Read Silverbridge for Free Online

your brother, Lord Silverbridge I mean, think about having the movie here?” Tracy asked.
    Meg said offhandedly, “Oh, Harry was happy to have the money. And he was very pleased with what the film company did with the gardens.”
    Two small birds arose from among the shrubs that bordered the walk to their left, and Tracy watched them fly off over the lawn. “What did the film company do to the gardens?”
    “Cleaned them up. The yews needed cutting, the paths needed a lot of work, and half of the fountain jets didn’t work. You also planted all of those marvelous tulips in the front of the house.”
    Tracy looked around the lovely property. “I guess the upkeep on a place like this is enormous.”
    “It’s ridiculous,” Meg replied. “It’s a listed house, of course, which means that it’s under the jurisdiction of English Heritage. So all repairs have to be done with their approval, which sends the cost rocketing.”
    “Why is that?” Tracy asked.
    Meg shrugged her blade-thin shoulders. “Because Harry can’t substitute less expensive, mode rn materials in the publicly visible portions of the house. For example, we need a new roof, but Harry can’t use mode rn tiles. Instead he has to replace the old slate roof as well as the layer of lead and boards underneath. And the gutters have to be iron, not plastic. The whole job will cost poor Harry five times more than it would cost to reroof with modern materials.”
    Tracy looked at the expanse of the present roof. “Whew. That doesn’t seem fair.”
    “Between the rules for upkeep and the death taxes, Harry says the government is out to destroy the whole upper class,” Meg said darkly.
    Tracy considered this statement, added it to the information she had received from Jon about Lord Silverbridge’s callous treatment of the model he had broken up with, and came to the conclusion that the owner of Silverbridge was not a very nice man.
    When they arrived at the camper that served as Tracy’s dressing room, she invited Meg in to wait for her while she changed out of her costume. Inside, the camper was furnished with a dressing table and mirror, a green corduroy sofa where Tracy could take a nap, and two chairs. It was a utilitarian room, nothing like the luxurious surroundings that Tracy was accustomed to, but then she did not usually work on films with such a tight budget.
    When they came in, Gail was sitting on the sofa, tapping away on her laptop. Tracy introduced the two young women, then sat at her dressing table to take off her makeup.
    She listened to the two girls talking behind her and compared their backgrounds. Gail had been bo rn in Puerto Rico and brought to New York when she was two. Her parents had struggled to put her through Catholic schools, and after high school she had taken a secretarial course at Katharine Gibbs. She had been working at NBC when Tracy met her and offered her a job. She was smart, funny, extremely competent, and intensely loyal. Tracy considered her a friend.
    Meg had been brought up in the palatial surroundings of Silverbridge, yet it was Gail, the kid from Spanish Harlem, who had self-confidence.
    “What a great job you have,” Meg was saying. “How does one go about getting a job like yours?”
    “I did a secretarial course after high school, Lady Margaret,” Gail replied with cool politeness.
    “A secretarial course? But that sounds like such a bore.”
    “It is necessary to acquire certain skills in order to find a job like this, Lady Margaret.” Gail’s voice sounded even cooler than before.
    Tracy actually felt a pang of pity for Meg and swung around on her chair. “Have you finished high school, Meg?”
    Meg began to pick at her sweater. “We don’t call it high school here. And I still have a year to go. I’ll probably go back in the autumn.”
    “So you’re not going to school now?” Gail asked.
    Meg stood up. “Enough about bloody school! Are you sure you want me to go with you to dinner, Tracy?