One Night Only

by Sue Welfare

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Well, let me show you the way then,’ he said, and with that he slipped his arm through Charlotte’s. If Charlotte was shocked she didn’t show it; if she objected she didn’t say a word, and instead fell into step alongside him. Helen stared at the two of them.

  ‘Now,’ Leon said, leaning in a little closer. ‘Why don’t you tell me all about yourself, darling.’

  Vince, walking alongside Helen, grinned. ‘So you local too, are you, sweetheart?’ he asked as he moved closer. Helen nodded and kept her hands firmly stuffed into her coat and her elbows tucked tight in so that Vince didn’t get any similar ideas.

  TWELVE

  In the storeroom behind Finton’s Finest Toys, Natalia, Harry and Helen were busy holding a summit meeting. The camera had stopped rolling and everyone with an opinion that counted was standing in the huddle.

  ‘Look, Helen, you’ve got to see it from our point of view. You’ve been around long enough to know that what we’ve got here is good TV,’ protested Natalia. ‘This is just the kind of thing people love. Celebrity secrets, the whole love child angle was just too good to pass up on.’ She paused. ‘There’s been a lot of speculation in the office about who the father might be. People love that – you know, all that “who’s the daddy” stuff.’

  Helen stared at her; it took her all her effort not to gather the stupid, smug, young woman up by the neck and punch her. Natalia took her silence as an invitation to continue.

  ‘I mean everyone knows that over the years you’ve had relationships with some really famous guys –’

  Helen held her gaze. ‘You mean I’ve been around a bit.’

  ‘No, of course not – no, that’s not what I meant at all – but you can hardly blame people for trying to guess … Ralph Jones, Harry Lomax, Bill Farnham – it’s just human nature.’

  Helen had visions of them in the office, thumbing through the press cuttings, looking at the pictures, weighing up the odds, working out the dates. All this and she had had no idea that this was what they were planning. How on earth must Adam feel about it? Harry was clearly in shock.

  ‘I’m really concerned about how traumatic this is going to be for Harry and for Adam, Natalia.’

  ‘I know, I know, you’ve already said that, and I take your point, I really do,’ she said, holding up her hands in defence. ‘But where have you been for the last ten years? This is what we do. This is what people want now. It’s all about the story, and the secrets – that’s what Roots is famous for, for digging down and mining the juicy heart-rending kernel of the stories. You signed up for this; no one twisted your arm,’ she said, sounding defensive. ‘You knew what you were in for.’

  ‘It’s funny, my partner Bon said exactly the same thing. He said I knew where the bodies were buried, and you know what? I thought he was right. I was maybe expecting some revelations about my mum, but what I wasn’t expecting was to work with a production company who didn’t check their facts.’

  ‘But we did, we talked to Kate and to Harry – it was private adoption. We even have Adam’s birth certificate.’

  ‘Showing me as his mother?’

  Natalia nodded. ‘Showing you as his mother, father unknown.’

  ‘That is absolutely impossible,’ Helen sighed. ‘I think you should ring your boss and see what she has to say.’

  ‘We didn’t lie to you,’ protested Natalia.

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ snapped Helen. ‘You didn’t need to lie to me, because someone else was doing it for you.’

  ‘We thought this would potentially be a real happy-ever-after story.’

  ‘You mean awards territory,’ said Helen.

  Natalia blushed crimson.

  Harry looked as if he might burst into tears.

  Helen and Natalia, along with Harry, were in a corner of the stockroom which was so cramped they were practically standing nose to nose. Without a word Helen pulled out the folded sheet of paper with the filming schedule on it and handed it to Natalia.

  ‘We were supposed to be going to my old house and then having an early supper at the hotel,’ she said flatly. ‘Show me where it says we were coming to meet up with my long-lost son. Just bloody show me.’

  Natalia flinched. ‘Okay, okay, so it’s not on the list,’ she said after a moment or two more. ‘And we thought you’d know – we really did.’

  Helen glared at her.

  ‘And we had kind of assumed you would expect to come here. Working at a toy shop is part of the whole Helen Redford legend,’ said Felix, who until then had barely said a word.

  Helen raised her eyebrows. ‘The legend?’ she said, heavy on sarcasm.

  ‘You know what I mean, it’s part of the myth. The story of our heroine, homely everygirl, working in a shop out in the boondocks, who gets discovered and overnight becomes a rich and famous actress. It’s the stuff dreams are made of. Everyone wants to believe in fairy stories, Helen, and yours is pure Cinderella. Even the thing with your mum, the poor little girl growing up without her mother to guide her or see her success, with a distant uncommunicative father who spends more time at work than at home. It tugs at the heartstrings. And then you get a job in a toy shop with a kind old man and his gentle handsome son. We all loved it in the office. One minute you’re selling Barbie and next minute you are Barbie –’

  Helen stared at him and then shook her head. ‘I don’t know how you persuade people to come on your show if you treat them all like this.’

  ‘Because we’re good at what we do,’ said Natalia. ‘For a lot of them it’s almost like therapy. People want to find out about themselves, or have a chance to tell their side of the story, to set the record straight.’

  Felix nodded. ‘That’s right – it’s about setting the record straight, laying the ghosts to rest.’

  ‘And was all this on your schedule too, was it?’

  ‘Look, we’re sorry, I’m not sure what else there is we can say – and we’re going to your old house now, and then we’ll film at the theatre tomorrow,’ Natalia said.

  ‘And you think anyone is going to care about any of that if you leave this piece about Adam in?’

  ‘You know as well as I do, Helen – it’s all in the edit, what they decide to leave in, what they decide to leave out and what order they show it. We just go with the research and what we’ve talked about in the planning meetings.’

  Helen leaned in a little closer. ‘And what else have you got planned for me? A husband I never married? A soap opera I never starred in? Oh, I know. A whole family I never knew I had.’

  ‘I can’t discuss that,’ sighed Natalia. ‘I really can’t.’

  ‘Don’t you think that it might help if you did? I could perhaps stop you from ruining someone else’s life. It’s my family and my past that we’re talking about here.’

  ‘I know, but the whole Roots ethos is about discovery and revelations. It’s what we do.’

  ‘And you got it wrong. I thought this was going to be about my mum,’ said Helen, tears of frustration making her voice crackle and break.

  Natalia said nothing.

  ‘One of the reasons I’m doing this is because I thought I was ready to find out the truth about her. I’ve put this off for so long – and I finally thought it was time. When I was in Cannon Square I kept thinking that maybe she would turn up one day, you know, just pop out of the woodwork, walk onto the set and that I’d know her and we’d have this big scene – with hugs – and she would take me out and explain everything to me. What had happened and why, and that she had always loved me but just couldn’t come back. You’re right, just like in a fairy story and that suddenly I’d have all the answers. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have a mother who walks out on you, without so much as a word?’

  Natalia remained stock-still, although Helen could guess by her expression she was probably cursing the fact that the camera wasn’t rolling.

  ‘It is agonising and stunning i
n ways that you can’t put into words. I was six when she went. The last thing I remember is making bread with her in the kitchen. I was helping. I was standing on this little brown wooden chair. My dad loved homemade bread. You know how the smell fills the whole house? Even now when I smell it I’m straight back there, straight back to that moment, watching her knead the dough on a big wooden board on the kitchen table. She had tiny hands. She was wearing a wraparound apron and it was hot and a strand of hair kept dropping into her eyes. I can see her now – her pushing it away with the back of her hand, leaving a floury mark on her forehead. I loved her, and she kept looking at me and smiling and telling me what a good girl I was.’

  Helen looked at Natalia; Natalia, looking uncomfortable, looked away.

  ‘And then she was gone. And you know what? I still have no idea what happened to her. Not a clue. I’m a grown woman, and I’ve never been able to find out anything. Nothing. My dad never said anything about it, at least not to me, and as far as I can tell not to anyone else either. Not a word, not a single solitary word about her after she went. For all those years. He didn’t talk about her, he never mentioned her again and because he didn’t, no one else did either. Not friends, not family. Have you any idea what that’s like? What it does to you?’

  No one spoke.

  ‘One minute my mum was there and the next she was gone, like life closed over her and swallowed her up without so much as a ripple. And the thing is that those feelings don’t just end there. It used to make me wonder if it might happen again. If it could happen once, would my dad go the same way? Would I wake up one morning and be in the house all on my own? Have you any idea how afraid that makes you? I was afraid all the time, Natalia. All the time. I was six.’

  Natalia swallowed hard, her eyes bright.

  ‘Looking back I wondered if she died or left him; or was she murdered? Drowned? Did she run off with his best friend?’ Helen stopped. ‘Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about it? How many explanations I have come up with? How many excuses? How many theories? That was what I was hoping you would tell me about, Natalia, not this. Not something that is nothing to do with me.’

  Natalia glanced at Harry and then back at Helen. ‘It was because of your mum that we were really excited and interested by the whole Adam thing.’

  ‘That’s my son you’re talking about,’ Harry said. You would have had to have been dead to miss the pain and the anger in his voice.

  Helen glared at Natalia. ‘What you mean is like mother, like daughter. Is that it?’ When Natalia didn’t reply, Helen sighed. ‘You’d better let the rest of the hobbits in,’ she said. ‘They’ll be wondering what the hell we’re doing in here.’

  ‘I think it’s best if I go out there and have a chat with them. We need to regroup –’ Natalia said and then continued, ‘You know, Helen, most people we have on the show find the whole experience emotionally strengthening, you know, like really cathartic. It can be life-affirming if you let it; it can be a very healing and positive experience.’

  ‘You mean I should say that Adam is my son because it suits your idea of what makes good TV?’ Helen glanced across at Harry, pale-faced and bright-eyed. ‘Did you get all that from some sort of self-help manual?”

  Natalia sucked her teeth. ‘Roots sent me on a course; ‘Empathy in the Media’. Most of it was complete rubbish if I’m honest, but the American co-producers said we had to go for insurance purposes. Anyway, hold that thought, I’ll be back in a minute.’

  And with that she was gone.

  ‘What am I going to tell Adam?’ said Harry. ‘And Kate? What on earth have I done, Helen? This is a total disaster.’

  Helen took a long hard look at the place where Natalia had been standing and really wished that she had punched her.

  THIRTEEN

  Leon Downey was far looser with his money than with his tongue. Since the four of them had arrived at the Anchor he had bought the girls round after round of shorts, and appeared to be completely enraptured by Charlotte’s increasingly wild ideas and outrageous suggestions for their bright shiny future; although Helen noticed that Leon was being extremely circumspect about exactly what his involvement might be in her master plan. Helen also couldn’t help but notice that neither Leon nor Vince seemed to be drinking anywhere near as much as they were.

  ‘And then I was thinking that we should go to America.’ Charlotte was still banging on. ‘I mean that’s where the big money really is, don’t you think? Do you think that’s mad? I mean they like English things in America, don’t they? Lots of singers have gone out there and done really well. Have you got any contacts in Hollywood? You know I still can’t believe we didn’t win tonight. I mean it was crazy. I thought it was a sure thing. They loved us. You were there, you saw them, didn’t you? They went mad. We got an encore. It’s got to be some kind of fix, don’t you think? I mean the man who won was a magician,’ Charlotte snorted. ‘A magician.’ The sentences were running one into another as she downed another vodka and Coke. ‘A bloody magician. That is just bizarre, don’t you think?’

  It was coming up to closing time and the lounge bar had steadily emptied out over the last half hour or so, until there were just the four of them left sitting around a sticky Formica table, which was tucked away just out of sight of the barmaid. Next door in the public bar people were still drinking hard, their voices and laughter rolling in through the doorway behind the counter.

  It was warm in the lounge bar, there was piped music, a coal fire and carpets and a few large plastic plants set around the groups of tables making each area a little more private and intimate than the benches in the public bar. Charlotte, Helen and the two men were sitting in a corner booth. Leon sat right in the corner and had his arms stretched out along the back of the built-in leather banquette, his Crombie coat unbuttoned. He had one leg crossed over the other, his ankle resting on his knee, the master of all he surveyed. Charlotte was sitting to one side of him, all eyes, giving Leon the full benefit of her adoring smile and undivided attention. From time to time Leon made a show of patting Charlotte on the thigh. Helen couldn’t help but think the gesture looked tacky and proprietorial.

  Helen sat on the other side of him, making sure she was just out of reach, but nevertheless she was pinned in by Vince, who sat on the other side of her and who, so far, had said very little. She was making a real effort to stay at the midpoint between the two of them and out of harm’s way.

  The table they were sitting at was packed with empty glasses, full ashtrays and all of Charlotte’s dreams. Helen had decided after the first two drinks that there was no way she was going to drink all of the booze that Leon and Vince were plying them with. It didn’t take a genius to work out that they were trying to get the girls drunk. So, for the last hour she had been pretending to sip her drink, and then when the men’s attention was elsewhere had been pouring as much as she could into one of the pot plants standing alongside their table. There had been ample opportunity; no one was taking that much notice of what she was doing or saying. Charlotte was most definitely the centre of attention.

  ‘So,’ Charlotte said; she was talking loudly, using her hands for added emphasis. ‘All the Wild Birds need now really is a decent break and a good agent like you, Leon … and some bookings, isn’t that right, Helen? We’re both ready for the big time, and we’re prepared to do whatever it takes to get there.’ Charlotte took another pull on her glass, missed her mouth, and giggling madly, backhanded the splash of vodka and Coke off her chin. ‘Whatever it takes. Isn’t that right, Helen?’ she repeated, as she struggled to recover her composure. Her speech was getting steadily more slurred and her stage makeup was beginning to slowly creep down over her face like a colourful ebb tide.

  Leon patted Charlotte on the knee. ‘Well, that’s just fantastic, darling, and just the kind of thing we want to hear, isn’t it Vince?’ he said, before getting to his feet. ‘Now if you ladies will just excuse me, I won’t be a moment; just got to water the h
orse. Vince, do you want to do the honours my son and get us another round in?’ He pulled out his wallet and dropped a twenty-pound note onto the table amongst the debris.

  Vince nodded as Leon made his way to the gents. ‘You girls want the same again?’ he asked.

  Helen noticed that neither of the men’s glasses looked as if they had been touched.

  Charlotte nodded. ‘Uhuh,’ she said, licking her lips. ‘Vodka and Coke for me, no ice, slice of lemon, and do you reckon they’ve got any crisps?’ she said. ‘Only I’m starving.’

  ‘I’ll ask,’ said Vince, and then looked enquiringly at Helen. ‘And what about you, sweetheart, you want another vodka and Coke, do you?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘No thanks. I think I’ve had enough booze. Is there any chance I could just have an orange juice, please?’

  Vince grinned. ‘What pretty manners you’ve got. If that’s what you want, petal, then that’s what you shall have, are you sure you don’t want me to slip a vodka in there for you? Or how about a gin? The drinks are on Leon, you know.’ He waved the twenty-pound note around to underline the statement.

  Helen shook her head again. ‘No, thank you,’ she said.

  Vince leaned in a little closer. ‘You know, sweetie, you really want to loosen up a bit, be a bit more like your mate here. Have yourself a good time. Relax, Leon Downey is a very influential man. He’s got fingers in a lot of pies. Me and him have worked on all kinds of shows together over the years. Dancing, singing; it would really pay you to be nice to us. You know what I’m saying here?’

  ‘But I am being nice,’ protested Helen.

  Vince’s grin widened. ‘Well, it don’t seem much like it from where I’m sitting. Loosen up. We could be very good for you. In fact between the two of us we could open a lot of doors, get you seen by the right people, see you right. Leon’s very well known and I’ve got contacts in every theatre and music venue in town, not to mention lots of other places, so what I’m saying here is that I’d be extra nice if I were you …’ and with a leer and a wink he turned away. Helen watched Vince head over to the bar, clutching Charlotte’s empty glass and Leon’s twenty-pound note, wondering exactly what he meant.