Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool (14 page)

For the rest of the morning the house was alive with activity; it pulsated with a feeling of urgency, while Gloria was getting weaker, worsening by the hour.

My mother was in a frenzy throughout but battled on with the housework, cleaning the hall, the front steps, the floor in the kitchen; the curtains in the living room were only halfway pulled
back. It was as if she was getting prepared.

My father and Candy, who had been continually shunted from one room to another, accused of getting in the way, ended up down in the stores.

Jessie arrived early, but alone; Joe had another problem with his car.

‘The battery was going flat, so he’s gone to the garage to have it recharged. Otherwise it would have been dead by the end of the day.’

‘Well it’s a good thing he’s not here,’ my mother stated. ‘He’d go mad if he heard what happened with that Barbara.’

Jessie took over the nursing.

There was a never ending stream of telephone calls and many to be made. Friends of mine, friends of Gloria’s, her agent, were now all concerned. The director and staff from the theatre in
Lancaster, who had been telephoning every day, were brought up to date with the news.

Eileen Connolly phoned to ask if she should come over, my sister Mary offered to help, and Barbara Brawnsley phoned to ask if she should come back.

‘Only if I do,’ she said, ‘don’t think of me as a nurse, but more as a friend of the family.’

My mother put her off.

The hotel into which I’d booked Tim and Paulette phoned to say that they’d have to accept another booking unless the rooms could be secured. So they were cancelled; we still
didn’t know when they would arrive.

Gloria’s former husband, Tony Ray, phoned several times from New York. He was upset and very emotional. He said that he’d try and come to England, but he was told that he’d
probably be too late.

My own sadness was distracted by the events of the day and the things that had to be done, but it was impossible to stop thoughts and pictures of Gloria from flooding my mind. Everyone was
talking about her.

‘Peter –’ my mother was wiping over the table with the dish cloth – ‘do you remember the time me and Jessie took her down to Great Homer Street market when she
wanted to buy a pair of second-hand shoes? Ahhh, poor Gloria, it must be terrible to have her problem with those awkward feet. Of course it was early, there was no point in getting there late. But
when we got there it was chocka. You had to keep tight hold of your purse. Thank God nobody cottoned on to who she was. Gloria just blended in with the crowds. She never ever tried to show herself
off. She just went round all the stalls looking for her own few little bits. We had a great laugh with her that day. I wish we were doing that now.’

It was Saturday. There was a matinée. I’d put off leaving for the theatre as long as I possibly could; I was hoping to hear from Paulette and Tim. There was the possibility that
their flight was late, or they’d missed it, or even, at the last minute, decided not to come. It was unbearable waiting for news, so I dialled Paulette’s number in California several
times, only to hear that slow infuriating tone, which hopefully confirmed that they were on their way.

I was late again for the half-hour call before the beginning of the play.

‘You’ve been pushing it all week. This has got to stop.’ Old Jack followed me halfway up the stairs to the dressing rooms, issuing threats.

Geoffrey, with his make-up on, was standing out in the corridor in a fit of pique.

‘Actors being late. It puts everyone into a state of nervous tension. This is a theatre, not a come as you please.’

Ten minutes later I took my place alongside Gil in the wings. She gave me her usual wink before I walked onto the stage to deliver the opening line of the play.

The matinée was slow. It was dull. The small audience of elderly ladies who’d come out for their Saturday afternoon’s entertainment were not impressed. There were no flowers
at the curtain call.

I spent the gap between the matinée and the evening show, usually a time for rest, a time to recover from the first performance and build up energy for the second, waiting to speak on the
telephone, to be brought up to date with what was happening at home. The one pay-phone backstage was in continual use, with actors making arrangements for Saturday night. While I waited, I had to
listen to Geoffrey telling a story I’d heard a hundred times before. Linda was trying hard not to look unimpressed.

‘It was during the banquet scene. Raymond was being marvellous, got slaughtered by the critics, but I thought he had a good stab. Anyway, I heard a very loud snore from the stalls, which
persisted, and that’s when Julia turned her gaze directly at me. She could be a prima-donna but she loved a bit of a joke, a bit of a comedienne she was really, not cut out for tragedy, poor
love. All she had to do was raise an eyebrow, that’s all she had to do to get a laugh, and that’s exactly what she did. I went, she went, we all started to laugh; it was the most
unforgettable corpse.’

When at last I dialled my parents’ number, the line was continually engaged, driving me to the point of near despair; I was anxious for any news about Gloria; I wanted to know if Paulette
and Tim had arrived.

The evening show went well. The audience were demanding but out to enjoy themselves; they laughed at all the right lines.

‘Great show tonight.’

‘Isn’t it going well?’

I couldn’t share their enthusiasm. I couldn’t wait for it to finish.

As soon as the play was over I asked Gil to give me a lift home.

‘Well,’ she gasped as she drew up outside the house. ‘Good luck. I hope your visitors are here. If there’s anything I can do . . .’ She gave me a sympathetic smile
as she drove off.

I stood on the pavement under the light from the lamp. The house gave nothing away; gave no clue as to who might be inside. Then I saw Joe’s car, back from the garage, parked a few yards
down the street. I opened the gate and walked up the path.

‘They’re here. They’ve arrived.’

As my father opened the front door wider I could see an array of baggage in the hall.

‘I’ll be glad to get away to Australia,’ he said. ‘There’s too much going on for me here.’ He walked down the passage towards Candy, who was waiting for him
at the entrance to the stores.

‘Sssh.’ My mother put her finger to her lips. ‘They’re upstairs.’

Along with Joe and Jessie she was at the kitchen table. There was an uneasy atmosphere about; strangers were in the house.

‘What time did they get here?’

‘Well,’ Joe said in a whisper. ‘The train was late for a start, but I had no trouble spotting them walking down the platform. It was the girl I saw first.’

‘She’s the spitting image of Gloria,’ my mother announced, as if she was the first person to spot the resemblance. ‘You can hardly tell them apart.’

‘Yes, she does look like her in that film about the circus,’ Jessie added. ‘The one with Charlton Heston. It was on the telly just the other week.’

‘Anyway,’ Joe continued, ‘I got them back here at about ten o’clock. We had a little talk, I filled them in with the details, told them what’s been happening. Ever
since, they’ve been upstairs with Gloria.’

‘I’ve hardly seen them,’ my mother declared. ‘They wouldn’t have anything to eat, not even a cup of tea. They brought their own food with them. It looks like
seaweed but it’s supposed to be a health drink.’

‘Paulette looks upset. She’s very pale.’

‘Well, Jessie, naturally she would be. That only makes sense. But all the same, she could do with some decent food. Those Americans make themselves sick with all those vitamins.’

‘I’ll make a cup of tea.’

‘That’s a good idea, Jessie. That’s my health drink.’

‘What’s Tim like?’

‘Well he hasn’t said a lot up to now, except that he wants to take a look at the situation. He wants to have a word with the doctor, think about things and then make quick decisions.
He seems sensible enough but I don’t know, Pete. I don’t know anything about the lad.’

‘I don’t know much either, Joe. I’ve never met him before.’

Tim was Gloria’s oldest child by her second husband, Nick Ray. Theirs was a complex relationship as Gloria’s fourth husband, Tony, was also Tim’s older half-brother; they both
shared the same father. Gloria’s fourth marriage therefore turned Tim’s brother, Tony, into his step-father, and his mother into his sister-in-law.

Gloria told me that at one point Tim had worked in the film business. He’d recently travelled around India, but was now studying acupuncture.

I knew Paulette reasonably well, having spent some time with her on my visit to California. She used to come to the trailer quite a lot and we all went out to dinner a few times. She was a shy
person and a bit nervous. She loved living near the ocean and wanted to work with animals. I liked her.

Just then she opened the kitchen door and hovered at the top of the stairs with a bowl in her hand. Wearing a thermal jacket over a heavy knit woollen sweater that reached her chin, she looked
as if she was dressed for the Winter Olympics but somehow ended up in the wrong event.

‘Excuse me, could I get some ice? I’d like to bathe Mom’s face. And do you have an ice-crush?’

‘Paulette.’

‘Oh hi, Peter,’ she said when she turned and saw me. ‘How are you?’

‘Okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you off the train.’

‘Oh that’s all right, Peter. When we called up from London, your mother said that you were at the theatre. That’s fine.’

By this time my mother was fighting with the ice-cube tray, bashing it against the sink.

‘Here you are, love. Come down and get it. It’s in little bits and it’ll look more crushed once it’s started to melt. Oh,’ she said, ‘I hate these trays that
stick to your fingers.’

I’m sure that the bashed-about ice-cubes were not quite what Paulette had in mind, but she smiled, expressed her gratitude and then went back up to her mother.

‘I’d better go and say hello to Tim,’ I said.

‘Now hold on a minute.’ My mother pulled a chair back for me at the table. ‘Don’t be in so much of a hurry.’

‘Hi, I’m Tim.’

‘I’m Peter. Hello.’

Tim stood in the doorway. I could hardly see into Gloria’s room. Not much older than myself, he was about the same height and had short, dark, curly hair. He leant against the door-frame
and spoke to me confidentially.

‘I’ll be coming to speak to you later, Peter, but right now I’m trying to talk to Mom. Communication is a problem but it’s important to try and find out how she feels
about things before I assess the situation and decide what’s best to do.’

‘That’s fine, Tim,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to tell you that I had a problem finding a hotel, so it’s a question of making do here tonight. My mother will talk to
you about the sleeping arrangements before she goes to bed. At some point I want to come in and see Gloria, and I’d definitely like to have that talk.’

‘Oh for sure, Peter. Of course. Let’s talk later,’ he said as he closed the door.

I went to the upstairs sitting room. I felt I needed to be alone.

‘Christ, I’m exhausted,’ Tim said as he flopped into the comfortable armchair.

‘You must be,’ I said. ‘It’s a long journey.’

‘Especially after reaching London,’ Tim replied. ‘And it’s so cold here. Is it always this cold? I can see why The Beatles left town.’

‘Liverpool is like New York, Tim. It gets a lot of wind from the river.’

‘It’s freezing in Mom’s room.’

‘That’s because she needs the window open most of the time. It’s helping her to breathe.’

‘But Peter, don’t you think that it’s freezing in here, too?’

‘I’m sorry that you’ve had to come,’ I said, changing the subject to the main purpose of the visit.

‘Yeah, Peter. It’s tough.’

‘How is Gloria tonight?’

‘Well, Peter, she’s weak. She’s not saying much so I’m trying to establish a positive method of communication. The weight loss is drastic. It’s too bad that she
hasn’t had solid food.’

‘Well, as you can see for yourself, Gloria is not able to take solid foods and she can hardly drink. We have tried to feed her but she is just too ill to take it.’

‘I’d like to know the history of this illness.’

‘Yes, so would I. It was only last Tuesday when I found out she was sick.’

Tim and I embarked on a question and answer session. He wanted to know all the details of Gloria’s visit since she’d arrived from Lancaster. I told him everything I knew, pointing
out the fact that Gloria had persistently refused medical attention and that I was advised by the health authorities that I could be committing an offence if I were to force her to have treatment
that she did not want.

‘Well, how come you have a doctor? I hear he’s been around a few times. I gather Mom doesn’t seem to like him too much.’

‘The health authorities advised it. He’s not able to treat Gloria against her wishes but the reason he is here is to monitor her illness and make sure that nothing strange has been
happening.’

‘Your brother told me that this afternoon the doctor was talking about a death certificate and of the possibility of having to fly the body back to America. How come it’s so certain
that she’s dying?’

I went back to the beginning of the story, telling Tim about Gloria’s collapsing during a rehearsal of the play up in Lancaster, about Joe and Jessie taking me up there and the telephone
conversation I’d had with the doctor from the hospital.

‘Doctor Casey has confirmed the situation and I’m afraid Gloria’s death is very imminent.’

‘I have to go to the bathroom,’ Paulette said as she came into the room. She was almost in tears. ‘Tim, will you sit with Mom?’

‘I’d like to sit with her,’ I said.

‘That’s okay, Peter. I’ll take a look down in the kitchen and have a talk with your folks.’

I closed the door firmly behind me. I wanted to be alone with Gloria.

She looked different. Each time I saw her she looked different. It was her hair. Jessie and my mother would always try to make it look nice but they each had their own way of doing it, so it had
been through a variety of styles; brushed back off her face, pulled across to the side, and fluffed up with strands combed into curls at the front. She looked at me, stone-faced and miserable. She
didn’t smile.