Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool (6 page)

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why a hell of an inquest?’

‘Well,’ she explained. ‘If she does die, and you say that a doctor seems to think that she will, then you’re going to have a problem phoning the police and explaining to
them that you’ve got a dead American actress up in your back bedroom, aren’t you, son? It is a bit unusual.’

‘Yes, but how can you help me? You’ve got to help me. I don’t know what to do.’

‘You’ve got a young voice,’ the woman said. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-nine,’ I answered.

‘Mm . . .’ she paused, ‘I’ve got a thought . . .’

The idea was that as Gloria was a guest at the house she couldn’t really object to another guest being invited, who happened to be a doctor.

Doctor Casey, a small, elderly man who spoke with a gentle Irish accent, arrived a few hours later. He was semi-retired, had a private practice and lived locally.

My mother opened the door to the doctor and showed him into the living room, the room reserved for strangers or important people. With the exception of my father, who was still out with the dog,
we were all standing uneasily waiting for him to arrive. I was by the window under the hanging plants. Joe and Jessie stood by the sideboard with the glass doors, behind which were displayed a
hoard of ornaments which my mother had been given over the years by other members of the family who’d been on holidays to Wales or Blackpool or the Isle of Man. At each end of the sideboard
stood two chalk black cats which promised good luck from Ireland and between them, on one leg, stood a Flamenco dancer in a black twirling frock, which my sister Maisie brought back from
Benidorm.

My mother had given instructions to the effect that, as she was now taking control of the situation, we had to keep our mouths shut in front of the doctor until she had had her say. He, however,
spoke first.

‘There’s an awful lot of photographs that you have around the room,’ he said.

‘Yes, Doctor,’ my mother replied. ‘They’re just some pictures of my family.’

‘It’s an awful lot of family that you have,’ he looked concerned.

‘Yes, Doctor. I’ve got five sons, four daughters, thirty-four grandchildren and twenty-seven great-grandchildren, I married very young.’

‘Phew! Mother of God! You must be a very strong and healthy woman.’

‘Oh I am, Doctor,’ my mother agreed. ‘But I do have a permanent backache and I’ve had chronic bronchitis since the war.’

‘Oh that’s a terrible complaint. Does it affect your nerves?’

‘Oh yes, Doctor. Me nerves have been badly affected, but not so much as they are now with all this going on in the house.’

‘Yes,’ he sympathized. ‘It’s a terrible situation that you have on your hands. Everything has been explained to me by the health authorities.’

‘And I’ve got to get to Australia next week!’ she declared. ‘I’ve got a passage booked on the aeroplane. I couldn’t go and leave this girl the way she is,
doctor, but I’ve got to go and see my son who I haven’t seen for sixteen years. Gloria should be in a hospital. She should be having proper medical attention and care.’

‘Shall I go and tell Gloria that you’re here, Doctor?’ I could see that my mother was getting a bit too worked up.

‘Oh no,’ he replied. ‘Let’s not get her into a panic with a warning. I’ll just go up to the room and you can introduce me. Don’t worry, I’ll be very
gentle.’

As I opened the living room door we caught sight of my father hurrying into the kitchen. Candy followed behind.

‘Hello there,’ he said, red in the face. He’d been caught off guard listening at the door.

‘And how are you?’ asked Doctor Casey.

‘Smashing,’ my father replied. ‘Bloody smashing.’

Gloria was looking desolate. Her Bo Derek plait had completely fallen out and was hanging limp down the side of her face. She was thinking, staring vacantly, just thinking.

‘Gloria.’ I knelt by the side of the bed. ‘There’s a man here to see you. He’s a doctor.’

‘Oh no, Peter,’ she cried.

I left them alone in the room. I felt as if I had betrayed her.

‘You’re just out to embarrass me.’

I could hear my mother’s voice coming from the kitchen as I waited in the hall to speak to Doctor Casey.

‘I don’t know what that doctor will think of you,’ she said. ‘Listening from behind the door. You’re a grown man, not a big, soft kid.’

‘No one tells me what goes on in this house,’ I heard my father reply.

‘Ah,’ the doctor said, joining me at the foot of the stairs. ‘It’s always a pitiful sight. I’m afraid to have to tell you that I agree with what you’ve
already been told. I don’t think that your friend is going to be with us for very long.’

I sat down on the stairs.

‘Well,’ he continued. ‘She’s beginning to lose her body fluids and I wouldn’t be surprised if she slips into a coma.’

‘What will happen if she does?’

‘Oh, at first she’ll go into a very deep sleep and then you’ll let me know.’

‘Does she know what’s happening?’

‘I should think that she might have an idea. She’s confused but she’s putting up a fight. Although an operation would now be pointless, I tried to persuade her into going to a
hospital, but as we know, she’s having none of that.’

‘Is she in any pain?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Doctor Casey replied. ‘At the moment I don’t think that she is.’

The last thing that I wanted to do was to leave the house and even less appear in a play.

‘In a bit of a rush again tonight, are we?’ Old Jack peered at me through the open door of his office.

‘Yes, I’m sorry I’m late,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a bit of a problem.’

‘Like to tell Uncle Jack all about it?’

‘No, thanks,’ I replied. ‘It’s a bit personal.’

‘I’m always interested to know what’s happening,’ he said and gave a filthy grin.

‘Look,’ I said, ‘just piss off. Someone’s dying.’

‘Oooh, anyone I know?’

‘I shouldn’t think you do. She’s American. She’s a film star.’

‘Let’s not be silly,’ he said. ‘Film stars don’t die in Liverpool.’

The character I was playing had thirty-six stage entrances in the first act of the play, almost as many in the second, and it seemed as though I mistimed every one of them. I
was tired, my body was functioning on remote control and my concentration was elsewhere. At one point I spoke some of my lines before Geoffrey had finished speaking his, causing a tricky situation
on the stage and an outburst in the Green Room after the performance.

I couldn’t be bothered. I just left the theatre as hastily as I could.

‘Good,’ I thought, when I heard the stage door bang shut behind me. ‘I’ve got that over with until tomorrow and it’s not raining. Thank God it’s not raining.
I’ll walk some of the way home.’

Before I reached the corner of the street I heard the stage door bang shut again and someone came running after me.

‘Hold on, Pete. Wait for me.’

Gil was fastening up her coat and putting on a hat.

‘You’re in a rush,’ she said when she caught up with me. ‘You’re like a bloody locomotive. I tried to speak to you last night and tonight, but you disappeared
before I could open my mouth.’

‘Oh I’m sorry, everything’s been going wrong. I messed things up a bit.’

‘Everybody does sometime. It’s happened to us all. Don’t worry about it.’

‘Thanks,’ I said and we walked on in silence.

‘I heard that bust up between you and Geoffrey,’ she said after a while. ‘Don’t worry about it. He’s under a lot of strain. We all are.’

‘Has he got another job to go to after this?’

‘Maybe he hasn’t.’

‘I hope something turns up,’ I said.

Problems like that were something other people could identify with, something which was easily understood. Perhaps mine was too removed from reality to be taken seriously. ‘Film stars
don’t die in Liverpool,’ Old Jack had said. ‘That’s right,’ I thought. ‘It just doesn’t seem real.’

All the lights were on, all the doors were open; I arrived home in the middle of a panic. Candy, flapping and whimpering, was waiting for me in the hall and my father, dressed
in his pyjamas, was standing outside his bedroom door.

‘Quick! You’re wanted on the phone,’ he said. ‘Joe’s talking on it now. It’s just rung two minutes ago. Quick! It’s someone from America.’

‘Paulette tells me that her mother is not feeling so good. Is that right, Peter?’

‘Yes, Joy. Gloria is very sick.’

‘Is she eating properly, Peter?’

‘Now look, Joy. You must listen very carefully. Your sister can’t eat. She is desperately ill. She has cancer in her stomach. She’s dying. She’s about to go into a
coma.’

‘I had no idea, Peter. I’m absolutely stunned. I knew that she had been ill, that’s why she came out to the coast. I didn’t like the idea of her going to England to do
the play but she was determined. She said that she was better. You know how she is, Peter. You know Gloria.’

‘Joy, will you come to Liverpool? It’s important that someone comes over here immediately.’

‘Of course. I’ll try, Peter. Someone will definitely come. I’ll see what I can arrange and call you back in your morning. I’ll find out what can be done and I’ll
call you back. I’ll hang up now. I’m upset.’

‘Is she on her way then?’ my father enquired as I passed through the hall. He was standing as before with Candy by his side.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘She’s making the arrangements.’

‘That’s bloody marvellous. Did you hear that, Bella?’ He opened the door wider and shouted into the room. ‘Peter says she’s on her way.’

‘Thank Christ for that,’ was my mother’s reply.

He disappeared behind the door and the light in their bedroom was switched out.

Candy followed me into the kitchen.

‘Is she really on her way?’ Joe asked, handing me a mug of hot tea. ‘She didn’t seem too sure to me.’

‘She’s making the arrangements,’ I told him. ‘She’s going to see what she can do.’

‘Now that’s not good enough, Peter. It’s just not good enough. Somebody has definitely got to get over here because time’s running out and a lot of decisions will have to
be made. Gloria should be in a nursing home. We all know that, and yet we can’t take her anywhere unless she herself decides to go. You’ll have to persuade her, Peter. You’ll have
to go up to her room and talk her round. It will be the best thing for Gloria, and for you, and for me mam and everybody. Gloria is dying. The woman is dying. Do you understand? She’s about
to go into a coma.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I understand.’

Everything Joe said made sense but I just felt completely numb. I couldn’t be practical. I couldn’t change the situation. I just wanted it to go away. Gloria was dying; I
didn’t want her to, but there was nothing I could do.

‘She’s getting worse, Peter,’ Jessie said when she joined us in the kitchen. ‘Ever since the doctor was here she’s deteriorated. I think that she knows. She’s
gone very quiet. She’s hardly spoke. She just looks at you, waits and wants to be burped. I think she’s frightened.’

‘Have you been with her all evening?’ I asked.

‘A lot of the time,’ Jessie answered. ‘We all have. She can’t be left alone. She’s got to have someone with her every minute. Just in case, well, you know, just in
case.’

‘I’ll go up to her now,’ I said. ‘I’ll stay with her the night.’

‘No, you don’t have to do that,’ Joe said. ‘Me and Jessie are staying tonight to help out.’

‘Yes, we’ve worked it all out, Peter. We’re to spend turns apiece. If you go now, I’ll take over from you, Joe will take over from me and your mother will go in to her in
the morning. That way she won’t be left alone and we’ll all get a bit of sleep.’

Gloria looked impassive and remote. Her hair had been brushed out of its plaits, accidentally leaving a flick and a wave over one eye, a style I’d often seen her try to
create. She closed her eyes and turned her head towards the wall, then sighed. ‘The light,’ she said. ‘It’s bright.’

I put the lamp on the floor and covered the top of the shade so that the light was only dim.

‘I’ll go out and buy a pink bulb tomorrow,’ I thought. I knew that’s what she’d like.

I moved away to sit on the other bed.

It was strange and yet familiar to be lying together in a darkened room, silent, both thinking. When I got cold I pulled the blanket up around me and put my head against the pillows. It was an
uneasy comfort that I felt.

‘Do you want anything?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘The light. I want you to put it out.’

For a while we were in total blackness but when the curtains were lit up by the moon passing from behind a cloud, my eyes got used to the dark and I could see her clearly. Her eyes were open.
She was concentrating hard. She looked determined.

The shape of the window was reflected on the door but at an angle which made it look bigger. Nothing was in perspective. The branches of the tree that leant towards the house made shadows on the
walls and on the ceiling. When I traced each shadow carefully I saw pictures in the shapes. It must have been a picture that led me into a dream.

The singing woke me up; the sound of a girl’s voice, sweet and appealing, was coming from the room above.

‘Peter,’ Gloria’s voice suddenly punctuated the melody. ‘You kissed me when you had a cold.’

Startled by the sound of Gloria’s voice, my breath disappeared. I was left searching for words while the singing went on, louder, harder, the voice getting stronger, now joined by another.
I couldn’t speak.