Starlight (30 page)

Addie's fine blue eyes rested on Jess's face with such unexpected shrewdness, Jess leaped to her feet.

‘Don't look like that, Ma. There'll be no second chances for me!'

‘There's your doorbell,' Addie said calmly. ‘Better see who it is.'

It was Ben.

He was wearing his long black winter overcoat, with a cap over his hair and a scarf muffling his features, but it was still painfully obvious that Marguerite had spoken to him. Everything about him spelled shock and dismay, from his drooped shoulders, to his gloved hands stretched out towards Jess, as though pleading for help.

‘Jess, may I come in?' he whispered.

‘Oh, Ben!'

Drawing him into the house, she unwound his scarf and gazed sorrowfully into his face.

‘My mother's here, Ben, but she'll be going soon.'

‘So, Marguerite's told her too?' He gave a desolate smile. ‘And we both had to come here to see you?'

‘Jess, is it Rusty?' Addie asked, coming into the hallway, but stopping short at the sight of Ben. ‘Oh, it's you, Ben.' Her voice wavered. ‘How are you, then?'

‘All right, thanks, Ma.'

All right? They stared at him, then Addie began the complicated task of dressing for the outside weather, pulling on rubber galoshes over her shoes, buttoning up her coat, tying on a headscarf.

‘I'm away, Jess,' she said in a low voice. ‘I'll be in touch. Better give this laddie a drink, eh?'

‘I have no drink in the house, Ma. He's welcome to a cup of tea or coffee.'

‘I don't want any tea, or coffee!' Ben cried. ‘Oh, God, I don't want anything!'

But as Jess opened the door for her mother, he put his hand on Addie's arm.

‘Shall I walk you to the tram? The pavements are treacherous out there.'

‘Och, no, but it's good of you to offer, Ben.' Addie took a sniff of the ice-cold air. ‘Maybe too cold for more snow tonight. Don't worry about me – I've been walking on ice like this since before you two were born.'

For a moment, she looked at Ben, then pressed his hand, and throwing her scarf more firmly round her neck and pulling down her hat, set off for her tram.

Fifty-Six

‘Think she'll be all right?' Ben asked, as Jess showed him into the kitchen where a one-bar electric fire was burning, for how much longer she didn't know. She was still waiting for cuts.

‘Oh, yes. Ma's good on her legs, always has been. You don't mind the kitchen, Ben? There's no coal for the fire next door.'

‘Don't mind the kitchen?' He threw his overcoat over a chair. ‘Jess, what's there for me to mind, now that Marguerite's going to leave me?'

‘I feel so bad, Ben. I feel terrible. Because you asked me about her and I said everything was all right, but it wasn't. I didn't know, though, what was happening.'

‘Of course you didn't.' He lit a cigarette. ‘Who did? She kept the secret very well.'

‘When did she tell you?'

‘Today. At twelve thirty precisely. I was getting ready for the matinee when she came into the box, said she wanted to talk to me. I'd seen her at breakfast, of course, when she'd never said a word.'

‘She told you at work?' Jess cried. ‘Why? Why at work?'

‘I suppose she reasoned that I'd behave better if I thought there were people around. Not so likely to throw a fit and chew the carpet. Isn't that what they said Hitler did, when upset?'

‘I can't believe it, Ben. To tell you at work . . . Why, that must have been awful! To be told something like that, to be so shocked, and have to keep on . . .'

‘I didn't keep on,' he said quietly, studying his cigarette. ‘As I was on my way to work, I'd seen Rusty going into the Lion in Princes Street. As soon as Marguerite had gone, I ran out and brought him in, told him he'd have to do all the performances for me today.'

‘And he'd been drinking?'

‘No, it was OK, he'd just got there, said he was fine about standing in, hoped I'd feel better soon.'

‘But why didn't you come to me, Ben?'

‘I couldn't go to you. Not then. All I wanted was to get out of the box and walk, and that's what I did. God knows where I went. All round the West End. Into the Haymarket, I think, then back into town and down into Inverleith Park. Saw folk skating on the pond. Saw a chap fall down. Hurt his arm. Probably had to go to casualty.'

They were silent for a while, until Ben put out his cigarette and raised his eyes to Jess.

‘Did you see this fellow Marguerite's found?' he asked roughly. ‘This Squadron Leader?'

‘I saw him on the station platform in Glasgow.'

‘Didn't tell me.'

‘How could I, Ben? How could I?'

He shrugged. ‘What's he like then?'

‘Has handlebar moustaches.'

‘Ha! Perfect caricature, eh? Of an RAF officer.'

‘You were an officer, Ben.'

‘I wasn't a Squadron Leader. I didn't have a father with a law practice to give me a job. I didn't have the sort of money he's got.'

‘You think Marguerite's only interested in money?'

‘Don't you?'

‘She did say . . . she did tell me you two had drifted apart. Didn't you say you hadn't been getting on?'

‘So, next thing, we're looking at divorce?'

Jess shook her head hopelessly. ‘I don't know what to say, Ben. I'm still not believing it's happening.'

‘How do you think I feel?' he asked, lowering his voice. ‘I'm reeling.'

Suddenly, he stretched out his hand and took Jess's.

‘But not for long, Jess. Oh, no, not for long.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean, I'm going to get over this and quickly, too. If Marguerite can play this game, so can I. She doesn't want me, I don't want her. It's as simple as that.'

Oh, if only it were, Jess thought, as he put on his outdoor clothes and, like Addie, took a look at the outside weather.

‘Not too bad. No snow. I'll get home, then, Jess.' He paused. ‘No need to worry about meeting Marguerite, that's one good thing.'

‘Why, where will she be?'

‘She's moved herself to your mother's. Didn't Addie say?'

‘I'm sure she doesn't know!'

‘Nice surprise for her, then, when she gets home.'

His eyes on Jess softened.

‘Thanks for listening,' he said hesitantly. ‘Never thought, did I, when I offered you my shoulder once that I'd be using yours?' He kissed her cheek. ‘Go in, Jess. It may not be snowing, but it's arctic out here.'

‘Take care!' she cried, and waited till he was swallowed up in the darkness.

For once, Rusty came home directly he'd left the cinema, disturbing Jess's endless roundabout of thoughts as she went over and over her talk with Ben. It had meant something, that he'd come to her in the end. Come to her for solace, as the only person, perhaps, that he could allow to see into his heart. How much did it all mean? No one could answer that.

‘Did you find out what was wrong with Ben?' she asked, as Rusty sat down to a bowl of soup.

‘Seemed under the weather.'

‘Marguerite is going to leave him.'

Rusty's spoon halted in mid-air. ‘She's what?'

‘She's met someone else. Told Ben today, just before the matinee.'

‘I don't believe it!'

‘It's true. She used to know this man in the war, when she was in the WAAFs. Then they met again.'

‘And he's got more to offer than Ben?'

‘Why do you say that?'

‘Lucky guess.'

Jess turned her head, unwilling in spite of it all to hear her sister criticized.

‘Come on,' Rusty murmured. ‘You know what she's like.'

‘I don't want to talk about it.'

‘Fair enough. I'm for my bed, anyway.'

Same old story, Jess thought, even though Rusty's eyes were not so glazed as usual. He'd be out like a light, she'd be lying awake, riding her roundabout again, eventually getting up and sitting in the kitchen.

‘Might as well get ready, then,' she told Rusty. ‘I'll heat the hot water bottle before I do anything else.'

‘Very cold tonight,' he agreed, and they went to bed. Saved more talking, thought Jess.

Fifty-Seven

The long hard winter finally gave way to spring and then to summer, and if the rationing was no easier, at least the weather was better. Everyone, including the staff at the Princes, felt more cheerful, with even Ben seeming to cast aside the air of darkness that had held him after his wife's departure, and to be more willing to smile.

All sympathy, of course, had gone to him, rather than Marguerite, whose behaviour most of her colleagues found quite shocking. To leave a good husband like Ben for a great soft fellow like Guy Powrie! Why, it was obvious she'd done it for his money and position, and the fact that she was going to have to wait years for a divorce made it all the more scandalous.

Not that Marguerite was around to know what people thought of her, for almost as soon as she left Ben, she left the cinema cafe, too.

‘Oh, yes,' she told Addie and Jess, ‘Guy doesn't want me to work as a waitress any more, so I've handed in my notice. He's going to find me a little job in his office, he says.'

‘Office work for you, Marguerite?' Addie cried. ‘Why, you were never one for paperwork!'

‘I'll be more of a receptionist, Ma. Guy thinks I'll be quite good at that.'

‘And how long are you planning to stay with me, then? I don't think it's right, Marguerite, I don't, and that's the truth. You're a married woman, you should be with Ben, until things can be made legal.'

Marguerite hesitated, glancing quickly at her mother, and then at Jess, before lowering her eyes.

‘Thing is, Ma, I've taken this little flat. They're hard to get, but Guy found it for me. I'm moving in next week.'

‘A flat?' Addie cried. ‘And you never said? What on earth would you want your own flat for, at this stage?'

‘Well, I know you don't want me at home again, so I needed a place to stay until we can get on with the divorce, don't I?'

‘Which is going to take years,' Jess put in. ‘I told you it wasn't easy getting a divorce.'

‘And in the meantime, Guy Powrie comes calling when you're on your own in this flat?' Addie cried. ‘Marguerite, that'll be worse than you living here. I'm no' having it, I tell you, I'm no' having you moving into a flat paid for by him and expecting us to believe that there's no hanky-panky going on, as though we were all born yesterday!'

‘Guy isn't paying for the flat, I am, out of what I make at the office. And I'm sure I don't know what you mean by hanky-panky. Guy's very correct. Everything will be right and proper.'

‘Right and proper?' Her mother laughed. ‘Hasn't shown much sign of being right and proper so far, has he?'

Marguerite flushed brightly, but could think of no reply.

‘So, how long will this arrangement go on, then? When will you get your divorce?'

‘I can't say. Guy's father will do what he can, but seems I'm the guilty party because I left Ben, so they'll have to go for desertion as cause and that takes time.'

‘The guilty party?' Addie's lip trembled. ‘Oh, Marguerite! What a terrible thing it is, to hear you call yourself that.'

‘Well, Scots divorces aren't like English ones, seemingly. There you can just send your man off to a hotel with some woman and there you are, you've got your divorce. Unless they can prove it's a put up job.'

‘Why should Ben do that for you?' Jess cried. ‘He's the innocent party. Why should he pretend he isn't?'

‘He's no' doing anything for me, is he?' Marguerite sighed. ‘Look, I'm really sorry if I've hurt him, but there it is – when something's dead, you can't bring it back to life, can you?'

Oh, what terrible words to use to end a marriage, Jess thought, walking slowly back to work. And knew she was not thinking of Marguerite and Ben.

Though Ben appeared to be getting over Marguerite's betrayal remarkably well, Jess was sure that underneath his easy manner, the wound still throbbed. He never admitted it to her, though they sometimes met for a lunchtime snack, or just a walk in the summer air, but she had the feeling he liked to be with her because with her he needn't put on his usual act. They were at ease with each other, and that meant a lot.

Strolling back from the gardens one late August day, they stopped outside a display window of Logie's, one of the city's grandest stores.

‘See that?' Ben asked.

‘What?'

‘That television set.'

Jess studied the large walnut cabinet housing what appeared to be a very small screen, which at that time of day was blank.

‘What about it?'

‘Not realize you're looking at the future?'

She met his dark eyes. ‘I know what you're talking about, but I don't go along with it. Television isn't going to close our cinemas.'

‘Not all, no. But maybe in the future quite a lot. They say the number of TV sets sold is going up every year, and the industry's still new. It'll improve – be able to offer more and more.'

‘More than a lovely comfortable cinema, with films in colour on a screen you can see? I don't believe it. Look at the titchy little screens the televisions have. They just can't compare.'

‘Yes, but folk have to go out to the cinema, don't they? Television, they can see at home. News, sport, drama, even our old films.' Ben shook his head. ‘I don't say it's a threat here at the moment, but I think they're already worrying about it in America. You'll have read all the trade articles, I suppose?'

‘Of course I have, but I still believe there'll always be an audience for the cinema. What about the young people who don't want to stay at home? They need somewhere to go.'