Ellie (69 page)

Ellie liked Ray on sight. He had an open face and a straightforward, self-deprecating way of speaking which suggested he had a good sense of humour.

‘Take this,’ he said, handing her a couple of pages of a script. ‘Read it through and get the gist of it. I don’t expect you to learn it word for word. Let’s face it, we all know the story-line anyway. For now all I want to see is whether you can be a believable prince. I’ve just got to pop out for ten minutes. Sylvia who’s playing Cinderella will acquaint you with my ideas.’

Sylvia was another very pleasing surprise. Ellie felt she’d be the perfect partner. She was a small, quite plain girl of twenty-two with long mousy hair, but her blue eyes were warm and friendly and she grinned engagingly at Ellie as if delighted to meet her.

‘I loathed Delia Merchant, the original prince,’ she said without any hesitation, leading Ellie up on to the stage. It was bare aside from a few steps at the back; the scenery was still being painted elsewhere in the theatre. There were no spotlights switched on, just a couple of dim bulbs hanging above. ‘We’re all cheesed off with being left in the lurch halfway through rehearsals. You look nice, Ellie, I hope we can be friends too. So let’s get stuck into this and get it all tied up.’

The part of the story they were to run through was the ballroom scene as the clock strikes twelve and Cinderella runs away, leaving her glass slipper behind. Sylvia explained that the entire cast would normally be on the stage but that they’d all gone home for the afternoon.

‘Ray will play a waltz for us when he comes back,’ she said. ‘We have to dance, looking into each other’s eyes as if we’re falling in love, and try not to giggle. He’ll bang on a gong for the striking clock, then I’ll be off, leaving one of my size fours on the steps. Don’t forget you’re supposed to be a man, big strides and all that. When you speak your lines, aim them at the gallery, don’t look down at Ray.’

Ellie scanned through the script and ran through it a couple of times with Sylvia, then Ray appeared and sat down at the piano.

‘Right, girls!’ he shouted up at them. ‘From the beginning of the waltz.’

It was good to act again. Ellie shut out the empty theatre, the bare stage and the lack of atmosphere. As she took Sylvia into her arms she imagined the smaller girl in a hooped ballgown, herself in a prince’s satin tunic with buckle shoes and tights, and drifted away with the music, gazing into Cinderella’s eyes.

The gong boomed out. Cinderella stiffened, gasped in horror, then broke away from Ellie’s arms, fleeing up the wooden steps at the back of the stage. By now, Ellie had almost forgotten Ray was sitting at the piano. She was a man in love, stunned by losing her partner so unexpectedly. She strode over to the dropped slipper, picked it up and turned to the invisible audience.

‘Search my kingdom for the owner of this glass slipper,’ she commanded. ‘Every castle, every house, every cottage. I will not rest until you find my love. The girl whose tiny foot fits this slipper will be my wife.’

There was a moment’s silence, then Ray clapped down in the orchestra pit. ‘Bravo,’ he called out. ‘You’re a natural prince, Ellie. Now let’s just run through a couple of the songs, shall we?’

It was after six by the time Ellie left the theatre to go back to her digs in Catford to pack. She was due to start rehearsals at ten the following morning and Ray had promised to get her fixed up in the same digs as Sylvia.

‘I hope you’ll be happy with us,’ he said as he saw her out. ‘The pantomime’s due to run until the end of February; that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other better.’

On the journey back to Catford, Ellie thought about Ray Kennedy and smiled happily. Things were looking up. She had a leading role, with the chance to let her career take a slightly new direction. Hampstead was one of the nicest parts of London, and she was free for once to make new friends, away from the often intolerable pressures Bonny put her under. But above all, she had a feeling Ray would be important in her life.

It was a long time since she’d met any man who really interested her. But as Ray spoke she had felt a faint tingle of something special, just the way she had with Charley. He was a little like Charley, now she came to think about it; not just his curly hair, but that openness, the curiosity mixed with eagerness. Maybe she was a bit impudent in imagining a producer could be tempted into a relationship with a relatively inexperienced actress, but it was cheering to find she was capable of thinking of something other than just work.

‘Ellie, you’re marvellous!’ Ray called out from the orchestra pit. ‘Let’s just run through the scene with the ugly sisters one more time. Let the audience see you pulling faces as they try to force the slipper on, and don’t be afraid to ham it up a bit more, that’s what panto’s all about.’

Ellie had been in rehearsal for five days now and she didn’t think she’d ever enjoyed herself so much. She couldn’t wait for opening night on Friday. Her satin and brocade costumes suited her admirably, even if close up they were old and patched. She liked every single member of the cast. Monty and Charles, the ugly sisters, had her in stitches all the time. They were a pair of old comics from music hall and she remembered going with Marleen to see them in the Mile End Road when she was eight or nine. They’d spent the war years with ENSA and their stories of those days were hilarious. As for Sylvia, she was fast becoming a very good friend. After all the tumult Bonny created in her wake, it was good to be with someone gentler. Sylvia was uncomplicated, generous and warm-hearted and she wasn’t always out to hog the limelight.

‘Knock it on the head now,’ Ray called out after they’d repeated the scene. ‘Be here at ten tomorrow morning for a complete run-through. Then a full dress rehearsal in the afternoon. Ellie, stay behind a moment please.’

Ellie jumped down off the stage into the front of the house. Ray was leafing through some music on the piano. He turned and smiled at her.

Her feelings that Ray was interested in her as a woman rather than just an actress had grown even stronger in the last couple of days. He seemed to go out of his way to talk to her alone. Yesterday he’d kept her back to run through one scene which she knew didn’t really call for such personal coaching. They’d had a cup of tea later in his office and talked for over an hour. He’d encouraged her to tell him a great deal about her past and in turn he’d revealed quite a lot about himself.

He was one of four children and his family home was in Orpington in Kent. Ellie surmised, though he hadn’t actually said so, that his parents were middle-class and comfortably off. He said he went to grammar school, then on to RADA, but being called up into the army had halted his acting career. During his time in the army, which he laughingly admitted was mainly spent in the stores, he’d been responsible for putting on a few shows. When he was demobbed he came back to London looking for work and the only job he could get was as under-stage-manager in the Haymarket Theatre. After a year there, doing little more than painting scenery and finding props, he got the opportunity to stand in as temporary stage-manager here in Hampstead, while the man who’d had the job before underwent a serious operation. The Little Theatre was struggling to keep going. Ray brought with him new enthusiasm and some good ideas, and when the previous stage-manager found he couldn’t return, Ray was offered the permanent job.

‘I flannelled my way into becoming producer,’ he laughed. ‘I had a great many contacts with decent actors and actresses and I was prepared to do anything to put bottoms on the seats. The owners let me have a free hand for a while to see if I could pull things into shape and I managed it, somehow. But I haven’t got any illusions about my ability. I’m just good at motivating others, and I’ve got an eye for embryo talent. Luckily, aside from the panto season, we put on a different play once a fortnight, so if one is awful there’s always the next one. I’ve got quite smart about what the Hampstead crowd want to see, keep them entertained and they come back for each new production.’

Ellie thought Ray underestimated his talent. He was far more professional and creative than any other producers she’d worked with. He got the best out of his cast, he appreciated their talent, he knew when to sit back and let them ad-lib, when to crack down and stick to the script, and he had a knack of drawing out excellent performances.

‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Ray asked now, sitting down on the piano stool.

‘Very much,’ Ellie grinned. She couldn’t remember any other producer asking such a thing. If anything most of them seemed to prefer their cast cowed and miserable. She wondered what he actually wanted her for; the relaxed way he was just sitting there implied he’d just called her for a chat.

He was such a nice man. She liked his scruffy clothes, that broken tooth and his wide, warm smile. But most of all she liked his joyful nature. After being used to grouchy performers who thought the whole world was pitted against them it was a tonic to meet someone who could laugh off disappointments and look forward to each day with enthusiasm.

‘I love pantomime,’ he said, looking faintly sheepish. ‘My ambition was to become one of the “
great
” film producers, but I seem to be getting side-tracked by comedy plays, musicals and pantomimes.’

‘My ambition is still to be a “
great
” musical comedy star,’ she laughed. ‘But I don’t mind being side-tracked too much if it’s like this.’

‘You’ll get there,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘Now you’ve got people watching over you.’

Ellie smirked. She thought he meant him. ‘You’re going to produce a musical comedy, then? With me as the star?’

‘I wish I could get the chance,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘No, I meant the bigwig behind Bloomfield’s.’

‘What! Harry Bloomfield?’ Ellie was puzzled. ‘He isn’t the least bit interested in me.’

‘Not him, he’s just the front man.’ Ray frowned, looking at her as if she were slow. ‘I’m talking about Sir Miles Hamilton. You must know it was him who suggested you for this part?’

Ellie could only stare blankly. She felt as if she were surrounded by thick fog, Ray’s voice coming from somewhere distant.

‘You do know who I’m talking about, don’t you?’ Ray’s voice continued. ‘Ellie! What’s up? You’ve gone as white as a sheet!’

Ellie groped for a seat, pulled it down and flopped on to it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I felt a bit funny for a moment. I met Sir Miles Hamilton once at a party. He put me on to Bloomfield’s, but I didn’t know he had anything to do with it.’

‘He’s one of Bloomfield’s directors.’ Ray looked hard at Ellie wondering why she should be so shocked by this news. ‘He’s got fingers in all sorts of pies in the entertainment business. Anyway, he’s seen you perform on several occasions. Harry Bloomfield told me this when he made the suggestion I saw you for this part. I wouldn’t mind betting Sir Miles will be coming on opening night to see how you’re shaping up.’

Ellie couldn’t think of anything to say to this.

‘Well, you might look a bit happier about it,’ Ray said, laughter in his voice. ‘I’d be grinning like a cheshire cat if I was in your shoes. I hope you can raise a bit more enthusiasm for my next shot.’

‘What’s that?’ Ellie said suspiciously.

‘I hoped you might have supper with me tonight.’

Ellie hesitated; she was still floored by the piece of news about Sir Miles.

Ray sighed. ‘I suppose you’ve got a boyfriend?’

‘No, it’s not that.’ She looked down at her feet, suddenly acutely embarrassed.

Ray reached out and tilted her chin up with one finger. He was smiling. ‘I’ll be honest,’ he said, teeth glinting in the gloom of the darkened theatre. ‘I’ve had this terrible, overwhelming desire to kiss you since the first day you came here. And I’ve had the oddest feeling it might be the same for you too. We aren’t in the line of work where people are going to be around for ever, Ellie. So couldn’t we have a stab at a bit of romancing, while we’ve got the chance?’

Ellie had heard many opening lines from men over the years, but this one made her tingle. She did want him to kiss her.

She gave it only the briefest second’s thought. So what if he was the producer, or that people would talk. She liked him and life was too hard and short not to take chances. ‘That’s the most honest approach I’ve ever heard,’ she laughed. ‘Okay, supper tonight.’

‘You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve met in a long time,’ he said, grinning impishly. ‘Very direct, funny and warm, yet I get this feeling there’s an awful lot of different activity going on beneath the surface.’

‘Like a duck’s feet?’ she laughed.

‘I wouldn’t like to liken anything about you to duck’s feet,’ he said. ‘But you’d better toddle home to change. I’ll pick you up at your digs at seven.’

*

‘Happy birthday, Ellie.’ Ray pulled the cork out of the bottle and filled up her glass. ‘It ought to be real champagne for your twenty-first, but funds wouldn’t run to that. At least this is a reasonable imitation.’

It was January 22nd, her twenty-first birthday, and they were in Ray’s small, cluttered bachelor flat in Fitzjohn’s Avenue, the wide road which led down from Hampstead Village towards Swiss Cottage. All the houses in the road were huge, many of them very dilapidated as it was many years since they’d been purely family homes. Number 25, where Ray lived, was a rabbit warren of small flats and bedsitters. Practically all the tenants were ‘arty’ types, even the two old ladies who lived on the ground floor.

Ellie had been here only twice before, both times during the afternoon, when she’d been appalled by its squalor. It was just one large room on the first floor with a small kitchen adjoining, and the bathroom was shared by all the other tenants in the house, up another flight of stairs. It was warm and cosy tonight, though: the shutters were closed over the windows, Ray had lit the fire earlier in the evening and now, in candle-light, with the bed made and covered by a thick quilt and all the unwashed dishes and dirty washing cleared away, it looked inviting enough to make her want to stay.

It had been the best month of her life. All the good feelings she’d had right from the day of the audition had been justified. So it was only a pantomime, but all the seats had been sold every night so far, and the local press had praised it to the skies. Her digs in Savernake Road overlooking the heath were among the best she’d ever had, with quite good food, constant hot water and even an electric fire in the room she shared with Sylvia. Quite often they giggled the night away as if they’d known each other from childhood, making toast on the fire and drinking cocoa. All the cast were fun, especially Norman Bounds, who played Dandini. He made no secret of being homosexual, but minced about claiming he was an ‘old tart’, and he often came into Ellie’s, and Sylvia’s room late at night for a bit of girlie chatter. At Christmas he’d bought them each a lovely pair of satin knickers, saying he wished he dared wear them himself!