quietly. ‘I love Arthur so much. How can I show him? How can I convince him? Do you think I can ever give him a child? Do you think he wants a child? We’ve never discussed it. I know he’d be a wonderful father. Why, he’s like a father to me. I’ll never lose him. I’ll make it all up to him. I’ll never disappoint him again.’
‘Of course you won’t, Marilyn. And I don’t think you ever have. He’s frightened now, just as you are. You are both artists, great artists. Did you think it was going to be easy? Great artists need other artists in their lives. It takes one to understand one. But they will always clash – every now and then. A great writer like Mr Miller needs to be selfish in order to create his masterpiece. And so do you. Sure, an actor like Olivier can just walk out on the stage and play a part. But when you give a great performance, you actually become the person; you feel their joy and feel their pain. That is an incredible strain, but that is what makes you a star.’