The Glowing Hours

by Marina Oliver

  *

  Andrew came into the dressing room with only a perfunctory knock. Nell and Gwyneth turned from the mirror in surprise.

  'Have you seen Pierre?' he demanded.

  'Didn't he drive here with you?'

  'No, said he didn't need a lift.' Andrew pushed his hands through his already disordered hair. 'We're on in half an hour. He implied he had a car, or someone to bring him. Did he say anything to you?'

  'No. He didn't seem to have time for anyone last week. He was off the moment we finished rehearsing.'

  'And not very interested in the rehearsals,' Andrew replied slowly. 'Was he ill?'

  Gwyneth shrugged. 'He'll turn up. Maybe they – whoever it is bringing him – have had a puncture. He won't let us down.'

  Every five minutes Andrew, looking more and more distraught, came to see whether Pierre had arrived, but no one had seen him.

  'You'll have to change the order of the acts,' Andrew said desperately to the stage manager as the rest of them were waiting in the wings.

  'There's only two more before the top man. You can't shift 'im.'

  'But please can we have a few more minutes? Something dreadful must have happened.' Reluctantly, and with the displaced artistes complaining bitterly, the programme was rearranged. Still Pierre did not arrive. With three minutes to go before they had to appear, the stagedoor keeper shuffled up.

  'Note fer Mr Denver,' he said lugubriously.

  Andrew snatched it. 'Thanks,' he muttered as he tore open the pale blue envelope. Gwyneth narrowed her eyes. She had seen that sort of envelope before. And encountered the flowery perfume which wafted up from it, for a second overwhelming the mingled backstage aromas. 'Damn her to hell!' Andrew exploded.

  'Be quiet!' hissed the stage manager. 'You'll be heard on stage!'

  'What is it?' Nell whispered.

  'That damned cousin of mine!' Andrew said bitterly, lowering his voice. 'This note is to say she and Pierre have left for a short holiday in London. She hopes the sudden decision will not greatly inconvenience us! The feeble milksop! He daren't tell me himself, but they must have been plotting this all last week!'

  'What can we do?' Gwyneth asked. 'We can't get the right rhythm without the drums!'

  'You'll 'ave ter do the best yer can, mates!' the stage manager, who had been listening to the exchanges, intervened. 'The show must go on! An' 'ere come the great opera duo,' he added contemptuously as the previous act, receiving little applause, bowed themselves off stage.

  Before they knew what was happening, the curtains parted and Nell and Gwyneth were in the full glare of the footlights. A panic-stricken glance showed them that Andrew and his depleted group of musicians were ready to play, and on the first ragged notes from the saxophone they began to dance.

  'It was a bloody shambles!' the manager complained afterwards. 'That's the last time you amateurs appear in my theatre! And you needn't think you'll get paid for tonight, either. You didn't provide what you promised, and I was lucky no more of the audience walked out.'

  'Look, it wasn't exactly our fault!' Andrew tried to bluster. 'We didn't know the blasted man was going to let us down without warning.'

  'That's your problem. Did you see old Jimmy's look as he went on? If you've killed his act too he'll be after your blood. Take my advice and scarper, fast!'

  'Come on, Gwyneth, let's go,' Nell urged. As they walked towards the station she was shivering.

  'I don't think I've ever been so humiliated, or so terrified,' Gwyneth confessed. 'It wasn't so bad when they were just shouting, but when they started laughing, and Andrew stopped playing and shouted back at them, I wanted to run!'

  'So did I! Do you think Kitty did it on purpose?'

  'Of course she did, to spite us. I think she and Pierre were up to something while we were in Blackpool, but I didn't think it was any more than pique on Kitty's part, to show us she didn't care that Timothy and Andrew were paying us more attention than they gave her.

  'How can anyone be so mean? It's wrecked all the reputation we've worked so hard to build. Even if she's no longer interested, does she have to ruin it for us?'

  'People as spoilt as Kitty Denver don't care a scrap about anyone else so long as they get what they want, whether it's admiration or revenge. Cheer up, Nell, at least we won't starve. Edwina will be glad to have us back, and in many ways I prefer dancing.'

  Nell thought she did too, but all the way back to Birmingham on the train she was wondering whether this was the first piece of bad luck to assail her now she had lost her patch-box.

  *

  Frank and Edwina were pleased to welcome them back, but to Nell's dismay they didn't have places for both of them together.

  'In a few weeks there may be another place, or I can move the girls around, but I don't want to disturb the line-up now, they've only just begun performances,' Frank explained.

  'We can put Gwyneth back in the first Beauties, they need someone and she knows most of the routines already. They go on tour to Oxford and Gloucester and Bristol next week,' Edwina suggested. 'Nell can stay with the second Beauties in Birmingham for a few weeks. They need someone with experience, and we could introduce a solo spot for her.'

  It was better than nothing, and they had to accept. Andrew, after the débâcle of the Walsall performance, had angrily disbanded the group and was making plans to set off on his own tour.

  'I've had enough of slaving for the benefit of others,' he announced bitterly. 'I'm looking after me in future. But I do wish you luck, you did nothing to cause the problems,' he said to Gwyneth and Nell.

  'I should think not!' Gwyneth exploded when they were out of earshot. 'If anyone caused it, apart from Kitty, it was Andrew trying to kiss you and making her jealous!' She started to laugh. 'Don't worry, Nell, we'll be even better off now, and we'll soon be back in the same troupe. Edwina has promised, and have you noticed, she has far more say than she used to?'

  *

  It was unbelievably lonely when Gwyneth had gone. The other girls in Nell's troupe were either shy or resentful because she had more experience and was promoted at once to doing solo spots. Their first few engagements were in Birmingham, so she didn't have to try and share lodgings with them, and they were happy enough to travel back with her to the city centre from whichever theatre they appeared in.

  The advantage was that Nell had time to go and see her mother frequently. Mrs Baxter was pathetically grateful for these visits, and assured her daughter that Pa wasn't in the least suspicious about the extra luxuries Nell's money provided.

  'It ain't as if 'e cared,' she said tiredly. 'So long as little 'uns don't fuss 'im, 'e don't notice what they 'as ter eat. Our Ned came ter see me last week, an' said 'e'd seen yer Pa wi' that Janie Pritchard, near 'er 'ouse. 'E don't allus come 'ome nights now.'

  'Ma, that's awful!'

  Her mother shrugged. 'Why should I want 'im in me bed? It's a damn sight better without 'im snorin' an' kickin' me.'

  Nell shuddered, and hugged her mother close.

  'It ain't as if we needs 'is money. 'E never gave us much anyroad. We can buy food on what me an' Eth gets, what you gives us, an' the coppers Benjy an' Fanny bring in.' She smiled, her face softening with love. 'Benjy's found an old bucket an' shovel, an' 'e collects 'oss muck from road, an' sells it fer 'a'penny a bucket. 'E's a good lad.'

  'Have you heard any more – about Amy?' Nell asked hesitantly.

  Mrs Baxter shook her head. 'I think the lass is dead. At first, I felt as if 'er was callin' me. 'Er don't no more. Better off dead, p'raps. Not all on us can get out of slums like you did.'

  'Ma, if I can help any more, I will,' Nell promised.

  As she walked back along Broad Street to her room, culling her brains for ways in which she could help her mother escape from a hopeless existence, she heard her name called.

  'Nell, I thought it was you!'

  'Kitty!'

  Kitty smiled as though they had never quarrelled. 'I hear you're dancing with the Bliss
Beauties again. God, you can't know how divine it is not to feel tied any more. It was fun while it lasted, but it was enough for me, traipsing all over the country and all those dreadful lodgings. I'm looking for something more exciting now, more glamorous.'

  'I hope you discover it! Kitty, when we – left The Firs, I must have missed a little patch-box. Did you find it?'

  'A patch-box? One of those oldfashioned things?'

  'It was in one of the drawers of the chest. It could have slipped under the paper.'

  'I don't go grubbing about under drawer linings,' Kitty said with a slight shudder. 'I didn't find it.'

  'Meggy might have done. Please, would you ask her to look?'

  'If it means so much to you. Though if she did find it, she might not admit it.'

  Nell was shocked. 'Meggy would never steal anything!' she said indignantly.

  'You have more faith in her than I do,' Kitty drawled. 'I must dash, Nell, I'm meeting a new man for tea at the Grand. He's a grubby manufacturer, but he's fabulously rich, and a fantastic lover. Far better than Andrew. Give my dear cousin my love.'

  *

  Nell was rehearsing the next morning in Endersby's ballroom when Marigold came into the room and spoke briefly to Edwina. When the dance had finished Edwina called Nell over to her.

  'Mrs Endersby needs you, Nell,' she said gently. 'We'll be finishing soon, don't bother to come back.'

  'Nell, come into my office, please.'

  She led the way through the hotel and towards the room Nell had seen before. She ushered Nell in, then closed the door gently and indicated for Nell to sit down. Nell, however, was standing in the centre of the room, puzzled, facing Paul who had risen from his chair and taken a step towards her.

  'Nell, my dear, I'd give anything not to have to tell you this. It's bad news.'

  ***

  Chapter 19

  He reached out for her, hesitated, and then took her hands firmly in his. 'Come and sit down.'

  Marigold moved to a small cupboard and quietly busied herself with pouring two glasses of brandy as Paul drew Nell to sit beside him on the settee.

  'What is it?' Through her churning fear she was conscious of his hard, comforting grasp, and his eyes, full of sympathy, close to her own.

  'It's your mother,' he began, but Nell interrupted.

  'Is she ill? Has Pa – what's happened?'

  'It's nothing to do with your Pa, Nell. He wasn't there. There was a fire. No one knows how it started. It was the middle of the night. People heard an explosion, but before they could do anything the entire house was burning. I'm sorry, darling, but they all died.'

  Marigold came and held the brandy to Nell's lips. Without thought Nell sipped, coughed, and with her gaze fixed on Paul's face, uttered a dry sob.

  'Ma? The little ones? You're saying they're all – dead?'

  'I'm so sorry, Nell. They'd have been suffocated by the smoke before the fire reached them. It would not have been painful, not like burning.'

  'Not painful? You think death isn't painful!' She struggled to free her hands, but he forced her to be still.

  'We none of us know what death is like, Nell, but I've watched people dying, and at the end any pain they feel seems to leave them. Suffocation is quick, not like the agony of burning flesh.'

  He looked up as Marigold, with an odd choking noise, hastily set the brandy glasses down on a table beside him, and then, her glance apologetic, swiftly left the room. He turned his attention back to Nell and went on talking, gently yet firmly, until her rigidity left her and she began to weep. He gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair away from her forehead, and after a while persuaded her to sip more brandy.

  Nell sat up, took a deep breath, and gratefully accepted the handkerchief he proffered. 'I'm sorry. I'm all right now. Please tell me what happened.'

  Paul sipped his own brandy. 'We aren't sure. From what people nearby said it seemed like a gas explosion. There may have been a leak, or the gas mantle could have been left on, and the light for some reason blown out. Before anyone could help the house was on fire. No one could get in, and they couldn't hear anyone inside calling or crying. That's why I'm sure they would have been overcome by smoke or even gas before they knew anything about it. The houses on either side were damaged, though no one else was hurt.'

  'All the little ones? They all – died?'

  He nodded. 'When the fire was out, they found all their bodies.'

  She shuddered, and turned away her head. 'Where's Pa?'

  'He seems to have been drunk, and hadn't gone home. He was with some friends,' Paul told her.

  'If I hadn't given Ma money he wouldn't have had enough to go drinking, he'd have had to give her some,' she said bitterly.

  'Then he'd have been killed too,' Paul pointed out softly.

  Nell turned to him, her eyes blazing. 'That might have been a good thing! Rather than all those innocent little babies! And Ma, he never made her happy, never helped her, just used her until her poor body was worn out with having so many children!'

  He thought she would collapse into tears once more, and tried to put his arms round her, but she shook her head, took a deep breath, and looked up at him from tear-drenched eyes.

  'I'd like to go and see. Please will you come with me?' Her voice shook, but she controlled it. When he nodded she managed a brief smile of gratitude. 'I'll go and change.'

  He suddenly recognised why she looked strange. She was wearing the rehearsal costume Edwina had introduced, neat grey bloomers and a loose, white shirt tied with a narrow bow of ribbon at the neck. Her legs were bare, apart from short white socks, and suddenly she looked no more than a child.

  'I'll wait for you here,' he said, rising to his feet and turning away towards the window. He wanted her so much. He wanted the right to comfort and protect her. But she didn't want any man, and from what he was discovering about her father, and the life her mother had led, he could understand why she might reject all thoughts of marriage.

  Marigold slipped back into the room. Her eyes looked suspiciously bright but she was calm and businesslike. 'Gwyneth's away on tour. Nell can't be left alone in her lodgings, so bring her back to me. I'm going home now, and she must stay with me until Gwyneth gets back.'

  'Thanks, Marigold! I was worried what to do.'

  'And she wouldn't have agreed to go to your house,' she said, with a sympathetic smile. 'Oh, don't try and hide from me, Paul. I can see how it is with you, however much you try to appear calm and uninvolved. And I wish you luck, she's strong, though so young, and a delightful person. I'm very fond of her.'

  He wondered whether to confide in Marigold. Then he decided it wouldn't be fair on Nell. Sensible though Marigold Endersby was, she might try and influence Nell in his favour. He didn't want Nell to be under any pressure. Nor did he want her, out of perversity, to turn against him. One day, he believed, she would come to him freely. It was fiendishly difficult being patient, but he was prepared to wait.

  *

  The house, and the one alongside, were little more than a heap of debris. The roof had collapsed and bare, burn-streaked walls reared up, grotesque silhouettes against a cerulean blue sky. Much of the rubble had been shifted as men searched for the bodies, and was piled in the middle of the court. It reeked of smoke and dust and there was a lingering taint of gas.

  People stood gossiping at their doors. Older children crowded excitedly as near as they were allowed to the wreckage, while their toddler brothers and sisters clung to their mothers' skirts, thumbs in mouths, sensing the fear as well as the fascination of some dramatic event touching their lives. There was a ripple of comment as Nell approached, then a watchful silence. Many of the people recognised Paul as one of the doctors from the clinic. A few called greetings to him and words of sympathy to Nell, but most were speechless. Nell, in her fine clothes, with her handsome, attentive escort, had moved beyond their lives and understanding. They knew she danced on music hall stages, and most of them assumed all theatre p
eople, especially pretty young women, led lives of unmentionable depravity.

  'There's nothing left!' Nell gasped, halting abruptly at the entrance to the court. She stared into the shell of what had been her home, and saw some twisted metal which, she realised with a shock, was the bedstead she had once slept on. Another twisted heap was, on closer inspection, recognisable as the zinc bath tub which had hung on a nail outside the kitchen.

  She let her gaze wander. They'd had wallpaper in the house next door, she noticed inconsequentially. A piece of it was hanging from the top of the far wall. She hadn't known they were rich enough to wallpaper their bedrooms. Her gaze swept on, and came to rest with a jolt.

  'Look! Up there, on the top of that chimney!'

  She caught at Paul's arm and pointed.

  'A piece of rag. What is it?'

  'It was – it was a doll's dress. I gave the doll to little Joan for her fourth birthday, just a few weeks ago. None of us had ever had proper dolls. She used to undress it every night before she went to bed, and hang the clothes over the knob of the bedstead. Paul, take me away, please!' Swiftly he led her to his car, parked at the entrance to the alley. She sat with head bowed as he drove away and didn't look up until he halted.

  'Where – this is Marigold's house!'

  'She asked me to bring you here. You mustn't be alone. Besides, there will be arrangements to make. Marigold will help you.'

  'I mustn't presume! She was so good before.'

  'She is, and wants to help. Let her do this.'

  'Where's Pa?'

  It was the first time Nell had mentioned him after her bitter outburst.

  'He didn't know about the fire until he got to work this morning. He hadn't been home all night. He's been taken to your brother Ned's house, near Commercial Street. I have the address. Do you want to see him? This afternoon, perhaps, when you've had a rest?'