Dreaming Out Loud (9 page)

‘Thelma!’

‘What?’

‘Go!’

‘All right!’

Thelma and Lana looked at each other and burst out laughing. Thelma hurried upstairs and she just managed to get out of the bathroom before Jack came home. Nevertheless, they were a little late, and Jack had to order a taxi.

‘Has she settled?’ Lana asked.

‘Sleeping like a baby,’ Violet said.

‘Did she eat her egg?’

‘Yes, and all the soldiers, too.’ Violet showed Lana the tray she had just brought down from Mrs Thomas’s room. ‘I popped the sleeping draught in her tea and sat with her until she dropped off.’

‘Poor baby,’ Eve said, and both Lana and Violet looked at her questioningly.

‘What are you talking about?’ Lana asked, barely concealing her irritation with the youngest of the chorus girls.

‘Well, for a start I don’t know why people say sleeping like a baby. My sister’s baby never sleeps. She cries all night. But Sally would never drop her.’

‘I didn’t drop Mrs Thomas. “Dropped of
f
” is just a figure of speech,’ Violet said.

‘I know that.’

Both Violet and Eve were laughing now, and Lana looked increasingly exasperated. ‘Pack it in, you two!’

‘Sorry,’ the two girls said in unison, but they looked at each other and went on giggling.

‘I’m going to the sitting room to listen to the wireless,’ Lana said. ‘And then I won’t have to listen to you two twittering on.’

Lana got up and hurried along to the sitting room, leaving Violet and Eve to wash the dishes, just as they had made the ham sandwiches and Mrs Thomas’s boiled egg. She was thoroughly out of sorts. She couldn’t understand why Jack had suggested that he ought to take Thelma out to dinner. But once he had, she had to go along with it and pretend that she felt just as guilty as he did. The awful thing was that she
did
feel guilty. She knew that Thelma didn’t deserve such betrayal. And yet, she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps she did. Hadn’t she trapped Jack into marrying her by making sure that her mother found them in bed together?

The one consolation tonight was that she had encouraged Thelma to wear the outfit that Jack had told her she herself looked sensational in. She hoped that every time he looked across the table he would make unfavourable comparisons.

In the kitchen her fellow lodgers were clearing up.

‘What on earth is wrong with Lana?’ Eve was astonished.

‘Don’t you know?’ Violet asked.

‘No, I don’t.’

So Violet told her.

Now

‘Go on, Kay, try it on. It looks as though it’s just your size.’ Shirley held up a grey tailored dress with modestly padded shoulders and a pencil-slim skirt.

‘Shirley, I haven’t time. The van from the film studios will be here first thing in the morning. Crack of dawn,’ Kay said.

‘This outfit is so tasteful, and so efficient-looking. It would be perfect for the office, wouldn’t it?’

Shirley took the dress from its hanger and held it up against her body. She was tall and slim. Her straight brown hair fell almost to her shoulders and was curled under in a pageboy style. Kay thought the dress might have been made for her.

‘I don’t know how you can resist these gorgeous clothes,’ Shirley said. ‘This looks as though it’s never been worn, doesn’t it?’

‘It has,’ Kay told her. ‘Lana wore it in a film,
The Second Mrs Jones
.’

‘Really? How wonderful. But how do you know that?’

‘There’s a label with all the details attached to the hanger. Here look and see.’

Shirley took the hanger from Kay. ‘So there is. Are all the clothes from her films, then?’ She slipped the dress back on to the hanger.

‘Those in the wardrobe in this room are.’

‘You mean there are wardrobes full of clothes in other rooms?’

‘They were. Full, I mean. Moira Davies, my solicitor’s secretary, arranged for a woman from Rowell’s, a posh second hand-shop, to come and take what she wanted of my godmother’s everyday clothes. When they sell them I’ll get a percentage. Luckily Mrs Rowell wanted everything. She sent a van round only an hour later. Miss Davies said that as soon as she had told Mrs Rowell that the clothes had belonged to Lana Fontaine it was a done deal.’

‘So they’re all gone?’ Shirley said. She looked disappointed.

‘Not all of them. My godmother had some clothes that she’d never worn. Miss Davies persuaded me to keep them. She said I might need them some day, although I can’t imagine when that will be. I don’t mix in the same sort of circles Lana Fontaine did.’

‘Oh, Kay, don’t say that! We’re in London now. You never know what will happen.’

‘What will happen is that I’ll be up all night packing if we don’t get started pronto.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to keep any of them? I mean, as a memento? After all, she was your godmother.’

‘What would I do with them? I have no need of bonnets or bustles, or ball gowns, have I?’

‘Oh, clever!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Bonnets, bustles, ball gowns. They all have the same first letter. That’s alliteration, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe it is, but you offered to help me, not give me an English lesson.’

Shirley looked crestfallen. ‘Was I showing off?’

‘No, not showing off. Just being a nuisance.’

‘Oh, Kay, don’t be cross with me. It’s just so exciting. I’d never been to London until I started this job, and here I am helping you sort out the costumes your godmother – a famous actress – wore in her films.’

Kay smiled at her. ‘I’m not cross, Shirley. But you know, I’ve never been to London before, either, and I hadn’t seen my godmother since I was a little girl, and I’m finding all this a little overwhelming.’

‘I shouldn’t have come today, should I? It’s just that I was at a loss what to do with myself and Aunt Mamie suggested I should visit you. She thought you might be glad of some company on a Sunday afternoon.’

‘I am. Really. If we work together we’ll be in time to have supper and listen to a concert on the wireless.’

‘Righto! So what do we do?’

‘You can start by helping me to bring those cardboard wardrobe boxes up from the dining room and then we’ll try to sort the clothes into some sort of order before putting them in.’

It was only after they’d carried the boxes upstairs and had sunk, laughing, on to the bed that Shirley said, ‘What sort of order did you mean?’

‘Heavens, I’m not sure. I’m just repeating what the wardrobe mistress told me. I should have asked her what she meant.’

They looked at each other helplessly and then Shirley said, ‘She could have meant historical order. Starting with that Maid Marian dress.’

Kay looked relieved. ‘That’ll be it!’

‘But on second thoughts . . .’

‘Tell me.’

‘I think it’s more likely to be the order of the films.’

‘But how . . . ? Oh, of course, the labels on the hangers. I’ll just check.’ A moment later Kay groaned and sat down on the bed again. ‘They’re all over the place!’

‘We’d better get started, then.’

‘Do you mind sitting in the kitchen?’ Kay asked.

‘Of course I don’t,’ Shirley said. ‘It’s lovely and warm in here.’

‘That’s the idea. But it’s not just that.’

‘What else then?’

‘You saw the sitting room when you arrived.’

Puzzled, Shirley said, ‘What’s the problem? It’s fabulous. So stylish.’

‘Yes, it is. But it’s not very cosy, is it? Not the sort of room you could relax in your old clothes in.’

‘I think I know what you mean. Your godmother was very sophisticated, very
à la mode
. The sitting room is just the place to entertain guests with cocktails and canapés, but not the place for the toast and Marmite and mugs of strong, sweet tea that we’re enjoying now.’

They smiled at each other. ‘I’m really glad you came round,’ Kay said.

‘Of course you are. Otherwise how would you have lugged those boxes down the stairs all by yoursel
f
?’

‘You know that’s not the reason.’

‘Well, I certainly hope not. Any chance of another slice of toast?’

Kay slipped two slices of bread into the electric toaster. They fell into a companionable silence. When the toast popped up, Kay noticed that Shirley was frowning down at her wristwatch.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

‘I hadn’t realised how late it was,’ Shirley replied. ‘Aunt Mamie will be getting worried. Would you mind if I phoned her?’

‘The telephone isn’t connected.’

Shirley looked disappointed. ‘I’d better go, then.’

‘Otherwise you could have stayed the night. That is, if your aunt wouldn’t mind.’

‘She’s not really my aunt, you know. I’ve just always called her that, and truth to tell, no matter how kind she’s been to me, I think she’ll be happier when I find somewhere else to stay.’ Shirley sighed. ‘But now . . .’

‘I’ll get your coat.’

Shirley smiled faintly. ‘That’s supposing we didn’t pack it with all the other clothes.’

The boxes filled the hallway. They had to squeeze past to make their way to the mirrored coat stand. Kay handed Shirley her coat and she was just buttoning it up when she said, ‘Oh, no.’

‘What is it?’

‘I thought we’d packed everything,’ Shirley said, ‘but there’s something in a garment bag on top of that box.’

‘Oh, that.’ Kay smiled. ‘That’s for you.’

‘For me?’

‘Here you are.’ Kate reached over and pulled the garment bag towards them. ‘Open the zip – just a little.’

Shirley did so. ‘Oh, you mustn’t, Kay. I can’t accept this.’

‘I don’t see why not. You said yourself it would be perfect for the office, didn’t you?’

‘I did, but . . .’

‘No buts. We can’t have you looking anything less than tastefully efficient at the BBC.’

Shirley was obviously thrilled with her present. She draped it over her arm and they battled their way laughingly past the wardrobe boxes to the front door.

‘Thanks for coming,’ Kay said.

The air in the street was bitingly cold.

‘Shut the door before you freeze to death!’ Shirley said, and she hurried off along the frosty pavements.

Kay closed the door and made her way back to the kitchen to sit by the fire.
I must get the phone reconnected
, she thought,
and I’d better find out how to get in touch with the coalman. Then there’s the milk. It would be much easier to have it delivered
.

A moment later she realised how foolish that was. She had cleared out the wardrobes and arranged for someone to come from the auction house. She had not yet sorted out the photographs and another box containing various documents, but she had already decided that if she ran out of time she would have them shipped home – although she knew her mother would not be pleased about that.

There was absolutely no point in ordering milk and coal and having the telephone connected. Unless . . .

A little later, lying in bed, she let herself very cautiously explore the path she should take. She was suddenly filled with excitement. She knew what she wanted to do, but how was she to make it possible?

Chapter Eight

Mid-November

‘It’s all arranged with your landlady, Kay. If I wasn’t so worried I would suggest that we go out and celebrate.’ Moira was frowning anxiously.

‘Well,
there’s
a mixed message,’ Kay said. ‘Tell me, what would we be celebrating and why are you worried?’

Moira put the cover on her typewriter and tidied some of the papers she hadn’t dealt with into the ‘In’ tray. She looked up at Kay and sighed.

‘We’d be celebrating the fact that you have decided to stay in London. From the little you’ve told me about your life at home, I think you’ve made the right decision. However, I can’t help worrying about how you’re going to manage financially. Kathleen has agreed that you can take over the tenancy of the house, but predictably she has put up the rent.’

‘I still have most of the money Lana left me.’

‘No, you haven’t – you gave half of it away, remember?’

‘All right, but I haven’t spent very much. I must have about nine hundred pounds in the bank.’

‘I know that seems a lot, Kay, but it won’t last forever. You’ll be paying twenty pounds a month rent for the house, and then you’ll have all your living expenses. What will you do when the money runs out?’

‘I’ll get a job, of course. I won’t wait until the money has gone – I’ll get a job as soon as I can. Did you really think I would sit around doing nothing?’

‘Of course I didn’t. In fact, I guessed that’s what you would say.’

‘So why are you worried?’

‘Because I’m not sure what sort of job you can expect to get. You’re a good-looking young woman, you speak very well, but you have no experience of the sort of job you’ll need to bring in a decent wage.’

‘You mean some sort of office job?’

‘Perhaps. However, you are now twenty-two, and since you left school all you have done is work in a grocery shop.’

‘There are plenty of grocery shops in London.’

Moira smiled tiredly. ‘Of course there are. In fact, I could probably put a word in for you at Carter’s downstairs. Maybe it’s just because I wanted better for you.’

‘As I told a dear friend of mine, there’s nothing wrong with working in a grocer’s shop. I actually like it.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do. And by the way, there’s no need to worry about the rent,’ Kay said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do you think my landlady would allow me to take in lodgers?’

Moira looked thoughtful. ‘I don’t see why not. Although she would probably see that as a reason to put your rent up yet again.’ They looked at each other and laughed. ‘But, Kay, would you really be happy taking strangers in?’

‘I don’t have to take in strangers. Remember I told you about Shirley, the girl who’s staying at Brook Lodge?’

‘Mrs Price’s niece?’

‘That’s right. Well, Shirley only meant to stay there until she found a room to rent.’

‘And she would like to move in with you?’

‘She would, and even better than that, she’s found another girl for me. Well, not exactly a girl. Jane Mullen is probably in her thirties. She’s a widow, but she wasn’t happily married. She’s sold her house in Yorkshire and has come to London to make a new start.’

‘My goodness. How do you know all this? Have you been grilling the poor woman?’

‘Not at all. In fact, I haven’t even met her yet.’

‘Then how—’

‘Mrs Price. Shirley says she has a way of getting people to talk. Shirley went home one night to find her aunt and Mrs Mullen in the residents’ lounge. Mrs Mullen was crying and Mrs Price was comforting her. Apparently Mrs Price’s husband deserted her not long after he was demobbed from the army. As for Shirley, she had always believed that she and the boy next door were made for each other, but found out that he was walking out with her best friend. Shirley, her aunt and Mrs Mullen ended up drinking a bottle of port wine between them and complaining about the lack of any decent men in the world.’

‘They could be right about that,’ Moira said, half seriously, and Kay noticed how she glanced towards the door that led to Mr Butler’s office. Moira saw that Kay was watching her and she shrugged. ‘It’s a long story, and it’s mostly my own fault,’ she said.

Kay was intrigued. She had never met Mr Butler, and she sometimes wondered if she ever would. He was not in the office today. Moira had told her he’d had to go to the country to deal with the affairs of an old client.

‘Well, it seems as though you’ve worked everything out,’ Moira said. ‘You know, I feel partly responsible for you, Kay. Lana was my friend and you are her goddaughter. When Lana made her will, she told me how fond of you she was and said that if ever I believed it necessary, I should look out for you.’

Kay thought she knew what was coming.

‘So, you see, I’d like to meet these two young women. Would you mind?’

Kay laughed. ‘Of course not. I’ll ask Shirley to arrange with Mrs Price for us all to have dinner at Brook Lodge one night soon. My treat. Will that suit you?’

‘That’s fine. But right now I’m going to phone Domino’s and ask that good-looking rogue, Nico, to keep us a table for tonight.’

It was Saturday, and although Shirley had asked Kay to join her and Jane for lunch at Brook Lodge, Kay told them she needed some time on her own to get the house ready. But before she started work she sat down near the fire with the letters that had arrived that morning. She opened the envelope of the letter she wanted to read first. She had recognised the beautiful writing and knew that there would be nothing in the letter to upset her.

25th November 1949

My Dear Kay,

Although I will miss you, I am pleased that you have decided to stay in London. In spite of what Miss Davies has said, I am sure you will be able to find a good position, and you could always consider evening classes.

Meanwhile, how exciting to be setting up home with your two new friends. From what you told me about them in your letter, it sounds as if you will all get on very well with each other. Shirley’s job as secretary to a drama producer at the BBC sounds very interesting. As you know, I love listening to
Saturday Night Theatre,
and I don’t mind admitting I listen to
Appointment with Fear
, not because I like to be frightened but because I’m partial to Valentine Dyall. Who wouldn’t be? If your friend Shirley works on anything exciting, please let me know.

Your other prospective lodger, Jane Mullen, must consider herself very lucky to have found two friends like Shirley and you. From what you tell me, the poor woman has had a terrible time of it. Alone and frightened, with nobody to turn to – you wouldn’t believe that now we are about to reach the middle of the twentieth century a father could be so unforgiving. He sounds like a character from a Victorian melodrama.

It’s just as well you made your decision before you sent the furniture off to auction, isn’t it? From the sound of it, you will have a comfortable and beautifully furnished home. I am sure you have made the right decision to put off sorting through Miss Fontaine’s photographs and papers until after you have settled in to your new way of life. Once you get Christmas and New Year over, it will be a job for the long dark nights until Spring returns.

Kay, don’t forget to enjoy yourself. Go to the theatre, to concerts and to the cinema with your friends. Buy yourself some fashionable clothes. Perhaps you will think me frivolous to suggest this, but I know you well enough to trust that you will not become a spendthrift. It’s just that I always thought that a girl with your intelligence and personality deserved more than the rather humdrum life you were living here in Northridge Bay.

As for me, I can’t remember whether I told you that the Sampsons’ son, young Norrie, is now coming round to take the orders. He is very kind and has taken it upon himself to ask me if I need him to run any errands. He tells me that you are a great miss at the shop and that many of the customers ask about you.

My sister Sarah has written to say that she is looking forward to coming to me as usual at Christmas and that she will be taking me to a pantomime in Newcastle. I am to choose which of the four theatres we should go to!

Well, Kay, thank you for finding the time to write to me as often as you do. I hope you don’t find my letters dull in comparison to the life you are leading now.

I wish you and your new venture well.

Yours sincerely,

Jane Bennet

Kay put the letter back into the envelope and poured herself another cup of tea. In spite of her good intentions, so far this morning she had done nothing at all, save light the fire in the kitchen, have a breakfast of tea and toast and marmalade, and then sit in the chintz-covered old chair that looked a little out of place in the streamlined kitchen, to read the letters which had been posted in Northridge Bay the day before.

She hadn’t even bothered to get dressed, but she was cosy enough in her very unglamorous pyjamas and the lovely pink, fluffy wrap-around dressing gown she had found hanging on the back of one of the bedroom doors. It must have been Lana’s, Kay thought, and in this instance, sophisticated film star Lana Fontaine had sacrificed glamour for sheer old-fashioned comfort.

Kay had slipped it on without thinking and found that she didn’t feel at all uncomfortable about wearing a dead woman’s robe. She couldn’t understand why she had overlooked the dressing gown when she was clearing the house of Lana’s clothes.
Perhaps she made me overlook it until she meant me to find it
, Kay thought,
and if so, she would want me to wear it.
Although imaginative, Kay had never been in the least superstitious, so she tried to suppress these irrational thoughts. But she didn’t take the dressing gown off.

Now she pulled one of the wooden chairs over to use as a table. She put her cup of tea on it, and slipping her hand into her pocket, drew out the two letters she had not read yet. She looked at the envelopes critically, and reluctantly opened the slimmest one first.

It contained only one sheet of paper. It was from Tony.

25th November 1949

Dear Kay,

So you have decided to stay in London. Thank you at least for writing to tell me, so that I was able to inform Julie that I already knew. She actually came to my house to tell me the news. You make no mention in your letter of coming home to visit or of wanting to see me again, so I suppose I must assume that I have been given the brush-off.

I think I am supposed to thank you for all the lovely times we had together, but, looking back, I’m not sure if they were in any way special. And if you are expecting me to plead with you to come home or to hurry to London to persuade you in person, you will be disappointed.

However, at least I must recover my manners in time to wish you well.

Yours sincerely,

Tony

Kay lowered the letter and saw that her hands were shaking. She was overcome by a mixture of rage and regret. Tony was hurt, that was obvious, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to admit to having any real feelings for her. That had been the problem all the time they had gone out together. He had shown every sign of being keen, and yet time and again he had drawn back just when she had believed he might be going to ask her to marry him.

She thought the second paragraph unnecessarily cruel, claiming that they had never had any especially enjoyable times together. Did he really believe that she wanted him to plead with her to come home? Her anger faded when she realised that Tony, never having admitted to himself what he felt about her, was probably baffled to find himself hurt. His pride was hurt because he wouldn’t expect any girl to finish with him, and his feelings were hurt because, after all, he may have had some deeper feelings for her.

However, it was the last paragraph, the line about recovering his manners, that made her cry. It showed that his sense of humour was surfacing sufficiently to make him realise how discourteous his letter had been.
Oh, Tony
, she thought, as she began to laugh through her tears,
I can’t stay angry with you, and even though you believe our times together weren’t special for you, they were for me. But that still won’t save your letter from going into the fire!

Drying her eyes with a clean rose-fragranced handkerchief she found in the pocket of the dressing gown, Kay settled back into the comfort of the armchair. She sipped her tea and paused to wonder what she
had
expected of Tony. She realised she had been unfair. I should have told him outright that I didn’t think our affair – if that’s what it was – was leading anywhere. Was I secretly hoping that he would come and carry me home again? I don’t think so. Maybe I have been as indecisive as he was.

Thank goodness I decided to stay in London, she thought. And thank Lana for making it possible. If I had stayed in Northridge Bay Tony and I might have wasted years of our lives drifting along never being able to commit to each other – and never quite knowing why.

Kay looked long at the next envelope before opening it. She had recognised the writing and had been surprised to see that it was from Julie; the last person she would have expected to write to her.

25th November 1949

Dear Kay,

Mum has asked me to answer your letter. She’s too upset to write herself. She says that you are doing completely the wrong thing staying in Lana Fontaine’s house. She thinks that if you must stay in London you should find somewhere else. If you sold all the clothes and the furnishings etc. you would have enough to set yourself up somewhere fresh. Somewhere that has nothing to do with the ties of the past. I thought that was a strange thing to say, but Mum was in a proper state about it all.

Well anyway, she’s got the new house to look forward to. There’s even a chance we could be in by Christmas. If we are, she says I can have a party. Just a discreet little affair for my friends from college. There’s to be no loud music or dancing, because she wants the neighbours to think well of us. (In other words, she doesn’t want them to think we’re common!)

We’ll not be too far from where the Chalmers live. I thought I might invite Tony to the party. After all, he’s fancy free! I called round to tell him that you weren’t coming back, you know, but he told me you’d already written to him, and he thought it was just as well, because he’d been worried for some time that you might be taking him too seriously.