did as I was told, then sat there dumbly, wondering whether my next comment should be about European tax harmonisation or her film.
‘I loved the movie, Ms Finch,’ I told her, an exaggeration that teetered close to being a lie, ‘and,’ steering closer to the truth, ‘you were sensational.’
‘Oh, do you really think so?’ she said, playing down her acting talents which were almost on a par with her beauty. ‘Thank you so much. And please, call me Olivia.’
The waiter returned with another bottle of champagne and refilled the glasses of everyone at the table. ‘So, tell me,’ Olivia continued after taking a small, delicate sip from her glass, ‘what did you really think of the movie? It kinda sucks, doesn’t it? Go on, you can be honest with me, English.’
‘No, I wouldn’t say that,’ I replied as evenly as I could. ‘OK, I’ll admit, it’s not the best film I’ve ever seen but it’s far from the worst.’
‘So what is the best film you’ve ever seen? You must have seen hundreds in your time.’
‘Oh, you know,’ I said, ‘I like a lot of the old classics. Stuff from before you were born. From before I was born, even.’
‘Like what?’ she persisted. ‘Go on, try me. I might not be quite as dumb as I look.’
‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ I replied, a little too quickly. ‘I’m just trying to think of something that you might have seen as well. They made some great films in the nineties, you know.’
Olivia shifted to a more upright, more rigid, position. ‘Just answer the goddamn question, English – what is your favourite movie?’ She spelled the words out slowly as if talking to a child. Or an idiot.
‘OK, then, if you must know, it’s Sullivan’s Travels. It’s an old—’
‘Preston Sturges movie!’ Olivia almost screamed, ‘Joel McCrea and Veronica Lake. Oh God, I love that film! It didn’t do as well at the box office as Paramount hoped but that might possibly have been because they released it right about the time of Pearl Harbor! I guess that’s what’s known in the business as bad timing! And I absolutely adore Veronica Lake. When I was a kid, I grew my hair real long and tried to get it to flick like hers, you know? Sturges made some great movies, didn’t he? The Great McGinty, The Lady Eve. But you hardly ever hear about him these days, do you? These kids today coming out of UCLA and NYU think cinema began with Quentin Tarantino. They don’t know anything about Sturges or Hawks or Frank Capra. And that’s just the Americans. Try talking to them about Fellini or Pasolini and they’ll think you’re trying to sell them a foreign car.’
‘Better not mention Ford, then,’ I said with a smile. Olivia looked at me blankly before she got the joke and laughed with far more gusto than my witticism deserved.
‘Yeah, you’re right there, Joe. John Ford would definitely be off their radar.’ Olivia paused for a moment and took another sip of her drink. A broad grin spread slowly across her face as if she’d just had a really naughty notion. ‘Do you know who my real all-time favourite actress is? The one I would have loved to have been? Go on, have a guess, Joe. You’ll never guess.’
I had no idea. A few minutes earlier I’d have gone for a banker like Marilyn Monroe or perhaps Elizabeth Taylor, but Olivia’s knowledge and enthusiasm had floored me. ‘Tell me. Who?’
‘Hedy Lamarr!’ Olivia announced, then looked at me, her eyes alive with anticipation, eager to gauge my reaction as if she had just revealed the ultimate secret to the meaning of life. ‘She had it all. She was beautiful. She was a really talented actress and she was so clever. She actually invented the gizmo that makes wi-fi work – did you know that? Isn’t that amazing? When this is all over, I would love to be remembered for something more than having a great body and being able to read out lines that someone else has written for me.’
‘How do you know all this?’ I asked, without fully thinking through the implications of my question.
‘What?’ Olivia blazed back. Her moods, I was discovering, could change like traffic lights at a busy junction. ‘You think I can’t appreciate great movies because they’re in black and white? I was born poor English, not stupid! But I’m one of the download generation. When I was a kid, my dad got hold of a knocked-off laptop and I used to carry it around with me wherever I went, like it was my favourite doll. Any chance I got to hook up to the Internet, I’d see what movies I could find. There wasn’t much point watching Die Hard or Mission Impossible or big-budget wham-bam shit like that because the connections were so bad you couldn’t see what the hell was going on. So I’d watch all the old classics. At least then I could hear what the actors were saying even if I couldn’t see what they were doing. I could probably give you the whole of The Apartment or All About Eve by heart.’
Before she had a chance to deliver on this promise, we were distracted by a commotion and the staggering figure of Jack Reynolds hoving back into view, pursued by one of the doormen who was controlling access to the VIP enclosure.
‘Come on, Olly, we’re going,’ he slurred, grabbing Olivia by the arm and attempting to pull her from her seat.
‘Get your hands off of me, you ape!’ Olivia snapped back, digging her fingers into her co-star’s hand.
‘Hey, hey! Come on, guys,’ said Buddy rising quickly from his seat at the other end of the table and hurrying to get the situation under control. ‘It is kind of late, Olivia. Perhaps you should be going.’
‘I’ll go when I’m ready,’ she replied, staring directly at me for support. ‘And, as it happens, I’m ready now. It’s been lovely talking with you, English. We must do this again some time.’ She rose and air-kissed everyone at the table, her scent lingering in the space she vacated like a jet’s vapour trail, then wafted off into the bright party lights, followed closely by Jack Reynolds. I’d met a few stars in my time but never before been so close for so long to such insouciant, commanding elegance. I felt completely intoxicated by the experience. That and the four or five glasses of champagne I’d already consumed.
My head was starting to spin and I knew I’d overdone it but, what the hell! The drink was free, I was celebrating a successful trip and I’d had to babysit Bennett all week. And I was suddenly feeling very alone in the busiest city on the planet. It was almost one o’clock which made it six back home in London. Natasha would, without knowing it, be enjoying her last few moments of sleep. Soon she would receive our standard early-morning call – assaulted by a hyperactive three–year-old who greeted the dawn of each new day as if it had to be the best one ever. I missed them – even the rude awakenings – and was glad I’d be seeing them again soon. It was time to go back to the hotel.
I should have looked for Bennett to see whether he was ready to leave too. It would have saved a lot of trouble if we’d stuck together – would have saved his life, now I come to think about it. Frankly, though, I reasoned at the time, he was a grown man and could find his own way back to the hotel. I tottered to the exit, slightly unsteady on my feet but not so drunk that I couldn’t hail myself a cab.
Exactly drunk enough, it turned out, to make the biggest mistake of my life.
I’ve always liked to think that, essentially, I’m a nice bloke. In fact, until that night, I would have settled for that on my gravestone: HERE LIES JOSEPH EDWARD GEORGE WEST. ESSENTIALLY A NICE BLOKE. So what happened next – and most of what’s happened since – has to be seen as being out of character.
As I reached the exit, my nostrils picked up a familiar perfume. I looked around and saw Olivia locked in animated conversation with Jack Reynolds. They didn’t notice me and I was almost past them when I heard Olivia yelp and saw that Reynolds had grabbed hold of one of her arms. It wasn’t clear whether he was trying to stop her from hitting him or from getting away. But there was no doubt she was not enjoying the experience and was struggling to free herself from his grasp.
I still don’t know what possessed me. Instead