‘Oh, of course. That’s natural. I’ve learned it’s the same for most of them.’ Shirley waved a hand in the direction of the cast. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘Anyone coming over to the club for a drink?’ Julian said, and everyone said they would.
‘Do you want to join them?’ Shirley asked.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Well, if you do, I’ll take you over; it’s only in the Langham. But first I want you to come with me back to the office. I sneaked a friend in there who bunked off work to listen to the play. Must go and turn the wireless off and tidy up, you know. Then we could all go to the club together.’
‘But why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why did your friend particularly want to listen to the play?’
Shirley made an airy gesture. ‘Oh, you know. My interesting job. What I get up to. That sort of thing.’
Kay followed Shirley along carpeted corridors to Julian’s office. She wondered if Julian knew about Shirley’s friend.
‘Here we are then.’
Shirley opened the door and preceded her into the room. Her friend was standing by the window looking out over the rooftops of London. He turned round slowly. Why had she thought Shirley’s friend would be female?
‘You were wonderful,’ Tom said, and he took her in his arms.
At that moment Kay realised that the only person she wanted to share her triumph with was Tom.
Chapter Sixteen
Then
The play was over. Lana and the leading man remained in each other’s arms as the curtains closed. Then they pulled apart and listened, breath held, to the frightening silence from the auditorium.
Lana looked at Don Bellamy nervously. ‘Have I laid an egg?’ she whispered. ‘Have I ruined things for all of you?’
He shook his head but Lana could see the panic in his eyes. He managed a smile before he whispered, ‘Wait and see.’
All this took mere seconds, but they were the longest seconds in Lana’s life. Don had no sooner squeezed Lana’s hand reassuringly than thunderous applause could be heard from the auditorium.
‘They were simply holding their breath,’ Don said, and laughing softly, he picked Lana up and twirled her round, setting her down again just as the curtains swished open and the other members of the cast came to join them on the stage.
The house lights came up and Lana looked out at the audience with tears in her eyes. Tears of joy.
‘The audience are on their feet,’ Don said. ‘It’s a standing ovation!’
Everyone took a bow and then the curtains closed, but the applause continued and they opened again. Lana lost track of the times this happened, but the shouts of ‘Encore!’ continued until all the other members of the cast had left the stage again and only she and Don were left taking bow after bow.
Finally the stage manager made a decision and the curtains remained closed. The audience groaned good-naturedly, and as the fire curtain was lowered they began to leave the theatre, talking to each other animatedly.
‘Well done, darling,’ Don said. ‘I think we’re headed for the West End.’ He pulled her towards him and kissed her forehead, then he hurried off to join the others backstage.
Lana remained where she was, and just before vanishing into the wings, Don turned and called for her. ‘Come along, Lana, enjoy your triumph.’
‘All right,’ she replied but she was reluctant to move. She stood centre stage and looked around at the set – the drawing room of a comfortable middle-class house. She walked over to the sofa and sat down. Then she sank back and closed her eyes. She felt as though her world was spinning. Tonight she had become part of the legitimate theatre. She had appeared in her first play. Not just appeared, she had taken the female lead. Monty had been sure she could do it and it seemed that he had been proved right. That was, if the audience’s reaction was anything to go by.
The stage lights dimmed and Lana could hear the excited voices of the cast congratulating each other.
I ought to join them
, she thought, but suddenly her limbs could not support her. A strange lethargy overtook her and she let her mind float free as she began to relive certain moments of the play. She heard herself saying her lines, saw herself moving about the stage confidently. She heard the audience laughing when they were supposed to and their gasp of surprise when something unexpected happened.
She was reliving the performance all over again and she didn’t want to leave the magical world that she and the others had created for all too short a time.
Then a voice brought her back to the real world. ‘There you are,’ someone said, and Lana opened her eyes and looked up at the shadowy figure standing over her. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she saw that it was Moira.
‘Thank you for leaving my name with the stage doorkeeper,’ her friend said.
Lana didn’t answer. She just smiled up at her friend beatifically.
‘You were marvellous,’ Moira said. ‘I don’t know why you ever thought you couldn’t do it.’
‘It was because this is my first straight play. No singing, no dancing. Just spoken drama. And I was so inexperienced compared with the others. Totally untested, in fact. And they all knew each other. I thought they resented me at first – they were worried that an unknown beginner would ruin their chances of success. The atmosphere thawed a little once we got into rehearsals, but I was still very much the new girl at school.’
‘And tonight you’ve proved that you have every right to be here. And it’s happened so quickly for you. But you know, when we first met less than two years ago, I knew straight away that not only would you soon be top of the bill, but that you’d leave the variety theatre altogether. You’re perfect for stage drama, and maybe even films. You have such a lovely speaking voice. Lana, my love, you’ll soon be moving in a very different theatrical world than I do.’
Lana reached up and took Moira’s hand. She pulled her down to sit beside her and said, ‘But whatever happens, we’ll still be friends, won’t we? We’ll still be able to confide in each other when nobody else would do?’
‘I hope so,’ Moira said fervently. ‘After all, we’ve had a lot of fun together, haven’t we?’
‘We certainly have. Through happy times and sad times. Times when we could afford to eat in fashionable restaurants and times when we were down to our last tin of spaghetti.’
A voice from the wings shouted, ‘Lana, come and join us! The champagne’s flowing!’
‘You’d better go and mingle with the others,’ Moira said. ‘You don’t want them to think that tonight’s triumph has gone to your head, do you? Why are you sitting here instead of joining the party anyway?’
‘I just wanted to wait until I connected with the real world again.’
‘And have you connected yet?’
Lana laughed as she got to her feet. ‘I’m not sure, but you’re right – I should go and join them. Coming with me?’
Moira’s eyes widened. ‘You bet. And I’d like you to introduce me to Don Bellamy.’
‘Will do. But I’m afraid he’s spoken for. Very happily married to a rich society girl, in fact, and she’s here to keep an eye on him.’ Lana pulled Moira to her feet. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ she said.
‘As if I’d have missed it.’
Lana smiled, but she could not meet her friend’s eyes. She had spoken truthfully when she’d said that she was glad Moira had come tonight, but nevertheless there was someone else who she wished fervently could have been here. Jack. Without Jack to share her triumph, tonight’s success was strangely hollow.
The bundles of newspapers had just arrived on the Newcastle train. Jack waited impatiently by the newsstand in the station until they had been sorted and spread out on the counter. Early travellers were already queuing at the ticket office and then hurrying over to buy their usual paper to read on the way to work.
Jack didn’t have a usual paper. Thelma liked the local rag, as Jack called it, but unless there was something in it about the Pavilion he found it incredibly boring. This morning he chose a selection of the national newspapers, paid for them and hurried down through the town to the theatre.
There was a sea fret, and mist swirled mysteriously on the lower promenade. Jack’s muffled footsteps echoed dully on the glistening paving stones. He let himself in through the stage door, and as soon as he reached his office he put the kettle on the gas ring and switched on the two-bar electric fire.
He made a mug of tea and stirred a spoonful of condensed milk into it. Then he sat staring at the newspapers he had placed on his desk. Last night had been the opening night of
Reluctant Lovers
, Lana’s first straight play. He had wanted to be there but could not come up with a good enough excuse. Very occasionally he managed trips to London on theatre business, and he would see Lana. But this time there was nothing to take him there and he knew instinctively that if he invented something, Thelma would know he was lying.
He reached for the newspaper on top of the pile,
The
Times
, and turned the pages, examining every inch. There was nothing. He hadn’t really expected there to be. It was the same with the
Telegraph.
He must have been crazy to think that the old established broadsheets would bother to send anyone along to review an out-of-town play.
The
Sketch
was full of the doings of high society, as usual, and the
Daily Herald
took itself too seriously to bother with a new play when there was trade union business to report on. He was left with two papers. The
Daily Mirror
– nothing. Then, finally, the
Express.
And there it was. Jack held his breath when he saw the heading: ‘A STAR IS BORN!’ He let his breath out slowly and began to read.
Last night an unknown actress trod the boards of the King’s Theatre in Wimbledon and, as well as stealing everyone’s hearts, won a standing ovation. The play itself,
Reluctant Lovers,
is a drawing-room comedy of the sort which is meant to cheer us up in these hard-pressed times. It is amusing enough, but without the two leading players, Don Bellamy and Lana Fontaine, it would be very ordinary.
Don Bellamy is something of a heart-throb, but as well as being good-looking, he has oodles of stage presence and is a master of timing. I wonder what he thought when he was told that an inexperienced actress, who it is rumoured has a background in Variety, was going to play opposite him. If he had any doubts he needn’t have done. She is magnificent.
Lana Fontaine is beautiful and talented and has the most attractive speaking voice. Her timing is at least as skilful as Don Bellamy’s. The way they played off each other enthused the rest of a lively and competent cast and lifted this little play to the ranks of a masterpiece. It will surely be going to the West End, where I predict we will see much more of Lana Fontaine.
Jack clipped the piece from the paper and put it in the top drawer of his desk, where he kept Lana’s letters. She sent them to the theatre. Perhaps he would start a scrapbook to record her career. Perhaps he wouldn’t. As Lana’s fame grew it might prove to be too painful. He was glad for her, of course. She was well on the way to achieving her dreams.
But what were his dreams? Jack asked himself. He was happy enough here at the Pavilion. He didn’t think he’d ever believed he would be more than a provincial entertainer. He was king of the seaside follies. He had Thelma whom he had betrayed. She didn’t deserve that. Her pretty face no longer shone with happiness and there were silver streaks in her lovely hair. She had allowed herself to put weight on; she was no longer the slender girl he had married. No matter what pain it cost her, she was a good mother to Kay, Lana’s daughter, who brought him joy every time he looked at her. Joy and pain, because he couldn’t be with his daughter’s mother.
Jack sighed, gathered up the newspapers and put them in the wastepaper basket. He had told Thelma that he was going to the theatre early to work on some improvements while it was quiet. He could hardly have taken the newspapers home. Now he would go back to play the part of the family man.
Thelma was barely awake when Jack had slid out of bed and got dressed. He had moved around the room quietly so as not to awaken Kay. His daughter was sleeping in the cot which was pushed against the fireplace wall. Jack had blocked off the hearth to stop the draughts harming the baby. The bedroom they slept in was too small, but the other bedrooms were occupied by lodgers, all of them performers at the Pavilion.
Jack leaned over and kissed Thelma before he left. ‘I’ll be about an hour,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back to help you with the breakfasts.’
The show this year hadn’t been going too well, and Jack had told Thelma that he wanted to go to the theatre while it was quiet and work out some new routines. She had no reason to disbelieve him. And no matter how busy he was, she knew he would keep his promise and come back in time to help her.
Since Kay was born Jack had taken over as breakfast cook. No one else knew this, as it would hardly be appropriate for the show’s director and star performer to wait on tables for his troupe of entertainers. Thelma had not had to ask him to help her. Since the advent of his baby daughter he had gone out of his way to try and make life easier for her. She supposed it was gratitude, and she didn’t mind exploiting it now and then. But she would never have gone too far, for the truth was she loved him as desperately as the day she had first set eyes on him, and she lived in perpetual terror that one day he might leave her.
After breakfast Eileen, the young maid, arrived to clean and make beds as well as help Thelma to prepare the meals. For the past month or so, after she had washed the lunch dishes, she had taken Kay out in her pushchair while Thelma snatched a rest in bed.
When Thelma heard Jack close the front door behind him she got up and crept over to the little cot. Kay was still sleeping. She looked down at her as she did each morning and tried to convince herself that the little girl looked like her father. She had Jack’s dark hair, but her eyes were blue whereas Jack’s eyes were brown.
‘She’s got your lovely blue eyes, Mrs Lockwood,’ Eileen had told her. ‘And with those dark curls she’s going to be a real beauty.’
Thelma had almost cried out in distress. She knew that whenever the child looked at her in years to come, she would be reminded of another pair of eyes. The dark-fringed, beautiful eyes of a woman who had looked at Jack and decided to make him her own. And as the child grew, the resemblance might become stronger. In moments of despair Thelma asked herself how she would cope, and also why on earth she had agreed to take the baby in the first place. The answer to that was because Jack had asked her to, and she loved him so much that she would do anything to please him.
Also, she had come to believe that she was going to remain childless, but if she brought up Jack’s baby it would make them into a proper family. Jack’s loyalty would not be divided between two households. He adored his daughter. He loved being a father. Maybe it was the actor in him, but he treated Thelma as if she really were Kay’s mother.
The child opened her eyes and looked unseeingly around her. Then she focused on Thelma and smiled. She was an easy baby who gurgled with laughter when Jack took her in his arms. She took her bottle and slept when she should. There had been very few sleepless nights.
Before Thelma reached down to pick Kay up, she gripped the rail of the cot and closed her eyes. She had waited because she could not be sure of Jack’s reaction. He loved this child so much. Did he have room in his heart for another one? However, she didn’t think she could disguise her condition for much longer. Tonight she would tell Jack that they would no longer be able to manage in this tiny room. Something wonderful had happened. A small miracle. Very soon they would be a real family. There would be no more pretence. She would have a child of her own. She prayed that he would be as delighted as she was.