Break of Dawn

by Rita Bradshaw

  Sophy had heard these views in various forms over the years. Most of the time actresses could laugh at the bigotry they rep resented, but occasionally, like now, they were more worrying.

  Toby didn’t come home that night. This was not an uncommon occurrence. Sophy had long since insisted on separate bedrooms so he did not wake her in the early hours. But it wasn’t her husband’s absence which had her pacing the floor. She felt sick about Cat. At one point she sat on her bed holding Maisie, who normally reposed on her dressing-table, staring at the doll Bridget had given her so long ago and praying that another dear friend hadn’t been taken from her. And as Bridget had been more mother than friend, so was Cat more the sister she had never had. She loved her dearly. How dearly, she hadn’t realised till now.

  As soon as it was light Sophy bathed and dressed, refusing the breakfast Sadie – her maid-cum-cook – tried to press upon her before she left the house. With Sophy’s success had come a move to a large terraced establishment overlooking Berkeley Square, and when she’d come across Sadie, an ageing ex-actress who’d spent the last decade living in abject poverty, it had seemed right to offer her the job even though some of the other applicants had been more suitable. It had proved a happy arrangement. Sadie was endlessly grateful for her changed circumstances, and Sophy was glad of the other woman’s company, especially with Toby being the way he was. It was good to have another woman living in the house.

  Sadie now fussed over her as she hailed Sophy a cab. ‘You ought to eat something, ma’am,’ she scolded gently. ‘Even if it’s just a slice of toast.’

  ‘I’ll have something later, when I’ve spoken to Kane.’

  ‘Mr Gregory’ had become ‘Kane’ some years ago. The entertainment world was a small one, and after meeting several times at various functions on a social level, he had requested she address him less formally.

  ‘We’re friends, aren’t we?’ he’d asked one day at a dinner for a respected actor who was retiring from the profession and going abroad to end his days in the sun. ‘And I always think of you as Sophy. It’s silly to stand on ceremony.’

  Toby hadn’t liked it, of course, but by then Sophy had ceased to worry about annoying her husband. If Toby had had his way, she would have had no friends of her own and would have sat at home twiddling her thumbs when she wasn’t at the theatre. She had become used to attending the numerous receptions and social occasions alone, when Toby was either off goodness knows where or in a state of drugged senselessness, and it was nice when Kane invited her to be his partner for some event or other. He was always very proper, and most meticulous about her reputation, making sure that no one misconstrued their friendship for anything else. And he’d proved himself to be a good and faithful friend over the years, although Sophy sometimes felt she knew as little about him now as when she’d first met him. She never spoke about Toby and Kane never asked, although she suspected the state of their marriage was common knowledge in the incestuous theatre world.

  She had never visited Kane’s home before, although she knew where he lived, and during the cab ride to Russell Square at the back of the British Museum she found she was a little nervous, although she was sure he wouldn’t mind her calling unannounced in the circumstances. When the cab deposited her outside a large, three-storeyed terrace with black painted iron railings separating the snowy-white front steps from the pavement, she stood for a moment, composing herself before she mounted the steps and used the shiny brass knocker on the front door.

  The door was opened almost immediately by an individual who gave Sophy something of a shock. The man was big; in fact, to use northern terminology he was ‘built like a brick outhouse’ with a squashed, well-lived-in face to match. Taken aback, Sophy hesitated for a moment before she said, ‘I – I’ve come to see Mr Gregory. Is he at home?’

  The man’s eyes narrowed but otherwise his face was impassive when he said, ‘An’ what’s your name, miss?’

  Sophy blinked. ‘Sophy Shawe.’ And then in case he got the wrong idea: ‘Mrs Sophy Shawe.’

  It was clear he recognised the name, if not her. His manner undergoing a change, he smiled, standing aside as he said, ‘Come in, Mrs Shawe, and I’ll tell Mr Gregory you’re here.’

  He showed her into a beautifully decorated and furnished drawing room which was quite devoid of the dark colours and heavy curtains and aspidistras favoured in the previous few decades. Instead the space was light and unburdened and free from clutter, the furniture of a pale wood and the curtains and cushions on the sofas and chairs the room contained pastel shades of green and blue and lemon. Japanese vases and oriental-looking ornaments were dotted here and there, and the light, dove-grey walls held several fine paintings, but again these were different from the normal landscapes or stiffly posed portraits. One picture showed a young woman with coffee-coloured skin washing her long black hair under a waterfall; another, a solitary fishing boat in a sea turned brilliant scarlet from the setting sun, and yet another, a group of raggedly clothed black children playing on the edge of a cotton-field where their mothers were working under a burning sun.

  As Sophy gazed about her, her mouth slightly agape, Kane’s manservant – if that’s what he was – waved her towards a sofa set at an angle to the fire burning in the enormous marble fireplace. ‘Take a seat, miss – Mrs Shawe,’ he corrected himself, ‘and I’ll let Mr Gregory know you’re here.’

  As he left, pulling the door closed behind him, it swung open again and stood ajar a few inches. Sophy heard him walk upstairs and knock on a door, presumably Kane’s bedroom. Then she heard nothing else for a few moments, but just before the sound of a door shutting again she thought she heard a woman’s voice and then Kane’s deep, unmistakable smoky tones.

  The sound brought her sitting bolt upright. Kane had a woman in his bed. She felt a heat in her body that rose up to stain her neck and cheeks bright red. Oh my goodness, and she had arrived like this. She looked about her frantically as though she wanted to hide. Which she did.

  First this strange and beautiful room which showed him in a totally different light, and now this. It was too much. She couldn’t face him, she really couldn’t. For a moment the fear and anxiety about Cat was forgotten. Kane and a woman . . .

  By why not? Her hands gripped tightly together, she tried to bring reason to bear. He was a man, wasn’t he? And men had needs, desires. She stood up and walked over to the wide windows; the heat from the fire was strong and wasn’t helping her colour. Pressing her hands to her cheeks she willed them to cool down. She knew women threw themselves at Kane on occasion, she had seen it, but because he had never mentioned anyone in that way she had thought . . . What? That he was celibate? No, not exactly. She supposed she hadn’t thought of him in that way at all, that was the truth of the matter. He had always been Mr Gregory to begin with – if not a father figure, then definitely a kind of benign benefactor. And then he’d become a friend. A valued and precious friend. How precious she hadn’t realised until this moment when she’d recognised she didn’t know him as well as she’d imagined. She had to pull herself together. She drew in several deep breaths, staring out over the tree-lined square beyond the windows. It wasn’t for her to judge if Kane entertained women. He was a single man, he could do what he liked. It was ridiculous to feel let down like this.

  It was another few minutes before Kane walked into the room, and by then Sophy’s acting ability had come to her rescue. She was able to greet him quietly and calmly, even if this new Kane – who clearly hadn’t yet shaved and whose black stubble accentuated the unfamiliar and disturbing side of him tenfold – was slightly unnerving. ‘Sophy?’ He had a worried frown on his face. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’

  ‘Hello, Kane.’ When he took her hands in his she forced herself not to react. ‘I’m sorry to arrive uninvited like this, but it’s Cat.’

  ‘Cat?’

  ‘She’s missing. That is, she hasn’t been to her lodgings or the theatre she’s appearing at for days.
It’s not like her. Cat wouldn’t leave without letting me know where she was, and she certainly wouldn’t miss a performance, let alone several.’

  ‘Slow down, slow down.’ He stopped her voice which had risen with every word by drawing her over to the sofa she’d vacated earlier. He pressed her down on it before sitting beside her, but without touching her now. ‘Start at the beginning,’ he said. ‘When was she last seen, for a start?’

  ‘I think I must have been the last person to see her. We went to a meeting together . . .’ She told him it all, finishing with her visits to the police station and the hospital. Taking a deep breath, she added, ‘And she said she’d been threatened.’

  ‘What?’ Kane sat up straighter. ‘By whom and when?’

  ‘She didn’t say.’ Sophy was bitterly regretting not making Cat ride in the cab with her. ‘In fact, she made light of it. She said all the actresses were subject to the same thing.’

  Kane nodded slowly. Cat was right. It was this very thing that gave him nightmares regarding Sophy and caused him to provide protection for the actresses in his theatres. But Cat hadn’t been working for him, and he knew that the manager of the establishment where Cat had been playing couldn’t give a damn. Behind his calm facade, his mind was racing. One part of his brain was dealing with Sophy’s presence in his house – something he had fantasised about for years; the other was reflecting that it was Murphy’s Law it had to be on a morning he’d brought a woman home the night before. Eliza was a young, busty wench happily devoid of inhibitions, and they’d enjoyed a pleasant if energetic night together, both of them aware it meant nothing beyond a gratification of bodily need. He was no saint, he admitted it, but this morning he wished he was when he looked into Sophy’s amber eyes.

  ‘You think some harm’s come to her?’ he said slowly.

  Sophy nodded, eternally grateful he hadn’t dismissed her fears or played down the possibility that Cat was in trouble. ‘The police were all ears until I said she was an actress, and then I could tell they thought she’d gone off for some frivolous purpose somewhere, but Cat isn’t like that. They said they’d investigate, but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Something’s terribly wrong. I know it.’

  Kane thought she could be right.

  ‘I’m sorry to burden you with this,’ Sophy went on, ‘but I didn’t know who else to come to. I – I should have called at a more reasonable time.’

  So she knew. Kane’s jaw clenched but beyond that he made no outward sign, his voice calm and cool when he said, ‘You are welcome here any time, you know that. I’ll make a few enquiries of my own, all right? Ralph, the man you met at the door, is an old hand at such things and not easily intimidated, which is why he makes such an excellent manservant for someone like me. His background is . . . unorthodox, but he gets to hear of any rumblings of trouble, and sometimes that can be the success or failure of a production. You’d be surprised how many plays are sabotaged by anxious rivals.’

  Nothing would surprise her after this morning. ‘But – but this isn’t a play.’

  ‘He has contacts, Sophy.’

  He didn’t add, ‘in the criminal fraternity’, but Sophy knew what he meant.

  ‘And he can move easily in places where you or I would stick out like a sore thumb.’

  Sophy didn’t ask what sort of places; she didn’t want to know. ‘So you don’t think I’m being silly?’

  He smiled, his cornflower-blue eyes crinkling, and suddenly it was the old Kane, the tried and trusted friend. ‘No, I don’t think you’re being silly, but try not to worry. There might be a simple explanation for her absence.’

  She couldn’t think of one and she didn’t think Kane could either. The sick churning was back but stronger now he had taken her seriously. She realised part of her had been hoping he would pooh-pooh the likelihood of Cat being in trouble. But Kane was a realist. She thought back to the safeguards which had been in place when she’d worked for him, and suddenly wished herself back a decade. She would make different decisions and not be swept off her feet by stunning good looks like a giddy schoolgirl. Alarmed at the way her thoughts had gone, she stood up. ‘I must go.’

  He didn’t invite her to stay, which wasn’t surprising in the circumstances. Instead he said, ‘Ralph is a surprisingly good cook. You must come to dinner sometime. You and Toby, of course.’

  And to this Sophy coolly replied, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Ralph will stop a cab for you.’

  ‘There’s no need, I can catch one on the corner and—’

  ‘Ralph will stop a cab for you,’ he repeated quietly, and his voice was grim when he added, ‘Take every care over the next little while, Sophy. Be alert and on your guard. This sort of thing doesn’t happen very often, but it does happen.’

  Again, she didn’t ask him to explain himself because she couldn’t bear to think of what it might mean for Cat.

  Toby had recently arrived home when the cab dropped her outside the house. Sadie opened the door to her, whispering, ‘He’s a bit the worse for wear, ma’am, but I can’t get him to go upstairs yet. He wanted to know where you were and I said you couldn’t sleep and had gone for an early morning walk.’

  Sophy nodded. Toby had become increasingly paranoid about other men over the last years since the opium had affected his physical capability in the bedroom. He had accused her of having affairs with each of her leading men over this time, along with any other male she came into contact with. Preparing herself for yet another inquisition, Sophy opened the door to the drawing room. It was about half the size of Kane’s splendid drawing room and although she had always been pleased with the furnishings she had chosen, the room seemed cluttered this morning.

  Toby was slouched on a sofa on the far side of the room, a cup of coffee at his elbow. He scowled at her and she could see he had trouble focusing. ‘Where’ve you been?’ he muttered as she stood looking at him.

  Sophy found she was angry. He stayed out all night whenever he felt like it, was forever critical of her and everything she did, spent money like water and would never admit where he’d been and what he did, and now he had the nerve to question her in this manner? Stiffly, she said, ‘I’ve been to see Kane.’

  It clearly wasn’t what he’d expected. He shook his head like a boxer after a heavy blow, running his hand through his mop of fair hair as he sat up straighter. ‘You what?’

  ‘I’ve been to see Kane Gregory. Cat’s missing. She hasn’t been seen for days and I’m worried about her.’

  ‘So you went to see him?’ It was aggressive.

  ‘Yes, I did, as you weren’t around to talk to. As usual.’

  Toby stood up, stumbling slightly as he walked across to her. As he drew near, Sophy became aware of the smell of him: a sweet, musty, faintly obnoxious smell that was on his breath and clothes. It told her exactly how he had spent the night. Not that she needed proof. He was still clearly under the influence of the drugs he’d imbibed. ‘Don’t you talk to me like that. I’m your husband,’ he said thickly.

  There were many replies she could have made to that. Biting her tongue, she said again, ‘Cat’s missing. Do you understand?’

  ‘Her? Huh. She’s likely with someone who’s caught her fancy. And I mean a woman, incidentally. Your great friend is nothing more than a—’

  ‘Stop it!’ Her voice was almost a scream. ‘Don’t you dare talk about Cat in that way.’

  ‘I’ll say what I like in my own house,’ he shouted back. ‘And you, you’re no better. Daughter of a whore and with the same inclinations—’

  Nothing could have stopped her hand shooting out and making contact with the side of his face in a ringing slap. And there was no doubt he would have hit her, his doubled fist coming up to strike even as Sadie virtually burst into the room, causing his hand to hover in the air for a second. Sadie reached Sophy in a moment, standing slightly in front of her as she glared at Toby.

  He surveyed the two women; Sophy as white as a sheet and Sadie red with anger,
and then, his words coming as though sieved through his teeth, he hissed, ‘To hell with you. To hell with you both.’ Swearing foully, he staggered from the room, banging the door violently behind him.

  Sophy sank down on a chair, her knees all but giving way. She wanted to cry but she wouldn’t let herself. That Toby had thrown the secret she’d confided about her mother into her face so cruelly had cut her to the quick, and she knew it was the final blow to their marriage. Where her love for him had been was a great void; she didn’t even feel bitter or resentful or angry any more. For the first time she had to acknowledge that Cat was right. She must leave him and start divorce proceedings. It was now a matter of self-preservation.

  The thought of Cat brought her mind back to the immediate worry. She turned to Sadie who was patting her shoulder.

  ‘Could I have something to eat, Sadie? Something light. And a hot drink. Tea, not coffee.’

  Obviously glad of something to do, Sadie bustled off, muttering something under her breath about feckless husbands and what she’d like to do with them.

  Sophy lay back against the chair. She was tired in mind and body. So much had happened in the last few days. Patience, Cat, and now this with Toby. She didn’t let herself think of Kane Gregory, that was a road too complex and disturbing to go down.