*
Celia stormed into Gilbert's dressing room and threw a sheaf of papers in front of him. 'Look at what my idiot sister has done now.'
Gilbert held out his hand to catch hers and drew her towards him. 'Mm, you smell delicious,' he murmured as he buried his face into her soft bosom. 'I don't feel like going on stage, not tonight. Let's go back to our lodgings and go to bed, my sweetheart. Let's forget all for love.'
Celia giggled and pushed him away. 'Don't be silly, Gilbert. We can't risk our jobs. We can make love all night and sleep all day tomorrow, it's Sunday.'
'But by then you won't feel like it, you'll have a headache. Or you'll want to go to that tedious end of week party and make eyes at the leading man,' he teased.
'I promise not to do any of those things,' Celia said with a tinkle of laughter. 'But do look at those papers. Rosa's gone off her head. She's marrying that American and taking Jack to New York. She wants me to sell the business.'
'What?' Gilbert picked up the papers and swiftly scanned the letter. 'The money will come in useful,' he said slowly. 'What are these? Powers of attorney?'
'Something like that. But see how she's described me? She's said her sister, Mrs Gilbert Meadows. And I'm not!'
'Not for want of my asking you.'
Celia pouted. 'I don't want to be married. We only pretended when we went home, to save a fuss. It's so utterly bourgeois!'
'If we're not married these papers won't be valid, you won't be able to sell the business.'
'What? That's ridiculous.'
'You could ask Rosa to get a new power of attorney made.'
'But I don't know where she is, and I'd have to confess we tricked them, we're not married,' Celia wailed. 'I can't do that.'
'I suppose you could install a manager, but then you'd have all the fuss of interviewing and supervising him.'
'I won't. It's too bad of Rosa to expect me to take over because she is off to America with her boring Max.'
'Why has Jack gone too? All she says is there may be treatment for him there. What sort of treatment? And if he can be cured of whatever it is, won't he want to come home afterwards and carry on running the business?'
'I don't know.'
'We'd better go to Stratford soon and ask Winnie.'
Reluctantly Celia agreed, and on the following Sunday, on their way to Rugby, they went via Stratford. Winnie clasped Celia to her, alternately bewailing the departure of two of her nurslings, and complaining about Adam's perfidy in driving them to run away.
'What has Adam Thorn to do with it?' Celia asked, bewildered, and the whole story poured out.
'Adam was in a right state, threatening to put Jack in a madhouse!' Winnie fumed. 'Even said he'd pay if Jack was shut away in Glendossil.'
'Oh no! He couldn't!'
'Glendossil?' Gilbert asked.
'It's a private home – lunatic asylum – in Henley,' Celia explained. 'How could Adam? Jack's not insane.'
Winnie didn't seem to have heard. 'And I didn't know where the pair of them had gone for days, not until I got a letter saying that by the time it reached me they'd be on a boat to America.'
'So Rosa took Jack away to save him from Adam? Are the police looking for Jack?'
'They were, but when I showed them the letter they lost interest.'
'So if they hadn't gone, he might have been back in prison. Or committed. I don't expect they'll come back very soon,' Gilbert said slowly. 'Celia, you'll have to sell or put in a manager.'
'Well, whatever you do, I'm off,' Winnie stated. 'It's been enough of a madhouse here, with nobody knowing what to do, and customers complaining all the time. Not to mention the police and Adam bothering me every blessed day.'
'Where are you going?' Celia asked in alarm.
'To my sister's, in Warwick. She's been away or I'd have gone days ago. She was looking after Liza, her youngest. She was having another baby and hadn't been well. Now Muriel's home and I'm going to live with her, as I ought to have done years ago, when Mr Greenwood gave me my pension, only I thought it my duty to stay and keep an eye on you three. And look at the thanks I get!'
She marched away and Celia slumped in her chair. 'I won't stay here.'
'Will your father's solicitor see us today? If he won't we can come back next Sunday, it isn't far,' Gilbert said comfortingly. 'Why don't you let me telephone him and ask?'
*
Max woke suddenly, hearing the soft click of the latch as the door closed. He was reaching for his trousers as he confirmed that Jack's bunk was empty. He always locked the cabin door and kept the key under his pillow, but Jack had managed to filch it. He was exhausted, keeping constant watch on Jack, and must have been sleeping more deeply than usual.
Luckily Jack hadn't thought to lock the door when he left, and within seconds Max was racing along the corridor towards the nearest stairs. As he took them three at a time he saw Jack vanishing through a doorway onto the boat deck. He wore only his nightshirt, and was barefooted.
'Jack, old fellow? Felt like a bit of air?' Max asked softly as he came up behind Jack.
Jack turned and glared at him. 'Go away. I don't know who you are. Leave me alone.'
He moved along the rail and Max edged slowly after him. Until now Jack had been submissive, easily managed, and if kept occupied showed no signs of his odd tendency to behave in a bizarre fashion. Was that compliance over? Yet Jack genuinely seemed not to know him. Could Max persuade him to return to the cabin without attracting a fuss? He had to. Although Jack and Rosa were travelling as visitors to the States, the immigration rules were strict. If Jack were accused of insanity he would be denied the opportunity to apply for residence in the future, and it would be a long time before he could return safely to England.
Then Jack began to clamber onto the top of the rail and Max sprang forward. 'Jack, don't be a fool, you'll fall in,' he said calmly dragging him back.
Jack looked puzzled. 'I live there.'
Max breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't violent or aggressive. He gently urged him towards the door. 'What do you mean?'
'That's my home.'
'The sea? No, your home's downstairs, in the cabin. Until we reach New York. Come back to bed, Jack.'
'I want to go home. They're waiting for me, they can't move on till I go back.'
'Who? Who's waiting?'
'The others. The school,' Jack said a trifle impatiently, but didn't resist as Max manoeuvred him through the doorway and towards the stairs.
'School? You'll have to explain, Jack, I'm being dense. What school? Do you mean the crowd that play bridge all day long?'
Jack laughed scornfully, but walked down the stairs. 'That lot? Of course not. The whales.'
'Whales? The ones we saw this afternoon, following the ship?'
As they came to the foot of the staircase two men, deep in talk, came towards them. They raised their eyebrows when they saw Jack in his nightshirt and Max in hastily donned trousers and an unbuttoned shirt. Max smiled reassuringly at them. 'My brother-in-law, he was sleepwalking,' he said cheerfully, and they nodded and went on.
Jack hadn't noticed them. 'Of course. I don't know how they got me on board, but I'm going back now.'
'Jack, you're not a whale,' Max said patiently, feeling ridiculous.
'Of course I am. I was swimming with them, it was so peaceful, so much space, no noise, and then somehow I found myself in bed in a tiny room. I want to go back.'
By now they had reached the cabin and Jack permitted Max to push him in. 'Where's the key?' Max asked, and Jack, looking puzzled, felt in the pocket of his nightshirt. He brought out the key, looked at it in bemusement, but allowed Max to take it from him. Then he sighed, sat down on the bed, and lay back obediently when Max gently pushed his shoulder. Within seconds he was asleep, breathing deeply and evenly, a contented smile on his face.
Max sat on the edge of his bunk for a long time, staring at him. Thank goodness they only had one more night after this one, and
then would be in New York. Soon Jack could be in hospital with proper nursing care.
Ought he to tell Rosa about this strange notion of Jack's? It would worry her, and there was nothing she could do about it. If Jack behaved normally in the morning he would say nothing, Max decided. He would explain to his uncle and the doctors, but Rosa had enough to trouble her without another odd episode to worry her. He would, though, make sure the key was tied to his wrist for the remainder of the voyage, and he wouldn't let Jack out of his sight for one moment. With a weary sigh Max checked the door was locked, found some string to tie the key to his arm, and flopped back in his bunk, too tired to remain awake.
*
Rosa stood on deck, watching the amazing New York skyline draw closer. Max, by her side, was pointing out some of the tallest buildings. 'There's the Great Western Company tower, it's one of the oldest skyscrapers. And over there's the Woolworth Tower, and the Bayard Building.'
'I still can't believe it,' Rosa said quietly. 'It seems so short a time ago I was walking by the river in Stratford, never dreaming this might happen.'
'Jack seems better already,' Max said encouragingly, glancing to where he stood a few feet away, as absorbed in watching the city draw nearer as they were.
'He's still calm, unnaturally so. But he does seem to be taking more interest in things.'
Rosa was tired. She had been in a fret of anxiety throughout the voyage that Jack would suddenly revert to one of his violent, unreasonable moods. She and Max had kept unceasing watch, found diversions to amuse Jack and keep him as far as possible apart from the other passengers, but they were always afraid that an incautious word might precipitate a scene which could lead to disaster.
At least she had been able to relax at night, Rosa thought. Max had shared a cabin with Jack, and had to remain alert even while trying to sleep, while Rosa had shared with the young daughter of some Texans who had been touring in Europe. Instead of relaxing, though, her mind had been churning with different anxieties. Did Max really want to marry her? One part of her longed to abandon everything, forget all her fears, and let Max arrange the marriage. She could not be quite sure it was what he really wanted, though. He'd offered it in an impulsive moment to try and save Jack, and he'd never mentioned it throughout the voyage. Perhaps he was trying to think of a way to tell her he didn't mean it, and now they were in America anyway, safe from the police in Stratford, there wasn't any need to carry through with it.
Max spoke quietly so that Rosa only just caught his words. 'We'll take Jack to my apartment. There are two bedrooms, and he can share with me until we can place him in the hospital. I'll take him to see my uncle as soon as I can arrange it. And then we can have some time to ourselves, plan our wedding.'
'There's really no need,' Rosa protested, but just then Jack caused a slight diversion by attempting to scramble up onto the rail.
Max moved swiftly to grasp his arm. 'Come on, Jack, we'll go and have a cocktail before dinner. By then we'll be close to docking.'
Jack nodded and Rosa gave a sigh of relief. Jack had discovered a liking for trying new cocktails, and could usually be distracted by an invitation to have one. She dreaded to think what this was going to mean once they were in America, subject to prohibition.
'How will we manage on land?' she asked Max while Jack was busy interrogating the barman about the ingredients of his latest drink.
'Don't worry,' Max said with a grin. 'We don't all support prohibition, and there's plenty of alcohol available, at a price, especially in New York. We'll have whatever he wants at home, so Jack won't be deprived. Not until he's in hospital, at least.'
Soon afterwards Rosa had no more time for worry. The ship docked, and Max whisked them through the customs. As ostensible visitors there were few formalities, and Max had persuaded Rosa they needn't concern themselves about anything more permanent until they saw what his treatment did for Jack, and whether he would want to remain or return to England.
'And when we are married you'll have no problems,' he promised.
Rosa's worries, instead of being banished by this, returned. 'Max, we must talk about it,' she said urgently, but he shushed her and urged her to follow Jack into the taxi.
'Later. When Jack is settled.'
She nodded, and sat back to enjoy the drive, marvelling at the huge buildings all around her. Max pointed out various landmarks, and promised a longer tour on the following day. 'But first you'll need to have a good sleep. Here's my apartment.'
It was a modest building by New York standards, but the rooms were spacious, and the huge windows looked out across Central Park. Rosa was enchanted with the view, but so weary she was thankful to retreat to bed in the small spare room. Soon she would be able to talk to Max properly, and persuade him that his gesture in offering to marry her was quite unnecessary. It couldn't, after all, be what he really wanted.
*
'I quite understand why your sister felt it necessary to remove Jack,' Mr Brinkley said with a sigh. 'Of course, it would have been better had he stayed and fought the charge Mr Thorn laid against him. It might not have been impossible to disprove it. And if Jack is ill, still suffering from shell shock, he needs treatment.'
'That's what he's getting in America,' Gilbert put in. He was irritated with the man's pomposity. 'If he'd been sent to prison again, or to a lunatic asylum, would he have received the treatment we think essential?'
'You are making unjustified assumptions,' Mr Brinkley said stiffly. 'However, we cannot now do anything about that. These powers of attorney for your wife appear to be valid. You wish to sell the business?'
'It's collapsing already,' Celia said, her voice high with concern. 'Winnie's gone, and one of the drivers, and poor Sid and his uncle are left trying to run everything.'
'Could you not give up your acting and come home to see to it?'
Celia glared at him. 'You can't have the faintest notion how difficult it is to become established. If I gave it up now, just when I'm getting somewhere, I'd have to start all over again. No, that's not possible.'
'If it were your duty?'
'Fiddlesticks! It's Jack's duty, not mine. Besides, I haven't the least idea how to run a carrier's business. And I don't intend to begin learning.'
'Very well, I will set it in motion, though with business conditions as difficult as they are I doubt if I can obtain anything like what it's really worth.'
'Just sell it, please.'
'Then if you will sign these papers I have prepared, Mrs Meadows?'
Celia thankfully took the pen he offered her, dipped it in the inkwell, and scrawled her name across the topmost paper. Mr Brinkley picked it up and scrutinised it.
'Mrs Meadows,' he said slowly, 'you have signed in your maiden name, Celia Greenwood.'
'But – but that's the name I use on the stage,' Celia stammered. 'It – it's the name I'm known by.'
'But the power of attorney gives your name as Celia Meadows, and that is what it has to be on these papers.'
'Oh, very well,' Celia snapped, and took the paper back again. 'Shall I just cross out the other?'
'And initial it please. Thank you, Mrs Meadows, and now these. Thank you.'
'Is that all? We have to catch a train,' Celia said standing up and pulling on her white lace gloves.
'I can proceed when I have your marriage certificate. That's just a formality, of course, but necessary.'
'I – I don't have it here. I – I don't carry it about with me.'
'Then perhaps you can send it by post or bring it to me the next time you come. I cannot proceed until I have it, I'm afraid.'
'What am I going to do?' Celia wailed half an hour later when they were on the train. 'I don't have a marriage certificate. Oh, how could Rosa have made such a mess of things.'
'Rosa thought we were married, darling. It's not her fault.'
'She'll have to send me new powers of attorney from America. But I don't know her address.'
'We could trace her through Ma
x's firm, if necessary, but surely she'll write soon.'
'It could take months to find her, and by then Jack will be in this hospital she mentioned, and probably worse and not able to sign.'
'There's an easier way. We can be married at any time. You're twenty-one now,' Gilbert said cheerfully. 'You know I've always wanted to marry you, it was you who refused.'
'I don't want to be married. It isn't that I don't love you, Gilbert, I do, I simply adore you and I always will, but marriage is so ordinary, so plebian.'
'It's the only way you can sell the business.'
'Then I won't sell it.'
'You only legally own a quarter of it, the rest belongs to Rosa and Jack.'
'I'm sick of it. I don't want anything to do with it. They can come home and deal with it. Oh no, someone's heading this way to come into our compartment. Gilbert, stand by the door and block it.'
It was too late, a woman with three noisy young children and an even noisier babe in arms entered the compartment. By the time they left half an hour later Celia was seething with frustration.
'If we had the money from the business we could buy a motorcar,' Gilbert suggested. 'That would make these tedious journeys much pleasanter. We could stop for picnics, we could even find secluded spots to make love. Think of it, rustic idylls beside gently flowing streams, under the branches of gently swaying trees. Much more romantic than lumpy feather beds in theatrical lodgings.'
Celia was torn, and then she laughed. 'Oh, Gilbert, what does it matter? I'll have to marry you, I suppose. I could wring Rosa's neck for putting me in this position!'
*
Within a week Max's uncle arranged for Jack to be admitted to a hospital near Washington, and Rosa was suddenly rootless. She had been left in charge of a still meek and subdued Jack while Max went to consult his uncle, and to his office to collect work he could do at home. It had been a tense and worrying time when she dared not relax for a moment in case Jack escaped from the apartment. Max had hired a car to drive them to the hospital, and when they had seen Jack installed Rosa felt deflated instead of the anticipated relief.
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