Quintin Jardine - Poisoned Cherries

I just couldn’t make myself believe it, that’s all.

I carried the name in my mind all through lunch and into the afternoon rehearsal. The scenes which we were shooting were relatively easy for me; all I had to do was look alert, shout a few words and fire a pistol convincingly.

Any other director in the world would have hired an ex-soldier to teach the gun-toting members of the cast how to use them in an authentic way. Not Miles; he was an ex-soldier, and in his young days in the Aussie army he had learned the true marksman technique himself. . along with a few other things which would not be needed in this project.

We could have used empty magazines, and dubbed the gunfire noises on to the soundtrack, but Miles had decided that we would fire blanks, so that the weapons would react properly in our hands when we pulled their triggers. So he spent a good part of that afternoon teaching us individually. . Ewan, me, Bill Massey, Liam, and a few bit players. . how to handle the weapons we’d be using, and letting us feel for ourselves how it felt when they were fired, almost for real. Mine was a big heavy Colt automatic, and I was really glad that there was no business end on the cartridges; the thing was so clumsy that I’d have blown out half the lights on the chandelier by the time I was through.

While I’ve never fired a gun in anger myself, I’ve seen it done close up; I understand the power of the things, physical and psychological, and I’ve seen their after-effects. I do not like firearms, not at all, and I’m glad that in my country at least, their ownership is restricted.

By the time we’d finished for the day, my earlier conviction that I knew my follower had gone more than a bit hazy. It was a coincidence, sure, but that’s all it was; it had to be. Strange, though; when we left the rehearsal room to walk back to the Mound, I didn’t feel threatened any more. I knew that he was still there, and I guessed that he and I would come face to face pretty soon now. I was looking forward to it; not for what I was going to do to him, for Liam had pounded most of that out of me, but because actually I wanted to meet him.

Miles and Dawn had invited Liam and me to join them for dinner at the Caledonian that evening. I found myself looking forward to that too; I had trouble remembering the last time I had sat down to a formal meal. Grazing had become my norm.

By the time we had checked the news and were ready to go, time was getting a bit tight, so we took a taxi down to the hotel. As we hailed it, I had a fleeting thought that the driver might be my stalker and that he might flood the back of the cab with gas, then whisk us off to parts unknown. As it happened, he was an old bloke with a flat cap and a hacking cough; he did try to whisk us off on a convoluted route to the Caley, but I was wise to that and made him drive straight down the hill and along Princes Street.

Miles had a couple of surprises in store for us when we were shown into the private dining room he had booked; we weren’t his only guests. Ewan Capperauld was there too, with a pleasant, dark-haired, bright-faced lady; I wouldn’t have known her from Eve, but he introduced her as his wife, Margaret. She was about his age, tall, athletic. . from the back of my mind, I dredged up an old piece of showbiz trivia I’d read once; in her teens she’d been an Olympic gymnast. . and very attractive in an understated way. I could understand why young David had made a pass at her ten years back.

The Capperaulds’ fame as a couple was based on their privacy, rather than their public face. They were never to be found in the pages of Hello or OK , and they seldom attended film events together. Having got to know Ewan, I had come to understand that he viewed his wife as his business partner. She handled all the stuff off-screen and off-stage, and he did everything else. I thought of the two agents I’d employed in my short career; they were all right, but I wouldn’t have wanted to sleep with either of them.

The second surprise arrived a couple of minutes after we did. It was Susie; there was a light in her eye, and she was dressed to kill. ‘Wow,’ murmured Liam, as she walked into the room. ‘If I didn’t know whose girl she was. . ’ Even Ewan’s head turned, and he’s seen more than a few glamour queens in his time.

She walked right up to me and took my arm, stood on tiptoe and kissed me. I felt myself smiling awkwardly, and I knew why. Susie and I, having dinner with my sister-in-law and her husband; I looked at Dawn, checking for any frost in her expression, but I saw none.

Miles read my mind; he walked over to us. ‘After yesterday,’ he said, ‘we thought we should make it clear where we stand as far as you two are concerned.’ He took Susie’s hand and kissed it. ‘Welcome,’ he murmured. ‘You’re among friends.’

She gleamed with delight; I smiled a bit myself. Why wouldn’t I? There I was with a partner who was the brightest light in a room full of movie stars and their consorts. I’d made the jump from a bad marriage to a new relationship with a ready-made family. So why did I feel just a wee bit boxed in?

Ewan and his wife came across and I made the introductions. ‘You’re Susan Gantry?’ Margaret exclaimed. ‘I’ve read a lot about you. I can’t tell you how much I admire what you’ve done with your business.’ That was it; the ice wasn’t just broken, it was shattered.

‘How did you get here?’ I asked Susie quietly, when eventually we were seated at the rectangular table.

‘Mandy drove me through.’

‘You going straight back after dinner?’

She shook her head and grinned. ‘Ethel’s given me an overnight pass. We’ll go back in the morning.’

‘Any scares through there?’

‘I was never scared; but no, it’s been all quiet. What about you?’

I told her about the second photograph, via e-mail; I did not tell her about my wild flight of fancy about the sender. No way did I tell her that.

That dinner party was the best night I’d had, we’d had, since Janet was born. Susie was treated not as a newcomer, but as a member of the cast. As for Liam, his girlfriend is an air steward, and she was en route for Miami, but even on his own, he fitted in; he’s like that. I noticed that Miles was watching him from time to time, and I guessed that if he handled his not-too-taxing part reasonably well, it might not be his last.

Looking back, one of the reasons for the evening’s success was that there was no centre of attraction. Miles was the perfect host; he said very little all night, letting the rest of us chat as we liked about whatever we liked. The only thing that was off limits was our current project. . and quite right too.

More and more, I found myself watching the Capperaulds. Apart from my parents, I’d never seen a couple who complemented each other so well and who were as relaxed and confident in each other’s company. I like to think that Jan and I would have turned out that way. Round that table I found myself thinking that maybe Susie Gantry and I would. Maybe.

The evening was over too soon; Miles ordered a round of liqueurs for those who wanted them, and that was that. As we broke up, Susie asked Miles, Dawn, Ewan, Margaret and Liam to sign her menu; she surprised me slightly, but I supposed that even the most confident among us can be a punter at heart. I was slightly huffed that she didn’t ask me to add my name, but she told me that she had something else in mind for me to sign.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

Liam was just a bit awkward about being in the spare room with Susie in the apartment; he even volunteered to move into a hotel.

‘Don’t be daft,’ she told him. ‘Just you think of yourself as a nanny. We’re used to them; you can be a big Irish version.’