Ian St James Compendium - Volume 1

by Ian St. James

  "Mrs Johnstone didn't," snapped Miss Jenkins, "she's forbidden Kate ever to speak to her daughter again and I can't say I blame her -"

  "Jenny was Kate's dearest friend," said Miss Broakes. "They were like sisters -"

  Mark Averdale was bemused. He had not known what to expect. Certainly not this. One thing was clear. The Johnstones sounded in no mood to listen to his suggestion about taking Kate to America. He cursed his own rotten luck. Problems all the way. First Molly, now this.

  "Were it not for Pygmalion," Miss Jenkins was saying, "I would ask you to remove Kate from Glossops immediately, Lord Averdale."

  "Pygmalion?" he repeated blankly.

  Miss Broakes came to his rescue. Glossops were presenting a joint production of Shaw's play ... and Kate was playing the leading role. "We open tomorrow night," Miss Broakes told him, "in fact I've just this minute come from a rehearsal. I must get back as soon as possible. Please, Lord Averdale, you must understand - this shocking business has shaken Kate very, very badly. I've had the most enormous difficulty with her today. Another upset and goodness knows what will happen to the child." She turned to Miss Jenkins, "and without Kate O'Brien we haven't got a play."

  Miss Jenkins was saved the need to reply by the arrival of a maid with a tea tray.

  Mark listened as Miss Broakes resumed with an account of the production of Pygmalion. "It runs for a week. It's the principal play of the season in Maidenhead, it even rivals the professional stage in Windsor. We're quite booked out. Four thousand tickets have been sold." Little Miss Broakes was almost pleading, "Lord Averdale, whatever you do about Kate, may I ask you to give her at least this week without upsetting her further?"

  Mark was stunned. He had no idea what to "do about Kate".

  Miss Broakes swallowed her tea, "I must get back to the rehearsal. Would you care to join me in the auditorium, Lord Averdale?" She looked at her watch, "The curtain should be about to go up for the last act."

  Kate had endured the worst forty-eight hours of her life. Aunt Alison's words still scorched like a searing hot poker. Kate had never known such rejection. She had wept and pleaded, "I love you, you're my family, please don't do this to me!"

  Alison Johnstone had been white-faced with fury. "You betrayed me! I never want to see you again."

  Kate had been heartbroken. "What else could I do?" She had wept into Uncle Linc’s arms when Aunt Alison took Jenny out to the car. Poor, dear, sweet Uncle Linc, so hurt and bewildered - she had seen the pain in his eyes - but at least he had tried to comfort her. "There, there, Kate honey. Everyone is too upset right now, things will look different in the morning."

  But when Kate telephoned that morning Aunt Alison had snapped, "You have been thoroughly deceitful. I want nothing more to do with you."

  "But -" Kate had started, only to realise that Aunt Alison had hung up.

  Miss Jenkins was as bad. "You reap as you sow. This is the result of your lies. Were it not for this play, and your guardian being abroad

  The single comforting voice in a world gone mad belonged to little Miss Broakes. "Life is unfair at times, Kate. I'm afraid this is one of those times."

  Life was more than unfair, it was completely unbearable without the Johnstones. Her guardian had washed his hands of her, her brother was too busy, this new Lady Averdale was bound to hate her ... and now the Johnstones had walked out of her life.

  "They are all I had," she sobbed to Miss Broakes. "I love them so much ..."

  Dear, kind, little Miss Broakes. She had taken Kate to her room and talked and talked. "Mrs Johnstone always struck me as a very nice person ... I'm sure it was just the shock ... once she gets over it, you'll see ... give her a week or so and she will forgive you."

  Somehow Kate doubted it - and what would happen then?

  "And I'm sure you're wrong about your guardian," comforted Miss Broakes. "You must be very precious to him. And then there's your brother, you know how much he loves you ... after all, he visits whenever he can ..."

  Meanwhile there was the play.

  "Kate, you are the star. Thousands of people are coming to see you. And you're marvellous in the part. Kate, you must go through with it. You can't let me down."

  Kate did not want to let Miss Broakes down.

  Kate had not wanted to let Jenny down.

  Kate had not wanted to let Aunt Alison down, or Uncle Linc, or Miss Jenkins ... Kate wanted to please, she had always wanted to please.

  They had rehearsed twice that day. The morning session was a disaster. Kate found it impossible to concentrate. Aunt Alison kept coming into her mind - and Jenny, poor, sweet, frightened Jenny. "You've ruined your entire life," Aunt Alison had screamed at her. "Only seventeen and you've ruined your life!"

  Kate was so wooden and unresponsive that Miss Broakes stopped the rehearsal and took Kate to one side - "I'd drop you if we had more time. I know you're upset but your performance is hopeless. It's a matter of opinion about you letting Mrs Johnstone down - I'm on your side about that - but if you go on like this you are certainly letting Glossops down, and St Edwards, and Mr Coleman and his boys, and me - and most of all yourself. Come on, Kate - you know the saying - The Show Must Go On - it must! Concentrate on Eliza Doolittle. You were word perfect the other day. You are a beautiful actress the star! Everyone will be so proud of you nothing else will matter. Believe me Kate, I'm right."

  Miss Broakes was so positive.

  Even Aunt Alison might forgive her if she were a success. And the thought of letting Miss Broakes down, or disappointing Mr Coleman, or Ronnie Blackwood who played Professor Higgins, to imagine that on top of everything else, was completely unbearable.

  So Kate poured her heart and soul into the part. Gradually the magic of Shaw's play took over. She forgot about Kate O'Brien and instead became the Cockney waif who was being taught to be a Lady by the eccentric Professor Higgins. In a sense the part was made for her, it touched so many chords in her life. Eliza and Kate were both young girls who wanted to please - both were almost alone in the world and both faced an uncertain future tied in some strange way to a man old enough to be their father. In fact whenever Kate thought of Professor Higgins she thought of her guardian, she couldn't help herself, even though Ronnie Blackwell was so much younger and nothing like Mark Averdale.

  Kate could not be two people at once, and by the end of the session - with help from Miss Broakes and Mr Coleman and the rest of the cast - she was living and breathing as Eliza Doolittle. Every scene was working better. All the months of rehearsing, the hours of coaching from Miss Broakes and Mr Coleman, the friendship of the other people on stage - all combined to help her through the crisis.

  Finally came the dress rehearsal when the cast wore costume for the first time. Kate was delighted with her dresses - ragged and tatty for the early scenes, then a magnificent ball-gown for her transformation into a Lady at the beginning of the third act. It was the opening of that act which was giving problems. The curtain rose with Kate alone on the stage, dressed in her new finery, waiting to be inspected by Professor Higgins. First Mr Coleman directed her to be sitting - then he made her walk up and down, as if impatient for the Professor to arrive. But he abandoned that too - "No, no" he shouted from the front row. "Sorry Kate, not your fault, but the effect is all wrong. When the curtain rises the audience must be stunned. This is the transformation. You take their breath away. So far they've only seen you in rags. They're on the verge of falling in love with you - so is Higgins - when the curtain goes up they fall all the way. Get it? People must gasp. Suddenly they see you for what you are - the most desirable, the most beautiful girl in the world. We must create some sort of pause, just for a minute, so that every man can just gape at you."

  Of course he was talking about Eliza Doolittle not Kate O'Brien, so Kate found nothing embarrassing in his remarks. But suddenly she had an idea. Even as he was talking the most amazing recollection sprang into her mind. A scene from her childhood, a faint picture which stirred a memory complete
ly forgotten until that moment. Her mother, about whom she had thought a lot since her conversations with Tim ... she remembered her mother ... on a chaise-longue ... admiring her hair in a looking-glass.

  "Mr Coleman," she said hesitantly, "I have a tiny idea ... I'm not sure it will work -"

  "Anything. I'll try anything. This opening must be perfect." They lowered the curtain while Kate explained her suggestion to the stage manager. Bailey, a St Edwards sixth-former, not only liked the idea but wanted to improve upon it. He called down to Mr Coleman, "Please, sir, can we have half an hour to set this up. I want to try some special effects with the lights -"

  Mr Coleman and Miss Broakes went to the staff room for a cup of tea. Most of the others drifted off too, to take their half hour break in the dining-room - but Kate and Bailey worked on. The time was three o'clock.

  Exactly at that moment Kate's guardian was being greeted by a nervous Miss Jenkins in her office - and a moment later Miss Broakes was interrupted in the staff room by a summons to the Principal's office.

  Mark Averdale insisted he could only stay a few minutes. Certainly he did not want to sit through rehearsals for a wretched school play. Nevertheless he allowed himself to be led into the darkened auditorium. He was still bemused. He wanted to get away from these twittering women - to get back to London and think. Something would have to be done with this wretched girl. Suddenly every light went out and the hall was as black as night.

  The curtain rose slowly to show a drawing-room in semi-darkness. The light was so dim that Mark had to strain to see. Slowly certain items focused - bookcases on the right-hand side of the stage, opposite some french windows - and centre stage, at the back, a chaise-longue turned away from the audience.

  Mark had not been in a theatre for some time, but the arrangement seemed wrong to him - surely a chaise-longue should be facing outwards ... but then it moved slowly and Mark realised it was on a revolving stage.

  The lights increased just a fraction. Bookcases moved too ... the entire room seemed to be turning ... someone was on the chaise longue ... a girl, reclining, a spotlight picked up her ankles and the hemline of her green dress. She came more into view as the stage revolved. Something in her lap flashed in the light .... a hand-mirror. The rest of the set was in darkness. Just as the chaise-longue reached front centre-stage more spotlights blazed out to focus on the girl. A girl with flame-red hair! Mark went rigid. It was Rouen’s Girl with a Looking Glass! Right above him. Rouen's nymph - dressed in a shimmering gown of green silk. It was Rouen's nymph. The perfectly white skin, the flame-red hair, the arch of her neck, the long languid line of her body. Mark's heart raced. The girl raised the looking-glass in her left hand - then her right hand patted her hair. The pose was held for a fraction of time. She lowered the looking-glass and turned to stare out at the audience. Green eyes met his. The gap was only a few feet, but it was years long. Mark was transported back, to a studio in Chelsea before the war. The magic had lived after all!

  Coleman leapt to his feet applauding furiously. "Kate, that's truly adorable. Marvellous"

  Miss Broakes was on her feet too - "Oh Kate, that's just stunning ... that's absolutely stunning."

  Lord Averdale sat transfixed, staring up at the stage. Life had slipped through his fingers. What with Riordan, the war, .problems on the Bowley estates, troubles in Ulster, this wretched Labour Government ... fate had conspired against him. But none of that mattered if he had Kate. She had always been what he most wanted - above everything - even above Brackenburn and the Averdale Foundation. "Oh Kate," he whispered, "Oh Kate, I abandoned hope. Oh Kate, just eight weeks ago I got married!"

  Kate had to pinch herself to believe she had spoken to Mark Averdale as she did. Where had the confidence come from? Earlier that day she would have run a mile. The truth was confused - but Eddie Bailey had already said she looked "absolutely smashing" on the chaise longue - and Ronnie Blackwell had asked her out yet again (the sixth time in four weeks). The boys were good for her morale. They made her feel glamorous. So did Mr Coleman who was forever saying how lucky they were to have such a beautiful leading lady. But Eliza Doolittle was even more important - especially at the beginning of the third act. Eliza had blossomed by then, she had become a confident young lady, capable of twisting Professor Higgins round her little finger - and Kate was submerged in the part. So when Mr Coleman leapt to his feet, and dear little Miss Broakes beamed up at her - well suddenly everything worked. Seeing her guardian was a shock, but his face dispelled her fears instantly - gone was the scowl she had seen at Southampton, to be replaced by a look she remembered from childhood - of admiration, even of awe. When Ronnie Blackwell looked at her his eyes shone like that, so did Eddie Bailey's - so almost before she realised what she was doing she had smiled down from the stage and said, "Why hello."

  He came to every performance. Miss Broakes even had to change ticket numbers for him to have the same seat in the front row every night. And he sent flowers to her dressing-room, as if she were a real actress, which is how she felt for at least some of the time. Pygmalion was a gigantic success. Her photograph was in all the local papers. And night after night the audience gasped and applauded at the opening of the third act, when they saw her on the chaise-longue. And every night she took a dozen curtain calls. It was a marvellous week spoiled by only one thing - the absence of the Johnstones.

  On the last day of Pygmalion, a letter arrived from Jenny, full of news. She and Clayton Wells were to be married! Apparently he had called on Uncle Linc. There had been the most dreadful scene, but it was agreed that the marriage would take place almost at once. The bad news was that they were all leaving for Washington immediately, Clayton Wells included. "In fact I am mailing this from Victoria as we set off for the boat train. I do wish I could have seen you before we left. Mummy has calmed down a lot, though she says she will never forgive me. Daddy slipped into my room without her knowing last night - he says it will take Mummy time. We can't get her to talk about you, though I've tried and tried to explain that you had nothing to do with it, and that you haven't even met Clayton. Daddy says she will get over that too - he says once we get back to Washington she will miss you like mad. Oh Kate, I miss you NOW, without going back to Washington. You won't even be at my wedding! You haven't even met Clayton! Nothing has turned out the way I wanted, but I do love Clayton and I know he loves me. Daddy says that's all that matters - he is being wonderfully kind - and he worries about you too. He knows I'm writing and he sends his love - he will be back in London next March and says he will telephone you at Glossops ... and of course I shall write to you all the time, and send photos and things ... but oh Kate, I shall miss you so much."

  The first time Kate read the letter she wept for Jenny. The second time she wept for herself. Poor, muddled Jenny, getting married, having a baby, everything at once - but at least she had Uncle Linc to lean on, and Aunt Alison loved her too much to be angry forever. But Kate's life was empty. The Johnstones had abandoned her.

  Pygmalion was her salvation.

  Every day was taken up doing something for the show, and once she was on stage in the evening she lost herself in the part of Eliza. The entire week was a blur of conflicting emotions - ecstatic triumph at her curtain calls, but loneliness after - their room seemed empty without Jenny, despite the praise lavished on her by Rosemary and Angela.

  Pygmalion came to an end on the Saturday night. They gave their final performance. The boys of St Edwards presented her with an enormous bouquet - and then came a tremendous surprise. Vans arrived from Fortnum and Mason, waiters in dinner jackets seemed to emerge from everywhere - the whole cast was to be given a party in the school dining-room by Lord Averdale. The staff had known for days but had been sworn to secrecy. Miss Jenkins and Miss Broakes were there, looking very grand - and Mr Coleman too, more handsome than ever.

  Kate went as Eliza Doolittle, there was no time to change, besides her costume was more glamorous than her own frocks. But that was only part of th
e reason. Playing her role gave her confidence. Her guardian and Professor Higgins had merged in her mind, so she behaved towards him in the same slightly flirtatious manner as Eliza Doolittle used towards Professor Higgins. He seemed to like it, and it certainly helped her - and other people made allowances for once, they put her behaviour down to excitement, after all she was the star of the show. The two-hour buffet became an extension of her performance, to bring that incredible week to a giddy, glittering wonderful conclusion.

  But reality cannot be held at bay for ever, and at the end of the evening her guardian said, "I shall stay in Windsor tonight Kate, and tomorrow I'll collect you for lunch. We can spend the afternoon talking about the future."

  She hardly slept a wink. The future! How many times had she wondered what was to become of her. How many times had she prayed to stay with the Johnstones? But now the Johnstones had gone ...

  By the Sunday Mark Averdale had recovered from the succession of shocks which had assailed him since his return from Africa. So much had been bad - Molly's defection, the state of the nation, those lunatics in the Labour Party - and naturally the RUC seemed to have allowed that bastard Riordan to vanish from the face of the earth.

  The overwhelming discovery was Kate. He had to have her. He knew the instant he saw her. His entire life had been spent waiting for Kate...

  His marriage to Ziggy Beck was a ghastly mistake. It had seemed expedient, a clever way to resolve a commercial problem worth eight hundred thousand pounds over ten years. But that was before he'd seen Kate ...

  Over lunch on the Sunday he told her, "I must go to Ulster. Just for two days. Then we shall spend Christmas in London, at the Savoy. There's so much to talk about -"