you’re saying is that you’re not sure Katharine will have this … this chemistry with the camera.’
‘Exactly. Oh, I know she has talent, great ability, a wonderful speaking voice, and that she’ll photograph magnificently in colour, but there’s a lot more to it than that. Acting in front of a camera is a very special technique. I’m lucky, in that I have always had great rapport with the camera, and yet I’m not so sure I would be as good as Katharine on a stage. I might fail miserably, as many other movie stars have in that medium. It’s funny, but you simply can’t he to the camera. If you do, the lies are there on film.’
‘But surely Katharine must understand about this special technique. She is a professional – ‘
‘I don’t know whether she does or not. To be honest I’ve never discussed movie acting with her. I should have done, I suppose, but I wanted to fix the test for her first.’
‘But you will help her, talk to her, won’t you?’
‘Sure. I plan to do it some time next week. I can give her a few hints, and the director I’ve chosen to make the test will take her through her paces first.’
‘I should jolly well hope so!’
Victor looked at her with some amusement. ‘And tell me, Francesca, why are you so interested in Katharine’s career?’
‘Because I like her, and I know how tremendously important the test is to her. It was easy to see that, after the way she reacted at the dinner table. That’s why I feel so ghastly about the awful things I said. About the book, I mean. It was none of my business, and you didn’t ask my opinion. I’m not a bit surprised she was so upset. And I’m sure you wanted to kill me, too.’
‘Not at all.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘But I’ll have to keep you away from my screenwriter. I don’t want you planting any radical ideas in his head.’
‘Gosh, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that!’
‘I’m kidding. Knowing Nicky, I’m sure he’s more than well acquainted with the intrinsic truths in the novel.’
‘Nicky?’
‘Nicholas Latimer.’
‘Do you mean the novelist?’
‘That’s right. America’s boy wonder of literature. I can see, by the look on your face, that you’re wondering why I’m using an American to adapt an English classic for the screen. And that you disapprove.’
‘No, I don’t,’ Francesca protested.
He grinned. ‘Nick Latimer does happen to be a Rhodes Scholar, as well as a hell of a fine writer.’
‘I’m a great admirer of his.’
‘Then you have good taste.’ Victor tossed down the last of his cognac, and rose. ‘Well, now that I’ve enlightened you a bit about movie acting, I’m going to let you go to bed.’ He picked up his jacket and put it on, and together the two of them went out into the hall.
Victor took his trenchcoat from the cupboard and threw it over his arm. He turned to say goodnight, and as he looked at Francesca he experienced that same curious shock of récognition which had so startled him at the beginning of the evening. She hovered near the drawing room door, shrouded in shadows. In the diffused light her face was partially obscured, the pristine features blurred, and she seemed, at that moment, terribly familiar to him, although he knew tonight was the first time he had ever set eyes on her. And yet … an evanescent memory stirred in some remote corner of his mind, and was gone before he could grasp it. He stepped closer to her, in order to see her more clearly, and an unanticipated surge of desire rushed through him; he had the spontaneous urge to take her in his arms and crush her to him. For one awful moment he thought he was going to be stupid enough to do so.
Instead, he found himself saying, somewhat hoarsely, ‘How old are you, Francesca?’
She lifted her face and looked up at him, her eyes wide and luminous. ‘Nineteen,’ she said.
‘I thought as much.’ He thrust out his hand. ‘Thanks for a swell evening. Good night.’
‘Good night, Victor.’
He turned and left. She stared at the door for several seconds, frowning, and then she went to switch off the lights. As she moved from room to room, she wondered why she felt strangely let down and disappointed.
Victor Mason sat at the desk in the sitting room of his suite at Claridge’s Hotel, studying the budget for his intended remake of Wuthering Heights.
With his usual punctiliousness, he examined the columns of figures, analysed each projected expenditure with objectivity, endeavouring to ascertain whether, and how, it could be trimmed. Painstakingly, he began to make headway, jotting notes on a yellow legal pad as he found ways to reduce the costs, and eventually at the end of two hours, through scrupulous cutting, he had saved four hundred thousand dollars.
He put down his pen and stared at the figures, and a smile of satisfaction settled on his face. It still wasn’t enough, but it was a start. The last thing he wanted to do was diminish the quality of the production, but he had always felt the budget was far too high, and when Jake Watson, his line producer, had called from Hollywood last night his qualms had been confirmed. Jake had pointed out, and in rather colourful language, that the estimated budget of three million dollars was simply not feasible for a film of this nature.
‘I’ve always felt it wouldn’t fly,’ Victor had told him, ‘even though it was prepared by one of the top production guys in Hollywood, as you know. Maybe that’s the essence of the problem. Since the picture is being made entirely in England, there are probably many ways I can save, which he didn’t consider, perhaps wasn’t even aware of, to be really fair. I’ll try and find a way to bring it in at two million five.’
Jake, whom Victor had just signed for the project, had retorted gloomily, ‘That’s still too high. Try to cut as much of the fat off as you can. I’ll work on it over the weekend. By Tuesday I should have some new figures.’
Jake is right, of course, Victor commented to himself. Two million is nearer the mark. But how do I cut another six hundred thousand dollars? He reached for the telephone to call Jerry Massingham, the English production manager he had engaged last week, and then his hand fell away. Why disturb the man on Sunday. They were scheduled to meet tomorrow and could discuss all the relevant details at that time. There was no real emergency for the next couple of days, and between Jake, Jerry and himself, they ought to be able to pull together a more realistic set of figures. Victor wanted every detail of the project settled and as quickly as possible. With all the facts and figures at his fingertips he could move ahead at once, and negotiate from strength.
Victor took off his horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes, and then stood up and walked across the room, stretching his legs. He had been at the desk for three hours already and although his progress had been slow, the decisions both trying and difficult, the effort had been worth it. But now he wanted a break. He suddenly wished he was back in Southern California and could take a canter around his ranch. Being essentially a physical man, accustomed to
