‘The woman next door knows some of this but not all. She had no right to speak to you as she did.’
For a while, Susan was silent as she tried to take in all that Ted had told her. At last she looked at him. ‘I wish you’d told me this in the beginning.’
He smiled wryly. ‘I wish I had too, but it isn’t a happy story and it doesn’t make me much of a prospect, does it? Apart from that, you might have thought I was to blame.’
‘How could you be to blame?’
‘For all you knew I might have driven her away. I might have been a bad husband – might have been violent or abusive.’
‘Knowing you, I’m certain none of those things applied to you.’
‘But back then you didn’t know me. I would have told you eventually, Susan. I had no intention of keeping you in the dark. But when we first met I knew at once that you were going to be someone special and I couldn’t risk losing you.’ He sighed. ‘Unfortunately Mrs Freeman forestalled me.’
‘I should never have listened to her,’ Susan said. ‘I should have given you the chance to explain.’
He shook his head. ‘It was understandable that you felt shocked and let down, believed that I’d misled you.’ He looked at her. ‘Under the circumstances I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me again. I just wanted you to know the truth. I couldn’t bear the thought of you thinking me a liar and a – philanderer.’
Very tentatively Susan reached for his hand. ‘Oh, Ted, what a sad life you’ve had,’ she said. ‘Now that I know all this how could you imagine that I would want to end our friendship? I’ve missed you too – so much.’
His eyes lit up. ‘Are you saying you’d be happy for us to start seeing each other again?’
‘Of course, though it might be better for us to meet at my flat in future.’
‘Whatever you say.’ Ted stood up and held out his hand to her. ‘Shall we walk back to the cafe? I don’t know about you but I could murder a cup of tea.’
Susan laughed and took his hand. ‘Me too.’
Walking back through the park in the sunshine with Ted, Susan’s heart lifted. Although she felt desperately sorry for the poor woman in the care home she felt that Ted deserved some happiness and contentment at last for all that he had suffered. As for her, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so happy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I couldn’t believe it. The very next day after the article had appeared in the Sunday Sphere, I had a call from one of the agents I’d left my details with. I called at once and an interview was arranged for the following day.
Di was thrilled. ‘There! What did I tell you?’ she said. ‘I knew it was a good idea to put yourself out there.’
I pulled a face at her. ‘Making myself look like a gullible idiot, you mean,’ I said. ‘Maybe they’re just looking for a cleaning woman.’
‘Get away with you,’ Di said. ‘This could be the making of you.’
Dressed in the Chanel suit, carefully sponged and pressed, I made my way to the agent’s office at the appointed time and sat nervously in reception. Looking around the room, I was impressed by the signed photographs of many well-known celebrities displayed on the walls.
The door opened and a man came out. A moment after he left, the receptionist’s phone rang. She listened briefly, then replaced the receiver and looked across at me. ‘Mr Jason will see you now.’
He was middle-aged with silver-grey hair and an attractive, warm smile. He rose and offered his hand. ‘Good morning, Miss Delmar. I’m Patrick Jason. Please have a seat.’ When we faced each other across his desk he said, ‘I read the article in the Sunday Sphere about your bad experience. The name rang a bell and I looked in my in-tray and found the details you left at the office a few days ago.’ He looked up at me. ‘Surely you had an agent before all this?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, Harry Clay. Unfortunately he put money into the project too and it has put him out of business.’
‘I see. I had heard he was retiring, but I had no idea that he was another victim of this terrible business.’ He looked at me speculatively. ‘This Fortune man fooled us all. It was brave of you to go to the national press with your story,’ he said.
‘I don’t know about that.’ I smiled. ‘It might well turn out to be the end of my career, but frankly it was a case of desperation. I needed the money. It was as simple as that.’ I looked at him and decided I might as well lay my cards on the table. ‘I couldn’t believe my luck when I got the leading role in this new musical. It seemed like the big break I’d been longing for, and when I was asked to put money into it I was only too eager. I was supposed to get my money back, plus generous interest once the show was up and running.’
‘I can’t begin to imagine how you all felt when you found yourselves stranded high and dry in Bournemouth.’
I gave him a wry smile. ‘It was a blow to say the least. Then when Harry told me he was closing the agency, it looked as if I was going to be out of work for some time. I had to do something.’
He shook his head. ‘So you decided to go public?’
‘Yes.’ I sighed. ‘The price I paid being that now everyone will know how vain and gullible I was.’
‘So, you’ve had no work since?’
‘Not in the business. I did have a job at a West End wedding-dress boutique,’ I told him. ‘It only lasted a few days though. The owner was a twenty-four-carat cow.’
He laughed. ‘I liked the sound of you in the article,’ he said. ‘It showed me that you have character, the ability to laugh at yourself.’
I decided to ask him point blank where all this was going. ‘So – why did you ask me to come in? Are you offering to represent me?’
He pursed his lips. ‘I do have one or two things in mind that might suit you.’ He looked at me. ‘Meantime, would you be willing to do some commercial TV?’
‘Anything to keep the wolf from the door.’
‘Right.’ He made a note on his pad. ‘Have you done any TV work before?’
I opened my mouth to tell him I had and then closed it again. The time had come to be honest. If I lied about this he’d be bound to find out and that could ruin any future chances I might have. ‘No,’ I said. ‘But it’s always been an ambition of mine.’
‘OK. If anything comes up I’ll give you a ring.’ He leaned back in his chair and eyed me for a moment. ‘I’ve just had a thought. One of the TV soaps is auditioning next week,’ he said at last. ‘Have you done character?’
I shook my head, remembering my decision to be truthful. ‘Not really, though I admit I’m getting close to that age. What’s the part?’
‘A middle-aged motherly type,’ he said. ‘The kind of sympathetic woman everyone turns to in times of trouble. Do you watch King’s Reach?’
I nodded. I’d seen it a few times when I was staying with Susan. Susan! She was just the kind of woman he’d just described to me. I knew Susan well enough to use her as a role model. ‘I quite like the sound of that,’ I told him.
‘You wouldn’t mind playing older than your age?’
‘Not at all.’ At that particular moment I wasn’t at all sure about playing older but beggars certainly couldn’t be choosers. And I reminded myself that some of those soap stars had been playing the same part for years. A guaranteed income sounded pretty good to me, playing older or not.
He opened a file on his desk and took out a sheet of paper. ‘Here’s the character description. She’s called Amy Armstrong. Take it home and have a read. The audition is next Thursday. I’ll text you the address of the venue when they let me have it. Meanwhile, I’ll ring you if a commercial opportunity comes along.’ He paused. ‘Are you still at the address you left me?’
‘Oh, no. What a good job you thought to ask. I’ll be staying with a friend for the foreseeable future.’ I scribbled down Di’s address and passed it to him. ‘But you can always get me on my mobile.’ I stood up. ‘Thank you so much for seeing me, Mr Jason.’
; He smiled. ‘Patrick, please. Let’s hope it all works out for you.’
The following morning I had two calls; the first was from Patrick Jason, giving me the address of the audition venue. I was so excited when I clicked the call off that I went to the fridge and poured myself a celebratory glass of wine. I wished Di could have been with me to share the excitement. I was sipping my wine and studying the character description once more when my phone rang again.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, Louise.’
I recognized the voice at once and my heart plummeted. ‘What do you want?’ I asked bluntly.
‘Oh, come on Louise,’ my mother said. ‘I’m just ringing to say how sorry I was to read about your disappointment. It was such a lovely photo in the paper too.’
‘So now you and your son will realize that I’m actually broke,’ I said. ‘If you think I’m rolling in cash and a soft touch, you’re going to have to think again.’
‘You’re very suspicious, Louise. I can’t think where you get that from.’ Her voice had a hard note to it now.
‘Neither can I. So we might as well call it a day now,’ I told her. ‘I’ll be frank. I don’t want a relationship with you. It’s too late and I don’t think we have anything in common anyway.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that you think that, Louise,’ she said. ‘But before we part company, there’s something you should know about yourself. Something important that no one knows about but me.’
‘I don’t think you know anything that I don’t.’ I held my finger over the ‘end call’ button but what she said next stopped me.
‘Don’t hang up, Louise! This is something you really should know – for your own sake. I’m not joking.’
There was something chilling about her tone and I began to be apprehensive. ‘Then tell me now.’
‘Not on the phone,’ she said. ‘It’s not trivial, Louise, and I’m not kidding. We really have to meet for me to tell you – even if it is for the last time.’
She’d got me now. In spite of myself I was curious. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Where and when?’
‘King’s Cross Station,’ she said. ‘In the café – Thursday, at one o’clock.’
‘Thursday?’ It was the day of the audition. ‘Can you make it any other day?’
‘Thursday would be best.’
I thought about it. I should be able to make it by one o’clock. If not she’d have to wait. But why meet at a railway station?
‘King’s Cross? Why there?’ I asked.
‘I’m meeting someone off a train at two. It’s convenient.’
‘All right, I’ll try to be there.’
‘It’s to your advantage to be there, Louise. See you on Thursday, then.’
After the call, I sat there for a long time, my excitement about the audition temporarily forgotten as I wondered what she was about to tell me about myself. Could it be that I was a carrier for some horrible disease? Or was it just some devious trick? I decided not to think about it for the moment. Concentrating on the audition was my priority.
I arrived at the studio in good time and was dismayed to find about twelve other actresses waiting, not least of which was none other but Carla Dean. To my dismay she soon spotted me and came across.
‘Fancy seeing you here, darling,’ she said. ‘I saw the article all about you in the Sunday Sphere. Anyone would think you were the only one to be cheated.’ She sniffed. ‘A very flattering photograph, I thought. When was that taken – ten years ago?’
‘It was taken by the paper’s own photographer,’ I told her.
‘Then they must have airbrushed it,’ she said. ‘So how did you hear about this?’
‘My new agent, Patrick Jason.’
Her finely plucked eyebrows rose. ‘Jason, eh? Personally I was tipped off by a friend and it seemed like the sort of thing that would suit me down to the ground.’ She smiled smugly. ‘I know a couple of the production crew actually. Just between you and me the rest of you might as well go home now. I think it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion.’
‘Well, good luck, then.’
We were called in one by one. When it was my turn I pulled out all the stops, reading the test piece with Susan very much in mind. When everyone had auditioned, the production assistant came out and told us we’d be notified in a few days’ time. Carla looked at me. ‘Coming for a drink?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I have another appointment,’ I said. No way was I going to sit in some wine bar being bombarded with personal questions by Carla. We parted company in the street outside and she wandered off. I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to one. If I was going to make King’s Cross on time I was going to have to hail a taxi.
I knew there was more than one café or coffee shop at King’s Cross station and my ‘mother’ hadn’t said which one, but I soon spotted her, sitting at one of the tables outside. She saw me and waved me over.
‘You’re late. I began to think you weren’t coming.’
I hoisted myself onto the high stool opposite her. ‘The traffic was bad.’
‘Oh well, you’re here now. Do you want to go and get a coffee?’
‘No. I just want you to get to the point,’ I said. ‘What is this you need to tell me?’
She took a leisurely sip of her own coffee, looking at me speculatively over the rim of the mug. ‘Do you remember the night I left?’ she asked. ‘Or were you too young at the time?’
‘I remember it as though it was yesterday,’ I told her. ‘In fact, I’ve been having nightmares about it ever since.’
She snorted disbelievingly. ‘Well now, aren’t you the drama queen!’
‘So – it’s something about the night you left,’ I said. ‘I thought you said it was about me.’
‘It is.’ She picked up her spoon and began to swirl what was left of her coffee. ‘Did your dad ever tell you what we rowed about?’
‘Of course not. Look …’ I was fast losing patience with her. ‘Just get to the point. How does this concern me?’
She looked up at me with a hint of triumph in her eyes. ‘Your dad and I rowed because I told him he wasn’t your father.’
I stared at her. ‘You what?’
‘I told him the truth: that he wasn’t the father of my child!’
It was as though a chill hand clutched my heart. ‘I don’t believe you.’
She smiled maddeningly. ‘What do you want – a DNA test? It’s a bit late for that!’
My mouth dried. Suddenly I had trouble breathing. ‘But – he kept me – brought me up. He was my dad and I loved him. If what you say is true, why didn’t you take me with you?’
She shrugged. ‘I was young. I wanted to be free.’
I winced. ‘If Frank Davies wasn’t my father, then who was?’
‘Could be one of several,’ she said casually. ‘I was a good-time girl back then. I played the field, as they say.’
I felt sick. Getting down from my stool, I took one last look at the woman who had given birth to me. ‘You bitch!’ I said. ‘I hope I never have to see you again.’
‘Likewise, I’m sure,’ she said with a laugh. ‘You and your boasting about being the big wealthy star. You’re nothing but a small-time extra – if that!’ As I walked away she called after me, ‘You’ll never amount to anything – you’re bloody useless – just like that fool you called Dad!’
I made a beeline for the ladies’ and locked myself in a cubicle where I was wretchedly sick. My heart was thumping and the tears ran unchecked down my cheeks. I came out of the cubicle feeling weak and stood shakily, clutching one of the wash-basins. A concerned-looking woman asked me if I was all right. I shook my head.
‘I’ll be fine in a minute,’ I said ‘It’s a stomach upset – something I ate.’ I dashed some water on my face and hurriedly made my escape.
As luck would have it, Di was out all evening. One of her colleagues was having a hen night. I made myself a sandwich but it was like sawdust in my mouth and eventuall
y I threw it in the bin and took myself off to bed. I heard Di come in around midnight but she was quiet and I didn’t call out to her. I fell at last into a fitful sleep but the dream seemed to begin almost at once. A crowd of people were laughing derisively at me and in the centre of them was my mother, her face a mask of hate as she pointed and jeered. When I looked down I held a baby in my arms. In deep shock, I threw the baby from me and heard it scream as it fell. The screams and the scornful laughter grew louder and louder until they became unbearable. I put my hands over my ears and I heard myself shouting, ‘Stop it! Stop it!’
‘Lou – Lou! Wake up!’
I opened my eyes to see Di’s concerned face looking down at me. Still shaking, I hoisted myself into a sitting position, my heart thudding. ‘Was – was I talking in my sleep?’
‘Shouting more like,’ she said. ‘It must have been a horrible dream. Do you want to tell me about it?’
Suddenly everything crowded in on me. I was overwhelmed by a terrible feeling of grief and I burst into tears. Di put her arms round me and held me close.
‘What is it? I’ve never seen you cry before.’
‘I – I had some bad news,’ I stammered, swallowing hard.
‘What was it, Lou – the audition?’
The audition! I could almost have laughed. It seemed like a million years ago. So trivial that I’d completely forgotten about it. I shook my head. ‘No. That was OK, they’re letting us know. There were dozens of applicants so I don’t suppose I’ve got a chance.’ I looked at her. ‘Afterwards I went to meet my mother – birth mother, I mean.’
‘So you found her? You didn’t tell me.’
I shook my head. ‘It was some time ago and it wasn’t what you’d call a roaring success. In fact it was a disaster. She was nothing like I’d imagined her. She was only interested in meeting me because she thought I was going to be a star and have lots of cash. Then I made the mistake of telling her I’d inherited Dad’s money. She asked me for cash the first time we met but when she realized I wasn’t going to be a never-ending source of easy money, she didn’t want to know.’
‘So why did you meet her again today?’
Give Me Tomorrow Page 19