Love or Duty

by Roberta Grieve

  As she looked round again she gave a small smile at the shamefaced looks on their faces. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all. Of course, it would be better if the police caught the real culprit. Father had said they seemed quite sure that the fire had been set deliberately.

  Chapter Eight

  As Stanley had predicted, with nothing to feed on, the gossip soon died down. In such a small town there was always some fresh scandal, real or imagined, for people to get their teeth into.

  But Louise couldn’t forget what had happened. Every time she walked along the Esplanade past the burnt-out ruins of the Winter Gardens, she was reminded that the police had never caught the culprit. The evidence pointed to arson, not an accident. And, although both Stanley and his late partner had been publicly absolved of all suspicion, the insurance company would not pay out.

  While the police inquiry continued they could do nothing with the derelict buildings. Without the insurance money it was impossible to rebuild or refurbish the dance hall. Stanley suggested that, as a temporary measure, the rubble should be cleared away and the remaining building boarded up – only temporarily, he insisted. The area where the theatre had stood would be grassed over so that at least it was no longer an eyesore. His fellow investors, all prominent local businessmen, agreed, although most of them felt that, once the case was closed, the site should be sold and developed.

  To Louise’s surprise, as her father began to recover from his shock and grief at the loss of his partner, he began to seem more like his old self. The challenge of getting the business back on its feet had given him new energy.

  On one of their Sunday walks he confided in Louise that he very much feared he had been right in his suspicion that William was embezzling from the firm.

  Shocked, Louise said, ‘I can hardly believe it.’

  ‘There’s no other explanation for our losses,’ Stanley said. ‘I knew there was something wrong. He’d been very worried these past few months. But….’ He paused before going on. ‘I have no doubts whatsoever that he had nothing to do with the fire.’

  Louise took his arm and squeezed it. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. Perhaps it was a tramp after all.’

  ‘Maybe. Anyway, I’m not going to worry about it any more. Things are beginning to look up. Young James is proving himself at last. I think the shock of his father’s death brought him to his senses. He’s begun to realize he can’t go swanning off to the races or to those gambling clubs in Brighton and neglecting his duties.’

  ‘I’m pleased, Father. I just wish I could do more to help.’

  ‘You do quite enough – too much, I sometimes think.’

  Louise shrugged it off and changed the subject. ‘I’m so pleased Sarah got the part. We’ll miss her when she goes off to London.’

  Stanley sighed. ‘She’s still very young. I hope we’re doing the right thing letting her go.’

  ‘She’s nearly eighteen, Father.’

  ‘Your mother’s not happy about her living in London alone, although she’s found some respectable lodgings not far from the theatre.’ Stanley walked on in silence for a few moments then turned to Louise. ‘Why don’t you go with her? You could stay for a few days until she’s settled in – make sure she’s all right.’

  Although Louise’s heart leapt at the prospect of getting away from Holton, she hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Mother needs me at home.’

  ‘Nonsense. She’ll still have Polly and, now that things are looking up, I’m sure we could afford to employ a daily woman to help out. I’ve felt for a long time that you are being taken for granted, my dear. You need a life of your own.’ Stanley patted her arm. ‘Don’t worry, Lou. I’ll speak to your mother.’

  Louise felt the urge to run down to the beach and kick up the sand but she managed to restrain herself. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself? But she knew that if it had been her own idea, Dora would have done her best to stop her. Besides, until a few weeks ago she would not have dreamt of leaving her father – not while he had been looking so ill. She would have worried about him all the time she was away.

  Excitement was building in the Charlton household as the girls made preparations for their departure for London. Dora had taken some persuading to allow Louise to accompany Sarah but concern for her younger daughter had won. Sarah had to be chaperoned while mixing with those ‘theatre folk’.

  Rehearsals for Little Women were due to begin at the Playfair Theatre shortly after Christmas and Louise couldn’t wait to get away. Her only worry was how Polly would manage but, she told herself, it would only be for a week or two until Sarah was settled. Dora would just have to pull herself together and take control of the household, Louise thought rebelliously. She wasn’t going to let her stepmother spoil things for her yet again. It was her last chance for a life of her own.

  Her father was a different matter, though. Louise wouldn’t hurt him for the world. Despite his earlier reassurances she still wasn’t sure if he really had recovered from the trauma of the fire, especially when she saw him taking a tablet from a small box he kept in his waistcoat pocket.

  ‘Just a touch of indigestion, my dear,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure, Father? Maybe you should see Dr Tate.’ Even using the name of Andrew’s uncle still caused a little pang. But at the moment her concern was all for her father.

  ‘I’ve spoken to George of course. But he assures me it’s nothing to worry about,’ Stanley said.

  ‘Then why the pills?’

  ‘As I said, indigestion. Too much of your good cooking, my dear.’ Stanley laughed and Louise smiled with him, hoping that was really all it was.

  The day before Louise and Sarah were due to leave for London, the conversation at dinner turned to the plans for the former Winter Gardens.

  ‘James feels we should try to raise the money to rebuild the theatre,’ Stanley said.

  ‘Surely not, Stanley,’ Dora protested. ‘How can he think it will be a success after what happened? Has he forgotten how much you and his poor father lost in the last venture?’

  ‘I agree, my dear. But he has a point. It’s true we do have entertainment facilities for our visitors, especially since the cinema opened at the end of the pier. But other resorts have dance halls, theatres, fairgrounds….’

  Dora raised her hands in horror. ‘But Holton is hardly Bournemouth or Brighton. And as for a fairground – why, we should end up attracting all sorts.’

  ‘You don’t understand, my dear. Holton has very little industry – even the fishing has declined lately. The summer visitors are the lifeblood of our little town – they are what put the bread and butter on our table.’

  ‘I like it when the summer people arrive,’ Sarah announced. ‘This place is as dull as ditchwater in winter. Father’s right – we ought to have something for them to do, and for the locals too. Not everyone wants to be running the Girl Guides or doing good works.’

  Dora’s mouth set in a thin line. ‘Such talk is most unseemly. Stanley, speak to your daughter.’

  ‘Your mother’s right, Sarah. She works very hard for the church – and someone has to do these “good works” as you call it so slightingly. It sounded to me as if you were belittling her efforts.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mother. Of course I didn’t mean that,’ she said, opening her violet eyes in wide-eyed innocence.

  Dora was all smiles again. ‘I know you didn’t, dear. I suppose now that you’re off to London, it’s only natural you should feel a little scornful of our parochial activities.’

  Louise hid a smile. How was it that Sarah managed to get round her mother so easily? She recalled that as a child, she had often been sent to her room for far lesser sins than her half-sister’s outspokenness.

  But Sarah had always possessed a charm that drew people to her and she could get away with almost anything. She wondered how she would cope with the younger girl’s waywardness when they were living in London together.

  The show opened to rave revues, wit
h particular mention of newcomer Sarah Charlton in the part of Amy, the youngest March girl. It looked as if it was in for a long run and Louise was delighted, not just for her sister’s sake.

  Their lodgings in Grenville Terrace, a few streets away from the theatre, had been vetted by Dora before the girls came to London. She had firmly vetoed Maurice Weeks’ suggestion that Sarah should share theatrical digs with the rest of the cast. Her daughter must stay in respectable lodgings. She could find no fault with the rooms, which were cheap and comfortable, or with their landlady, Mrs Mason, who fed them well and made sure their rooms were clean.

  After the first couple of weeks Louise was bored. Although she revelled in her new-found freedom, she had little to do while Sarah was busy with rehearsals. It was time she returned to Holton but the thought filled her with dismay. She wrote to her parents asking if she could stay a little longer, giving the excuse that Sarah needed her.

  Without waiting for a reply she scoured the neighbourhood of the theatre, reading the advertisement cards in newsagents’ windows and even asking in some of the shops if they needed an assistant. But she soon realized that, for a woman in her twenties who had never worked before, finding a job wasn’t so easy. Her only experience was running the household back in Holton but she couldn’t possibly go into service. That would be just like being at home again.

  One morning, despondent over her lack of success, she found herself outside the theatre where Sarah was rehearsing. She slipped in by a side door and sat quietly at the back of the stalls.

  She had seen the show several times but it was always a pleasure to watch Sarah in action. During her visits to the theatre she’d got to know several of the company and she smiled when one of the stagehands sat down beside her. Julian Reynolds was a young lad, barely out of school, with flyaway blond hair and a somewhat diffident manner.

  When the director called for a break, he broke into spontaneous applause. ‘Your sister’s very good, isn’t she?’ he whispered.

  ‘I think so – but maybe I’m prejudiced,’ Louise laughed.

  ‘Do you sing – or act?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh no. Sarah’s the performer in the family.’

  ‘I wondered why you were here.’

  ‘I wanted to be with my sister – and I’m looking for a job,’ she said. She didn’t want to embarrass Sarah by telling the young man that she was acting as a sort of chaperon. Sarah at nearly eighteen thought she was quite grown-up enough to manage on her own.

  ‘What sort of a job do you want?’ Julian asked.

  ‘I don’t know – I’m not good at anything, really,’ Louise confessed.

  ‘Can you paint?’

  Louise remembered how she’d enjoyed drawing and painting as a child. But she didn’t think that’s what he had in mind. ‘What sort of painting?’

  ‘Well, I happened to hear the stage manager saying that they needed more hands backstage to paint the scenery and such like.’

  ‘Haven’t they got all the scenery they need for this show?’ Louise was puzzled until Julian explained that with so many set changes, the background scenery – flats as they were called – got knocked about and often needed touching up and repairing.

  ‘I thought maybe you could help with that,’ he told her, ‘but of course it’s up to Mr Baxter.’ Julian got up and went back to work after pointing him out.

  When she’d summoned up the courage to approach Phil Baxter, the stage manager, he looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. ‘Do you sing? Have you ever wanted to act?’ he barked.

  ‘No, no,’ she stammered.

  ‘Never?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  The man sighed with relief. ‘Thank God for that. Most people who claim that they’ll do anything – yes anything – to work in theatre, even making the tea, only see it as a way in. They all see themselves as the next Henry Irving or Florrie Ford.’

  Louise had no idea who he was talking about and hastened to explain that she’d moved to London to keep an eye on her sister – he knew that anyway – but she had to earn some money. She smiled gratefully when he said in a gentler voice that they’d take her on at ‘fifteen bob a week’ as general dogsbody.

  If it hadn’t been for Lucia Lane, Sarah would have been on cloud nine. Working in the theatre was all she’d dreamt it would be. But Lucia, the nominal star of the show, was jealous of Sarah’s success.

  Arriving for rehearsals she’d been somewhat in awe of Lucia, who had held centre stage at most of the West End theatres for the past few years. But the singer had taken her under her wing, delighting in showing her the ropes.

  Basking in her friendship and kindness, Sarah had been quite taken aback by the abrupt change in her demeanour the day after the first reviews came out.

  The critics waxed lyrical over Sarah’s performance, predicting that the world would soon hear more of the newcomer. Lucia received only a perfunctory mention.

  ‘I don’t understand it, Lou,’ Sarah complained as they relaxed in their sitting room at Grenville Terrace. ‘She was so nice to me at first – I thought we were going to be friends.’

  ‘She’s jealous of your success that’s all. She’s used to being the centre of attention.’

  ‘But it’s not as if we’re rivals. I couldn’t sing the part of Jo to save my life. Lucia’s perfect for it with her deep rich voice. I’m a soprano – she’s never going to be in competition with me for parts.’

  ‘I expect it’ll all blow over – besides, this show won’t run forever. You’ll both probably move on elsewhere eventually.’

  ‘Well, until we close I’ll be treading on eggshells. I do try not to upset her – she takes it out on everybody if she’s in a bad mood – even poor old Steve.’

  ‘But Mr Forbes is the director. He’s supposed to keep her in line isn’t he?’

  Sarah gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t think anybody could keep Lucia in line. She’s too used to having her own way. Besides, she only has to bat her eyelashes and murmur something in that husky voice and everyone falls at her feet.’

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t worry about her – from what I can see everyone’s falling at your feet now.’

  Sarah just smiled but as she got ready for bed she was a little worried. She didn’t want to make an enemy of Lucia. Her star might be waning, but she still had many influential friends in the business. Maybe she should try to be a little more sensitive to Lucia’s feelings. It wouldn’t hurt to butter her up a bit, maybe ask her advice – even though she didn’t need it. Steve Forbes was more than happy with her performance.

  As she snuggled down under the blankets she smiled at the thought of Steve and a little tremor of excitement ran through her as she recalled the way he’d looked at her that evening. Of course, he was old. She had noticed the little flecks of grey at his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes. But they only made him look more handsome – distinguished was the word. She compared him with the stagehand, Julian, who had made no secret of his admiration. But he was just a boy – how he irritated her with his stammer, and the way he went red every time she so much as glanced in his direction. Steve was a real man, one who knew all the famous singers and actresses. If he was interested in her, she must be really special, she thought as she hugged her pillow and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what it would be like to be kissed by him.

  Louise enjoyed working in the theatre. Although being a dogsbody entailed all sorts of jobs, no two days were ever the same. One day she might be painting over the cracks that had appeared in the flat that depicted the Marchs’ sitting room. Another day she would be helping the wardrobe mistress, pressing the voluminous dresses before the show. The dressing rooms were tiny and cramped – apart from Miss Lane’s of course – and there was nowhere to hang the gowns between changes, so that they were constantly creased.

  It was a small company and the backstage people all worked together, swapping jobs and pulling together to make the show a success. Louise hadn’t realized how much
work went on behind the scenes, even while the show was running.

  Best of all she liked it when Steve or Phil Baxter, the stage manager, sent her on errands. She loved wandering around the narrow streets off the Strand and Charing Cross Road, the big red buses, the noise, the pigeons – it was all a world away from sleepy Holton Regis. Still, she had to admit she missed the sea and was looking forward to going home at the weekend. The theatre was closed on Sundays, of course, and there was no performance on Mondays so she had persuaded Sarah that, after several months away from home, they ought to pay a visit to their parents.

  Sarah didn’t want to go home. Whenever Louise suggested it, she always managed to find some excuse not to go. That part of her life was over now, she told herself. The company was her family now. Besides, after a week of performances she looked forward to a lazy lie-in on Sundays, reading the papers and theatrical magazines and pampering herself with a long bath and beauty treatment. Later she would go for a walk in the park, then join her fellow performers for a late supper. Mondays were for shopping. If Louise wanted to go back to Holton for a couple of days that weekend she was welcome to do so. But Sarah definitely wouldn’t be joining her.

  When Louise failed to persuade her, she said she would stay too. ‘I can’t leave you in London on your own – Mother would never forgive me,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be such an old fusspot,’ Sarah said. ‘What harm can I come to? I’ll be here all day under Mrs Mason’s eagle eye. Then I’ll be with the theatre people in the evening – just a friendly supper like we always do.’

  ‘Well, I’ll go down on the train Sunday morning and come back on Monday. I just want to make sure Polly’s managing. Are you sure you’ll be all right?’

  Sarah wished her sister would stop worrying. ‘I’m not a child, Louise. Of course I’ll be all right.’ And it’ll be a nice change to be able to do what I want without you fussing, she added silently.