Death Actually Page 8

  Stepping out of the warm house into the cold, Estelle watched as Maggie pulled her down jacket around her before turning with an outstretched hand to say goodbye.

  Closing the door, Estelle was surprised at how well she coped with physical contact with a purveyor of the dead.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mike had done his best to explain the finer points of driving a jetboat to Tim James, but even he, known for being one of the calmest men on the lake, had given up. Tim knew everything about everything, and rather than listening to advice was instead telling Mike about each and every race, chase, and stunt sequence he had ever done. He raved on about how he had personally designed most of them, driving boats of all descriptions on rivers as diverse as the Nile and the Hudson.

  Mike didn’t like to point out the rivers mentioned were actually very similar, the only difference being they were on different continents. Both the Nile and Hudson were deep, predictable bodies of solid water, providing grip and resistance to a boat’s propellers. Not only that, but they were also wide bodies of water, which made them forgiving and manoeuvrable.

  The braided shallow river courses of the South Island were completely different. Shallow and constantly changing, they were far more challenging, and unless Mike somehow managed to get this through to Tim, the potential for disaster was huge. Jimmy, the young director, had again pleaded with him to try and make Tim understand that the boats were different and needed to be to cope with this type of river. This was the most expensive sequence in the movie, and the insurance premiums were exorbitant. Mike knew Jimmy had considered writing out the Tim James scenes altogether, but the backers had insisted he keep them in. Tim had the star power to pull in audiences around the world, and the backers demanded a film that repaid their investment not only in full but with interest. Or, as Jimmy’s father had told them, “This is your only chance. Cock this up and it’s over.”

  Mike felt sorry for the young director, and so, when he’d cooled down, he approached Tim again. Differently this time. “Let’s walk down to the boat, shall we?” he said.

  As they reached the riverbank, where the boat was tied up to a heavy log, he said, “You and me, we’re men of the outdoors. We have a natural affinity for the world around us. I watched you kayak those rapids in the last Possible Harm movie, and I was gob-smacked. I told Susie, the wife, ‘There’s a man after my own heart.’ It’s just a pity Health and Safety gets in our way.”

  “I know exactly what you mean – Mike, isn’t it?”

  Mike nodded.

  “It’s just that when someone speaks to me like I’m an idiot who has no appreciation of risk, that’s when I turn off. You’d be the same.”

  Mike nodded again. He couldn’t decide if this guy was all right, or if he was a total asshole taking the piss.

  “So go on, tell me what you have to, Mike, and I’ll listen. Then you can go back to our young nervous director over there and you can tell him the Health and Safety box has been ticked.”

  Asshole. Definitely.

  Taking a deep breath, Mike went over everything he had told Tim before, but more slowly this time. It was good to see the guy fidget with irritation.

  “The Dart – this river,” he said, pointing at the water behind him, “is like all South Island mountain-fed rivers. It’s always changing. Rainfall high in the ranges behind us,” he said, sweeping his arms towards the peaks rising high behind the bush, “comes down here in a rush and the sandy gravel bed means it picks up speed – nothing to slow it down, see. This makes it aerated or bubbly, not as “solid” as the water you’ve been on before. Less-solid, that makes it harder for a propeller to push against, and the variability in flow, depth and currents compounds the problem.”

  Tim was fiddling with a stick he’d picked up, smoothing it this way and that. He looked up when Mike stopped talking. “I get it. I do,” he said. “Go on.”

  Mike decided this asshole deserved the long version, the one he gave in schools. “Just after the Second World War, which saw the development of the jet engine, a New Zealand high country farmer-engineer designed and built an impellor system, or an inboard version of a jet engine, for boats.”

  “What was the guy’s name?” asked Tim.

  “Hamilton,” said Mike. “That’s why they’re called” he paused and pointed to the logo on the engine, “HamiltonJets.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me, Mike. One, I don’t have to be here, and two, I was only asking.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr James. I’ll make this as quick as I can so both of us can get out of here. The boats are fast – very fast – and that’s because they rise to the top of the water. This makes them manouvreable, but it’s also dangerous because they can slide out from underneath you just when you least expect it. You have to constantly be looking ahead, reading the river to get the best out of these beauties.”

  Tim had dropped the stick and was kicking the sand out from under an old log by the time Mike had finished. A cold mist had sunk low between the dark bush-clad hills, creating an eerie atmosphere in the stony river valley.

  “Listen,” he said to Mike, fingers to his lips.

  Mike breathed out slowly, saying nothing.

  “Amazing,” said Tim. “Nothing but nature. I hear nothing but the sounds of nature. What a beautiful country.”

  Mike could only assume the sounds of a movie crew of ninety people going about their business in various vehicles beside the river were, to Tim, an integral sound of nature.

  Mike looked over to Jimmy and lifted his shoulders, hands upraised in capitulation. “I tried,” he mouthed to the desperate director standing a little way off up the bank.

  Jimmy walked down to the boat. “Mike, why don’t you get some coffee while I explain to Tim here how his scene is going to work.”

  Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He disappeared in the direction of the food truck before Jimmy had finished speaking.

  “You know, Jimmy,” said Tim, still kicking the sand away from under the log, “I don’t appreciate being treated like some rookie on his first film. I’ve done more chase scenes than that guy has had hot dinners. And I don’t need him to tell me how to drive a goddamned boat.”

  Jimmy sighed. It was going to be a long day. “Of course, you’re totally right, Tim. I’ll tell him to back off.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Jimmy,” said Tim, turning to face him. “Now tell me what you have in mind and maybe together we can come up with something great.”

  Jimmy reached for the storyboard again. He’d already been over this with Tim several times, but what the hell, maybe this time he might listen.

  “Your character, the key to the whole movie, is escaping the bad guys. They surprise you in their helicopter, you jump into your boat and get down the river as fast as you can, dodging bullets along the way before you reach the lake and safety. Mike will go over the route with you. He’ll be flying the chopper behind you and letting you know which channel to take through your earpiece, at the same time. His co-pilot is the stuntman, who will be shooting at you.”

  “And the cameras?”

  “I’m planning to have one camera running continuously on the side of the chopper, and another in the chopper itself. Your boat shots will also be filmed by drones flying on either side of you, and of course the camera on the boat. Remember, Tim, because you insist on driving the boat you need to be absolutely focused on Mike’s instructions. Your only job is to watch the river ahead and follow Mike’s directions. And every now and then pretend to duck a bullet. Do not look away from the river. These boats are tricky beasts, as no doubt Mike has told you, but I promise the sequence will look amazing.”

  Jimmy finally had the feeling the guy had taken his instructions on board. Maybe, just maybe, it would work out all right.

  “Sounds good, mate,” said Tim in an ersatz Kiwi accent. As the actor laughed uproariously, Jimmy thought it only polite to join in.

  They walked up to the food truck where Tim asked for a
coffee rather than going back to the privacy of his trailer. Early in his career he had learned how important it was to mingle with the crew. He knew that if he offended anyone on set, they could and would work against him. Rumours of what a pain in the butt he was would surface in the pages of the trades before seeping into the popular press, and before long he’d be known as “demanding and temperamental”. The best crews in the business would suddenly be too busy to work on his films. “Look what happened to Christian Bale when he lost his cool on set,” he’d said to Matt only last night.

  “Christian who?” Matt had said, right on cue.

  “You’re good, Matt. You’re good.”

  Tim was good with being known as approachable and friendly, as far as it went. Dammit though, he was a star – a huge star, and a star who always did his own stunts. Usually that got him some credit from the crew. That guy, Mike, had treated him like a child, explaining about bloody rivers and who invented the goddamned boat, for chrissakes. As if he cared. He’d assumed this crew from the back end of nowhere would know and respect his work without him having to spell it out. After all, who better to make Tim James look great while keeping Tim James safe than Tim James himself?

  There was also a flippancy creeping into the team, which made him anxious. If he was going to put his neck on the line, he needed everyone to back him, and the jokes the Kiwis made at every opportunity were starting to grate. Their not-so-subtle references to his interview and his mother didn’t help. He was in the goddamned middle of nowhere, and still his mother made his life miserable.

  The director had assured him he’d be needed for only two days of filming, and Tim was looking forward to getting back on his plane and getting the hell back to the States, his debt to Jimmy’s father well and truly cleared – but everything was happening frustratingly slowly. One of the grips had said something about the weather up in the mountains being bad. The river was running too high, or some such nonsense.

  Back home there was a new movie to plan. Jenny and Isaac were booked for a photo shoot with Annie Leibovitz, no less. He needed a boost to his star tank after the last few days, and he didn’t want to piss about in this underpopulated backwater for any longer than necessary. For the first time on a foreign set, Tim was homesick.

  “More coffee, Mr James?” asked the caterer.

  “No thanks, I’m good. Best darn coffee I’ve ever had.” He handed the mug back to the woman and smiled his famous smile at the people standing awkwardly beside him.

  “Mike?” he called. “Why don’t we cut the bullshit and take the boat out? We could even have some fun.”

  Mike shrugged. Tim, keen to get moving, was already walking down to the river’s edge. They climbed in and Mike took the wheel. He turned the key and the engine rumbled into life, water bubbling up behind. One of the guys untied the rope and Mike throttled gently into reverse, backing the boat into the current. He eased the throttle forward and they were off, picking up speed, the prow rising till they were planing across the surface, driving upstream. Even Tim had to admit this was a totally different and very thrilling kind of ride.

  Mike swerved the boat to negotiate bars of gravel and sand midstream, at times turning almost directly into them so the back of the boat swung out behind before catching the deeper draught, enabling him to power forward and around. Ahead of them, Mt Cosmos dominated the glacial valley, a source of the pounamu or greenstone that his people had used for tools and jewelry long before the arrival of Europeans. This sacred mountain had been attracting Maori, then Pakeha, for centuries. On each side of the valley, waterfalls cascaded vertically over rock faces high above the dark southern beech forests lining the lower reaches. The sun broke through the clouds and the mist had now gone – it was, after all, a fabulous day to be working.

  Mike slowed the boat until it sat low in the channel, the idling engine gobbling water. He held the wheel, indicating Tim should take it, and they swapped places awkwardly. Once more Mike quickly went over the controls with Tim, and this time the guy seemed to be paying attention. Tim eased the throttle forward, gradually getting used to the boat’s response. Ahead was a long uninterrupted stretch of relatively deep fast-flowing water. Without checking with Mike first, Tim pushed the throttle hard down, putting the pedal to the floor, feeling the prow rise up, the full-throated roar of the engine reverberating between the valley walls. Tim banked into his first turn, copying Mike’s moves exactly, and positioned the boat beautifully for the next bend. Mike had to admit the guy had natural ability.

  It was the log that bobbed up in the current at the last minute that ruined the morning. Mike saw it in time, but Tim, less used to reading the river, didn’t see it until it was too late. The boat hit the log at full speed, front on, knocking the hull off line. Tim did his best to slow down and almost made it, but by then the hull had tipped into a sandbank, stopping momentarily and throwing Tim sideways into the solid metal bar across the top of the windscreen. Mike reached over and grabbed the controls, pushing Tim out of the way, and steered to a spot where he could nose the boat out of the current and rest it against a gravel island in the middle of the river.

  The damage was obvious – copious quantities of blood were pouring down the famous face from a large cut across the forehead. Tim would need medical attention and stitches. A lot of stitches.

  Mike found the first aid kit, and once the bleeding was staunched with a large swab and a badly applied but tight bandage, he turned the boat around and they returned to camp in silence.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lizzie said nothing about the late delivery and her tantrum the previous morning when Nick arrived with her food. She was surprisingly chatty, not only pausing her game but going as far as to put down the remote on the sofa beside her. Today, the living room was tidy and a small window at the back of the room had been left open so the normally musty room smelt fresh.

  “Would you mind shutting that window for me, Nick?” Lizzie asked as he deposited the food on the table. “I can’t reach it from here.”

  When the window was closed she said, “I’m assuming your mother’s told you all about me. She is Maggie Potter, isn’t she?” When Nick nodded she continued, “Maggie was one of the better girls at school, not like some of those other bitches. Someone famous once said, ‘Anyone who says women should rule the world instead of men obviously never went to high school.’ She was talking about our school.” Lizzie lifted out a slice of pizza from the box closest to her and took a huge bite. “Tell your mother to come and see me,” she said through her food. “I need to discuss something with her.”

  Lizzie ate her way efficiently and quickly through the first piece of pizza and started on the second, all the while talking to Nick, who eventually had to look away as half-chewed food dropped from her mouth, bounced off her shelf-like bust and came to rest in the folds of the voluminous filthy lap below.

  “So, what do you do – apart from delivering food to disgusting fat cripples, that is,” she asked.

  The protest stopped on Nick’s lips and he decided to let it go. “Just this. Trying to earn as much as I can to pay for design school in Wellington next year. CADs. One day you might be playing one of my games.”

  But he could tell Lizzie’s interest in him had waned. She’d eaten enough and was eager to get back to her game. Her fingers twitched, her eyes turned again to the screen and it came alive. A slim, agile young woman was leaping past every conceivable barrier to freedom.

  “OK then,” he said to Lizzie’s back as he packed up the empty pizza box. He’d drop it in the bin at the bottom of the stairs. “See you tomorrow.”

  There was no word of thanks, no acknowledgment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Maggie and Kate arrived separately at Elka’s at two o’clock. Most of the lunch crowd had left, which suited them both. Maggie wanted to be able to talk openly; she didn’t want their conversation overheard by nosy neighbours.

  Elka waved to them from her table near the kitchen
, where she was working on her laptop. “Kate and Maggie, my two favourite women in the world,” she said, closing her computer. “Sit, sit,” she called after exchanging kisses and a long hug with Kate. A waitress placed glasses of Prosecco in front of them while another staff member brought out an antipasto platter.

  Elka raised her glass to Kate. “A toast, to the return of Kate, my favourite goddaughter. Welcome back.”

  “Your only goddaughter, I thought,” said Kate.

  “Exactly.”

  Elka fixed Kate with a beady stare and commanded imperiously, “News, Kate. And if you leave anything out, we will know!”

  Kate took a tiny sip of the crisp clean wine then a deeper draught of water, and smiled. “What can I say? In a nutshell, two years ago I left, as you know, and travelled through Asia, as you know. I had a great time, broke up with Brett in Vietnam because he was more interested in Tiger Beer than he was in me, as you know. Went across Russia and Europe, as you know, and took the first job I could get in London, which was at Eric’s restaurant in Mayfair, and I have been there ever since, as you know.”

  “And?”

  “I worked like a dog. He didn’t even know I was there, the place was so big. The sous chef gave me all the horrible jobs, and I mean horrible. My poor hands. But ‘head down bum up’, as you always told me, and I slowly worked my way up the ranks. You must have read about the huge fight they had. Eric and Charlie. It made all the papers. Unlucky that the guest got in the way and ended up with a black eye. Lucky for Eric he’d ducked and it was Charlie who’d decked him. It meant Eric could call the police and fire poor Charlie on the spot. We were so busy after that – you know what they say. Any publicity is good publicity. Eric didn’t have time to advertise and I was suddenly sous chef in a three-star restaurant. And then he opened the new place and I was left in charge. You’ve read my reviews, haven’t you, Elka? Did I make you proud?”