Sidney Chambers and The Problem of Evil (The Grantchester Mysteries) (23 page)

‘No . . .’

‘But sometimes that’s better than third, fourth or fifth. Not everyone gets the gold medal when it comes to marriage, do they?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘And how is that wife of yours?’

‘She’s very well, Mandy, I must say.’

‘A gold medal then, eh?’

‘Quite. And now if you’ll see to Dickens
.
.
.’

‘Of course. I didn’t mean to be personal. She’s German, isn’t she? They’re always in the medals when the Olympics comes around; there’s that Armin Hary, Jutta Heine and that well-built girl Gisela Birkemeyer. I went to Rome to see them.’

‘I think there is a difference between a good sportswoman and a wife, Mandy.’

‘Canon Chambers, everyone who has met Hildegard can see that you are a very lucky man. But you took a risk in marrying when people still remember the war
.
.
.’

‘Perhaps love is always a risk.’

‘I bet you were supposed to marry a Harriet or a Belinda
.
.
.’

‘I think some people were surprised that I married at all. Shall we head off to the set?’ Sidney asked, determined not to develop the conversation further. ‘I am sure they’ll be wanting Dickens by now.’

Once they arrived, Nigel Binns explained the set-up. ‘It’s really all on the reaction shots but we need to get the basics right. I’ve heard that Hitchcock’s doing a drowning scene with Sean Connery later in the year so I have to get in first.’

‘That’s right, Nigel. Show him how it’s done, eh?’ Mandy encouraged.

‘There’s the drowning in
Vertigo
when Madeleine tries to commit suicide under the Golden Gate Bridge, and there are three in
Lifeboat
, but this is my chance for some showreel direction.’

He gave Sidney the storyboard for the sequence. The scene would start with an establishing shot of the weir, the sluice-gates and the keeper’s cottage and then cut to a close-up of the raging torrent.

‘We’re on the bridge. We pick up the gate-keeper on Laundress Green.’

‘Ah, yes, he’s played by Robert Vaizey, isn’t he? Veronica’s husband.’

‘Yeah, of course. To be honest, he wouldn’t be my first choice. We only cast him so that we could get his wife in the film. So
.
.
. he’s walking with his dog to inspect the sluice-gates. We have a quick close-up of the dog and then cut back to the water. The dog barks
.
.
.’

‘I’m not sure about Dickens doing that. He’s a reticent barker, aren’t you, old man?’ Sidney suddenly felt protective of his Labrador standing patiently by his side, his eyes never leaving his master’s face.

‘Don’t worry then. We can dub that on later. The sluice-keeper leans over. We pick him up on a second camera from a boat on the water, the gate gives way, we’re underneath him now, he loses his balance and topples past camera. We use a dummy for the actual fall (it will be in silhouette) and then pick up the real actor in a safer bit of water downriver.’

‘Nigel, you’re a wonder,’ said Mandy.

‘Special effects are on the bank with the bubble machine for the final drowning. We cut back to the dog, we see the dummy in the danger area on a long shot and then we pick up Andy on the bridge camera. He runs along the bank, and we reshoot that hand-held, so the audience feel they’re with him.’

‘It’s going to be so exciting. I can’t wait to see it, Nigel.’

‘He jumps into the river and then we see him grapple with Robert; the boat camera captures the men turning over twice in the water as they pass through frame, we cut back to a close-up of the broken sluice-gate, the bubble machine does its stuff and then the two dead bodies float off into the distance, with a final close-up, perhaps, of the distraught dog.’

‘Dickens isn’t usually a distraught kind of dog, I’m glad to say.’ Sidney gave his Labrador a consoling hug. ‘Think you can do that, old man?’

‘We’ll have the sound of the water up high, mix in the music, end on the water and there you go: next stop the Oscars.’

‘I only hope Dickens is up to the job.’

‘All he has to do is stand there,’ Mandy reassured.

‘Can he look frightened?’ Nigel asked.

‘He can look startled and he can pace up and down, especially if someone is in the water. He might even jump in.’

‘We don’t want that. The audience will worry more about the dog than the actors. He’ll take all the sympathy.’

‘We could tie him to the bridge?’ Mandy suggested.

‘No, that’s too tame. Let’s risk it. We’ll do his reaction shots with the dummy first. Then we can see where the water takes it.’

‘But won’t the dummy be wet?’

‘We won’t dress it for the dog shot. We’ll only put the replica costume on when the time comes.’

‘Do you only have one go at this?’ Sidney asked.

‘We’ll try to get the fall in one take. It keeps everyone on their toes. But it’s only a dummy. You’ve got to be more careful with the actors in the water.’

‘It sounds dangerous.’

‘It only looks that way. They’ve rehearsed in a pool. Both men are good swimmers. In fact they’re probably better swimmers than they are actors.’

‘I wouldn’t let them hear that.’ Mandy laughed. Nigel caught her wink and returned it.

Goodness me, thought Sidney, what is it about film directors and women? He knelt down to talk to Dickens. ‘It’ll be all right, old chap, you’ll be the star of the show.’

The first assistant asked for positions and final checks, and stationed special effects close to the dummy. ‘Clear the set,’ he called. ‘Sidney, you’re in shot.’

‘Sorry.’ Sidney gave Dickens a last reassuring look, and turned away.

‘Get behind the camera. Quickly. Roll sound.’

‘Sound rolling.’

‘Roll camera.’

‘Set.’

‘Mark it.’

‘137. Take One.’

‘Action.’

The dummy was thrown into the water and Dickens leant forward. He then began pacing up and down the bridge. The dummy turned in the weir below but appeared to have caught on something. Dickens was confused. The cameraman abandoned the tripod and moved in for a hand-held close-up. He knelt down so that he could be at the same level as the Labrador. The movement upset Dickens and made his performance as a distraught dog all the more convincing. Nigel Binns was just about to call ‘cut’ when the Labrador suddenly jumped into the river.

‘Help!’ Sidney called. ‘Get him out of there.’

‘Keep rolling,’ the director called. The cameraman stood up and adjusted focus on the scene below.

‘Cut,’ shouted Sidney.

‘KEEP ROLLING,’ Nigel Binns screamed. ‘Only I can say “Cut”. He’ll be all right. Let’s have five seconds.’

‘You said you didn’t want this,’ Sidney snapped.

‘Never mind that. It might work.’

‘But Dickens could die. Get him out!’ Sidney shouted.

‘It’s OK,’ said the boom-swinger. ‘He’s making for the bank!’

‘What’s happened to the dummy?’ Nigel asked.

‘Never mind the bloody dummy,’ Sidney answered. ‘Save my Labrador.’

Mandy had already run round with a towel. She hauled Dickens over on to the bank. The dummy had sunk but the dog was safe.

Confused, wet, cold and betrayed, but safe.

‘Don’t ever do that again,’ Sidney said to the director.

‘We had it covered.’

‘I’m not sure you did.’

Mandy dried Dickens and wrapped him in a rug. Sidney fed him biscuits and the first assistant arranged for a car home.

The crew now moved to the waters around Byron’s Pool for the moment of drowning. Robert Vaizey waited on the opposite side of the river with Ray, his dresser, while the crew made their final checks. The director showed him the exact patch of water that was best for the light, and his dresser belted up the actor’s raincoat and gave him a trilby.

The idea was that the cameras would roll, and Robert Vaizey would thrash and call out for up to a minute so that they could get a range of shots. Then Andy Balfour would dive in, they would do the double-turnover stunt they had practised before both men played dead and let the waters float them out of shot.

‘Are we ready?’ the first assistant called.

‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ Robert Vaizey replied. ‘To think I once played Hamlet. Now look at me. A glorified extra.’

‘There are no small parts, darling,’ his wife consoled him. ‘Only small actors.’

‘Clear the shot please, Miss Manners,’ the director asked.

‘I’m going, don’t panic!’ Veronica answered. ‘I do not want to ruin my husband’s greatest cinematic moment.’

‘You too, Ray.’

The dresser stepped back into the trees.

‘You’ve ruined enough of my life as it is,’ Robert Vaizey muttered as Veronica walked away.

Camera and sound began to roll, the clapper-loader marked the scene, and the actor jumped into the water and made for the lit area he had been shown. He turned twice to give the effect of being buffeted and sank convincingly, resurfacing without his hat, his hair already matted, and called out for help.

‘More desperate,’ Nigel Binns called. ‘Go in close,’ he said to the cameraman before issuing further instructions to the actor. ‘Let your mouth fill with water, spit it out, go under again, come up and look around then go underneath. Stand by, Andy. Sink down once more. And – cue, Andy. Action!’

Robert Vaizey spent longer each time he was underwater, the idea being that he should only surface three times and then he would be gone. Andy dived in and approached him from behind, anticipating a life-saving manoeuvre, and the two men turned over twice.

‘Good,’ the director called. ‘Keep it going. Pull him away, Andy. Go under yourself. Stay on the surface, Robert. Start to float. Don’t go under again. The camera’s on Andy. Now back to Robert. That’s good, Robert. Hold your breath. Don’t sink. What are you doing? I said don’t sink. Get back up. Where’s your damn trilby? Andy, your turn. Play dead. Hold your breath. Let the water take you out of shot. Hold it there, everyone. Good. Lovely, lovely. Close on the waters. Keep it close. Hold it there. Hold it there. Five more seconds. That’s it. Lovely, lovely and CUT.’

Andy Balfour swam to the side of the river, pulled himself out of the water and collapsed on the bank.

‘Is he all right?’ Veronica Manners asked, as she ran to be near him. ‘My God, my God, Andy? Andy?’

At the same time her husband’s body was sinking deeper into the waters. ‘I said: “Cut,”’ Nigel Binns shouted. The assistant director, special effects and the dresser ran to the rescue but it was too late. Robert Vaizey had sunk for the last time; his trilby sailed on downstream while his body found its way to the dark weeds on the river bed.

An ambulance was called and filming was suspended. It had been a tragic accident, although some of the crew began to mutter that it had been too dangerous a stunt and there should have been divers in the water. The production had cut corners on safety and this was the result. Andy Balfour also blamed himself. Perhaps he had pulled Robert Vaizey down too strongly, or he had caught on something underwater, and he should have realised that his fellow actor was in trouble.

Veronica Manners took to her hotel bed and refused to come out, calling on room service for food, drink and cigarettes. She was going to sleep for a week, she said. Sidney made his visit and tried to offer consolation but was sent away. He spoke to Inspector Keating who took a dim view of the production. ‘A very slipshod operation, if you ask me.’

‘It is such a tragic accident. And now the whole project may have to be abandoned.’

‘There’s too much money invested to do that. I’m told there are only a few days left to go. Let them have the funeral, finish the job and clear off.’

‘Has the coroner seen the body?’

‘The corpse is with Jarvis now. I think it’s a pretty clear-cut case of accidental drowning. There were plenty of witnesses.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard
.
.
.’

‘And you weren’t one of them.’

‘No.’

‘Then why have you got that look on your face, Sidney?’

‘What look?’

‘The one I don’t like.’

‘It’s nothing, really.’

‘Out with it, man.’

Sidney swallowed. ‘You know that Andy Balfour was having an affair with the victim’s wife?’

‘You don’t think he drowned him deliberately?’

‘No, I’m not saying that, quite yet.’

‘Then what are you saying?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s a bit convenient, isn’t it? Perhaps they were trying to drown each other.’

‘I’m not buying that, Sidney. It was acting, pure and simple, and then an accident. Both Balfour and Miss Manners are distraught. Prostrate with grief, I’m told. I know they’re both actors but if you’re saying they’re putting that on they’re the best I’ve ever seen.’