101 Pieces of Me (12 page)

“Not exactly, no.” Satisfying though her interest was, I did not wish to exaggerate. “David does not wish to have it discussed. He can’t stand gossip, he says, so I’m not sure how much the others know about—”

“Has he kissed you?” interrupted Mary.

“Oh, yes.”

“Properly, she means,” added Florence.

I couldn’t help smiling. In the world of Haverth girls, “properly” meant “improperly”. “Oh, yes,” I said again. “And he’s taken me to dinner loads of times, and he bought me this.” I drew back my cuff and showed them the gold and emerald bracelet. “It’s my Christmas present, a little early, he said.”

Mary was enchanted, but Florence hardened her features and studied me. “How old is he?”

“I’m not sure. Twenty-five or twenty six?”

“So he’s very successful, then. For his age, I mean. Must have rich parents.”

“Perhaps.” The idea that David might have parents, rich or otherwise, had never entered my consciousness. He never spoke of them, and since his whole demeanour was that of an entirely adult man, at ease in society, I had never thought to question how he had achieved this. “And he’s clever,” I added. “And makes films that people like. So investors give him money to make more films, and the films make money for him, and that’s how it works.”

“I see,” said Flo. “So how did he get into this pictures business in the first place?”

“I don’t know, Flo,” I told her truthfully. “We’ve hardly had time to discover every little thing about each other’s lives, you know.”

“I bet you haven’t,” she said airily. “Too busy doing something else! You know what people say about actresses, don’t you?”

“Flo!” scolded Mary. Her colour rising, she turned to me in concern. “Don’t listen to her, Sarah. She’s only jealous. Actresses these days are nothing like … you know.”

I sighed. “It’s all right. Flo doesn’t mean I’m the nearest thing to a prostitute, she means that people with old-fashioned ideas might
think
I am. Right, Flo?”

Florence did not reply.

“And anyway,” I continued, “David’s not like that at all. He’s the loveliest man you could ever hope to meet, and I’m the luckiest girl in the world because he cares for me.”

“Let’s hope he does,” said Florence. She took off my fur and handed it back, her face inscrutable. “It’s obvious you care for him. But you know, Sair, when Bobby Pritchard went out with Glenys Harding behind my back, when I was sure he was my true love, my mam said to me, ‘The heart can be mistaken.’”

M
y heart was not mistaken. When I returned to the hotel after Christmas, I had not taken three steps across the foyer before I heard my name.

“Miss Hope!” It was the little round man who worked the evening shift behind the reception desk. “I have messages for you.”

I approached the desk. The receptionist took several pieces of paper from the pigeonhole marked with my room number and passed them to me. Mystified, I thanked him.

They were telephone messages, written in the varying handwriting of several receptionists. All of them said more or less the same thing:
Mr Penn wishes to speak to Miss Hope as soon as she arrives. Please could she telephone Thamesbank 067
. The messages also reported the times and dates of his calls, at least twice a day over the last three days. He had been persistent.

I went to the telephone box near the entrance to the hotel bar, shut the folding door and picked up the receiver. “Thamesbank 067,” I said to the operator, and after a short silence, the phone rang in David’s house. My heart raced, my hairline felt damp, the hand that was not grasping the receiver shook a little.
David, David my love, eager to see me, impatient for my return, missing me…

“Hello?”

I was so taken aback to hear a woman’s voice, I did not answer.

“Hello? Who is this, please?” she asked sharply.

“Is that … um … Mr Penn’s residence?”

“It is.” The sharp tone had subsided a little. “May I help you?”

I had gathered my wits. “I’d like to speak to him, please.”

“Whom shall I say is calling?”

“Miss Hope.”

“Very well. One moment.”

I heard the click-clicking of the woman’s shoes on polished floorboards, and muffled voices.

Then a man’s footsteps approached. “Clara? Is that you?”

“Oh, David!”

“You got my messages, then?”

“Yes. Is something the matter? Or did you just want … I don’t know, to talk to me?”

He laughed. A small, gurgling laugh like an amused child. “Of course I wanted to talk to you! My darling, I
always
want to talk to you! But yes, I suppose something
is
the matter. I’d rather tell you about it in person, though. Would you like to go out?”

“Actually, David, I’m rather tired. I’ve been travelling all day.”

I hoped he would suggest that his driver pick me up and bring me to his house on the island, but he did not. I could hear him drawing his breath through his teeth, calculating. “Then I’ll be at the hotel in … thirty minutes? Meet you in the bar.”

“W
ho was the woman who answered the telephone?”

“My housekeeper,” mumbled David, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He took it out and removed a stray piece of tobacco from his lower lip. “Mrs Schofield. Terrible old tyrant, but she knows her job.”

She had not sounded very old, but I could imagine that the woman who had spoken to me could be tyrannical. “Is it finished, then?” I asked.

He was lighting the cigarette. He looked up at me with his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“The house. Is it finished?”

“Ah! Not really,” he said, and puffed thoughtfully a few times. “Mrs S. was away while the bathrooms were being done as there was no water, but she came back after Christmas to put things straight. They’re starting on the kitchen tomorrow, so she’ll be off again. God knows when the men will eventually quit the place. But now …” – he gave a quick, excited smile – “let me tell you why I wished to see you the instant you arrived. I have something to ask you, and I need to be put out of my misery.” He took my hand. “In the spring, when the film is finished but before I am imprisoned in the cutting room for months, I have a few days free. Would you like to come away with me? Perhaps to the seaside?” His excited look turned to an imploring one. “Please, please say yes, Clara – it would make me the happiest man alive if I could have you to myself, away from here, even for a couple of days. Will you come?”

I took his other hand and held it tight. My heart hammering, I laid my head tenderly on his chest. I did not care that we were in a public place; I did not care if the whole world knew I had found the man I loved. I was so happy I could hardly form the words. “David,” I murmured, “you know I will.” Raising my head, I smiled at him. “There, now. Has that put you out of your misery?”

T
he next morning, Aidan was in a bad mood. He argued with David, and Dennis, and even Jeanette, to whom he was usually reasonably polite. He swore under his breath during rehearsals and sometimes during our takes as well.

I was disgusted with him. I wished the filming was over, so I would never have to see him again. But I also wished the filming would
never
be over, so that I could go on seeing David every day. This conflict, and the fact that I had slept little the night before, made me grumpy too. I did not want to be under these lights, perspiring in this costume. I wanted to be in David’s arms, drunk with champagne and love. By the time we had parted last night, I had made up my mind that nothing –
nothing
– would take me away from my true love. If I had to follow him from film to film across the whole world, I would. If his films were flops and he lost all his money, I would be there, ready to support him. I would bear his children and look after him in sickness and health. If necessary I would give up my life for his, like people did in stories. Our life together would
be
a story. A love story.

“Aidan, why don’t you just go home?” I asked plaintively. “You’re being even more impossible than usual today, and I can’t stand it.”

He sighed. As he exhaled, the familiar smell of whisky came to me, even though it was only eleven o’clock in the morning. “Then why don’t
you
go home?” he asked illogically.

He was obviously drunk. Being drunk on the set was one of the very few reasons an actor could be released from his contract. I stepped further away from him. “You had better not let David see what condition you are in if you want to keep your job.”

“I am in perfect condition,” he said bitterly. “Like a well-maintained car. Or a Havana cigar.” He pondered for a second. “Speaking of which, you haven’t got a cigarette, have you?”

Somehow we got through that day’s work. Though I was used to Aidan’s behaviour by now, I suspected it was made worse by his jealousy of David. Neither David nor I could do anything to please him; he criticized my performance, David defended me, Aidan turned away in exasperation and so it went on until we were all exhausted.

I hurried to my dressing room, my nerves strung tight. “Maria, be quick,” I told her breathlessly, unbuttoning my dress, my heart full of excitement at spending another evening with David. “I wish to be ready in case … anyone wants me. And I wish to get away before Mr Tobias!”

Half-smiling, she helped me out of my costume. She did not acknowledge my comment, though she must have been aware of the reason behind it. She might not witness much of the filming, but Aidan’s dresser, Spencer, no doubt privately complained about him to her. I put on my robe and sat down at the dressing-table. “Horrid day today, Maria,” I said, and reached for the cold cream.

“How much longer, Miss Hope, do you know?” she asked as she hung up my dress.

“Mr Penn says we are to finish at the end of January.” I slapped cream on to my cheeks and began to smear it over my face. “If nothing goes wrong, anyway.”

“Let’s hope nothing goes wrong, then. I’ve got a job in the West End coming up.”

“Oh, you’re a theatre dresser too, are you?” I was interested. It had never before occurred to me that Maria, like me and the other actors, might be working for David Penn Productions only under contract and that her future was as uncertain as mine.

She nodded. Her smile had disappeared. “I prefer that work. It goes on longer than a film if the show’s successful. Though it doesn’t pay so well, of course.”

“Of course,” I agreed, though I had no idea. “Tell me, Maria…” I began, but I had no chance to finish my question, because at that moment there was a noise outside the room so loud and unexpected that we looked at each other in astonishment. I got up quickly and Maria opened the door.