For The Death Of Me (11 page)

‘That's rubbish,' I told him. ‘For a start, don't worry about the Bench: I don't need to remind you that it has a fairly recent history of embarrassing itself. As for the family . . . I speak for it, for every single member, and I'm telling you that if you decline this honour, our disappointment in you would be far greater than any awkwardness caused by a bloody silly snapshot. You're going to be installed, and you're going to become as great a judge as everybody's been predicting. Okay, what's the worst case? Someone runs the picture with a large black stripe obscuring your dick. At least you were pointing it at a female at the time. That'll probably come as a welcome relief to your fellow judges.'

He managed a weak grin at that one.

‘Harvey,' I went on, ‘you might think you're asking for my advice, but you're not. What you really want is my help, and you're going to get it.'

‘Oz, I couldn't possibly ask you to involve yourself in this sordid business.'

‘You don't have to. You're my sister's husband. What affects you affects her, even if she is likely to greet the news with a roar of laughter that would knock you over when you tell her . . . as you must.'

‘But what can you do?'

‘As much as I can. For openers, I'm going to ask a woman named Alison Goodchild to call you. She's the best media-relations consultant in town. You'll brief her and she'll put together a response for you, in the event that this nonsense does go public. It'll be full and frank: I know from experience that you never gain by being evasive in circumstances like these. Once that's under way, I'm going to find this ex of yours and I'm going to get those negatives from her.'

‘How?'

‘Quietly, very quietly, and very discreetly.'

‘But legally, Oz, it has to be legally.'

‘Harvey, I'm not going to steal the damn things, but if you're worried about my methods, I'll simply find the woman, then sit you and her down at the same table and let the pair of you sort it out.'

‘That wouldn't work. I can't tell you how vindictive Maddy can be: the very sight of me would trigger her off.'

‘Sounds like she's well named.'

‘You could be right: there's always been a crazy streak about her. That's what attracted me in the first place.' He glanced at me. ‘Maybe you can understand that.'

He didn't have to explain. ‘As with me and Primavera? You may have a point there, but which of us is crazy? There are differing views on that.'

‘I know which one of you I'd rely on in a crisis. I'm demonstrating that right now. If you want me to see this Goodchild woman, I will, even though it runs against all my instincts.'

‘Don't worry about it: Alison's ethics are as sound as yours. You tell her something in confidence and she'll never repeat it, not even if she was under oath . . . not even if it was you on the Bench demanding an answer.'

‘I'm not enjoying these images, Oz. How will you find Madeleine? You're a busy man, and when you're between films there's Susie and the kids.'

‘It won't be difficult,' I assured him. ‘And besides, I know the very bloke who can help me.'

11

I still look up to Ewan Capperauld; it seems like no time at all since we met at a cast gathering in Edinburgh before we started to shoot Skinner's Rules, which turned out to be my breakthrough movie, the one in which I realised I knew what I was doing.

Indeed, to normal people it would be no time at all, but guys like us aren't normal. A lot has happened to both of us since then, in career terms. Mine has rocketed, while Ewan's seems to have settled on a plateau. He's still A list, no doubt about that, but I've overtaken him in every respect, choice of parts, billing and inevitably, because everything is interlinked, money. He isn't jealous, though: he knows there's no logic to our business. The first time we met, his luvvie side got a bit out of control, but since then he's treated me as a friend and a professional colleague, and I'm proud of that.

I hadn't expected him to be in Edinburgh when I phoned Alison Goodchild to arrange for her to call Harvey . . . he has an interest in her business, so I asked her if she knew his whereabouts, and was surprised when she told me that he was in town visiting his parents.

He was there when I called their number, and more than happy to meet me in the Caley Hotel for a drink. In days gone by we'd have been more at home in somewhere like Whigham's, but honestly, if we're after privacy, places like that are no longer an option, even in a city which knows that both of us are no better than we should be.

‘Good to see you, Oz,' he began, as we settled down at a small corner table. ‘The more I see of your career, the more gob-smacked I get.'

‘It's 'ard to stay 'umble,' I replied. ‘So I've given up trying. Seriously, though, it's all down to Miles for giving me a start and to Roscoe Brown, my agent, for building on it.'

‘I wish he was mine,' Ewan murmured. ‘I feel I could use a little . . . added impetus, let's say.'

‘Why shouldn't he be?'

‘Would he take me on? I've never found a satisfactory replacement for Margaret, you know.' His ex-wife had been his agent, until she had gone rather spectacularly off the rails.

‘Of course he would. He's still growing, and on the look-out for top talent. Want me to get him to call you?'

He scratched his stubbled chin, then made a decision. ‘Yes. Why not? No harm done in talking to him. Thanks for that, Oz. Anything I can do for you in return?'

I grinned, a little embarrassed at having to admit that there had been an ulterior motive for my call. ‘As it happens there is. I'm trying to trace an actor named Rory Roseberry. He's not in our league, but you've been around longer than I have so I wondered if you might have run into him way back.'

‘You don't have a part for him, do you?'

‘Not as far as I know. No, I'm trying to trace somebody through him.'

‘It wouldn't be Mad Maddy January, would it?'

I should have expected him to make a connection, yet I was taken by surprise. ‘As a matter of fact it is. How did you guess?'

‘I read the Scotsman, old son. I know that your sister married her ex last year.'

‘You know Madeleine?'

‘Past tense, Oz. Let's say I knew her fleetingly, and biblically, I should be ashamed to say, about fifteen years ago. I wasn't alone in having that distinction: she had a thing about actors. My shame comes from being aware at the time that there was a husband in her background, and from the fact that there was a wife in mine.'

‘What was she like?'

‘Wild, and captivating; bloody gorgeous. The sort of girl you just know, if you meet her early enough, is going to make some poor sod a terrible wife some day. I bumped into your in-law once, a few years later at a civic reception in the City Chambers that I attended with Margaret. She was with him, and yet not, if you know what I mean. She was chatting up some bloke on the far side of the room. I felt sorry for Harvey: I could see that he'd given up trying to cope with her. When my path crossed hers that evening, I tried to blank her, but she gave me a wink that would really have shopped me to my wife, had she seen it. Dangerous woman; it wasn't long after that that she was caught in flagrante with Rosebud.'

‘Rosebud? Is that Roseberry's nickname?'

Ewan chuckled. ‘Old son, it's his real fucking name: he was christened Roderick Rosebud. His nickname is “Sledge”. How could it be anything else?'

‘That must have ruined Citizen Kane for a lot of people who hadn't seen it before they met him. What do you know about him? Is Maddy still with him?'

‘I don't know if she ever really was, or if it was just another fling. You'll need to speak to him about that.'

‘Is he still around?'

‘Sure. I saw a mention of his name last week, in a review of Death of a Salesman at Pitlochry Festival Theatre.'

‘Do you know if it's still running?'

‘I'm not sure. Why don't you call the theatre?'

I dug out my mobile, called the network directory to retrieve the number, and called the box office. I was in luck: Rory Roseberry was still playing Willy Loman. (A little young for the part, I thought, assuming that he was in the same age ball-park as Madeleine. I hoped the makeup department was up to it.)

‘Fancy a night in Pitlochry?' I asked Ewan.

‘Why not?' he exclaimed. ‘Arthur Miller is one of my gods, and I still have a taste for the exotic.'

I booked two tickets and pre-show dinner, then told Conrad that I was borrowing Mary's car for the night.

Dinner at Pitlochry was excellent, better than I'd expected. Even on a Monday the restaurant was busy, and Ewan and I were aware of more than a few glances in our direction. Eventually, once we'd finished eating, a middle-aged bloke sidled over to us and asked us, diffidently, if we'd sign his menu. We did, and that kicked it off: we wound up touring all the tables and signing every menu in the place, including four for the staff.

The play was okay, but I'd been right in my guess about the casting. In a less taxing role, Rory ‘Sledge' Roseberry would have been a capable actor, but he wasn't up to playing a man in his mid-sixties, for all the efforts of the people who'd applied the slap. He looked as if he'd been embalmed, rather than made up. Ewan was more critical that I was: he sighed when Rosebud first appeared and I heard several tuts and soft moans escape him during the performance. The supporting cast were good, and probably saved the day, although an extra, playing one of two women picked up in a restaurant by Willy's sons, kept peering into the audience as if she was looking for someone. I guessed that word of our presence had spread backstage.

When the curtain fell we stood and everyone else took our lead. I wondered how many standing ovations they'd had during the run.

As the auditorium cleared, we jumped on to the stage and found the manager, who was happy to show us to Roseberry's dressing room. He greeted us, still in his slap, the lines etched on his forehead looking even more grotesque close up. ‘Good to see you again, Ewan,' he exclaimed, a little too heartily. ‘It must be, what, ten years? Remember, I had a part in that highland epic of Miles Grayson's. We didn't have any scenes together, though, did we?'

Mr Capperauld had snapped into luvvie mode. ‘No, dear chap,' he purred, ‘sadly we did not. It would have been a pleasure for me, and instructive, I'm sure.' He moved on before Sledge could begin to ponder on whether the piss was being taken. ‘Do you know Oz Blackstone?' he asked.

‘Oh, yes,' Roseberry replied. ‘I was in Skinner's Rules. Remember, Oz? I played Haggerty, the gruff Glaswegian copper.'

He took me completely off guard, for I'd had no recollection of the fact. I did my best to cover up, though. ‘That's right,' I replied. ‘You had a great line: “Aw, yis're all fuckin' heart and generosity through here in Edinburgh, are yis no'?” Something like that, wasn't it?'

‘I'm impressed.' He shouldn't have been. I remembered it because I'd heard it so often: we'd got to take seven before Miles Grayson had been happy with his delivery, and he is not a man who appreciates wasting film stock. ‘To what do I owe the honour? Were you simply passing through or is this a special trip?'

‘The latter,' I told him, watching his little chest swell with pride. ‘I need to ask you about someone.'

The greasepaint seemed to crack a little as he deflated. ‘Who would that be?'

‘My brother-in-law's ex-wife, Madeleine January.'

‘Aaah!' The sound was part exclamation, part sigh. ‘The dear Maddy. She did not do me any favours, that one. Do you know, after my fling with her turned awkward, I went for four years before I landed another part in Edinburgh? Four fucking years without a Festival appearance, just when I was beginning to be someone. I won't say that it ruined my career but it didn't do it any good. Your brother-in-law carries a grudge, I'm afraid, Oz,' he said bitterly.

I couldn't let that go. ‘I've got to tell you, Rory, that Harvey's never carried a grudge in his life. If you were turned down for parts, it's because the directors didn't fancy you for them, end of story. But suppose he had marked a few cards, you could hardly have blamed him. If I caught anyone around my wife, I'd pound seven different shades of shite out of him.'

He raised a haughty eyebrow. ‘You think you're up to that? You may have played a couple of tough guys, but you are only a film actor. Anyway, if a woman's not getting enough at home, she's fair game. You should bear that in mind: complacency is our enemy, and all that.'

I don't think he even saw the punch, a quick straight right hand. He'd pushed my angry button and no mistake. It nailed him square on the chin, lifted him off his feet and dumped him in an armchair that was positioned conveniently behind him. Ewan didn't react at all, other than to give a quiet wince. He'd had a go at the woman as well, so maybe he was wondering if he'd be next.

I waited until the glaze had gone out of Rosebud's eyes, and until they were focused on me again. They were filled with fear: he had no thoughts of getting back to his feet. ‘Harvey should have done that ten years ago,' I told him, ‘but, like I say, he isn't that sort of guy. Now, I don't have all night. Where is Maddy?'

‘I don't know,' he muttered. ‘I haven't seen her for over five years.'

‘But you hear things, don't you?'

‘Yes, occasionally. The last word I had of her she was with an Australian.'