“Make sure you send him over again next time.” by Anonymous Each time I sent a couple over to his hotel room-or wherever he was staying-he would ask for a different girl but, quite often, he would request the same guy. 'The scene was the firstclass dining car of the Brighton Belle on a summer morning in 1964, an era when it was still possible in Britain to travel by train with some degree of civilised elegance. 'The usual, dear boy,' announced the man opposite me to the hovering steward. No one needed to enquire about the identity of my table companion. He was instantly recognisable to everyone as the most celebrated actor in the world: Sir Laurence Olivier, soon to become The Right Honourable Baron Olivier of Brighton. 'I'm very sorry, Sir Laurence,' stammered the steward, 'but I'm afraid the kippers are off today.' 'Off?' The word exploded with such force and menace that the carriage fell silent.

'There are no kippers?' asked the great man, his voice rising histrionically. 'Great heavens! How can this be possible?' His arms rose also, in supplication to invisible gods. Sir Laurence's outburst had immediate effect. The Brighton Belle's departure was delayed while a crisis conference took place on the platform. As if by magic, a crate of kippers materialised from thin air. 'My darling boy!' cried Olivier, pulling the startled steward into a bear-like embrace and planting a loud, smacking kiss on both his cheeks.

The white-coated youth turned slightly pink but showed no other sign of thinking this at all unusual.Īs the 55-minute journey to London got under way, I became uncomfortably aware that Olivier had switched his attention from the steward to myself. Every time I looked up from the morning paper, I found his eyes, dark and hypnotic, trained on my 23-yearold face like a searchlight.

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