‘Sorry I’m late,’ Vincent said, barging in through the back door in a great rush. ‘There was such a lot of traffic between here and Pudsey, I thought I’d never get here—’ He cut himself short, stared at her through narrowed eyes. ‘What have you done to yourself, Audra?’
‘I haven’t done anything,’ she exclaimed, stiffening, giving him a defensive look. His tone had sounded critical.
He held his head on one side and studied her thoughtfully. ‘It must be the hat, or maybe it’s the new dress—’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake it’s the makeup,’ she muttered. ‘I’m wearing some of Christie’s foundation lotion and rouge.’
‘I like it,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘You look nice. Ever so nice, love. You should wear makeup more often.’
Audra half smiled, and then glanced away quickly. She felt suddenly self-conscious under his unexpected scrutiny. Vincent had not looked at her like that in years… She said, ‘Do you want a cup of tea now? Or later, after you’ve changed your shirt and suit?’
‘Later. I won’t be but a few minutes.’ He hurried out.
Audra remained standing near the kitchen table, staring after him, thinking how well he looked.
Vincent had hardly changed over the years, hardly aged at all. Last month he had celebrated his forty-eighth birthday, but he appeared to be so much younger. There wasn’t a grey hair on his head and his face had retained a certain boyishness, and the smoothness of his cheeks and brow, along with his fresh complexion, only underscored his youthfulness.
She took a chair, sat waiting for him to return, thinking about him, wondering if he ever had love affairs these days. Years ago she had suspected that he saw other women, even though there had never been gossip, nor had she had any proof. But their relationship had been so bad at times she had supposed he found solace for his woes in more welcoming arms than hers.
A deep sigh escaped her, and she shook her head, mildly irritated with herself. She was having such strange thoughts today. First she had been on the verge of tears, dwelling on Laurette, missing her, and now here she was brooding over all sorts of imponderables about Vincent. As if it made any difference now.
‘Let’s have that cup of tea, Audra,’ Vincent exclaimed, coming back into the kitchen. ‘We haven’t got much time to waste.’
As he spoke he sat down opposite her and reached for the teapot. ‘Did our Christie get off all right?’
‘Yes,’ Audra said. ‘She left at noon. She said she had several things to check in the college gallery—the exhibition, I expect. She always fusses about having the proper kind of light on her paintings, you know what a perfectionist she is, everything has to be exactly right.’
‘Just like her mother,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Come on, love, get your bits and pieces together and let’s be off, we don’t want to miss the ceremony, it’s something you’ve been looking forward to for the last twenty years.’
Audra smiled. ‘That’s absolutely true. And so have you.’
‘Yes.’
Later, as they were driving into town, Audra suddenly put her hand on Vincent’s knee and squeezed it.
He glanced at her through the corner of his eye. ‘What?’
‘I know that one day Christina will be as famous as those other two great Leeds College art students, Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore.’
Vincent nodded. Who was he to argue with her. She had always been right about their daughter thus far.
Christina
1951–1965
CHAPTER 32
Christina loved the little flat in London.
It was in a tall, narrow house in Chester Street, not far from Belgrave Square. The house had belonged to Irène Bell for years, and Christina and her mother had stayed at the flat several times in the past when they had come to London on their art educational trips, to visit the many galleries and museums. She already knew it well.
Irène Bell was renting the flat to Audra for four guineas a week. Audra thought it was a bargain at the price, and indeed it was, but Christina knew that Mrs Bell hated charging her mother rent. She would have much preferred to let her have it for nothing. But as she had explained privately to Christina, that was not Audra’s way of doing things. ‘Your mother’s too shrewd,’ Irène Bell had said. ‘If the rent doesn’t seem right to her she’ll be suspicious.’ Christina had agreed, and together they had arrived at a suitable figure.
The flat was on the top floor of the house, was, in fact, converted attics with a living room, bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. It had its own front door and was a self-contained little dwelling within the house.
Originally, Irène Bell had created the studio flat at the top of her house for her daughters to live in at different stages of their lives. It had been a pied-à-terre for them, and later for Theo, when he had been studying law at Cambridge and came to London on weekends occasionally. Theo, who was thirty and a barrister with chambers in the Temple, had recently married, and he and his wife Angela occupied the town house. Sometimes Irène Bell came to stay with her son and daughter-in-law, but only rarely. She was in her seventies now, and since Thomas Bell’s death three years before she rarely ventured far afield. She liked to hold court at Calpher House, and have her children and many grandchildren visit her there.
On the day that Christina and Audra had arrived from Leeds, the Bells’ house in Belgravia was deserted. Theo and Angela were away on holiday in France, but Mrs Bell had given Audra a set of keys and told her they should make themselves at home.
This they had done and now, at the end of the first week in London, Christina was well and truly settled in the studio under the eaves. Her easel, spare canvases, paints and brushes had been unpacked and put away, as had her books, her other possessions and her clothes.
These filled the large closet in the bedroom and every time Christina looked inside she was impressed with the spectacular selection of outfits her mother had made for her.
The measuring, cutting, pinning, sewing and pressing had gone on for the last eight months, but it was only when she saw everything hanging there together that she realized what an extraordinary undertaking creating this stylish wardrobe had been for her mother.
‘I’m going to be the best dressed girl at the Royal College of Art,’ Christina said to Audra late on Friday afternoon as she took a pearl-grey silk dress from the wardrobe, held it against herself, stared in the mirror.
‘I should hope so,’ Audra said with a light laugh, watching her from the doorway of the bedroom. ‘I certainly worked hard enough.’
‘Oh Mummy, you did! I know you did. Thank you for all of my lovely clothes, for all the time and effort you put into them, and the money you’ve spent. You’re a wonder, Mother, you truly are.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Audra said, hastily brushing aside the thanks and the compliment. But nevertheless she looked pleased as she came in to the bedroom and sat down on one of the twin beds.
Christina swung around, still holding the silk dress pressed close to her lithe body. ‘What do you think about this for the theatre tonight, Mummy?’
Audra nodded her approval.
Christina flashed her a vivid smile, hung the dress on the top of the cupboard door and said, ‘I’d better find the right shoes and bag… the black patent, I think. And perhaps I’ll take the grey silk Dior shawl Grandma gave me for my birthday, just in case it gets cool later.’
‘I doubt that’s going to happen,’ Audra said, ‘it’s been awfully hot today. In fact, I think we’re in for a heat wave this weekend.’
‘Don’t say that, Mother!’ Christina made a face. ‘Not when we’ve planned to go to Windsor Castle for the day on Sunday. I don’t fancy the idea of sweltering in the scorching August sun all day, as we tramp around the grounds.’
Audra smiled as she leaned back against the pillows, watching her daughter take out her accessories for the evening, thinking how striking she was to look at.
Christina’s light brown hair of c
hildhood had turned years ago to a deeper, richer chestnut, and in the summer it was always shot through with reddish-golden streaks from the sun. Her resemblance to her father was marked, and although she was not strictly beautiful, she had an arresting face with clear, chiselled features and a lovely complexion like Audra’s. Her huge grey eyes, so soft, so smoky, were Laurette’s eyes, and Christina had inherited the Crowther height, stood five feet seven in her stocking feet. This pleased Audra. She had always hated being only five feet two inches tall.
Her attractive appearance and her obvious artistic gifts to one side, Christina had turned out to be an exceptional young woman in other ways. Everyone agreed on that. Despite Grandma Crowther’s dire predictions that the private school and Audra’s big ideas would lead to trouble, this had not been the case. Christina had not grown up to be difficult, rebellious or a snob; nor had she turned on her parents, preferring her college friends to them. Quite the contrary, in fact. She was a loving and caring daughter, who adored Audra and Vincent in much the same way as they adored her, and, as she had done when she was a child, she enjoyed their company, believed them to be special.
Audra Crowther had done her job well.
Apart from providing Christina with the best of everything within her power, she had given the girl the best of herself. She had taught Christina the proper human values, instilled in her a sense of honour, duty and purpose. Drawing on her own genteel upbringing, Audra had reared her to have consideration for others. But perhaps most importantly of all, Audra had given Christina something else of incalculable value—a feeling of self-worth. And so she was remarkably secure.
Frequently uncommunicative and undemonstrative with Vincent, which had always been at the root of the trouble between them, Audra had been able to express her love for her child verbally, and with a show of physical affection. Yet with this unconditional love had come discipline, from both her parents. Vincent, in particular, had been very strict with Christina when she had been a teenager.
Yes, she does have a certain kind of grace, Audra commented to herself, continuing to observe her daughter as she moved around the bedroom. But she’s not perfect by any means, and of course who is? Christie does have Vincent’s quick, rather violent temper, and his expensive tastes, his love of clothes and the finer things of life. And she can be impetuous. But, withal, she’s not a spoilt girl. Audra smiled. How many times had Eliza said, ‘You’re spoiling that girl, Audra, and so is Vincent. You’ll both live to regret it… oh yes, spare the rod and spoil the child.’ An echo of her mother-in-law’s voice reverberated in her head.
‘You’re looking pensive, Mummy, is something wrong?’
Audra sat up with a start. ‘No.’ She laughed wryly. ‘To tell you the truth I was thinking of your grandma. She always said my plans for you were far too elaborate and high flown. And la-di-da… That was her favourite expression for anything that had to do with me when you were little.’
‘Don’t I know it. She’s old-fashioned and so class-bound, poor old thing. But she means well, Mummy, and she’s always been very loving with me.’ Christina grinned. ‘But then I’m the only child of her darling Stormy Petrel.’
‘Stormy Petrel?’
‘Yes, that’s what she called Daddy when he was first born, and when he was a little boy. Didn’t she ever tell you that?’
‘No. But then your grandma and I have never been close, never seen eye-to-eye on anything much, and certainly her ideas about a woman’s place in the world have always gone against the grain with me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your grandma has always believed that women should… well, be subservient to men. Long before you were born, she was horrified when I said I wanted a nursing career. She told me it was my duty to settle down and have babies and toe the line and cater to your father.’
‘I can understand her saying that, Mother. I don’t think she approves of my coming to London and attending the Royal College of Art at all. She seems to think it’s a waste of money. When I went to say goodbye to her and Grandpa the other day she clucked and said something about it being a terrible expense, when I was bound to give up my art to get married and have babies the moment I met the first suitable young man.’
Audra smiled faintly. ‘That sounds like Eliza…’ She paused reflectively, and then after a moment she fixed her bright blue eyes on Christina. ‘You know, Christie, I am glad you’re ambitious, that you want a career for yourself, as well as those other things in life. You can have them all, you know, you really can. In fact, there’s nothing you can’t have if you try hard enough, work hard enough and strive towards a goal. And never, never limit yourself—’
‘I shall always reach for the stars,’ Christina interrupted, smiling at Audra. ‘Just as you’ve taught me to… and I remember very well when Grandpa said that about you, that September you sent me to Miss Mellor’s, when Grandma was doing her usual bit of grousing about you to him. He gave her such a ‘nasty look and told her you were right to reach for the stars. He’s always admired you for that, Mummy, and—’ Christina swung to the small desk and reached for the shrilling telephone.
‘Oh hello, Daddy. How are you?’ There was a short pause as she listened carefully, then she looked across at Audra, nodding and smiling. ‘Yes, Daddy, I understand.’ There was another pause. ‘Yes, we’ve had a very nice day. We went to lunch at Fortnum’s and then we spent the afternoon at the Tate looking at the Turners.’ Christina laughed at a remark of her father’s, listened briefly, then finished, ‘Yes, I will. Let me get Mummy for you now.’
Audra rose and went to take the telephone from her daughter. ‘Hello, Vincent. Is everything all right?’ she asked and immediately fell silent as Vincent spoke to her in a rush of words.
Christina slipped out, smiling to herself. She crossed the minuscule hall and went into the kitchen that adjoined the living room; after putting the kettle on the gas, she took endive, lettuce and tomatoes from the refrigerator and began to wash them.
A few minutes later, Audra joined her in the small galley-style kitchen. ‘Let me help you,’ she said.
‘There’s not much to do, really.’ Christina glanced over her shoulder and remarked, ‘Honestly, Daddy’s getting to be such an old fuss pot. I can’t have a conversation with him at the moment without him telling me to watch my step, and he keeps saying “think on, love, think on”. I don’t know what’s got into him lately.’
‘Well, you’re still his little girl in many ways, and he’s a bit worried about you being out on your own, I suppose. And you’d better not let him hear you call him old, he wouldn’t like that.’
‘Mmmmm,’ was Christina’s only response as she began to peel a tomato. Suddenly she giggled, swung to her mother and said, ‘Gosh, you’re going to have a huge phone bill, Mum, when you get home. Daddy’s hardly been off it this week.’ She began to giggle, and her eyes were mischievous. ‘I do believe he’s courting you again.’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Audra exclaimed.
***
That evening Christina took Audra to see her favourite actress and actor—Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier.
They were starring in the Festival of Britain production of Shaw’s Caesar and Cleopatra and Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra, each play being performed back to back on successive nights.
This was Christina’s big surprise for her mother.
Audra knew they were going to the theatre, but she had no idea what they were going to see and she was thrilled when Christina told her their destination as they sat on the bus.
‘There’s no point in seeing one play without the other, so I bought tickets for both nights, Mummy, and we’ll be coming back tomorrow.’
‘Oh darling, how extravagant you are, just like your Daddy,’ Audra said, but her face glowed with happiness.
‘This is a theatrical first, Mum, I know we’re in for a splendid evening in the theatre, one we’re not likely to forget,’ Christina remarked, filled wit
h pleasure that she could do something nice for her mother.
Audra could hardly contain her excitement as they took their seats in the theatre, and she reached out and squeezed her daughter’s hand, whispered, ‘Thank you, Christie, for thinking of this very special treat for me… I know I’ll never forget it.’
From the moment the curtain rose on the great sphinx that opened the Shaw play and would close Shakespeare’s the following night, they were captivated by this most famous of all husband-and-wife acting teams and all of the other actors and actresses.
Audra and Christina talked about the performances and the costumes and the scenery for hours afterwards, both on the bus returning to the flat, and when they were having a cup of tea together before going to bed.
‘Vivien Leigh is simply beautiful,’ Audra said. ‘And as for her coronation robes—why I’ve never seen anything more magnificent. And Sir Laurence Olivier is the consummate actor, the greatest on the stage today, isn’t he?’
‘He certainly is, Mummy,’ Christina agreed. ‘I can’t wait for tomorrow night.’
***
Before either of them realized it, Audra’s second week in London came to an end.
It had been a wonderful time for them both. Apart from getting Christina settled in the flat before she started her courses at the Royal College of Art in September, they had been able to share some happy days together. They had been to see other plays and to the pictures, which they always enjoyed; they had visited museums and as many art galleries as they could cram in.
Vincent had given Audra some money before they had left Leeds and told her to take themselves out to dinner on him, and this they had done. There had been days when they had simply pottered around the little flat and gone for walks through Green Park and down The Mall, or window shopped in Bond Street and browsed around Hatchard’s, Audra’s favourite bookstore. But every minute had been precious to mother and daughter, and Audra would never forget her two weeks with Christina at this time in her daughter’s life.
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