The Lost Daughters: A moving saga of womanhood

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  Deeply moved, she went into Freda’s open arms and the two women clung to each other as the tears flowed.

  ‘He talked about you all the time, you know,’ Freda told her. ‘He was so proud of the way you’d grown up. He was looking forward so much to your coming out to spend a holiday with us.’

  ‘I wish I could have been in time to see him,’ Rosalind whispered. ‘I wish — oh, I wish I’d come out with you when you asked me. I’ll always regret that.’

  ‘No, you mustn’t. You wanted to see your exams through. He respected that.’ She held Rosalind at arm’s length. ‘You’ve taken them?’

  ‘Yes. The results should be through any day now.’

  ‘You’ll pass with flying colours, I know you will. Ben knew it too.’

  Rosalind looked at her watch apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, Freda, but I’ll have to get back to Reception now. But I’ll be off at two. We could have a late lunch together if you like?’

  *

  Over lunch Freda told Rosalind that she would be seeing her agent while in London. ‘Monty was shocked to hear about Ben,’ she said. ‘But I think — hope — he has some work lined up for me. When I got your letter I thought I could see him too while I was in town so I gave him a ring. I really need to work, Rossie.’

  ‘I know, Freda. Look — about Dad’s will … ’

  ‘Oh, not for the money,’ Freda interrupted. ‘I need to work because singing is my life. Without it, I’m nothing, especially now that Ben’s gone.’ She reached across to lay a hand on Rosalind’s arm. ‘And before you go any further about this will, Ben and I talked all that through. I know what a tough time you had after your parents parted. Ben always felt really bad about it. He wanted to make it up to you in whatever way he could and we both agreed that he should leave you everything he had, the cottage included. He went along and sorted it all out before we went to Australia.’

  ‘But it was half yours!’

  ‘No. Ben bought it with money he had saved after we started doing well. All I did was persuade him that it was a good investment. He got the place very cheaply.’

  ‘Dad was hopeless with money. You must have persuaded him to save in the first place. You advised him to buy it, and you helped him restore it. You loved it.’

  Freda silenced her with a shake of her head. ‘No. I loved him, Rossie. I had my reward; the six wonderful years we shared. We both wanted the cottage to be yours. It was a good investment. Property is going up and you should get a good price for it. You deserve it, love. So let’s hear no more.’

  *

  Freda went up to see Harry Montague the following morning and the moment she arrived back at the hotel late in the afternoon Rosalind could see by the look on her face that she had good news.

  ‘I’ve got an audition for a part in a new musical,’ she said excitedly. ‘Tomorrow afternoon. I’m sick with nerves just thinking about it. It isn’t a big part but I’ve never done anything on the West End stage before and it would be a marvellous start if only I could get it. I’ve always wanted to do a musical. Monty has suggested I take a new stage name so that I can make a fresh start as a solo artiste. I’ve decided on Benita Moore. What do you think? I wanted to keep the Benita part in memory of Ben.’

  ‘It sounds fine to me. Very glamorous.’ Rosalind smiled. ‘Just like the star of a musical. Dad would have approved. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you. If you get the part and you’re going to be working in London we’ll be able to see more of each other.’

  ‘I know. I thought I might find a little flat somewhere. You could come and stay — make it your home too.’ Freda’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. ‘I mustn’t count my chickens, of course, but I’ve got a really good feeling about this. Maybe things are looking up for us both, Rossie. Maybe we’re lucky for each other.’ She paused. ‘Why don’t you come to the audition with me tomorrow?’

  Rosalind blushed with pleasure. ‘Well — if you’re sure I wouldn’t be in the way?’

  Freda shook her head. ‘You know it’s high time you stopped selling yourself short, Rossie. Get to know your own worth.’

  The following morning the letter Rosalind had been waiting for arrived. For a long time she sat staring at it, unable to bring herself to open the envelope and read the contents. Suppose she had failed? There was no way she could go back and re-take the exams now that she had started working. And without A levels the college wouldn’t take her.

  Looking at her watch, she saw that she had ten minutes to spare before she went on duty, so, picking up the letter, she went up to the first floor and tapped on Freda’s door.

  Freda was in her dressing gown, her hair swathed in a towel, but she took one look at Rosalind’s worried face and drew her inside.

  ‘What’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  Rosalind held out the long envelope. ‘This came,’ she said, her lip trembling. ‘I can’t open it. Will you?’

  ‘What is it?’ Freda’s face cleared. ‘Oh! Your exam results.’ Turning away she walked across to the window, tearing the envelope open as she went. Rosalind waited, watching and hardly daring to hope as the other woman scanned the sheet of paper inside.

  ‘You’ve passed!’ Freda said, turning to her triumphantly. ‘And with flying colours just as I knew you would.’ She threw her arms round Rosalind and hugged her. ‘Congratulations, darling! Now maybe you’ll realise that you’re a worthwhile person — someone who matters.’ She swung Rosalind round in a sudden burst of exuberance. ‘Oh, I’ve a feeling this is going to be a very special day for us, Rossie. A day we’ll remember for years to come.’

  The auditions were being held in a hall in a street at the back of St Martin’s Lane. Freda and Rosalind arrived in plenty of time, but by the time they arrived at the door Freda was a bundle of nerves.

  ‘I’m sure you’ve nothing to worry about,’ Rosalind said, determined to sound reassuring. ‘You’ve got a lovely voice. They’d be mad not to give you the part. What’s the name of the play, by the way?’

  ‘It’s called Sweet Violet,’ Freda said. ‘Written by a new playwright, Monty says. He was telling me all about it. Apparently it was first put on in a rundown theatre in Stoke Newington, but he managed to persuade Louis Jacobson to go and see the show. He loved it and decided there and then to take it into the West End.’ Freda looked at Rosalind’s face, which was blank with shock. ‘Louis Jacobson is an impresario,’ she explained unnecessarily. ‘If he has faith in the show you can bet it’s a winner.’ She frowned. ‘Rossie — is anything wrong?’

  ‘No! No, nothing.’ She pulled herself together with an effort. ‘Let’s go in.’ Her mind was in turmoil. What was going on? Monty must know how furious Una would be to find herself in the same show as Freda. It was a recipe for disaster. It would make for a terrible working atmosphere and could ruin the show. What could he be thinking of? Would Una be here today? She shrank from the thought of the ensuing confrontation.

  But, much to her relief, her mother was nowhere to be seen. Inside the hall two rows of chairs had been set up in front of the platform. There was the usual upright piano, at which sat Brian French. Sitting in the centre of the front row of chairs sat Julian and another, older man whom Rosalind supposed must be Louis Jacobson. To her relief Stuart was not present either.

  Freda joined the row of ‘hopefuls’ waiting to audition, while Rosalind found herself a chair in a dim corner at the back of the hall. They waited. On the stroke of two-thirty Julian stood up and announced that the auditions would begin. One by one, he called up the candidates whose names were on his list. Each in turn they handed their music to Brian, sang a song of their own choice, then read a passage from the libretto and attempted to sight-read one of the songs from the show. When Freda’s name was called she walked up on to the platform without the slightest trace of nervousness. Rosalind watched admiringly, wishing she had Freda’s looks and poise. Crossing the fingers of both hands, she saw her give her music to Brian and take
up her position centre-stage.

  The song she had chosen was one Rosalind had heard her sing before. It was As Long As He Needs Me from Lionel Bart’s musical Oliver — and she sang it with a heart-felt emotion that brought a lump to Rosalind’s throat. She read from the libretto with aplomb and then attacked the song she had never seen before in a strong, confident voice that Rosalind knew would have made her father proud. There was no doubt in her mind that Freda outshone the rest of the female singers auditioning that afternoon. She was so enthralled that she almost forgot the barrier that lay between Freda and a part in the show.

  When she had finished there was a pause, then Julian said, ‘Thank you, Miss Moore, we’ll be in touch with your agent.’ He glanced at his list. ‘Harry Montague, isn’t it?’

  Outside in the street they looked at each other. ‘You’re sure to get it,’ Rosalind said. ‘You didn’t look a bit nervous and your voice was wonderful. You were miles better than anyone else.’

  Freda looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know about that. When I saw that Jacobson himself was there I almost turned tail and ran. I’m going to try not to think about it.’ She linked her arm through Rosalind’s. ‘Come on, I’m taking you out to tea. We’ve got your exam results to celebrate if nothing else. And I need something to steady my nerves.’

  As they faced each other over the teacups Rosalind wondered whether to tell Freda that Una was playing a leading part in the show she’d just auditioned for. She hated to spoil everything for her. There was, after all, the chance she might not get the part, in which case she need say nothing. On the other hand she couldn’t let her accept it first and then find out.

  ‘Rossie — is something wrong? You’re very quiet.’

  ‘What?’ She looked up with a start. ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘Only I’ve been speaking to you for the last ten minutes and getting no response.’

  Rosalind opened her mouth to drop her bombshell — then closed it again. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t spoil Freda’s happy anticipation. Not today. Maybe tomorrow she’d find the courage to tell her. Who knew what might have happened by tomorrow?

  But when they arrived back at the Queen’s Head there was a message waiting for Freda. Monty had telephoned and left word for her to ring him as soon as possible. She rang at once from the telephone in Reception, Rosalind looking on apprehensively as she dialled the number.

  Monty’s secretary put her through immediately. Rosalind heard the rumble of his deep voice at the other end of the line.

  ‘Hello, Monty. I’ve just got in. You wanted to speak to me?’

  Rosalind watched as the other girl’s face slowly took on a look of sheer disbelief. ‘You’re joking! My God, I can’t believe it!’ she said at last. ‘Are you sure it’s me they want? I mean, I’m virtually an unknown, apart from the work I did with Ben. This will be the first time I’ve done a musical play.’ While Monty’s voice growled on at the other end she smiled and nodded eagerly. ‘The contract — you want me to come up to the office and sign it? Of course — when?’ She winked gleefully at Rosalind. ‘Right, I’ll be there.’

  At length she put the receiver back on its rest and looked at Rosalind with a stunned expression. ‘Oh, Rossie, you’re not going to believe this. They’ve offered me one of the principal roles! It seems that the actress who played Olive at the try-out wasn’t really up to it. Jacobson had never really felt she was right for the part. And they want me to play it! Can you believe it?’ She grabbed Rosalind’s hands and squeezed them tightly. ‘Oh, isn’t it wonderfuP. I told you this would be a day we’d always remember!’ She looked at Rosalind’s stunned face and laughed uncertainly. ‘Well, come on. Aren’t you pleased for me?’

  Rosalind drew her towards a chair. It was worse than she’d thought. ‘Come and sit down,’ she said. ‘There’s something you should know before you sign that contract tomorrow.’

  Freda shook her head bemusedly. ‘For heaven’s sake — what? What’s bothering you, Rossie?’

  ‘The other actress — the one they’re sacking. I’m afraid it’s Una.’

  The smile faded from Freda’s face and she slumped in her chair. ‘Oh, no! What is Monty thinking of? He should have known.’ She frowned. ‘He did know. He purposely didn’t tell me, the sly old devil. He knew I wasn’t auditioning for a minor role all the time.’ She looked at Rosalind. ‘Oh my God! What do I do now?’

  ‘I think you should take it,’ Rosalind said firmly. ‘It isn’t your fault they want to sack Una. She manipulated her way into the part anyway. If you don’t do it they’ll only find someone else — someone who won’t be half as good. It’s true Monty should have told you. He probably knew that you wouldn’t even consider auditioning for it if he did.’

  ‘And he’d have been right. I wouldn’t!’

  ‘But Una never considered anyone else’s feelings, so why should you?’

  Freda looked at Rosalind for a long anxious moment, chewing her lower lip. Then suddenly she nodded decisively. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘This is my big chance. Why should I lose it?’

  *

  Una closed the dressing-room door and sat down to take off her make-up. The show’s pre-London run was over. This had been their last night in Brighton. They had a week out before they began fresh rehearsals for the West End opening. Brian had written another two numbers for the show, one of which was for her character. And Julian had re-written the second act curtain. Everyone agreed that the whole show had benefited enormously from the changes. Now she was really on her way to fame and success. Una could hardly wait to see her name up in lights outside the theatre.

  She was wiping off the last vestiges of cold cream when there came a tap on the door.

  ‘Come in.’ She looked up through the dressing-table mirror, expecting Don. He had come down specially for the show’s last night and the party that was to follow. Tomorrow they were leaving for a short holiday in Majorca. She smiled in anticipation. He’d be sure to bring her a bouquet or chocolates tonight; maybe even a piece of jewellery too.

  But it was not Don who responded to her call, but Julian. He hovered in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. ‘Una. Have you got a minute?’ he asked tentatively.

  She laughed, turning in her chair. ‘All the minutes you want, darling, now that the show is over. Do come in and have a seat.’ She got up and went towards the screen in one corner of the room. ‘What can I do for you? Okay if we talk while I change?’

  ‘No. I’d rather — look, sit down a moment, Una,’ he said uneasily, closing the door carefully behind him. ‘I have something important to say to you.’

  Something in his tone made her pause and look at him. ‘Oh, dear. Did I mess up one of your favourite lines? I haven’t been upstaging someone again, have I?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ Julian swallowed nervously, wishing the next ten minutes could be over. The diplomatic speech he had so carefully rehearsed had completely deserted him. ‘You’ve been absolutely wonderful in the show,’ he began. ‘And of course we couldn’t have got off the ground without Don’s support — and yours.’

  Una frowned, unhappy at the turn the conversation was taking. ‘Do you think you could get to the point, Julian?’ she said sharply. ‘At this rate we’ll both be late for the party. Besides, Don will be waiting.’

  ‘It’s all right. I’ve seen him. I asked him to give us a minute.’ Julian slipped one finger inside his collar and swallowed again. ‘Right. Well you see, the thing is, we — that is, Louis Jacobson and I — feel that you aren’t quite … What I mean is that playing the West End can be terribly demanding and … ’

  ‘And what?’ Una demanded, facing him challengingly.

  He tried again. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree that over the past few weeks the pressure has been pretty relentless.’

  ‘I don’t think I’d agree with that at all,’ she said stridently. ‘I’m a pro. I hope I can cope.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure you always do your best. But you’ve been looking v
ery tired lately and your … ’ He cleared his throat. ‘Your voice … ’

  ‘What about my voice? Are you trying to tell me that I’m not up to playing the part in the West End?’ She stood in front of him, hands on hips. ‘Well, come on — are you?’

  ‘You’ve been terribly well received, Una,’ he lied. ‘Very popular and all that — with the cast as well as the public. It’s just that Jacobson — well, no, I feel you deserve a rest. It isn’t only you,’ he added hopefully. ‘There are one or two other parts that are being recast, for various reasons, and I … ’

  ‘You little shit!’ Una’s face, which had flushed darkly, suddenly drained of all colour. ‘You used me,’ she screamed. ‘You were glad enough of the money I got Don to put up, weren’t you? I was good enough for your tacky little show then. Now that you’ve got Jacobson behind you and you don’t need my financial support any more you think you can just dump me! Well, you won’t get away with it, I promise you!’

  ‘Be reasonable, Una. It happens all the time. Lots of actors who do the pre-London run drop out when the show comes to Town. It’s a well-known … ’

  ‘And what would you know about it?’ Una spat at him scathingly. ‘You’re nothing more than a tuppeny-ha’penny bloody amateur. Don’t you try to tell me what’s what. I was in this business when you were still filling your nappies.’

  ‘Well, now that you mention it, that’s exactly the point,’ he said boldly.

  Una drew in her breath with a menacing hiss. ‘You’re saying I’m too old? She stared at him, her eyes bulging slightly and the veins in her neck standing out. ‘Well, let me tell you something, Mr Smartarse. You haven’t heard the last of this. By the time I’m done with you, your name will be mud in this business. I’m going to sue you for every penny this show makes. I do have a contract, you know. You can’t wriggle out of that.’

  ‘I think you’ll find that your contract is up for renewal at the moment,’ he said.