LITMIR.BIZ

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hoping that won’t be necessary. On most films you can watch dailies at the end of the day they were shot – hence the name – but we have to courier the film stock back to LA for processing. We pack up the cans every night and send them off then it’s a week before the so-called “dailies” get back to us, by which time the sets have been taken down. So if something hasn’t worked out, it’s a complete pain in the proverbial.’ He smiled as he spoke, and Diana wondered if anything on set ever rattled his composure. She’d only ever seen him in good humour but he obviously had a dark side if Helen was right about him shooting his wife’s lover.

      They took their seats, the lights were switched off and the projector cast a big white circle onto the screen, then diminishing numbers flashed up … 3, 2, 1. She saw the clapperboard slowly closing and a big cross appeared, before an image of Elizabeth Taylor and Rex Harrison. The sound had been synched on but there was no background music or sound effects so their voices seemed curiously flat. They watched one short sequence in which Cleopatra argued with Caesar, then the clapperboard came up again and they were in an entirely different and non-sequential scene.

      Diana found it hard to follow the short snatches of action but she was impressed by Rex Harrison’s acting. He was easily plausible as Caesar, a man struggling to hold together the vast Roman empire but facing insurmountable problems due to the geographical distances and implacable enemies. Elizabeth Taylor, on the other hand, was simply playing Elizabeth Taylor. With her curious Anglo-American accent and modern looks, she bore no resemblance to the first century BC queen Diana had studied. Her extraordinary beauty and sexually charged acting were pure Hollywood.

      The film was going to be a love story, not a historical documentary. Would cinemagoers have been interested in watching the true Cleopatra story of the woman who married her brother, ordered the deaths of her rivals, defeated foes in battle and bribed the Egyptian people to win their loyalty? To Diana’s way of thinking, the fact that, far from being beautiful, she had been hook-nosed, strong-jawed and stick-thin yet extremely quick-witted, made for a more entertaining story. But as it was, she could see that this was going to be a sentimental movie designed to showcase its star. There was nothing she could do to change that.

      When the projector was switched off and the lights came on, they sat discussing what they’d seen, and Joe Mankiewicz suggested a couple of fill-in shots. The cameraman agreed and someone wrote it down. No one asked Diana’s opinion.

      ‘Great work, everybody,’ Walter beamed, and the group dispersed. Sheltering under a studio umbrella, Diana hurried back to the production office, wondering whether there was any point in her attending the dailies. They would never reshoot anything based on her opinion; that much was clear.

      ‘I’ve just been booking a trip for you,’ Hilary told her as she walked in and threw her wet brolly into a rack. ‘Joe wants you to check the sets they’re building in Ischia. I thought I’d ask Ernesto to go with you because he knows the people there. You OK to leave tomorrow?’

      ‘Yes, that would be fine.’ She sat down at her desk, racking her brains as she tried to remember where Ischia might be. ‘How long will I be away?’

      ‘Depends what you find, but no more than a week I’d say. Just long enough to tell the set builders what they’re doing wrong.’

      Diana glanced over towards Hilary’s desk. It would feel odd to leave Rome without letting Trevor know where she was going. ‘Did the courier arrive from London?’

      Hilary pursed her lips sympathetically. ‘Nothing for you. Hasn’t he replied yet?’

      Diana shook her head.

      ‘Call him. Go on, I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.’ She got up and gave Diana a quick pat on the shoulder. ‘Stick to your guns but tell him you miss him. And good luck!’

      Diana looked at the clock. Trevor was probably sitting at his desk over lunch. She placed the call through the operator and, almost as soon as it rang, she heard her husband’s voice on the end of the line. His secretary must have gone out.

      ‘Hello, it’s me. How are you?’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘I wrote to you. Did you get the letter?’

      ‘Yes, I got it.’

      ‘Why haven’t you replied?’ Diana asked.

      ‘I don’t know what you want me to say. Of course I miss you, but this wasn’t my decision.’ His tone chilled her. Suddenly she felt cross with him for being so unsupportive but she knew that nothing would be resolved if she lost her temper.

      ‘I’m going to Ischia tomorrow to check the outdoor sets. They’re building boats for the sea battle of Actium.’

      ‘No doubt that will be educational,’ he commented drily, then added ‘I’m sorry, but it’s hard for me to get excited about it from back here in rainy London.’

      There was a long pause, then they both began to speak at once – him to say he had a tutorial to prepare and her pleading ‘Don’t shut me out, Trevor. Please come over to Rome, or at least write to me.’

      ‘Diana, it’s only a few weeks till Christmas. We can talk then. I don’t see any point in coming out beforehand to sit on my thumbs while you prance around with the stars.’

      He was immovable. She had no choice but to agree that they would talk on her return. When she came off the phone, she sat for several minutes with her head in her hands. She knew him well enough to sense that, behind the curt tone, he was depressed and lonely. It had been selfish of her to leave him. She couldn’t blame him for his attitude but wished that he would at least support her now she was there. She was having the time of her life, and didn’t for one moment regret the decision she’d made.

       Chapter Fifteen

      Scott’s editor was pleased with the ostrich feather story but next time, he said, he wanted a picture of Elizabeth Taylor in the dress, and preferably while it was on fire.

      ‘Rome is crawling with photographers. Surely that’s not too hard to organise?’

      Scott went to visit Jacopo Jacopozzi, the amiable chief of Associated Press in Rome. The walls of his office were covered in pictures of popes and presidents, movie stars and politicians.

      ‘You want it, we got it,’ Jacopozzi told him. ‘I’ve got people covering Elizabeth Taylor from the moment she steps onto her verandah for breakfast until her car takes her home from a restaurant at night. I can get shots from inside the film set, or whichever nightclub she happens to be in. Just say the word.’

      ‘Did you get the ostrich feather dress?’ Scott asked.

      ‘Sure,’ he shrugged. He flicked through some files on the desk in front of him and pulled out one that showed Elizabeth Taylor leaving the Grand Hotel in a white dress, with Eddie Fisher by her side. ‘Tazio Secchiaroli himself got this one. You’ve heard of him? He’s our best man. He’s getting more famous than the stars themselves, but he’s not cheap.’

      ‘How much to use that photo, for example?’

      They discussed the rights needed, the print run, the size at which it would be used, and when Jacopozzi was finally pinned down to a price, Scott whistled in astonishment.

      ‘That much? I’ve got a budget less than a tenth of that.’ He named his figure.

      ‘It can’t be done, my friend. My photographers are bleeding me dry and I have a family to feed.’ The expensive clothes and swanky office belied his penury.

      ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Scott tried to negotiate an affordable price but it was obvious they weren’t going to agree. Jacopozzi had plenty of business and no need to compromise, so they shook hands and Scott

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