Malice (Rina Walker Book 3)

by Hugh Fraser

  We get to the end and Mike is dead pleased. He tells us where we should go a bit slower in a couple of places and build up the argument at the end a bit more gradually. We play the scene again with those changes and when we finish he says it’s really good and asks us if we feel ready to film it. We say we do and he explains how he’s going to shoot it and he tells me that we’ll do it a few times with the camera in different places, then he opens the door and calls to Ed that he’s ready to shoot.

  The crew come in and watch us rehearse the scene again, with the bit with the baby added on at the beginning, and then Ed tells Kim and me to wait on the landing while they set up. Kirsty offers to bring us tea and one of the crew puts chairs against the wall for us, as the mother and baby come up the stairs, to be greeted by Ed and taken onto the set.

  ‘I’m sorry about the false start there,’ I say to Kim.

  ‘Please don’t apologise. I forget my lines all the time.’

  ‘But you’ve done so much.’

  ‘Every time I start a job I feel as if I’ve never acted before.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘God’s truth.’

  I know she’s only saying it to make me feel better but I appreciate it all the same.

  ‘First days are horrible,’ she says.

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘Without fail. I’m always convinced that I’m going to get found out this time.’

  She’s saying all this with a slight smile and I really can’t tell if she means it or not. Colette appears with her makeup bag and starts to touch up Kim’s black eye and bruises. She gives me a quick dust over with powder and Kirsty tells us they are ready for us on the set.

  Mike explains that they will do the whole scene as a master shot and then how it’s going to be broken up for the different camera angles after that. I see the mother sitting by Jean in the corner and I go over, introduce myself to her, ask the baby’s name and if I can hold her. She gives me the baby and tells me her name’s Susan. She’s a lovely little thing and I get a smile from her when I stroke her cheek. Mike sees me with her. ‘Ah, good Rina, I see you’re forming a relationship with Amanda.’

  ‘She’s lovely,’ I say.

  ‘Indeed she is. By the way, the crying will be on tape, but will be cut when you start to speak, so you’ll have to imagine it thereafter. Unless of course young Susan chooses to give tongue herself at that point.’

  ‘I understand,’ I say.

  ‘If you’d like to put her in the cot, I believe we’re about ready to go.’

  He gives a nod to Ed, who checks with Ken and the soundman and tells us to stand by. I put the baby down gently in the cot and as I let go she starts to cry. I look at Mike and he shakes his head and points to the door. Once I’m outside I hear him say, ‘Action,’ and the baby stops crying. I’m not sure what to do so I wait a bit and then I hear a different baby crying, which I suppose is the tape, so I go in, cross to the cot, pick up the real baby and she starts crying again.

  ‘Cut!’ shouts Mike. He turns to the soundman. ‘Forget the tape. All right?’

  The soundman nods and Mike looks at me. ‘Just come in and pick her up, whether she’s crying or not, and we’ll put it on afterwards if necessary.’

  She’s still crying and I want to go to her now but Ed gives the stand by call again so I go outside. Mike says ‘Action,’ and the crying stops. I enter, go to the cot, pick her up, give her the soothing dialogue and she stays silent. When I see Mary on the sofa and put her back in the cot, she starts crying again.

  ‘Cut!’ says Mike. He’s red in the face now and clearly not happy.

  Ed comes forward. ‘If we cut where the baby goes back in the basket, take it away and pick up from the look at the sofa, we’ll get a clean track.’

  Mike shakes his head. ‘I don’t want to cut there.’

  ‘If you’re not going to cut you’ll have to post-sync all of Rina’s dialogue,’ says Ed.

  ‘And Kim’s,’ says the soundman.

  They’ve lost me completely. Mike paces back and forth with his eyes closed for a bit and then he stops. ‘All right. We cut there, do a close up of the baby going into the cot and then we’re on a close up of Rina’s look at Mary,’ says Mike.

  I haven’t a clue what they’re on about but everyone seems happy with the plan and we do it again. This time the baby cries when Mike says action and stops when I calm her down and put her in the cot. We stop there and Mike looks even more frustrated but we go on and do another couple of takes and then the rest of the scene with Kim. I’ve noticed that with all the stopping and starting I’m not feeling nervous at all. I just need to think about our Jack for a moment before I go to the baby and then, when I really look at Kim’s damaged face and listen to what she’s saying to me, the right feeling seems to come over me.

  By the end of the day we’ve done it so many times and from so many angles that I’m knackered. Mike says he’s really pleased with it and that I won’t be needed again until the day after tomorrow at the high rise flat in Islington. Another assistant called Bonnie asks me if I want a car back to London in the morning and I tell her I’m going to drive myself. She asks for my phone number so she can tell me the schedule and pick-up time for Islington but I decide to be careful, just in case it’s not safe for me to be at home, and I tell her I’m staying with a friend whose number I don’t know. Bonnie gives me hers and I agree to phone her later to get the call time.

  I share a car to the hotel with Kim and we have a good laugh about Mike’s prima donna side and she tells me that she enjoyed acting with me today, which makes me feel good. When we get to the Grand she suggests having a meal together. I’d really like to get to know her, but I reckon the sooner I put some distance between me and Brindle and his chums the better, so I tell her I have to drive to London tonight and suggest we go out together soon.

  I go up to my room, put Rebecca and my few bits and pieces in a carrier bag and go back down to reception, to pay the bill. As the girl is adding up my account, Don the producer gets out of the lift and comes over. ‘Checking out?’

  ‘I have to get back tonight,’ I say.

  ‘That’s a shame, I was hoping we could have dinner.’

  ‘Another time, perhaps.’

  ‘Absolutely. How did it go today?’

  ‘Quite well, I think,’ I reply.

  ‘I look forward to seeing it.’

  The girl lays my bill on the counter and I have a quick look at it and open my handbag. Don picks it up, glances at it and turns to the receptionist. ‘Charge this to Millbank Films.’

  He takes out a pen, signs the bill and hands it over the desk. The receptionist takes it and puts it in a file. I’m relieved Don hasn’t noticed the false name I signed in with.

  ‘That’s kind, thank you,’ I say.

  Don walks with me to the front door. ‘I just realised, you’ve just done your first day and we haven’t even talked about your fee.’

  It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d be paid to be in the film and if I can get to Brindle I doubt if I’ll be around to collect my wages.

  ‘Do you have an agent?’ he asks.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you want to get one?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘How would it be if we offered you the same as we’d agreed to pay the lady you’re replacing?’

  ‘Sounds fair,’ I reply.

  ‘I’d have to look it up to make sure, but from memory I think it was four hundred pounds.’

  ‘That’ll be fine.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. I wish it was always this simple to negotiate fees with actors. You wouldn’t believe the bullshit I get from agents sometimes. My client this… my client that… it can take weeks to agree a deal.’

  ‘Sounds frustrating.’

  ‘Believe me, shooting the film is the easy bit.’

  He opens the door for me. ‘See you in Islington.’

 
; ‘Bye,’ I say, as I head for the car.

  19

  The Hillman is getting on a bit and she makes hard work of the trip out of Birmingham, through an area called Spark Brook, and on towards Coventry. She won’t do much more than sixty-five on the motorway and the radio’s dead, so I sit back and try not to fall asleep after what feels like a long day. It’s almost dark and I’m looking forward to getting home, and hoping Lizzie’s there, when I glance in the mirror and notice a van coming up quite fast in the middle lane and then slowing down and pulling in behind me. I let him sit there for a bit then I move into the middle lane and he does the same. I go back to the inside and when he follows I take the gun out of my handbag and lay it on my lap.

  I go on for a few miles with the van behind me until I see a sign for the exit to Northampton. I leave the motorway at the slip road and the van follows me. When I come to a roundabout I take the road to Northampton and turn off onto a country lane with the van close behind. After a few twists and turns I get to a straight downhill run and floor the accelerator. The car surges forward and the van drops back and then catches up quickly. At the bottom of the hill I brace myself against the wheel and stamp on the brake. The van rams into the back of me and we shudder to a stop. I grab the gun, open the door, hit the tarmac, roll into the gutter and fire three shots at the van. The windscreen shatters, the driver’s door opens and a man staggers out and falls onto the road. I hear the back doors open, a shot’s fired and a bullet whistles past me. I claw my way through a hedge and run across a ploughed field. There are voices behind me and I’m barely making headway across the muddy soil when I see a row of small huts with pointed roofs ahead of me. I can hear my pursuers gaining on me as I reach one of the huts and crouch down behind it. I look over the top and make out a shape coming towards me out of the darkness. I aim a shot at him, he goes down face first in the mud and another shape appears beside him. I fire again but the shape keeps coming. I turn, run towards a line of trees and fall arse over tit into a trench. As I struggle to get up, hands grab my shoulders and ankles. I roll over, kick out with both feet, get one of them in the stomach and he falls. The other one lands on top of me and goes for my neck. I grab his hand, put a finger in my mouth, bite it hard and while he’s screaming like a little boy, I push him off me and get up. As he rolls on his back I stamp on his bollocks, kick him in the head and hoof it back towards the road. I can hear the other one coming after me but I manage to stay on my feet and get through the hedge. He’s too close behind for me to make it to the car so I take the knife out of my boot and crouch down in the ditch. When he comes out of the hedge I stand up, plunge the blade into his stomach and he falls into the ditch moaning.

  I go to the van and pull on the handbrake. The Hillman’s still ticking over, so I get in and put it in gear. There’s a screeching sound as I let the clutch out and the back of the car tries to tear itself away from the front of the van and fails. After a couple more attempts, I get out and have a look at the damage. The front of the van has pushed the rear end of the car right into the back seat, the tail lights are a few bits of glass on the road and the Hillman’s going nowhere.

  I get my carrier bag out of the car, wipe it over for prints and run up the lane towards the main road. When I reckon I’ve put enough distance between me and the enemy, I slow down to a walk and think about how I’m going to get home. I’ll never find a cab out here so I’ll have to try and get a lift to a station. When I get to the main road I turn towards Northampton, walk along for a bit, until I’m out of sight of the turning into the lane, and put my thumb out.

  A few cars pass and then a grey Morris 8 slows down and I can see the driver having a look at me. He stops, reaches over and opens the passenger door. He’s a tubby middle-aged man in a tweed suit, with grey wavy hair, a blotchy red face and piggy eyes.

  ‘Need a lift?’

  ‘Are you going to Northampton?’

  ‘I am indeed.’

  ‘Anywhere near the station?’

  ‘Right past it. Hop in.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  I get in, close the door and he takes his eyes off my body and drives.

  ‘What happened?’ he asks.

  ‘My car broke down.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘My brother’s a mechanic and he’ll come and get it in the morning.’

  ‘That’s handy.’

  After we’ve driven in silence for a bit I feel his hand on my leg. After what I’ve just been through he’s lucky that I just put it back on the steering wheel, shift along the seat and cross my legs.

  ‘Sorry. I thought that was the gearstick,’ he says.

  ‘I’m often mistaken for one,’ I reply.

  He laughs. ‘I hope you won’t blame me for trying. You are extremely beautiful.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You won’t tell your brother, will you?’

  ‘Not if you drop me at the station.’

  On the way, he tells me about how his wife left him for a younger bloke, and his business is going down the tubes, and he’s got a bad heart, and he’s lonely and depressed, and I’m just about losing the will to live when we get to the station and he stops the car. I wish him luck, thank him for the lift and head for the ticket office.

  There’s a train to London in half an hour and I buy a first class ticket and head for the station bar. As I walk in I get a couple of strange looks and I catch sight of myself in a wall mirror and see that my face and my jacket and jeans are muddy from the field. I go to the ladies and clean myself up as much as I can, then I go back to the bar, down a large whisky and then another one. The train is announced on the speakers and I go to the platform, find the first class carriage, settle back in my seat and close my eyes.

  • • •

  I’m flying through the air in a white van. I’m at the wheel and I can see miles of ploughed fields far below. I swoop and dive and climb up again and I’m loving flying the van through sky and then the bodies in the back are waking up and clawing at the metal grill between us and snarling at me. I pull the wheel back hard and we go into a steep climb. I press a button on the dash and the back doors fly open and the men all slide along the floor and fall out, screaming as they plunge down through the air, making strange shapes on the muddy fields when they land and then a pack of wolves are on them and tearing them apart and eating them. I hear laughter and I look round and Kim, with her lovely red hair, is on the seat next to me. She comes close, puts her arm round me and whispers sweet things in my ear and then she’s stroking my stomach and then her hand moves between my legs and I’m tingling all over and I take the van down to land it in a grassy field and we touch down with a bump.

  ‘Watford Junction,’ says a rasping voice.

  I sit up and look out of the window at a deserted rain-soaked platform. A uniformed guard walks past the window. I watch him go all the way along the curve of the platform until he reaches the end of the train, where he blows his whistle, raises a flag and gets on board. The engine gives a long sigh and then chuffs and puffs and pulls us on towards London.

  I’m wondering if it’s safe to go home. Brindle’s going to get the news about his men getting shafted and he could well put the Teales after me, or whoever else he’s got in London. I really want to get home and see Lizzie but I decide to be careful and when we get to Euston I take a cab to Covent Garden and tell him to drop me on the corner of Shelton Street where I know there are a couple of small hotels. I walk along the street until I see one called The Vincent, which looks suitably discreet, and I go up the steps and into reception. The clock on the wall says midnight and the man behind the desk is half asleep, but he rouses himself enough to book me into a room that costs seventeen and six. He gives me a key, tells me where the bathroom is, and I go up the stairs and let myself into the room. After the Grand in Birmingham it’s pretty bare and basic with a narrow double bed, a wardrobe, a small dressing table and an upright chair. There’s a phone on the bedside table so I wake the receptionis
t again and ask him to call Lizzie’s number.

  Just when I’m about to hang up she answers. I tell her where I am and ask her if she’ll come over. I think she senses that I might be in danger, and like the diamond she is, she says she’ll be on her way once she’s squared it with Gerald. I put the phone down, pick it up again, ask the man to get me Bonnie’s number and when I get through she tells me my pick up time is 2pm on the day after tomorrow. I call reception again, ask if I can buy a bottle of whisky and he says he’ll bring one up to the room. I take my leather jacket off, put it on the back of the chair and lie on the bed, until there’s a knock at the door and the bloke’s there with a bottle of Johnnie Walker. I tell him I’m expecting a visitor and I’ll need two glasses.

  ‘You never said you was working,’ he says.

  ‘It’s just a friend.’

  ‘That’s what they all say. It’s a quid extra.’

  ‘It’s a woman.’

  ‘I don’t care if it’s a fucking donkey.’

  As it’s quite possible Lizzie’ll stay the night I take a pound note out of my pocket and give it to him.

  ‘And fifteen bob for the whisky,’ he says.

  I give him a quid to keep him sweet and he thanks me, lumbers off downstairs and comes back with another glass.

  I pour myself a good drink, take Rebecca out of the carrier bag, lie on the bed and read about our girl breaking a glass ornament in the drawing room and being too embarrassed to admit it, and then owning up, after horrible Mrs Danvers blames a servant, and how husband Maxim thinks the whole thing’s funny, even though she’s really upset about it, and she tells him how uneducated and out of place she feels. Maxim tries to reassure her but she’s worried that the marriage is going to fail. Just as I’m thinking she’d be better off out of it, I hear a tap on the door and I jump off the bed and open it. I look at Lizzie and feel such a wave of relief and love that I have to pull her inside and throw my arms round her. We hold each other and kiss and I’m so grateful she’s here I start to cry. She sits me on the bed.