My Week with Marilyn (13 page)

‘I'm sure of it. And now it's time I left and you went back to sleep.'

‘Oh, don't go away, Colin. I can't stand it if you go too.'

Marilyn opened up her swimming-pool eyes again and held onto my hand as if her life depended on it.

‘Please stay, Colin.'

‘All right, I'll stay. On one condition – that you come into the
studio on time tomorrow morning. That will surprise everybody. That will show them all what you're made of. That will show them that you are a great, great star. That when things look bad you can rise above it and give the performance of your life.'

‘Oh, Colin. You make it all sound fun.'

‘Will you do it, Marilyn? Just once? Not for me – for yourself. We won't warn Paula or Milton or anyone. We'll just go. I'll set the alarm for seven o'clock. That gives us another four hours of sleep.'

Marilyn giggled. ‘Four hours! Aren't we going to make love, Colin? Will that give us enough time?'

‘Oh, Marilyn, you are a naughty girl,' I said sternly. ‘We are not going to make love, OK? It's bad enough me being here. You've got to be able to tell your husband that we didn't even think about sex – that it never even crossed your mind. You've got to be able to say that with your hand on your heart. Otherwise he jolly well will leave you forever. And you don't want that.'

Marilyn sighed. ‘I guess so,' she said.

I gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Just out of interest, though, would you have liked to make love?'

‘Kinda.'

‘Me too. But now we're going to sleep.'

‘I tell you what, we'll spoon.'

‘Spoon?'

‘Yeah, I used to do this with Johnny – Johnny Hyde – when he was sick. Pull off your trousers and get into the bed, Colin. Now lie very straight, with your face towards the edge. Hey, it's good that you're thin like Johnny.'

Marilyn turned off the light and lay down behind me. I could feel her stretching out her face towards the back of my neck, until her body ran the whole length of mine. This is getting dangerous, I thought. One thing could lead to another in the dark. But Marilyn was clearly enjoying herself, being in control.

‘Now slowly bring your knees up, Colin, and curl your back forwards.'

As I did so I could feel Marilyn doing the same, until I was completely enveloped in a soft embrace.

‘See?' said Marilyn. ‘Like a spoon!'

I breathed out at last. ‘Goodnight,' I said. ‘Sleep well.'

‘Mmm,' said Marilyn. ‘This is great. I will.'

For the first two minutes, I was feeling so wonderful that I could not even imagine falling asleep. The next thing I knew, an alarm clock was going off on the other side of the bed, and sunlight was streaming into the room. To my amazement I could hear singing and splashing coming from the bathroom.

Marilyn was rehearsing the beautiful little waltz written by Richard Addinsell for the film – ‘The Sleeping Prince Waltz'. So she can get up in the morning after all, I thought, if she wants to.

Then, as I clambered over the quilt to silence the clock, it dawned on me that I could be in serious trouble. I had just spent the night in bed with someone else's wife, and there were five witnesses right here in the house. I retrieved my grey flannel trousers from the floor and went into the dressing room. At least there was a sofa in there, even though it was rather short. I went back into the bedroom for a couple of pillows and that fancy pink coverlet and arranged them in careful disarray, to make it look as if I had spent the night as far away from Marilyn as possible. Only Maria would see it, I thought, so I must make sure she would notice. I might need her to give evidence
later – I was not sure to whom. I put an ashtray and a glass on the floor by the sofa, as well as a pile of books.

‘Marilyn,' I called. ‘I'm going to the studio. See you there soon. OK?'

Marilyn came out of the bathroom in her white towelling robe.

‘Hey, Colin, you look a bit messed up. What will Sir Laurence say? I slept great. I'm really going to show him what I can do today. Wait a minute, you need the key to escape.'

She laughed and went to her dressing table.

‘There you are. Tell Roger I'll be down in ten minutes. See you later.'

It was already a quarter to seven.

‘'Bye, Marilyn. You are a star.'

I tore downstairs, almost crashing into Roger in the hall.

‘Miss Monroe will be leaving in ten minutes,' I gasped.

Roger looked grim.

‘Don't worry, Roger. She's feeling great.'

‘I'll bet she is.'

‘Now, Roger, don't jump to conclusions. I slept in the dressing room. See you at the studio. And please, put on a cheerful face. We can't have her losing her nerve now.'

‘Morning, Evans,' I called cheerily as I roared off down the drive.

I managed to get to the studios just one minute before Sir Laurence's brown Bentley came round the corner of the dressing-room wing.

‘Morning, boy! Is make-up ready?'

‘I'll check, Sir Laurence.'

Olivier stopped and stared.

‘You look a bit rough this morning. Anything up?'

‘Everything is fine, I think, Sir Laurence.'

‘Good. Well, let me know when Marilyn arrives. That is, if she does arrive at all. Any clues?'

‘Oh, I think she will arrive this morning.'

Olivier gave me a piercing look.

‘I really hope so,' I said to myself. You could never be absolutely sure with Marilyn.

‘High time, too.'

He went into his dressing room and shut the door, while I went in search of the make-up man. Ten minutes later, to my huge relief, Marilyn's car appeared, Evans impassive at the wheel. Out got Roger. Out got Paula, out got Marilyn.

‘Good morning, Colin.'

‘Good morning, Miss Monroe. It's a lovely day.' I couldn't resist a grin.

‘Yes, isn't it Colin!' and she grinned right at me, to Paula and Roger's obvious alarm.

‘Make-up is waiting in your dressing room. I'll be back in an hour.'

‘All right. See you then.'

I rushed along to Olivier's dressing room bursting with pride.

‘Miss Monroe has arrived, Sir Laurence. She's being made up now.'

‘What? At 7.15? Why, she's almost on time. What the hell brought that about? Colin, were you involved in this?'

Olivier glowered, and then gave a roar of laughter.

‘You spent the night with her, didn't you? No wonder you look so scruffy. Oh dear, what will I tell K and Jane [my parents]?'

‘Nothing improper happened, Larry, I promise.'

‘I don't care if it did. At least you got her to the studio on time. That's all that matters. Now, let's settle down and try to make a film. And well done – but if I were you I'd go along to wardrobe and try to smarten up. And maybe to make-up too. And have a shower. You don't want the whole studio to know.'

Gradually the rest of the crew arrived, and one by one they nearly fainted with surprise. ‘Marilyn!' ‘Here already?' ‘I can't believe it!' ‘That's a first!' etc. The set was dressed and the lights rehung in half the normal time. David Orton kept me busier than usual on the studio floor, and I forgot all about Marilyn until her dresser came to find me two hours later.

‘Miss Monroe would like a word, Colin.'

David groaned. ‘At least let me know if she's ready, will you?'

‘Oh, she's ready, Mr Orton,' said the dresser. ‘She just wants a word with Colin first.'

‘Oh she does, does she? Has Colin taken on Paula's job too, then?' He raised his eyes to heaven. ‘Lord, what did I do to deserve an assistant director like this?'

When I got to Marilyn's dressing room, she was still in the inner sanctum, but fully dressed and looking radiant.

‘Colin, I'm feeling a little nervous now,' she said. She gripped my fingers hard. ‘What do you think?'

‘Marilyn, darling,' I didn't care if Paula could hear or not. ‘Think of the future. You
are
the future. Now, come on the set and show those old fogies what you can do.'

It was a wonderful day. I only had eyes for Marilyn, although I didn't speak to her again. To my great relief most of the crew simply ignored me. It was as if my new role made me someone else, and put me on a different level. Paula fussed around as usual, but Marilyn seemed to have risen above her in some way, like a swan gliding through the reeds. She remembered her lines, came in on cue, and smiled brightly at the other actors on the set. When Olivier went over to give her some direction, she looked directly into his eyes and said, ‘Gee! Sure!' instead of turning to Paula halfway through.

It was not until she was back in her dressing room at the end of the day that I got a chance to spend a moment with her alone.

‘You were magnificent! You did it! You showed them all!'

‘I was scared. Will you come by again this evening? Please? Come after supper. I've got to spend some time with Paula. I've got to learn my lines.'

The ice beneath my feet was wafer-thin, but I could not resist those eyes.

‘All right. I'll come. But I've got no excuse to spend the night this time.'

‘See you later then, Colin.'

‘Goodbye.'

Tony and Anne looked pretty stunned when I reappeared at Runnymede House that evening. By now they knew where I had been the night before, and I don't think they ever expected to see me again. It was as if they thought Marilyn had swallowed me up, like a snake. Anne seemed rather upset, but Tony was full of congratulations.

‘I don't know how you did it, Colin, but Laurence' – Tony is the only man in the world who calls Olivier ‘Laurence' – ‘was absolutely delighted. At this rate we'll finish the film early. What did you do? Do you think it will last?'

‘I wouldn't bet on it,' I said.

‘I think we can all guess what Colin did,' said Anne tartly. ‘The question is, what happens next? And what will Mr Miller say when he gets back?'

‘Marilyn and I are not having an affair,' I said wearily.

‘No, of course not,' said Tony bluffly. ‘Just good friends, right? Anyway, you're much too young for her.'

‘And much too naïve,' added Anne.

‘So you'll be staying here tonight, I assume,' said Anne.

‘Ah, well, I suppose, I'm not sure about that. I have to drop by Parkside after dinner, just to make sure Marilyn is all right. She absolutely insisted. But I do want to come back here to sleep – if I can.'

‘Quite,' said Anne.

When I arrived at Marilyn's house again Roger was pacing up and down outside, obviously waiting to talk to me before I went in. I parked as discreetly as possible and he came across, knocking his pipe out on his shoe.

‘Miss Monroe is quite upset. She's with Paula at the moment. I'd leave them to it and wait, if I was you.'

‘For heaven's sake, what's the matter now?' Colin, the twenty-four-hour cure! ‘She was super today. Olivier was happy, she looked happy. It was as if the sun had come out.'

‘You didn't think they'd let you take her over, did you?'

‘I don't want to take her over. She's not a company. She's a person. I just want to help.'

‘I think you'll find she
is
a company. Marilyn Monroe Productions. That's who pays my wages, anyway. And Milton Greene was here for an hour, too. He's plotting something, that's for sure. But I don't think he'll tell Mr Miller. I think he sees Mr Miller as a bigger threat than you.'

‘So he jolly well should. Mr Miller is her husband. I'm nothing more than a passing fancy. Everybody in the movie industry fusses too much about what is happening that actual minute. Nobody takes the long view. It's a wonder any film ever gets finished at all.'

‘It'll certainly be a miracle if we ever finish this one.'

Roger and I went into the kitchen to wait. Poor girl, I thought. I bet Paula is confusing her all over again. But then, I suppose that if she didn't, she'd be out of a job, just like the rest of them.

It was nearly dark by the time Paula appeared.

‘Hello, Colin. You'd better go up. But don't stay too long. She's very tired, and she's not feeling too well.'

When I got up to the bedroom, Marilyn was lying down in the half darkness, looking very fragile indeed.

‘Oh, Colin. I'm feeling so bad.'

‘What has upset you now?'

‘Paula told me that Sir Laurence yelled at her that I couldn't act, and never would be a real actress. And in front of the crew. The whole film crew.'

‘Today? Olivier did that today? But I was there all the time.'

I was totally incredulous. I couldn't believe Olivier would do such a thing, especially today.

‘No, I guess it wasn't today,' admitted Marilyn. ‘Maybe yesterday.'

Oh, that Paula really was a witch. What an unkind thing to say!

‘Well, I don't believe it, Marilyn. Maybe Olivier lost his temper and Paula got it wrong.'

‘You think I can act, don't you, Colin?'

I sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Here we go again. How insecure can one person be?

‘No, I don't think you can act! Not in the sense Olivier means.
And thank God you can't. I'm fed up with Olivier implying that there is only one way to act – and that's his way, of course. Olivier can give great performances, but most of the time he's doing nothing more than dazzling impersonations, brilliant caricatures. He's a great stage actor. He can reach out across the footlights and hypnotise an audience into believing anything he wants. He loves to use tricks, false noses and funny wigs. He knows his craft backwards, and he carefully plans how to shock, and to seduce, and to beguile. But as soon as he has to be an ordinary person, he's dreadful. It's as if he needs some special exaggeration – a dagger, a hunchback, a false eye – in order to exist. Without them, he looks awkward and self-conscious. In his early films he was embarrassing.'