Time to Be in Earnest (40 page)

This is the only one of my novels which has not earned its advance, a depressing and somewhat demeaning thought. But it has produced more correspondence and more controversy, particularly in theological circles, than any other novel I have written.

I had a most helpful talk today with Michele Buck, Controller of Drama at United Film and Television Productions, about an irritating complication which has arisen in connection with the televising of a third Cordelia Gray series by Ecosse Films.

For the first time I had decided, after consultations with Carol Heaton and much thought, that Ecosse Films could have the rights to the character so that they could continue to make Cordelia Gray television series, writing original stories. I would have some rights of consultation, but essentially the same thing would happen with Cordelia as happened with Colin Dexter’s
Morse
. I had confidence in this decision after seeing their
Mrs. Brown
, a film of quality and great sensitivity. I liked the people at Ecosse and felt that I could rely on their integrity and good faith. And the first Cordelia Gray series confirmed my high opinion. The screenplay was true to the book in fact and spirit, was well acted and directed, and Helen Baxendale as Cordelia fulfilled all our expectations.

I was less happy with the second series, the first real test for Ecosse since this was not based on one of my books. There was some good acting but the pace seemed to me too slow with suspense built up which came to nothing, while Cordelia had become ineffectual, dithering and incompetent, willing apparently to see the case solved and the husband of the victim identified as a murderer without a shred of convincing evidence, forensic or otherwise. The police work was incredible, indeed at times risible.

When I was shown the outline to the proposed plot I stressed that in any detective story the finding of the body is a crucial moment, both visually and in terms of character and plot. I suggested that it would be most effective if the body were found by Cordelia. This would have been psychologically as well as visually effective, since she would have had to
face for the first time in the television series the reality of the job she was doing. Instead, when the series was shown, we saw neither the body nor its discovery, and Cordelia, when interviewed by the police, didn’t even ask how the victim had died. I myself still don’t know how she was killed.

And now a fresh complication. I discovered it when sitting under the dryer at my hairdresser’s and looking through
Hello! At
the back was an article which stated that Helen Baxendale was pregnant but would continue as Cordelia Gray and the plot “would accommodate the pregnancy.” When I got home I rang Robert Bernstein, who said that Ecosse couldn’t wait to film until after the birth but that they had agreed on a plot line. Cordelia would have an affair with an old boyfriend who would then disappear to the United States, leaving her, the brave little woman, to cope alone.

In an attempt to salvage what I could, I wrote in April to Ecosse and suggested that Cordelia could have gone on holiday to Italy, met an old lover who was now dying of a brain tumour, and out of compassion and the remembrance of the past, had had a brief affair. Psychologically Cordelia might have thought that her job as a detective was paradoxically making her too remote from real life, too unwilling to take risks, and that for once she was acting with reckless generosity. I still very much disliked the idea of her becoming pregnant, but at least this would make it more believable. I pointed out that a modern, intelligent, responsible young woman does not deprive her child of a father unless that father is vicious or otherwise unsuitable, in which case presumably Cordelia would not have loved him. I even provided in my note of 7th April a page of suggested dialogue. It was a month before a reply came, saying that they were adhering to the original idea.

I then made it plain through my agent that I wished to dissociate myself from the series and, in particular, to have the overall title,
An Unsuitable Job for a Woman
, removed. It was because of this that Ecosse had to go to United Film and Television Productions, for whom they were making the series, and the matter came for the first time to Michele’s attention. She totally shares my concern and will do what she can to put matters right, at least as far as the story line is concerned. Robert Bernstein has suggested that we have a meeting, but there is really no point in that. Ecosse have made it abundantly clear that they neither value nor want any input from me and I think I must now concentrate on distancing myself from the series.

Disappointment in the quality of the second series is less important
than the way in which Ecosse deliberately kept from me the news about Helen’s pregnancy. I can perfectly understand her wish not to make the news public until after the first twelve weeks, but Ecosse, while agreeing to keep her secret, should have made it plain to her that they had an obligation under the contract to tell me as the author, quite apart from the courtesy due between people in a position of trust.

I feel more cheerful now that Michele has taken the matter in hand. But whatever story line is adopted, the damage, as far as I am concerned, can’t be repaired, since Cordelia with an illegitimate child is no longer my character. During my January tour of the States I was constantly urged by readers to write another Cordelia Gray story and, before this happened, at least that was an option. I am not at all optimistic that we shall succeed in persuading Ecosse to drop the overall title
An Unsuitable Job for a Woman
. There is, after all, no copyright in titles and I imagine that legally we can’t stop them continuing to use it.

The moral here is never let go of the rights to a character; but effectively one always does that with television. It is remarkable how powerful the television companies are and how much control over their work authors lose under the normal television contracts. But most of us are only too happy to have our books televised. The medium is so powerful that inevitably it brings readers in thousands, at least to the paperback editions. And on the whole I have been lucky, first with Anglia Films and now with United Film and Television Productions. When the Anglia film of
Death of an Expert Witness
was made in 1983 it was, as far as I remember, in seven hourly episodes. Today we are lucky to get three. This is due more to financial restrictions than to new methods of direction, although they do play a part. The more leisurely development of plot and character is seldom possible now.

Talking about television with my friends who have also had their works adapted for the small screen, I find we agree on a number of dos and don’ts which it would be useful, but alas impracticable, to include in the contract. Here, in the unlikely event that any television producer or director is interested, are our main points:

1. Don’t attempt to televise a novel unless you are really interested in the work. Too often it seems that you are interested only in acquiring the title and the name of the author, and are then happy to proceed with something which bears very little resemblance to the original work.
   
2. Novelists accept that television is a visual medium and that things may have to be shown which are otherwise described. But consider first whether the actors could actually communicate in words rather than have everything shown in pictures.
   
3. Don’t fundamentally alter the chief character. With Dalgliesh, the first director decided, as he told me, to bring him down-market. I had, after all, decided to create a detective who was the son of a Norfolk vicar. That had been my choice and I don’t see why television should decide that this was altogether too middle-class for their purposes.
   
4. Where there is original dialogue, why not use it as far as possible? I was very lucky with the Anglia treatment of
   A Taste for Death
   , one of the best of the Dalgliesh series. Dame Wendy Hiller took the novel on the set and frequently remarked: “In the book I say this. Why can’t I say it on screen?” It is interesting that writers who are both good and successful, like John Mortimer, seldom alter the original dialogue;
   Brideshead Revisited
   was almost entirely Waugh. I suspect that adaptors who are less successful can’t resist the temptation to have their own words on the screen.
   
5. As it may be necessary to cut out incidents and characters, what is the point of adding additional ones?
   
6. Must we always have a car chase? Men may like them (although I can’t think why); most women find them boring in the extreme. And if you must have a car chase, must it go on for so long? It need last only as long as it takes us to go and make the tea.
   

Planning to go to Southwold with Alixe for the weekend, I confidently telephoned a friend, who comes in to feed Polly-Hodge when I am away and who holds a key, but was disconcerted to hear that she was in Gibraltar on holiday—so what to do about Polly-Hodge? I decided to risk taking her. She made some protest when urged into the large wicker basket but was at once silent when the car moved off. We placed the basket
on the back seat facing us so that she could both see and hear us. She sat, paws folded inwards, eyes fixed ahead, resolutely resisting the temptation to sleep in case the immense purring creature accompanying us should get out of control.

There were no complaints on the journey until we stopped at a Little Chef on the A12 and decided to have coffee. As soon as we carried her into the café the soft complaining mew began. The waitress at the Little Chef wasn’t happy either and explained apologetically that no animals were allowed. We should, of course, have known this, so we took two polystyrene mugs of coffee out to the car. Alixe had decided after our last foray through the East End that she would take the M40 and then the M25—a longer but, we hoped, swifter route. It worked well both going and coming. We reached Southwold in excellent time for lunch.

There was a sea mist all day on Saturday, the air sweet, soft and warm against the skin. At Blythburgh, looking over the estuary, it was impossible to see if the tide was in as water and sky were an indistinguishable iridescent whiteness. We drove to Snape along the coast road between high banks splattered with red poppies, stopping at Leiston to see the museum, which Alixe hadn’t previously visited. It is well arranged, staffed by volunteers and has the charm and interest of all well-kept local museums. It shows the history of the firm of Garrett’s, who, at the height of their success, made steam engines and agricultural machinery for home and export and employed as many as 700 local people. I particularly liked the agricultural machinery and the large wooden caravan in which the farm labourers ate and slept while at work on the fields. Alixe was moved most by one of the exhibits from the last war: a tattered Union Jack which had lain on the altar of a crude chapel in a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp, had been placed over the coffins of the many dead, and was at last raised when the camp was liberated. There is always a slight melancholy about these small museums; so many lives lived and lost, a way of life gone forever, each grainy photograph a small memento mori.

After the museum we went to the Trading Post, where I bought a Victorian jug and a large Victorian print in its original frame. Some of these prints, although overly sentimental, are beautifully drawn and delicately coloured and seem to have a timeless charm. We loaded it in the back of the car then went on to Snape for lunch at the pub, the Plough and Sail. It was warm enough to eat outside in comfort and we enjoyed roast lamb, perfectly cooked vegetables and sticky toffee pudding fresh from
the oven, which was among the best I have ever tasted. I had thought that the sticky toffee pudding at the Ivy could not be bettered, but this was its equal. To eat a cold meal in the fresh air is always agreeable, but to enjoy a well-cooked hot meal is a particular and rarer delight.

After lunch we went to Aldeburgh, parked the car and walked along the beach before returning to Southwold by the coast road. Nettie de Montmorency came at six o’clock to drink red wine and to keep us abreast with local news. We then spent a lazy evening watching a video of
A Room with a View
.