Starlight (3 page)

‘Miss Raeburn,' he said quietly, ‘so do I.'

After another silence, he rose, thanked her for her application and asked her if she'd mind waiting in the cafe for a little while. He might want to speak to her again. The interview was over.

‘I do feel a fool,' she heard herself saying on the way back to the cafe, but Miss Dollar smiled and patted her shoulder.

‘You've no need to feel that, dear. You did well.'

‘I thought I'd be going straight home now.'

‘Like the others, you mean?'

‘The others have gone home?' Jess's eyes widened. But it was true, of course, no one had returned to the tearoom.

‘We'll be letting them know. You, too. Now . . . I have to find Miss Wright, eh? Poor lassie – the last to go in, eh?'

Five

When Tricia Wright, pale and nervous, had left the cafe with Miss Dollar, Jess found herself alone with the girl behind the counter – one Pamela Gregg, according to her name tag – who kindly asked if she'd like another cup of coffee.

‘Oh, I would!' Jess answered quickly. ‘I feel I've just done a ten mile walk or something.'

‘That bad, eh?' Pam Gregg, who was fair with a broad freckled face, laughed. ‘You're still here though, eh?'

‘They're going to be letting us know.'

‘That right? Well, I'd no' be surprised if you got news today. Like milk with your coffee? The sugar's just there.'

As Jess moved away, walking slowly so as not to spill any coffee on Marguerite's two-piece, Pam called that she'd better be getting on with setting the tables, they'd be opening for light lunches in half an hour.

‘And I'd better no' be too late,' Jess called back. ‘I've to go back to work this afternoon.'

‘Better wait to see what happens, though.'

‘I'll do that, all right!'

The door opened and a young waitress came in, tying on a decorative apron, followed by a tall young man with high, thin shoulders and long legs, who stood for a moment or two, looking around.

‘Any chance of a coffee?' he asked, his voice sounding English.

‘We're no' really open yet,' the waitress told him, staring at him dubiously. ‘You're no' here for the box office job, eh?'

‘Box office?' He grinned. ‘Good Lord, no. I'm here for interview with Mr Daniel. I'm a projectionist.'

‘Give him a coffee, Nancy!' a plump, middle-aged woman called, appearing from the back of the cafe. ‘I expect Ben'll be down in a minute.'

‘I'll get it, Mrs Baxter,' Pam said. ‘Black or white, sir?'

‘Thanks, I appreciate this – black, please.'

The young man, taking his coffee, looked round the tables and, having spotted Jess, approached her with a friendly smile. ‘Mind if I join you? I take it you're a candidate too?'

As he sat down without waiting for permission, she looked at him coolly. He had a mop of waving reddish brown hair and unusual grey eyes, almost three-cornered in shape and fringed with thick dark lashes. Probably, she supposed, he would be considered handsome by most. A charmer, anyway. But not her type.

‘No' for the projectionist's job,' she answered, after a pause, at which he laughed.

‘I didn't think so. Must be for the box office, then. Look, shall we introduce ourselves? I'm Russell MacVail, always known as Rusty.'

‘Jessica Raeburn, always known as Jess.'

They shook hands and Jess relaxed a little, allowing herself a smile.

‘What time's your interview?' he asked, quick to smile back.

‘I've already had it.'

‘And you're still here? That's hopeful.'

‘They're going to let us know,' she said uneasily. Why were folk so confident for her? She didn't dare to feel confident for herself. ‘But aren't there any other people here for the projectionist's job?'

‘That's what I've been wondering.' He took out a packet of cigarettes and offered it to her.

‘Thanks, I don't smoke.'

‘Mind if I do?'

When she shook her head, he lit a cigarette and grinned. ‘Hey, maybe I'm the only candidate?' Then the grin faded and he shook his head. ‘Unlikely the way things are. I had no luck finding anything round Woking.'

‘You were given the sack?' Jess asked with sympathy. ‘Oh, that's terrible. So, now you're applying up here?'

‘My dad's old home, Edinburgh.' Rusty glanced at his watch and stood up, stubbing out his cigarette on his coffee saucer. ‘Look, I've got to go. Have to report to the projection room in ten minutes. Think we might meet again?'

‘I couldn't say. Depends on you.'

‘If I'm lucky, you mean.' His unusual eyes were resting on her face. ‘Keep your fingers crossed for me, then.'

She held up her hand, showing two fingers firmly crossed, and they both laughed until Rusty strode away, curly head held high, and Jess, seeing Miss Dollar approaching, didn't feel like laughing any more.

‘Miss Raeburn!' Miss Dollar called. ‘There you are, then. Could you come up to the office, please? Mr Hawthorne would like another word.'

‘Miss Raeburn, come in, come in! Please, take a seat.'

Mr Hawthorne was jovial, his worried brow relaxed, his eyes bright on Jess's face.

‘Thank you for waiting – sorry it was so long.'

As though she wouldn't have waited! Glancing quickly at Miss Dollar, who was remaining at the door, sending out encouraging signals with another wide smile, Jess again took the chair facing the manager, her heart beating fast. What was this word he wanted, then? From his welcome, his whole manner, she couldn't help hoping it would spell ‘Job'.

But it could be anything, couldn't it?

It was ‘Job'.

With a ritual shuffle of his papers and a pleasant grin, Mr Hawthorne came out with it. The magic word.

‘If you want the job, Miss Raeburn, it's yours.'

All applicants had been carefully considered, of course, but there was no question, he told her, that she was the best person for it. Both he and Miss Dollar hoped she'd be very happy at the Princes. And could she start next week?

Stunned, she was for a moment tongue-tied.

‘I never thought I'd hear today,' she said at last.

‘We'll be notifying the others, but there was no point in keeping you waiting. So, what do you say, Miss Raeburn? Do you want to work with us here?'

‘Oh, yes, I do, Mr Hawthorne, I do! I'm . . . well, I'm thrilled.' Her eyes brightening, as it began to sink in that she'd been successful, she said again in a whisper, ‘Thrilled!'

‘And could you start next week, then? Thing is, Miss Dollar's lost her assistant to the Borders – had to move with her family – so you see we want someone fairly sharpish. You need only give a week's notice to Dobson's, I think, if you're paid weekly?'

‘Yes, only a week is necessary.' Jess's head was buzzing. Only a week, and she'd be away from the work she knew and the people she knew. After four long years.

Didn't seem possible. It was what she wanted, of course, and it was true that she was thrilled at her move, but now that it was all happening, she found she couldn't quite take it in. How would it all work out? She was doing the right thing, she knew she was. But . . . next week?

‘All a bit sudden?' Mr Hawthorne asked sympathetically. ‘And a big decision? But what you want, isn't it?'

‘It is,' she declared, straightening her shoulders, trying to appear positive. ‘I'd need the full week's notice, though.'

‘Make it Monday week, then. How about that?'

‘That'd be grand.'

They stood up, shaking hands, and Miss Dollar came forward and shook hands too and said she was really looking forward to working with Jess, who must call her Sally.

‘And may we call you Jessica?' Mr Hawthorne asked.

‘Oh, Jess, please.'

‘We want you to feel at home here, you know, and as I say, be happy.'

‘I'm sure I will be.'

‘I've no doubt of it. Now, if you go with Sally, she'll take you to meet my secretary, Miss Harrison. She'll go through all the formalities with you. Then maybe you'd like a bit of lunch with us, in our cafe?'

‘Oh, I'd have liked that – thank you very much – but I have to go back to work. I only got the morning off for the interview.'

‘Another time, then. Goodbye for now, Jess. See you on Monday week.'

‘On Monday week.'

Even after going through all the formalities the manager had mentioned with his rather angular, middle-aged secretary, Jess still felt dazed at the speed with which she'd changed her life. But when Edie Harrison wished her good luck with a kindly smile, she rallied with a smile of her own, thinking how everyone she'd met so far had been friendly and helpful, and how that made her feel again that she'd done the right thing.

‘You'll take to this job like a duck takes to water,' Sally told her, perhaps reading her mind, as they returned to the foyer. ‘That's what George and I felt, anyway.'

‘George?'

‘Mr Hawthorne. I call him that – we both worked at a cinema in Portobello together before we came here. He was assistant manager, I was an usherette. I know Daisy, his wife, as well, but och, what a worrier! Spends all her time telling him to take it easy. As though he ever would!'

‘Wish I hadn't got to dash away,' Jess murmured, as they reached the box office. ‘I could've had another good look round.'

‘Plenty of time for that Monday week, eh?' Sally glanced at her watch. ‘And we'll be opening up soon for the matinee performance. Hey, is that somebody you know?'

Jess, swinging round, saw Rusty MacVail coming towards them, his eyes lighting up, his hand raised in a wave.

‘Hoped I might see you!' he cried. ‘How'd you get on?'

‘Miss Dollar, this is Mr MacVail, a projectionist,' Jess answered. ‘Mr MacVail, meet Miss Dollar – my new boss.'

‘You got the job? That's wonderful. Congratulations! Miss Dollar, it's good to meet you. Hope I'll be lucky enough to meet you again.'

‘You don't know how you got on?' Jess asked sympathetically.

He shook his head ruefully. ‘Been asked to wait.'

‘At least they didn't say they'd let you know.'

‘No, but there are plenty of other guys around. Just have to hope for the best. Can I get you ladies a coffee or anything?'

When Jess explained that she had to go back to work, he sighed and said he wished he could have walked her on her way, but after polite farewells left for the cafe, Sally staring after him.

‘What a nice laddie, eh?' she whispered. ‘Let's hope Ben Daniel gives him the job. Goodbye, then, Jess, I'll see you Monday week. As you know, we don't usually work mornings, as we've to do late shifts, but if you come in about ten, I can go through things with you before we open. That all right?'

‘Oh, yes, fine. Thanks for everything, Miss Dollar . . . I mean, Sally.' As she hurried to the door, Jess looked back and smiled. ‘See you Monday week!'

By the time she'd announced her news at Dobson's, put in her notice and received congratulations mixed with groans from the manager and her colleagues, she was climbing over the moon again, all her little symptoms of shock melting away. It had been a good place to work, Dobson's, and she'd been grateful for the experience of being there, but it was right that she should be moving on now. To somewhere special.

The Princes Street Picture House, here I come! she thought, looking forward with pleasure to telling of her success to her family when they all met at home in the evening.

‘Knew you'd get it,' Marguerite remarked. ‘Is my suit all right?'

‘Perfect. Never spilled a thing.'

‘Still canna make you out, Jess,' her mother said thoughtfully. ‘Know what I think? You're just star-struck. Just want to be near those picture folk, eh? Won't be in the starlight in the box office, though.'

‘Oh, yes I will!' cried Jess.

Six

Monday week. Well, it came at last, though her last week at Dobson's had seemed a long week to Jess. And then, at the end, there'd been all the embarrassment of the leave-taking and the leaving present – a writing case – to exclaim over, as well as the promises to meet up, the jokes about free tickets at the Princes, the dashed away tears, as she walked out of Dobson's for the last time.

‘All good things come to an end,' Addie said later. ‘What you have to do, is make sure you've got something just as good to go to.'

‘Exactly,' Jess retorted. ‘Something like the Princes Street Picture House.'

‘At five bob less a week,' Marguerite reminded. ‘Still, I think I do agree that it'd be a lovely place to work. A cut above most cinemas round here.'

‘There you are, Ma!' Jess cried triumphantly. ‘Marguerite agrees with me.'

‘Just as long as you don't expect me to lend you my suit again to go to work. Once was quite enough.'

‘No need to worry, I'll be wearing my own clothes now,' Jess said loftily. ‘I know what'll look right.'

And on Monday week, Jess spent no time agonizing over what to wear, but appeared at the Princes on that first morning looking coolly attractive in a pale green blouse and patterned skirt. The day was hot and dry, and Sally Dollar, when she greeted Jess in the vestibule, was already feeling the heat, dabbing at her brow with cologne and saying she must go on a diet, she was far too plump for weather like this.

‘Awful weather, anyway, eh?'

‘Awful?'

‘For going to the pictures, Jess! Folk don't want to be inside when it's nice!'

‘But it's
Jezebel
this week – with Bette Davis and Henry Fonda.'

‘Aye, might attract a few in for them, but we've no' got the air conditioning, you see.' Sally shook her bleached head. ‘But we'll just see how things go. I'll let you off at five today, anyway, seeing as it's your first day and you'll be tired.'