Their Exits and their Entrances: The New Chronicles of Barset: Book Two

by ILIL ARBEL

  Emma had met Miss Moonshadow at the party, but they had not had a chance to talk at any length. She was struck by her beauty. It was not easy for anyone to get used to the sheer number of incredibly beautiful people in Hollywood. Emma used to think about herself as an attractive girl, and indeed she was, but her delicate style could not compete with the flash and glamour of the many starlets she met, and she began to feel intimidated by them. However, her work with Miss Skull, which she had recently started, improved her mood considerably. Very quickly she realized that Miss Skull, her true idol, viewed the beautiful girls as fodder to her own talents, and nothing else. They were to be dressed, to show off the creations she, Miss Skull, had given to an admiring world; in themselves, they did not matter at all. Emma, young as she was, tried to emulate the attitude and it restored her confidence to an extent, at least at work. But here she was at home, confronted with the ever-present possibility, at least in her own mind, that Edmond would be struck by the great attraction of a stranger, and she was not comfortable with the feeling. To relieve it, she started talking to Miss Moonshadow.

  “What a lovely suit, Miss Moonshadow. Did you get it at the studio?”

  “I don’t know,” said Miss Moonshadow. “Mrs. Lewis brought it to me and told me to wear it. She does not approve of the clothes I brought from Peoria. Do you really like it?”

  “Oh, yes. It is extremely well designed,” said Emma, eyeing it professionally.

  “I don’t know much about design, Miss Lover,” said Miss Moonshadow, “but I would never wear such a thing in Peoria. I like a different kind of dress when I go out, you know, the big skirts with the net petticoats, and more colour to it … this white is so boring.”

  “The white suits your coloration very well,” said Emma, considering her.

  “I don’t know. They dress me as if I were an old woman… and the haircut… oh, this haircut is so horrible. I used to have long hair, with curls, and look at this, they cut it so short, like a man. I hate it.”

  “This is the most fashionable hairdo in Paris,” said Emma, who thought the hairdo fitted Miss Moonshadow’s shapely head to perfection and emphasized her exotic features. “Have you ever seen Leslie Caron and Zizi Jeanmaire, you know, the great ballerinas? They wear their hair a-la-garcon, just like you, and it’s smashing.”

  “I don’t know any ballerinas. If Daddy saw my hair he would be furious. But of course he told me to do what the studios say, Miss Lover, so I do. Ah, well, I see Miss Tudor is calling me. They want to talk to me about something, Mrs. Lewis said, I don’t know what. I don’t quite understand their plans…” She left the room.

  Mrs. Rivers, who was left to preside over a second tea for the newcomers, poured out for everyone. “Would you like another cup, Julian?” she asked.

  “No, but I will have another scone,” said Julian, and proceeded to cover one with cream and jam, “and then I must be going. I am very busy.”

  “His exhibition is to be opened soon,” explained Mrs. River.

  “Really, mother, I am sure they all know about the exhibition,” said Julian wearily and looked at her with an exasperated expression. “Everyone knows about the exhibition.” He stuffed the rest of the scone into his mouth.

  “What exhibition?” asked Rush Yukon. “Who is exhibiting? Are you an artist?”

  “Haven’t you heard about me and the Group of Five?” asked Julian. “You must know very little about art if you did not.”

  “I am not very well educated, as I always say,” said Rush with utmost good nature. “But I think I know a thing or two about artists. Perhaps I am more familiar with American artists.”

  “No such thing as American artists,” said Julian curtly. “At least, not good ones. Well, I must be off. Mother, tell this girl, what’s her name, I will still be willing to paint her if she will come to my hotel.” He turned and left rather abruptly, still chewing on his scone. Mrs. Rivers sighed. “He’ll never learn any manners, I am afraid,” she said. “I am sorry, Mr. Yukon.”

  “No harm done,” said Rush pleasantly. “But I suggest you make it clear to him that he must leave Miss Moonshadow alone. I don’t think Mrs. Lewis would like his interest in the girl, nor would Mr. Goldwasser.”

  “I’ll speak to him,” said Mrs. Rivers, knowing full well she would never dare. “Will you forgive me if I go to my room to rest? I am suddenly very tired. Emma, would you pour if anyone wants a second cup?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Rivers,” said Emma. She felt bad for Mrs. Rivers and rather disliked Julian.

  “So what do you think about Miss Moonshadow, Edmond?” asked Rush when Mrs. Rivers left.

  “She is very beautiful, but she seems rather stupid to me,” said Edmond. “I understand they want to promote her, but unless she learns how to talk, they won’t have much luck.”

  “Many starlets are dumb,” said Rush.

  “But not the great stars. They have to be shrewd, they have to understand the business,” said Edmond. “Well, I, for one, am not much impressed with her. I spoke to her during the party, and all she could discuss was her high school experiences in Peoria.”

  “Mr. Alcott, on the other hand, seemed rather struck by her,” said Rush.

  “That would help,” said Edmond. “He is quite successful already, and the association of the two up-and-coming stars would be very good for both.”

  Emma, who secretly believed that Maisie was the one for Mr. Alcott, did not like the idea, but she would not betray her friend to the two men. She decided to change the subject, and pulled a new cosmetic out of her purse.

  “Look at this eye shadow, Rush. Miss Tudor just gave it to me,” she said. “It has such a peculiar name – Oleander Reverie – the names they pick here for their cosmetics are truly strange.”

  Rush burst out laughing. “If they knew what oleander can do to you if put it on your skin, they wouldn’t have called it by that name.”

  “Really? I thought oleander was some kind of plant,” said Emma, surprised.

  “It is a plant, and even though it has very nice flowers, it is terribly poisonous. Eating a single leaf would kill a person.”

  “How would you know such a thing?” asked Emma, impressed.

  “Because I recently read a thriller by Anya Seton, and someone there used an oleander leaf to murder his wife. It is called Dragonwyck.”

  “Anya Seton? I love her! I must read this one. But Rush, she writes girls’ novels – how can you stand them? Edmond would not even think about reading one.”

  “I like girls’ novels,” said Rush sheepishly.

  “I don’t understand you, Rush. You like girls’ novels, and clothes, and you understand cosmetics – how come, when you look like some romantic hero from one of these novels yourself?”

  Rush looked helplessly at Edmond, who just sat there throughout the short conversation, smiling quietly to himself. “Edmond, would you please explain to her? I want to tell her, but I don’t know how… but Emma, what is going to be told here is a secret.”

  “Do tell,” said Emma excitedly. “I will never breathe a word to anyone.”

  “Very well,” said Edmond. “I’ll explain to her. Emma, do you remember Miss Hampton? Or rather, have you ever read any of her novels?”

  “Only one,” said Emma. “It was called Chariots of Desire, about the love life of truck drivers. I didn’t quite like it – oh my goodness, oh Rush, I understand now… I am so sorry to have been so stupid…”

  “Nothing to be sorry about, love. I just did not make it clear, since I am so well trained to hide it, and I know I don’t look the part.”

  “I would say you don’t… of course you must keep it a secret. Your audience would not like it.”

  “Does it bother you?” Rush asked with quiet dignity.

  “Not in the least,” said Emma. “Why should it? I am just sorry I did not have the sensitivity to understand you better.”

  “Didn’t you notice that the girls I go out with have been set up for the job by
GMG? Every blessed one of them?”

  “I never thought about it. What if the world found out, Rush?”

  “Big, big trouble. I would very likely never get a decent part again, if you call what I do decent parts… I have to get married, you know. Mr. Goldwasser told me to.”

  “But… who will you marry?”

  “It’s been arranged. I will marry my confidential secretary, Miss Rosemary Lancing. We will stay married for a couple of years, then get an amicable divorce. It will be good for her, too, for the same reason. Rosemary and I are very good friends, so sharing a house for a year or two will be rather pleasant. And of course, I will provide for her friend that she lives with, a very nice young woman. Perhaps we can have her live with us as a trusted companion, if she likes the idea. We will need a huge house, but the fans will love all the gossip about house-hunting for the newlyweds.”

  “Excellent plan,” said Emma with unexpected sophistication that rather impressed Edmond, who thought his naïve fiancée would be shocked by these revelations. Which was silly of him, but most of us never give enough credit to those we love, no matter how much we adore them, but Emma was a loyal friend and a very practical young woman despite her youth.

  “So just remember to keep it a secret,” said Rush. “I am glad you know, though.”

  At this moment Mr. Goldwasser came into the room, alone. “Rush,” he said. “We have been discussing all sort of plans for Miss Moonshadow. The only question remains, should she be going out with you, before we connect her with Alcott? Do you have any objection to assisting with this project?”

  “Not at all, Mr. Goldwasser. I’ll be happy to help. My marriage can be postponed, say for six months?”

  “Yes, that would be good time management. Miss Moonshadow can spend three or four months with you, then you will both break it up and she will move on to Alcott, who would be back from England after the filming of the sequel. And you, of course, will discover that you have been in love with the faithful and lovely Miss Lancing all along, and quickly marry her… Yes, that would be fine. Very well, then, I will go and tell the ladies, and Mrs. Lewis will start working on the scheme right away.”

  “Mr. Goldwasser, did you notice that Miss Moonshadow is a bit of a country bumpkin?” asked Edmond bluntly.

  “Of course I noticed,” said Mr. Goldwasser, laughing. “How can you miss it? Do you know she told me all about the parade in Peoria, when she was the homecoming queen? But we’ll train her. They can train sea lions and poodles, so surely we can train our little Peoria girl… If it does not work out, we’ll approach another starlet. We have plenty of time until Glam really needs to be replaced. We are not even done with Dance We Shall, let alone the sequel to Send Me No Lilies.”

  “You’ll have to leave Miss Moonshadow here while you go to England to film the sequel,” said Edmond. “Would that be safe? She is likely to make a fool of herself.”

  “Mrs. Lewis and Rush will work with her,” said Mr. Goldwasser casually. “She’ll be safe with them.” Edmond and Emma were not so sure, but they trusted Mr. Goldwasser and said nothing.

  ***

  Two days later, Mrs. Rivers, Glamora, and Mr. Goldwasser went to Julian’s exhibition. None of them was particularly interested, least of all Mrs. Rivers who was clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing, but one must be polite and all three of them were very careful of social obligations. Invitations were sent all around, so Mrs. Rivers expected a large crowd, the way it usually was in London when the Group of Five opened an exhibition. To her surprise, the large gallery was practically empty, and they were greeted by a very irate Julian.

  “Would you believe it, Mother, this is half an hour after the time stated, and only five or six people showed up. I don’t understand it.”

  Mr. Goldwasser, who disliked abstract art, and Glamora, who never pretended to understand it, could have told him that the name of the Group of Five was not well established in America and that no one was particularly interested, but they were too polite. “I am sure people will soon show up,” said Mr. Goldwasser, and wandered away to look at the paintings. As far as he was concerned, all the paintings looked exactly alike, he could not tell which artist painted what picture, and he found the exhibition utterly boring. One of Julian’s associates, hoping for a large sale, followed Mr. Goldwasser and started explaining the art to him. Mr. Goldwasser could not get away without being extraordinarily rude, so he accepted his fate and pretended to listen to the artist’s enthusiastic conversation. Why a green triangle should represent the artist’s impression of the “Statue of Liberty, Collapsing Under Its Burden,” Mr. Goldwasser could not tell, anymore than why two big black spots on a purple background would represent the concept of “Freedom and Equality in Mortal Danger,” but he did not comment, just nodded wisely and thought about other matters.

  Julian was getting visibly angrier and angrier. Mrs. Rivers tried to keep away from him, and wandered around the gallery. A few more people came in, most of them unknown to Mrs. Rivers, but including Mrs. Lewis, who was accompanied by Miss Moonshadow, and to Mrs. Rivers’ joy, Denis Stonor. They walked about the gallery, pretending to enjoy the art, and one of the artists approached them with a tray of wine glasses. “Have a drink, ladies and gentlemen,” he said cheerfully, obviously accepting the empty gallery with more grace than Julian. Mrs. Rivers took a glass, and for a few minutes carried on a pleasant conversation with Mrs. Lewis and Denis, when suddenly her attention was arrested by some loud conversation behind her. It was Julian, again trying to persuade Miss Moonshadow to come to his hotel to be painted. Mrs. Lewis looked at Mrs. Rivers and said, “Mrs. Rivers, your son must stop approaching Miss Moonshadow. Mr. Goldwasser will have a fit if she agrees to be painted. She is not ready for any publicity, we are just starting to show her, and any rumour will be disastrous. We plan to show her developing a relationship with Mr. Yukon, you see, and then with Mr. Alcott.”

  “Why in the world did you bring her here?” asked poor Mrs. Rivers. “You saw that he showed an interest in her before.”

  “It never occurred to me that he would persist after he was told to stop it,” said Mrs. Lewis. “I am sorry I brought her here, I really am, but it seemed a good thing to bring her to a cultural event, where she knew people. You know, little steps, one at a time.”

  Mrs. Rivers looked at her son and Miss Moonshadow. “So,” she heard Julian say. “You will come tonight? I’ll wait for you in my room.” Miss Moonshadow smiled and said nothing. Mrs. Rivers looked around desperately, trying to attract Mr. Goldwasser’s attention, but he was still deep in conversation with the artist and noticed nothing.

  “I don’t think they will let me come,” said Miss Moonshadow, looking at Julian in a flirtatious way. “I can’t come, really…”

  “Sure you can,” said Julian loudly. “They are not your keepers. Let’s go right now. This exhibition is not going anywhere, it’s a total failure, I might as well leave.” He grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her to the door. Mrs. Rivers knew she had to act.

  “Julian, stop this immediately,” said Mrs. Rivers bravely, blocking his way. “Miss Moonshadow cannot come with you, nor can she be painted. She has other obligations, and her people want you to keep away from her.”

  “For Heaven’s sake, Mother, can’t you mind your own business?” screamed Julian. “I can talk to anyone I want and do anything I want. Just get out of my way, will you!” Mrs. Rivers took a step backward, and stumbled against Denis Stonor who was standing right behind her. To her mortification, everyone, other than Mr. Goldwasser and his host, was staring at the ugly scene.

  “How dare you speak to your mother like that, Rivers?” Denis said in a low, menacing voice. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He pushed Mrs. Rivers behind him and stood very close to Julian, staring at him. Julian seemed taken aback and looked at Denis, a bit surprised by his strong reaction.

  “You will immediately ask your mother’s forgiveness for your boorishness, Rivers. And I mean
right now.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” mumbled Julian, like the bully that he was, scared when someone stood up to him.

  “You have done plenty. Beside apologizing, I want you to keep away from Miss Moonshadow. You have nothing to say to her, let alone paint her as a few triangles and a blotch of colour, which is probably your artistic plan. You have been encouraged by your government, Rivers, we all know that, and coddled by it, but a genius you are not, and the sooner you realize it the better. Besides, you are too old to try to impress an eighteen-year-old, anyway. Now apologize to your mother for what you said.”

  “I am sorry, Mother,” grumbled Julian, turned away, and left the gallery. One of the other artists laughed. “He is like a child sometimes, Mrs. Rivers. No offence, but we have to squash him every so often…” Mrs. Rivers was not laughing. Julian’s behaviour was worse than ever, worse than it was for years, and she was deeply hurt.

  “Come along, Hermione,” said Denis. “We are getting out of here. Mrs. Lewis, would you kindly tell Mr. and Mrs. Goldwasser that I am taking Mrs. Rivers for a drive?” He took her arm, led her out of the half-empty gallery, and proceeded to his car.

  Mrs. Rivers sank into her seat and sighed with relief. “What a scene,” she said. “I am so sorry, and so grateful to you, Denis.”

  “Nothing to be grateful about. Let’s just drive a little.”

  “You see, Denis, to an extent it is my fault. I did not discipline him or guide him properly when he was young. He was terribly over-indulged by me.”

  “And where, may I ask, was his father?”

  “George? Well… he did not do much for the children. He loved them, of course, and was a kind father, but he was not much involved with their upbringing.”

  “You don’t see much of each other, do you?”

  “Well… we are not separated, if that is what you mean, but our lives have little in common. George is mostly interested in the estate. I need to travel and I need some peace and quiet for my writing, so I am mostly in London. As the years went by, we drifted apart.”