Lamplight in the Shadows (25 page)

‘What did he mean by a “Friend of Dorothy”?' he asked the otherwise empty room.

Placing his glass to one side, he opened the dictionary and flicked through the pages. It was on the off chance that he expected to find the answer in the OED. However, Luke had instructed him to look it up, as though he knew the answer would be easy to find. Finding no reference to ‘Dorothy' under the section D, he turned to that for F.

‘Friend of Dorothy,' he read aloud and then continued quietly.

Friend of Dorothy: a homosexual man – origin: from the name of Dorothy, a character played by the actress Judy Garland (a gay icon) in the film
The Wizard of Oz
(1939).

‘Well, we live and learn – I wonder whether Jules knows that? Twit, of course he probably does. Thanks for the warning anyway, Luke.'

Curiosity sated, he put the book on the floor and retrieved the two business cards from the breast pocket of his jacket. The first, buff-coloured, was that of the
Rev'd Dr George Morgan MA (Oxon), DD, Director of Ordinands, Diocese of York,
and evidently a friend of Dorothy, James thought to himself. The second card, a more sober white, announced the
Rev'd Luke Palfreyman LLB, BTh, MA (Cantab), Warden of Norton Abbey
, and identified the address of the abbey as being in the northern-most reaches of the Yorkshire Dales.

He took another sip of whisky and read the card again.

‘Well, you are full of surprises, Luke. A lawyer as well as a theologian; not to mention a mind-reader. Just what was it that you detected in me?'

He sat there contemplating as the whisky started to take effect, slightly detaching him from the immediacy of the room.

‘Norton Abbey,' he muttered, and started to flick the second card repeatedly between his fingers.

Hull New Theatre opened in 1939, despite the outbreak of the Second World War. It was lucky to have escaped all but one bomb, which destroyed a props store but left the rest of the theatre intact. Less fortunate than the theatre, the city of Hull was even now still recovering from the ravages of that war. Scattered throughout the city, large tracts of land were parcels of dereliction; stark reminders of the heavy bombing Hull had endured as the price of being situated on such a strategic waterway as the Humber estuary. In places, where fine buildings had once stood, makeshift car parks had subsequently materialised on bulldozed waste ground. Other areas, like the square in front of the theatre, were turned into attractive recreational gardens, as the city's elders attempted to capture a new age and image for their forgotten city.

It was on the edge of the Theatre Square gardens where James found a vacant parking bay into which he reversed the MG. The July afternoon was a fine warm one; the blue sky perfectly complementing the white and pastel shades of the imposing frontage to the theatre. Sunlight reflected off the theatre's gold-coloured name emblazoned high above the four white ionic-style columns; whilst even higher, the three ducal coronets of the city's arms lay obscured in the limpid folds of a flag undisturbed by even the gentlest of breezes.

‘A summer's day in Hull doesn't get much better than this. Isn't it glorious?'

He had walked to the passenger side and was in the process of assisting Anna from the car.

‘Thank you, you really are a gentleman.'

‘At your service, madam.'

He gave a court bow, raising her hand to his lips in the process. She giggled and glanced around.

‘Aren't you afraid that someone will recognise us?'

‘On a Thursday afternoon in this land of culture? The majority of those living in Bishopsworth will not venture across the Humber Bridge and even if they did, it would be for shopping. As for anyone from Barminster, I doubt very much that many have ever seen Janice and me together and therefore wouldn't look twice at my being seen with you.'

He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. Seeing her in a light summer dress made a pleasant change from her usual work uniform and the effect was not lost on him.

‘Come on, you beautiful lady, let me escort you to the ballet.'

They strolled through the landscaped, tree-lined garden, enjoying its faint perfume of jasmine and honeysuckle, and crossed the square to the theatre steps on the far side. As they ascended and passed under the towering entrance of the Grade II listed portico, James pulled the tickets from his pocket and checked their seat numbers.

‘F10 and 11. I think that should be towards the front of the stalls on our left-hand side.'

Inside the foyer, he glanced towards the two doors to the auditorium and affirmed his previous thought.

‘Would you like a programme? Of course you would; if only for a souvenir.'

He crossed to where a theatre employee was sitting behind a desk piled high with programmes, waiting for a moment whilst the person in front of him checked her change.

‘Just one, please. Thank you.'

Passing the programme to Anna, he paid and took Anna's arm. His voice took on the quality of an East End barrow boy.

‘This way to the tuppenny-ha'penny seats, ma'am.'

She laughed and slid her arm through his, walking close to his side.

‘I'm sure they cost far more than that.'

‘Absolutely! Blooming expensive they woz! It'll take all me wages for the next munf to pay 'em off-like!'

‘Stop it!' She laughed again. ‘I think I prefer the man I arrived with.'

‘As you wish, m'lady.'

He mimicked touching the peak of an imaginary cap before resuming in his normal voice.

‘Actually, you are right. I am hopeless at accents. They all end up sounding like a posh Welshman.'

He gave their tickets to a uniformed lady at the entrance to the auditorium, who tore off the stubs before returning the remaining portions to him.

‘Second aisle, sixth row up from the front on your left.'

‘Thank you.'

Inside, the predominant colour was a deep red, interspersed with gold ornamentation around the edges of the private boxes above and to either side. The implication was that the audience had entered an imaginary world of glamour and grandeur, far removed from their humdrum lives left behind on the streets outside. A low-level hubbub of noise permeated the place as people claimed their seats, flicked through programmes, paid to release the standard-issue opera glasses from their fastenings and identified friends across in other rows. A few members of the orchestra added to the general clamour by taking their places early in the orchestra pit and using the time to warm up or tune their instruments with a few scales, arpeggios or the odd bar or two from the afternoon's score.

James guided Anna through a small crowd dawdling on the rear walkway and onto the steps down to their row. As he did so he passed a woman wearing the uniform of the St John Ambulance, with a green first-aid haversack slung over one shoulder. For a brief moment, she seemed familiar, causing him to do a double take. Evidently, she did not have the same uncertainty.

‘Dr Armstrong! What a surprise to see you here.'

The voice cleared his confusion as to who stood before him. Recollecting himself, he thrust the tickets into Anna's hand, urgently whispering an instruction for her to continue down to their seats with the assurance that he would join her in a moment.

‘Hello, Mrs Stevenson. The surprise is all mine. I didn't know you are a first-aider. Do you get to many of these events?'

‘Yes, I've been a member for the past year – ever since Thomas started at primary school. I can only volunteer for the afternoon performances, but at least it gets me out and this way I feel that I am still being useful. I've been to all sorts of events – concerts, rugby matches, Hull carnival – but I prefer it here; more to my taste, you might say. Anyway, don't let me keep you.' She touched him lightly on his upper left arm. ‘I think it starts in a few minutes. It will be very different from the Christmas concert at St Lawrence's. I do hope your wife enjoys it.'

‘I am sure she will, Mrs Stevenson. I hope you are not too busy and can enjoy it yourself. Goodbye for now.'

‘Bye, Doctor. At least I'll know where to call for help if I need it later.'

James grinned in response and made his escape down the stairs to where Anna was patiently sitting.

‘Ah, I thought you'd deserted me already. Old girlfriend is she or do you just have a yearning for women in uniform?'

Her tone of voice implied that she was only partially joking; a fact not lost on James.

‘Ooh! Listen to you getting all possessive!'

He grinned, gently poking her with his finger as he spoke.

‘Actually, she's one of my patients.'

Anna's face instantly changed to an open-mouthed, wide-eyed look of mild horror. Instinctively, she made to turn round to identify the person.

‘No, don't look now, you noddle. I will tell you who it is. It's Mrs Stevenson from that hamlet just outside Helliton.'

‘The one with a young boy? What is his name… Timothy… Tony… no… Thomas?'

‘Yes, that's the one.'

‘And there was you saying that nobody from Bishopsworth would come across the river unless they were going shopping!'

‘Ironic, isn't it? It seems she is a member of the St John Ambulance and comes here on first-aid duty. Fortunately, she can only make the afternoon performances, so I doubt that she will be here again tomorrow evening. That might have been a bit tricky.'

‘Trickier than now?'

‘Oh, now is fine. In fact, her parting words were to hope that my wife enjoys the performance.' His face assumed a mock quizzical expression. ‘So, Mrs Armstrong, how is it for you so far?'

‘Very good, thank you, husband. At least it will be until Mrs Stevenson next tries to book an appointment through me. That might prove to be a little awkward.'

‘She'll forget by then. Either that or she will just think she has things muddled.'

She linked her arm in his once again and laid her head on his shoulder liberating, as she moved, the distinctive aroma of Christian Dior's
Poison.

‘I think I could get quite used to being Mrs Armstrong.'

‘Don't you get carried away now!'

‘I can fantasise, can't I? You've got to let a lady have a dream.'

Before an answer could be forthcoming, the audience around them broke into applause as the conductor entered the orchestra pit and mounted his rostrum. He bowed in acknowledgement, turned towards the orchestra and raised his baton.

‘I'll share it with you for the afternoon,' whispered James in her ear.

Using his free hand, he held her closer as the lights dimmed and the orchestra struck up the opening bars of the overture to
Swan Lake
.