Mr P clearly does not.
‘Never trust the dirty fingernail brigade, Colin,’ he said after Roger had left. ‘They pretend to be only doing it for their art, but they are always trying to wangle more money.’
I took a quick squint at my fingernails – not that clean. I need the job, not the money, but I suppose that I must admit I am prepared to wangle.
My worry is that Roger is rather too ‘stagey’. The more SLO surrounds himself with stage people, the more ‘stagey’ the film will be. Perhaps that’s the intention – to make the film a sort of period piece – rich, theatrical and far from MM’s normal image.
Jolly hard to pull off though. SLO may like it and MM may like it, but will filmgoers pay to see it?
TUESDAY, 26 JUNE
Another ‘old friend’ today.
Tony Bushell24 roared in at 12.30 to meet SLO and Rattigan for lunch. Tony looks like a bluff military man – bald, red faced and jovial. In fact he was in the Guards during the war and almost everyone forgets he is an actor.
David Niven told Mama that when Tony applied to join some grand regiment, the Adjutant asked him what he did for a living.
‘Nothing at the moment,’ said Tony, who, like all actors, was out of work.
‘Thank goodness,’ said the Adjutant, assuming Tony was idle rich, ‘I thought you might be an actor. The last actor chappie we had ran off with the Colonel’s wife.’
So Tony got in, and sure enough, ran off with the wife of someone in the regiment.
Very adorable she is too. Anne Bushell is a great friend of Vivien’s, as Tony is of SLO’s. In fact Anne talks exactly like Vivien (though she is not an actress at all – she is an heiress), and when she answers the phone at Notley one can’t tell the difference. She is not as beautiful as Vivien (no one is) but she is still very attractive – as well as a good deal easier to be with.
Tony boomed a great welcome to me. He is going to be the Associate Director. This means that while SLO is acting in front of the camera, Tony will take charge behind it, and ‘direct’ the film.
I don’t think Tony could direct traffic in Cheltenham. Despite his imposing appearance he is really a pussy cat. But SLO needs a chum to guard his rear, as it were, and it is a great joy to have Tony around. He has a heart the size of a house which he loves to hide behind a glare. I’ve met Rattigan too, but he didn’t remember me. He’s queer of course, although I’ve nothing against that. He’s charming to everyone but with a cautious look in his eye. I can’t pretend I think he’s much cop as a writer. Very 1920s period stuff. Of course, there’s always an edge but if there wasn’t even that his plays would just be blancmange.
SLO and Vivien probably know this but they love to have queer courtiers, and Rattigan’s plays are quite good vehicles for actors.
They all went off to the Ivy in high good spirits. Like a lot of overgrown schoolboys, I thought.
‘Hmph’ said Mr P as we settled down to the cheese rolls and Guinnesses – which I buy and we now consume together in his office.
WEDNESDAY, 27 JUNE
Mr P has finally admitted that MM may need a bodyguard. The newspapers are making such a fuss of her and the upcoming visit. You would think that her fans are massing at strategic points to trample her to death in the rush for her autograph. ‘Phooey’ we say, but we can’t take risks, and anyway the cost will come out of MMP’s budget.
Mr P has no idea how to arrange a bodyguard so I rang Scotland Yard. When I finally got through to someone senior enough, they were incredulous and angry.
‘Miss Marilyn Monroe will be adequately protected by the police while in this country like every other American visitor,’ said some Commissioner sniffily. I patiently explained that if there was a retired Inspector around who would like to spend four months in Miss Monroe’s company for a high salary I would like his name.
Once again the magical MM image made a strong man wilt. In fact I think the Commissioner sounded as if he might resign there and then to take the job. (Imagine what he could tell the wife – line of duty and all that.) He would have someone call me in the afternoon. And he did call – a real Inspector Plod. He was cautious and realistic – quiet sense of humour, not overawed. Sounds just what Mr P and I need. I invited him to come here to meet us in a week’s time.
Tomorrow I’m going to Heathrow to see those police. (I may mention Plod’s name.) It’s to be a conference. I am afraid they are expecting someone older than me but it can’t be helped. I’ll just have to play the officer to the hilt. The RAF wasn’t exactly the Life Guards, but I do know how. Most of those senior cops are just sergeant-majors at heart. As soon as they realise that I am serious, they’ll settle down.
THURSDAY, 28 JUNE
The police at the airport were very suspicious. They assumed that I had come out there to arrange some sort of publicity stunt. Luckily I have experience of this sort of planning – defending Dalcross airport against infiltration25 – and I managed to get their interest. Which corridor, which car park, which tunnel etc.
SLO really does want a very low-key reception for MM. He and Vivien will come to meet her. The press can have a short question and answer session plus pictures in a room especially set up between Immigration and the cars. MM and AM have to go through Immigration and Customs, no matter what, but the police have promised to whisk them through alone.
So together we planned the whole thing like a military manoeuvre. I ended by telling them not to alter our plan in any way unless advised by me. (Milton Greene and Irving Stein and some publicity types are coming in ahead of MM and Mr P says that they are certain to try to change everything.)
In the end the cops became great chums. They all want to be the one who stands next to MM and protects her from the mob. She has that effect on all men, I guess. They certainly do not want a riot in their airport. Memories of Johnny Ray are all too recent. I was very Old Etonian Guards officer visiting the Sergeants’ Mess, even though they are in black tunics covered in silver braid. But we understood one another.
David Orton came in again this afternoon. He gets nicer and nicer, and receives my plaintive enquiries about a job with twinkles and winks.
‘Wait until next week. It’s the middle of summer, you know.’
What can that mean? I know it is summer. It is extremely hot. But I trust him to help. I’m very lucky that he has become a friend.
FRIDAY, 29 JUNE
Garrett Moore is being very difficult about Parkside House again. What about the phone bill? What about the mess and the possible damage? I keep telling him that it will only be MM, AM and a Scotland Yard detective – although in reality I’m none too sure about this. There are always hangers-on, but they are meant to be at Tibbs Farm.
The Moores’ servants will stay on at the house for MM, paid by Garrett who will be recompensed by MMP. This way, Garrett hopes not to lose them. Garrett is like a child, whining about someone playing with his toys.26 Joan says nothing – just smiles and flutters those amazing eyelashes. She is the most seductive woman since Cleopatra. She and Vivien are in the same mould only she is passive where Vivien is active. Joan is older of course, but when she plays the piano for a concert, most of the men in the audience are close to fainting. I suppose Joan and Vivien know each other – it’s not the sort of question to ask either of them – probably through Papa: lucky old man. I would be putty in Joan’s hands, but I have to be tough with Garrett. I’m sure he can’t resist £120 per week and I’m sure he can’t resist the slightest chance to get his hand up MM’s skirt. I know he is meant to be so brilliantly clever, but he is also extremely vain.
Mr P is pleased by the airport arrangements and by the bodyguard,