Kitty Little (45 page)

There came the sound of weeping, and Kitty could imagine him gazing at Esme from out of dark, soulful eyes as he mopped up her tears.
 

‘Its all too much for me,’ he moaned. ‘Charlotte’s never satisfied. ‘She’s utterly grasping, I’ve learned that much. Never stops complaining or haranguing me, and rarely lets me touch her nowadays, not unless I’m prepared to fund her excesses in this social whirlpool she’s concocted. Almost as if she’s playing a role in a dratted play, an act that I have to pay admission for. I spend my life searching for fresh funds, as you know my sweet. It’s a nightmare.’

‘I’m sure she does truly does care for you, in her way. She stays, doesn’t she? Oh, and I do wish she wouldn’t.’

‘Ah yes, but what can we do sweetie? I married her. For better for worse, for richer for poorer.’ His voice was sharp with irony.

‘Preferably for richer if Charlotte has any say in the matter.’ They both laughed, though there was little mirth in the sound. ‘Oh Archie. What are we going to do?’ Silence followed this pitiful cry during which, to her shame, Kitty pressed harder against the panels of the door in a desperate attempt to identify the muffled sounds within. She could make little sense of this conversation, except that Esme was still potty about him and Archie was moaning as usual. When was he going to ask her to leave, to come away with them
now
, tonight?

Eventually, when she had almost given up hope, Esme’s voice again, low and breathy. ‘I love you so much Archie. I’d have nothing without you. I don’t
care
if you feel you must stay with Charlotte, so long as you don’t stop coming to see me. You won’t, will you? You know how much I need you. You make my life bearable. I mark your visits in my diary. They’re my red letter days.’

Visits?
Red letter days
! What was she saying? Kitty could hardly believe her own ears. Had Archie
known
where Esme was all along?

Archie murmured, ‘always did love you best, Esme my sweet. Cared for all three of you gels, but you were special, even though I married Charlotte.’

Behind the door Kitty felt as if someone had kicked all the air out of her lungs. Those self-same words had been used by Archie to herself when he’d called to see her at Laburnum House. He’d actually had the nerve to proposition her. What the hell was going on? Did all this mean what she thought it meant? They said eavesdroppers never heard any good of themselves, but this was the last thing she’d expected. Kitty took a step back from the door but then, unable to resist, again pressed her ear back to the door panel.

Archie was still talking. ‘...so that is why, my own sweet darling, my visits here make life bearable for me too. We’ll always be friends, for ever and eternity. More than friends. You know how I’ve always loved you best. But I must go soon, my angel. We can’t risk the odious Terrence finding me here.’

‘Oh, not yet. Not yet. Please...’

Again there followed a prolonged silence but this time the identity of the muffled sounds were only too evident to Kitty. They were making love. She could hear Esme’s little gasps of pleasure, Archie’s grunts of intense satisfaction. Kitty did now back away, staring at the door as if she could actually see the pair through its solid surface. Then she turned and ran.

When Archie returned to their table some ten minutes later, as coolly immaculate as ever, Kitty had composed herself and was calmly discussing with Charlotte the relative merits of blue and gold against red and cream for the new curtains and decorations they planned for the Barn Theatre, just as if she had never left her seat. Kitty was saying how this place too, looked in dire need of a lick of paint.

‘Though it’s got character, in its own way. If only...’

‘It were in a more salubrious neighbourhood. Quite. I doubt Shakespeare would bring the crowds flocking in here, do you?’ Charlotte finished with a wry smile, and even Kitty had to chuckle.

She glanced up as Archie approached, with a frown of anxious enquiry. ‘Well, did you get anywhere? Is she coming?’

Archie sadly shook his head. ‘Won’t budge. Think she’s afraid of the fat guy. Mr Terrence, they call him.’

‘No doubt she likes the money,’ Charlotte said, draining her glass and getting to her feet. ‘Now will you take me home this instant. I’m quite worn out.’

Kitty said, ‘I’m not coming.’

‘What?’

She was adamant that she’d stay on in Manchester for one more day, in order to make further attempts to speak to Esme. Archie surprised her by arguing forcibly against the notion.

‘Why won’t you leave poor Esme alone?’

‘Because she’s my friend. We struck a bargain years ago that we’d look after each other, that we’d never give up on our friendship, no matter what. I trust she’d do the same for me, if the situation were reversed. ‘Please warn the Misses Frost for me, won’t you? I’d hate them to worry,’
 

But he wouldn’t let go of the argument. Never had she seen Archie so angry. He ranted and raved at Kitty, accusing her of being stubborn and interfering, obstinate and bossy, insisting that she was wasting her time. Charlotte said that Esme had the right to mess up her life, if that was what she wished to do.

Kitty, however, remained resolute. ‘I can at least try.’

Archie suddenly changed tactics. ‘In that case I shall stay with you.’

This was the last thing she wanted. Kitty felt the need of some time alone, to speak in private to Esme. And time to think. Only when Charlotte finally lost her temper did Archie storm out of the theatre, jump in behind the wheel of the Jowett and drive away, leaving Kitty standing alone and vulnerable on a dark, wet city street.

Kitty expected to spend a sleepless night in the small hotel she booked herself into, but was surprised to discover that after writing her usual loving letter to Owen, which she meant to post first thing in the morning, she fell instantly asleep. In no time at all she was waking to a new day.

She should have been rushing back to put the finishing touches to the Benefit Night, as well as spending precious time with Dixie. Instead she was consumed by a terrible anger building slowly within her.
Archie had lied about forgetting the name of the theatre. He’d actually visited Esme there
! Yet he had not admitted this either to herself or, presumably, to Charlotte. The reason was only too evident from the sounds she had heard behind the closed door. He and Esme were having an affair.

In itself, that was not so surprising, Kitty supposed, but the realisation brought with it two unanswered questions. If he’d decided that marriage to Charlotte was a mistake, (and who could blame him for that) and that he really loved Esme, then why had he propositioned Kitty? Not simply once, but on numerous occasions since her return.

Secondly, why hadn’t he persuaded Esme to leave that dreadful place? What kind of man would be prepared to have the woman he loved take off her clothes for other men? There was something seriously wrong here. For the first time Kitty began to wonder if she knew Archie as well as she thought.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Theatricals usually stayed in the same boarding house, within walking distance of the theatre so it didn’t prove too difficult to discover where Esme lodged. She looked more her normal self this morning, young and fresh faced, if a little tired and not in the least surprised to find Kitty on her doorstep.

‘I thought you might come,’ she said, as she led her inside.

Dressed in an old check dressing gown she was taking a late breakfast in the tiny bed-sitting room she occupied. It was dark and shabby, containing little more than a bed and a chest of drawers with a few hooks on the wall which held Esme’s few clothes covered by a curtain. In one corner stood an old sink and cupboard, single gas jet, table and two chairs. It was here that Esme was preparing porridge. Kitty declined any for herself but accepted a cup of tea.

The two girls sat at the table in the window, sipping their tea with little more than polite comments about the weather and perfunctory remarks about the war, as they gazed out on to grimy mill chimneys and roof tops beyond. It reminded Kitty of her old attic room at Hope View in Ealing and she shivered, almost as if she had come full circle, for wasn’t she still suffering from the effects of those who derived their pleasure at the cost of others?

The effort at small talk was finally exhausted and Esme said, ‘I can guess why you’ve come.’

Kitty looked up at her in surprise. ‘Can you?’

‘You’ve found out, about me and Archie.’

A short pause, a sip of the scalding tea. ‘Not until I heard you both last night at the theatre. I’m sorry, I dare say it was rude of me to listen but I couldn’t help myself. I came back stage to add my weight to Archie’s efforts of persuasion and found - well - you know what I found. But don’t worry, I shan’t tell Charlotte.’

She was speaking quite quickly, still staring at the chimneys, reluctant to meet Esme’s enquiring gaze. ‘It’s none of my business, after all. Though how long you imagine you can go on without her finding out, I can’t imagine. Charlotte isn’t going to take kindly to being betrayed. All hell will be let loose.’

‘Charlotte isn’t the only one who’s been betrayed. He left me for her, remember, the moment she came back from Yorkshire that last time.’

‘I know, love.’ Kitty hesitated, wanting to reach out to her friend, but not quite knowing how. Should she tell Esme about how he’d tried to seduce her too? Or had she been mistaken? Kitty was so used to making excuses for Archie, she found herself doing so yet again but then remembered that if she hadn’t stopped him, he would have been perfectly prepared to enjoy a little romp there and then, in the Misses Frost’s front parlour. It all suddenly seemed rather tawdry and all the time he had
known
where Esme was, being no doubt a regular visitor to this seedy little room. Suddenly the anger boiled up in her again and Kitty set down her cup with a snap.

‘Can’t you see how he’s using you. How he’s used us both. He’s every bit as manipulative as Charlotte, in his own selfish way. Archie doesn’t love any of us. Archie only loves himself. He loves money and idleness, not having to make any effort or decisions about anything. He’ll always take rather than give, whatever brings him the most pleasure. It could easily have been me making love to him last night.’

Esme’s face flushed bright pink. ‘That’s a lie.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Kitty told her then, quite bluntly, about how Archie had made it clear that he still wanted her. ‘He’s even told me their sleeping arrangements, which apparently leaves him free for nightly trysts whenever he chooses, though how true this is I don’t care to consider. But he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s more than willing to take up where we left off. He can’t keep his hands off me, yet doesn’t give a damn about any of us. He’s as fickle and as utterly self-centred as... as...’

‘I don’t believe you.’ All colour had drained from Esme’s face, the pain in her grey eyes terrible to behold.

Kitty softened her tone. ‘Oh Esme,
if
he’s so wonderful, why hasn’t he insisted that you leave this dreadful place? Why does he allow you to demean yourself in this manner? Why do you stay?’

A deep sigh, which seemed to be drawn up from the bottom of a deep dark well. ‘I-I’ve got myself into a mess, I admit it, allowing myself to be taken in by the likes of Terrence Lee. I met him in Preston and he seemed genuine enough at first, assured me it was all quite respectable. I just had to sit there and look beautiful for men to admire. No movement or anything. Nobody ever had admired me before and it seemed safe enough but then - he started asking for more, so - we reached a compromise.’

Esme seemed to run out of words but then went on in a voice so low Kitty could hardly make them out. ‘Charlotte was right in one respect. I did think too little of myself. Always have, I suppose. Hiding from memories of what my father did to me, I came to expect bad things to happen. It seemed normal. But that other accusation she made isn’t true. I only dance. Nothing else. I have the respect of the audience, even of Mr Terrence. It’s called Live Art.’

Kitty slammed her fist down on the table, knocking over the abandoned cup so that tea spilled over on to the linoleum floor. ‘Utter rubbish. It’s
sleaze
! You’re titillating men’s fantasies and for heaven’s sake, Esme, you deserve better than that.’

‘I’ve told you. I need the money. And it won’t be for ever, just till I’ve got myself...’

‘What do you need money for?’ Kitty interrupted, barely having the patience to listen to any more excuses. ‘The lack of it has never bothered you before. Why now? Besides, you could get a job in any normal theatre, music hall, variety, even the pierrots would be better than this.’

‘None of that pays anything like as well, even if the work were available.’

‘So where’s the evidence of all this money then?’ Kitty moved about the room, indicating the shabbiness of their surroundings. ‘What do you do with it? What do you spend it on?’

‘I’m not spending it. That’s the point. It’s for
our
future. Archie’s and mine. He’s saving it for me. He does mean to tell Charlotte about us. Quite soon. But he can’t leave her just yet. Not till she’s perfectly well again. She lost the baby you know. She’s been quite low since.’

Kitty stared at her dear friend in pained disbelief. Poor Esme. She was really far too naive for her own good. ‘I don’t believe she ever was pregnant. I think it was all a ruse, to force Archie to marry her.’