The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  Stuart and Rosalind saw each other hardly at all during the frantic weeks of preparation. Being the only one of the three not busy in the daytime, Stuart was kept fully occupied and seemed to be enjoying every minute. For Rosalind exam time was approaching fast and she was working flat out. They spoke on the telephone regularly, exchanging all their news, and Rosalind looked forward to the time when all the work would be over and they could have some time to themselves again.

  It was on the evening before the auditions that Una paid a visit to the flat in Earls Court. Stuart came down to open the door to her and he saw at once that she was upset about something.

  ‘Oh, Stuart, can I come in?’ She turned a woebegone face to him. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got something terrible to say to you.’

  Full of foreboding he led the way upstairs where Julian was busy at his typewriter, working on some revisions that Monty had suggested. ‘There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the go, would you like a cup?’ Stuart suggested hopefully.

  Una nodded and sank into a chair. She said nothing until she had taken a sip of the coffee, then, taking a deep breath, she looked at the two faces watching her anxiously. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this,’ she said. ‘I’m so dreadfully sorry.’

  Stuart and Julian exchanged worried glances. Una’s demeanour suggested only one thing. She was pulling out of the project — their worst nightmare. Stuart braced himself and leaned towards her. ‘Please, go on,’ he urged. ‘Surely it can’t be as bad as all that.’

  ‘It is.’ Una pulled out a handkerchief and snuffled into it briefly. ‘It’s Don. He says he doesn’t see how he can possibly recoup his money and that he must — he has to — withdraw.’ She said the last word in a hushed whisper. ‘Oh God, what can I say?’ She looked from one to the other helplessly.

  ‘Not much you can say,’ Julian said in a flat voice. ‘Without the backing we can’t even get off the ground.’ He pushed the typewriter away from him in a gesture of finality. ‘So — that’s that. Finito! All our hard work up the Swanee, as they say.’

  Stuart chewed his lip. ‘The thing is, we’ve already hired the theatre. We’re probably going to have to pay for that anyway. Then there’s all the time we’ve put in on it. There’s the hall too. Auditions tomorrow. Christ! What a mess. We’ll be in hock up to our necks over this for years!’

  Una sighed. ‘I know. And I’m so sorry, boys, I can’t tell you … ’ She paused dramatically, twisting her handkerchief between her fingers. Stuart peered at her hopefully.

  ‘What are you thinking, Una? There’s something else, isn’t there?’

  ‘It’s nothing. Just some mad idea Don had. It’s too ridiculous even to mention. I couldn’t possibly expect you to … ’

  ‘Tell us! Anything to save the show,’ Stuart urged her.

  ‘Well … ’ She swallowed. ‘Don has this really silly notion. He started talking about it after the evening when you all came over to play the music for Monty.’

  ‘Yes?’

  She had their full attention now and went on: ‘He’s got the idea that he wouldn’t consider the money wasted if — if I were in the play. You see, he didn’t know me when I was working in the theatre and it’s always been his greatest disappointment that he’s never seen me perform. That evening when I sang the songs he was … ’ she looked at them from under her lashes ‘…well, quite bowled over, and … ’

  ‘But that’s fine. Just great!’ Stuart almost shouted. ‘It would solve everything, wouldn’t it, Julian?’

  His reaction was more guarded. ‘What part did you have in mind, Mrs Blake?’

  ‘Well, I think I’m mature enough to play Olive, don’t you?’

  Julian was relieved. If she’d had her heart set on playing the teenaged Violet they might as well have called the whole thing off here and now. Olive, she might handle reasonably well. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Well, if that’s all right with you, Mrs Blake, I’d say that we seem to have saved the day.’

  ‘And we’ve got you to thank for it, Una — again! What would we do without you?’ Almost hysterical with relief, Stuart went to the cupboard. ‘I’d say this calls for a little celebration, wouldn’t you? Brandy, both of you? Let’s drink to the success of Sweet Violet and the first member of our cast — Una Blake!’

  ‘Blair,’ she corrected, accepting the glass he handed her. ‘Blair is my stage name. That’s how my public remembers me and that’s the name I’d like to see on the programme.’

  ‘Right, Blair it is.’ Stuart raised his glass. ‘To the success of Sweet Violet and to its star, Una Blair!’

  *

  The auditions for Sweet Violet were held on a Friday afternoon in June. The boys arrived at the hall early, filled with excited anticipation. Monty arrived soon after and found them setting out chairs. Brian had taken the dust sheet off the piano and was running his hands experimentally over the keys.

  When Stuart announced that the part of Olive had already been cast, Monty’s eyebrows almost shot through the top of his head.

  ‘Who’ve you got?’ he asked. ‘It’s not really on, this, you know. I’ve got a really good girl lined up who’s set her heart on that part.’

  ‘Actually Una’s doing it,’ Stuart told him.

  Monty groaned. ‘Christ almighty! I should’ve guessed! I had an idea she had this in mind. How did she swing it on you?’

  ‘Oh, no, it wasn’t like that,’ Stuart assured him. ‘Her husband — you knew of course that he was putting up the backing — got slightly cold feet. But he said that he was prepared to take the risk if Una played the part.’

  That’s what she said, eh?’ Monty shook his head, tutting under his breath. So like Una to pass the buck. Obviously this was what she’d had in mind all along. Serve her right if she fell flat on her face on the opening night! Not that these kids deserved a flop. ‘Oh, well, if that’s the way it is, we’ll have to put up with it,’ he said resignedly. ‘Though I’m not looking forward to telling my girl the part’s been cast behind closed doors, I can tell you.’

  By the end of the afternoon the play was successfully cast. Even Miriam Gerard, who had had her eye on the part of Olive, accepted a lesser role with good grace. The actors were briefed and a rehearsal schedule handed out by Stuart who had now assumed the position of producer. Julian would direct and Brian would be musical director. They were in business! The three went out that evening to celebrate.

  *

  Rosalind went along to the school on the first morning of the exams with a stomach full of butterflies. So much depended on getting good grades. It meant so much to her to do well. No one had wished her good luck this morning. Her mother, totally preoccupied with the play, seemed to have forgotten all about the exams. Stuart too seemed incapable of thinking of anything else. Even her father, who had been writing regularly ever since he and Freda had arrived in Australia, seemed to have dropped the habit lately. She often thought about Cathy and pictured her enjoying her new and exciting life in Suffolk with her handsome husband. She’d looked so happy on her wedding day. It must be so nice to be loved and cherished; to feel so safe and wanted.

  But it doesn’t matter, Rosalind told herself as she walked to the bus stop. If I do well I’ll have only myself to thank. I’ll have done it without any support at all. And that’s the way I like it. The thought gave her a certain satisfaction, but deep inside she nursed a secret hope that once the play was under way Stuart would turn his attentions to her once more. She couldn’t help comparing her mother’s indifference to her with the fuss and effort she had gone to on the boys’ behalf.

  The exams were spread over four days and at the end of that time she felt drained. Walking home from the bus stop on Friday afternoon she felt strangely empty. The pressure was off. It was like having a burden suddenly lifted from her shoulders. She felt strangely light, as though she might blow over and float away in the first puff of wind. Nothing to do now but wait until August for the results and try not to think too much about all the questions
she wished she had answered differently.

  To fill in the waiting time and earn some money, she’d decided to ask at the Queen’s Head if they needed any extra help. Now that she was free from all her studies she could work behind the bar — turn her hand to anything. And it was all good practice for the day when she would manage her own hotel.

  She heard the row going on as soon as she put her key into the front door lock. Una and Don were going at it so hard that they didn’t even hear her come in. Her heart sank as she paused anxiously halfway up the stairs to eavesdrop.

  ‘Why didn’t you ask me first?’ Don was demanding. ‘How do you think this makes me look? My wife on the stage in some fleapit in Stoke Newington! Sponsored by me too!’

  ‘It makes you look a damn sight better husband than you are!’ Una yelled back. ‘Anyway they won’t know I’m your wife because I’ll be using my stage name — Blair.’

  ‘Oh? So my name’s only good enough for writing on the cheques, is it? That’s nice to know!’

  ‘You won’t complain when the money comes rolling in, will you?’ Una sneered.

  ‘If I don’t lose the lot, which is a damned sight more likely! I’ve been asking around and I reckon I’ve been taken for a ride. Everyone says that backing a play by a team of unknowns is like throwing money into a bottomless pit!’

  ‘Rubbish! What do any of your cronies know about the theatre anyway? Most of them think that Laurence Olivier is a cigarette manufacturer!’

  ‘You’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you?’ Don said. ‘You and that common little Montague man — you’ve set the whole thing up. Me and those three young chaps — just to get yourself back on the bloody stage again. And all at my expense!’

  ‘All I ever wanted to do was help the boys. I’m doing it for them,’ Una protested. ‘They begged me to take the part. They seem to think I’ll be the making of the show. How could I let them down?’

  Don gave a disbelieving grunt. ‘This was the only way you could do it, wasn’t it. You knew you’d never get another part unless you engineered one. I don’t believe they begged you to take the part. As usual you’re twisting the truth to suit yourself. And if you mess the thing up I’ll stand to lose a fortune.’

  ‘Well thank you very much for the vote of confidence!’ Una stormed. ‘They do want me to play the part. Ask them if you don’t believe me,’ she challenged, knowing that he wouldn’t. ‘Ever since the evening when they came here with Monty and heard me sing they’ve been obsessed with having me to play Olive. I can’t disappoint them now and I’m not going to. You just want me to be shut up in this mausoleum of a house, bored out of my skull all day!’

  ‘Don’t be so stupid, Una. I just can’t stand the idea of chucking away good money so that my wife can make a fool of herself, that’s all.’

  From where she stood on the stairs, Rosalind heard her mother striding angrily across the room in the direction of the hall. Quickly she whisked up the stairs out of sight.

  From where she stood on the landing she heard Una shout, ‘If you’ve such a poor opinion of my ability, if you think more of the money than you do of me, then perhaps I’d better move out. But don’t think you can take your money out of the play now that everything’s been settled.’

  Don hurried after her. ‘Una — listen. Come back, will you? Why do you always have to fly off the handle so?’ His voice had taken on the whining conciliatory tone that always meant that she had won. ‘If only you’d told me this was what you wanted,’ he said. ‘If you’d asked — talked to me about it. Why do you always keep things to yourself so? Can’t you see, it makes me feel so — so shut out.’

  Rosalind slipped into her room and closed the door. The row was all but over. As usual Don had rolled over like a whipped dog. Once more Una had got her own way, devious though it was. She pictured the scene downstairs. Una would probably shed a few winsome tears — enough to make Don feel a brute but not enough to puff up her eyes. Then she’d allow him to kiss her and for the next few days he would give her anything she asked for. Until the next time she did something outrageous.

  *

  Rehearsals went well. Julian and Brian were pleased with the way the cast was shaping. Stuart and a group of his art school friends had made and painted the scenery and Una had found a woman to make up the costumes. Elaine Frisby, a young divorcee, was a part-time alteration hand at Hallard’s. She had given up her place at art school to make an early, disastrous marriage and now she was studying in her spare time and taking what work she could to make ends meet. She had talent and imagination and jumped at this chance to work on a more creative job. The costumes for Sweet Violet were a challenge and a delight to her after the mundane every-day tasks she was paid for.

  She and Stuart seemed to strike up an instant rapport and with his help and advice she had worked long hours every evening at the sewing machine in her bedsit in Belsize Park. The costumes must be ready in three weeks, which would be hard work, but on the day of the dress rehearsal Elaine arrived at the Prince Regent theatre in a taxi with every costume ready for fitting. Everything was now in place. Cast and production team were on their toes, incandescent with excitement and nerves.

  *

  Rosalind arrived home at Blake’s Folly to find the house empty. It was ten-thirty, but with Una at the theatre so much of the time Don had taken to having his evening meal at the local pub. As she had her own meals at the Queen’s Head and worked unsocial hours the three hardly ever saw each other now that the play’s four-week run had started.

  As she closed the door behind her and switched on the hall light she saw that there was some mail lying on the doormat. She bent and picked it up. Two bills for Don and a blue air letter, addressed to her in a handwriting she didn’t recognise. She carried it through to the kitchen and opened it carefully with the aid of the bread knife. Glancing first at the signature, she saw with surprise that it was from Freda and dated a week ago.

  ‘My dear Rosalind,

  I am writing with the sad news that Ben was rushed into hospital yesterday morning with a heart attack. The doctors say it was brought on by overwork and strain, but that there is a good chance that he will recover with rest and care.

  If you would like to come out, dear, I know he would be so pleased to have you with him. I think it would make a great difference to his recovery. He has been very depressed and dwelling a lot on the past and what he sees as his neglect of you. He is badly in need of the reassurance your presence would give him.

  I’d dearly love to be able to send the air fare for you, but I’m not sure how long Ben will need to be in hospital or how much the doctor’s and hospital fees will cost us. There is no NHS here and unfortunately we hadn’t thought to join a private health scheme. Now that I am responsible for our finances I must take care of the money, especially as we cannot fulfil the rest of the engagements on our tour. I do hope you can understand this, Rossie. Please try to come, but don’t worry. He is in good hands.

  Hoping perhaps to see you soon.

  My love to you,

  Freda’

  Rosalind read the letter through twice more, her eyes blurred by tears. She had blamed her father for not writing when all the time he was ill in hospital — and worrying about her! Heart attacks were serious, weren’t they? Even though Freda played it down, her father must be very ill for her to write and ask Rosalind to go over. But how could she go? How much did it cost to fly to Australia? The sea fare was probably cheaper but even that would be beyond her means. Besides, a ship would take ages. By the time she got there Ben could be … She bit her lip, thrusting the thought firmly out of her mind. There was only one thing for it. Much as she deplored the prospect, she would have to ask Don for the money. Or at least, ask Una to ask him. She would pay back every penny as soon as she had a job.

  *

  Backstage at the Prince Regent there was an air of excitement. Monty had come round in the interval to tell them that Louis Jacobson was in front. Jacobson
was a theatrical impresario with a flair for promoting new talent. He had set several new playwrights on the road to success over the past five years and he had a string of successful shows running in the provinces and West End. Monty was very proud of the coup he had pulled off in persuading him to come and see the show.

  ‘So far he likes what he sees,’ he told a trembling, pale-faced Julian. ‘Get them to give it all they’ve got in the second act. I’m not promising anything, but by the look on that crabby old face of his, you might just be in with a chance.’

  *

  Una arrived home bubbling over with news. Rosalind was in her room but she could hear her mother downstairs, her words tumbling over each other as she told Don about something that had happened at the performance. When she heard her mother coming upstairs Rosalind went out on to the landing to meet her.

  ‘Mum … ’

  ‘Rossie. Off to bed already? Listen, you’ll never guess what happened this evening… ’

  ‘Mum, I’ve had a letter.’

  ‘Really? Louis Jacobson came to see the show. And he liked it! Afterwards he came back to make Julian a proposition.’

  ‘It was about Dad. He’s had a heart attack, Mum. He’s very ill.’

  Una stopped short to stare at her daughter. Trust Ben to spoil her big moment! ‘Heart attacks are nothing nowadays,’ she said dispassionately. ‘They can put them right just like that.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘He’ll be fine, you’ll see. Now — Louis Jacobson has suggested that the show should be a half-hour longer. He’s asked Brian to write two more numbers and he’s made a few suggestions that Julian is quite excited about. He thinks he can easily incorporate them into the plot and he’s going to work on them right away. If we do what LJ suggests and he approves, he’s going to send us on tour with the option of going into the West End!’ She threw back her head, laughing delightedly. ‘Just think, Rossie. Una Blair in the West End. It’s my dream come true! At last!’