Chapter 32

The next day was still that constant drizzle that makes the world feel as if it’s been submerged into the North Sea. I sat quietly, catching up with my tablet and emailing Jacquie to see about getting one of the spare rooms ready. Later that afternoon, May took me and Chloe to the school. Chloe led me through to the gym, where Miss Steel was standing with a worried look on her face.

“Welcome back, Miss Leigh. I’ve had a few phone calls since you were last here, many wondering who you were to end my session. I’ve had a look at your profile. You certainly have made some excellent films. I loved ‘Turbulence’ but didn’t know that you had actually written three box office hits, even doing direction. Now I see how you could peel away the coverings on my little troupe. Today, I thought we would run through the whole show, with you giving a little talk beforehand. We won’t use costumes until the actual night, they’re far too precious.’

“Quite right, Miss Steel. Acting comes from within, not because you have a costume on. You can wear a suit of armour, but it doesn’t make you a Knight, unless you believe that you are that Knight, and the armour is your birthright. Chloe and I put together a short piece, last night, that could demonstrate that.”

We spoke about various things, and she asked about the other actors I had worked with. She had picked up on the rise of Eric after he started appearing with me. Her only regret was that she could now only see him on the daytime reruns of his old series.

One by one, the group arrived, Chloe going over to her friends as we had decided. When they were all together, we got them around us. Miss Steel made the proper introduction and passed to me. I told them about acting being a projection of yourself into the character, not just learning the lines and repeating them. I spoke about my second screen test in Hawaii, and how I had channelled anger about my father, and only just stopped short of knocking Jack Fellows into next week. Then I told them that he had asked me to actually slap him during the take of the same scene, so that he had the redness of the slap on his face for subsequent scenes.

“The best actors make you believe that the scene is real.”

“Bitch!”

Chloe and I faced off as her friends cowered away from us. We went at it, hammer and tongs and then fell together with tears and told each other we were sorry. As we pulled apart, I turned to the group.

“What did you just see? How did it make you feel?”

That made them realise that they had just seen two actors making it look real.

“You all have parts that you’re playing, but from what I saw yesterday, you’re just repeating the lines. If that’s acting, the only people you would see on the big screen would be wind-up dolls. Actors can play any role you throw at them. Before I met Eric, all he was playing was a country copper on TV. Successful, yes, but hardly using his talent. What brought him out was mentoring Jeff, my husband at the time, in the role that Jeff played in ‘Thirteen Women’. Eric ended up playing the police chief and has won several awards that had eluded him until that inner beast was unleashed. Think about it when you prepare yourselves for this rehearsal. Are you a wind-up doll, or do you really want to be an actor.”

I stood back as they got themselves ready for the revue. When they were ready to rehearse, Miss Steel came over to me and we sat on a couple of seats, waiting for the start.

“You know, Julia, you and Chloe frightened even me, back there. I had no idea of the talent locked into that girl. She’s never had someone like you to play off, before.”

“As long as it has motivated a few of the others, it will be worth doing.”

The music track started, and the revue went into the first vignette. I could see the difference, immediately. All the actors were thinking about the role, rather than repeating the lines. There were more facial expressions and more bounce. It was a rather entertaining piece of work. As it worked towards the end, I heard a voice beside me whisper, “The dog is dead, long live the dog.”

When they finished, we stood and applauded them. I could tell, from the smiles, that most of them had realised what acting was about. Those who had embraced it lifted the ones around them. Chloe, and the ones she had played beside, had stolen the show.

Miss Steel congratulated everybody and told them that if they repeated that during the actual performance, they would be poking a finger up to those who called them losers. I told them that the Agent who was coming along would be happy to see them. They all got ready to go home as the parents arrived, happy to be here, and ready to regale their long-suffering family with their new hope for a career.

May came in and Miss Steel gave her a hug, telling her that Chloe is bound for fame and fortune. She then went over to Chloe and had what looked like a serious discussion. May asked me how it had got on and I just gestured to the children, chattering to their parents as they left.

“They got the message, I think. It might be a good show, after all.”

Chloe came over and hugged us both.

“Guess what! Miss Steel wants me to be a co-director over the next week, up to the show.”

On the way to the hotel, we told May how well our bit of acting made the rest realise what they could do. The dinner was a happy affair. I had rung the weather office at the airport, and they had told me that there would be a window of opportunity in the morning to ride the change all the way south. I asked Janet if there was somewhere we could stay overnight in Kings Lynn, so we could meet Linda. She rang her daughter, gave her the likely time of landing, while I rang the Fenlands airstrip and organised a tethered parking spot.

I told Chloe that if the weather looked bad, next weekend, I would organise commercial flights, so to keep her packing within the limits. The next morning, being Saturday, we all went to the airport in the people mover, loading up the plane. I had called them, first thing, and had booked the fuel truck, so it was just a matter of inspecting everything, saying our cheerio’s, and agreeing to meet up when we arrived next weekend. May said that we could stay at the hotel again.

Bob thanked me when he gave me a hug, asking me to take good care of his bundle of joy when she’s down south. We got into the plane as the others retreated behind the fence. When the engines were warm, we gave them a wave and took the plane out to the staging point, waiting for a gap in the operations to get onto the runway and head for Norfolk.

We had a following wind and made good time to Kings Lynn. When we landed, Linda was there with a minibus. It was another situation where we may have been looking into a mirror, Linda and I held each other close, and cheek kissed. Loading up, after getting the plane tethered and locked, we were driven into Kings Lynn to a hotel. Linda had booked a table for lunch and would take Janet home when we had finished talking.

Over lunch, and the next few hours, she was brought up to speed on her birth father, and her two half-sisters. Since Janet had called her, she had researched my body of work and declared that I was a good writer. I explained my project with the new book, and she promised to edit it for me. I told her about the films I had written as stories first and she was keen to see those. I got my laptop and emailed her the original stories for ‘Wind of Change’, ‘Interesting Occupation’, and ‘Tycoon’.

The afternoon turned into dinner, and it was late evening when Janet gave me a hug and thanked me for the opportunities to see her ‘husband’ and meet a couple of the other wives. The three of them were now firm friends with similar stories, as were me and my two new sisters. It had been an interesting week, and my life would never be the same.

In the morning, we got a taxi to the airstrip, and left on the final leg before the weather from the north caught up with us. We arrived at Redhill in time to get the plane secure and load our bags into the car. We took Mum home with us and I phoned for a car to pick her up in an hour. She rang home to say that she was on her way, then we sat, over cups of tea and spoke about the last few days. When she left, I went and took a long shower and dressed casually, going into my office to write up some notes. I emailed Horatio to tell him what had happened, asking him to see if the Major had papers and photos that he could release to me.

I also emailed Jim, asking if he, or Michael, could attend the performance next Saturday, in Carlisle, with the main person of interest being my half-sister, who I would be bringing south the next day. He replied that he will take his car, and Belle with their bub, on a country drive and see me there. I also researched coffin makers and emailed one that was close, asking about a special coffin with removable lugs for tie-downs, so that it could be transported in a Piper 600. I got the size off of the flying suit and measured the length to give them the body size.

I spent the Sunday jotting down notes for the book. I hadn’t thought of an opening, as that would be crucial in setting the scene. I ate, I sat, I drank tea, and I scribbled my notes. With Chloe coming to stay with us, I went and looked in the room that Jacquie had prepared. I was restless, and not sure why. I did a full circuit of the house, looking at things, and then realised what was on my mind.

I was a film star, a writer of screenplays, a director (of sorts); yet here I was without a project of any kind. No-one had sent me a screenplay for months, I hadn’t had an idea for one of my own, even the modelling side had fallen away. Was I fading – past it! I made a promise to myself that I would get immersed again. Tomorrow I would go to the studio and see what was happening. I wondered if Younger Films had anything I could get in on.

I went and found Adrian, dragging him into the bedroom to tell him about my new determination while allowing him to explore my current one. We were laying there, and he took my hand.

“You’ve been spinning your wheels long enough, darling. It was time you found your drive, again. You have so much talent it’s a pity to keep it hidden from view. That little scene that you and Chloe put together is a case in point. It was loud, in your face, almost violent, yet bittersweet. I felt assaulted by it when you two unleashed it. I want to see the pair of you on the screen. If it’s something you’ve written for the two of you, all good. If it’s something else that comes along, you have to grab it. Being nominated doesn’t mean that you have to go to an award, but if it’s something with the two of you in, I know that wild horses couldn’t hold you back.

“You’re right. I have had this thing with Dad recently, and the concept of the book is hovering at the back of my mind. I emailed a casket maker to see about getting one we can carry in the 600. I want to fly him back to London for his funeral, in his plane and his child at the controls. This last few days have torn open a curtain that I had constructed between me and my extended family. Meeting Chloe was like adding another person to my personality, and Linda has welded herself on, as well. Things are not just me, not just the two of us, but a lot more besides.”

After we had showered, we had dinner and made sure the others knew what was likely to happen. I brought them up to speed on the situation with my father, and how we would be organising a funeral, plus bringing in the other families. I told them all about my expanded family, as far as I knew it. I told them that I was going to try and get working, once more, before I’m totally forgotten.

On Monday morning, I took myself to the studio, where several welcomed me with “Long time, no see.” I strolled around, immersing myself in the life, once more, and then went to find the ‘Younger Film’ offices, where David and Tony were discussing something. When I opened the door, they both stood and hugged me.

“So, Julia, to what do we owe this visit. We thought that you may have retired.”

“I almost had, David, but I had an experience a few days ago that made me think twice about my direction in life. I met my half-sister, Chloe, and we put together a little scene to breathe life into the drama group she’s in. It made me think of my first screen tests and all that has happened, in between.”

“Tell us all about it. Sit down, I’ll get some drinks.”

I sat and gave them the background on why I met Chloe. They knew a little about my father, so that wasn’t news. What was news, to them, was the fact that I had another six extended families. I explained that I would be organising his funeral, then writing a book about his life, not a screenplay. I said that I had realised that I needed a project to energise my being, and that I wondered if they may have a screenplay, or two, that I could look at. Tony smiled.

“So, you’re, what, 35 or 36 now, and your sister is?”

“I think she’s 26.”

“And she acts. How good is she?”

“That’s why I thought of the first screen tests, she’s as good as I was, back then. I would have only been a couple of years younger when we started ‘Turbulence’.”

“What does she look like?”

“Except for the age difference, and hair colour, it’s like looking in a mirror. It’s the same with my other half-sister that I met, coming home. She’s about 32.”

“What do you want, Julia. You have us both on tenterhooks.”

“Chloe is going to star in a small revue, in Carlisle, on Saturday. After that, I want to bring her home and see if I can get her a screen test. Beyond that, it’s a matter of how good you guys think she is.”

“Are you going to the revue?”

“Yes, and so is Jim. I promised the group that I would bring a London Agent to see them, and it injected them with talent they had never shown.”

“So, it wouldn’t look out of place if one or both of us turn up?”

“That would be wonderful if you can. If the weather is fine, I’ll be flying there and bringing her home after. If it isn’t, I’ll get a commercial flight from Gatwick”.

David reached beside him and picked up a screenplay.

“This, Julia, is what Tony and I were discussing when you arrived. It’s a story about two sisters, about ten years different in age, who see a violent crime and find themselves on the run from the criminals. It has flaws, even we can see that. It was given to us by C.J. and I know that he will welcome your input, the way you lifted ‘Gale’. Take this copy with you and we’ll talk some more after we see your sister on stage. If she gets a screen test, it will be a scene from this. You can choose which one.”

I thanked them, took the screenplay, and went off to the studio canteen, where I sat with a cup of tea and started to read. I stopped long enough to get something to eat and another few teas later I had finished reading. Only then did the odd person come and say hello. I sat and thought about the film. Yes, it did have flaws, but C.J. had absorbed a lot since he wrote the first draft of ‘Gale’. I knew which scene would be the screen test. It had the girls at their lowest ebb, seemingly about to be killed, and the older one was ready to give up. The younger one berated her for letting the side down and gave her a stern talking to.

When I looked at my copy, it was now covered in notes, and even a few greasy thumbprints. It made me smile, happier than I had been for a while. I had a project, and I had already put my mark on the paper.

Back at home, I realised that there was something else that needed to be done. I looked up Private Investigators in Middlesborough, looked at their websites and emailed the best looking one. I asked if they could see if they could find the whereabouts of the first wife, giving the details that I had on the list, with the bogus surname he had used. If that failed, I asked, could they find any living children from that marriage. When I thought about it, I realised that, so far, every wife had born the one daughter that I knew of.

Looking at the list, I saw that there were two boys from that first marriage, with one of the overseas wives also having a boy, while the other two had girls. I did a little calculation and realised that the boys from the first marriage would be in their fifties, while the others would be in their late forties. So far, none of my sisters had children of their own, and I wondered just how wide the family tree had spread with the others.

The next day, I was in the office when the phone rang. I let Jacquie take it and she came in with the handset and told me it was a Private Eye.

“Julia speaking, are you ringing about my email?”

“I am, Miss Leigh. I wanted to confirm that it was really you who requested our services.”

“All right, are you able to help?”

“With the wife in that information, I can tell you that she is buried in a nearby cemetery. She died about twenty years ago. The local records show twin boys, names Barry and Bertram. They were registered under the surname Bancroft that you gave us. Neither are in the local phone book. If you want us to go further, we can see if we can trace their movements. That may take a few days. Our fee is three hundred a day, with five working day minimum. What I have just told you is free, if you want to stop here, as it’s all public record.”

“I do need to find them. Their birth father is dying, and they need to be told about it. Can I pay you over the phone so that you can keep working on it?”

We did the business and he emailed me a receipt, and promised to email me whatever they could dig up at the end of the five working days. That meant that I would get that next Wednesday.

I was getting somewhere, so looked at the screenplay again. I sat, quietly, and went through it, writing down the points I thought were the flaws, along with my ideas on how to make them better. When I had finished, I scanned my ideas and emailed it to David, with the note that C.J. might like to look at them.

On Wednesday, I called up the Gatwick weather guys and asked about the likely weather over Friday to Sunday. Their prediction was for low cloud and rain, so I thanked them and rang the airline to get three seats going to Carlisle on Friday, with four seats coming back Sunday. I then called the hotel to say that we would get a taxi in from the airport on Friday afternoon, with a double and a single wanted. This trip I would be taking Jacquie with me.

Later, that day, I had an email from the casket maker, with a picture of the coffin and a quote. They would include the tie-downs, made to suit the cabin configuration I had supplied. I called them up and did the payment over the phone, asking them to deliver it to a warehouse in Wrexham for further delivery to HM Prison Berwyn at a date to be notified. I then looked up Funeral Directors in Wrexham, making a booking for a hearse to take a coffin from Berwyn to RAF Shawbury, also at a date to be notified.

After that, I looked at Funeral Directors in the London area. As far as I knew, he had been born in the Midlands, so it really didn’t matter where he was going to be buried, but my senses told me that it had to be somewhere under the flightpaths into Heathrow. I found a place in Hounslow and rang them.

When I had described what I wanted to a bewildered receptionist, an old man came on the line. I told him that my birth father was dying and had been a fighter pilot as well as an airline pilot in later life. I wanted him buried, not cremated, and somewhere under the airport flightpath, so that he could hear the sound of the jets. He was a jovial type and saw, right away, that what I wanted may be lucrative. He suggested the Fulham North Sheen Cemetery, next to the big crematorium, but that a burial plot was quite expensive, these days.

“The money is not a problem, sir, but the placement of his body is important. Can you find out if a plot is available, if you can buy it, and if you can pick up his casket at the London City Airport when I fly it there. If there is a non-denominational chapel that is happy to conduct the service, all the better. He was no saint, but I promised him a good send-off when he does die. He has terminal cancer, and we may need to do the business any time in the next few months.”

I gave him my name and email address, and told him that I would pay, up front, for his services. I also asked if he had a monumental mason that he used, and that the stone may have quite a lot of words on it.

“Was he famous?”

“Infamous, sir. There has to be room for the seven names he used when he married.”

“Oh, my! That will be a funeral for my scrapbook. Will there be anyone famous at the funeral?”

“Well, other than me, sir, there may be a few film stars who will come along to support me, as well as members of all seven families. I can let you know when we get to that stage.”

“You’re a film star?”

“Yes sir. I’m Julia Leigh. I gave my name to your receptionist.”

“You’re that girl from the ’13 Women’ and ‘Wind of Change’?”

“That’s right, they were two of my films.”

“My daughter gave me the DVD set for Christmas. She knows that I like horror films. Goes with the profession, all the dead people I see.”

“I hope that you enjoyed them as much as we enjoyed making them.”

“They do have that air of people liking what they do. I’ve seen so many, lately, where the actors are just in it for the money. I’ll be happy to help you, Miss Leigh, and look forward to meeting you, although it will be a sad time.”

When I put the phone down, I had to sit back and have a laugh.

Marianne Gregory © 2024