by Bell, Julia
Good, I thought, that should keep him occupied.
“Do we have to have tea, Mama? I thought you said we could go down to the sea.”
Mrs Turpin bent over and wagged her finger at him. “Now then, Master Asquith, your mama will want to catch her breath before venturing out. Let her have a pot of tea and I’ll fetch you some lemonade. The sea’s been there for millions of years and it’ll still be there while you have your drink.”
Again I smiled. A complete stranger had never reprimanded Danny, but he took it gallantly and nodded in compliance.
I was glad of the pot of tea and sighed contentedly at the thought of five days doing absolutely nothing. Our room was simply decorated with modest furniture, but quite adequate for our purposes. As I had hung up our clothes in the huge wardrobe, I had begun to relax at the thought of walks in the gardens and strolls along the pier, breathing in the wonderful tangy sea air. After the smoke of London, it seemed like heaven.
Danny pulled me down to the seafront as soon as I had gulped down my last mouthful of tea. He just couldn’t wait any longer. I laughed as I tried holding onto his hand, but then realising he was too strong for me, I let go and he ran on ahead. We were soon on the sand and Danny was tugging off his boots and socks. With a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, I pulled off my boots and stockings and lifted my skirt to the calves. I stood at the edge of the water and let the waves roll over my toes, before taking another step so that the water covered my feet completely. I dug my toes into the sand. The English Channel was chilly despite the hot weather and I shivered with its coldness. I looked out to sea and saw a pleasure steamer passing and wondered where it was going. Perhaps I ought to find out and we could take a trip ourselves. I watched Danny wade a little further out.
“Not too far! I don’t want you swept away.”
“There’s a shop over there that sells flags and things,” he said, pointing in the direction of the pier.
“Shall we buy some and build a sandcastle?”
He didn’t need a second invitation and soon we were pushing our feet into our boots and racing to the shop. We bought four flags of different nations, three shiny windmills and two small spades. Soon we were back on the beach and piling the sand into a huge mound and carving it into turrets, towers and battlements.
As I watched my son placing the flags I leaned back against a large boulder and looked out to sea. I hadn’t seen Ruth and Gwilym for fifteen months, not since their wedding. I missed them and hoped that there would be a letter from them when I arrived home. Perhaps they would be back in England for Christmas. It would be so wonderful to be together for the festive season.
That evening after dinner, I asked Mrs Turpin about the pleasure steamer. With her round face flushed with willingness to make her guests happy, she told me that there were two vessels owned by that particular company. They departed just along from the pier and sailed between Brighton, Eastbourne and Hastings. Once a passenger had bought a ticket they could travel on either of them all day, embarking and disembarking at will.
When I mentioned the excursion to Danny, he was eager to try it the following day, so after breakfast we set off for the pier.
I could see on the notice-board that the steamer came into Eastbourne at ten-thirty so we made ourselves comfortable on a bench and waited. We had decided to catch the first one that came in, no matter what its destination, but I was more than pleased to see that the next steamer was heading for Brighton. We can visit the Royal Pavilion, I thought, if Danny doesn’t mind looking around a large and rather ornate residence that would not have been out of place in India.
At ten-thirty prompt, Danny let out a squeal of delight and jumped up and down at the sight of the steamer sailing towards the pier.
I stood and watched as the vessel manoeuvred into the side and a gangway was lowered. A few people disembarked and we finally made our way on board and bought our tickets. Danny rushed straight to the rail and looked over the side. The crew waited a few minutes to make sure that no one else wanted to come aboard and then the gangway was pulled up. We started to move away from the pier and as the breeze grabbed at my coat and forced me to hold on to my hat, I laughed with glee. This holiday had been a very good idea and I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t taken one before now.
Eventually, I persuaded Danny to go under the covered seating area, to get out of the strong breeze. He agreed reluctantly, even though his cheeks were red with the biting wind and his fingers were turning blue.
“Little boys can be so enthusiastic about boat trips,” said a pleasant voice to my left. I turned in my seat and saw a lady in her middle years, with strong features in a thin face, blue-grey eyes and greying hair peeping from under a large hat. “I’m sorry, I should introduce myself.” She held out a lace-gloved hand. “Mrs Eloise Babbington. I’m staying at the Dorchester in Eastbourne.”
I introduced myself and Danny, who promptly ran back out on deck.
I frowned. “Be careful,” I called after him.
“He’ll be all right, my dear. He wants to explore.”
I resisted the urge to go after him and turned to my new companion. “Are you on your own?”
“I am indeed. My husband died three years ago.” She sighed. “Put a garden fork through his foot, would you believe. Died from blood poisoning.”
I felt horrified. “How awful for him.”
“Typical of my Bill, is that. Always clumsy.” Her gaze swept over me. “I take it that you’re on your own too? Or is your husband too busy to accompany you?”
I smiled and briefly told her how I had lost Daniel.
“You were so young. And to leave your place of birth and travel with a small baby.” She let out a long breath. “That takes some courage.”
I shrugged indifferently. “Sometimes it has to be done.”
“Your home is in London?” I nodded. I hadn’t told her my profession and I was grateful that she assumed that I was a widow living comfortably. “I live with my nephew and his wife in Hampshire. They have a lovely little girl. She’s six years old and really keeps us on our toes.”
I turned my attention to Danny who had become engrossed in conversation with a member of the crew.
“I really must go and see what he’s doing,” I murmured.
Mrs Babbington let out an amused laugh. “You sound just like my nephew. He frets over his daughter in much the same way.”
I looked out of the window at the coastline passing us by. The sun had become gloriously hot, the sky brilliant blue and filled with noisy squawking seagulls.
Danny appeared. “We’re nearly there. I can see the town.” He flopped down next to me and pointed to the man who was now standing on the bow with a rope looped in his hands, ready to throw it to someone waiting on the pier. “His name is Clive and he was in the Merchant Navy for thirty years. Uncle Gwilym is in the Merchant Navy.”
Brighton was a very pleasant seaside town and Mrs Babbington and I stayed in each other’s company while we visited the Pavilion. We marvelled at the music room and its wonderful chandeliers, the saloon with hand painted panels of Chinese papers and finally the banqueting room with the long table seating nearly forty people. I saw Danny yawning in his effort to be interested.
“You’ll be able to tell everyone about this when we go home,” I said encouragingly.
He looked about him. “It’s not as interesting as the steamer,” he said, pulling a face.
Mrs Babbington smiled. “Let’s find a teashop and then perhaps afterwards your mama will let you go on the boatswings.”
The rest of the holiday was lovely and Mrs Babbington and I spent every day together. By the time we said goodbye we were on first name terms.
“We must keep in touch, Isabelle. It’s been the best holiday I’ve ever had. You and your son have been delightful company.”
I scribbled my address on the back of a leaflet advertising an illusionist performing at the pavilion on the pier. “Yes, we must
write to each other.”
She gave me a white card, edged in silver. “That’s my residence in Hampshire. I’ll write as soon as I arrive home and I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
The train journey home was enjoyable and I felt refreshed and invigorated. The sea air had done us both the world of good. I thought of Mrs Babbington and sighed. It was rare for holiday friendships to survive after the holiday and I doubted we would keep in touch. I took her card out of my purse and read it once more.
Mrs Eloise Babbington
Claythorpe House
St Mary Bourne
Hampshire
No, I didn’t think I would hear from her again, but it didn’t matter. It had been nice knowing her the five days whilst in Eastbourne. But now I had the problem of considering Andrew Perry’s marriage proposal. I hadn’t come to any decision and it worried me. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings but deep down I knew he wasn’t the man for me.
It was strange how a marriage proposal and a chance meeting with a middle-aged widow would change my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
We arrived home to a letter from Ruth and Gwilym. Nan and Diamond had not wanted to open it until I was with them and the first thing we did was gather round the kitchen table. My brother and his wife were certainly enjoying themselves and had visited India and Siam. They were now on their way to the Philippines and from there, they would cross the vastness of the Pacific Ocean towards San Francisco in the United States of America. Ports in South America would come next before they sailed back to Australia.
“Nothing about coming home for Christmas?” said Diamond.
“Not a word.” I sighed and folded the letter carefully. “Perhaps next year. The trouble is, their letters are at least a month old, so we don’t know where they are at this precise moment.”
“Could be South America,” said Nan. “That means going round Cape Horn. Not a nice place to navigate I should think.”
Danny lifted his head from his book on sailing ships. “High winds and waves over one hundred feet high,” he said solemnly. “But it will be nearly summer there so they’ll be all right.” He went back to his book.
I felt slightly queasy when I returned to the theatre on Monday morning. Everyone had collected together to start rehearsing The Marriage of Figaro and I had decided that I would speak with Mr Perry straight afterwards and tell him my decision.
“Can you keep a secret, Martha?” I was sitting in my dressing room and she was sewing a bow onto my costume.
She snapped the cotton between her teeth. “Of course, Miss Barri. I’ve had to keep a lot of secrets in the past.”
I sighed gently. “I don’t suppose this is a secret exactly, but you were right about that supper I had with Mr Perry.”
She nodded. “I’ve seen it coming for ages.” She stood up and hung the dress on a hanger. “So, have you given him your answer yet?”
“I’m going to as soon as I get the chance. I wondered if you’d make yourself scarce when he makes an appearance.”
“I will indeed.”
The words had hardly left her lips when Andrew Perry came rushing through the door like a hurricane. He brought in a cold draught with him.
“Ah, there you are. I wondered if you’d have supper with me again? I really enjoyed the last time.” He gave a bright smile. “Did you have a nice holiday? Where did you go?” Martha picked up two pairs of shoes and left the room en route to the workroom to have them mended. Mr Perry watched her go in amusement. “That was very decent of her, to leave us alone.”
“I asked her to do that,” I said nonchalantly.
He drew up a seat near me. “Because you have an answer for me?”
I turned to look at him and his expectant face made my heart sink into my stomach.
“Andrew,” I said softly. The sound of his name on my lips made him smile and he reached across to take my hand. “I have thought it over and the answer has to be…no.”
He frowned in disappointment. “Is there a reason?”
I sighed heavily. “The simplest reason is that I don’t love you. And I would have to love the man I’m married to.”
He squeezed my hand tighter and his face lit up again. “Oh, is that all. But you could grow to love me.” I shook my head but it didn’t stop him. “Isabelle, I know you could. I would protect you and care for you. You would want for nothing and I’d make you so happy that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from falling in love with me.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You make it sound so romantic.”
“But it can be. Let me take you out to supper again and we can discuss it.”
“No, please don’t ask me.”
He stood and looked down at me. “Is there someone else?”
I shook my head. “There’s no one in my life.” I gave a strained laugh. “How could there be, I’m always in this blessed theatre.”
“Not always,” he murmured. “You have time away from the theatre.”
“Then I like to spend it with my son,” I said adamantly.
He made for the door. “Oh, well. At least I’ve asked,” he said, his eyes filled with disappointment. He stopped on the threshold. “If I gave you a little longer to think about it would you…?” I shook my head again. He stared down at the floor “You’re a beautiful woman and I’m not giving up that easily. Who knows, I might be able to break down your resistance eventually.”
He left the room at a slower speed than normal, closing the door quietly behind him.
I studied my reflection in the mirror and a white, pensive face stared back. I couldn’t stop the tears trickling down my cheeks. I felt sad and so sorry for Andrew. I had hurt him and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I hoped he would forgive me in time.
It was difficult living through the next few months. Andrew continued yelling at everyone, but not me, making me feel uncomfortable. The other members of the cast didn’t seem to take offence. After all, I was the diva and as far as they were concerned I should be treated with more respect than anyone else. His kindness, his gentleness, began to take its toll on me. Sometimes he seemed to treat me like a china doll that would shatter into hundreds of tiny fragments at any moment. And that’s how I felt at times. Like a precious but fragile ornament that had to be handled with kid gloves.
The Marriage of Figaro was a success and I was getting used to the applause and the standing ovations every evening. It was still wonderful and I loved being on the stage, I loved singing, but suddenly I wanted something else in my life. The trouble was, I didn’t know what. The realisation stunned me. Was it really possible that being an opera singer wasn’t enough for me? I had had the dream for so long, the yearning consuming me since I was fifteen years old. I had fulfilled that dream and now my heart was searching for something else. In my dressing room after a performance, I would sit despondently. I was now twenty-seven years old and I was surrounded by people I loved and who loved me and yet I was lonely.
“I know what he’s doing,” said Diamond. She fastened the final osprey feather and then held up the hat to admire her handiwork.
“I suppose you’re talking about Andrew Perry?”
“He’s trying to win your heart by being gentle and considerate and kind.”
“It might be working,” I laughed.
“Don’t let him wear you down, Issy. Don’t agree to be his wife unless you really want to. I’ve seen that lead to misery.”
“It might not be so bad being married again,” I murmured. That terrible feeling of loneliness swept through me once more.
“No, Issy! It would be a terrible mistake and you’ll regret it. Do you love him?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“And you always said you would have to be in love before you married again. Stick to that rule.”
“Rules are meant to be broken,” I whispered.
Diamond gave a snort of contempt. “Nonsense! Follow your feelings and you can’t go wrong.” She sa
nk back against the cushions on the couch and rubbed weary eyes. “Besides, tomorrow his whole temperament might have changed and he’ll be as snappish with you as with the rest of us.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because the news I’ll be giving him won’t be received well.”
My mouth dropped open in surprise. “You’re not getting married…?”
“No, but I am leaving Covent Garden,” she interrupted.
“You want to leave the theatre? Why?”
She let out a huge sigh. “Because I’ve been in the chorus for six years and I know I’m not going to get the slightest sniff of a supporting role, never mind a leading part.”
I frowned in puzzlement. “But I thought you weren’t interested in coming out of the chorus. I thought you were looking for a husband.”
“I am, but I don’t seem to be very successful there either.”
“So, you’re going to tell him tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I know that he wouldn’t bat an eyelid normally, since I’m hardly an important part of the company.” I made to protest but she shook her head vehemently. “I realised the truth of that long ago. What’s going to make him blow his top is that I’m defecting to the enemy.”
I frowned and she gave me a knowing wink. “Gilbert and Sullivan! You’re going to sing in their operettas?”
She nodded. “Mr Sullivan asked me last week and I’ve been thinking it over. They’re putting on The Mikado again by popular demand and he wants me to play Katisha.”
Suddenly I felt very happy for her and gripped her hand. “Oh, Diamond. You’ll make a wonderful Katisha. You have the perfect voice for her.”
“Not to mention the figure,” she grinned.
“You’ll still live here, won’t you? You’re not intending to move residence too?”
“Of course I’m staying here.” There was a few seconds of silence. “Mr Sullivan showed me round the theatre yesterday and introduced me to the cast. The fellow that actually plays the mikado is quite…delicious.”