Dreaming Out Loud (16 page)

‘You knew, didn’t you? You’ve known all along,’ Shirley challenged Moira, who was finding it difficult to meet her unexpected visitor in the eye.

‘Look, Shirley, I’m very busy.’ Moira waved a hand over the stacks of papers that covered her desk. ‘Could we talk about this some other time?’

‘I’m not leaving until you’ve admitted that you knew from the start that Lana Fontaine was Kay’s mother and you’ve told me what you’re going to do about it.’

‘What makes you think that I knew any such thing?’

‘Are you denying that it’s true?’

Moira sighed and sat back in her chair. She closed her eyes and then dropped her head into her hands. For a moment Shirley thought that she was crying, but when she looked up again her expression was of incredible weariness, not grief.

‘I’ve kept Lana’s secrets for so long,’ she said, ‘that I’d almost forgotten what the truth was.’

‘So what are you going to do now?’

Moira looked alarmed. ‘Do I have to do anything?’

‘Of course you do. It isn’t my place to tell Kay that while I was sorting through the old photographs I came to the conclusion that her father was having an affair with Lana and that the result was a baby – Kay, herself.’

‘Do you think she might already suspect the truth?’

‘Actually, I do. Otherwise, why was a collection of not very interesting old snapshots so important to her? But I don’t think she knows the whole story.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I think she has guessed about their affair but not that she was the result of it.’

‘And you think I ought to tell her?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I just don’t know.’ Moira shook her head wearily. ‘If only Lana had left clear instructions. But she didn’t, and a long time ago I promised to keep her secret, I can’t betray her now.’

‘Why did it have to be a secret?’

‘They promised Thelma.’

‘Well, I think Lana wanted Kay to know; that’s why she left her everything she owned. She wanted her to come to the house she’d lived in because it was her way of claiming her daughter. She must have known that Kay might work things out.’

‘But that would be breaking her promise.’

‘After she was dead and past caring.’

Moira uttered a moan of distress. ‘Don’t talk about her like that. You make her sound heartless.’

‘Perhaps she was. I mean, why did she give Kay up in the first place?’

‘She was unmarried.’

‘If Jack loved her so much, he could have divorced his wife and married her.’

‘She wouldn’t allow him to. They couldn’t afford any scandal.’

‘You mean Lana couldn’t afford the scandal, just when she had been promised work in London. Her career was about to take off, wasn’t it? A truly loving mother.’

Moira flushed. ‘All right, she put her career first, but she genuinely thought the baby would be better off with Thelma. And Kay would have her own father. And Lana did care, you know. She used to visit Kay whenever she could find the time.’

‘Good of her. And what did Thelma think about that?’

‘She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t refuse Jack anything. She even agreed when he pleaded with her to allow Lana to be Kay’s godmother. But when Jack died, tragically young, Thelma cut off contact and forbade Lana to come anywhere near her daughter.’

‘I don’t blame her.’

‘I thought that was spiteful.’

‘Well, I think it was quite natural. But what I can’t understand is why Thelma agreed to the arrangement in the first place.’

‘She loved Jack. If she’d refused there was the chance that Jack might leave her and go with Lana. I think she believed it was better to keep his child with her than risk losing him.’

‘And she’s never told Kay?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘Well, I think Kay deserves to know the truth and it’s your place to tell her.’

‘And what about Thelma?’

Shirley looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you think it would be fair to Thelma if Kay found out she wasn’t her mother? She’s brought her up since she was a baby. She must love her. Kay told me that Thelma didn’t want her to come to Lana’s house – surely you can imagine why?’

Shirley stared at Moira, momentarily speechless. ‘You’re right,’ she said at last. ‘Now what do we do?’

‘I’ll think about it. But until I’ve made up my mind, we must keep Lana’s secret a little longer.’

Then

Thelma stared at Jack, unable to comprehend what he was asking of her. She wasn’t really surprised when he had told her Lana was pregnant and that he was the father. She had suspected all along that something was going on. All those nights working at the theatre after the final curtain . . . Those extra rehearsals when everyone else had been given time off . . . They must have thought she was stupid. Or were they so in love that they just didn’t care?

Finally the reality of what Jack was asking sank in. They wanted her to take the baby and bring it up as her own. Jack’s baby. And Lana would go away and get on with her life and leave them be. At least, that’s what she promised.

Suddenly Thelma was filled with fear. What if she said no? Would Jack leave her and go with the mother of his child?

Jack must have known what she was thinking, because he took her hand and said, ‘We’ll bring the child up together, Thelma. You and me and the baby will be a proper family.’

‘How can we be? Everyone will know it’s not my child.’

‘I’ve thought about that. The baby isn’t due until February. When the summer season ends, the theatre will close and we won’t have any lodgers. If you were pregnant you probably wouldn’t be showing by then. With some women you can’t tell until the last minute.’

Thelma looked at him wonderingly. ‘You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you? So what do you expect me to do? Stay indoors and hide myself away?’

Jack hurried on. ‘You can go for a long visit to your aunt in Harrogate. She’s lonely, she’s always asking you to stay for a while, and you love Harrogate, don’t you? It will be like a holiday – and goodness knows you deserve one.’

‘You expect me to stay away from home all those months?’

Jack looked uncomfortable but he nodded. ‘Lana will bring the baby to you as soon as she can. When you come home it will be as the mother of the child.’

‘Aren’t you coming with me?’

‘I’d love to but you know I can’t. Once the theatre is closed I’ll have to oversee the repairs and redecorations; that’s in my contract. But I’ll come and see you every week and, of course, I’ll stay over Christmas and New Year.’

‘And what am I supposed to tell Aunt Ellen when Lana turns up with a baby?’

‘We’ll tell her we’re adopting it. There’s no harm in that, is there? We’ll say we’re doing a good turn for a friend and ask her to keep it a secret. She’s a good soul. I’m sure she will.’

Thelma saw the desperation in Jack’s eyes and knew she was going to agree to the plan. She would do anything to keep him.

‘All right, I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘But meanwhile, Lana can’t stay here. Find her some lodgings elsewhere and you must promise to keep away from her. And I don’t want to see her again until she brings me the baby.’

Lana looked around her dingy bedsitting room in the lodging house in a shabby suburb of Newcastle and felt like weeping. Mrs Parsons, her landlady, had made it clear that she wasn’t welcome downstairs, apart from taking her meals in the airless dining room, so Lana had to stay in this miserable, cramped space where the window overlooked the marshalling yards. The noise of the trains shunting up and down was constant, and the window was never free from soot, even after the window cleaner had been – his was a hopeless task. Lana spent many a sleepless night crying with fatigue and loneliness.

Jack had found out about Mrs Parsons. Or perhaps he had already known because some unfortunate chorus girl in the past had needed to stay here. He hadn’t been quite clear about that. Mrs Parsons was a midwife who took in unmarried pregnant women and looked after them until the birth of their babies. She delivered the babies herself, but if a doctor was needed there was one nearby. All this was quite legal.

Lana couldn’t complain about the food or the hygiene. As an expectant mother she was well looked after. At a price. Mrs Parsons had lost her husband in the Great War and she’d had to make her own living ever since. Lana suspected that as well as taking in expectant mothers she was also engaged in something not quite so lawful. A succession of young women, and sometimes not so young, appeared at the front door, to be ushered through into Mrs Parsons’ private sitting room. Sometimes Lana heard one of them cry out in pain and sometimes she heard bitter sobbing. They never stayed the night.

Once, she had heard defiant screaming, and venturing to the top of the stairs, she had witnessed a girl who could have been no more than fourteen or fifteen rushing towards the front door. She was followed by an older woman, who made a grab for her, but the girl twisted out of her grasp, opened the door and fled.

The woman turned to face Mrs Parsons, who had followed, grim-faced. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘So you should be,’ Mrs Parsons replied. ‘You’ll still have to pay me for my time, and for God’s sake don’t let your daughter blab about this.’

‘I won’t. I’ll send her away to my sister’s farm until she’s had the baby.’

‘If I were you I wouldn’t let her come back.’

‘Perhaps I won’t. After all, we’d never live down the shame of it.’

Chilled by this exchange, Lana had retreated to her room and wept silent tears for the unfortunate girl. She wondered what her future might be.

Today Lana huddled over the gas fire. She had to feed the meter herself, but she couldn’t bear to think she was too poor to be able to keep warm. She had been profligate with her wages, had bought clothes which would probably be out of fashion before she could wear them again. She supposed she could always sell them. She wouldn’t have been able to stay here if it were not for the fact that Jack helped out. And so he should, of course.

Her feelings for Jack swung wildly to and fro. She loved him; or at least, she had convinced herself that only if she’d been in love would she have allowed him to seduce her. And yet apparently she had not loved him enough to give up her dreams of success in the theatre and make some kind of life with him. And what kind of life would that be? He wasn’t rich. He was handsome and talented, but in her heart she knew he didn’t have that extra something that would make him a star.

It was a poor sort of life she would lead, and that was definitely not for her. No, once this nightmare was over she would head for London, leaving Thelma to bring up the child. Until that day came she would just have to get on with it.

Jack called to pay the rent once a week but he never got past the doorstep. Mrs Parsons would have no gentlemen in the house. She didn’t want to ‘get a name’, she said. Nothing must happen under her roof. Of course, the neighbours must know what kind of lodgers she was taking in, but to allow the men responsible to cross the threshold would be a step too far.

Lana glanced at her wristwatch and cheered up when she saw it was nearly time for Jack to arrive. She turned off the fire and put on her warmest coat, then she went to sit halfway down the stairs. As soon as Jack arrived and had handed over the money she would hurry down and go out, defying Mrs Parsons’ icy glare on the way. She would walk with him to the station, a journey that took a little over ten minutes. They would sit in the waiting room until his train came. There would be a fire in there and Jack would fetch two cups of tea from the refreshment bar. Then all too soon the train would arrive and he would have to go.

And then the highlight of her week would be over. Jack would go home to an empty house, and Lana would go back to her lonely room. The only thing that kept her going was Monty’s promise that he would find her work as soon as she was fit enough. He was even willing to find her a convalescent home – and pay the bill. He said she was an investment. But until then the days dragged on. Sometimes, she thought, she hated this baby she was carrying.

He knew it was wrong, but Jack Lockwood didn’t feel at all ashamed of the situation he had created. How many men could have such a loving wife as Thelma and such a desirable mistress as Lana Fontaine? Thelma was pretty in a soft, unchallenging way, and Lana, even now, while she was suffering a wretched pregnancy, was heartbreakingly beautiful. She still fired him with desire, and not being able to be alone with her was exquisite torture.

But what would happen when the baby came? Jack had not allowed himself to dwell on the fact that he had asked his wife to take his child by another woman. Had he been arrogant when he assumed that Thelma loved him so much that she would agree to the plan? He had not threatened to leave her if she didn’t, but he was conceited enough to believe that the possibility would torment her and that she would keep the child in order to save her marriage.

Why had he married Thelma, the daughter of his landlady in a northern seaside town? She was very pretty and she obviously adored him. Had that been enough to make him propose? Well, of course it might have been different if her mother had not found them in bed together, but he was soft-hearted and he could not bear to cause Thelma any pain. That was partly the reason, but there was also the fact that if he refused to marry her he would probably have had to leave town just as he was beginning to make a name for himself and the Pavilion.

He had never thought very deeply about whether he loved Thelma. In fact he was cynical enough to doubt there was such a thing as romantic love. Until he met Lana. His complacent, cosy little life had been overturned and he knew that for the rest of his life, whether they could be together or not, he would belong to Lana body and soul.

Jack had insisted that Lana bring the baby after dark. It was February, and the Pavilion had closed at the end of the pantomime season. Jack was planning the next show and auditioning hopefuls. There would be nobody in the guest house who knew Lana – nobody except Thelma and Jack himself. He had not come to Mrs Parsons’ house to collect her; that had been taken out of his hands. Monty, her agent, had sent a car.