My Week with Marilyn (14 page)

‘I saw Vivien Leigh in
Gone with the Wind
,' said Marilyn. ‘She was great.'

‘She was great, Marilyn, because she wasn't impersonating Scarlett O'Hara in the film, she
was
Scarlett O'Hara. She knew exactly how Scarlett O'Hara would have felt. She got right inside the part. Olivier can't imagine that. He can put on a character and take it off like a suit of clothes, without any effort at all. That works fine for the stage, but you can't get away with it on film. The movie camera shows up everything. A great movie actor or actress has to
be
the part, right down into their mind. And that is what you can do, Marilyn. I don't know how, but you can do it. You are going to steal this picture away from Olivier, and he knows it. Mind you, he is a great man, and in one way I don't think he minds. I really admire him for that. He can see what you've got – I don't care what Paula says – and he's prepared to hand you the film on a plate if that will make it a success. He wouldn't do that unless he knew, deep down, that you were an actress. It's the same with Marlon Brando. Olivier admires him, but he also fears him. The problem is that neither of you acts the way he acts, and that is very hard for him to understand. And he can probably see that you are the future, which must frighten him a bit.'

‘Oh, Colin. What should I do?'

‘Get to the studio as early as you can, dear Marilyn. No one
expects you to behave like a bit-part player, but the film can only be finished if everyone turns up. There are some lovely music sequences coming along, and you enjoy those. And there are some nice scenes where Elsie Marina takes control of the love affair, and those will suit you very well. In fact, I want you to take control of the film. Marilyn Monroe Productions and Laurence Olivier Productions – you're equal partners, aren't you? It's time you put your foot down. Forget about poor little Milton; he's just a stooge. Forget about Paula; she's only there to hold your hand, and she's scared stiff of you anyway. Even forget about Mr Miller. He can't take the heat. You'll have plenty of time to make him a good Jewish wife when you're back in the Bronx. You've got to march into that studio and take control. Lay it on the line: “This is the way I want it, and this is the way it is going to be done.” '

‘Gee, Colin, do you think I could? But I'm too scared. I'm scared that when I get in front of that camera I won't feel right – that I won't know what to do. I wish I had a few of those tricks of Sir Laurence's up my sleeve.'

‘God forbid, Marilyn. Do you want to be a ham like Bette Davis? Of course not! You always know exactly what to do when you're in front of the camera. You are a natural. An incredible natural talent. Don't be scared. Enjoy it. Revel in it.'

‘There you go again – you make it sound fun. Why do I get such bad nerves?'

‘Listen, Marilyn. When I left school I went into the air force and became a pilot. I was flying single-seater jet planes every day. When I was in the plane, I was sitting so far forward that I couldn't even see the wings. And sometimes I would look out into the vast blue sky and think, “Help! What's keeping me up? Nothing but thin air. Any minute now I'm going to fall twenty thousand feet into the sea.” Of course I knew all about aerodynamics and that stuff, but for a moment I would panic and my heart would stop. But then I would think, “It's not for me to worry about that. All I have to do is fly the damn plane. And that I can do, or I wouldn't be up here on my
own in the first place.” Then I would be back in control again; and as you can see, the plane never fell.'

Marilyn clapped her hands. ‘You're right. I'm going to fly! I can fly! But first I've got to be free. Free of all those pills and doctors. Free of everyone.'

‘And free of me.'

‘Oh, Colin, no. Stay a little while. Lie down beside me till I fall asleep. Please. I feel I can't be alone tonight. Otherwise I'll have to take the pills. And anyway, I want you to tell me all that stuff again  – about being natural, I mean. That's what I really want to be.'

‘All right, Marilyn. I'll stay a little while, but for now, let's get some sleep.'

I turned the light off and lay down in that soft quilt again and closed my eyes.

I heard Marilyn giggle in the dark.

‘Natural. Do you think you and I could ever be natural together, one day?'

‘Perhaps, Marilyn. When the film is over, perhaps. It would be nice.'

‘Mmm,' said Marilyn. She reached out, took my hand and held it. ‘Natural is nice . . .'

Less than an hour later, she was awake again.

‘Colin! Colin!' she cried.

I sat bolt upright in the darkness and fumbled desperately for the light. I had fallen asleep on top of the bed and, thank goodness, fully dressed. I had not even taken off my shoes.

‘It hurts. It hurts.'

Marilyn lay on her back, clutching her stomach. She was as pale as a ghost.

‘What's the matter?' I reached out and put my hand against her cheek. She didn't seem to have a fever. ‘What's the matter?'

‘It's cramp. I've got cramps. It's terrible. Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!'

‘What is it, Marilyn?'

‘The baby! I'm going to lose the baby.'

‘The baby? What baby? Are you having a baby?' I simply could not comprehend what was going on.

For the first time since I had known her, Marilyn began to weep. I had never seen so much as the sign of a tear in the studio, even when Olivier was at his worst. I suppose I thought of her as someone whose life had been such a struggle, who had known so much pain as a child, that she would never allow herself to cry again.

‘Poor Marilyn,' I said, as gently as I could. ‘Tell me about the baby.'

‘It was Arthur's,' Marilyn said, between sobs. ‘It was for him. He didn't know. It was going to be a surprise. Then he would see that I could be a real wife, and a real mother.'

A mother – I could hardly believe it.

‘How long have you been pregnant?'

‘Just a few weeks, I guess. At least, my period is a couple of weeks late. And I didn't dare mention it to anyone, in case it wasn't true. Ow!' Another spasm gripped Marilyn's tummy. She was clearly in terrible pain.

‘I'm going to lose the baby. Maybe it's a punishment because I've been having such a good time.'

‘Nonsense, Marilyn. We didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all. I'd better tell Roger to call a doctor right away. And he'd better tell Milton too – only you are not to take any pills. Shall I get Paula and Hedda too?'

‘Don't tell them about the baby, Colin. I always have cramps when my period is due. They're used to that. This seems just much worse, that's all.'

‘OK. But you'd better tell the doctor about it when he comes. I'll be right back.'

‘Please come back soon, Colin. Please don't leave me alone.'

I rushed out of the room and down the corridor to Roger's bedroom, and turned on the light.

‘Roger! Wake up at once. It's Miss Monroe. She's ill.'

‘What's the trouble?' Roger was out of bed in a flash, and pulling on his trousers and shirt.

‘You'd better call a doctor at once. She's not seriously ill, but she's in a lot of pain. The telephone operator will know the name of a local doctor who's on call at night. Try to find someone who'll come right now. Then, and only then, can you wake Paula and Hedda and send them along. And call Milton too, I suppose. In the meantime I'll be holding Marilyn's hand.'

Roger shot off downstairs to the telephone and I went back to the bedroom. Marilyn was nowhere to be seen, but there was a light under the bathroom door.

‘Are you OK, Marilyn?' I called. ‘Roger is talking to a doctor right now. He'll be here very soon.'

Marilyn let out a cry. ‘Ooh! I'm bleeding so much.'

‘Listen carefully, Marilyn, this is important. Don't lock the bathroom door. If it's already locked, as soon as you can, reach out and unlock it. Even if you have to crawl on your hands and knees. I promise I won't come in. I won't let anyone in. But you might faint, and the doctor has to be able to get in as soon as he comes.

‘Oh, Colin!'

I heard a shuffling noise and some groans, and then a click as the bolt was pulled back.

‘Good girl.'

Roger appeared at the bedroom door.

‘The doctor's on his way. I'm going to call Paula and then Milton. Let me know if there's anything I can do.'

‘Hang in there, Marilyn,' I called out. ‘The doctor's on his way. Try to take it easy if you can.'

‘It's not the pain, it's the baby. I should have stayed in bed for a few weeks.'

‘Marilyn, if it's not to be, this time round, it's not to be. You and Arthur are just beginning. You'll have plenty of time after the film is finished. Don't upset yourself too much. What will be, will be.'

At that moment Paula hurled herself into the room, and I had to jump in front of the bathroom door to stop her from bursting in.

‘Marilyn! Marilyn! My baby! What has Colin done to you?'

‘Colin's done nothing, Paula,' said Marilyn through the door. ‘Don't be silly. I'm just having a very bad period, that's all.'

Paula glared at me.

‘We've done nothing wrong at all,' I said firmly. ‘Trust me, Paula. No one is to blame. Poor Marilyn isn't ill. It's her monthly cramps, that's all. The doctor is coming just in case.'

Paula slumped down beside me on the carpet, ever the tragedienne.

‘Marilyn, Marilyn. What can I do? Why isn't Arthur here? He should be by your side. Colin is a nice boy, but he isn't your husband. Oh dear, oh dear, you'll have to cancel the film now.' She sounded exactly like a typical Jewish mum.

Roger was the next person to appear at the bedroom door. ‘I've telephoned Milton,' he said. ‘He's on his way too. Soon we'll have the whole bloody circus here. I'll go down and wait for the doctor.'

It was not long before we heard a car drive up outside.

‘The doctor's here,' I called through the door.

But it wasn't. It was Milton.

‘What in God's name is going on, Colin? What have you two been up to? Where's Marilyn? Why isn't the doctor here yet? You should have called him before you called me.'

‘Marilyn's in the bathroom, and she does not want anyone to go in. Repeat,
not
,' I said severely, looking at Paula, who had stood up. ‘No one is to go near her until the doctor arrives. I promised Marilyn I'd personally bar the door.'

There were occasional groans coming from the other side, and Milton and Paula were both desperate to investigate further, but mercifully, at that moment another car could be heard, and soon Roger appeared with an amiable-looking elderly man.

‘Now then, where is the patient? What on earth are you all doing here?'

‘The patient is Miss Monroe you see, and . . .' gabbled Milton and Paula at once.

‘The patient is in the bathroom here,' I said loudly. ‘And all of us are now going downstairs.' I started shepherding them out like a
lot of bleating sheep. ‘My name is Colin Clark, doctor,' I said over my shoulder. ‘The bathroom door is unlocked. We will leave Miss Monroe to you.'

And we left.

‘This is Dr Connell,' I heard him say as I closed the door. ‘May I come in?'

Downstairs in the hall Milton and Paula looked at each other, and me, with equal hostility.

‘This is absolutely nothing to do with me,' I said. ‘I was simply waiting for Marilyn to fall asleep before I went home. She'd been complaining of stomach cramps, and didn't want to be left alone. Then she said she was feeling worse, so I told Roger to call a doctor.'

There didn't seem anything else to say, so no one spoke. Soon, to my relief, we were joined by a sleepy Hedda Rosten. Hedda sometimes to get tipsy in the evenings, but she is a nice, motherly lady, and is not part of the film world. If anyone could help to calm down Marilyn, it would be Hedda.

There was an uncomfortable fifteen minutes of foot-shuffling and hand-wringing before the doctor came downstairs.

‘Is Miss Monroe's husband here? No? Well, which of you is in charge?'

We all stepped forward.

The doctor raised his eyebrows. It was very late at night.

‘Well, Miss Monroe is in no danger. I've given her an injection and the bleeding has stopped, and she is going to sleep. I suggest that you ladies' – he frowned at Milton and me – ‘take it in turns to stay with her. She should stay in bed tomorrow for the whole day, but after that she should be fine. I'll come back to see her at lunchtime.'

There was a huge sigh of relief from us all. Paula and Hedda went upstairs immediately to inspect their charge and decide who slept where. I suspect Paula wanted to ensure that she was the first person Marilyn saw when she awoke.

‘Let me walk you out to your car, doctor,' I said.

‘Me too,' said Milton, anxious not to leave me alone with anyone, ever again.

‘You weren't surprised to find that your patient was Miss Marilyn Monroe, doctor?' I asked as we got out into the fresh night air.

‘Oh, no, Mr Clark. My wife is the head of the Sadler's Wells Ballet, so I'm used to leading ladies.'

‘The head of the Sadler's Wells Ballet? I must know her then. My father is on the board of the Opera House. What's your wife's name?'

‘Oh, no,' Milton groaned. ‘Here we go again. Isn't there anyone you don't know, Colin?'

‘She is called Ninette de Valois,' said the doctor.