As the movie plan was in its infancy, there was no great panic. Most of the cast had yet to be selected, and there was an awful lot to do before shooting started.
Most of the shooting was to take place on location across Europe and in Pinewood studios in Buckinghamshire, England. They were hoping to start in the back end of September. I hoped the Danube was warm at that time of year. We shook hands, and were taken back to the hotel.
It was all rather surreal, and by the time the next day’s papers came out, so did the news that Superbabe had been headhunted for a lead part in a new potential blockbuster.
The press were once again interested in me, and the fashion show received added publicity because of this. I was unable to go anywhere without the press asking me silly questions, and I began to regret being so well known.
Returning to the same hotel in Miami was hard, as memories came flooding back. Simon and I used the pool together, and I never went anywhere without him. We were relaxing in the Jacuzzi on the last evening, when I heard a familiar voice.
“Hello girl.”
We turned, and there was my father. I had a lurch in my heart, as part of me was pleased to see him, and another part dreaded his presence and all it meant to me.
“Hello Mr Armitage,” I said.
He was dressed in casual slacks and a polo shirt. His hair was cropped very short and almost all grey. He looked thin and tired, with great dark bags under his eyes. I had never seen him look like this.
“I see you’re going to be a movie star,” he said.
“Perhaps, how have you been?”
He sat on the step. “Not bad. I have a nice house in the middle of nowhere. But I miss you, Sandi.”
“You should have thought of that a long time ago.”
“I know. You two engaged yet?”
I held up my hand and wiggled my ring finger.
“Splendid. You both have my blessing, for what it’s worth.”
“Are you ever going to be able to go home?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. If I leave the States, then I lose the protection. If I appear in Britain, then the old bill will have no qualms about nicking me.”
“But what about what I gave to the police?”
“They didn’t need it in the end. The Yanks shot the bastard.”
“Are you sure? He may be your next door neighbour and calls himself Mr Smith.”
“I saw the body. I was there.”
“Oh.”
“It’s funny, I’d like to go back and change so much.”
“Hilarious. You can’t, Dad.”
“I know. I’d like to see my grandchildren though.”
“Dad. I’m eighteen, and we are not having babies yet. So you will have to wait.”
“Don’t leave it too long,” he said, and I caught a tragic undercurrent.
“Oh, Dad. You haven’t?”
He looked down and nodded.
“What?” I asked.
“Cancer. I’ve had my last lot of chemo, now I am waiting to see if it worked.”
“Where?”
“Lymph glands.”
“Oh shit.” I said, and he laughed.
“You said it, girl.”
“I’m sorry. When did you find out?”
“Three months ago. I went for a routine check up.”
“You should have called.”
“What good would it have done? You were busy with exams, and I have no hold on you.”
“I am still your only daughter.”
Tears came to his eyes, and Simon took my hand.
We got out of the Jacuzzi, and slipped on the towelling robes.
“You have this annoying habit of appearing and fucking up my life, Dad.”
He smiled, but it was a sad smile.
“I know, kid, I’m sorry. But I had to see you.”
I hugged him, and found he was very thin under his clothes.
“Oh Dad, what are we going to do?”
“Not a lot we can do. I’m dead, remember?”
“How long?”
“A year, maybe a little more.”
“And the chemo, what if it works?”
“Once it’s in the lymph glands, it is hard to eradicate. The specialist thinks I may have a year to eighteen months.”
“Fuck!” I said, feeling very depressed.
“Hey, I won’t die in bed.”
“What you going to do, rob a bank?” I teased.
“Not quite. But I have a plan.”
“Oh Dad, no. Not again, please.”
“Look, I hope to give back something. I gave the world the prettiest girl there is, so I can’t be all bad.”
I started to cry. He had never been there for me, except when he killed people, and that was hardly sound parenting.
Simon held me, and said to Dad, “Sir, I think you’d better go.”
He nodded, gently kissing my cheek.
“Goodbye Sandi. Remember I have always loved you, and always will.”
Then he was gone. It was the last time I saw him alive.
We completed the tour and returned home. It really felt like home, and it was lovely to be somewhere familiar after a month of hotels.
I was sent the entire script, and Jemima introduced me to an agent, Richard Scott. I had a meeting with him, and he arranged to scrutinise my contract and sent off my Equity application. The contract was actually straightforward, but I was careful to ensure that Superbabe was my property, and no use could be made of it in the publicity, without my permission, and to my benefit.
On his advice I signed a slightly amended contract, and stood to gain over $1,000,000 before the shooting even started. I was also due a percentage of any profits, which could take me into silly figures.
But, this was irrelevant, as my investments had gained, and money was the least of my problems.
We were watching TV one evening, and a documentary about the third world came on. The sights and sounds of the suffering in different parts of the world drove me to tears, and I decided to do something about it.
The next day, after Simon went to work, I went to see my financial advisor, and I asked about how I could help ease the suffering in the world. He was somewhat bemused by this, as his job was to build the wealth of his clients, not to help to give it away. He told me he would look into it.
I was reading a magazine and it featured a charity called ROPE (Relief for Oppressed People Everywhere) and arranged to covenant a sizeable amount of money to aid the setting up of schools and clinics in Africa. I felt happier knowing that some of Dad’s ill-gotten gains were going to people who really needed it.
Wrapping Up.
I paused in my tale and looked at Lieutenant Collinson who was sitting opposite me.
“Well, the rest you know. I made the movie and it did pretty well, even though the Lord of the Rings came out at the same time. I turned nineteen just before we finished shooting, and so signed up for a fashion designer course, which I am still doing.
“Dad called me a few weeks ago, to tell me that the chemo hadn’t worked, and he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to die in bed. So, what more can I say?”
“Did he mention how he did intend dying?”
“No.”
“So, why did you come to America?”
I looked out of the window, and watched the raindrops racing each other down the pane.
“He asked me to see him one last time. I couldn’t leave at that moment, but I came as soon as I could.”
“Do you know why he wanted to see you?”
I shrugged.
“I think he was a sentimental old sod and just wanted to see me again. But he was a devious bastard, so there may have been an ulterior motive,” I said.
“Sandi, what I am going to tell you know goes no further, and I may be way out of line for telling you in any case. But I guess after what you’ve been through, you deserve the truth.”
“Go on.”
“Your dad was found on the Lower East Side, in a warehouse, lying on the floor with a bullet in his heart. In a back room were six men, all dead; but on the table was over $2,000,000 worth of cocaine and enough boxes of automatic weapons to start a small revolution.