Dreaming Out Loud (7 page)

Even more interesting than the clothes are the boxes of letters and photographs and theatre programmes. I’m afraid Lana wasn’t at all methodical with paperwork, and it will be a nightmare trying to get them in order. I don’t know why I feel compelled to do this. Perhaps it is just curiosity on my part – the chance to peer into someone else’s life – or maybe it’s a perfectly natural desire to find out more about the woman who was once your friend and who became my godmother, and yet who walked away from us without a backward glance.

I’m glad that your plans are going ahead smoothly, and yes, I’m happy for you to contact Mr Butler about the purchase of the new house and the money I’ve agreed to give you and Julie. I’m sorry that Miss Pearson and Miss Elkin took the news so badly, but I think you should take this as a tribute to the way you have looked after them. Staying here in Brook Lodge has made me realise how good a cook you are and how lucky I have been.

Mum, I’m really glad that you won’t have to take in lodgers any more and I hope you and Julie will be happy in your new home.

Love,

Kay

Kay looked at what she had written before putting the letter in the envelope. Something about it made her stop and think. She had asked her mother if she should send some of Lana’s clothes home for her and Julie. ‘Send’, not ‘bring’. She had also said she hoped her mother and her sister would be happy in their new home. She had not suggested that she would be there with them.

In the letter she had written to Miss Bennet she had said that she felt as though she was in limbo – a state of uncertainty. And that was true. She didn’t know whether she wanted to go home to the people and places she knew, and yet she could not imagine a life in London nor what she would do if she stayed.

Thoughtfully, she put the folded pages of her letter in the envelope and sealed it. There was no one at reception and Kay could hear tinny voices and recorded laughter coming from behind a closed door. Mrs Price must be listening to the wireless. There was no need to ring the bell and summon her to the hall. Kay left the letters on the desk as she had been told to do, and she also left five pence to cover the cost of two postage stamps. Then she went to bed.

Six days later Kay was in Moira’s office, but this time, instead of relaxing in the armchair, she was facing Mr Butler’s secretary across her desk. Moira held a letter in her hand and stared at Kay incredulously. ‘This letter is from your mother’s solicitor,’ Moira said. ‘Is it true? You’ve really agreed to buy a house for your mother as well as give a sum of money to both her and your sister?’

‘Yes, it’s true.’

‘Why would you do this?’

‘Well, my mother . . . my mother . . .’

‘Talked you into it?’

Kay shook her head. ‘It’s not a matter of her talking me into it. It’s just that when she pointed it out, it seemed unfair for me to have everything.’

‘So you’ve given half of it away?’

‘Yes.’

Kay shifted on the hard wooden seat uncomfortably. One of the legs was shorter than the other three, and every time she moved she felt as though she were going to tip over. She wondered if Moira had placed it there deliberately as a punishment for displeasing her.

In spite of the glass-shaded light above the desk, the room had grown progressively darker since she had arrived to collect the keys. What had started as a miserable drizzle was now a downpour. Fleetingly she wondered whether she might ask Moira if she could borrow an umbrella, but after one glance at the secretary’s cross expression she decided not to.

‘Kay,’ Moira put the letter down and lit a cigarette. When she spoke it was difficult to judge her expression through the haze of smoke. ‘Kay,’ she repeated, ‘your mother has chosen a very expensive house.’

‘I know.’

‘It seems to me that she is the one who is not being fair.’

Not wishing to meet Moira’s eyes, Kay stared obdurately at the typewriter.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ Moira said.

Kay shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’

She wished she had asked for the keys to the house as soon as she had arrived, and then, regardless of the rainstorm, she might have made her escape. The phone rang, saving her momentarily from Moira’s wrath, but the caller was dealt with briskly, and when Moira replaced the receiver she picked up the letter and read through it again. ‘You could at least tell your mother that she must choose a less expensive house,’ she said, ‘and as for giving Julie two hundred pounds, that’s extravagant, to say the least.’

‘She’s my sister.’

‘You were Lana’s goddaughter. Julie was not.’

‘My mother was Lana’s friend.’

Moira leaned back and narrowed her eyes. ‘But they didn’t keep up the friendship, did they? Haven’t you wondered why?’

‘I just don’t know. Lana used to visit us every now and then. She would bring presents – for Julie, too. Her visits were always exciting. Then suddenly the visits stopped. My mother would never talk about her. But I don’t think that’s significant. You see, my mother doesn’t like talking about anything that happened in the past; not just Lana’s visits.’

Moira picked up the letter and held it out towards Kay. ‘Did it not occur to you, Kay, that this is not what Lana wanted?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘For goodness’ sake, don’t pretend to be stupid.’

Kay felt herself flushing. ‘I’m not pretending, and I’m not stupid.’

‘Good. Now that we’ve established that, are you instructing me to go ahead with these arrangements?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Your saying please doesn’t make me feel any better about it.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘So you should be.’ Moira opened a drawer in her desk and took out a bunch of keys. She sighed and handed them to Kay. ‘Here you are. I was going to come with you, but to tell the truth I feel too exasperated.’

Kay took the keys and walked towards the door. Just as she was just about to open it, Moira said, ‘Wait. I think you’d better borrow this umbrella.’

Clutching the coal scuttle, Kay braved the rain and dashed across the small garden to the coalhouse set in the back wall. Her spirits rose when she discovered it was almost full. She loaded up the scuttle and made her way back to the kitchen.

The apple-green enamelled range had a fireplace and grate on the left, and a large and small oven on the right. The oven doors had paler green inserts which matched the doors of the kitchen cabinets. The counter tops were stainless steel and the lino on the floor was pale green and grey. That would be hard to keep clean, Kay thought as she glanced at the footmarks she had just left there.

The fire was no problem – she dealt with it efficiently and was soon rewarded with a satisfying warmth – but she was relieved to see that the kitchen also boasted a gas cooker, as she had never had to cope with cooking on a range. When she had lit the fire she had seen a damper and pulled it out, guessing that there would be a back boiler, which meant there would soon be hot water.

Why am I thinking like this?
she asked herself.
It’s not as if I’m going to be here for very long.

She had propped Moira’s umbrella up in the sink to let it drain dry, and now she draped her coat over the back of a chair. She looked at it anxiously, hoping that she hadn’t dirtied it when she was making the fire, and also that it would prove as durable as it was fashionable. She had never paid as much as fifty-five shillings for a coat before. She arranged it carefully so that none of it was touching the floor, and then made herself a cup of tea. Moira had made sure that the cupboards and the refrigerator contained the basics.

Sitting at the table with her tea and the biscuit tin, she wriggled out of her wet shoes and was surprised and cheered to find that the floor was quite warm. She was still feeling upset after the conversation with Moira, so she decided she would sit and compose herself before going upstairs to choose which bedroom she would have. Only then did she remember the two letters Mrs Price had given her when she checked out of Brook Lodge earlier that morning. Fishing them out of her bag, she looked at the envelopes and realised that she recognised the writing on both of them. She opened the letter from her mother first and discovered that Moira Davies wasn’t the only person who was cross with her.

27th October 1949

Dear Kay,

I can’t imagine why you would think I would want any of Lana Fontaine’s cast-off clothes. No matter that Miss Davies says they’ve never been worn, just looking at them would remind me of the time she hardly had enough rags to cover her back and I had to lend her something to wear if she was going out anywhere.

The show girls often had to get their own costumes together for a new act, and that meant opening their purses. Lana would come to me with that false, apologetic smile and say, ‘Thelma, darling, about the rent this week . . .’

No, Kay, as far as the clothes are concerned, I think you should give them to the Salvation Army or take them along to a second-hand shop and see how much you can get for them. As for the photographs, why on earth are you bothering to go through them? What use will that sort of thing be to anyone now that Lana has gone? Take my advice and put them all out straight away. What you find there will be nothing to do with you.

And my, haven’t you got pally with this secretary, Miss Davies? She’s all over your letter. It’s Moira this, and Moira that. I’m sure it must be very nice for you to have this clever new friend.

Well, at least I’ve got my new house to look forward to. Julie is very excited about living in that part of town. I wonder if we’ll be able to move in in time for Christmas.

You’ll be pleased to know that Mrs Fraser, who will be renting this house when we have moved, has agreed to have Miss Elkin and Miss Pearson. I’ve heard she is a respectable woman who used to cook at the British Restaurant here during the war. So they should be well fed.

Do you realise that in your letter you never mentioned when you would be coming home? Perhaps you would let me know.

Love,

Mum

Feeling thoroughly miserable again, Kay put her mother’s letter back in the envelope, then, on the spur of the moment, she rose and tossed it in the fire. She had no idea what had prompted her to do so, but for some reason it made her feel better. She topped up her cup of tea before opening the second letter – the one from Tony.

27th October 1949

Dear Kay,

I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that you slipped away to London without telling me exactly when you were going or when you would be coming back. And, so far, I haven’t heard a word from you. Oh, I know you are sorting out your late godmother’s house, but surely you could find time to write and tell me how you are getting on. Or if not, there is such a thing as a telephone, you know. I’m sure they must have one at the guest house.

Kay, have you any idea how embarrassing it was for me to have to go and ask your mother for your address? In fact it was worse than that. Your mother was out, and Julie answered the door. Now your sister has got it into her pretty little head that you and I have quarrelled; otherwise you would have written to me once you arrived in London. Have we quarrelled, Kay? I keep thinking back to the last time we went out together. I have to say, you seemed a little distant, but I don’t think we quarrelled.

I’m sorry if this letter makes me appear to be thoroughly out of sorts with you, because I’m afraid there’s more. Julie told me that you have given her two hundred pounds and also that you are buying a house for your mother. Your sister has no idea how much the house will cost, but knowing its location overlooking the dene, I’m sure it must be using up a large part of your inheritance.

Two thousand pounds must have seemed a large sum of money, but I wish you had asked my advice before giving any of it away. Now I’m guessing you will have about half of it left, and if you had only stopped to think, that was obviously not what your godmother would have wanted.

How are you getting on with sorting out the house? I would offer to come and help you, but in other people’s eyes that might not seem proper. All I can say is, if in doubt, take the advice of Miss Fontaine’s solicitor. He will be used to dealing with matters like this.

Please write and tell me when you will be coming home – if only to save me from Julie!

Love,

Tony

Kay gripped the letter tightly. She was shaking with rage.
How dare he?
she thought.
How dare he assume that he has the right to scold me about what I’ve done with my money and offer to give me advice about what I should do with the rest of it? And how patronising to say that two thousand pounds must have seemed a lot to me! Me, the poor, ignorant little shop girl who needs to take advice from a grown-up before making any more decisions – that’s what he meant! And that feeble joke about going home to save him from Julie!

When she had calmed down a bit, she did acknowledge guiltily that she ought to have written to him. Or telephoned. In fact, that thought had crossed her mind when she first checked in to Brook Lodge, but she had kept putting it off to another day.

This time she didn’t even put the letter back in its envelope. She stood up and simply crumpled both letter and envelope and threw them on the fire. She watched them burn for a moment and then sat down and dropped her head into her hands. She was sitting like this when the doorbell rang.

‘Hurry up, let me in out of this rain,’ Moira said when Kay opened the door. ‘Quick, let’s go through to the kitchen.’ She held up a shopping bag. ‘I’ve got lunch.’

Kay watched as Moira reached into the bag and took out bread, cheese, cooked ham, a Victoria sponge and a bottle of wine.

‘Nothing fancy, I’m afraid,’ Moira said. ‘I did the best I could with the coupons I’ve got left – and next month’s, too. It pays to be friendly with the shop downstairs.’ She paused and looked at Kay solemnly. ‘I’m really sorry about the way I behaved earlier. Will you forgive me?’

‘There’s no need to apologise. I understand why you were annoyed.’

‘Do you? Good. Then get the table set. We’ll cement our friendship with this bottle of cheap but perfectly drinkable wine.’