by Sue Welfare
Harry shook his head. ‘Oh, Charlotte, why didn’t you tell me the truth?’
‘Because I was afraid you’d leave me. I’ve always known that you did it for Helen,’ said Charlotte. ‘You thought you were rescuing Helen’s baby and that one day she’d come back for him and come back for you too.’
Harry flinched as if she had slapped him. ‘How could you think that? You think I’m that shallow? Bloody hell, Charlotte. You’re right, I did love Helen. I do love her, but I love you too, Charlotte. I couldn’t have married you if I hadn’t loved you. I watched you with Adam, how lovely you were and how hurt, and I saw another side to that spiky sharp person you show everyone when you feel threatened. I saw past all that. I always have.’
It was Charlotte’s turn to look stunned. ‘I thought you felt sorry for me,’ she murmured.
He laughed. ‘Well, I did, but that wasn’t what made me marry you. Do you think I kept coming up to Scarborough all those times just to see Adam? I wanted to see you; I fell in love with you, Charlotte. I loved you then, I love you now –’ he looked at Adam. ‘I love you both.’ And with that he swept Adam and Charlotte into his arms.
Helen stayed back, the tears running down her face.
‘Excuse me,’ said a voice from outside the dressing-room door, ‘Can we come in now?’
Helen got up and opened the door just a crack; the film crew were outside pressing themselves into the open gap like puppies trying to get into a warm kitchen.
‘Can you give us a few more minutes?’ said Helen, holding up a hand to stem the tide; although it was couched as a question it was obvious what the answer was.
Natalia sighed. ‘Can we just get a run down of what happened in there?’
Helen glanced back into the dressing room. ‘Maybe later,’ she said. In the dressing room Charlotte had stepped away and was wiping her eyes, Adam looked pale and teary, and Harry was getting himself sorted out, patting his pockets, straightening his tie, making a show of getting ready to leave.
‘Just let them in, Helen, I think we should be going home,’ said Harry. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about, and we’ve no need to do it in front of the cameras.’
Adam nodded. He smiled a funny lopsided smile at Helen. ‘I was hoping that we’d sort this out,’ he said. ‘You and me and Mum and Dad. I thought that we’d got a lot to talk about. Building a bridge, getting to know each other. I never imagined that it would turn out like this.’
Oblivious to the crew pushing their way back into the dressing room Helen nodded and put her arms around him. ‘I’m so sorry, Adam, I had no idea about any of this. I never had any children – sometimes I wish –’ she stopped and smiled, ‘I could always be your auntie …’
Adam held her tight and then, pulling away, shook his head in disbelief. ‘All these years,’ he said, ‘I thought you’d rejected me.’ He glanced at Charlotte. ‘I love her, you know, even though she’s done all this. Does that sound mad?’
‘No, of course it doesn’t,’ said Helen. ‘She’s always been your mum, Adam, whether or not she gave birth to you wasn’t the thing – and you have to remember that. Your mum loved you from day one. She could have given you up and come home without you, but she didn’t.’
Adam looked at Charlotte and nodded. ‘It’s hard to get my head around all this.’
Harry took hold of Adam’s arm. ‘Come on, son. Time to go home – we’ve got a lot to talk about.’ And then turning to Helen he said, ‘We’ll be all right. We’ll be able to sort things out. Come on, Charlotte. Let’s go home.’
Charlotte moved more slowly. She looked drained and defeated. ‘I just need a minute,’ she said. ‘You go on. I won’t be long.’
The two men stepped outside.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Charlotte to Helen the moment the door was closed.
They were two words that Helen had never expected Charlotte to say about anything.
‘I’d like to say I understand, but I don’t,’ said Helen.
Charlotte smiled ruefully. ‘I’m not sure that I do now. Looking back it seems like a different lifetime. I was a different person then. At the time it seemed like you had it all; the talent, the voice, the big break …’
‘I thought the same about you,’ said Helen. ‘Big house, rich daddy …’
Charlotte laughed. ‘And a lot of good it did me.’
‘What I’ve done, all the things I’ve done over the years,’ said Helen gently. ‘They didn’t just fall in my lap, you know. I had to work and it came at a cost. I didn’t have family.’ She paused. ‘And I haven’t got Harry –’
Charlotte looked up at her. ‘No, you haven’t, have you?’
‘I was really surprised when I found out you hadn’t gone to teacher-training college.’
‘It was so stupid,’ said Charlotte. ‘Talk about cutting your nose off to spite your face. I wanted to show my dad and you and everyone else that I could still do it, even without you. Vince got me into this show in Scarborough – so there we are, you took your chance and I took mine – and I blew it.’
‘Vince,’ said Helen looking towards the door. ‘Adam –’
Charlotte nodded and then blushed furiously. ‘He came to find me after that night with Leon. I saw him on Sunday when I was on my way home from Harry’s flat, and he said he’d heard what had happened and that maybe it had been for the best. And then he said he knew someone who’d got this show coming up, up on the coast. They were looking for girls – no funny business and I’d be able to get an Equity card.’ Charlotte snorted. ‘That was a lie, but the work was real enough. I was there eighteen months and I was doing quite well and then Vince showed up out of the blue. He said he wanted to take me out, said I owed him and that if he’d been my agent I would have had to pay him a percentage. He was half drunk, half joking but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so we started seeing each other. It was never going to go anywhere. He was such a sleaze. Anyway, after a couple of months, after he’d had what he wanted he just cleared off. Things weren’t great on my own, but they were doable. The show was doing okay, and there was always the chance that something better would come out of it. But I wasn’t eating properly, I was working all sorts of odd hours and just never felt well. It didn’t occur to me that I might be pregnant. And then when I realised I was, I kept thinking it wasn’t happening – that if I ignored it, it would go away.’
Charlotte stopped. ‘I really need to go and talk to Adam and to Harry.’ She backhanded a flurry of tears away and opened the door to the dressing room. ‘You know, I’ve missed you.’
Helen laughed. ‘You were horrible to me.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘Not always. I was just jealous – you always were the one with the talent.’
Helen said nothing, remembering how many times she had looked at Charlotte and her life with envy. Maybe the grass was always greener.
‘Maybe we should meet up and have a proper talk, have dinner or something. I know Harry would like that,’ said Charlotte. ‘And Adam. I don’t know if I can put it right, Helen.’
Helen sighed. ‘I’m sure you can. They both love you.’
Charlotte picked up her bag. ‘Good luck for tonight.’
‘Thank you,’ Helen said. She had almost forgotten that she was on stage in couple of hours.
‘Are you coming to the show?’ asked Helen.
‘We’re meant to, according to that girl with the TV crew we’ve got tickets, but we’ll see,’ said Charlotte.
Helen nodded. There was an awkward moment when both women hesitated, Helen could see that Charlotte was weighing up whether to embrace her or not. In the end it seemed Charlotte decided against it and turned to leave.
At the door Helen stopped her. ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Just one thing – Harry told me that you used to go and visit my dad after I left.’
Charlotte nodded. ‘That’s right. He was really kind to me. He was so proud of you, you know.’
Helen sighed, struggling to control the ache in her chest. Sh
e didn’t have any idea how her dad felt about her. All those years, all those long empty evenings, the endless silences, the awkward phone calls, he’d never once told her that he was proud of her. ‘And what about Adam? Harry said you used to take him too.’
Charlotte’s expression softened. ‘Your dad loved seeing him. I know what you’re thinking, Helen, and the answer is no. I never passed Adam off as his grandson – there are some things even I wouldn’t stoop to. He knew exactly who Adam was and he knew all about me and Harry and the lie I’d told.’ Charlotte paused. ‘He told me that I should put things right, that it was worse for people to find out the truth than be told it – that way I could choose when I told people, when I was strong and ready. And he was right. I should have said something a long long time ago.’
And then Charlotte turned, pulling the door closed behind her, and was gone. Helen turned round biting her lip, eyes full of tears, for the first time aware that the camera was rolling.
TWENTY-TWO
Natalia, just out of camera shot, glanced down at her notes. ‘So do you ever get nervous before doing a show?’ she asked.
Helen, who was putting the finishing touches to her hair in the big mirror above the dressing table, leaned back and smiled. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? Of course I do. Who wouldn’t be nervous if they’d got a camera crew following them around all day watching their every move?’
‘I meant nervous about tonight,’ said Natalia. ‘And it’s been a very emotional couple of days for you.’
Helen decided not to take the bait. It had been a little while since Charlotte, Harry and Adam had left, and Helen was doing her very best not to hold an impromptu postmortem. She needed time to think about the things that had happened.
It was hard. Natalia had got curiosity down to a finely honed torture and no amount of telling her that she wasn’t going to talk about Charlotte, Adam and Harry seemed to satisfy her; but then Arthur had turned up with flowers and champagne – better late than never – and with his arrival the tone had subtly changed.
‘I do get nervous, but not as much as I used to. It used to be really bad when I first started out, but these days I’m fine, and I think a little nervous energy is good for your performance, you know, sharpens you up. And television was different – not like performing in front of a live audience.’
‘And it’s a big night tonight for you, isn’t it?’
Helen brushed powder onto her face to kill the shine. The camera crew behind her were trapped in the mirror’s reflection, the cold hard Cyclops’ eye of the camera staring at her unblinking. It had been a big night in so many ways. Arthur, sitting behind them, watched but didn’t say a word.
‘That’s right, it’s the first time out for a run of one-woman shows I’m doing around the country over the next few months. I think we’ve got twelve dates booked in all, something like that, and it all starts here.’
Natalia nodded. ‘Which is apt, as your whole career started out here.’
‘It feels like a nice touch,’ said Helen warmly. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve toured with my own show, and coming back to Billingsfield makes it extra special.’
‘And how long is it since you’ve been back?’ Natalia pressed. Helen smiled, wondering how many times Natalia had asked her that question over the last two days. It felt as if Natalia was trying to catch her out, or drive her into a corner that she couldn’t escape from.
Helen blotted her lips. ‘Far longer than I’d care to remember. It feels like a lifetime since I was in this theatre. It’s a lot more glamorous these days. Last time I was here I didn’t have a dressing room to myself; I was sharing a dressing room upstairs with the chorus and all the rest of the female acts.’
‘So, have you got anything you want to share with us now you’re back in your home town in amongst all the memories, all the old faces and places?’
Helen considered her reply for a moment. It felt much worse and much better than she had ever dreamed, but Helen didn’t say that. In fact she didn’t say anything, because before Natalia could press her for an answer there was a sharp knock on the dressing-room door, which made them all jump.
‘Supper, Miss Redford?’ said a disembodied voice from out in the corridor.
‘Thank you,’ Helen called, and then turning to the film crew said, ‘If you’ll excuse me I really need to eat and finish getting ready now.’ As she spoke she indicated the robe she was wearing.
There was an odd little pause. It was obvious they hadn’t expected to be asked to leave while Helen got dressed. ‘I thought you’d be going back to the hotel or something,’ said Natalia.
Helen shook her head. ‘I ordered in. I wasn’t sure what the plans were and I need to eat before I go on.’ Helen didn’t add that she didn’t want them trailing after her; providing a running commentary on her every mouthful, her every thought, was exhausting.
Reluctantly Natalia got to her feet, the rest of the crew taking their cue from her.
‘Okay, we’ll cut it there then,’ she said. ‘Seems like a natural break. We’ll leave you to it then, Helen, and pick it up later. Give you a few minutes’ peace,’ she added, with a chirpy little smile that didn’t quite hide her annoyance. ‘You that know that Felix is going to film you as you go up onto the stage?’
Helen nodded.
‘And you’re okay with that?’
‘Absolutely fine.’
‘Right, well okay in that case we’ll be off. Break a leg,’ said Natalia, heading towards the door.
‘See you later,’ said Helen, turning her attention back to the mirror. As they opened the door, a man came in with a picnic basket.
‘Well, that went well,’ said Arthur, who had been sitting out of camera shot in the one comfortable chair in the room. He thanked the man, tipped him and took the basket.
‘You want me to be mother? What have we got?’ He said, sliding the basket onto a side table. Arthur paused, catching her gaze in the mirror. ‘At least you managed not to punch her.’
Helen laughed. ‘It’s been touch and go, and there’s still time. You can eat too if you like – there should be plenty for both of us. Do you want to unpack it? I just need to get my dress on.’
‘I’d rather help you with that,’ Arthur purred.
‘Down, boy,’ said Helen. ‘I’m just hoping for a hand with the zip.’
‘Days were you’d have a dresser,’ said Arthur, peering into the top of the picnic basket. ‘I think Tally might be free if you want me to book her.’
‘I hate all that fussing about, Arthur, you know that. I like to keep things easy, low key, private. And anyway I’ve got you, haven’t I?’
‘You mean I’ll do.’
Helen turned. ‘That isn’t what I mean at all.’
He smiled. ‘It was here, wasn’t it?’ he said, glancing round. ‘All those years ago. I parked round the back and wandered round to where they used to have that tea van. Do you remember? It only seems like yesterday. I keep thinking about us, about all the things we’ve been through together –’ he began haltingly.
Helen laughed. ‘Well, don’t think, Arthur. Just get the food sorted out.’
‘This looks good,’ he said, peeling open a box. ‘What’s in the flask?’
‘There should be chicken noodle soup, and some wraps. Oh and juice. I wasn’t sure what Roots had got planned for me so I decided it would be better to be prepared. And thank goodness I did; there wouldn’t be time to go out and get something now. I got the hotel to send it over.’
Arthur pulled a face. ‘All sounds horribly healthy. Did you order any booze? How about I open the champagne?’
Helen shook her head. ‘Can we save it until after the show’s finished? Do you mind?’
‘Of course not. Is there something sweet in here? Crème caramel maybe, or a tiramisu?’ he said, sifting through the containers.
‘Fresh fruit salad.’
‘You’re kidding me?’ he said with disgust. ‘I was hoping you might at le
ast have ordered cake?’
‘I didn’t want anything too heavy before going on. And no dairy – not while I’m singing.’
Arthur sighed. ‘Ah well, in that case I think maybe I’ll pass on the picnic. Nice flowers,’ he added conversationally, glancing at the bouquets arranged on a shelf that ran along one wall. ‘And lots of good luck cards too,’ he added, leaning in closer to peer at the signatures and salutations.
While he was busy Helen slipped off her robe and slithered into her costume.
She had had three made for the tour. This one was copper coloured, boned and cut on the bias, making the most of her slim waist and curvy hourglass figure. Not that Arthur was paying that much attention. His mind appeared to still be on the flowers. Helen laughed. How times had changed, she thought, as he peered myopically at the cards fixed to the wrappings.
‘Golden boy send you flowers, did he?’
‘Yes. The roses.’
‘The pink ones?’
‘Uhuh.’
Arthur sniffed. ‘Not very imaginative. Have you heard from him today?’
‘No, but he’s really busy with this new show.’ Helen rolled her eyes. ‘And stop sounding so hard done by. You had your chance, Arthur, remember?’
‘I know, how can I forget? But I was thinking perhaps we were too hasty. We’re older now, we understand each other. I’m more tolerant now, more patient.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ laughed Helen. ‘Can you stop moaning and zip me up?’
‘I thought he’d get something more impressive.’
Helen laughed. ‘Just tell me you’re not jealous.’
‘I’m not jealous,’ Arthur said in a monotone. Helen slapped him playfully with the back of her hand and eased the dress up over her hips, and then she stopped.