My Week with Marilyn (15 page)

‘Oh, how lovely! Of course I know Ninette. I admire her enormously. What a coincidence. Do give her my love. Tell her from one of the Clark twins.'

‘I will. And what are you doing here, Mr Clark, if I may ask, in Miss Monroe's house at two o'clock in the morning?'

‘I'm working on the film Miss Monroe is making at Pinewood Studios, and I'm, er, a friend of Miss Monroe's as well.'

‘And Miss Monroe's husband? I presume she has a husband?'

‘He's in America. I think.'

‘Oh, really? And how long has he been gone?'

‘Oh, a week. Six days, to be exact. And the baby, doctor?'

Milton looked completely stunned.

‘Oh, you know about that, do you? Well, it's true. Miss Monroe was about three weeks pregnant, I would say. Not now, of course. But she can always try again. It isn't the end of the world. I must be off. Goodnight, gentlemen.'

And he climbed into his car and drove away.

‘I'd better be going too,' I said.

‘Yes, Colin, you had. I told you it would end in tears.'

‘My conscience is clear, Milton.' I said. ‘No tears from me. I'm sad for Marilyn, of course, although I find it hard to think of her as a mum.'

‘Perhaps, Colin . . .'

‘I'll tell you what, Milton. I'm going to see Marilyn once more, tomorrow. Just once, I promise. After that I'll vanish back into the scenery. OK, Milton? Goodnight.'

The fairy story had ended, as dramatically as it had begun.

‘Marilyn, darling, the time has come to say goodbye.'

As I drove over to Parkside House the next day I knew exactly what I had to say. Somehow I had an image of Marilyn, reclining on a garden bench in the shade of a beech tree, wrapped in her white towelling robe. I would walk across the lawn towards her. She would be very pale, lying there with her eyes closed, very quiet but not asleep.

‘Marilyn, darling . . .' I rehearsed it again. One thing was certain: she must wipe our friendship from her mind completely. I had telephoned Milton from the studio at eight a.m., and he had told me that Arthur Miller was returning that very afternoon, five days earlier than planned. He had heard of last night's happenings from Hedda, I suppose, and while I did not think she would have mentioned me, there was a very real danger that Marilyn might, just to make him jealous. Added to this, she could sometimes be mischievous. ‘I kissed Colin,' she had said to Milton, just to tease him, and she had thought it highly amusing, although Milton – and I – had not. Milton had warned me that if Marilyn ever became dependent on anyone, she tended to add them to her retinue without too much thought of the consequences. She thought nothing of having two psychoanalysts, two dramatic coaches, or two Hollywood agents at the same time. She had sometimes had two lovers simultaneously in the past, as Milton himself could testify. It wasn't that she was duplicitous or cunning. It was simply that she really didn't think it was important.
She seemed incapable of comprehending the effect she had on those who surrounded her, and how much she meant to them; this even applied to her husbands, I suspect.

I had made sure that I was at the studios earlier than usual, and that I was waiting outside the dressing rooms when Olivier arrived.

‘Morning, boy.' Olivier's usual greeting. ‘Marilyn here yet? Is she going to surprise us again?'

‘I'm afraid not, Sir Laurence. She was taken seriously ill in the middle of the night. Well, it looked serious, anyway. A doctor had to be called, and he said she must stay in bed all day.'

‘Good gracious. Bed all day? That sounds bad. And what illness did the doctor diagnose?'

‘It turns out that it's only a very bad period. But Marilyn was in considerable pain, and she lost a lot of blood.'

I wasn't going to mention the baby. That was something private between Marilyn and Arthur.

‘I see. Josh Logan warned me about that possibility. Evidently she always needs a day off once a month. We allowed for that in the schedule. But of course we've used up all that time by now. Whatever next?'

‘Milton tells me that Arthur is returning from New York this afternoon. I'm sure that will help. Marilyn told me she's going to work especially hard every day from now on, like she did yesterday, and I think she's serious. Her relationship with Arthur was a bit frantic when they first arrived, and his departure gave her a terrible shock. I think she'll concentrate on her career for a while now. At least until this film is finished.'

‘I hope you're right, Colin.'

‘And it's time I got out of the equation, Larry. So with your permission I'll go over to Parkside this morning and make that clear. Not that there has been anything improper between Marilyn and me, but I wouldn't want Arthur to misunderstand.'

‘No, quite so. You run along. Try to find out if she'll be in tomorrow. Please assure her that we all want to finish this film as
soon as possible. Personally I wish I'd never set eyes on the woman, but don't tell her that.'

What a pity it is that Olivier never let himself get to know Marilyn properly, I thought, as I drove to Parkside House. This could have been a great film, and a wonderful experience for all of us.

Marilyn was awake, Roger told me when I arrived, and the house was full of people as usual. She was in the bedroom – so much for my shaded lawn – and I did not have the courage to go in unannounced. It was nearly an hour before Paula took pity on me, and called me upstairs.

‘Marilyn, it's Colin. Do you want to see him?'

That was bad. I hadn't needed an introduction yesterday.

‘Sure. Oh, hi, Colin. Come on in. Now, don't say you've come to say goodbye.'

How did she read my mind so accurately? You could never tell with Marilyn.

‘You're not going anywhere, are you? I've decided I want to finish the film as quickly as possible. Why, it was you who told me I must do that. And Paula is going back to the States soon to get a new permit or something, so I'll need you to hold my hand as well as Sir Laurence.'

‘I'm sorry, Marilyn,' I said, taking no notice of Paula, who had sat down beside me, ‘but I don't think you should even catch my eye after today, let alone hold my hand. Mr Miller is coming back this afternoon, and it's so important that he doesn't find out that we're friends, or have been friends over this past week. We both know that we did nothing wrong. We know that we just had fun and enjoyed each other's company. But Mr Miller might find that very hard to understand. He might think that while the cat was away, the mice were behaving like rats.'

Marilyn gave a weak laugh.

‘I guess you're right, Colin. He never seemed to mind about that sort of thing in the old days, but he's much more intense now.'

‘Marilyn, darling, you are his wife now. And I don't care what
you say about the note you read on his desk – he worships you. Just as I do.'

Marilyn sighed.

‘The trouble is that you never can believe how wonderful you are,' I said. ‘I suppose it's because of your childhood. You assume that everything nice is going to be taken away from you in the end, so you're frightened to get your hopes up.'

‘I adore Arthur, too,' said Marilyn in a whisper. ‘I really do. He's so strong, and so wise. And he's a gentleman. He always treated me like a lady. I wanted to marry him from when I first saw him in Hollywood, all those years ago . . .' She paused.

‘I think you're made for each other,' I lied. ‘You need someone who takes you seriously. Who sees what a great person you are. No ordinary man could do that.'

Marilyn looked relieved. ‘Gee, Colin. You make me feel better right away.'

‘You are great, Marilyn. And you are going to have a great career, and a great life. Mind you, after this production is over you must be more careful which films you decide to make. Maybe you should take Mr Strasberg's advice. Not about your day-to-day routine, but about scripts. He knows a lot about scripts.'

Paula beamed, suddenly my ally for life. She got up and went to the door. ‘I'll leave you with Colin now,' she said.

‘When this picture is over,' Marilyn went on, ‘I'm going to settle down and be a good wife to Arthur. I'm going to learn to make matzo-ball soup just as good as his dad's. I'm not going to make any other movies until I've shown Arthur I can look after him. He'll never want to leave me again, that's for sure.'

‘So you see why it's so important that he shouldn't suspect that there was anything between us?'

‘Nothing serious. He wouldn't think that, would he? That would be terrible.'

‘Well, he might. So you must be very careful. You must say nothing at all.'

‘Nothing?'

‘Nothing. Just imagine what his reaction would be if he thought that I'd done something which had resulted in you losing his baby.'

Marilyn gasped.

‘I'm sorry to be so blunt, Marilyn, and we both know that I didn't do any such thing. But just imagine. What would he say? What might he do? I know what would happen if our parts were reversed and you were my wife.'

Marilyn opened her eyes wide.

‘I'd kill him.'

‘Oh, Colin.' Marilyn began to sob quietly. ‘I love Arthur so much. How can I show him? How can I convince him? Do you think I can ever give him a child? Do you think he wants a child? We've never discussed it. I know he'd be a wonderful father. Why, he's like a father to me. I'll never lose him. I'll make it all up to him. I'll never disappoint him again.'

‘Of course you won't, Marilyn. And I don't think you ever have. He's frightened now, just as you are. You are both artists, great artists. Did you think it was going to be easy? Great artists need other artists in their lives. It takes one to understand one. But they will always clash – every now and then. A great writer like Mr Miller needs to be selfish in order to create his masterpiece. And so do you. Sure, an actor like Olivier can just walk out on the stage and play a part. But when you give a great performance, you actually
become
the person; you feel their joy and feel their pain. That is an incredible strain, but that is what makes you a star.'

‘Ooh, Colin.'

Marilyn was beginning to cheer up. ‘So what must I do now?'

‘Give Arthur a great welcome home. No sex for a bit, though. Tell him how much you missed him. Tell him you've decided to settle down and finish the film as quickly as possible. Tell him that you won't bother him when he is writing – Milton said he had some deadline now. Ask him to come and pick you up at the studio each evening when Paula is away. Whenever Paula is here, don't let her
stay with you past seven in the evening. All good, simple rules, Marilyn, and not too hard to obey.'

‘Yes, sir,' said Marilyn, giving a little salute. ‘Anything else?'

‘Yes. Never look at me, not so much as a glance. You may be a great actress, but I'm not, and my face could easily betray what I feel.'

‘What
do
you feel, Colin? Tell me.'

‘I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to spend a few days in the company of the most wonderful, brave and beautiful person in the world, but . . .'

‘“But”?'

‘But if Arthur ever mentions my name, you've got to shrug and say, “Colin? Oh, he's just a messenger, nobody of any importance at all.”'

‘Oh, Colin. I couldn't say that. But I understand about Arthur.'

Marilyn stared gloomily at the quilt. Then suddenly she brightened up.

‘I'll tell you what – I'll wink. No one can stop me winking at you, and you've got to wink back. When things get tough at the studio, when Sir Laurence gets mad, I'm gonna look for Colin, and wink. And you'd better watch out. Paula is going back to New York soon, so I may wink quite a lot.'

It was such a brave, childlike solution to a potentially tragic situation that I lifted Marilyn's hand up off the bed and kissed it.

‘I'll wink back,' I said. ‘Never fear.'

And so it was over. A brief flirtation between a young man of twenty-three and a beautiful married woman, who was as innocent as she was mature.

No one really seemed any the worse. Marilyn had lost the baby, of course, but I am not sure that was such a bad thing. I simply could not imagine her as a mother. There had been nobody to look after her as a child, and consequently she had no idea how to look after anyone else. Each time she had got married she had tried desperately hard to take care of her husband, but she always made a total mess of it, and they ended up looking after her. She was, I am afraid to say, just too self-obsessed.

Marilyn always said that she had an ugly side to her character, but if she had, I can honestly say that I never saw it. Confused, frightened and totally lacking in self-confidence, she had not got that sense of her own identity which is so essential for a stable life. Like many celebrities she felt that she couldn't cope with the demands that were thrust on her, and this made her quick to suspect the motives of people whom she had allowed to get too close. Luckily I never fell into that category, so we could remain chums.

Marilyn's idea that she had a dark side helped her to explain why everyone seemed to desert her in the end. She never knew whom she could trust, and this was because the answer was probably: ‘No one, no one in the whole world' – all through her life.

One reason she failed to take people with her was that she had no
idea of where she was going herself. Nevertheless, she got there. No one can dispute that, and, basically, she did it on her own.