Dreaming Out Loud (25 page)

Late that evening, worried out of her mind, Thelma took the spare keys and went to the theatre. The wind was blowing in from the sea and it was bitterly cold. Each breath she took hurt her throat and brought tears to her eyes.

Inside the theatre it wasn’t much better. She called out for Jack, but there was no response. She was filled with dread. When she entered his office she found him slumped over the desk. She tried to rouse him, but it soon became obvious that he was dead. She reached for the phone and dialled 999.

While she waited for the ambulance she looked at the folder full of newspaper clippings. There was also a copy of today’s
Daily Express
spread out on the desk, open at the entertainments page. She cast her eye over an article about a glamorous party, where Lana Fontaine had been seen dancing with the new heartthrob Robert Spencer. When questioned, Lana said that although they enjoyed working together there was no romance in real life. Thelma wondered if Jack had believed that and, if not, what torments he had suffered.

Thelma looked at the folder and remembered how Lana had always said that one day someone would document her life. She remembered all the photographs that Lana had insisted should be taken and wondered what had happened to them. Sitting down at the desk, she clipped the article from the paper and put it into the folder. She didn’t know why she had done this, except that Jack would have wanted it. And closing the folder somehow symbolised ‘the end’. Thelma kept the folder – again, she didn’t know why, but it was if Jack were telling her that it would be important one day. She never opened it again.

She didn’t keep the bundle of Lana’s letters that she found in the bottom drawer of the desk. Jack had tied them up with a ribbon, as if he were some romantic schoolgirl. Thelma laughed through her tears at that. She didn’t read them. Even in this situation she was too principled to pry – and in any case, she knew it would cause her grief. When Jack had been taken to the hospital mortuary she took the letters to the waste bin behind the theatre and tossed them in. She looked at them mingling with ice-cream wrappers, empty crisp packets and abandoned programmes; then she closed the lid and walked away.

Thelma locked up the theatre and went home. She wondered if the icy wind would freeze the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

‘Please, don’t be like that,’ Lana said. ‘Don’t you know you’re breaking my heart?’

Thelma could barely control her anger. ‘You can stop the melodrama. It won’t work with me. Nothing you say will make me change my mind. And keep your voice down. The children are in the next room.’ Thelma walked over and closed the door.

Lana spoke quietly but she sounded just as desperate. ‘She’s my daughter. You have no right to stop me seeing her.’

‘You gave up your rights when you handed her over to me.’

‘Jack wouldn’t have wanted this.’

‘Jack’s gone. We buried him last week.’

‘I know. And why didn’t you write to me until it was all over?’

‘Because I didn’t want any dramatics at the graveside.’

‘Thelma . . . please . . .’

‘It’s no good, Lana. You chose your career rather than bring up your daughter. Kay is mine now. I never want you to come near her again.’

The coals shifted and settled in the grate. Thelma sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Eventually, she wiped her eyes and willed the past to fade. She opened the paper, turning the pages until she found the review of the film premiere. She ignored the photographs, because Kay wasn’t in them, but she read the review with interest. There wasn’t much about Kay – only a small paragraph about the new star who had turned in an emotional and powerful performance, even though she had been confined to a wheelchair.

Thelma went through to the kitchen and took a shoebox from a cupboard in the dresser. Sitting at the kitchen table, she carefully cut out the review then put it in the box, along with the other pieces she had clipped from newspapers.

Nobody knew she was keeping this scrapbook. Julie would have been delighted, because she would have taken it as a sign that her mother was not only resigned to Kay’s new life but that she actively approved of it. Thelma wasn’t sure yet if that was true. She did know that Jack would have been proud of Kay, and Lana, too.

She closed the box and returned it to the cupboard. She sighed. Even though Lana was long dead, her ghost seemed to be winning the battle.

Part Four

Chapter Twenty-Three

The morning after the film premiere Kay and her two lodgers were quiet at the breakfast table. Shirley had gone out early to scan the newspapers at the newsagent’s and had come back with the
Express
. She read the review out loud, then turned to Kay. ‘Well done, old thing!’

‘Yes, well done,’ Jane echoed faintly. She reached for the newspaper and looked at the photographs.

‘And I’d like to say,’ Shirley continued, ‘that I’m sorry I was such a selfish bitch last night. It’s no excuse, but I was in a right old mood with myself.’

‘I noticed. What was wrong?’

‘Just something to do with work. But I shouldn’t have let it spoil your triumph.’

Kay smiled wanly. ‘Don’t exaggerate. It was a good review but hardly a triumph. And I was just as moody. And as for you, Jane . . .’

‘Mmm?’ Jane looked up from the paper. ‘What about me?’ she asked, and Shirley could have sworn her fellow lodger looked nervous.

‘You never said a word other than “please” and “thank you” all night.’

‘I’m sorry. I suppose I was a bit overwhelmed. I’m not used to mixing with theatricals.’

Shirley burst out laughing. ‘Theatricals! I suppose you mean Julian? And I can tell you, you had him puzzled. We all had. He tried desperately to jolly us all along, didn’t he? Moira tried her best, too, but Tom was as unsociable as the rest of us.’

‘Let’s leave it alone,’ Kay said.

‘You’re right. Let’s just write it off as one of those things. And you and I had better get a move on if we’re going to be in time for rehearsals for the next exciting episode of
Mulberry Court
.’

They managed to find seats on the bus, but even though the mood had lifted Kay and Shirley were still quieter than usual on the way to Broadcasting House. Eventually Shirley said, ‘It’s man trouble, isn’t it, Kay? Come on, you can tell Aunty Shirley.’

Kay smiled. ‘Only if you’ll admit that that’s what’s bothering you, too.’

‘It is, and I think you and I should have a good old chinwag over lunch. Share our troubles and all that. Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ Kay said. ‘And we could also speculate on what’s bothering Jane. As far as we know, she hasn’t got a man in her life at the moment, so what else is making her miserable?’

‘I’m not sure if she’s miserable about anything,’ Shirley said. ‘I think she’s downright scared.’

Once Kay and Shirley had gone, Jane looked down at the paper and studied one of the photographs anew. She began to tremble. There was no question that it was her in the crowd, and the picture was so clear that anyone who knew her would recognise her immediately. She glanced at her watch. The diamond-tipped hands told her it was time to phone Maurice. She went through to the hallway and perched nervously on the chair by the telephone table, then dialled the usual number.

She held her breath as she waited for Maurice to pick up the phone. She could only hope that he hadn’t seen the newspaper. Her hopes were dashed the minute she got through.

‘What the hell were you thinking of?’ were his first words. ‘Getting yourself photographed like that?’

Jane began to shake, and not just because the hallway was cold. ‘I was in the crowd . . . I didn’t think.’

‘That’s your problem, you silly cow. You never think, and that’s because you haven’t got anything to think with. If you had, you wouldn’t have been in the West End in the first place. Why on earth were you there?’

‘I was at the film premiere.’

Maurice swore. ‘I guessed that. Just tell me why.’

‘It was Kay’s first film. They would have thought it funny if I hadn’t gone.’

‘You could have had a headache.’

‘No, Maurice. I’ve used that excuse too many times when they’ve wanted me to go out with them. I think they’re beginning to get suspicious. Especially that nosy bitch Shirley.’

There was a pause, and when he spoke he didn’t sound quite so angry. ‘Then it’s probably time we moved on, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t understand. How can we?’

‘Because I’ve got the money. First thing this morning Kos—’ He broke off then started again, ‘My pal came round with it.’

Jane was silent. When she spoke there were tears streaming down her face. ‘You mean it? You’re not kidding?’

‘Of course I’m not kidding. We’re off, kiddo, and you’ll never have to worry about your landlady and her pal again.’

‘When are we going?’

‘We’re going today.’

‘
Today!
’

‘There’s no sense in hanging around, so go and stuff some essentials in your handbag.’

‘What about my clothes?’

‘You won’t need them. We’ve got enough moolah to buy anything you need as soon as we reach Paris.’

‘But Maurice . . .’

‘No “buts”. We’re travelling light. Understand?’

‘Yes, I understand.’

‘And leave the place tidy. We don’t want your landlady suspecting anything until we’ve left these shores behind us.’

‘Where shall I meet you?’

‘Listen carefully. Don’t write anything down.’

When her call ended Jane raced upstairs. Her heart pounding with elation, she began taking clothes out of her wardrobe. Maurice really couldn’t expect her to leave all the new clothes she’d bought. She stared at them in bewilderment, wondering what to take and what to leave. She reached for her suitcase.

Ten minutes later, Jane frowned as she squashed the lid down. She glanced at the rest of her clothes heaped up on the bed then reached for a hanger. She started putting them back in the wardrobe and then paused and laughed.
What the hell
, she thought.
Why am I worrying about leaving the place untidy? By the time they get home from work I’ll be long gone
.

Then she paused. If she left it like this they would just worry about her. They were daft enough, too. They might even call the police. Jane rummaged in her handbag and found a receipt from the jeweller’s. Hastily she scribbled a note on the back and left it on the dressing table. Then she put on her best coat, picked up her suitcase and headed off to a new life.

The man in the car reached for the handset of his two-way radio and flicked the switch. ‘Sergeant Masters, please.’ There was a pause. ‘That you, Tom? She’s just come out carrying a suitcase. Looks like she might be off.’

‘Could be. Word is that a huge amount of French francs changed hands this morning.’

‘Francs? She’ll be heading to Victoria, then?’

‘Looks like it. Keep on her tail and keep in touch. I’ll send back-up. This could be it.’

Kay picked up her lunch tray and followed Shirley to the furthest corner of the basement canteen.

‘Why are we doing this?’ she asked.

‘Doing what?’

‘Hiding away like this?’

‘We don’t want anyone to join us, do we? Not while we pour out all our troubles.’

Kay settled in her seat and frowned uneasily. She was no longer sure that she wanted to ‘pour out her troubles’. After all, nothing Shirley could say would help; but before she’d had a chance to tell Shirley that she’d changed her mind, the other girl said, ‘It’s about Tom, isn’t it?’

Kay sighed. ‘There’s no other man in my life at the moment, is there?’

‘And you’re in love with him?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Oh, come on, Kay, it’s obvious that you’re crazy about him.’

Kay stared at Shirley, tight-lipped and silent.

Shirley continued, ‘Do you think he’s messing you about?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, he seems keen, but he’s obviously not taking the relationship any further. One reason for that could be that he’s married. Have you considered that?’

Kay stared at her friend in consternation. ‘No . . . actually, I haven’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘It never occurred to me. He seems . . . too honourable. Or am I naïve as well as stupid?’ Kay felt her temper rising.

‘Naïve, probably. But what other explanation could there be? I mean, he seems as keen as mustard, he calls by the house as often as he can and he’s always taking you out.’

‘And my friends too!’

‘Yes, I’ve noticed that. It’s almost as if he’s fallen for you but he can’t allow himself to get too close.’

‘Do you think we could stop this conversation?’

‘I’ve upset you.’

‘Of course you bloody have.’ Kay attacked her shepherd’s pie furiously.

Shirley looked crestfallen. ‘I thought it would help to confide in each other.’

‘Well, it doesn’t.’

Shirley was silent, and when Kay looked at her she saw to her dismay that she was crying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said through her tears.

‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry,’ Kay said.

‘You see, I thought we could console each other.’

‘I know you did.’

‘I thought we had the same problem. I’m in love with Julian. Original, isn’t it, to fall in love with your boss? And I thought he was in love with me – or at least was interested – and then suddenly he turned all cold and distant. Then last night we learned he had a grown-up son. So that’s it. He’s married.’

‘Miss Walton, could I have a word with you?’ Kay and Shirley looked up to see Julian standing over them. He was carrying his lunch tray but he didn’t look in the slightest interested in it. ‘In my office.’ He dumped the tray on the table. ‘I was going to join you for lunch,’ he said, ‘but I think there’s something we need to talk about. Now.’

Kay had never felt so sorry for anyone as she watched Shirley follow Julian out of the canteen. She stared down at the abandoned food and completely inconsequentially thought what a waste it was. She took up a forkful of her mince and potato and realised that her hand was shaking. She put the fork down again, and to her horror she began to cry. Why had she never considered the fact that Tom might be married?

She took her handkerchief from her handbag and scrubbed the tears from her cheeks before anyone from the surrounding tables noticed her. Then she resolutely ate every scrap of her lunch and drank her coffee. In a few minutes she was due in the studio. Nothing must come in the way of the next episode of
Mulberry Court
.

After the broadcast Kay declined her fictional parents’ invitation to join them in the club.

‘Are you OK?’ Alex asked.

‘You are looking a bit peaky, darling,’ Cynthia added.

‘I’m tired, that’s all. I need to go home and put my feet up.’

Alex joked good-naturedly about her new career as a film star, but Cynthia told her to ignore him and make sure she had an early night.

After everybody had gone and the studio had been cleared, Kay looked around for Shirley and couldn’t find her. Norman, one of the studio managers, came up with a note. It was short and sweet: ‘Don’t wait. Will tell all later, Shirley.’

Drat the girl
, Kay thought.
Doesn’t she realise that I’ll worry about her?
Feeling utterly despondent, Kay went home alone.

The house was quiet. And cold. Kay hurried through to the kitchen and discovered that Jane had let the fire go out. And she had also neglected to clear the breakfast table and wash the dishes. Jane didn’t have to wash the dishes; it was just that she always did. Kay wondered if she was all right. She went upstairs and knocked on Jane’s door. After waiting a few moments she opened the door, went in and then stopped and stared at the open door of the wardrobe, the half-closed drawers and the pile of clothes on the bed.

Kay was utterly bewildered. It was like a scene from the
Marie Celeste
. What could have happened to the girl? At that moment she heard the key in the lock and hurried downstairs as the front door was opening.

‘Jane,’ she called. ‘Are you all right?’

But it wasn’t Jane who walked into the hall; it was Shirley.

‘I’m not Jane and why shouldn’t she be all right?’ Shirley said.

‘You’d better come up.’

Shirley followed Kay upstairs and stared at the state of Jane’s room. ‘What on earth . . . ?’ she said.

‘It’s not like her, is it?’ Kay said. ‘I mean, she’s always so careful with her clothes.’

Shirley was staring upwards. ‘Can you remember, did she keep a suitcase on top of the wardrobe?’

‘I think she did.’

‘Well, it’s gone. She’s left us.’

Kay shook her head. ‘But why like this?’

‘Haven’t a clue.’

Kay watched uneasily as Shirley, less reluctant than she was to pry, moved around the room turning over clothes or shoving them aside. So it was she who found the note on the dressing table. ‘Listen to this,’ she said. ‘“Sorry to leave so unexpectedly. Family crisis. I’ll send you any rent I owe you. I’ll be back for my clothes.”’

Shirley looked up from the scrap of paper. ‘What do you think of that?’

Kay was bewildered. ‘I thought she’d quarrelled with her family. I thought her father forbade her to come anywhere near them.’

‘Or so she told us. You know, I don’t believe a word of it. She won’t be back for her clothes and you can say goodbye to the rent. She’s run off.’

‘Why would she do that?’

‘I don’t know, but I wouldn’t mind betting it’s something to do with the telephone calls she denies making. We won’t see her again.’

‘If that’s the case, what will I do with this lot?’ Kay stared at the heap of clothes.

‘I would give it until her rent’s due, and if you haven’t heard from her after that, I’d sell everything or give the lot to the Salvation Army. Meanwhile, I’ll help you tidy up, and then I suggest we go downstairs and put the kettle on.’

Kay was thankful that Shirley could take everything so matter-of-factly and was pleased to accept her offer of help. Back in the kitchen she made up the fire and Shirley made a pot of tea. It was only when they were sitting at the kitchen table that Kay remembered how upset Shirley had been last time she had seen her. She didn’t like to ask what had happened, so she was relieved when Shirley brought the subject up herself.

‘About Julian,’ she said and then she stared into space.

‘Was he . . . was he angry with you?’ Kay asked.

‘Just a little. He didn’t like the fact that I was talking about him to you.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘I told him it was his own fault.’

‘You didn’t!’