‘Thanks, Jerry. It’s a bloody tough role.’
‘Mmmm. Funny though, how you make it look so easy.’ The production manager glanced at Terry and said, ‘We got some damned good footage in the can last night, and providing there are no more mishaps, and the weather holds, we should be able to get out of here next Friday, as planned. That should make you delirious.’
Terry threw Jerry a baffled look. ‘I haven’t minded being on location, mate. As a matter of fact, I’ve quite enjoyed it this time around. I was pretty miserable when we were here in May, but then who wasn’t, with all that rain. Getting sodden to the skin every day is hardly my idea of a joyride.’
Jerry laughed at Terry’s dour expression, his glum delivery. ‘Nor mine. And I wasn’t singling you out in any sense,’ he remarked. ‘We’ll all be glad to get back to London and the studios. A week of final interiors and then it’s a wrap.’
Terry eyed him, a faint smile flickering. ‘Still, despite the problems, and the weather, we’re on schedule and within the budget. That should make you delirious, Jerry.’
‘It does.’ He leaned across the bicycle, and said, ‘You’ve been a real trouper, Terry, taking so much rotten flak from Mark Pierce as good-naturedly as you have. He’s a difficult bugger.’
‘But a great director. I simply put it down to the temperament of a genius. And to be fair, he’s been hard on the entire cast, as well as on me. They’ve been troupers too.’
‘Yes,’ Jerry said quietly. He thought: But Mark’s had his knife in you and to the hilt. He had his own ideas about the real cause of the trouble between the actor and the director. Victor was suspicious and had attempted to get to the root of it, without success. Too much tension, too many undercurrents on this film, Jerry said inwardly. I’ll be relieved when the last bloody frame has been shot.
‘I heard a rumour you’re going to be on the Bolding picture, Jerry. True or false?’
‘Affirmative, old boy. And I’m looking forward to it. A classy production. Shooting in the South of France later this summer. Good cast too.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘And you? Anything in the offing?’
‘A couple of things,’ Terry said cautiously. ‘A play in the West End for starters, if I want it.’
‘Stick to films from now on, Terry,’ the production man advised. ‘You can really cut it, and you come off well on the screen. When I saw the rushes I was most impressed. You’ve brought something very special to the role of Edgar Linton, given it dimension and stature.’
‘Thanks. That’s nice to hear. Especially from you. Getting it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’
Jerry smiled but said nothing and the two men walked on in silence. Within a couple of minutes they reached the entrance to the hotel grounds, and ambled through the gates and up the short driveway. As they drew closer to the front steps of the Spa Hotel, both of them stopped short and glanced at each other swiftly.
‘Our star departs!’ Terry said.
‘Looks like it.’ Jerry’s response was gruff and a flash of annoyance replaced his startled expression as he surveyed the scene ahead. Victor Mason’s gleaming wine-coloured Bentley Continental was parked in front of the door, and Gus was loading the boot with Victor’s expensive luggage.
‘I thought he wasn’t leaving until next week,’ Terry said.
‘So did I. Tuesday to be precise.’
At this moment Jake Watson came through the door and hurried down the steps, his arms laden with cans of film. He carried these to the car and placed them inside on the back seat. Turning, he saw them and waved. ‘Hi, you guys!’
‘’Morning, Jake,’ Jerry said, moving forward quickly, pushing the bicycle.
‘Good morning.’ Terry returned Jake’s wave and grinned. ‘Are we losing our star?’
Jake nodded. ‘Yep. Victor’s about to leave for London.’
‘I wish to hell you’d told me!’ Massingham exclaimed heatedly, his face colouring. ‘If I’d known earlier it would have saved me the bother of getting that package of documents to the post office. Victor could have taken it with him,’ he groused. ‘Racing up and down the roads on this bloody thing is all I need this morning.’ He stomped off to park the bicycle, bristling.
‘Don’t get so hot under the collar, Jer,’ Jake soothed, staring after him, recognizing his nose was out of joint. He probably thought he had been cut out of some top-level decision-making. ‘Victor only decided to beat it an hour ago. I came looking for you, as soon as I knew about his change in plan, but you’d already split.’
‘When’s he coming back? Correction. He’s not, if the luggage is anything to go by,’ Jerry muttered, swinging around to face Jake, glaring at him.
‘That’s right.’
‘It was my understanding Mark needed Victor for an extra scene on Monday,’ Terry remarked carefully, his curiosity aroused.
‘Mark changed his mind,’ Jake said, deciding it would be more discreet to tamper with the truth than tell it the way it really was. ‘He had a breakfast meeting with Victor this morning, to go over the rest of the shooting schedule, and he decided the additional scene would be redundant, a waste of film, and everybody’s time. He’s got far too much footage in the can as it is, he’s over-shot like crazy as he always does, and a lot of it has to end up on the cutting room floor. Victor agreed the scene wasn’t really necessary. It wasn’t in the script in the first place. It’s the one Mark added, you know, when Heathcliff is walking on the moors late at night and thinks he sees Cathy ahead of him … well, the ghost of Cathy. The scene would’ve had to be shot at night, which they wanted to avoid. Also, they both decided it was a bit too esoteric,’ Jake finished, feeling rather pleased with his censored version of the stormy breakfast meeting at which Victor had finally put his foot down.
Jerry Massingham’s attitude changed, and for the better. He grinned delightedly. ‘Well, I’m glad to hear it. A smart decision. I knew all along we didn’t need that new scene. We’ve got enough mystical bloody mumbo-jumbo in this picture as it is. Not that I would presume to tell Mark how to make his bouillabaisse, of course. Good. It’ll save us some money in the long run.’
Jake said, ‘That’s the spirit, Jer. I was pretty damned sure you’d see the practical side. And listen, bubeleh, I’m sorry you had to sweat it up to the post office, particularly on that antiquated machine.’
‘No harm done, laddie,’ Jerry replied with geniality, his good humour completely restored.
‘Well, you two, I’ve got to push off, I’m afraid. See you later,’ Terry announced and edged in the direction of the steps.
‘Righto, old boy,’ Jerry said, and Jake added, ‘Take it easy, Terrence.’ He put his arm around Massingham’s shoulders and went on, ‘I need to talk to you about a couple of production matters.’
Terry left them with their heads lowered, huddled together near the car, and bounded up the front
