Travels Through An Imaginary Landscape

Everingham & Redgrave (Deceased), Part Four

EPISODE ONE: EVERINGHAM & REDGRAVE (DECEASED)

PART FOUR

          We followed the road up towards the school and soon came across a sign directing all visitors to report to reception. A little further along another sign indicated that we should find reception through a small entrance at the side of the school. Walking through the doorway as directed, we were confronted by a large alcove blocked off by an impressive mahogany reception desk. The desk was manned by a middle-aged woman with a severe hairstyle that seemed to sit rather oddly atop a very round, pink face and a fussy blouse. She immediately fixed us with a firm gaze that seemed to say that we had about sixty seconds to prove our credentials before she would have us run out of the building. “Can I help?” she asked in a voice that seemed to suggest the only possible answer would be in the negative.

          Michael fastened on a quite dazzling smile. “Hello, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt you,” he said smoothly, “but we were wondering whether it might be possible for us to have a quick look around your fine school.”

          “Do you have an appointment?” barked the receptionist. Before either of us could answer a phone rang behind the desk. Obviously concluding that whoever might be on the other end of the line was bound to be more important than us, she muttered a sharp, “Excuse me,” and turned away to answer it.

          “You can be as charming as you like,” I hissed to Michael whilst her attention was otherwise engaged. “She’s never going to let you in.”

          “They’re always open to old boys,” Michael hissed back defiantly. “I don’t have to tell them exactly when I was here, do I? I’ll just make up a false name.”

          “And supposing she wants to look you up in the school register? Or what if she asks you for the names of some of your teachers or your school-friends?”

          “Ah…”

          Abruptly finishing her conversation and replacing the receiver the receptionist looked back up at us suspiciously, betraying an intense disappointment at the discovery that we were still there. “Do you have an appointment?” she repeated firmly.

          “Ah, no, I’m afraid we don’t,” conceded Michael. “It’s just…”

          I have really no idea what possessed me but as Michael tailed off awkwardly something compelled me to jump in. “It’s just we’re doing a spot of research on one of your famous old boys – Michael Redgrave,” I piped up. “It’s actually for a film we’re working on. We happened to be in the area and we thought it would be really useful to get a look at the place where he spent his schooldays.”

          “His very happy schooldays,” Michael threw in hopefully.

          An interesting struggle began to play itself out on the face of the receptionist before us, suggesting we may have accidentally hit on just the right note. She considered us closely. “A film you say?”

          “Yes, we’re busy writing the script right now,” I said. “And background detail is very important.”

          Still she hesitated. “It’s just… there are channels through which a request like this would normally be made.”

          “And go through them we will,” insisted Michael. “But if you could just bend the rules for us just this once it would be an enormous help.”

          “Absolutely,” I agreed as heartily as I could. “An enormous help.”

          The receptionist was clearly intrigued by our story but there was still a residual layer of suspicion that had yet to be shifted. “What made you want to write a film about Michael Redgrave?” she asked carefully.