The Boy I Love (48 page)

Patricia and Douglas Thomas arrived at the theatre just before curtain up on the matinée. Dora and Sally met them with shrieks of delight at the stage door.

‘It is so good to see you,’ said Sally, running into her dad’s arms. ‘We have to go and do the show now, but you know how to get to the flat, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Douglas. ‘We can go and start packing the car with Dora’s stuff, can’t we? Then your mother and I will be at the stage door at four
o’clock to take you to tea before the final show. She wants to go and buy some supplies for the journey home as well, I think.’

‘OK, then we will see you later,’ called Dora over her shoulder, already on the way to the dressing room to get changed. She added to Sally, ‘I will never get all my stuff in
the car, so do you mind hanging on to some of it until I get a place in Nottingham, then I will come and get it?’

‘No, not all,’ said Sally, carefully putting on her moustache. ‘You know, I will miss being Ratty, but maybe not the facial hair. Perhaps that is why I can’t get an
agent, because they think I am a hairy actress!’ She burst out laughing, and Dora joined in, until they were both laughing so much their make-up was running.

Sally gave her sister a hug and said, ‘I will miss you, Dora, even though you have been a pain in the butt. Just try and think about other people sometimes before you go off on
one.’

‘Yes, sister dear,’ Dora giggled. ‘I love you too, and I am truly sorry for all the grief I have caused.’

Sally smiled, and they left it at that. However, in her heart of hearts Sally knew that things between them would never be the same again. She would never be able to fully trust Dora, and she
knew that Dora would be living on a different planet this time next year. It was sad but true, and Sally surprised herself by her cynicism. Probably best to get on and take everything with a pinch
of salt.

The rest of the day went like clockwork. The girls took their parents to the pub for tea, and had pie and chips, and then did the last show to a full house of screaming children. As the curtain
fell there was a stampede for the dressing rooms, with poor Heather trying to remind people that they must be back on Boxing Day for the half, at two o’clock.

‘Why do I bother?’ she shouted over the noise to Sally. ‘Have a great Christmas Day, pet.’

Sally went to find Jeremy, who was struggling to the stage door with a huge bag.

‘We will see you at Junction Six bright and early on Boxing Day. Have a lovely Christmas Day, my darling.’ She gave him a big kiss.

‘You too, Sally. I hope Santa brings you something gorgeous!’ Then: ‘Bye, Gladys, don’t eat too many mince pies or you won’t fit through the stage door!’
Jeremy planted a smacker on the big woman’s cheek and was gone.

Sally found her parents waiting by the car which was piled high, but with room for them all to squeeze in.

‘I have got all the food and drink with me in the front,’ explained Patricia. ‘Just ask me when you want something. Now come on, let’s get going. I loved your moustache,
Sally.’

They all climbed in, and Douglas tooted a farewell to whoever might be listening, and they were off!

The comings and goings on a Saturday night in the theatre were always chaos. No one would have noticed anybody slipping through the big dock doors at the back of the auditorium
where all the scenery was kept. Gladys had already gone home and locked the stage door. The remaining crew would switch off all the lights except the safety ones, and then leave through the small
door in the dock doors.

Gradually the noise died down, and after the final calls of ‘Good night’ and ‘Happy Christmas’ had floated past the stage door, silence fell like a huge blanket over the
theatre. The figure in the dark anorak and hood sat for some time in the Royal Box, just listening to the silence. The stage was lit by a vague blue light, casting a sheen across the floor, making
it look like a lake. The rows of red velvet seats appeared tiny from the box. The figure brushed the nap of the ledge, and his skin tingled as the velvet pricked his fingertips. A door banged and
made him jump but soon there was silence once more. It was a dead silence, with no reverberations, echoes or resonance. The figure closed his eyes and tried to imagine he could hear the audience;
the murmuring of an expectant and excited crowd, a laugh ringing out now and then. But there was nothing. The theatre had shut down for the holidays. It was sleeping now, dreaming of all the shows
and drama that had filled its walls. It was resting, ready for the next onslaught.

‘Life goes on,’ murmured the man. He took a swig from the bottle of champagne he had by his side, and coughed as it went down the wrong way. His cough bounced off the walls of the
auditorium like a joke from the stage and came back to hit him like a stone, reminding him of the evil that was inside him. He grasped the brass railings of the box until the hacking cough stopped
raking across his chest. He was left breathless and feeling sick. He tried another sip of the bottle, this time taking it more slowly. The bubbles made his nose itch and he smiled to himself in the
darkness. He reached into his pocket for the envelope, and as he pulled it out, he realized it was all scrunched-up. He laid it on the edge of the box and tried to flatten it out. Then from his
other pocket he took the bottle of pills and put them on one of the little gilt chairs. He suddenly clasped hold of the envelope again, thinking that no, it wasn’t safe to leave it there. One
gust of air would send the missive fluttering down into the stalls below, and it would be lost.

I need a table
. He looked around the box. It was like a toy house with the tiny gilt chairs and the heavy brocade curtains either side, held open with gold and silver tassels. Then he
spotted a table near the door, beautifully inlaid with pale wood, and carried it down to the front of the box. He placed the pills and the bottle of champagne on it and then sat down again, holding
the envelope. Careful not to tear the letter inside, he pulled out the headed notepaper and began to read:

The young man carefully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope addressed to Jeremy Sinclair. He laid it on the table, then unscrewed the bottle of pills and tipped
them out. With the help of the champagne, he managed to wash down the entire pile of white tablets. Then, feeling tired, he folded his arms on the edge of the balcony, slowly laid down his head and
closed his eyes. He wanted to remember his visit to this box with Jeremy. It had been the happiest moment of his life when they first touched each other. He could smell the scent of Jeremy’s
skin and feel the softness of his lips as he kissed Eddie . . .

‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is with enormous sadness and regret that I have to tell you that Lord Edward Graham’s son, Eddie, committed suicide on Christmas Eve,
here in this theatre. It is for this reason that the police are still here, as some of you may or may not have noticed. The theatre will be closed until further notice. I apologize for getting you
back here, but I did not know myself until last night when I returned from the break. I suggest we use the time wisely though, and start with a read-through of
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
in the rehearsal room. Heather, if you would be kind enough to organize some coffee. I will need the whole company to stay in the theatre, as the police may want to speak to you all, at some point,
regarding this dreadful business.’

After Giles had left the Green Room, no one spoke for ages. Heather bustled round getting mugs and coffee sorted, but most people just stood or sat in a daze. Suddenly Sally asked, ‘Has
anyone seen Jeremy?’

There was no answer.

She left the room and rushed to his dressing room where she found him sitting with a bottle of vodka open beside him.

‘Oh, Jeremy, I am so sorry. You must be devastated. Come here.’ She made to take him in her arms but Jeremy stopped her.

‘Please, Sally, I know you mean well, but just leave me alone for now. Giles has given me permission to miss the read-through.’

‘But I am worried you . . .’

‘Please, Sally – just go. I promise you I am not going to do anything foolish. I just need to absorb this, and work my way through it.’

Sally nodded and backed away. She was desperate to console him, he looked so frail, but she did as she was told and left Jeremy to his mourning.

She called into Wardrobe to see Janie and find out if she knew any more details.

‘Well, not really. We only came in this morning. Apparently he was just sitting in the Royal Box dead. They don’t know exactly for how long, or anything. There was a suicide note,
which the police took away.’

‘Oh God, how sad. Anyway, I had better get going. See you later.’

The read-through was a disaster. Jeremy was not there, and nobody was concentrating, so Giles broke early.

‘I think we can leave this for today. But I want everyone here tomorrow morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.’

Sally managed to grab Giles by the arm as he was leaving. ‘Sorry to bother you, Giles, but do you have any more information? I am so worried about Jeremy, you understand. Someone said there was a suicide note?’

‘Yes, Sally, of course you are worried. I do understand, but I can’t help really. You need to speak to the police about the suicide note, I should imagine. Come with me and I will
introduce you to the man in charge.’

Sally followed Giles down to the stage, where there were police and people in white boilersuits everywhere. He went to find Detective Sergeant Derek Bush, who was in charge. While she was
waiting, Sally glanced up at the Royal Box, and the memory of her first encounter with Giles floated into her mind. How happy and excited she had been that day. Giles had looked so grand and
formidable up there in his eyrie. Why had Eddie chosen that particular spot to die, she wondered. How unbearable it must be for his loved ones. But not only was he dead, he had killed himself. He
had chosen to die. He must have felt so alone.

Sally wondered if Jeremy would blame himself somehow. She must help him to understand it was nothing to do with him. He could not have prevented it.

‘But if I hadn’t left him on his own! I should have made him come with me, that day I saw him at his father’s flat. I knew he was going to end up on his own. Oh Christ, why did
I leave him!’ he cried.

Sally and Jeremy were sitting in his dressing room. Everyone else had gone to the pub for lunch so it was quiet, and private.

‘But, Jeremy, Lord Graham would never have let you take Eddie away. What would you have done, kidnapped him?’

‘I know, I know you are right, Sally, but I feel so useless – like I let him down.’

‘Jeremy, may I remind you that it was because of Eddie, and his behaviour, that you too could have been facing a death sentence. You haven’t let anyone down!’

Jeremy looked at Sally for a few minutes and then got up and gave her a hug.

‘You are a very special person, Sally, and a good friend. I can only say these things to you. I knew Eddie would take his life, because from the moment he was diagnosed I could feel it in
him, sense his desire to do something positive about the situation. I know that must sound ridiculous because to most people suicide is a very negative response. However, to someone like Eddie, he
was being positive. There was no cure for his illness so he would have had to spend the rest of his days waiting for the dreaded signs to appear, warning him of his approaching death. Does anyone
want to live like that? I know one day they may find a cure and all the rest of it, but for now Eddie had nothing to do but wait. I have thought a good deal about him while I have been at home, and
I have almost cried myself through it, Sally. My poor parents did not know what to make of me, I was so down. I know how lucky I am to be in the clear, and it has made me even more determined now
to make a success of my career. I don’t need anyone in my life any more. I loved Eddie more than life itself, and I don’t regret a single moment I spent with him, but now I am on my own
and going to make the best of it.’