Countess Dracula (3 page)

Holdaway headed straight through, ignoring the staircase and moving deeper inside the house. ‘I want to see the courtyard,’ he said. ‘The garden … that was where she really lived. All of this was just the walls that kept everyone else out.’

‘Not working so well now, are they?’ said Margaret Riggers, strolling past him, acting as if she owned the place.

‘No secrets here any more,’ Holdaway said as they came out in a large living area. ‘Nothing left to hide.’

There was a big central fireplace, now little more than a pile of wet claylike soot. To one side there was a seating area, with chairs still in place, their upholstery torn or absent altogether, their flanks scratched and gouged by animals that had made beds of them. On the other side was a large dining table, made from a heavy dark wood that had survived the years of neglect better than anything else they had seen so far.

‘What I wouldn’t give to take that back home,’ said Jerry. ‘I could bring that up so you could see your goddamn face in it.’

‘Well,’ said Margaret, ‘if that wouldn’t be enough to put you off your meal I don’t know what would.’

‘Are you calling my husband ugly?’ Vonda asked. But Margaret ignored her, heading straight over to the far side where there would once have been a massive set of French windows but which was now open to the air. Beyond, sunk down so that they loomed over it, they could see the massive courtyard garden, a space all of five hundred feet long and three hundred wide. It was like looking down into a small jungle and as Leo came up behind Margaret and Holdaway he couldn’t help but imagine what might be inside it.

‘There’s probably animals in there,’ he said, which made Holdaway laugh.

‘There certainly always were,’ the old man said. ‘Dangerous animals indeed.’ He turned to address them all with a slight theatricality that Leo couldn’t fail to notice. Once an actor, always an actor …

‘The silver screen was where Elizabeth Sasdy’s reputation was born, that courtyard was where it grew and, eventually, that was where it also died. In blood, death and terror.’

‘Sounds groovy,’ said Cheryl, laughing. ‘Tell us more.’

And so he did.

FIRST REEL: THE THIEVING MAGPIE

THE SCREEN SPUTTERS WITH PRINT DAMAGE, SCRATCHES AND LIGHT FLASHES. AN OLD NEWSREEL BEGINS TO PLAY. SEPIA-TONED, OVER-CRANKED SO THE FOOTAGE MOVES AT ONE AND A HALF TIMES NATURAL SPEED. CROWDS OF PEOPLE GATHER AROUND GRAUMAN’S CHINESE THEATRE. A TANGIBLE SENSE OF EXCITEMENT.

VOICE-OVER: And here we are at the Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard where crowds gather to wait for the thrilling premiere of the new picture from Sunset Studios,
Where the Devil Takes Me
. A savage romance set against the backdrop of Eastern Mongolia, it promises to be a smash hit with the public and critics alike.

A LIMOUSINE PULLING UP AGAINST THE KERB, THE CROWDS JUMPING.

V.O. (Cont.) And we all know why! Here they are, Hollywood’s golden couple and stars of
Where the Devil Takes Me
– Elizabeth Sasdy and Frank Nayland!

THE COUPLE GET OUT OF THE CAR, SMILING GRACIOUSLY TO THEIR FANS. SASDY IS BLONDE, PERHAPS A LITTLE MORE CURVACEOUS THAN IS THE CURRENT PETITE FASHION. SHE IS WEARING A WHITE GOWN THAT SHIMMERS DESPITE THE DAMAGED FILM FOOTAGE. NAYLAND IS EVERY INCH THE MALE IDOL, SQUARE-JAWED, SLICKED-BACK HAIR AND A PHYSIQUE THAT FILLS OUT EVERY CORNER OF HIS IMMACULATE TUXEDO.

V.O. (Cont.) Who doesn’t love these stars of our age? Whose hearts couldn’t be warmed by their story?

CLOSE-UP ON SASDY AS SHE LAUGHS, HER EYES LUMINESCENT.

V.O. (Cont.) Elizabeth Sasdy, the all-American farm girl from Wisconsin. Spotted by a Hollywood talent scout, she has shot to fame over the last three years, appearing in over ten films for Sunset. Living the dream, proof that anybody can make it in this country of ours!

CLOSE-UP ON NAYLAND, WAVING AT THE CROWD. HE APPEARS TO SPOT A FACE HE KNOWS. HE POINTS AND SMILES.

V.O. (Cont.) Frank Nayland, lord of the English stage, now idol of the silver screen, the man all the ladies wanted to walk them up the aisle.

TWO-SHOT. NAYLAND AND SASDY PULLING CLOSE TOGETHER, SHE LOOKING UP AT HIM WITH CLEAR ADORATION IN HER EYES, HE LOOKING DOWN AT THE MOST PRECIOUS THING IN HIS WORLD.

V.O. (Cont.) But plucky Elizabeth beat them all to it! The happiest couple in the country, Frank Nayland and Elizabeth Sasdy – it’s not just the moving pictures that have happy endings!

NEWSREEL FLICKERS. THE FILM RUNS OUT, LEAVING THE SCREEN A BURNING WHITE.

FADE TO BLACK

ONSCREEN CAPTION: 23 JANUARY 1934, FIVE YEARS LATER

IT TOOK FRANK
Nayland a few moments to discern what it was that he was seeing, to translate the multitude of limbs, the writhing of sweating flesh and break it down into its constituent parts.

‘What?’ his wife asked, raising her mouth from the groin of the Puerto Rican boy splayed under her. ‘You don’t think to knock?’

What with her thick Hungarian accent and her slavering lips Nayland had trouble understanding her words, though her meaning was clear enough. She hated nothing more than being interrupted. Her other attendant clearly had no such compunction, manoeuvring in behind her and pounding away at her rump with the sort of relish that can only come from a young man who earns his living by the hour.

Elizabeth continued to stare at Nayland, seemingly unmoved by the exertions behind her.

‘Get out,’ she said, her voice quiet and flat. ‘The last thing I need to see is your pathetic face.’ She protected herself from seeing more of it by closing her eyes and resuming her suckling.

Nayland left the room, saying nothing.

He stood in the hallway for a moment, staring up at the Lempicka portrait of his treacherous wife and wishing he could take a knife to it, maybe carve the smile he couldn’t find on his own face into the oil-paint representation of hers.

As the noise of sex built to a crescendo behind him he decided to at least save himself the experience of hearing every pump and thrust. He made his way down their wide staircase, looking down at the perfection of their entrance hall, the opulent foyer that greeted all who came to their door. If only it matched their actual life.

‘I didn’t see you go up there,’ said Patience, their housekeeper, ‘or I would have told you not to.’ Her face was as impassive as ever, always the figure of propriety even here in a house of sin.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Nayland said. ‘I should know better by now.’

Patience nodded slightly, though whether in agreement or deference he couldn’t decide. He didn’t care to guess so he walked off, making his way out into the garden.

The air was cool and it felt like just what he needed. He sat on the steps and let it chill some of the anger from his face. That emotion was quickly followed by embarrassment. After all, he had never been in any doubt concerning the nature of their marriage. They were a Hollywood confection, all part of the Sasdy Legend, like Elizabeth’s Wisconsin homeland. He was window dressing, beefcake to help sell the story of her pure romantic heart. If she even had a heart – he had yet to glimpse it.

Not that Nayland hadn’t benefited from the arrangement, of course. Attached to hers, his reputation had risen just as high, his fortunes swollen as large. It had been a sensible business arrangement and one that he had entered into willingly, because at the time he hadn’t had the slightest feeling for Elizabeth. It was a constant source of self-disgust that now, after years of abuse and infidelity, he had fallen in love with her. What sort of idiot did that make him?

There was the distant sound of birds in the trees and Nayland looked towards the hills, watching as something took to the sky and soared towards the horizon. He envied it.

The doorbell rang and he got to his feet, the false smile he dropped into place on his face brilliant through years of practice.

He heard Patience open the door. That sound was followed by the garrulous voice of Fabio, their manager. The last person he wanted to see.

Fabio wore his ethnicity like a badge, claiming to have Sicilian blood and the ear of every unsavoury crime lord in the country. Nayland didn’t believe a word of it. Fabio was corrupt enough, of course – he worked in Hollywood – but Nayland didn’t believe a real criminal would have the patience needed to deal with him. Five minutes, Nayland thought, that’s all it would take in the company of genuine mobsters before someone reached for a gun and put everyone out of their misery.

‘Hey, Frankie!’ Fabio shouted, holding out his short arms. To Nayland he looked like a beetle trapped on its back in the sun, his massive belly the greater part of him. Nayland accepted the hug. The manager buried his face into the actor’s chest like a frightened child seeking comfort.

‘So glad I caught you on your own first,’ he said in a stage whisper. ‘Where is she?’

‘Busy.’

‘Then we can talk?’

Nayland nodded and led him back out to the garden. On the way, Fabio ordered something to drink from Patience as if she was his servant, not Nayland’s.

They sat at a small table by the pool, Nayland trying to soak up the calm around him and cancel out Fabio’s whine.

‘Chester’s been calling again,’ he was saying. ‘He really wants you for the picture and it’s perfect for you. You play a policeman in a little town … I don’t know where the hell it’s supposed to be … Bavaria, fucking Transylvania … you know, whatever set’s still standing at Universal. Horse-drawn carts and old guys with their pants tucked into their socks. Something’s draining blood from the local maidens and it’s your job to hunt them down.’

‘Sounds great,’ Nayland replied with heavy sarcasm.

‘Hey, it’s work and the audiences love this shit. They’ll get in Lugosi or Atwill or Karloff or one of those guys and they’ll be screaming in the aisles. That’s what the people want these days, you know? Mad scientists and vampires.’

‘I don’t like that kind of picture.’

‘Who cares? I’m not asking you to watch the fucking thing, I’m asking you to be in it. Take the cheque, damn you – they’re few and far between these days.’

‘What happened to all the romantic leads?’

‘They went to the younger and brighter guys. Come on, Frankie, you know this – don’t make me go through it with you.’

‘I’m not old.’

‘In Hollywood terms you are, Frankie. Besides, you know it’s not just about your age. Your name isn’t what it once was.’

‘Because of Elizabeth.’

‘Because of Elizabeth, and if you insist on staying here …’

‘You’re the one that said we should be married in the first place.’

‘That was then. Years ago. Aeons. Whole generations have passed. Back then it was the thing to do, then she began having her … problems.’ Brutal as Fabio could be, he knew better than to be too blunt in front of Nayland. ‘At which point she became poison. You should have been out of this marriage three years ago. Nobody would have cared. If you’d done that …’

‘I’d still have a career?’

‘Oh hell, Frankie, you still have a career now if you want it. But you’re not making it easy for me, you know? You’re being obstructive, being …’

‘Faithful?’

‘Don’t give me that!’ Fabio seemed genuinely angry now, leaning back in his chair and fixing his client with a puffy-faced stare. ‘You’re supposed to be an actor, damn it, so learn when to maintain character and when not. Back then it made sense for the two of you to get together. Christ, it’s tried and tested … the people love a romantic story. You gave her legitimacy, she gave you a profile. You had a couple of years of box-office gold. But then …’

‘Everything changed.’

‘What doesn’t, Frankie? Life is one big change and you have to ride it. Elizabeth was great when all she had to do was make love to the camera. But you know as well as I do that it’s hard to maintain the pretence of a poor girl made good from Connecticut …’

‘Wisconsin.’

‘Wherever. The point is, audiences liked that story, they bought into it. What are they going to think when this all-American beauty opens her mouth and they can’t understand a word she says?’

‘Her accent’s not that strong.’

‘Frankie, she sounds like she’s chewing the words up and spitting them out. Nobody cares with the likes of Lugosi, they love it, they make him even more horrible … but Elizabeth? Who wants to fall in love with someone who sounds like she milks yaks for her morning coffee?’

Nayland might have admitted that he had.

‘She’s taking lessons.’

‘I know, with Cecil Lundy. He’s good. Hell, he’s the best. But he tells me it’s like trying to push soup uphill. She ain’t going to be Fay Wray any time soon. Besides …’ Fabio sighed and lowered his voice. ‘I hate to say this, you know I do, but she’s losing her looks, she’s getting old. If she still had the magic she had ten years ago, then, screw it, I could have sold her into anything, whatever she sounds like. But now?

‘Hollywood is a heartless bitch, Frankie: it doesn’t give two fucks about your feelings. Elizabeth has had her day. Short of a miracle she’s not going to be working again soon and unless you jump ship she’s going to end up taking you down with her.’

Elizabeth lay back in her bed and let the breeze of the fan dry the sweat of sex from her. Just for a moment, the briefest of seconds, she was happy.

It never lasted.

‘I don’t pay you to sleep,’ she told the Puerto Rican, pushing him with her foot. He sat up, bleary-eyed. What was he on? He was nineteen or twenty but his pretty face was hanging from the bones in a way that spoke of strong dope.

‘You want go again?’ he asked, showing some of the stamina of his age. A listless hand grabbed at her thigh.

‘No, I want you gone. Both of you.’

She slapped at her other paid lover, an Eastern European who had tanned his skin to a perfect bronze that must have taken almost constant effort to maintain. He was a beautiful little bastard, she thought, and he knew it.