Act of Will (40 page)

Being an open, outgoing and friendly young woman, Christina was also popular with her contemporaries and within her first couple of weeks at college she quickly made a number of friends of both sexes. But the one she gravitated to the most, and who was her special favourite, was a girl of her own age called Jane Sedgewick.

Jane was ebullient, good-natured and full of fun. Pretty and dashing, with flaxen hair and eyes the colour of pansies, she was one of the most engaging girls Christina had ever met.

They were painting together in one of the big studios on a particular afternoon in September when she completely endeared herself to Christina.

Unexpectedly, Jane began to camp it up. Adopting the stance of a tragedienne, she cried dramatically, in a voice of mock despair, ‘My work looks like the devil’s brew compared to yours. Alas, alack, woe is me.’ She paused, brought her clenched fist up to her chest and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I have no alternative but to kill myself. But before I put an end to this sweet young life… grant me one last favour.’

‘Of course, what is it?’ Christina asked, playing along with her, laughing at her histrionics.

‘Come and have coffee with me after class.’

Still laughing, Christina accepted the invitation. A little later they wandered off down by the side of the Victoria and Albert Museum, chatting animatedly on their way to a coffee shop nearby. And neither girl knew that this was the beginning of an extraordinary friendship, one which was to last all of their lives.

Over several cups of
espresso
they learned more about each other. After Christina had told Jane something about herself it was her turn to listen and she did so attentively. She was startled to discover that Jane was the eldest daughter of Dulcie Manville and Ralph Sedgewick, a husband-and-wife acting team equally as famous as the Oliviers, in their own way. And then she thought: but that explains her theatricality.

The Sedgewicks had appeared in countless films made by Gainsborough Pictures in the forties, and Christina and Audra had seen all of them at the Picturedrome in Armley.

She told Jane, ‘Gosh, my mother will be
thrilled
to hear that I know you. She’s a great fan of your parents, and so am I. In fact, when she was here in August, we went to see them in
Lovers’ Quarrel
at the Haymarket. We laughed our heads off, it was simply marvellous, the best comedy we’ve seen in years.’

‘How would you like to meet the old folks in person?’ Jane asked. ‘Do come and stay with us this weekend. We’d love to have you.’

Christina stared at her in surprise. ‘But are you sure it’s all right? It is a bit last minute, isn’t it? I mean for them. Today’s Thursday, Jane.’

‘Oh that’s no problem, we have a jolly old crazy household. Come on,
do
say yes. We’ll have some fun, and the grounds are pretty, so you can paint if you want to. Mind you, there’s only one problem—’ Jane made a sour face.
‘My siblings, the little monsters, are positively
revolting
, but I suppose we don’t have to bother with them. So, will you come?’

‘Why yes, I will, thank you very much,’ Christina said smiling. ‘It’s a lovely invitation.’

***

Christina and Jane drove down to Kent the following afternoon in Jane’s beaten-up MG sports car painted a vivid yellow.

The Sedgewicks owned an old country house called Hadley Court in the pretty village of Aldington. Not long after they had left the village behind, Jane slowed down and pointed to a beautiful Tudor manor, long and low with leaded windows, set behind large iron gates and just visible from the road.

‘That’s Goldenhurst, Uncle Noël’s house,’ Jane explained. ‘He’s my godfather, and quite a dear. On Sunday morning we’ll be going over to his house for drinks and a slap-up Sunday lunch. It’ll be quite mad, of course, he always has the most scandalous and outrageous people as house guests. But at least we’ll have a giggle and escape the
revolting
monsters for a while.’

Christina gave her a puzzled look. ‘What’s wrong with your brothers and sister?’

‘They’re little beasts. You’ll soon see.’

‘And when do your parents come down to the country?’

‘After the Saturday night performance. They flee the theatre still wearing their makeup and race down here at breakneck speed, arrive at midnight. That’s when you’ll meet them,
if
you can stay awake to have sandwiches and coffee with them at that hour. Oh here we are, Christie.’

Jane swung the MG into a long driveway that twisted and turned up to the house, and Christina fell in love with it the minute she saw it. In a way, the architecture
reminded her of High Cleugh, which her mother had often taken her to see when she was a child. They had had picnics on the slope near The Memory Place and her mother had told her about the house where she had grown up. And later she had gone back to the slope above the River Ure and painted High Cleugh as a gift for Audra.

Hadley Court was a rambling old place with odd-shaped rooms, great fireplaces, flaring windows and lots and lots of character. The grounds were pastoral and romantic-looking, with weeping willows and a lily pond and randomly-planted flowers that gave it an old-world air. Later when Christina strolled around the gardens her fingers itched to put their misty green beauty and the soft southern light of Kent on the canvas she had brought with her.

As Jane had promised her, the weekend was a lot of fun.

But Christina did have a few surprises, and she soon discovered that her new friend had a tendency to exaggerate.

The revolting siblings, as Jane called them, were not revolting at all, nor were they little beasts. Hadley and Lyndon, the eleven-year-old twins, were tow-headed, freckled-faced boys who were cherubic and well behaved. Jane insisted that this was because she had terrified them into toeing the line that weekend, by making all manner of dire threats against them. Their sister, nine-year-old Poppy Louise, was an enchantress with huge pansy-coloured eyes like Jane’s and bright red-gold hair. She captivated Christina with her winning smiles and fanciful child’s chatter.

As for Dulcie and Ralph Sedgewick, they were gracious and charming to her and made her feel like a member of the family immediately. They were not a bit like she had
expected them to be, not at all theatrical or showy. They were both soft spoken, cultivated and witty. Ralph, in particular, was most amusing. Christina quickly decided that it was Jane who had all the flamboyance and theatricality in this family.

Uncle Noël turned out to be Noël Coward, and Christina was rendered speechless when she walked into the living room at Goldenhurst on Sunday and found herself being introduced to Laurence Olivier, and, shortly there-after, to Vivien Leigh.

When she finally managed to get Jane into a corner, Christina whispered, ‘What, do you mean outrageous and scandalous house guests! You might have warned me!’

Jane giggled and rolled her eyes. ‘But it wouldn’t have been any fun if you’d known Larry and Viv were coming.’ Her face sobered, and she took hold of Christina’s arm, stared anxiously into her face. ‘You’re not angry with me, are you? I couldn’t bear it if you were.’

Christina said, ‘No, of course I’m not, Janey,’ and gave her a reassuring smile.

***

After this first weekend, Christina became a regular guest at Hadley Court, and a constant visitor to the Sedgewicks’ flat in Mayfair. Dulcie Manville Sedgewick had taken a great liking to Christina and thought her to be a wonderful influence on her rather scatter-brained daughter.

Being an only child, Christina revelled at being in the midst of the loving and amusing Sedgewick family, and enjoyed meeting the celebrated personalities who populated their parties—show-business folk, writers, journalists and politicians.

Yet this exciting and glittering world, as captivating as it was, did not unduly dazzle Christina, and her feet were
always planted firmly on the ground, her dedication to her art intact.

And as always she was devoted to her parents, most especially Audra. During the next nine months her mother came twice to stay at the little studio flat in Chester Street and Christina often went up to Yorkshire for weekends, and always during the holidays when the college was in recess.

Christina knew that her mother lived for these times when they were together and that she derived enormous vicarious pleasure as she listened to anecdotes about the Sedgewicks and her other friends, the parties and elegant dinners she attended.

Audra’s pride in her daughter knew no bounds. Christina’s record at the Royal College of Art was brilliant, and her popularity and success in social circles was gratifying, another reason for Audra to rejoice. She knew, at last, that she had kept the vow she had made to herself years ago. She had given her daughter a far better life than she herself had known. And she was satisfied that her own life, and everything she had done for Christina, had been justified.

Christina’s first and second years in London were full of numerous challenges and new experiences, and were productive periods for her. Only one thing marred her happiness—the knowledge that her mother was still working.

Although Vincent was a partner in Varley and Crowther and doing quite well, he was still not earning enough to carry
all
of the family’s financial burdens. Audra had continued nursing at the Infirmary essentially to support Christina’s life in London. It was she who paid Christina’s tuition, rent, and gave her an allowance, bought the fabrics for her clothes, and other clothing. Christina was
acutely aware that without these commitments her mother would be able to cease her endless toil and have a much easier life.

And so at the end of her second year at college, Christina cautiously suggested getting a part-time job to help out. Audra was furious, adamant in her refusal even to consider such a thing, believing it would distract Christina and interfere with her studies. But she had not bargained for her daughter’s stubbornness and determination. Christina was as strong-willed as Audra, and she resolutely set out to curtail the flow of money from Leeds to London.

She did not dare get a job, but she did adopt a more frugal way of living; and she cut down on overheads by moving in with Jane. Her best friend had been asking her to share her flat in Walton Street for ages, and since it was owned by Jane’s Aunt Elspeth, who lived in Monte Carlo since her marriage, the rent was nominal. ‘Oh, just give me a pound a week,’ Jane had said when Christina had asked her what her share would be.

Christina also decided she must start making her own clothes. Whilst this step might not save money exactly, it would take the job off her mother’s back. She was egged on by Jane, who knew she had a great flair for designing. In fact, Christina had inherited Audra’s cleverness with scissors and a needle; also, she had stood at her mother’s knee for years, watching her make beautiful garments for themselves as well as for other people, and her technique had brushed off. In no time at all she had revamped some of her old dresses and created a couple of new ones, and she was inordinately pleased with herself.

Audra was not.

However, she finally came to admit that the sewing was not injuring her daughter’s work at the Royal College of
Art. Grudgingly, she agreed that the hand-painted dresses and jackets, and the starkly tailored suits, had elegance and originality.

Christina found time to make a hand-painted blouse for her mother in the autumn of 1953, and she took it with her when she went to Leeds for the winter holidays.

Audra was thrilled when she opened the box on Christmas Day, and immediately exclaimed over its beauty and the wonderful mingling of the blue delphiniums on the paler blue silk.

‘But you shouldn’t have,’ she chastised mildly. ‘All this sewing is taking you away from your studies.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Christina said with a laugh, hugging her. ‘I wanted you to have something beautiful, something that I had painted and made for you, Mummy.’

That particular December was a happy time for the Crowthers. They had a simple family Christmas and in January Christina returned to London to resume her classes at the Royal College of Art.

She launched herself into her final courses with the immense enthusiasm and the extraordinary dedication she had previously shown, knowing that she would be graduating in August. She wanted to do well not only because of her own sense of pride, but for her mother.

Vincent saw Christina before she saw him.

She had alighted from the London train at the far end of the platform and he caught flashes of her as she dodged in and out between the other passengers now hurrying towards the exit turnstile.

How young and lovely she looked in the belted camel coat and the very high-heeled court shoes she always wore. She stepped out briskly, her shoulders thrown back, her head held erect, and there was something very confident about her and this pleased him.

She would be twenty-three next month. He could hardly believe it. Why, it seemed like only yesterday that he had been pushing her around in her pram. She had grown up to be a good girl, with a good head on her shoulders. He trusted her implicitly. When she had first gone to live in London he had worried about her, been concerned about her judgement of situations and people—and particularly men. And then one day he had wondered why he was fretting. They had brought her up properly, she knew the difference between right and wrong. He had stopped worrying that instant. Yes, their daughter was a credit to them.

Suddenly Christina caught sight of him, waved, increased her pace, her face illuminated by the brightest of smiles.

Vincent hurried forward, smiling and waving himself.

They came to a standstill in front of each other.

‘Hello, Daddy,’ she cried, dropping her suitcase.

‘Hello, pet,’ he said, beaming at her, reaching for her.

They embraced, laughing, then stepped away, staring into each other’s faces. It was Good Friday afternoon and they had not met since Christmas; as they usually did after an absence, they took stock of each other.