Chapter Sixty #2
‘Because,’ said Miss Fassett, taking her time, lighting yet another cigarette and drawing heavily, ‘and this is why I wanted to meet with you today – because, with one or two exceptions, no-one is taking that film seriously. They understand it’s just one problematic effort to interpret the source material.
Which means it’s not seen as a real threat.
On the contrary, the studios are far more interested in purchasing the rights to the original, the rights you hold, and creating something entirely new from scratch.
Something better.’ She paused, waiting for me to say something.
My eyes narrowed as I churned her words over. Then, it clicked. ‘Studios? Are you telling me there’s been an expression of interest, Miss Fassett? More than one?’
‘There’s always been interested parties, Mrs Stoker.’ She flicked her ash. ‘The trick, and what a good agent does, is choose the right party to go to.’
There had been inquiries over the last two years.
Thank God I hadn’t listened to Mr Bang and signed away my rights.
Last year, Columbia Pictures tried to acquire them.
On Miss Fassett’s advice, I’d asked for thirty-five thousand pounds, but they said it was too much.
Then the stock market crashed. Everyone was cautious after that, none more so than the Americans.
There was talk of a worldwide recession, but in the immediate months after those ominous days in late October, that didn’t happen.
I began to wonder if a deal was even worth pursuing.
Miss Fassett had urged me to stay the course, advising me to decline another offer that came during all this for a fraction of what I’d first asked.
‘We can do better,’ she’d said. ‘Despite all the wrangling, the legal problems caused by Nosferatu. We can do better. Trust me, Mrs Stoker.’
Aware Miss Fassett was watching me closely as Noel shifted his gaze between the two of us, I swallowed my impatience.
‘It so happens that the son of the founder of Universal Pictures,’ said Miss Fassett slowly, ‘Mr Carl Laemmle Jr, has made you what I consider to be a very reasonable offer.’ She paused and I sensed that behind those grubby lenses, her eyes were sparkling.
‘How reasonable?’ I asked when she didn’t immediately answer. ‘I know you said we can never expect to get what I once asked – the thirty-five thousand – again. So, what are they offering?’ Figures danced in my head, teasing me. Four thousand? Five thousand?
‘You’re quite right. Times have changed. The initial figure we asked for is no longer feasible.’
My heart shrank just a little. ‘Miss Fassett,’ I inhaled, unable to hold my irritation in check any longer. ‘Dorothea, are you going to tell me or keep —’
‘It’s for forty thousand dollars.’
Noel let out an expletive.
There was a roaring in my ears, my heart became a mallet slamming against my ribs.
Forty thousand dollars.
‘Did you hear me, Mrs Stoker?’ asked Miss Fassett when I didn’t react.
The figure was going around in my head. She was saying something about Mr Deane and Mr Balderston retaining a percentage since the film would be based on their various adaptations of the book.
Even after splitting the money with them, even after Miss Fassett took her commission, there was a staggering sum remaining.
Forty thousand dollars. Never in my wildest, most fanciful dreams had I ever conceived of such an amount.
At the ripe old age of seventy-two, I’d never have to worry about money again.
Noel was squeezing my hand so tightly it began to throb. I tried to extract it. ‘Did you hear, Mother?’ he asked, eyes shining.
In answer, I freed myself from his grip, rose, walked around the desk and urged Miss Fassett to her feet. As smoke swirled around us, I folded her into my arms.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered over the top of her head. Up close, she smelt of musk and roses, albeit with a heavy patina of tobacco.
She stood on tiptoes and kissed me soundly on the cheek. ‘You’re very welcome, Mrs Florence Anne Lemon Bram Stoker.’ She held me at arm’s length. ‘Didn’t I tell you we could do better?’
‘You did,’ I said as Noel joined me and shook Miss Fassett’s hand. As we resumed our seats, he nursed his fingers, which were very red.
‘There is one small matter we have to take care of first.’ Miss Fassett patted her hair into place and butted out her cigarette. ‘Two to be exact.’
My daydreams dissolved and I was brought back to earth. Of course, nothing was ever straightforward with Dracula.
‘Mr Liveright is demanding compensation for being shut out of negotiations. He feels that any film adaptation constitutes unfair competition to his stage version.’
I scoffed. ‘He’s made millions from it – literally. It’s hardly my fault if the man has squandered it.’
‘Indeed,’ said Miss Fassett. ‘But unless we rid ourselves of him, he will continue to be an annoyance. He will accept five thousand five hundred dollars. I’ve managed to negotiate a deal whereby you, Mr Balderston and Mr Deane pay him one thousand pounds between you.
The remaining four thousand five hundred dollars will be met by Universal Studios.
In return, he’ll waive all rights to the film. ’
I absorbed this slowly. A few hundred dollars to be rid of Mr Liveright was a small price to pay.
‘What’s the second thing?’ asked Noel.
‘I’m delighted to be able to tell you that Universal have also purchased what they claim is the only remaining print of Nosferatu. After some tough negotiations, they bought it for four hundred dollars. It’s been handed over. My understanding is they intend to destroy it.’
I looked at Noel, who sat smiling benevolently at me, then at Miss Fassett, who smoked contentedly, inordinately pleased with herself, then towards the window and the stream of grey light beaming in.
‘Destroy it?’ I began to laugh. It came from some place deep inside me and once it escaped, I couldn’t control it.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Miss Fassett, regarding me with an arch of a thinly plucked brow.
Noel gave a nervous chuckle. Miss Fassett put down her cigarette and put her hands on her desk, smiling at me cautiously.
Tears streamed down my face. ‘Destroy it?’ I repeated. I shook my head, bowing over slightly as laughter almost consumed me.
‘Mother,’ said Noel, his tone becoming stern.
I reached for him and rested a hand on his forearm.
Slowly, the laughter eased. I wiped my eyes.
‘My apologies, Miss Fassett. But the hubris of Universal is as absurd as it is breathtaking. They can’t destroy it.
No-one can. Not now, not ever.’ Their astonished faces were almost comical.
‘No-one knows better than a Stoker, you can’t kill Dracula. ’
‘We don’t want them to kill Dracula,’ said Miss Fassett. ‘But Nosferatu is finished. Just as you wished.’
‘Don’t you understand?’ I looked from Noel’s disturbed face to Miss Fassett’s puzzled one.
‘Because of this deal Nosferatu will never die. Universal has ensured that not only will Dracula continue to live, travelling across continents and countries, infecting minds and hearts, terrorising and, I hope, delighting, but vampires will be given life too. The studio won’t destroy Nosferatu.
They’ll seal him in a coffin to be resurrected again when the time is right. You’ll see.’
‘A canister. They’ll seal him in a canister.’ Miss Fassett huffed approvingly. ‘You might well be right, Mrs Stoker.’
‘I am,’ I said. ‘And one day, in the not-too-distant future, Nosferatu will rise unbidden and take its place in moving picture history. But not before Dracula, Bram’s vampire, conquers the world first.’
‘I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?’ said Miss Fassett and, without waiting for an answer, signalled to Laurence, who had clearly been awaiting her order. He swooped into the office carrying a tray with a bottle of fine French champagne and glasses upon it.
The cork popped with all the aplomb of a costly fizzy drink and, once we all had a glass, we stood.