The audience had been a small one. A handful of people drifted up the street or crossed to the café, and one couple boarded one of the rowboats moored at the wharf. There was no sign of Frannie or anyone else that Ivy thought might have been part of the cast.
Within five minutes, a man whose moon face shone with perspiration came out onto the sidewalk. He looked both ways up the street, stepped back into the theatre, and pulled the door shut.
Ivy immediately knocked on the door.
The man opened it just enough to stick his head out. “Next show’s at seven. Box office opens at six.”
“Please.” Ivy got her fingers around the edge of the door. “My mother is the star of the show. Frances Chalmers? I’d like to speak to her.”
“Sorry. The cast gets a few hours to rest now, between performances. You can see her after the final show.”
“But I’m her daughter. I’ve come on the bus, and I want her to know that I’m here.”
“Sorry. There’ll be time for the public to meet the cast later.”
“But I’m not the public!”
The man yanked the door out of her grasp and shut it firmly. Ivy heard the scrape of the lock on the other side.
Charlie sauntered across the street. “No luck?”
Ivy was indignant. “That’s absolutely ridiculous! How am I going to let her know I’m here? I can hardly believe all that’s separating me from my mother is a couple of walls.”
“If this was the Roxy, back home,” Charlie said, “I’d get you in for the next show.”
“Without a ticket?”
“Someone inside would have to agree to prop that side door open.”
“And who would do that?”
Charlie grinned and shrugged helplessly. “That’s the way we used to sneak into the movies when we were kids. We’d pool our money and buy one ticket between us. Then, the kid with the ticket would go in and sit down, and when no one was looking, he’d shove a stick in the side door to keep it open, just a crack.
“After the movie started and the theatre was dark, the rest of us would sneak in through the side door and sit in the front row, all scrunched down so the usher couldn’t see us.”
“I’ll bet that usher knew you were there all the time,” Ivy said. “It’s an old trick. Come on. I’ve got a much better idea.”
Charlie followed her back into the park where she dropped onto the nearest bench and pulled a notebook out of her purse. Tearing a sheet of paper from it, Ivy scribbled a few lines to Frannie.
Momma,
I read in the paper that you were here, and I’ve come on the bus from Larkin. I can’t believe we’re this close, but I’m not being allowed inside. The man at the door says I can’t talk to you until after the last show. But the bus leaves at 10. I am waiting right outside.
Love,
Ivy
A slightly larger crowd began to gather outside the theatre for the evening performance. Ivy joined the lineup at six o’clock. Just inside the door, a freckled youth, wearing a red bowtie, sat behind a table with a hand-printed sign that read BOX OFFICE.
“One ticket?”
“I’m not buying a ticket,” Ivy said. She spoke slowly and clearly, so that there would be no misunderstanding. “I want to let one of the actresses know that I’m here. Frances Chalmers. I’m her daughter.”
“If you haven’t got a ticket, you can’t go in,” the ticket seller said.
“I know that. All I want is for someone to hand this note to Frances Chalmers.”
“You can’t go backstage.”
“But you could, couldn’t you? Or you could give it to someone to put in her dressing room.”
With a heavy sigh and an aggrieved look at the people waiting behind her in line, the young man took Ivy’s note and slid it under his cash box. “Next!”
“It’s very important,” Ivy said, before she turned away.
She stepped out of line and walked back outside to take up her vigil again. How long would it be before Frannie read her note? When she had, would she come to the door and look for her?
At seven o’clock, the same round-faced man who had argued with Ivy earlier came and shut the front doors.
Charlie showed up again to check on her. “We could go back into the park,” he suggested. “Unless you want to wait in the café.”
“I’m going to wait right here,” Ivy said. “Now that she knows that I am this close, she may call me to come inside.”
But that didn’t happen. Before the performance was over, Ivy had counted all the nails in every board on the front wall of the Port Clear Theatre and traced each crack in the sidewalk a dozen times.
As soon as the front doors were thrown wide to let the audience trickle out, Ivy strode in. No one stopped her this time.
She made her way through a maze of loose chairs on the auditorium floor to a door beside the stage. A few members of the audience were waiting there for the cast to emerge.
Ivy opened the door and marched through, closing it behind her.
26
Return to Larkin
There were two doors off the hall that ran along the back of the stage to the side exit of the Port Clear Theatre.
Inside the first, Ivy found a dingy washroom with dripping fixtures. The other door opened into a large room that was being used as a dressing room by the actors. By squeezing through a rack of costumes that had been pulled across the doorway, Ivy managed to get inside. The room was noisy and crowded, the air thick with cigarette smoke.
Frannie stood with her back to Ivy, applying cold cream to her face from a large jar. Ivy was aware of the exact instant in which her mother saw her in the mirror.
Frannie whirled around. “Ivy! My sweet, sweet girl! It really is you! Oh, no. Don’t hug me yet.” She seized a towel off the dressing table. “You don’t want greasepaint on your blouse.”
Her face sufficiently wiped clean of makeup, Frannie turned from the mirror, clasping her hands to her breast. “What a wonderful surprise! I can’t believe it’s you.
“But you really shouldn’t have given me such a shock, Ivy. Once I knew you were here, I could barely get through the last act, and it’s such a dramatic one, too — when Norah makes her decision. You remember, don’t you? Finally standing up for herself?”
“I remember,” Ivy said. “Momma, let me look at you. Oh, you look so well. When Gloria said you’d been sick, I expected you’d be all skinny and pale. But you look wonderful.”
Frannie ran her hands down over the silky slip that draped her slim figure. “Do you really think so? It’s not always easy …”
“I’ve waited so long to hear from you, Momma.”
“Let me get dressed, dear heart, will you? Then I’ll come out and we’ll talk our little heads off.” Plucking at some clothing that hung over a folding screen, Frannie disappeared behind it.
“I’ll be out in the hall, then,” Ivy said, afraid of going too far away.
Already it seemed as if there was something missing from this reunion. But it was early, and Ivy tried to dismiss the feeling of disappointment building inside her.
A few minutes later, Frannie emerged, wearing a cotton sundress. She threaded her arm through Ivy’s as if they were best girlfriends, and they left the theatre together, through the side door. But just on the other side, they were accosted by a handful of people, eager to have a word with the star of the show.
Ivy lingered at the edge of the conversation for a while, growing increasingly impatient. Time was slipping away.
At last she managed to catch Frannie’s eye, and her mother made an announcement to her fans. “I’m afraid I really must leave you all now. This is a very special night for me. My daughter, Ivy Rose, has come a long way to see me, and I must have some time with her. You all understand,
don’t you?”
Amid murmurs of protest, Frannie walked away, trailing a hand. “No, I really can’t. Good night now, everyone, and thank you for coming.”
They made their exit.
Charlie, who had been leaning against the front of the café across the street, straightened up and watched them come toward him. Ivy was the taller of the two. The older one — the mother — was a looker, all right, but she lacked Ivy’s high colour. He hesitated before deciding to follow them into the café.
There was an empty booth near the back, and Charlie stood aside to let the women have their choice of seats.
“Sit across from me, Ivy dear,” Frannie said, “So that I can feast my eyes on you. There, that’s better.”
Without a word, Charlie slid in next to Ivy, and she gave him a bleak smile. It made him fear that things were not going as well as she had hoped.
“Now, tell me. Did you see the show?” Frannie’s voice was breathless, her clear, blue eyes wide.
“No, we didn’t. Momma …”
“Oh, shame on you! You really should have. It’s quite wonderful. It got very good reviews when we played in Brockville. It ran a full three weeks there. Next week we go to Orillia.”
“But how could I have known where you were, Momma? It’s been so long since I heard from you. A lot has happened. Gloria said she would ask you to write to me.”
“It has been a long time.” Frannie sat back in the booth, studying her daughter. “You’re almost sixteen, aren’t you? And, my dear, you have turned into quite a beauty.”
“Oh, Momma, I hardly …”
“Yes, you have.”
Frannie’s gaze fell on Charlie then, for the first time acknowledging his presence. “Isn’t she a little beauty? Well, not little, exactly; but you know what I mean. She always was tall for her age.”
Charlie mumbled something and Ivy felt embarrassed for both of them.
Knitting her finely drawn eyebrows into a frown, Frannie examined the youth. “Who is this handsome young man, Ivy? Is he your beau, then?”
“No, he’s not my beau, Mother. This is Charlie Bayliss, a friend of mine.”
“M-m-m. Very handsome indeed. Or is that red hair of yours a curse?”
“Mother, please! Charlie was kind enough to come with me today because Grandmother didn’t think I should come alone.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” said Charlie, and he extended his hand across the table.
Frannie held it longer than was necessary, putting her other hand over it and batting her eyelashes at him. Ivy had forgotten this mannerism of Frannie’s, and now she found it irritating.
“You want to know who he really is, Mother?” she demanded. “He’s my father’s stepson. Did Papa ever tell you he had a stepson?”
Frannie’s smile got even brighter, and she showed no surprise whatsoever at the announcement. “Yes, I remember. Alva’s first wife already had a little boy. Just a baby, I think. And that’s you, Charlie? How exciting! Where are you living now?”
“I live where I’ve pretty near always lived. With my Aunt Rena, outside of Larkin.”
“That year you left for New York, Mother,” Ivy said, “I spent that whole summer with my father. Did Gloria tell you that he found me? He came to Grandmother’s before he went travelling, and we finally got to meet each other. I asked if I could go with him, and he let me.
“We had a wonderful time getting to know each other. After that, he went out west for a while. But he’s back in Ontario now. He writes me letters sometimes. Did you know he’s learning to read and write? And he sends money to Grandmother whenever he can.”
No one spoke while Frannie absorbed this rush of information. Charlie cleared his throat uncomfortably and climbed out of the booth. “I’m going to watch for the bus, Ivy,” he said. “I’ll let you know when I see it.”
The clock above the soda fountain said 9:45.
“Oh, Momma,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry about all that. We haven’t got much time. Why didn’t you tell me you were back in Toronto? We could have been together. When were you going to tell me?”
Frannie smoothed an invisible tablecloth in front of her and looked at her hands. “It was supposed to be a surprise for you, Ivy. I’m sorry Gloria went and spoiled it. I was waiting till my situation was a little better.” She met her daughter’s eyes again. “But I’ll be sending for you soon.”
“How soon?”
“When this touring company gets back to the city. In a few weeks. Audiences are a little thin this year — we may have to close ahead of schedule. I think I’ll try to find a regular job when I get home.”
“That means you’re going to give up acting?”
“Well, no. I’ll never be able to give it up altogether. I may still do a little, on the side. You know what they say — once the theatre is in one’s blood …” Her voice trailed off.
“Oh, Ivy darling, don’t look so disappointed. When I’m settled, we’ll get a place and be together again. Like old times; just you and me. I remember how it was. We were a real team, weren’t we? Can’t you just make believe that we’re together? You used to have such a wonderful imagination.”
“I still have a good imagination,” Ivy said. “I need it for the stories I write. I’ve already had some of my fiction published at school, Mother. But this is my real life — it’s not make believe.”
The door of the café flew open. “Bus is coming,” Charlie called out. Immediately, several other customers stood up to leave.
Frannie slipped quickly out of the booth, but Ivy clutched at the sash on the back of her dress, suddenly overcome by the feeling that this might be the last time they saw each other. “Momma, listen. I don’t have to go. I could stay here with you.”
“Ivy, you know you can’t do that.”
“Why not? Where are you staying?”
“In a room at the hotel down the street. There are eight of us in two rooms.”
Charlie was signalling frantically from the open door. “Come on, Ivy. They’re loading up.”
“Please, Momma. We could be together.” Without wanting to, she had become that small child again, begging Frannie to take her with her, filled with the old fear of abandonment.
“Ivy, there are five women in the room now, and two kids.”
“I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“You coming, Ivy?”
Ivy hurried to the door. “You have to go, Charlie. You’ve got to tell Grandmother that I’m staying with my mother.”
“When are you coming home, then?”
“Momma’s here till Sunday.”
“You want me to tell her you won’t be home till Sunday? She’s going to be awful mad.”
The waitress at the counter spoke up then. “Oh, Miss? There’s no other bus after this one, till next Tuesday.”
“Ivy,” Frannie said. “You must go.”
“I can’t lose you again, Momma, now that I’ve finally found you.”
Charlie was out on the step, gesturing at the bus driver to be patient. Instead, he sounded the horn rudely.
“If you’re staying, I’m staying,” Charlie said, and he stepped back inside. “I’ll go tell the driver to go without us.”
“No, no, you can’t! That’s not fair! Grandmother will be frantic if you don’t go back and tell her.”
Ivy cast a desperate glance over her shoulder. She caught Frannie in the act of smoothing her hair in the mirror above the lunch counter, wetting the two little kiss curls on her cheek with a finger, and running her tongue over her lips.
For an instant their eyes met.
Recovering quickly, Frannie put a hand on Ivy’s shoulder and propelled her toward the door. “You said it yourself, Ivy; this is your real life. You need to be sensible now.”
The bus had already started to pull away from the curb when Charlie grabbed Ivy’s hand and drew her down the steps of the café. He used his other hand to wave down the driver, who brought the vehicle to a wheezing stop. When the door opened they climbed on board, ignoring the glares of the other passengers.
Charlie guided Ivy into the nearest seat and dropped down beside her. He didn’t dare look at her. He expected she would be furious at him for dragging her away. It would probably be best to keep quiet until she was ready to speak, if she spoke to him again.
It was a long time before Ivy turned to face him with a wan smile. “That was awful, wasn’t it?” she said. “There were so many things we needed to talk about, and I wasted time trying to find out when she was going to ask me to come home.”
“Did she tell you?”
Shaking her head, Ivy replied, “No, not really. But I don’t think my mother can answer that question, anyway.” She let out a shuddering sigh.
“My mother hadn’t laid eyes on me in three years, and she wanted to talk about her play and why we hadn’t seen it. I don’t know why that should surprise me. That’s the way it’s always been. Nothing gets in the way of Frannie’s acting career. Not even me. Other people knew the truth about her already. But I didn’t see it. Till now.”
“Well, how could you?” Charlie said. “Weren’t you just a little kid when she left?”
“I was twelve-and-a-half. I think I knew the minute I saw her in the dressing room today that she had everything she wanted.”
“I’m real sorry, Ivy,” Charlie said. “Maybe we shouldn’t have gone.”
“No. It’s good that we did. Because now I know what I have to do. It’s quite simple. From this day on, I’m just going to accept that Frannie will always be Frannie, and I’m not going to expect her to be any different.”
Ivy turned her face to the dark window and saw her reflection there. It surprised her a little that she looked exactly the same as she had that morning. She thought that there should be some outward evidence of what had just happened to her.
She laid her head against the back of the seat, filled with a wonderful sense of being a whole person at last, and the only one responsible for her happiness. No matter what her mother decided to do next, Frannie no longer had the power to disappoint her.
Growing Up Ivy Page 14