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Back The Actresses Save as PDF
Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. THE ACTRESSES
  3. About The Actresses
  4. Contents
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. About Barbara Ewing
  49. Also by Barbara Ewing
  50. An Invitation from the Publisher
  51. Copyright

‘Well fuck me that’s the most uncommercial subject I ever heard: sex and old women. You’ve got to be joking.’ He looked across at the two young bodies lying in the sunshine.

‘Ageing women,’ Bud Martin corrected him mildly. ‘Yeah, maybe. Great script though.’

‘Sounds like a load of laughs to me!’ And Waylon did laugh, reached out for the new bottle of white burgundy. ‘So why don’t you change it a bit?’

‘Like what?’

‘Make it a young woman.’

‘But age is the point.’

‘Well make it an older man then.’

Bud shrugged. ‘Like I say, that’s the story.’

‘It’ll be a dog,’ said Waylon Jones, ‘I’m telling you now.’ He poured more wine. ‘Wanna eat?’

But Bud Martin stood up, tall and impressive in the sunshine. ‘Sophie!’ he called, emptying his glass. He looked at his watch. ‘In an hour I guess,’ he said to Waylon, as Sophie came towards him in her dark glasses and her bikini. He put an arm out to her without speaking and they disappeared again into one of the cabins.

Waylon Jones remained sitting by himself in the shade, puffing on his cigar. He looked across at the other girl, lying there on the deck in her bikini. She had undone the top, so as not to get marks across her back.

Age and desire in women. What kind of a fucking subject was that for a movie? He stared again at the young girl lying in the sunshine, she turned her head and caught his eye. But he looked away, poured himself another glass of wine. He remained sitting there, on the deck of The Little Love Boat.

5

It was after seven o’clock when they finally tottered out on to the pavement of the side-street where the tiny club, Maxi’s Drinking Emporium, was housed in a basement. They hailed taxis and called loud goodbyes; the city pigeons, disturbed, flapped off the windowsills of the old brick buildings in the evening sunshine, flew upwards.

‘See you at the garden party, all of you,’ cried Anthony, as he staggered towards the first taxi; Frances and Emmy Lou took the second one. Harry said he would walk. Their over-loud voices called to each other until the side-street was empty. Then the city pigeons flapped back to the grimy windowsills, cooing and whirring in the hot, gritty air.

*

Harry Donaldson breathed deeply as he walked, shook his head, tried to clear it, but such small gestures were useless, he’d need several strong black coffees before he talked to anyone else.

Especially before he talked to Michael.