My Week with Marilyn #8...it ends

MY  WEEK  WITH  MARILYN

Tuesday, 18 September

For the first two minutes, I was feeling so wonderful that I could not even imagine falling asleep. The next thing I knew, an alarm clock was going off on the other side of the bed, and sunlight was streaming into the room. To my amazement I could hear singing and splashing coming from the bathroom.

'I found a dream, I laid in your arms the whole night through, I'm yours, no matter what others may say or do . . .'

Marilyn was rehearsing the beautiful little waltz written by Richard Addinsell for the film — 'The Sleeping Prince Waltz'. So she can get up in the morning after all, I thought, if she wants to.

Then, as I clambered over the quilt to silence the clock, it dawned on me that I could be in serious trouble. I had just spent the night in bed with someone else's wife, and there were five witnesses right here in the house. I retrieved my grey flannel trousers from the floor and went into the dressing room. At least there was a sofa in there, even though it was rather short. I went back into the bedroom for a couple of pillows and that fancy pink coverlet and arranged them in careful disarray, to make it look as if I had spent the night as far away from Marilyn as possible. Only Maria would see it, I thought, so I must make sure she would notice. I might need her to give evidence later — I was not sure to whom. I put an ashtray and a glass on the floor by the sofa, as well as a pile of books.

'Marilyn,' I called. Tm going to the studio. See you there soon. OK?'

Marilyn came out of the bathroom in her white towelling robe.

'Hey, Colin, you look a bit messed up. What will Sir Laurence say? I slept great. I'm really going to show him what I can do today. Wait a minute, you need the key to escape.'

She laughed and went to her dressing table.

'There you are. Tell Roger I'll be down in ten minutes. See you later.'

It was already a quarter to seven.

"Bye, Marilyn. You are a star.'

I tore downstairs, almost crashing into Roger in the hall.

'Miss Monroe will be leaving in ten minutes,' I gasped.

Roger looked grim.

'Don't worry, Roger. She's feeling great.'

'I'll bet she is.'

'Now, Roger, don't jump to conclusions. I slept in the dressing room. See you at the studio. And please, put on a cheerful face. We can't have her losing her nerve now.'

'Morning, Evans,' I called cheerily as I roared off down the drive.

I managed to get to the studios just one minute before Sir Laurence's brown Bendey came round the corner of the dressing-room wing.

'Morning, boy! Is make-up ready?'

'I'll check, Sir Laurence.'

Olivier stopped and stared.

'You look a bit rough this morning. Anything up?'

'Everything is fine, I think, Sir Laurence.'

'Good. Well, let me know when Marilyn arrives. That is, if she does arrive at all. Any clues?'

'Oh, I think she will arrive this morning.'

Olivier gave me a piercing look.

'I really hope so,' I said to myself. You could never be absolutely sure with Marilyn.

'High time, too.'

He went into his dressing room and shut the door, while I went in search of the make-up man. Ten minutes later, to my huge relief, Marilyn's car appeared, Evans impassive at the wheel. Out got Roger. Out got Paula, out got Marilyn.

'Good morning, Colin.'

'Good morning, Miss Monroe. It's a lovely day.' I couldn't resist a grin.

'Yes, isn't it Colin!' and she grinned right at me, to Paula and Roger's obvious alarm.

'Make-up is waiting in your dressing room. I'll be back in an hour.'

'All right. See you then.'

I rushed along to Olivier's dressing room bursting with pride.

'Miss Monroe has arrived, Sir Laurence. She's being made up now.'

'What? At 7.15? Why, she's almost on time. What the hell brought that about? Colin, were you involved in this?'

Olivier glowered, and then gave a roar of laughter.

'You spent the night with her, didn't you? No wonder you look so scruffy. Oh dear, what will I tell K and Jane [my parents]?'

'Nothing improper happened, Larry, I promise.'

'I don't care if it did. At least you got her to the studio on time. That's all that matters. Now, let's settle down and try to make a film. And well done — but if I were you I'd go along to wardrobe and try to smarten up. And maybe to make-up too. And have a shower. You don't want the whole studio to know.'

Gradually the rest of the crew arrived, and one by one they nearly fainted with surprise. 'Marilyn!' 'Here already?' 'I can't believe it!' 'That's a first!' etc. The set was dressed and the lights rehung in half the normal time. David Orton kept me busier than usual on the studio floor, and I forgot all about Marilyn until her dresser came to find me two hours later.

'Miss Monroe would like a word, Colin.'

David groaned. 'At least let me know if she's ready, will you?'

'Oh, she's ready, Mr Orton,' said the dresser. 'She just wants a word with Colin first.'

'Oh she does, does she? Has Colin taken on Paula's job too, then?' He raised his eyes to heaven. 'Lord, what did I do to deserve an assistant director like this?'

When I got to Marilyn's dressing room, she was still in the inner sanctum, but fully dressed and looking radiant.

'Colin, I'm feeling a little nervous now,' she said. She gripped my fingers hard. 'What do you think?'

'Marilyn, darling,' I didn't care if Paula could hear or not. 'Think of the future. You are the future. Now, come on the set and show those old fogies what you can do.'

It was a wonderful day. I only had eyes for Marilyn, although I didn't speak to her again. To my great relief most of the crew simply ignored me. It was as if my new role made me someone else, and put me on a different level. Paula fussed around as usual, but Marilyn seemed to have risen above her in some way, like a swan gliding through the reeds. She remembered her lines, came in on cue, and smiled brightly at the other actors on the set. When Olivier went over to give her some direction, she looked directly into his eyes and said, 'Gee! Sure!' instead of turning to Paula halfway through.

It was not until she was back in her dressing room at the end of the day that I got a chance to spend a moment with her alone.

'You were magnificent! You did it! You showed them all!'

'I was scared. Will you come by again this evening? Please? Come after supper. I've got to spend some time with Paula. I've got to learn my lines.'

The ice beneath my feet was wafer-thin, but I could not resist those eyes.

'All right. I'll come. But I've got no excuse to spend the night this time.'

'See you later then, Colin.'

'Goodbye.'

Tony and Anne looked pretty stunned when I reappeared at Runnymede House that evening. By now they knew where I had been the night before, and I don't think they ever expected to see me again. It was as if they thought Marilyn had swallowed me up, like a snake. Anne seemed rather upset, but Tony was full of congratulations.

'I don't know how you did it, Colin, but Laurence' — Tony is the only man in the world who calls Olivier 'Laurence' — was absolutely delighted. 'At this rate we'll finish the film early. What did you do? Do you think it will last?'

'I wouldn't bet on it,' I said.

'I think we can all guess what Colin did,' said Anne tartly. 'The question is, what happens next? And what will Mr Miller say when he gets back?'

'Marilyn and I are not having an affair,' I said wearily.

'No, of course not,' said Tony bluffly. 'Just good friends, right? Anyway, you're much too young for her.'

'And much too naive,' added Anne.

'So you'll be staying here tonight, I assume,' said Anne.

'Ah, well, I suppose, I'm not sure about that. I have to drop by Parkside after dinner, just to make sure Marilyn is all right. She absolutely insisted. But I do want to come back here to sleep — if I can.'

'Quite,' said Anne.

When I arrived at Marilyn's house again Roger was pacing up and down outside, obviously waiting to talk to me before I went in. I parked as discreedy as possible and he came across, knocking his pipe out on his shoe.

'Miss Monroe is quite upset. She's with Paula at the moment. I'd leave them to it and wait, if I was you.'

'For heaven's sake, what's the matter now?' Colin, the twenty-four-hour cure! 'She was super today. Olivier was happy, she looked happy. It was as if the sun had come out.'

'You didn't think they'd let you take her over, did you?'

'I don't want to take her over. She's not a company. She's a person. I just want to help.'

'I think you'll find she is a company. Marilyn Monroe Productions. That's who pays my wages, anyway. And Milton Greene was here for an hour, too. He's plotting something, that's for sure. But I don't think he'll tell Mr Miller. I think he sees Mr Miller as a bigger threat than you.'

'So he jolly well should. Mr Miller is her husband. I'm nothing more than a passing fancy. Everybody in the movie industry fusses too much about what is happening that actual minute. Nobody takes the long view. It's a wonder any film ever gets finished at all.'

'It'll certainly be a miracle if we ever finish this one.'

Roger and I went into the kitchen to wait. Poor girl, I thought. I bet Paula is confusing her all over again. But then, I suppose that if she didn't, she'd be out of a job, just like the rest of them.

It was nearly dark by the time Paula appeared.

'Hello, Colin. You'd better go up. But don't stay too long. She's very tired, and she's not feeling too well.'

When I got up to the bedroom, Marilyn was lying down in the half darkness, looking very fragile indeed.

'Oh, Colin. I'm feeling so bad.'

'What has upset you now?'

'Paula told me that Sir Laurence yelled at her that I couldn't act, and never would be a real actress. And in front of the crew. The whole film crew.'

'Today? Olivier did that today? But I was there all the time.'

I was totally incredulous. I couldn't believe Olivier would do such a thing, especially today.

'No, I guess it wasn't today,' admitted Marilyn. 'Maybe yesterday.'

Oh, that Paula really was a witch. What an unkind thing to say!

'Well, I don't believe it, Marilyn. Maybe Olivier lost his temper and Paula got it wrong.'

'You think I can act, don't you, Colin?'

I sat down heavily on the side of the bed. Here we go again. How insecure can one person be?

'No, I don't think you can act! Not in the sense Olivier means.

And thank God you can't. I'm fed up with Olivier implying that there is only one way to act — and that's his way, of course. Olivier can give great performances, but most of the time he's doing nothing more than dazzling impersonations, brilliant caricatures. He's a great stage actor. He can reach out across the footlights and hypnotise an audience into believing anything he wants. He loves to use tricks, false noses and funny wigs. He knows his craft backwards, and he carefully plans how to shock, and to seduce, and to beguile. But as soon as he has to be an ordinary person, he's dreadful. It's as if he needs some special exaggeration — a dagger, a hunchback, a false eye — in order to exist. Without them, he looks awkward and self-conscious. In his early films he was embarrassing.'

'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.

'Oh, how lovely! Of course I know Ninette. I admire her enormously. What a coincidence. Do give her my love. Tell her from one of the Clark twins.'

'I will. And what are you doing here, Mr Clark, if I may ask, in Miss Monroe's house at two o'clock in the morning?'

'I'm working on the film Miss Monroe is making at Pinewood Studios, and I'm, er, a friend of Miss Monroe's as well.'

'And Miss Monroe's husband? I presume she has a husband?'

'He's in America. I think.'

'Oh, really? And how long has he been gone?'

'Oh, a week. Six days, to be exact. And the baby, doctor?'

Milton looked completely stunned.

'Oh, you know about that, do you? Well, it's true. Miss Monroe was about three weeks pregnant, I would say. Not now, of course. But she can always try again. It isn't the end of the world. I must be off. Goodnight, gentlemen.'

And he climbed into his car and drove away.

'I'd better be going too,' I said.

'Yes, Colin, you had. I told you it would end in tears.'

'My conscience is clear, Milton.' I said. 'No tears from me. I'm sad for Marilyn, of course, although I find it hard to think of her as a mum.'

'Perhaps, Colin . . .'

'I'll tell you what, Milton. I'm going to see Marilyn once more, tomorrow. Just once, I promise. After that I'll vanish back into the scenery. OK, Milton? Goodnight.'

The fairy story had ended, as dramatically as it had begun.

Wednesday, 19 September

'Marilyn, darling, the time has come to say goodbye.'

As I drove over to Parkside House the next day I knew exactly what I had to say. Somehow I had an image of Marilyn, reclining on a garden bench in the shade of a beech tree, wrapped in her white towelling robe. I would walk across the lawn towards her. She would be very pale, lying there with her eyes closed, very quiet but not asleep.

'Marilyn, darling ...' I rehearsed it again. One thing was certain: she must wipe our friendship from her mind completely. I had telephoned Milton from the studio at eight a.m., and he had told me that Arthur Miller was returning that very afternoon, five days earlier than planned. He had heard of last night's happenings from Hedda, I suppose, and while I did not think she would have mentioned me, there was a very real danger that Marilyn might, just to make him jealous. Added to this, she could sometimes be mischievous. 'I kissed Colin,' she had said to Milton, 'just to tease him,' and she had thought it highly amusing, although Milton — and I — had not. Milton had warned me that if Marilyn ever became dependent on anyone, she tended to add them to her retinue without too much thought of the consequences. She thought nothing of having two psychoanalysts, two dramatic coaches, or two Hollywood agents at the same time. She had sometimes had two lovers simultaneously in the past, as Milton himself could testify. It wasn't that she was duplicitous or cunning. It was simply that she really didn't think it was important.

She seemed incapable of comprehending the effect she had on those who surrounded her, and how much she meant to them; this even applied to her husbands, I suspect.

I had made sure that I was at the studios earlier than usual, and that I was waiting outside the dressing rooms when Olivier arrived.

'Morning, boy.' Olivier's usual greeting. 'Marilyn here yet? Is she going to surprise us again?'

'I'm afraid not, Sir Laurence. She was taken seriously ill in the middle of the night. Well, it looked serious, anyway. A doctor had to be called, and he said she must stay in bed all day.'

'Good gracious. Bed all day? That sounds bad. And what illness did the doctor diagnose?'

'It turns out that it's only a very bad period. But Marilyn was in considerable pain, and she lost a lot of blood.'

I wasn't going to mention the baby. That was something private between Marilyn and Arthur.

'I see. Josh Logan warned me about that possibility. Evidently she always needs a day off once a month. We allowed for that in the schedule. But of course we've used up all that time by now. Whatever next?'

'Milton tells me that Arthur is returning from New York this afternoon. I'm sure that will help. Marilyn told me she's going to work especially hard every day from now on, like she did yesterday, and I think she's serious. Her relationship with Arthur was a bit frantic when they first arrived, and his departure gave her a terrible shock. I think she'll concentrate on her career for a while now. At least until this film is finished.'

'I hope you're right, Colin.'

'And it's time I got out of the equation, Larry. So with your permission I'll go over to Parkside this morning and make that clear. Not that there has been anything improper between Marilyn and me, but I wouldn't want Arthur to misunderstand.'

'No, quite so. You run along. Try to find out if she'll be in tomorrow. Please assure her that we all want to finish this film as soon as possible. Personally I wish I'd never set eyes on the woman, but don't tell her that.'

What a pity it is that Olivier never let himself get to know Marilyn properly, I thought, as I drove to Parkside House. This could have been a great film, and a wonderful experience for all of us.

Marilyn was awake, Roger told me when I arrived, and the house was full of people as usual. She was in the bedroom — so much for my shaded lawn — and I did not have the courage to go in unannounced. It was nearly an hour before Paula took pity on me, and called me upstairs.

'Marilyn, it's Colin. Do you want to see him?'

That was bad. I hadn't needed an introduction yesterday.

'Sure. Oh, hi, Colin. Come on in. Now, don't say you've come to say goodbye.'

How did she read my mind so accurately? You could never tell with Marilyn.

'You're not going anywhere, are you? I've decided I want to finish the film as quickly as possible. Why, it was you who told me I must do that. And Paula is going back to the States soon to get a new permit or something, so I'll need you to hold my hand as well as Sir Laurence.'

'I'm sorry, Marilyn,' I said, taking no notice of Paula, who had sat down beside me, 'but I don't think you should even catch my eye after today, let alone hold my hand. Mr Miller is coming back this afternoon, and it's so important that he doesn't find out that we're friends, or have been friends over this past week. We both know that we did nothing wrong. We know that we just had fun and enjoyed each other's company. But Mr Miller might find that very hard to understand. He might think that while the cat was away, the mice were behaving like rats.'

Marilyn gave a weak laugh.

'I guess you're right, Colin. He never seemed to mind about that sort of thing in the old days, but he's much more intense now.'

'Marilyn, darling, you are his wife now. And I don't care what you say about the note you read on his desk — he worships you. Just as I do.'

Marilyn sighed.

'The trouble is that you never can believe how wonderful you are,' I said. I suppose it's because of your childhood. You assume that everything nice is going to be taken away from you in the end, so you're frightened to get your hopes up.'

'I adore Arthur, too,' said Marilyn in a whisper. 'I really do. He's so strong, and so wise. And he's a gentleman. He always treated me like a lady. I wanted to marry him from when I first saw him in Hollywood, all those years ago . . .' She paused.

'I think you're made for each other,' I lied. 'You need someone who takes you seriously. Who sees what a great person you are. No ordinary man could do that.'

Marilyn looked relieved. 'Gee, Colin. You make me feel better right away.'

'You are great, Marilyn. And you are going to have a great career, and a great life. Mind you, after this production is over you must be more careful which films you decide to make. Maybe you should take Mr Strasberg's advice. Not about your day-to-day routine, but about scripts. He knows a lot about scripts.'

Paula beamed, suddenly my ally for life. She got up and went to the door. 'I'll leave you with Colin now,' she said.

"When this picture is over,' Marilyn went on, 'I'm going to settle down and be a good wife to Arthur. I'm going to learn to make matzo-ball soup just as good as his dad's. I'm not going to make any other movies until I've shown Arthur I can look after him. He'll never want to leave me again, that's for sure.'

'So you see why it's so important that he shouldn't suspect that there was anything between us?'

'Nothing serious. He wouldn't think that, would he? That would be terrible.'

'Well, he might. So you must be very careful. You must say nothing at all.'

'Nothing?'

'Nothing. Just imagine what his reaction would be if he thought that I'd done something which had resulted in you losing his baby.'

Marilyn gasped.

'I'm sorry to be so blunt, Marilyn, and we both know that I didn't do any such thing. But just imagine. What would he say? What might he do? I know what would happen if our parts were reversed and you were my wife.'

Marilyn opened her eyes wide.

'I'd kill him.'

'Oh, Colin.' Marilyn began to sob quietly. I love Arthur so much. How can I show him? How can I convince him? Do you think I can ever give him a child? Do you think he wants a child? We've never discussed it. I know he'd be a wonderful father. Why, he's like a father to me. I'll never lose him. I'll make it all up to him. I'll never disappoint him again.'

'Of course you won't, Marilyn. And I don't think you ever have. He's frightened now, just as you are. You are both artists, great artists. Did you think it was going to be easy? Great artists need other artists in their lives. It takes one to understand one. But they will always clash — every now and then. A great writer like Mr Miller needs to be selfish in order to create his masterpiece. And so do you. Sure, an actor like Olivier can just walk out on the stage and play a part. But when you give a great performance, you actually become the person; you feel their joy and feel their pain. That is an incredible strain, but that is what makes you a star.'

'Ooh, Colin.'

Marilyn was beginning to cheer up. 'So what must I do now?'

'Give Arthur a great welcome home. No sex for a bit, though. Tell him how much you missed him. Tell him you've decided to settle down and finish the film as quickly as possible. Tell him that you won't bother him when he is writing — Milton said he had some deadline now. Ask him to come and pick you up at the studio each evening when Paula is away. Whenever Paula is here, don't let her stay with you past seven in the evening. All good, simple rules, Marilyn, and not too hard to obey'

'Yes, sir,' said Marilyn, giving a little salute. Anything else?'

'Yes. Never look at me, not so much as a glance. You may be a great actress, but I'm not, and my face could easily betray what I feel.'

'What do you feel, Colin? Tell me.'

'I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to spend a few days in the company of the most wonderful, brave and beautiful person in the world, but. . .'

'"But"?'

'But if Arthur ever mentions my name, you've got to shrug and say, "Colin? Oh, he's just a messenger, nobody of any importance at all."'

'Oh, Colin. I couldn't say that. But I understand about Arthur.'

Marilyn stared gloomily at the quilt. Then suddenly she brightened up.

'I'll tell you what — I'll wink. No one can stop me winking at you, and you've got to wink back. When things get tough at the studio, when Sir Laurence gets mad, I'm gonna look for Colin, and wink. And you'd better watch out. Paula is going back to New York soon, so I may wink quite a lot.'

It was such a brave, childlike solution to a potentially tragic situation that I lifted Marilyn's hand up off the bed and kissed it.

'I'll wink back' I said. 'Never fear.'

Postscript

And so it was over. A brief flirtation between a young man of twenty-three and a beautiful married woman, who was as innocent as she was mature.

No one really seemed any the worse. Marilyn had lost the baby, of course, but I am not sure that was such a bad thing. I simply could not imagine her as a mother. There had been nobody to look after her as a child, and consequently she had no idea how to look after anyone else. Each time she had got married she had tried desperately hard to take care of her husband, but she always made a total mess of it, and they ended up looking after her. She was, I am afraid to say, just too self-obsessed.

Marilyn always said that she had an ugly side to her character, but if she had, I can honestly say that I never saw it. Confused, frightened and totally lacking in self-confidence, she had not got that sense of her own identity which is so essential for a stable life. Like many celebrities she felt that she couldn't cope with the demands that were thrust on her, and this made her quick to suspect the motives of people whom she had allowed to get too close. Luckily I never fell into that category, so we could remain chums.

Marilyn's idea that she had a dark side helped her to explain why everyone seemed to desert her in the end. She never knew whom she could trust, and this was because the answer was probably: 'No one, no one in the whole world' — all through her life.

One reason she failed to take people with her was that she had no idea of where she was going herself. Nevertheless, she got there. No one can dispute that, and, basically, she did it on her own.

Imagine how many blonde starlets were being abused by those horrible Hollywood moguls night after night — and still are, for all I know. They all faded away, but Marilyn did not. Nearly forty years after her death she is still the most famous film star in the world.

After our adventure, the filming went on as usual on the set of The Prince and the Showgirl at Pinewood. Marilyn became a little more punctual and, compared to her behaviour on her subsequent films, she was very professional. All the dubbing and post-sync' work, for instance, was completed in a couple of days, far quicker than anyone had imagined possible. Marilyn seemed to have resigned herself to finishing the movie first, and being the perfect wife to Arthur Miller later, although she never ceased to gaze at him with awe and to obey his slightest command.

She did sometimes wink at me in the studio, especially when it seemed that Laurence Olivier was about to explode. Because it could ease the tension, Olivier did not mind. Indeed, after filming had finished he took me with him into the theatre as his personal assistant. Two years later I was winking to his wife, Vivien Leigh, who had become just as unstable as Marilyn ever was, from the wings of the Bufgtheater in Vienna. Perhaps I was born to wink.

After Marilyn went back to America, I never spoke to her again — but I did hear from her once, or at least I like to think so. In early 1961, a friend of mine in Olivier's office rang me in New York to say that Marilyn Monroe had telephoned the night before and left a number for me to call. He had not spoken to her himself, he said. He had just found a note on his desk. Of course, it could have been someone playing a joke. I was well known for supporting Marilyn, although this was increasingly hard to do as she became more and more unstable. The rest of Olivier's circle, including Olivier himself, actually welcomed reports of her deteriorating condition as evidence that their opinion of her had been right all along. It was only towards the end of his life that Olivier was able to relent.

When I got the message, I must admit that I hesitated. Apart from the possibility that it was a hoax, I was not sure that I could handle a distraught Marilyn on the line. She was famous for making long, rambling calls, and I knew that I would not be able to help her. 

In the end, I did dial the number, and I could hear it ringing away in the Californian night. But no one replied, and I am ashamed to say that I was relieved. It was not that I had abandoned her, certainly not in my heart. It was just that by now nobody could help her.

Poor Marilyn. Time had run out.

....................

NOW  YOU  KNOW  THE  "REST  OF  THE  STORY"  AS  PAUL  HARVEY  WOULD  HAVE  SAID  ON  HIS  FAMOUS  STORY  TELLING  RADIO  SHOW.  THE  MOVIE  "MY  WEEK  WITH  MARILYN"  WAS  ONLY  50  PER CENT  AS  GOOD  AS  IT  COULD  HAVE  BEEN.  MUCH  GOT  MISSED  OUT;  MUCH  GOT  ONLY  PART  OF  THE  TRUTH  OF  MANY  SCENES;  SOME  SCENES  WERE  ADDED  TO  OR  WERE  OBVIOUSLY  TWISTED  AROUND;  SOME  MISSED IMPORTANT  WORDS  AND  TRUE  DIALOG,  AS  YOU'VE  READ  HERE  IN  COLIN'S  OWN  WORDS.  I  FIND  IT  VERY  DISAPPOINTING  THAT  THE  MOVIE  WAS  MADE  THE  WAY  IT  WAS  MADE,  WHEN  YOU  HAVE  COLIN'S OWN  ACCOUNT  OF  ALL  OF  IT.  MARILYN  ONLY  KISSED  COLIN  ONCE,  AND  NOT  LIKE  THE  MANY  TIMES  AS  THE  MOVIE  SHOWED.  THE  SWIMMING  SCENE.....AS  COLIN  SAID  THEY  CHOSE  SEPARATE  BUSHES  TO  UNDRESS  BEHIND,  AND  MARILYN  WAS  ALREADY  IN  THE  WATER  BY  THE  TIME  HE  GOT  HIS  SWIMMING  SHORTS  ON.  THE  "SPOONING"  SCENE  IN  THE  BEDROOM  WAS  ALL  TWISTED  BACKWARDS  IN  THE  MOVIE.  NEARLY  ALL  OF  THE  INSPIRING  DIALOG  COLIN  GAVE  TO  MARILYN  WAS  NOT  IN  THE  MOVIE.  HOW  THEY  HAD  TO  PART  THEIR  FRIENDSHIP   

WAS  BACKWARDS  IN  THE  MOVIE,  IT  WAS  COLIN  WHO  WENT  TO  MARILYN  AND  SAID  IT  HAD  TO  END,  AS  YOU'VE  JUST  READ.  I  DO  NOT  THINK  THE  MOVIE  CAME  TO  MANY  IF  ANY  MOVIE  THEATERS,  AND  I'M  GLAD  IT  DID  NOT,  AS  THE  TRUTH  OF  IT  ALL,  WAS  NOT  SHOWN  AS  IT  ALL  REALLY  WAS  AND  AS  IT  ALL  REALLY  HAPPENED. ONCE  MORE  THEY  HAD  TO  MAKE  MARILYN  INTO  A  SEX  GODESS EVEN  WITH  COLIN  FOR  HIS  WEEK  WITH  HER. THE  LAST  SCENE  WHERE  SHE  AGAIN  KISSES  COLIN  AND.....THANKS  HIM  FOR  BEING  ON  HER  SIDE......IT  NEVER  HAPPENED......BUT  SO  IT  WAS  THEY  COULD  NOT  RESIST  A  KINDA  SEXY  THANK  YOU  SCENE  TO  
END  THE  MOVIE.

AND  OH  YES,  THE  MOVIE  "THE  PRINCE  AND  THE  SHOWGIRL"  -  NO  MATTER  THE  PAIN  IT  TOOK  TO  DO  IT,  IN  THE  END  MARILYN  STEALS  EVERY  SCENE SHE  IS  IN.  HER  ACTING  WAS  GREAT  AND  HER  BEAUTY  PHYSICALLY  DIVINE.  THE  SCENE  IN  THE  ABBEY  WITH  TEARS  RUNNING  DOWN  HER  CHEEKS,  PORTRAYS  HER  BEAUTY.  SHE  WAS  INVITED  ONCE  TO  SIT  NEXT  TO  OLD  WISTON  CHURCHILL  AT  A  DINNER;  HE  WOULD  LOOK  AT  HER  NOW  AND  AGAIN  AND  SAY  "YOU  ARE  SO  BEAUTIFUL."  

IT  WAS  A  SHAME SHE  NEVER  FOUND  A  COLIN  IN   HER  LIFE,  MAYBE  SHE  WOULD  HAVE  LIVED  TO  OLD  AGE  AND  BEEN  SUPER  HAPPY.

OF  ALL THE  OLD  FEMALE  ACTORS  I  CAN  THINK  OF  ONLY  TWO  OTHERS  THAT  RADIATED  THE  KIND  OF  BEAUTY  LIKE  MARILYN......WHEN  YOUNG,  THE  WELSH  GAL  GLYNIS  JOHNS  AND  DALE  EVANS.
  

Keith Hunt