A Dream of her Own (36 page)
The waiter appeared with the drinks on a silver tray. Lucy noticed how old he was, how his skin was like yellow wax, and his out-of-date black suit was threadbare and cheesy. Poor old thing, she thought, having to work at his age, and at this time of night. Still, Harry’s a generous tipper; he’ll not go unrewarded.
‘There you are, my love,’ Harry said as the old man retreated into the shadows. ‘Chin-chin!’
‘Cheers, Harry.’
They savoured their drinks for a moment in the dim, overfurnished room. It was late and the other hotel guests would be in bed; only theatricals kept eccentric hours like this. Lucy glanced around at the oil paintings in heavy ornate frames and the old-fashioned gaslight fittings. She was surprised that a hotel of this size hadn’t gone over to electricity but apparently the clientele were a conservative lot. At least that’s what Harry said.
‘Why do you stay here?’ she asked suddenly.
Harry looked surprised. ‘I always stay here. In fact I keep a suite here permanently, you know that. Home from home.’
‘But why a hotel, Harry? I mean, you could afford a nice little villa, keep it staffed.’
‘I’ve got a nice little villa.’
‘But that’s in Kent!’
Lucy knew all about Harry’s home in St Margaret’s Bay, not five miles from Dover. That was where Harry went at least once a year and the base from where he set off for holidays on the continent. It was also where he kept Mrs Harry Bodie and the little Bodies. Or so he claimed.
Oh, Lucy believed in the existence of the villa all right. He’d even shown her photographs of it; some of them pictured him dressed in a linen suit and a Panama hat, sitting in a deck chair in the garden. But none of the photographs included his wife or family. Did they exist or were they a convenient fiction to prevent various lady friends getting ideas above their station? Lucy had once entertained such ideas. But that had been a long time ago.
‘Another one?’ Harry gestured towards her empty glass.
‘We-ell . . .’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll see you home safe.’
‘Will you, Harry?’ She raised her eyebrows and glanced sideways flirtatiously, but she knew he wouldn’t respond, not now. ‘Go on then. Just one more.’
The waiter appeared on cue and Harry ordered not just the drinks but also two rounds of cold roast beef sandwiches. ‘Don’t forget the horseradish,’ he said. Then to Lucy, ‘I’m feeling peckish, aren’t you?’
‘So-o,’ he said a while later when they had done justice to the late night snack. ‘How did it go?’
Lucy knew he didn’t mean the show. Apart from Nella’s act, there wasn’t anything much new about the routines the troupe had performed tonight. No, he meant the meeting in Alvini’s Coffee House that very morning. The meeting between Nella and her faithful stage-door Johnnie. Harry had agreed to it, encouraged it even, but he’d asked Lucy to go along with Nella as a chaperone. At least that’s what he’d called it. She suspected that what he really wanted was a spy, and this was the first chance she’d had to report back.
‘It went all right.’ Lucy paused as she remembered what had happened. ‘But I suppose you know that Nella didn’t really want me to go with her?’
‘Did you tell her that it was right and proper? Her reputation and all that tarradiddle?’
‘I did but she’d already asked an old friend of hers to meet her there.’
‘Friend of Nella’s? What - a servant girl? A skivvy from the house where she used to work?’
‘No, I was surprised, I must admit. Constance her name was. Mrs Edington. And very well-dressed and respectable she was too.’ Lucy didn’t add that she had thought Nella’s friend to be a real beauty, sensational, even. No need to tell Harry that.
‘Well, well. There are things about little Nella Nicholson that we don’t know, eh? Perhaps Mrs Edington was the lady of the house? No ... I thought she worked for the Sowerbys. A married daughter perhaps?’
Lucy fidgeted uncomfortably. She didn’t really care who Nella’s friend was but she could see that Harry’s curiosity had been aroused. He liked to know everything about everyone. That was the way he was.
‘Never mind, Lucy my love,’ he said at last. ‘What I really want to know is how the meeting between our little sparrow and her devoted follower went.’
‘Very well. Except—’
‘What is it?’
‘Harry, he’s strange.’
‘Strange? What on earth do you mean? He’s tall and dark and outstandingly handsome and, as the master of Alvini’s, he’s worth more than a bob or two. He’s ideal. Otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed to it - wouldn’t have taken advantage of it.’
‘Advantage?’
‘Look, Nella’s got the voice and the face of an angel. That can’t be denied. But the rest of her. Her...’
‘Her body.’
‘Yes, her body... well, all we can do is disguise it. And we can’t keep it secret, much as I’d like to. The wardrobe girls, the stagehands, the other performers, we can’t stop them talking. Nella’s public is bound to know - or rather to guess that there’s something wrong. So-oo,’ he leaned back in his chair and took a drink of his whisky, ‘an admirer, a possible beau who is every maiden’s dream, can only help. That’s why I planted the stories in the newspapers.’
Lucy smiled. ‘I guessed it was you. The way it was written up in the
North Mail
it even sounded like your very words!’
North Mail
it even sounded like your very words!’
‘They were my words. The reporters on the regional papers are so short of imagination that they’re grateful for handouts. They’ll print it word for word.’
‘Mystery admirer!’
Lucy exclaimed.
‘Who is the handsome gentleman who follows Nella Nicholson from theatre to theatre? Wherever the Little Sparrow appears you will find him sitting in the royal box!
And so on!’
Lucy exclaimed.
‘Who is the handsome gentleman who follows Nella Nicholson from theatre to theatre? Wherever the Little Sparrow appears you will find him sitting in the royal box!
And so on!’
‘Good, aren’t I?’ Harry laughed. ‘But go on, tell me. How did the lovers’ meeting go?’
‘Don’t say that!’ Lucy shuddered.
‘What?’
‘Don’t call them lovers, Harry. Let’s hope it never comes to that. That would be ... would be ... disgusting!’
Harry stared at her. His expression was unreadable and his voice subdued. ‘Tell me why.’
Lucy didn’t know how to express what she meant. ‘I’ve told you. He’s strange.’
‘In what way?’
‘He’s ... he’s ... Well, although he’s a fine big man with a grown man’s body, his mind is ... is like that of a child.’ Harry was nodding solemnly. ‘You knew?’ Lucy asked.
‘I guessed the very first time I saw him joining in the sing-along at the pantomime. There was such a look in his eyes - innocent . . . childlike. And the woman with him, I guessed it was his mother, she was looking at him as if her heart would break.’
‘Well, if you knew about him why are you encouraging this... this... What exactly are you encouraging, Harry?’
‘I’ve told you. It will help Nella’s career if she has a rich handsome admirer, especially when he’s no real threat.’
‘What are you talking about, no real threat? You should have seen the way he looked at her! I’ve never seen such . . . such adoration ... devotion ... worship. I’m not sure what it was. He listened to her every word as if she were the Queen of England - or the Queen of Heaven for that matter. And Nella—’ She broke off.
‘What about Nella?’
‘We-ell, she’s not daft. I’m sure she caught on straight away that he’s not quite right, but, even so, she loved every minute of it.’
‘Of course she did. Would you deny her that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look, Lucy, Nella’s never going to get married, never going to have a normal life, why shouldn’t she have a devoted admirer to bring joy to her poor little heart?’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’
‘What?’
Lucy looked at Harry and wondered whether he realized that he might have miscalculated for once. ‘That Nella is never going to get married. It wasn’t just Valentino there today.’
‘No, you said her friend Constance was there and I guess the young lad was there to keep an eye on him as usual. Yes, I guessed a long time ago that he was a sort of a minder.’
‘His mother was there too.’ Lucy was pleased to see that she had managed to surprise Harry at last. ‘Not just his mother but his brother, Frank - the whole family in fact. Now, come on Harry, they’re Italian. Valentino wouldn’t have his ma along unless his intentions were serious, would he?’
‘Well, I suppose ...’
‘There’s no suppose about it. And that’s what I find disgusting.’
‘Matrimony - holy matrimony,’ Harry rolled the words around his mouth and declaimed them like a preacher, ‘the honourable state of matrimony! Disgusting?’
Lucy leaned forward on the edge of her seat. In spite of their old friendship - well, it was more than friendship to be honest - she found it difficult to say what had to be said. ‘Don’t make a joke of it. Wedding bells lead to the marriage bed and ... and ... oh, just think of it!’
Harry looked down into his glass. ‘What’s the problem, Lucy?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean! Underneath that costume you’ve concocted for her, Nella is just a little scrap of twisted bones. She looks like a strong wind could snap her in two. If that great hulk of a man gets into bed with her, acts like a husband has the right to act, it would probably kill her!’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘Of course that’s what I think. And so would any woman. Harry, you can’t let this happen!’
‘I may not be able to stop it. Supposing you’re right, supposing Valentino wants to marry her?’
‘I’m right, I’m sure of it!’
‘Well, then, what if that’s what Nella wants too?’
‘Oh, she may like the notion of it, poor little morsel, but she can’t have any idea what it would mean. Harry, you can’t allow it!’
Lucy betrayed her agitation by the way she gripped her empty glass. Harry leaned forward and took it from her hands. He placed it on the table between them. ‘Listen, Lucy, I trust your instinct about this and I think you’re right. I think the great galoot may want to marry our little sparrow—Hush!’ He raised a hand to stop her protest. ‘Listen to Harry and trust me. As I say, even if he does want to marry her - and she him - I think it would be all right.’
‘All right? How could it be?’
‘Because I knew a man like that once before.’ Harry settled back in his chair again and his eyes narrowed. ‘When I was a lad, barely left school, I worked in the circus. Did you know that, Lucy?’
Lucy nodded tersely. She had heard the story many times and she didn’t want to hear it again now.
‘Well, anyway, one of the acts, the strong man, was even bigger than Valentino and probably just as slow in the head, if not more so. He had a tiny little wife, one of the circus midgets, and all the girls used to widen their eyes and shudder and pretend to be horrified when their marital arrangements were discussed. But they had no need to be. It was common knowledge that the little woman had nothing to fear.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to be indelicate, Lucy, so you’ll have to trust me when I say that I don’t think Nella would have anything to fear either. But to set your mind at rest, if the courtship does develop that far, I’ll have a word with the lad’s mother, Madame Alvini - or perhaps it had better be his brother. Will that do?’
‘I suppose so. But—’
‘No buts, Lucy. Another drink?’
‘Well, perhaps I’d better be getting along.’
‘We could take the drinks up to my suite.’ Harry paused. ‘For old times’ sake?’
Lucy smiled. ‘Go on then.’
Frank Alvini stood at the bedside and stared down at the sleeping form of his older brother. The expression on Valentino’s face was blissful; that was the only word that Frank could think of to describe it. He had never seen him look so happy. An oil-lamp burned on the bedside table and the soft glow highlighted the classic bone structure.
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