Simon Brett - So Much Blood

The tape started with an amusing dialogue between Gerald and the waiter, who felt certain that Signor would prefer to put his case on the floor. This was followed by the detailed business of ordering. Gerald did not stint himself, and, encouraged by example, nor did Anna. The client in the Actors’ Company was certainly going to pay for advice on his film contract.

After these preliminaries, Gerald started explaining why he was in Edinburgh. As a film producer, he was setting up a new movie, meeting some of the other backers, enjoying the Festival… and possibly even doing a bit of casting.

Anna’s reaction to this was non-committal and Charles began to feel redoubled guilt. If she were innocent what he and Gerald were doing was unforgivable. No aspiring actress should have her hopes manipulated in such a way.

Gerald’s distant voice then started to outline the plot of the film he was setting up, according to their plan. He dropped a few suitably substantial names and spoke airily of the locations in Spain and Finland. In fact, it was not all untrue; it was based closely on the film that he really was setting up. The only bit that was complete fabrication was that one part remained uncast. The part of a young girl, whose lover (a considerable film star was playing the part), a terrible lout, treats her cruelly and is stabbed to death halfway through the film. ‘Of course,’ purred the distant voice, ‘that’s going to be really difficult, that’s the bit that’ll call for real acting. The girl’s got to express this complex emotion when he’s killed. She knows he’s a slob, but… tricky. I think they should go for Diana Rigg or someone of that stature, but the director’s got this crazy idea about finding an unknown. He must’ve read too many film magazines.’

The first course was delivered. Gerald expertly checked the wine and the sound of Niagara Falls showed that Anna’s glass had been adjacent to the microphone. Nothing much happened for a while except for eating and pleasantries. The waiting was purgatory for Charles. Then Gerald’s voice resumed its tactics. ‘I’m sorry. All this talk of people being stabbed. I read in the papers about that terrible accident in your group. I shouldn’t talk about it.’

‘It’s all right.’ Anna’s voice came through, very clear and controlled. But was the control genuine, or was there just a fraction too much, a hint of acting?

Gerald continued apologising. ‘No, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s just that that kind of thing’s such a shock. You must have all felt that. But think how much more terrible it must be if the person who dies is a lover or someone close. It doesn’t bear thinking of.’

‘No. It’s terrible.’ Charles tried to prise apart the layers of intonation to understand what she meant. Was she rising to the bait? He was torn between the desire to vindicate her and the intellectual satisfaction of having his psychological approach proved right.

Gerald’s voice went on, more subdued than ever. ‘That’s the trouble. Every tragedy leaves someone behind. I suppose this… Mariello, was that his name?… I suppose he had a girl somewhere.. oh, it’s ghastly…’

‘Yes, he had a girl…’ There was no question about the way she said the line. She played it subtly, wasting none of her talent for drama. But its meaning was undeniably clear. Charles Paris understood that meaning and understanding hurt like physical pain.

Gerald’s recorded reactions were unnecessary, but the tape ploughed relentlessly on. ‘You mean… you?’

‘Yes. Willy and I were lovers.’ The voice was very soft, genuinely moving. There was a long intake of breath and a sob. ‘Were… lovers.’

‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I wouldn’t have raised the matter if I’d had an inkling…’ Gerald’s lying protestations continued and Anna’s tearful assurances that she had got over it mingled with them. She was playing the scene for all it was worth.

Her unfinished antipasta was taken away and she calmed down sufficiently for the gentle questioning to begin again. ‘That must have been absolutely terrible for you. To be there and… oh, I’m sorry. And it wasn’t that you had been lovers? I mean, you still were right at the end?’

There was a long pause which Charles interpreted as Anna being thrown by the question and not knowing which way to jump. Eventually, the voice came back, quiet, but well projected. ‘Yes, right at the end.’

‘Good God.’ The shock sounded genuine. Gerald had played his part well too. ‘You’ve been thrown into almost exactly the same situation as the girl in this film. It’s amazing.’ Charles no longer felt guilty about the deceit. Guilt was being forced out of his mind by swelling anger as he listened to Gerald laying the next snare. ‘Bereavement is an awful thing. It’s so difficult to explain to anyone what you really feel, the true nature of your emotions.

‘And of course it’s even more complex for the girl in this film. Her lover is, as I said, not very loving. A real bastard, in fact, keeps doing crazy things, cruel things, criminal things. I think the character’s overdrawn. No woman would stay with a man like that.’

‘I don’t know…’ Again just a simple remark infused with all the art her considerable talent could muster.

‘But surely…’

‘What, all that not speaking ill of the dead business? Why should I worry? He’s dead, and when he was alive, it was not his goodness I loved him for. I knew his faults. He could be cruel, oh yes, and evil.’ She was warming to her performance. ‘He’d do crazy things. Wicked things, and he’d say he’d done them for me.’

Gerald had only to grunt interest; she needed no prompting. ‘I mean, take an example. Recently, he nearly killed someone for me. Yes.’ She let the drama of it sink in. ‘There was a girl in our group who would have been in the revue. She had the part I’m playing. And one day I must have said to Willy that I envied her. I don’t mean I was jealous; she was a sweet girl, I liked her-but I must have said what a super part she had or something. And do you know what Willy did?’

‘No,’ said Gerald, on cue.

‘He pushed her down some stone steps.’

‘Good God.’

‘Yes. It was so cruel. No, I’m sorry, you were wrong when you said I didn’t know what it was like to love a bastard. I do, to my cost.’

Charles rose suddenly and switched off the machine.

‘She really was very moving,’ said Gerald. ‘Very. And you reckon this is all significant information? Cherchez la femme, that’s what they always say in detective stories. Frailty, thy name is woman. Is it Raymond Chandler who calls them frails?’

‘Is there much more?’ Charles snapped.

‘A couple of courses. She did perk up a bit after that.’

‘After she’d finished her audition.’

‘Yes, I suppose you could say that.’

‘I’ll spool through and see if there’s anything relevant.’

‘No, I’ll do it, Charles,’ said Gerald hastily. ‘Incredibly pretty girl, I must say. Sort of navy blue eyes. Do you know her well?’

‘I thought I did.’

‘Oh.’ Understanding dawned. ‘Oh.’ Gerald busied himself spooling on and playing snatches of the tape. It was mostly general talk about films and the theatre. At one point Charles’ ears pricked up.

‘… had a lot of experience acting?’ asked Gerald’s voice.

‘Yes. Only at university level, of course.’

‘But you want to go into the professional theatre?’

‘Oh yes. I’ve had one or two offers.’

‘What sort of thing?’

‘Well, I’ve been asked to play Hedda Gabler at the Haymarket, Leicester…’

‘The cow!’ Charles shouted inadequately. With the unquestionable logic of the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, his own role in the proceedings dropped into place. He was just a prop in the oldest theatrical scene of all-the casting couch.