The Town in Bloom (20 page)

I found Zelle, in her madonna-blue dressing-gown, reading the Bible. She said she had hated it as a child – ‘I hated everything to do with chapel. But it’s different now.’

We sat together on her window-seat and she told me about Adrian Crossway’s visit. He had been marvellous – ‘Goodness simply radiates from him, though he doesn’t talk about it much or keep mentioning God. Somehow he makes goodness seem fun – we kept on laughing. I wish you could have seen him.’

I said I had and he had seemed as happy with her as she was with him. ‘He looked terrifically interested in you, Zelle.’

‘He’d be interested in anyone who wants to be good. I don’t flatter myself it’s more than that, though he did say that even at our first meeting he’d felt we were going to be friends. He’s coming to London again on Saturday and we’re going to this place in the East End, and then I’m having dinner with him. And soon I’m going down to stay at the inn, so that I can go to his Harvest Thanksgiving Service. He says the church will look lovely.’

Who was I to decide she wasn’t a suitable friend – or even a wife – for a clergyman? Particularly as I wasn’t religious. I tried to sound enthusiastic. ‘You’ll enjoy that, won’t you?’

She gave me a quick glance. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve the right to do it now. I’ve given Bill up.’

‘Zelle! When?’

‘Tonight. I was due to meet him at the flat. It was awful.’

It certainly sounded awful. She had so disliked the idea of leaving the Club that she had asked Bill if she might keep her room on and only go to the flat when he could be with her. ‘And he didn’t mind a bit – he was glad I’d made some friends. But of course he wanted me to stay on at the flat for the night. Well, I’d expected that and I thought it would be all right. I’m fond of him and I’ve never – well,
minded
. But I couldn’t go through with it, I simply couldn’t. And I never will again.’

I asked her if she’d told Bill that and she said she’d tried to but he’d kept on saying it would all come right. ‘At least, he said that after I swore there wasn’t anyone else, which there isn’t in the way he means. I just said I wanted to live a decent life.’ There was a sudden glint of humour in her eyes. ‘You should have heard me piling that on. You see, I meant to make him feel guilty so that he’d put my bank account straight. And he did ruin me – as I gently reminded him.’

‘Goodness, do people still talk about girls being ruined?’

‘They do where I come from,’ said Zelle. ‘Anyway, poor old Bill got properly harrowed and said I wasn’t to worry about anything. And he’d go on paying my allowance and be very, very patient. So I relaxed a bit. And then
suddenly—! Patient! I had a free fight to get out of the flat. I’ll never go back there. I’ll never see him again. It’s finished.’

‘But what will you do – without an allowance?’

‘I’ll get a job. Perhaps Adrian can get me one. I shall tell him on Saturday that I’ve lost all my money.’

‘Won’t you tell him about Bill?’

‘No, never. I couldn’t bear to disillusion him. He thinks I’m good – he said so, today, when I was telling him I longed to be. He said, “The longing is the goodness, and one can see that in your eyes.” Wasn’t that wonderful?’

I thought it embarrassing, when said during tea in the Club lounge. But perhaps Adrian Crossway had not said it as emotionally as Zelle did. I felt sure her longing for goodness was mainly a longing for him, whether she knew it or not. Then I accused myself of cynicism and did my best to be sympathetic.

We went on talking until nearly two in the morning; that is, she did, with very little prompting from me. Again and again she went over the scene in the flat, telling me what she had said and what poor old Bill had said. (I discovered he was nearly sixty.) I found her hard-headedness about Bill and sex, combined with her emotionalism about Adrian and goodness, a bit dislikeable; but I still liked
her
, and felt sorry for her. I also felt sorry for Adrian Crossway and I could not imagine how things would work out.

At last, to my relief, she asked me to go. She said she wanted to read some more of the Bible before she went to sleep.

On my way downstairs I thought how extraordinary it was that Molly, Lilian, Zelle and I were all at the same time
involved in difficult love affairs. But I soon saw it wasn’t in the least extraordinary. As I went along dimly lit landings, past the doors of rooms and the archways leading to ‘villages’ of cubicles, I could think of any amount of girls sleeping within them who were involved in love affairs, few of them satisfactory. Words dropped into my mind: ‘It is our time of life for them.’

Then, for a philosophical moment, I tried to project myself into a future when I should be as old as the oldest Club member, whose room I was then passing. (She was around sixty, a cheerful soul who enjoyed half-crown flutters on horses.) But I hastily returned to the present, finding the thought of aged peace unattractive; and knowing that, whatever the agonies, I would not willingly have skipped one day of my time of life.

After our midnight session on the roof I had expected Lilian to want more confidential talks, but she showed no sign of it. And though she, Molly and I always exchanged words over the cubicle tops while we had breakfast, the words had become fewer. We weren’t at all unfriendly but it seemed that none of us welcomed questions or wanted to volunteer information.

The day after Zelle kept me up so late I fell asleep after breakfast and woke only in time to get down for lunch. Molly and Lilian were out. I wondered if Lilian would be spending the afternoon at the flat. Then I tried to get my mind off that subject; but even if I had been able to, it would have been brought back to it in the evening, by a talk I had with Eve Lester.

She had been out of the office settling some problem in the dress-circle bar. When she came back she said: ‘I’d better tell you – before you pick up some gossip; the whole theatre’s buzzing with it. But perhaps you know already. I mean about Lilian and Mr Crossway.’

I said I did know and she asked me how. ‘Brice promised not to tell you. Was it one of the programme girls?’

‘No, it was Lilian herself.’

‘Well, one can’t expect her to be discreet when he isn’t. I suppose she’s cock-a-hoop.’

There was a hard note in Eve’s voice which was not like her. So I told her how unhappy Lilian was.

Eve’s tone softened. ‘Poor kid, one ought not to decide girls are hard just because they look it. Funny how hardness attracts him these days. Perhaps it makes him feel less guilty.’

‘
Does
he feel guilty?’

‘Well, not morally. But he minds hurting people and I think he tries to protect himself by choosing hard women and making it clear that he doesn’t really care for them – which often makes them keener than ever, poor devils. But I can’t fuss about Lilian’s future miseries. How’s this affecting
you
?’

‘She hasn’t taken anything that was mine.’

‘And won’t,’ said Eve. ‘He’ll go on being fond of you after he’s fallen for, and tired of, any number of Lilians. I just wanted you to know.’

I thanked her and then sat quietly while she talked about him, mainly excusing him, saying his susceptibility to women was part of his equipment as an actor, and that his affairs were a form of stimulant – which he could no more resist than some men could resist drink. She told me the theatre staff always got to know and heartily approved – ‘Except Brice, of course; he’s always furious – but he’s furious about almost everything Mr Crossway does. The others think of it as part of a romantic Don Juan-Casanova story and like father, like son; though the old man was much more dashing, often ran several affairs at once. Well, there it is and I’m thankful you’re being so sensible about it.’

She wouldn’t have said this had she known I had convinced myself that neither Lilian nor her successors could prevent my Last Act from crowning my play as I wished it to be crowned.

The next day – the Thursday of that memorable week – Lilian and I had lunch together at the Club. She told me Molly had just departed carrying an overnight case. ‘And when I asked her where she was going she said, “Mind your own business, child.” So I suppose she’s off with Hal and I bet it wrecks everything. But I’ve too much on my mind to worry about her. If you knew…!’

I thought I soon should, but then Zelle joined us; and as she did not know about Lilian’s problems and Lilian did not know about hers we only talked about Molly’s, which we all knew about. Lilian and I soon went off to the theatre – it was matinée day – and the bus was no place for confidences. But after we got off Lilian asked me if I ever prayed. I said I tried not to, but sometimes one could not resist a vague ‘please make it all right, God’. She said: ‘Well, mention
me
to him, will you – just for the next few days? Believe me, I need it.’

I asked her if she was praying herself, and she said she was half demented with it – ‘There’s a voice in my head that goes on all the time, saying “Please, please, please” to someone somewhere. I’d love to talk about it but I daren’t. It might be unlucky.’

That afternoon I worked in the Throne Room. Eve had rescued a play from the scripts turned down by the official play-reader and was convinced Mr Crossway ought to read it. But it was very badly typed. So she had asked me to re-type it and set it out properly, fitting the work in when
I could. Its hard-up young author had recently called on us and I had said I would get my copies – I was taking carbons – finished soon. I have reason to remember that job as, only a few days later, it altered the course of my life. (This was more than it did for the life of its author as the play was never produced; though he did eventually have some success.)

But at the moment I was merely thankful to be on my own with interesting work to occupy my mind, though it was not too occupied to prevent my watching Lilian’s
last-act
scene through the spy-hole. She played it exactly as she had been taught, without one changed intonation. But Rex had certainly changed his performance. He made it clear that he was attracted by her. This actually improved the scene and did not detract from the scene which followed. I wondered if he had changed deliberately or if he did not realise what he was revealing. Either way, it would be a change noticed by Brice Marton or anyone watching from the wings. No wonder the theatre knew of his interest in Lilian.

When I got back to the Club that night I went to my cubicle without going to Zelle’s room. Lilian, too, skipped the Veda toast session. She and I talked a few minutes, lamenting over Molly’s empty cubicle. Then Lilian said, ‘Don’t forget. Pray, pray, pray!’ And though I dimly felt that what benefited her might not benefit me, I dutifully did pray.

Nothing special happened at the theatre next day – that is, nothing special happened to me; plenty was happening to others and doubtless Eve knew about it by the evening. Had I been in the office she might have told me, but I was
shut away with my scripts except when I came out for coffee and then she was not there. I worked on until the curtain was down, when she looked in on me to say she was going home and would I close the office when I left? I said she looked tired and she admitted she had a headache.

I walked home and intended to go straight to bed but there was a note in my cubicle from Lilian saying, ‘Come up quickly – marvellous news about Moll Byblow. And I’m happy too – but not a word about that until we can talk privately.’

When I opened the door of Zelle’s room I had a sudden memory of my first sight of it. Now, as then, Zelle was on the window-seat, Lilian in the armchair and Molly in front of the gas fire making toast. Now, as then, I sat down on the bed. But my mood was very different, for then I had come back from being made love to in the dimly lit street in Hampstead.

Molly had already told her story, but was more than willing to tell it again. She and Hal had, the previous day, driven a long way into the country and gone to a small hotel. From the outset Hal had been almost silent, Molly embarrassed and miserable. They had barely exchanged a word during the drive or at tea in a lounge where people stared at them.

‘We didn’t go up to the bedroom until after tea,’ said Molly, ‘and then poor old Hal did try to be a bit more cheerful. He said, “Well, this is very jolly,” but soon relapsed into gloom and sort of whistled through his teeth all the time we unpacked. He put out his pyjamas and I put out my nightgown. He looked at the nightgown and said, “Jolly, what?” then quickly looked away from it. I said
what about a walk before dinner and he seemed quite pleased at that idea so we went out and traipsed round the village. He kept saying it was jolly pretty and I kept agreeing. Then I noticed the huge figure of a man carved in the chalk of a hill, so I said what about going to have a look at it? Hal said jolly good but it was some way off so we’d need to go in the car – which we did, and drove to the foot of the hill. Then we walked. It was steep and Hal kept pulling me up and saying “Ooops a daisy”. I can’t remember that he said anything else till we got up to the chalk man.’

Molly explained that the chalk man only looked like a man when viewed from the distance. Close to, all she saw were white paths deeply cut in the grass. Anyway, she was too puffed to be much interested so she just flopped down by one of the paths to get her breath. Hal sat down too, and they both admired the view; and then they said nothing for so long that Molly felt she really must try to make conversation.

So she began to talk about the chalk man, asking Hal if he thought he was prehistoric – ‘I mean the man, not Hal of course. He said it was jolly likely but he wasn’t much of a one for any kind of history. Then I thought I’d try to puzzle out the shape the chalk paths made, so I opened my lorgnette and set to work. I made out his head and his two arms and his body – they were higher up the hill than we were – and I found his legs, which were lower than we were. And then, my dears, I found that at the top of his legs there was just everything there; usually it’s down there only it was
up
there and wildly exaggerated – unless prehistoric men were very extraordinary, which
they well may have been. Of course I realise they didn’t mean to be indecent but you would think that, since those days, someone would have let the grass grow tactfully or carved out some tiny pants – though they’d have to be enormous pants, really. And the awful thing was that I’d plonked myself down beside the most indecent path of all.’

I asked if Hal had noticed this and she said he had and she discovered that he thought she’d done it on purpose. ‘Just as I was gazing at where we were sitting, he said he thought he’d better take me back to London – because, though he quite understood I was a modern girl who wanted to try things out, I’d now got him so nervous that he didn’t think he’d give satisfaction, not that he’d been found wanting up to now.’

Then there had been a period of wild misunderstanding, with Molly accusing Hal of accusing her of being sex-mad and Hal not even denying it – ‘Though he said he was all for it,
within reason
.’ And then the truth had gradually come out that she’d feared he didn’t want to marry her and she had been trying to show him he needn’t.

‘Of course it was frightfully complicated,’ said Molly, ‘and the more I explained, the less sense it made. But he finally
saw
– and said he’d like to wring Lilian’s neck for putting the idea into my mind, not that she meant to. And then he was marvellous, and we laughed and laughed about the chalk man. And then we quietened down and watched the sunset and Hal actually said he loved me – which he’s never managed to get out before. And I said, me too, right from the beginning. And he said him, too, right from the beginning. And then he said he’d been a
fool and I said, no, I had. Really, you’d have loved it, Mouse, because we were practically poetic.’

I asked where they went for the night.

‘Oh, back to the hotel,’ said Molly. ‘Hal said that was quite all right, now that he understood. And everything was blissful – anyway, it will be. I did get an
inkling
.’

They were to be married as soon as possible. ‘And we both want
hundreds
of children,’ said Molly. ‘Now I must concentrate on toast-making. I’m ravenous.’

She knelt in front of the gas fire with her two long red plaits dangling down her back. The quality of her happiness went particularly well with toast-making and toast-eating. Lilian was far more excited and though she talked only about Molly I could have guessed – even without her note – that she was excited in her own right. Zelle said very little. I wondered if she was thinking about seeing Adrian Crossway the next day.

Soon Molly said she must go to bed and get a long night’s sleep. I would have gone too, but Lilian asked me to wait while she had another cup of tea. She gulped it down the minute Molly was out of the room and then got up to go, so I realised she had stayed just to give herself a chance to talk to me. The minute we were out on the landing she said, ‘Up on the roof, quick!’

It was chilly on the roof after the warm room; as we walked over to the parapet I hoped Lilian would not keep me out long. Then she began to talk and I forgot about being cold, forgot about everything except what she was saying. With triumph and delight she informed me that Mrs Crossway was bringing a suit for divorce.

‘She had a detective watching the flat on Wednesday
after noon. He actually came to the door and rang the bell. Of course we didn’t answer but he could easily have heard us talking before he rang – he could have listened through the letter-box. I didn’t know it was a detective then, but when we came out there was a man in the corridor looking furtively casual, so I had hopes – I asked you to pray, remember. Anyway, Mrs Crossway had it out with Rex this morning and he admitted everything. He said it was no use denying it. And the marvellous thing is that he doesn’t mind – well, he did at first but he seemed to change when he saw how wildly hopeful I was. Suddenly he was his very kindest self. He’s never been as sweet to me as he was today.’

I asked if he was going to marry her.

‘Well, of course. I’ll be named in the case. Mrs Crossway wouldn’t hear of an arranged divorce. She’s left the house for good – and I’m going to see it on Sunday. He says we might as well come out into the open now.’

I longed to get away without saying anything but I did manage: ‘I hope you’ll be very happy.’ Presumably I didn’t make a success of it for she instantly said: ‘Oh, God, you
mind
! You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. It’ll make no difference to his fondness for you. And I’ll be in a position to help you. Perhaps someday I can persuade him to give you a part.’

‘No, thank you, Lilian. He says I can’t act.’

‘Well, why can’t he teach you, the way he taught me? Anyway I can make sure you meet lots of interesting people and find the right man to marry – somebody young. I want to ask you something. Promise you won’t be angry.’

‘I shouldn’t think I would.’ I was too stricken to imagine having the spirit to be angry.

‘When you went to the barn that night, are you sure that anything really happened? It’s so hard to believe it of Rex – with you. And you’re so innocent you just might think – Well, I once knew a girl who believed she’d been seduced when there’d been nothing that actually
counted
.’