My Life in Black and White

by Kim Izzo

  Frederick cleared his throat and almost seemed embarrassed; it wasn’t a look I’d seen on him before. “There might have been photographs, but not of my wife. You see, on occasion, I invite ladies here to have a bit of fun, like I invited you. I dress them up in gold gowns and red wigs, we drink a bit of champagne and sometimes these parties get a bit wild. More than one reporter came here on several nights to follow up on Mica’s death. Like that Larry. And Mr. Adamson, for another. He came here numerous times. I can think of at least one incident where I caught him spying through a window when I was in bed with at least three redheads.”

  I looked at Niall. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, just stared at the ground sheepishly.

  “For all I knew, there were pictures,” Frederick continued. “You had me convinced. After the murder investigation, it took ages to get my reputation back on track. The last thing I need is a sex scandal.”

  “So you dress women up like your wife?”

  “Not exactly. Despite what I told you, it isn’t Mica’s dress. She hated them. I always forced her to dye her hair and wear gold gowns. It’s my taste,” he shrugged. He must have realized how it made him sound by the stunned looks on all our faces. “I may be a pervert but I’m not a killer. Mica was an alcoholic. She was drunk and we’d had a huge fight. But I went to bed because I was fed up. She fell in the pool when she was alone. Her blood alcohol level was so high, the coroner said, that she probably passed out before she hit the water.” For the first time Frederick looked genuinely sad, and I felt sorry for him.

  Niall cleared his throat. “But I never wrote a story about those parties because at the time I wasn’t interested in famous people’s private lives. Still not.”

  I didn’t know what to do or say next. I was done trying to write this plot in my head to a satisfying ending. The only thing that mattered was Alice. The rest was just madness.

  That’s when Niall spun me around into his arms and kissed me. When he let me go, he wore his stupid lopsided grin. This time it matched the lopsided angle of his fedora. But the grin didn’t last, because Dean came at him, and in one swift move slapped Niall across the face so hard it knocked his hat off.

  “How dare you kiss my wife?” Dean growled. I rushed to Niall but he gently pushed me aside and faced Dean.

  “Did you really just slap me?” Niall asked, stunned.

  “You bet I did!” Dean shouted. “You’re not man enough to take a punch!”

  “Is that so?” Niall said, seething.

  I shoved them apart, each an arm’s length from me. “Listen, boys, I’m flattered but you got to stop,” I told them. “You know what they say, Niall, ‘See to it you can take a slap as easy as a kiss,’” I said, repeating my grandmother’s dialogue from He Gave No Answer.

  “Then let’s see if he can take it,” Niall said, and then without warning raised his hand to slap Dean. Only Dean ducked and Niall slapped me. My head snapped to the left and back like a rubber band. The entire side of my face burned. I shut my eyes from the pain and the shock.

  “Are you all right, Clara?” I heard Saffron ask. My head felt funny. I was dizzy and warm and wanted to lie down.

  “My God, Clara! I’m so sorry,” I heard Niall say.

  “You bully,” Dean said to Niall.

  “You coward,” Niall said to Dean.

  “Stop it!” I heard Trinity say to both of them.

  “I’m all right. Men always slap women in film noir,” I said, with my hand to my face.

  “Only when they need to snap out of it,” I heard Frederick mutter snidely. He didn’t say precisely what “it” was, and I didn’t feel much like asking. Slowly, I opened my eyes. The room seemed brighter, although my vision was blurry. I blinked several times and opened my eyes wide until at last the foyer, the chandelier and everyone came into focus. But that was the least of it: every inch of the place was in colour, and everyone was dressed head to toe in twenty-first-century clothing. I was back.

  “I didn’t mean to hit you,” Niall repeated.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said to him. I was dazed, but that didn’t stop me from grinning ear to ear. I looked at Frederick. “I guess you were right. I needed to snap out of it. Just like in the movies.”

  Dean shoved Niall out of the way to stand beside me.

  “As long as you’re not hurt,” he said softly.

  “I’m not the one who hurt her,” Niall spoke up and straightened his shoulders.

  “Well, I think we’ve all had enough bloody fun for one day,” Trinity said sensibly. “It’s a little late to be heading back to town in that storm. Your little castle seems to have plenty of room, if you ask me.”

  Frederick slowly got up. “I keep all the bedrooms suited up in case of surprise visitors. There are three others left, one each for Trinity and Saffron, but the men have to share the third, but don’t worry, it’s equipped with twin beds.”

  “I’ll stay with my wife,” Dean piped up firmly and put his arm around me. Silence. Although if facial expressions have a language of their own, Niall’s and Amber’s were speaking volumes. Even Trinity’s and Saffron’s eyes were bulging.

  “Of course you may stay with your wife,” Frederick said, glad to be done with me.

  Dean smiled and rubbed my shoulder. I had gotten what I wanted; Dean had come back to me. All I had to do was walk up the grand staircase of this ancient castle with my husband at my side and close our bedroom door and life would be exactly as it was before. But all the strange things that had happened, the clothing, the black and white, moving through decades, all of it, had changed everything. I no longer wanted life to be like it was before. Dean still didn’t love me the way I wanted him to. He had cheated on me. And the other cold, hard fact was I didn’t love him anymore, not like I thought I did. I also wasn’t as forgiving as he seemed to think I would be. Then I looked at Niall. He was a heap of trouble in his own right. Then again, I’d become the kind of girl who got into trouble plenty, and I’d shown myself I could take a slap or a kiss and not bat an eye. I guess I was tougher than I thought. And I wanted to be tough now when the situation called for it.

  “Don’t I get a say in all this?” I asked.

  Dean removed his arm as though I were covered in spiders. “Sure, Clara,” he said and chuckled nervously. “You saying we should head back to London now?”

  “I’m not saying that at all,” I said firmly. “I’m saying I don’t want you in my room.”

  Silence again. Then Dean whispered in the vain hope the others wouldn’t hear, but in such a cavernous tomb that was impossible. “Can we discuss this later? I’ll sleep on the floor if you prefer. Just let me come back.”

  I saw Amber flinch. And while it pained me to not march Dean upstairs and play the triumphant wife in front of the disgraced mistress, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want him.

  “You’ve had plenty of time to discuss our marriage and you haven’t bothered to text, call, email, nothing. And when I’ve tried to see you, you let that girl humiliate me. I’m done with the both of you.”

  I didn’t need to look at Niall to know he was smiling. Trinity and Saffron actually applauded. Amber took the opportunity to run up to Dean and fasten her skinny arms around his waist. But Amber wasn’t smart enough to know when to quit.

  “Forget her, Dean! She’s like you said, cold and bitter,” she hissed. I looked at Dean; the bastard wouldn’t meet my eyes now.

  “You said that?” I asked, my mouth quivering. I may not love him anymore but the words still stung.

  “I was wrong,” he said desperately and tried to shake Amber off. She wouldn’t be diverted.

  “Why don’t you tell him the truth, Amber? That you weren’t heartbroken when he left you? That the first thing you did was hightail it out here and into Frederick’s bed. At least you tried to,” I said. Both men looked aghast.

  “That’s not true!” she cried. “How dare you make things up?”

  I laughed. “You really are a lousy actress.
”

  “Oh yeah. Well, you are a crap writer, and that friend of yours? Alicia what’s-her-name? She’s a crap actress. I saw the screen test. She’s nothing, like you’re nothing.”

  That was too far and everyone but Amber knew it.

  “Amber!” Dean snapped, looking at her with horror. “Apologize immediately.”

  “Don’t bother,” I said and walked up to her. She was still wearing the high heels, and there we stood, not quite eye to eye, the blonde in her skimpy nightie and the redhead in a gold satin gown. Even Louis B. Mayer couldn’t have dreamed up a better scene, and I knew what I would have written had I been the screenwriter.

  INT. CASTLE FOYER–NIGHT

  AMBER, the blonde bombshell, stands and faces Clara with utter defiance. The two women are so close they can smell last night’s champagne on each other’s breath and each other’s Chanel No. 5.

  AMBER

  You think you’re so tough because you dyed your hair red and swan around in vintage clothes like you’re Rita Hayworth. But you’re not. You’re nothing but a mousy, washed-up, thirty-something woman who can’t hold on to her husband. Even if he wants to come back, he won’t stay, Clara. Women like you can’t keep a man.

  Clara nods as though in agreement. Amber smiles triumphantly.

  CLARA

  I have one thing to say to you. There is plenty of ice in the freezer.

  Amber’s sly smile disappears into a puzzled frown.

  AMBER

  What are you talking about? I don’t need ice …

  CLARA

  (slight smile)

  Yes, you do.

  And with that Clara slaps Amber hard across the puss.

  Only I didn’t write it, I did it. Amber yelped in pain and covered her cheek with her hand. She wanted to cry but was either too proud or too shocked to let the tears flow, but her eyes were plenty glassy. I surveyed the faces of the rest of them in case anyone else needed straightening out. The women were covering their mouths to hide their laughter. The men stood their ground but said nothing. Amber, on the other hand, got madder and madder like a two-year-old in a tantrum, her face equally red, but then again the colour was probably from the smack I gave her.

  “I’m going to sue you, Clara Bishop,” she yelled. “I’ll charge you with assault! You and Dean will have to pay me hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe even millions!”

  “Me? Why would I pay?” Dean asked stupidly.

  “Because she’s your wife and you brought me into this mess,” Amber snapped. “There may be permanent damage to my face and that’s my livelihood.”

  “I thought waiting tables was your livelihood?” Trinity asked ever so politely.

  “I’m an actress! I’m the star of the film, remember?” she continued undeterred. “I’m going to sue you big time!”

  “I didn’t touch you,” I said calmly. That stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes grew wide and she practically choked.

  “You slapped me.”

  “I didn’t lay a hand on you.”

  “Don’t try denying it, Clara. I have a room full of witnesses,” she stated and grinned like she had me.

  “I didn’t see anything,” Trinity said.

  “Not a bloody thing,” Billy the cabbie tossed in.

  Saffron shook her head.

  “Me neither,” Niall said and moved to my side.

  “Huh! I’d expect as much from you lot,” she went on. “But Dean and Freddie saw too.”

  “You’re not in America anymore. The English don’t sue over every slight to our character,” Frederick said smoothly. “And besides, I didn’t see Clara touch you.”

  “But, Freddie, I’m your star.” She spoke with genuine panic in her voice. “You said so, you discovered me yourself.”

  He looked embarrassed. “I may have over-exaggerated that. You’re a beautiful blonde with an ugly personality. And after everything I’ve heard and seen tonight, I have one word for you: recast.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “I may like redheads in gold gowns, but I don’t appreciate being played, and you played me for a fool,” he said flatly. “And to top it off, I don’t admire cruelty, and you, my dear, are a first-class bitch.”

  Her whole face was red; indeed, so was her décolletage. That left her one man standing. My husband.

  “Dean?” she pleaded.

  He shook his head. “Clara didn’t slap you, Amber. You must have fallen asleep in the sun and got a slight burn. It will be gone by morning.”

  “Sunburn! This is fucking England! That does it. I’m leaving now, even if I have to walk back to London.” She stormed upstairs.

  “I will call her a cab,” Frederick said. “There’s a lovely inn in the town, not more than a few miles away. It will do for the night.”

  “Don’t bother, mate,” Billy piped up. “I’ll take her.” He nodded to us all and walked out the door.

  “I think it’s high time we turned in for the night,” I said, exhausted yet oddly satisfied.

  Trinity came with me and we walked down the hallway, past Amber’s door, where we could hear the muffled sounds of her packing, cursing and otherwise harrumphing about.

  “You did good,” she said to me when we reached my door.

  “Remember what you said about my being Alicia Steele’s femme fatal Frankenstein?”

  “Yes, sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be. It was true,” I said. “And I want to hang on to a bit of her.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” she said, touching my arm. “Every one of us gets trampled by life at one point or another. Sometimes more than once. You’re just as tough and just as beautiful as any screen heroine, you just never realized it.”

  “Maybe anti-heroine is more like it?” I said and smiled. “But as much as I tried to be her, the real me shone through loud and clear.”

  “How do you mean?”

  I thought of Larry’s injuries, the door clunking Niall, Frederick’s ludicrous behaviour by the pool, the accidental slap and every other misplaced and misunderstood moment from the past week and said, “I’m just a screwball comedy in film noir clothing.”

  She grinned and hugged me before heading to her room. I went inside and leaned against the door to shut it, only it wouldn’t budge, so I put my whole weight against it when I saw a hand creeping in. I screamed. It was Niall.

  “My God, why didn’t you knock?” I said. “You shouldn’t creep around in a place like this. It’s scary enough.”

  “Sorry, Clara,” he said. “I did knock. Damn door is so thick you obviously didn’t hear me.”

  “Well, what do you want?” I asked, feeling very exposed in the thin satin dress so close to that giant four-poster bed. Why did he have to look so irresistible?

  “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have kissed you. Especially not in front of a crowd. I was quite out of line. I’m sorry.”

  I flicked my hair over my shoulder and back again. “I accept,” I said and felt myself step closer to him despite my best instincts. “Only next time do it in private.” And I brought my lips to his.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  When I woke up, it was mid-morning on December 10. Niall was still sound asleep as I tiptoed to where his jacket was folded over the back of a chair. As I searched his pockets for his smart phone, I felt nothing but trepidation. I needed to know one thing. One vital thing. I found the phone and went to the browser and typed in my grandmother’s name. There it was—an IMDb entry for He Gave No Answer, which gave her date of birth and date of death. “Everything okay?” Niall asked, his eyes half closed.

  “Sorry I woke you,” I said. “I needed to check a date.”

  “Did you find it?”

  I nodded and turned away. I had my answer. Alicia Steele, Alice, my grandmother, had died on this day in 1952. I hadn’t changed a thing. The tears were about to tumble down my cheek and it wasn’t something I wanted to share; tears required explanation, and I needed to reflect on the informa
tion in private, at least for now. Niall lit a cigarette and shoved his grandfather’s case back into the pocket of his trench coat. He took a puff, then held it out for me. I frowned at it.

  “Why not?” I said and shrugged. I put the cigarette to my lips and inhaled deeply, only to have the smoke retaliate and come back out of my mouth in a fit of coughing. Niall rushed into the washroom for a glass of water, and I threw the offending cigarette out the window. Smoking like Lauren Bacall was truly a thing of the past.

  “I think I just quit,” I managed to say.

  “I think it quit you,” he teased.

  Then we heard a high-pitched noise off in the distance.

  “What’s that sound?”

  Niall opened the window. He looked concerned. The sound grew louder and louder, and there was no mistaking its source. “Police siren,” I said. “More than one.”

  We stood and watched as two police cars tore up the drive to the front of the castle.

  “Better get dressed,” he said.

  But they were too fast. We heard a kafuffle downstairs, followed by loud steps beating a pathway to our door.

  “Police.”

  I had no choice but to slip into that gold gown once again. When I opened the door, two uniformed officers looking none too happy were there to greet me.

  “Clara Bishop?”

  I nodded.

  “You’re under arrest for assault.”

  Niall gave me his trench coat for warmth, and they led me down the staircase and out the front door. As I was being stuffed into the back of the police car, I saw Frederick wailing at another officer as he too was being forced into a car.

  “I can’t believe this is happening again! Don’t you people have anything better to do?”

  Everyone else, Saffron, Dean, Trinity and Niall, were asked to come in for questioning. No doubt as witnesses. I sighed. Amber wasn’t going away quietly.

  Police Station—Cirencester

  “And that, Sergeant Hooper, is that.” I took a sip of water and waited. Hooper stared at me.