Silver Shadows, Golden Dreams Page 8

  He nodded. ‘Without Tennant in that movie I’d have folded it long before the finish. He carried it with sheer sexual exuberance. I want explosions on that screen and together the two of you will be dynamite.’

  She felt a spark of excitement leap along her veins. She had never appeared in the smallest part and Vidal Rakoczi, Hollywood’s greatest director, was telling her that she would be the lead in the biggest film of his career. That she would be playing opposite Rogan Tennant, the screen idol of millions.

  She said suddenly. ‘What if Mr Gambetta doesn’t like me?’

  ‘He likes what he sees on the screen. To Gambetta that’s all that matters.’

  They were sweeping up the driveway of a sprawling colonial mansion. ‘You’ll have to sign a contract and it will have to be for seven years, I hate the damned things but there’s no way round them for the moment.’

  ‘What will the contract mean? That I can work only for Worldwide?’

  ‘Unless it’s to their financial advantage for you to do otherwise. There’ll be renewal options on it, but don’t take any notice of them for now. They’re the least of your worries. And the contract guarantees you a salary.’

  ‘What sort of salary?’ she asked curiously.

  He gave her a down-slanting smile that sent her blood churning. ‘The usual starting salary varies from two hundred and fifty dollars a week to five hundred, depending on the studio’s view of how useful you are going to be to it.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘I’ve never earned any money in my life. Bob took care of me when I left the convent. I wanted to work but he wouldn’t let me.’

  Vidal’s eyes narrowed as he regarded her. A convent. So that was where she had come from. It explained a lot. Her vulnerability. Her naivety.

  ‘You’re going to have quite a little adjusting to do,’ he said dryly. ‘No star in a Rakoczi movie picks up small time cheques. You’ll be on two thousand dollars a week for the duration of The Warrior Queen and we’ll negotiate more when it’s finished.’

  ‘Two thousand!’ For a second she wondered if he was making fun of her and then knew instantly that he was not.

  He laughed at her stunned expression and the chauffeur raised his eyebrows. Mr Rakoczi was not in the habit of laughing. It was an event he could not remember ever happening before.

  ‘We’re here.’ The Rolls had glided up to a brilliantly lit porch. ‘Just be yourself. You’re an original and there’s nothing Gambetta likes better.’

  Gambetta opened the door to them himself, embracing Vidal in a bear-like hug and then standing back and surveying Valentina.

  He was short and stocky, with powerful shoulders and sharp, piercing blue eyes. As he looked down at Valentina he sucked in his breath. Her dress and body was that of a wanton. Her face that of an angel. Her eyes met his directly, without coyness or flirtation and there was an honesty about her that was palpable. He took hold of her hands and kissed them reverently.

  ‘Welcome to Worldwide, my dear. I am sure we are going to have a very profitable relationship.’

  He led them into a vast drawing room with a full-sized movie screen at the far end.

  ‘Vidal tells me that you haven’t seen the rushes yet.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘They are remarkable. Truly remarkable. Jeffers!’ He turned, calling to his manservant. ‘Drinks, please.’ He looked questioningly at Valentina. ‘What is it to be? A Margarita? A dry Martini? Scotch on the rocks?’

  Vidal regarded her with amusement, wondering how she would handle the first of the new situations in which she found herself. He was certain she had never drunk a cocktail in her life and that Martini and Scotch had played no part in her home life with Bob Kelly.

  She hesitated and then said disarmingly, ‘I only drink wine, Mr Gambetta.’

  ‘Then we’ll have champagne to celebrate. Jeffers! Open a bottle of Grande Dame.’

  Jeffers complied and as Gambetta ushered her to a deeply upholstered armchair opposite an Adams fireplace, Vidal mentally gave her ten out of ten.

  The champagne cork exploded skywards and Jeffers poured the frothing champagne into crystal fluted glasses.

  ‘To Worldwide’s newest star!’ Theodore Gambetta raised his glass high, beaming at the thought of all the dollars that would pour into Worldwide’s coffers when Vidal’s masterpiece was released.

  ‘To Valentina,’ Vidal said, and Valentina felt a faint flush heighten her cheeks.

  ‘Now for the rushes,’ Gambetta said, settling himself back in his chair with satisfaction. ‘Lights, Jeffers.’

  The room lights dimmed and from behind them came the whirr of a projector. Valentina gasped, spilling champagne onto her gown as her image flickered onto the screen.

  She was larger than life. Never had she seen herself as the camera saw her. As Vidal had seen her that first, fateful day.

  When the statutory profile and sitting and standing shots had been seen and she appeared as Margaret of Anjou she slowly lowered her glass and gazed at the screen in wonderment.

  Now she knew why the crew had clapped. Why Vidal had been so pleased and why Mr Gambetta had invited her to his home. It was as if something shone out of her. As if she were a diamond and a host of facets sparkled all at once.

  Pleasure seeped through her, pleasure and a growing confidence. She had seen scores of movies with Bob, but never before had her eyes been so riveted to the screen. And it wasn’t because it was herself she was watching. It was because the creature on the screen compelled attention.

  All too soon it was over. ‘To St Albans and to victory!’ Margaret of Anjou cried, and then her image faded from the screen and the opulent room was again bathed in light. For a second no one spoke and then Gambetta said with feeling, ‘When God created you, little girl, he did so for the camera.’

  ‘Flesh impact,’ Vidal said as Jeffers re-filled his glass. ‘Her image on screen doesn’t look like a reflection of flesh, but real flesh. That’s the secret. No matter who else is on that screen, Valentina will be the one the audiences will be looking at.’

  ‘She’s as compelling as Garbo,’ Gambetta said, lighting a cigar, ‘and that can’t be said for another actress in Hollywood at the moment.’ He exhaled a wreath of blue smoke. ‘She’s got something more than Garbo as well, something utterly feminine. I’d defy any man not to feel protective towards her.’

  Again Vidal felt a primeval sense of unease. Gambetta was right and it wasn’t only on screen that she evoked such feelings. He cursed himself again for his momentary lapse of self-control on the beach.

  It had been completely uncalculated. She had fallen against him and he had kissed her. His knuckles whitened and he rose, crossing to the drinks trolley. Kariana was away for months on end and what he did in his private life was his own affair, but he had long ago forged a code of conduct that forbade any intimacies with the stars he directed. It led to complications and his life was complicated enough. He poured himself a large measure of vodka and topped it up with blue curaçao and soda.

  Valentina watched him, feeling once more like a piece of merchandise. They were talking about her as if she was no longer in the room.

  ‘She has a mobility of expression I’ve never come across before,’ he said to Gambetta as he returned to his seat with his drink.

  Gambetta rubbed his hands together joyously. ‘Mayer and Thalberg are going to eat their hearts out when they see her on screen. Jeffers! Bring me that contract, please.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The ubiquitous Jeffers left the room for a minute and returned with a lengthy document which Theodore Gambetta placed before Valentina.

  ‘Just sign your name here on the bottom, where there’s a pencilled cross, and at the bottom of all the subsequent pages.’

  ‘But shouldn’t I read it first?’

  Vidal’s black eyes danced at the expression on Gambetta’s face.

  ‘Legal jargon isn’t easy to understand,’ he said impatiently. ‘I know you haven’t an ag
ent, and believe me, you don’t need one – just accept my word that this document is going to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.’

  ‘Is my salary written in here?’ she asked, sensibly.

  Gambetta stabbed at the print with his forefinger. His latest aquisition was showing signs of intelligence and he wasn’t too used to that in the starlets he signed on. They were usually so grateful at being given a Worldwide contract that they’d have signed their lives away for a dollar if it meant appearing before millions on the silver screen.

  Vidal’s enjoyment deepened. There had been nothing mercenary in Valentina’s request. Only a genuine interest. It would be interesting to see what sort of business acumen she developed in the months and years ahead. That she had a head for finance he didn’t doubt.

  Valentina signed the document that bound her to Worldwide for seven years and that officially gave her the profession of actress.

  Gambetta sighed with relief and quickly pocketed it before she could embark on any other queries.

  ‘Now then,’ he said, leaning back in his deeply upholstered chair and lighting another Havana. ‘What name are we going to give you? Something rare and exotic I think. Perhaps we could pass you off as princess of some exiled European Royal House? I can get publicity to build up an entire background for you within a few days. What about a Spanish royal? Your hair and eyes are dark enough to make Spanish blood credible and there’s hundreds of minor Spanish royals fleeing to America now that those republicans are decimating them.’ He sighed with satisfaction and blew a wreath of blue smoke upwards. ‘We’ll say you’ve fled Spain for America, land of freedom. The public will love that. It makes a great story. We’ll say that in the interest of your adopted country you no longer wish to be addressed by your title but we’ll make damned sure they mention the word princess at every opportunity.’

  He beamed. ‘Now what name? Carlotta de Vallellano? Lucia de Pelayo? Isabella de Salamanca? Which takes your fancy, princess?’

  ‘I am not a princess, Mr Gambetta,’ Valentina said, her voice firm. ‘And I have no intention of misleading people into believing that I am one.’

  Gambetta stared at her. His question had been purely rhetorical. If he said a Worldwide star was an exiled princess then she was an exiled princess. That the star in question should object never entered his head.

  ‘I already have a name,’ she continued undeterred. ‘It is Valentina. That is the name I have signed on my contract and that is the name that I wish to be known by.’

  Theodore Gambetta removed his cigar from his clamped teeth with difficulty and said, ‘All this is very new to you, little girl. Let me assure you that we know best.’ His waving arm indicated Vidal who was sitting some distance away from them nursing his drink. ‘So that’s settled. You’re Spanish. A princess. Now what name is it to be? Isabella or Lucia or Caterina?’

  ‘I think,’ Vidal said, a gleam in his black eyes, ‘that Valentina is correct. Her present name is more suitable than any that we can give her. As for the Spanish background, it’s a good idea, but for someone else.’

  Gambetta frowned and summoned Jeffers to pour him a large Scotch on the rocks.

  ‘Valentina,’ he said experimentally. ‘It sure is better than some of the damn names these girls arrive with. But what about her last name? That’s bound to need altering.’

  ‘I don’t have a last name,’ Valentina said composedly.

  Gambetta stared at her and then snatched the contract from his inside pocket and scanned the foot of the first page.

  ‘I asked for your signature,’ he said, an angry flush staining his face and neck. ‘That means first name and last name.’ He slammed the document back on the small table that held her champagne glass. ‘Unless it’s got both it isn’t legal!’

  Valentina remained unperturbed. A slight smile curved her lips. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Gambetta, but I don’t have a surname.’

  ‘Goddamn it! Everyone has a surname!’ Gambetta raged, swallowing his whisky and holding his glass out to be refilled.

  ‘I am an orphan, Mr Gambetta,’ she said, holding his gaze unflinchingly. ‘Therefore I have only the name by which I am known. And that is Valentina.’

  Gambetta stared at her. She wasn’t pulling a line. She was telling the truth.

  ‘But that’s a great story!’ His rage evaporated as quickly as it had surfaced. ‘A lonely tortured childhood. A heartbreaking search for love and affection …’ He began to pace the room excitedly.

  There was a flash of pain in Valentina’s eyes and Vidal said quickly, ‘The best publicity you can give her, Theo, is that of absolute mystery. No past at all. Let everyone wonder. Let them talk. But tell them nothing.’

  Gambetta halted, swirling his Scotch and drinking deeply. He wasn’t accustomed to being out-manoeuvred. A deep frown creased his brow. It might work. It was a ploy Worldwide had never tried before and there was something essentially mysterious and elusive about the girl sitting opposite him.

  At last he waved his cigar in aquiescence. ‘Okay, okay. I think you’re right, Vidal. No childhood story. No artificial packaging. We’ll let the whole damned town speculate to itseart’s content. That way there’ll be even more talk about her.’ He regarded Valentina through half closed eyes. ‘But we’ll have to come up with a sellable surname. Valentina Veronese,’ he said experimentally to himself. ‘Valentina Vada. Valentina Vila,’ he savoured each as he reeled them off.

  Vidal noticed Valentina’s chin set wilfully and waited with enjoyment for the next confrontation.

  ‘I will not be given a surname,’ Valentina said, and this time there was steel in the low tones. She had been given a surname once. She would not be given one again.

  Gambetta’s patience was fast running out. ‘Now look here …’ he began threateningly.

  Vidal decided it was time to intervene. ‘She doesn’t need one, Theodore,’ he said smoothly. ‘The greatest actresses have always been known by a single name. We speak of Duse or Bernhardt. Goddesses don’t need two names to identify them. One is sufficient. And Valentina will be enough for Worldwide’s greatest star.’

  ‘You really think she’s going to be so big?’ Gambetta growled, unwilling to concede yet again.

  ‘You’ve seen how she comes across on film,’ Vidal said, rising and replenishing his drink. ‘None of the big five have anyone to touch her.’

  ‘Who are the big five?’ Valentina asked, unaware that she had just gone three rounds with one of the toughest men in Hollywood and won every one.

  ‘Metro Goldwyn Mayer, Warner Brothers, Paramount, RKO and 20th Century Fox,’ Vidal said, returning to his seat. ‘The smaller studios are Columbia, Universal and United Artists.’

  ‘And Worldwide?’

  Vidal grinned. ‘Worldwide refuses to be numbered with the big five, but it’s as big and possibly bigger.’

  ‘Worldwide,’ Theodore Gambetta said, with a return of humour, ‘is the greatest studio in this town.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Valentina said impishly, raising her glass.

  Gambetta chuckled. Despite her obstinacy he liked his new acquisition. She had spirit and it was a quality that he admired. He turned to Vidal.

  ‘When does Kariana return from Europe?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. Probably by the end of the month.’

  The room had gone suddenly quiet, the voices of both men changed subtly. Valentina looked from one to the other and knew that they were talking about Vidal’s wife. There was a long silence and then Gambetta said, avoiding Vidal’s eyes, ‘We must have a party for her when she returns.’

  Vidal’s fingers tightened on his glass. ‘I don’t think so, Theo,’ he said, putting down his glass on a low, glass-topped table. ‘Kariana doesn’t like parties.’

  There was another long, uncomfortable silence and then Vidal said, changing the subject, ‘About The Warrior Queen, Theo, I don’t want any interference from the front office.’

  Gambetta turned to Val
entina. ‘How do you like this guy? I give him a cast of thousands and a budget of millions and he’s still not happy.’ He chuckled, but Vidal did not share his joviality.

  Thin white lines had appeared around his mouth. Incredibly he had not given Kariana a thought all evening. Now he was forced to do so and it was as if a palpable burden had settled on his shoulders.

  Valentina remained immobile. Kariana. It was a pretty name, and she would be returning soon. Taking her rightful place at Vidal’s side, happily unaware of the girl who had slept in the guest room of her home and who had fallen irrevocably in love with her husband.

  ‘Tennant was scheduled for Pirate King. He may not be too happy at being withdrawn at such short notice,’ Theodore Gambetta was saying.

  Vidal forced his mind back to the conversation. ‘I’ll talk to him,’ he said, well aware that it would be a mere formality. If Gambetta had agreed he could star in The Warrior Queen, any objections Rogan Tennant might have would be immaterial.

  Valentina’s thoughts were far from The Warrior Queen. She looked up startled as Vidal said for the second time, ‘Are you ready, Valentina?’

  He was standing holding his hand out to her. Trembling she laid her hand in his and rose to her feet.

  ‘You need a wrap,’ Theodore Gambetta said, seeing the tremor that ran through her body and mistaking its cause. ‘Jeffers! Bring the lady a wrap.’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m quite warm enough.’

  Vidal had released her hand. The shivering was subsiding.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Theodore said genially. ‘What’s a mink here or there?’

  A white mink stole was draped around her naked shoulders, its warmth strangely comforting.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, with an effort at a smile. ‘I’ll see that it is returned to you tomorrow.’

  Theodore Gambetta roared with laughter. ‘I do believe you mean it,’ he said at last, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. ‘It’s yours, little girl. The first of many.’

  Jeffers showed them to the door, and as they stepped onto the porch they could still hear deep rumbles of laughter coming from the room they had just left.