Starlight (5 page)

Peering through the darkness, aware of the great screen ahead and the voices of the soundtrack in her ears, Jess was wondering just where to sit when a figure with a torch glided up and whispered, ‘Hello, Jess. Sneaking a wee look at Bette Davis, then?'

‘Oh, Edna!' Jess had jumped a little and now was trying to look about her. ‘Sally said I could pop up for a few minutes. It's OK, isn't it? I mean, there's no' many here.'

‘Never get many up here for the matinee, hen. Evening's the time – that's when we get the courting couples, fellas showing off, buying the best seats.' Edna shone a torch along an empty row. ‘Where'd you like to go? Front, or back?'

‘Oh, back, I think. Then I can slip out easily.'

‘Here, then. I'll sit with you for a minute. Then I'll have to do the ices. My turn.'

When they'd settled themselves into seats on the back row of the circle, Edna kindly whispered bits of the plot of the film to Jess, who'd really rather have managed without. Even though she'd missed the beginning, she got the message that Bette Davis, the so-called ‘Jezebel' of the title, was one for flouting convention, especially when she turned up to a ball wearing a red dress when every other young girl was in white.

‘What a shame the picture's no' in colour, eh?' Edna was hissing in her ear. ‘That dress looks black!'

‘Even worse than red,' Jess answered. ‘No wonder Henry Fonda's glowering!'

Yes, and looking more like Ben Daniel than ever, she privately thought, and could even picture him running the projector behind her, as Rusty might be running it in real life.

‘But this looks like a good film,' she commented to Edna. ‘Think I'll have to see it right through some time.'

‘Be warned, then,' Edna replied. ‘If you work in a cinema, you never get to see any picture all the way through. Sad, but true. Now, I'd better scoot.'

‘Me, too. But I really enjoyed that. Being in the circle.'

‘Pop up any time, then. Listen, would you like an ice cream? On the house?'

‘Thanks, but I'd better get back to Sally. Nice to talk to you, Edna.'

‘And you, Jess. No' been so bad, has it?'

‘What?'

‘Your first day.'

‘No' bad at all!' cried Jess.

And by five o'clock that first day was over, and Jess, slinging a cardigan round her shoulders, was telling Sally it was true, she'd really enjoyed it.

‘Though I'll have to admit, you were right,' she added. ‘I do feel a bit tired. Seems strange. I don't usually feel tired.'

‘It's just the strain, dear, of taking everything in on your first day. Everybody feels it.' Sally gave her a little push towards the door. ‘But you're no' going to find any trouble with this job. Just hope it has enough for you.'

‘Enough? I should say so! It's a Princes job, isn't it? That's enough for me.'

‘Off you go, then, Jess, and I'll see you tomorrow. One o'clock, eh?'

‘One o'clock it is.'

‘And look out for your admirer.' Sally gave one of her chuckles. ‘He's been let off early and all, and he's out there, waiting.'

‘Rusty is?' Jess didn't know whether to feel flattered or exasperated. All she wanted really was to get home.

Outside the cinema, when his tall figure came leaping up to her, she sighed. ‘Oh, Rusty, you've no' been waiting for me, have you?'

‘Too right, I have.' His eyes were dancing. ‘I thought we'd go for something to eat – celebrate getting our jobs.'

‘Ah, I'm sorry. It would've been nice, but I have to get home. My mother and sister will be wanting to know how I got on. And to tell you the truth, I feel dead tired. Can we make it some other time?'

His eyes had stopped dancing, his smile had faded.

‘Sure, if it's what you want. Where's home, then? Maybe I could walk with you for a bit?'

‘I'm taking the train. I live in Leith.'

‘So, let's go to the station.'

The evening was still warm – even sticky; there was the feel of thunder in the air. Luckily, they hadn't far to walk, the cinema being at the east end of Princes Street, convenient for the station.

‘Here's my train already in,' Jess told Rusty when they reached the platform. ‘It'll only take me a few minutes to get home. I prefer it to the tram.'

He wasn't listening, had fixed her with his grey eyes. ‘Look, Jess, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be harassing you this way, following you around, that sort of thing. Just, we seemed to hit it off so well – I thought . . .' He stopped and gave a sudden grin. ‘Let's say, I'll behave myself in future, OK?'

‘Rusty, you haven't been harassing me. What a thing to say!' Jess was watching the guard with his green flag at the ready. ‘Think I'll have to go now, but it's all right, I'm no' annoyed or anything. I'll see you tomorrow.'

‘We could still have a meal, eh? Just as a couple of colleagues?'

‘That'd be grand.' Hastily opening a door, she boarded the little train. ‘Goodbye, then, Rusty.'

‘Goodbye, Jess.'

Anybody'd think I was going a long way off, she thought with a smile, as she waved and he waved back. Poor Rusty – he did seem disappointed, whereas she felt on the crest of a wave. Soon, she'd be telling her mother and Marguerite about her first day, and making them see that she'd done the right thing. And finding out as well if Ma had brought back anything interesting to eat.

But when she eventually squeezed into a seat in the crowded train, it was not her mother's face that came into her mind, or Marguerite's, or even the disappointed Rusty's. It was Henry Fonda's, as she'd seen it in
Jezebel
. Or was it Ben Daniel's, in the projection room? The images seemed to mix and flow and just for a second, her eyelids drooped and closed.

‘Terminus!' cried a voice near at hand. ‘All change! Everybody change!'

And Jess left the train for home.

Eight

‘Like a duck takes to water' had been Sally's forecast for Jess's success in her new job, and though she didn't care to think of herself as a duck, Jess knew that she was in fact swimming very well.

Everything seemed to be just as she'd hoped it would be, and that was unusual in itself. So often, anything you looked forward to turned out to be a disappointment, and so many had thought her move to the Princes to be a backward step, Jess had always had to remember that they might be right. But it hadn't turned out that way at all.

In the handsome surroundings of the cinema, she felt all the magic she'd longed for, and if that might seem hard to understand by those who saw her job as merely routine, well, she couldn't really explain it. But as she had told her mother, even just working in the box office, she felt herself in the light of the stars at the Princes.

Something that people would surely understand, anyway, was that she felt not only wonderfully on top of her job, but also the warm glow that came from being liked. Everyone at the cinema seemed pleased she'd come to work there. Even Mrs Baxter, who ran the cafe, and her waitresses; even Fred, the handyman, and Trevor Duffy, the middle-aged man who played the cinema organ. It was almost as though she'd found another family.

Not that Rusty would want her to feel that, she knew, for being like a brother to her would not appeal. As for Ben Daniel – he always seemed as friendly as everyone else. If there were more to his feelings, she didn't know. Had her hopes, though. Hopes so secret, she didn't even put them into words. Just knew they were there.

Certainly, he hadn't been long in calling her to the projection room. Appearing at the box office one afternoon and fixing her with his brooding gaze, he'd asked if she'd mind coming in early some time, before the matinee, so that he could give her his crash course. Nothing to worry about. She wouldn't be asked to do anything, it was just that, as she knew, Mr Hawthorne liked everyone to have some idea of how the cinema worked.

‘Oh, yes, I'll look forward to it,' she'd told him, at which he'd given a faint smile.

Two days later, she presented herself in the projection room, where Ben, in his shirtsleeves, welcomed her.

‘No Rusty?' she asked.

‘He'll be in later. We often work alone.' Ben set a chair for her. ‘Now, how much do you know about this side of things? Ever thought how the film you watch comes to be there, on the screen?'

‘I've never thought much about it at all.'

‘No reason why you should, as a picture-goer. But now you're working in a cinema, you might find it interesting.'

‘Oh, I will,' she said earnestly. ‘I want to know as much as possible about the way things work here.'

For a moment, he studied her. ‘I believe you do. Folk often talk like that in here, and half the time, they're just being polite. But you mean it, don't you?' He laughed shortly. ‘Are you going places, Jess?'

‘Going places?'

‘Well, there's a ladder in cinemas, you know – same as everywhere else. If you want to go up it.'

She turned pink. ‘How would I be going up ladders? I've just started in the box office.'

‘Have to start somewhere.'

He laughed again, then pulled forward a metal box and opened it.

‘Let's get on, eh? This is a box of film reels and is the way the reels are delivered. So, first job is to check them off and then load into the projector – in the right order. Want to see where they go?'

For some time, he showed her the various parts of the projector – the spools, shutters, channels, apertures, light source and controls – while explaining how to run the film smoothly through and check that the sound was working properly.

‘Pretty technical,' he told her, ‘and no one's expecting you to take it all in, but at least you'll have some idea of how your favourite film gets up there on to the screen.' He grinned. ‘All an optical trick, you know. Just an illusion.'

‘I don't believe it!'

‘Yes, it's true. Motion pictures are only still pictures presented in a certain way. It's your eye that does the work, really.'

‘Now you're spoiling everything for me,' she told him, not altogether in fun, but he shook his head.

‘Come on, it's no different from knowing that the stars aren't really there on the screen. No Charles Boyer, no Clark Gable, no Greta Garbo.'

And no Henry Fonda, who's right here, she thought, looking away, in case he read her mind. But he was already showing her how he spliced the film when it broke down – the thing the audience most hated, as she would know.

‘Och, yes! I can remember going with Ma to the silent films and they were always breaking down. Then there'd be catcalls and whistling and I don't know what.'

‘You might like to learn how to join a film yourself sometime. Never know when it'd be useful.' Ben glanced at a large clock on the wall. ‘Better leave it for now, but you can always ask Rusty to show you. OK?'

‘Sure, I'll ask Rusty.' She smiled, as she moved with Ben to the door. ‘Thank you very much for the crash course, then. I really appreciated it.'

‘My pleasure.' His dark brown eyes seemed to be resting on her face just a little longer than was necessary. Or was that her imagination? He was opening the door for her, anyway, and they were standing close, exchanging those looks, when Ben stepped back and cried, ‘Why, here's the man himself. Hello, Rusty! I've just been giving Jess the tour of the projector.'

‘Ah, why wasn't I here?' Rusty asked.

‘Maybe you could give her a lesson in splicing the film sometime?

‘Any time. Any time!'

As Jess made her thanks again and left with one swift backward glance at Ben, Rusty followed.

‘We never did have that meal,' he told her. ‘Haven't forgotten, have you?'

‘No, but it's difficult when we both work evenings.'

‘We do have evenings off. Let's fix something up.'

‘Let's,' Jess agreed, and offered to find a time they could meet by studying the timetable.

Nine

It was some weeks later, at the end of September, that Addie, who'd been reading her evening paper, suddenly flung it down and cried, ‘Now, did I no' tell you girls that the government would see we were all right? And it's true. See, it says here, there's going to be no war!'

‘It was me said the government wouldn't let a war happen,' Jess said quickly. ‘Don't you remember?'

‘Did you? I thought I said it. Anyway, here it is, in the paper!'

‘Where?' asked Marguerite. ‘Where does it say it won't happen?'

‘Here, on the front page. The Prime Minister's come back from this meeting with Hitler and he says Germany doesn't want war with anybody.' Addie adjusted her reading glasses to look at her paper again. ‘See, there's going to be “Peace in our Time”!' She gave a triumphant smile. ‘Just like I said, there'll be no war. We can all thank God for Mr Chamberlain.'

‘We'd better listen to the wireless at nine o'clock,' Jess said, studying the picture of Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister, with his smiling face and his piece of paper from Munich that seemed to bring the promise of peace. ‘What a relief, eh?'

‘But is anybody celebrating?' Marguerite asked.

‘I think folk just want to get on with their lives and be grateful,' her mother answered. ‘I know that's what I want.'

But Jess said nothing. She was feeling guilty over another celebration that hadn't happened yet. The meal with Rusty, to celebrate both of them getting their jobs – she still hadn't fixed it up and his looks were getting more and more reproachful. He was a sweet fellow, she didn't want to let him down, and if it meant tying a string round her finger to remind herself, she'd get round to it. Early in October, she finally did.