Page 129 of The Extraordinary Florence Stoker

‘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.

‘Wait, wait,’ I said, as Miss Fassett commenced a toast. Putting down my glass, I rummaged in my bag and drew out my old, now very tattered, copy of Dracula. The yellow cloth was quite worn, the red lettering faded. I held the book aloft in one hand and, in the other, raised my glass to it.

‘To you, Florence Stoker,’ began Miss Fassett. ‘The woman who fought for Dracula and won.’

‘And to Bram,’ I said, blinking back a sudden rush of tears. ‘May he live on through his writing as he always dreamed.’

Sometime later, after a second bottle had been opened, we were still discussing what Universal making a film would mean – not just for Bram’s legacy, for my finances and the family’s, but for the pirated film Nosferatu as well. I refused to let go of my conviction that this deal would ensure both versions of Dracula lived on.

‘Doesn’t that bother you, Mother?’ asked Noel, the champagne making his cheeks rosy and his eyes very bright. ‘That Nosferatu might not be destroyed after all but seen by even more people. After everything you’ve been through, all the years of letters, phone calls, lawyers, the meetings, the expense. The cost to your health, reputation, your peace.’

I dismissed his concerns with a flap of a hand. ‘I’ll give you forty thousand good reasons why it’s all been worth it.’

Miss Fassett chuckled. ‘It’s not just about the money. I don’t think you realise the significance of what your mother has done, Mr Stoker. She hasn’t only secured a fine deal with a major studio, it’s what this victory means for others.’

‘Others?’

‘Your mother,’ said Miss Fassett, pointing a long finger with a bright red nail in my direction, ‘fought hard to protect your father’s literary rights, for her damn rights as well. She refused to be fobbed off or ignored; she wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ She paused to draw heavily on her cigarette. ‘Because of your mother, any creative predators who would steal Dracula and try and profit from it, will think twice. But her marvellous victory has far wider ramifications.’ She gave one of her broad smiles.

‘It does?’ Noel frowned. ‘I don’t think I understand —’

‘Because of Florence Stoker, from this day forward, an author’s copyright will be enshrined in every single deal that’s made. Every contract will now include a clause protecting the creator’s rights, whether it be for film, theatre, and maybe even for that new-fangled invention.’

I looked at her blankly.

‘The one the Scotsman, Logie Baird, created.’

‘Television,’ Noel supplied.

‘That’s it,’ said Miss Fassett, snapping her fingers. ‘As far as I’m concerned, every writer, every creator, ought to bow down and kiss your mother’s feet, Mr Stoker. She’s set a precedent, and if I’ve any say in the matter, it’s one that will last beyond Dracula or Nosferatu. You see, in fighting for her rights, Florence Stoker has guaranteed everyone else’s.’

Noel gave a goofy grin. ‘I … I’d no idea.’ He reached for my hand and squeezed. ‘I’m proud of you, Mother.’ My eyes began to fill again. ‘Father would be too.’

I was about to protest, when Miss Fassett pounced. ‘Before we become completely sozzled, Mrs Stoker, let’s get this contract signed, shall we?’ She opened a folder on her desk and removed a sheaf of neatly typed pages. At the top was the logo: Universal Pictures Corporation, Rockefeller Centre, New York.

Bram had always loved New York.