CARL CURTIS, Tommy's new school, was at the eastern edge of Beverly Hills, next door to a little park and zoo where you could go for pony rides and pet other equally miserable animals that lived there. The school wasn't nearly as big or as splendid as Ashlawn. It was just half an acre with seven classrooms, an asphalt yard and a swimming pool.
To Tommy, it didn't really feel like a school at all. There wasn't even a proper uniform, just blue sweatshirts with the school's name on the front. What made it so different was that there were girls as well as boys and that everyone was friendly, even the staff.
All except two of the teachers were women. The headmaster, Mr. Curtis, had black hair and glasses and a very white face and stood every morning at the gate to say hello to all the children as they arrived. Then there was Mr. Badham, who everybody called Baddy, who was always cracking jokes and having fun, like trying to cadge your sandwiches at lunchtime. Baddy organized all the sport and there was a lot of it. This, at first, had made Tommy nervous because at Ashlawn sport had simply been an excuse for the bullies to beat you up without getting into trouble. But, thanks to Baddy, everybody at Carl Curtis actually enjoyed it and there didn't seem to be any bullies anyway.
There was PE and trampolining and basketball and, twice a week, everybody got to go swimming. The boys even did boxing which—probably because he'd spent so much time defending himself at Ashlawn—Tommy found he was rather good at. In his first bout he actually gave a boy called Wally Freeman a bloody nose. Wally didn't seem to mind too much and afterward nicknamed him Floyd, after Floyd Patterson, the heavyweight champion of the world.
The day always began with Flag Salute. They all gathered in the yard and put their hands on their hearts and recited the Pledge of Allegiance. At first Tommy, being British, didn't know whether he ought to do this. But he'd always loved the Stars and Stripes and didn't like being the odd one out and was soon joining in as if he were a real American. Which was what he'd always wanted to be. It just seemed more modern—cooler, as Wally would say—than being English. You only had to look at the new president they'd just elected. He was young and always smiling and had little kids and a beautiful wife, while the British prime minister, funny old Mr. Macmillan, was about a hundred years old and looked like a walrus who'd lost his tusks.
At Carl Curtis they held their own election, with two sixth-grade boys pretending to be the candidates, and on election day everybody got to vote. The one who was Senator Kennedy won by a mile, which didn't please some of the teachers, who were mostly Republicans. The result of the real election didn't please Ray either because he was a Republican too and couldn't stand Senator Kennedy. He said he was a disaster waiting to happen and too young to know anything about anything. Worst of all, he was a pinko which meant he wouldn't stand up to the Russians who had hundreds of giant rockets with atom bombs on them, all pointing at America. Along the street from the school there was an air raid siren that was tested every month just to make sure it would work when the Russians attacked. Wally said this would most likely happen at night when everybody was asleep.
The subject Tommy liked best was English. Mrs. Hancock, the teacher, was impressed by the number of books he'd read and got him to tell the class about some of them. She didn't seem to mind when he got American spelling wrong or said trousers instead of pants. Some of the kids teased him about his accent but the girls really seemed to like it. One of them, Wendy Carter, kept concocting weird things for him to say, like tomatoes can't dance. And because she had a long blond ponytail and was probably the prettiest girl in the whole school Tommy would oblige and put on his plummiest English accent and say tom-ahr-toes cahrn't dahrnce which made her squeal with laughter and try to imitate him.
He enjoyed history too. It wasn't like Ashlawn, where they had to recite boring lists of dates and all the kings and queens of England. In fact the only king Mrs. Hancock ever mentioned was George III who she called the king who lost his marbles as well as his colonies. Soon they were going to be learning about how the West was won and the railroads were built and how the Indians were beaten and civilized. Tommy could hardly wait.
Meanwhile Diane was busy preparing for Remorseless which was due to start shooting in just a few weeks. She was having acting lessons at Paramount and having lots of meetings with costume and makeup and publicity people. When filming started Miguel was going to have to ferry him to and from school, but so far it was always Diane who did it. Usually after school they would drive out to Warner Brothers to see Ray who was hard at work shooting the new season of Sliprock.
Being on set and watching a real movie—or, at least, a TV show—being made was nowhere near as exciting as Tommy had imagined. In fact, after a while it was downright boring. There was too much waiting around while they fiddled with the lights and touched up the actors' makeup. And then they had to film the same thing again and again and again. It took three whole days to film a show that lasted less than half an hour. Tommy couldn't really understand why it took so long but Ray said that compared with proper movies, this was quick.
Ray always made a big fuss when they arrived on set. On their first visit he took Tommy around and introduced him to all the other actors and the people who worked behind the scenes. The director lifted Tommy up so he could peer through the camera and the cameraman explained how you could fix it so that even when the sun was shining everything looked like nighttime. This was called day for night. A lot of the scenes that looked as if they were done outside were actually done indoors in the studio. There was even a man whose job it was to hide behind the bushes and move them so that it looked as if it were windy.
Today, however, they weren't going to the studio. They were going to drive out of town to the ranch where all the exciting action scenes were shot. Tommy had been looking forward to it all day.
He always felt proud when he saw Diane sitting there waiting for him in the new car Ray had bought her. It was a pale yellow Ford Galaxie convertible with black leather seats. There were lots of kids at Carl Curtis who had moms or dads who were in the movies but none as glamorous as Diane. Wally Freeman said she was a doll and today she really looked it. She was wearing a blue-and-white polka-dot dress and those big sunglasses with the white frames. Her hair was tied up in a pale pink scarf. Tommy climbed in and gave her a kiss and, while they drove up onto Sunset, he changed into the clothes she'd brought along for him. He liked to look the part when he went on set. On his first visit he'd worn his Red McGraw cowboy outfit but it made him feel a bit silly, so now he mostly just wore a plaid shirt and his new jeans which Dolores had washed about a dozen times to make them look faded and worn, just like Ray's.
Soon they were turning off the main highway and onto the little road that wound up into the hills. The air was warm and smelled sweet and there were cactus plants and lizards sunbathing on great slabs of pink rock that shimmered in the heat. Tommy had been telling her about his day and how he'd won again at boxing. He'd been so busy talking that he hadn't noticed until now that Diane wasn't asking him questions the way she usually did. She didn't even really seem to be listening.
"Are you okay?"
She brightened.
"Me? Of course. Sorry, darling. I'm just a little tired."
They reached the ranch and parked the car with all the film crew's trucks. One of the assistant directors sent word to let Ray know they'd arrived and in a few minutes he came to meet them, grinning and giving them his usual big welcome. They headed out along a dusty path to where the filming was going on, Ray walking between them with his arms draped around their shoulders. This always gave Tommy a kind of glow inside, made him feel safe and normal. Life was so good and happy and packed with excitement that he sometimes worried that it couldn't possibly last.
Ray explained that they were doing a scene in which Red McGraw had been ambushed by some outlaws and was holed up in a clump of rocks while they all shot at one another. Then he had to whistle for Amigo, his famous white horse, and jump onto him as he ran past. They'd already done the close-ups of Ray shooting and whistling and getting ready to jump and now they were filming Cal Matthieson actually doing the jump.
Tommy had heard about Cal and was excited to meet him, not just because he was the head wrangler but also because he was half Blackfeet Indian. Tommy had never met a real Indian and he could remember reading somewhere that the Blackfeet had been one of the most ferocious and terrifying tribes of all. Cal wasn't only in charge of the horses, he was also Ray's stunt double which meant he had to pretend to be Red McGraw when there was a fight or when Red had to jump off a horse or a roof or do anything else that was too dangerous for Ray to do. Ray said he could easily have done these things himself but the studio insurance people wouldn't let him.
Now they were almost ready to shoot. Dressed in an outfit identical to Ray's, Cal Matthieson was squatting on top of the rock, giving some final instructions to the wrangler below him who was holding Amigo. From the top of the rock to the horse's saddle was a drop of about ten feet. The wrangler nodded and led Amigo to a place about a hundred yards away where they turned and waited. Cal went back into the rocks and crouched down. When everyone was ready the first assistant director called for quiet and then the director, who was up beside the camera, yelled Roll 'em! and Action!
Cal whistled and Amigo pricked his ears and started to run. By the time he reached the rocks he was almost at a gallop and Cal ran across the rock and leaped into the air and landed right in the saddle and Amigo didn't even flinch, just kept on running.
"Wow!" Tommy called out. Everybody turned to look at him and he remembered how you were supposed to keep quiet and he felt stupid and started to blush. It didn't seem to matter too much though. Ray just laughed and slapped him on the back and anyway everybody was now clapping and cheering Cal Matthieson for doing the stunt so well in a single take.
"It's kind of easy, once you know how," Ray said.
The sun was getting low and the light was going all golden. Ray said this was called magic hour, the time directors loved best because it made everything look so pretty on film. He had to do one more scene and while he went off to the makeup trailer Tommy and Diane walked over to the corral and leaned on the rail watching the horses. A few minutes after they got there, Cal Matthieson arrived with Amigo. He smiled and said hello and touched the brim of his hat to Diane.
"That was really impressive," Diane said.
"Thanks, but it's this fella here who deserves the praise."
He rubbed Amigo on the neck and the horse snorted and tossed his head as if he agreed.
"See? He even speaks English."
They laughed and Cal climbed down and shook hands with them both.
"I'm Diane and this is Tommy."
"I know. Good to meet you, Tommy. I've heard a lot about you."
He had shiny black hair and kind brown eyes with little creases at the sides. Tommy knew Indians didn't really have red skin but Cal's wasn't even brown. He just looked as if he had a bit of a tan like everyone else. It was funny seeing him in Ray's clothes.
"So, young man. Do you know how to ride yet?"
"I've been on pony rides at the zoo but that's all."
"Want to have a go?"
"You mean on Amigo? Really?"
"Sure. If it's okay with Mom."
Tommy looked at Diane and saw that it was. Cal shortened the stirrups then hoisted him into the saddle.
"How does that feel?"
"Great."
"Okay, now gallop over there and jump that rail," he said.
"Oh, I don't think..." Diane began then realized he was only kidding and laughed.
Cal showed Tommy how to sit properly and how to hold the reins then how to let the horse know that he wanted him to move out. And as Amigo stepped forward, Cal walked beside him, not holding on to anything, just keeping a little to one side so that Tommy felt in control.
"He's beautiful," Tommy said.
"He is. Best Amigo of 'em all."
"You mean there's more than one?"
"Four. The others are good at different things, falling, jumping, having guns go off by their ears. This fella can do it all. Move your hips a little so you get his rhythm. That's it. That's good. Now you're riding. Try taking him around that tree and back on your own."
Diane was starting to breathe more freely. The air up here in the hills was clean and fresh and, now that the sun was getting low, the world seemed more benign again. Seeing Tommy so happy always lifted her spirits. He was riding away toward the tree on the beautiful white horse, their joined shadow long on the dusty red earth. With her arms folded, she walked slowly up to stand beside Cal Matthieson and he turned briefly and smiled. Tommy had reached the tree now and was bringing the horse around. It was as if he'd ridden all his life.
When Ray had come to meet them, all smiles and kisses and hugs, it had taken great self-restraint not to make a scene. Throughout the day she'd been itching to fly at him, scream at him, strangle the lying bastard. Now all she wanted was to talk and find out the truth.
Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding.
The phone had rung that morning just as she was walking out to the car that had come to take her to the studio. Dolores had answered in the hallway and called out Miss Diane! from the front door, only a shade more politely than if she were summoning a dog.
"It's Louella Parsons."
"For Ray?"
"For you."
Diane had never met nor spoken with the woman and had a sudden flutter of nerves. Like most people in Hollywood, she often read the famous column in the Examiner and she had felt flattered by the positive snippets it had carried about her. Louella Parsons was in her late seventies and her influence was waning, but a few casually poisonous words in her column could still kill a career. For her to call Diane at Ray's and at such an hour meant she obviously knew they were living together.
"Diane, my dear. So glad to find you in. I hear such marvelous things about you."
The voice was sickly sweet, almost a caricature of falseness. Diane had an image of a fat and fluffy pink spider.
"Really? That's nice."
"Ye-es. Dear Herb is so, so clever, don't you think? And such a darling. You and Coop. I just can't wait. It's going to be like Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable all over again. Dear, dear Clark, God rest his soul. What a terrible loss to us all. Did you know him?"
Clark Gable had died of a heart attack just two weeks earlier. Hollywood was still in mourning.
"No, I—"
"Such a marvelous man. He was always on my radio show."
"Yes, I—"
"Anyway, my dear. Back to business. I hear on the grapevine that you and Ray are to be married?"
"Well, we—"
"Oh, come along, dear. Don't be coy. You can tell Louella."
"We hope to get married at Christmas."
"How lovely. Congratulations. Ray is such a charmer, isn't he? And I'm sure it's going to be a case of third time lucky for him. Matter of fact, I didn't know his divorce had come through."
Diane froze.
"Diane? Hello?"
"Well, actually, I—"
"You did know he was married?"
"Yes, of course I did. Louella, I'm sorry but I'm running a little late for a meeting. Can I call you later?"
"Of course, my dear. Just one more thing. Your son, um..."
"Tommy."
"Tommy! Silly me. Just so I don't make a mistake, who is his daddy?"
For this, at least, thanks to the good offices of Herb Kanter and Vernon Drewe, Diane was prepared. They had worked out a story for exactly this sort of occasion.
"He died. Shortly after Tommy was born."
"I'm so sorry. How terrible."
"Yes."
"Of what?"
"Excuse me?"
"Of what did he die?"
"TB."
"Terrible. You must have been devastated."
"Yes."
"And what was his name, dear?"
"Louella, do you have to write about this? I don't want to upset Tommy."
"Of course, dear. But just for background, what was the father's name?"
"David."
"David Reed."
"David Willis."
She hung up and, as soon as she could gather her wits a little and breathe again, called Vernon Drewe and told him all about it. He tried to calm her, said she'd handled it perfectly and there was nothing to worry about. He knew Louella well and would call her, he added, just in case there were any misunderstandings. Diane didn't mention Louella's comment about Ray's divorce. She had to ask Ray about it first, but he'd been working out here at the ranch all day and they hadn't yet been able to talk.
Tommy was walking Amigo back now, the sky glowing pink and orange behind them.
"The boy's a natural," Cal Matthieson said.
"I think Amigo's looking after him."
"Well, that's true."
"Does he belong to you?"
"He kind of belongs to himself but I was there when he was born. Hell, I was even there when he was made."
"And all the other horses? Are they yours too?"
"Some are but they mostly belong to my partner, Don Maxwell. Not that you can really call it a partnership. Don owns all the real estate and I get to do all the work."
"Do you live up here?"
"Uh-huh. Little place just around the hill there. It's about as close to a city as I like to get."
He looked at her and they both smiled. For a moment neither of them seemed to know what to say next.
"I hear you're going to be doing a movie with Gary Cooper."
"Yes. We start shooting next month."
"He's the best."
"So everybody says. I haven't even met him yet."
"A real nice guy. Born in Montana, so it figures."
"That's where you come from too?"
"How'd you guess?"
Diane laughed. Tommy was coming close now and Cal Matthieson told him to sit back in the saddle and tighten the reins a little and the horse came to a halt directly in front of them.
"Tommy, were you kidding me when you said you hadn't ridden before?"
"No, honestly, I haven't."
"Well, I was going to say, if it was okay with your mom here, you might care to come up here for a lesson sometime, but you seem to have it all pretty much figured out already."
"Could I? Could I really come up here and ride?"
"You'll have to ask your mom."
"Of course you can," Diane said. "If Mr. Matthieson doesn't mind."
"Mr. Matthieson doesn't. It's Cal, by the way."
It was dark by the time they wrapped. Ray let the studio car and driver go and drove them home himself in Diane's Galaxie. They came back beside the ocean and Tommy fell asleep between them with his head on Diane's shoulder. She put her arm around him and stared out at the horizon and watched a thin band of crimson turn to purple and black.
Ray was going on about the director, how slow and useless he was, how he always managed to put the camera in the wrong place. And Diane half listened and murmured brief replies when he started asking her about her day until eventually he gave up and there was silence between them, just the rush of the wind and the whoosh of passing cars.
"Are you okay?" Ray said.
"I'm fine."
"No, you're not. What is it?"
"Not now. I'll tell you later."
"Come on, sugar, tell me."
"Not now!"
When they reached home Miguel came out to greet them then drove the car off to the garage. Ray carried Tommy cradled asleep in his arms into the house and upstairs to his room and laid him on the bed and left him alone with Diane. Tommy stirred a little as she undressed him and hauled his slack and skinny limbs into his pajamas. There was a film of red dust on his face and hands but she didn't have the heart to wake him and make him take a bath, so she wet a sponge with warm water and wiped away the worst. Then she gently pushed him under the covers and sat on the bed beside him, staring down at him. She stroked the hair from his forehead. He was growing so fast, the face getting leaner, somehow less vulnerable. She turned off the bedside light and leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He smelled of horses. Sometimes the love she felt for him was like a pain in her chest.
When she came downstairs Ray had two margaritas waiting for them in the living room. Dolores was on her knees, putting a match to the fire she'd laid in the enormous cast-iron grate. She stood and smoothed her apron then walked past Diane without a greeting or a smile, just a sideways glance.
"Goodnight," Diane said.
Dolores muttered something and was gone.
"What is it with that woman? What have I done?"
"Nothing," Ray said, walking over to her. "It's just territorial, I guess. I'll have another word with her."
He put his arms around her and Diane kept still.
"More to the point," he said, "what have I done?"
Diane hesitated. She didn't want to sound ridiculous or neurotic. He was holding her by the shoulders now, peering into her eyes for a clue.
"Come on," he said. "Tell me."
"Ray, are you still married?"
"What?"
"You told me you were divorced. Are you?"
"Sugar, who have you been talking with?"
"Oh, only Louella Parsons."
"Jesus Christ! What's that goddamn bitch been saying? Diane, listen—"
"Are you divorced, Ray? Yes or no? Tell me!"
"Technically, not quite, but—"
"So you lied to me."
She was trying to tug the engagement ring off her finger but the damn thing wouldn't budge.
"Diane—"
"You lied! And can we just be clear which divorce we're talking about here? Is it wife number one or wife number two?"
"Diane, for heaven's sake. Just let me explain."
The ring was off now and she slammed it down on the glass top of the table, making the margarita glasses tremble and spill.
"You'd better have that back."
She was about to walk away but he grabbed her by the wrist.
"Diane, listen, please."
"I'm listening."
"The papers are due any day. Everything's settled. All I have to do is sign. In a week or two it'll be—"
"You said you were divorced and you're not."
"I know, I'm sorry. But it's only a formality—"
"Oh, really? And the other marriage? The one you somehow forgot to tell me about, was that a formality too?"
"Diane, we were just kids. It lasted ten months."
"And that's why you didn't think to mention it?"
"Well, I—"
"And how about number two, was that a little longer? Eleven months or did you make a year?"
"Sugar, don't do this."
"Don't sugar me!"
He took her other arm now and held her in front of him so that she couldn't move.
"Let go of me!"
"Diane, look at me. Look at me!"
From the flash in his eyes, for a moment she thought he was going to hit her.
"I love you more than anyone or anything I've ever known. You and Tommy are my life now. We're not all as perfect as you. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, things I wish I could undo. But I know about you and me, how good we are together, how we're meant to be together. Sweetheart, I'd do anything for you. And for Tommy. Jesus, Diane, I'd die for you both."
Those were the words that clinched it, though she was still too proud and angry to let him see the effect they had on her. If he'd spoken merely of his love for her, she might have let him suffer much longer. She might even (indeed, the idea had already occurred to her) have gathered Tommy from his bed and left for good. But the fact that, in his corny B movie declaration of love, he had included her son seemed to crack her resolve. And this in turn made her angry, not with him but with herself. She slapped him hard across the face.
He took it without flinching, as if it was only what he deserved, and as she saw the reddening mark she had made on his cheek she bent her head and began to cry and he held her and kissed her forehead. He gently helped her sit on the edge of the couch and sat beside her in silence with his arms around her while she wept.
And when she could speak again he answered her cold questions about his marriages and kept saying how sorry he was that he hadn't been honest with her and that the only reason was his fear of losing what he now knew for sure to be the love of his life. An hour later he led her to the stairs and up to their room and took off her clothes and kissed her neck and her breasts while she stood stony and proud and confused and not yet forgiving before him. And during what followed, into the darkest hours, she punished him for his lies.
Their lovemaking, from the outset, had always carried the hint of violence, like some sleeping feral creature whose potential and containment excited them both. But that night Diane opened the cage. She struck him and gouged his skin with her nails until he bled and wrenched his hair and bent him at his root until he cried out in pain. And the dormant creature, the one that would ultimately devour them, was roused and loose and on the prowl.