Forests of the Night by David Stuart Davies

Author:David Stuart Davies
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

nineteen

I slept little that night wondering how I had managed to mar my relationship with Eve. I just hoped that it was the drink that had confused her a little. I thought we were getting on fine. Certainly I’d had a great night but it takes two to tango.…

I felt fairly miserable as I drank my first cup of tea of the day but then I brightened at the prospect of my excursion for that afternoon. I was off to a dream factory.

Then I had an idea about Eve. So I decided to put my own acting prowess to the test and adopt the persona of a certain Archie McPherson for a certain phone call.

* * *

Denham Studios was some thirty miles out of London. Before the war it had been a thriving film studio owned by Alexander Korda. He had been determined to make it the most modern film studio in Europe but by the late thirties he was in financial difficulties and the money men, in the shape of the Prudential Insurance Company, stepped in and took over. With the outbreak of war, all film production was stopped at nearby Pinewood studios and as a result Denham was swamped with productions. In 1940 it was working around the clock to turn out celluloid fodder to be lapped up by eager audiences desperate to lose themselves in other worlds far away from the reality of war.

The thought of visiting the film studio filled me with excitement. I might be going to interview a suspect in a murder investigation, but he was also Tiger Blake, my childhood film hero. I caught the train to Denham Village with a feeling of suppressed anticipation. I almost forgot the real reason for my journey.

Walking out of the station at Denham I was already conscious that I had left some of the dreariness and destruction of grey London behind. The sky seemed cleaner and the faces of people seemed fresher here. It was as though the shadow of war was not as dark or all-embracing in this semi-rural setting as it was in the damaged metropolis.

I felt a childish thrill as I announced my destination to the ancient cab driver. ‘Denham Film Studios please.’ Within five minutes I had been dropped off at the gates. The place certainly looked like a factory with its grey blocks of buildings and circular drum-like structures. The ghost of Alexander Korda was in evidence in the large faded lettering that ran down the length of one block stating LONDON FILM PRODUCTIONS. It was strange to think that within its walls fairy tales from all ages were created to be projected in cinemas around the world, allowing anyone with a few shillings or the equivalent to enter the magic escapist world of the cinema.

As I approached the entrance, a little man emerged through the swing doors and scuttled down the steps. My mouth dropped open in recognition. It was the comedian Arthur Askey. Obviously used to such reactions, he gave me a grin, touched his hat and hurried on.

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