by Vicki Beeby
‘I think you’ll be perfect for the role,’ Evie told her. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, but you’re the one who showed me the ropes in my early days.’
‘Yes, and you were a brilliant teacher when I was learning to act,’ May said, speaking of the time Jess had offered to give her acting lessons to improve her confidence.
‘Jess Halloway, instructor officer,’ Jess said, grinning. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
‘Are you sure you won’t regret giving up acting, though?’ May asked. ‘I thought you loved it.’
‘I do. But you know, the acting role I most loved was playing Cinderella in the panto at Amberton. I couldn’t work out what was different, but after the CO said her piece, it all fell into place.’ She paused, enjoying again the feeling of hearing Laura Morgan’s praise. ‘I did enjoy the acting, no doubt about that, but what I enjoyed most was the organisation, seeing it all come together, knowing it was because of me that it was all happening. And, best of all, seeing you bloom, May, and produce an amazing performance.’ Jess paused. ‘Anyway, acting’s clearly not good for me. I was so blinded by the possibility of fame, I couldn’t see where my true talents lie. And maybe…’ She swallowed. She had been about to wonder aloud if she should have spent more time with Milan rather than persuading herself she needed to mix with other actors for the sake of her career. But it was still too painful to speak his name.
‘So you’re saying goodbye to a film career.’ Thankfully, May didn’t appear to have noticed Jess’s hesitation.
‘Yup. Well, not completely, of course. I’ve still got the première to get through. Then I’ll be saying goodbye. You are coming, aren’t you? I know you’re busy with the wedding preparations, but I couldn’t bear to go through it without the two of you.’ It should have been an exciting occasion with Milan on her arm. Now she was dreading it, especially after her interview went public.
‘Course we’ll come,’ Evie said. ‘Try and stop us.’
‘I’m really looking forward to it,’ May said. ‘It will be my first and probably only glimpse of a showbiz life.’
‘Trust me, it’s overrated,’ Jess said. ‘Talking of the showbiz life, though, that reminds me. I need to get a paper. That interview will be out. I bet Leo’s wishing he hadn’t pushed me into it now.’
They had left Hill House by this time, so Jess went down the hill towards the shops and found a newspaper boy on the corner of the Uxbridge Road. Then she hurried back up the hill to Bentley Manor, the paper rolled under her arm.
‘I’ve got to admit, I haven’t felt this nervous since we were tracking a V2 heading right for Bentley Priory,’ Jess said once she’d joined her friends in the anteroom and opened the paper.
She didn’t have to search too hard. On page four, the headline stood out: ‘Actress Jilts Steele.’ Jess winced. ‘Here we go,’ she muttered, and read the article.
When actor Leonard Steele announced his engagement to the unknown Jessica Halloway a little over two weeks ago, the British were full of good wishes for the happy couple and ready to welcome Halloway into their hearts. Little did he know that the small-time actress turned WAAF would turn around to bite him only a few days later.
‘I made a terrible mistake,’ says Halloway, 24. ‘I am in love with another man.’ When she realised this man didn’t love her in return, she claims she allowed Leonard Steele to sweep her off her feet. She now claims she can’t go through with the wedding and has decided to focus on her career.
It’s only to be hoped that Leonard Steele chooses more wisely next time. When approached for his reaction to Halloway’s desertion, he said, ‘I wish her all the best in the future. My heart is broken but it wasn’t meant to be.’
Jess tossed the paper aside with an exclamation of disgust. ‘He’s changed his tune since I spoke to him.’
‘Why? What did he say?’ Evie asked.
‘Told me I could forget ever landing another acting job, that he would see me finished. Like I care.’
‘What a…’ Evie seemed to grope for words. In the end she grabbed the paper, screwed it into a tight ball and flung it into the waste paper basket.
‘Are you sure you still want to go to the première?’ May asked.
‘I’m going with my ’ead ’eld ’igh.’ Jess pointed to the crumpled paper in the bin. ‘I’ll show the readers of that rag that I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of. Besides—’ she grinned at her friends ‘—this is my last chance for a showbiz party and I’m not going to let Leo spoil it.’
The rumble of an aero engine made her glance through the open window; a Spitfire was gliding through the blue sky. She watched it, her thoughts flying to Milan, and her defiant mood faded. Where was he? Would she ever see him again? She doubted it. Idiot that she was, she had pushed him away not once but twice. Even if he did still love her, he wouldn’t risk getting hurt a third time.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The dream came again that night. He was returning home after years away, walking down the track beside the woods, watching eagerly for the bend in the road and the first glimpse of his family home. Then he saw it – the terracotta tiles glowing a brilliant orange in contrast to the green woodland beyond. Franta was running down the road to meet him, Eliška only a few steps behind.
‘Uncle Milan!’ Franta cried. ‘It’s Uncle Milan.’
Then Milan reached them. He flung his bag to the ground and hoisted Franta into the air, swinging him around. All he could see was Franta’s smiling face against the blur of green branches and blue sky. Finally he put Franta down and staggered dizzily to Eliška. ‘It is so good to be home,’ he said.
The shrill ringing of his alarm clock woke him, and he fumbled an arm from his tangled blankets and turned it off. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling while his sleep-fogged brain grappled with where he was. Then it all came back to him. He was in his quarters at RAF Benson, having returned from Prague without his CO suspecting what he and Jiří had done. All was well. So why had he dreamed about home again? He’d thought those dreams would end now he had been back and seen for himself that Eliška and Franta were safe.
Something was hammering in the far recesses of his brain, trying to catch his attention, telling him something had been different about the dream. Several times he thought he almost had it; each time, the elusive difference slipped from his consciousness before he could capture it. The more he thought about it, the further it sank from his grasp.
After a while he gave a groan and pulled himself into a sitting position. He put his hands to his face and found to his surprise that his cheeks were wet with tears. What was wrong with him? He had been home, found everyone safe. Yes, Prague had suffered but it could be rebuilt. So why had a dream that should have been happy made him so sad? Even Franta, who in real life had needed time to get used to him, had ran up to him and called him Uncle.
Uncle. Franta had called him Uncle. In English. That was when it hit him like a bullet to the chest. He had dreamt of home, yet every word had been spoken in English. As far as he could remember, he had always dreamed in Czech, even when his dreams had been about England. It had been one of his few links to home. Yet even though this had been a clear dream of reunion with his family, every word had been in English.
Perhaps it hadn’t been a dream of homecoming after all. Perhaps it was his subconscious finally letting go of the past, saying goodbye.
* * *
Milan still felt shaky when it was time for breakfast, too churned up to eat. As the squadron were currently being rested and had no flying duties that day, he decided to do the only thing that might settle his whirling thoughts. He skipped breakfast and took his violin to the distant hangar where he always practised. Opening up the violin case after his absence was like reacquainting himself with an old friend. The ritual of tightening the bow and applying rosin then tuning the strings helped calm him. He began with a series of scales and arpeggios and soon he had reached that point where his fingers seemed to
move without conscious thought. It was as though there was a connection between the violin and his fingers that completely bypassed his brain. He could almost feel his shoulders lightening as his worries fell away. He wouldn’t think about the dream any more. He would lose himself in music for an hour or so and come back to the problem later.
Feeling it was time to play some music, he put down the violin and searched in the pocket where he kept his sheet music. His fingers closed around a small piece of card. Pulling it out he saw the card that he vaguely remembered from the concert. He read the name. Douglas Murray. That sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before?
Wait. Douglas Murray the renowned composer? Douglas Murray the founder of the Murray Orchestra? Milan had heard of him. He supposed he hadn’t made the connection earlier because he’d thought Murray was part of the film world. What had he said when he’d handed over his card? Milan racked his brains. It was hard to remember exactly because his head had been full of Leonard Steele’s outrageous announcement at the time. Something about getting in touch if Milan planned to stay in the country.
The beginnings of hope formed. Murray could only have made the suggestion if he thought he could offer Milan work. Maybe there would be something for Milan in Britain if he decided to stay. The question was, did he want to stay when Jess did not want him?
* * *
When Milan went into the mess that evening he picked up a discarded newspaper and sank onto a sofa to catch up with the news. He flicked through the headlines – they all dealt with world events which he had already heard about or experienced for himself. But when he saw the headline on page four, he gripped the paper, crumpling it in his fist. He skimmed the article, his heart hammering. Jess had publicly declared she was in love with another man. The line that tore through his heart was the fact that she had believed her love to be unreturned.
All his worries about his future faded to insignificance. If Jess loved him, he knew they could work something out. The only thing that mattered now was to find her and make her understand that he loved her.
He dashed to the phone, only to find a young pilot officer apparently deeply involved in a conversation with his girlfriend. It was all Milan could do not to wrench the receiver from his hand as he breathed endearments down the line. Especially as he had heard the same man have a very similar conversation the day before with a different girl.
After what felt like an age, the pilot officer hung up after many promises to love the unfortunate girl for ever. Milan snatched the receiver and put a call through to Bentley Manor. He had lost track of Jess’s watches so could only pray she was off duty.
‘Halloway?’ said the woman who answered. She barked her words out so loudly Milan had to hold the receiver away from his ear. ‘She’ll be out all night. She’s got that fancy première in Leicester Square tonight.’
‘What time?’
‘Eight, I think.’
Milan replaced the receiver and glanced at his watch. He might just make it. Seeing his CO walk into the anteroom, he marched up to him. ‘Your car. I need it.’
‘I say, you can’t just—’
‘It’s important. Please.’
Squadron Leader Dacre must have picked up Milan’s urgency for after a pause where he studied Milan with narrowed eyes, he finally gave a tiny shrug and handed him the keys. ‘But if you put so much as a scratch on it, I’ll—’
Milan was out of the door before he heard the end of the sentence.
* * *
Jess peered ahead as she, Evie and May emerged from Leicester Square underground station. ‘Blimey, there are loads of people.’ She felt a qualm to see the crowds lining the entrance to the cinema. When she had been younger, she had dreamed that one day she would be greeted by cheering crowds as she arrived at a première. Now, even though her dreams had come true, she couldn’t help wishing no one had turned up. ‘I bet they’re Leo’s fans. If they’ve read the papers, they won’t be ’appy with me.’ The report she had seen first hadn’t been the only one. One particularly vitriolic report had called her ‘Jilting Jess’, and other papers had followed.
Evie squeezed her arm. ‘Best foot forward, Jess. You’re a star. Enjoy the moment.’
May, too, looked out. She turned pale. ‘Isn’t there a back door we can use?’
‘I wish,’ Jess muttered. She pulled her compact from her pocket to check her hair, but her hand shook so much she dropped it. She stooped to retrieve it, and when she looked up it was to see Leo leap out of a chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce to the cheers of the crowd.
Strangely, the sight gave her courage. She wouldn’t let him get the better of her. ‘Come on,’ she said to Evie and May. ‘Let’s show ’em what true grit really means.’
At first, she had been disappointed that she would have to appear in uniform rather than a glamorous gown. Now she took strength in her uniform and the knowledge that she was part of something bigger than her. She shrank from walking out alone, though, and wished she could walk in between Evie and May. However, May would hate being the centre of attention, and she didn’t think Evie would particularly enjoy it, so she let them slip unnoticed around the back of the crowd.
‘Chin up, shoulders back, stand tall and sparkle,’ she muttered to herself. She faltered momentarily, wishing Milan could be there with her. It was her fault he wasn’t, though, so she pushed him out of her mind and strode out in front of the crowd.
Then a flash went off in her face, and she recovered, forcing a smile as bright as the lights festooning the cinema.
‘Miss Halloway, Jess!’
Jess smiled and waved in the direction of the voice. Her heart gave a lurch when she saw a man holding a notebook and pencil. She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t called her Jilting Jess. She’d known there would be reporters there all aching to get a quote from her about the end of her engagement to Leo, so she had prepared a few non-committal words. However, she hoped to get into the cinema without being stopped. Ahead of her she could see Evie and May had reached the safety of the door and were standing just inside. Leo was chatting to fans, smiling and waving and also answering questions fired to him by reporters.
Above the noise of the crowd, she heard one of them ask, ‘How do you feel now you’ve been left in the lurch?’
Upset he couldn’t use her to get a deal with the Hollywood studio, Jess wanted to retort. Still, she wanted to hear the answer, so she edged closer, covering the move by smiling at a teenage girl who was waving her autograph book at her. Jess gave her a beaming smile and scrawled her name on the page, all the while straining her ears to hear Leo’s reply.
‘I can’t deny I’m heartbroken,’ Leo said.
Jess made a supreme effort not to glare in Leo’s direction. She could sense heads turning to look at her.
‘But,’ Leo went on, ‘part of life is learning to deal with the ups as well as the downs. I won’t let this beat me.’
Jess cast her gaze heavenwards. Leo certainly knew how to play an audience. Then she saw Leo glance her way and affect a start. His brilliant smile faltered and when he smiled again, there was the merest hint of pain in his eyes. If that little performance didn’t win him an Oscar, the judges should have their heads examined.
‘Excuse me,’ Leo said. ‘I—’ his voice caught; he turned sharply, making for the doorway, one hand shielding his face from view. The crowd watched him go amid a murmur of concern.
‘Miss Halloway.’ The reporter who had tried to get her attention before called to her again. As though sensing blood, the crowd turned to her as one. Jess braced herself. Leo had made sure that she would suffer. ‘Did you deliberately set out to break the heart of one of our best-loved actors?’
‘She’s shot herself in the foot,’ called out someone from the crowd. ‘No one else’ll ’ave her now she’s revealed her true colours.’
Jess wanted to do nothing more than copy Leo and flee for the shelter of the cinema. She cast a longing glance towards the door and took strength
from the concerned faces of Evie and May. Whatever happened, she would always have their friendship. Leo, for all his adoring fans, would never know friendship like theirs. Leo, too, stood just inside, talking to the director. Jess couldn’t decide who she’d rather face, the crowd or Leo.
She drew a deep breath, racking her brains for the right words. Nothing she had planned would satisfy the mob, so she decided to cast caution to the winds and speak from the heart.
‘I’m truly sorry for any hurt I’ve caused.’ None, in Leo’s case, so she had no qualms about saying it. ‘However, staying in a relationship when my heart was given elsewhere would have caused far greater pain. I hope Leonard will come to understand and forgive.’ Forgive her for costing him a lucrative deal? Not likely.
‘Jess!’
Heaven help her. Not another one. Why wouldn’t they let her be? She turned up the beam on her smile a little brighter and looked for the speaker. And froze.
The man leaning across the barrier, waving to catch her attention, was Milan.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
For a horrible moment Jess thought her knees would give way. The noise of the crowd faded away, and her vision tunnelled until she could see nothing but Milan’s face, his brows drawn together, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that seemed to pierce her to the soul. She had to be dreaming. The stresses of the war had finally caught up with her.