The Very Thought of You (19 page)

‘We'll get on with it without him,' said Robert, and in a lowered voice muttered, ‘It's your own fault. You've allowed him too much leeway.'

Afterwards, they mingled with the patients and staff, Della chatting to Dr O'Brien most of the time.

‘I'm on leave in Bayeux at the end of the week,' he said. ‘I'll come and see your show, and,' he added shyly, ‘we could go out for a meal afterwards, if you'd like to.'

‘I'd love to,' she said, and smiled.

Frances went over to the blind patient, Lieutenant Strange. She touched his arm and he moved his head towards her. ‘Did you enjoy the show?' she asked.

‘It was brilliant,' he answered, shuffling off his bed and standing up. ‘I loved it. Which one are you?'

‘I'm Frances Parnell,' she said. ‘I sang with the other two girls at the end of the show. I'm the administrator, really.'

He put out his hand for her to shake. ‘How d'you do?' he said. ‘Felix Strange.' Then, ‘Parnell?'

‘Yes.'

‘You're not related to Hugo Parnell, by any chance?' He chuckled. ‘No, ignore me. I'm so desperate to hear about people back home, you see. And that would be too much of a coincidence.'

‘Hugo's my brother. However d'you know him?' Frances found that she was still clutching Lieutenant Strange's hand.

‘If it's the same Hugo Parnell, he was a couple of years ahead of me at school. He was my head of house.'

‘Oh!' Frances gasped. ‘How amazing. But then you must know Beau. Beau Bennett, our leader.'

‘I got that he was a Bennett,' he said. He was quite animated now. ‘Dr O'Brien introduced him as Major Bennett.'

‘Well, it's Beau,' laughed Frances, ‘and what's more, Robert Lennox is here too. He's acting as our liaison officer.'

There was a pause, and then to her dismay, Felix Strange's shoulders began to shake and he sat down heavily on his bed and put a hand up to his bandaged eyes. ‘Oh God. I don't want them to see me like this,' he muttered.

Frances sat beside him. ‘Listen to me,' she said in her no-nonsense manner. ‘Beau has a badly damaged leg and he's barely able to walk. Hugo is a prisoner of war in the Far East and I haven't heard from him for a year. Robert is uninjured, but he's sad … I don't know what's happened to him. Johnny Petersham, d'you remember him? Well' – she swallowed the lump in her throat – ‘he was killed at Dunkirk.'

He was silent, sitting on his bed, and she took his hand. ‘Felix,' she said, ‘remember that you're absolutely not alone. The war has taken its toll on everyone, us girls too. We're all affected.' She got up. ‘Now, I'm going to bring Beau and Robert over. They'll want to meet you.'

She left him then and looked around for Beau and Robert. She spotted them, walking towards the door, both their faces closed and angry. They've been rowing again, she thought, as she hurried after them, and I know what about.

‘You have to come and meet Lieutenant Strange,' she said, running to stand in front of them. ‘He was at school with you – Felix Strange, in your house.'

‘I remember him,' said Robert. ‘He played the piano, rather well.'

‘Well, he's in there' – she jerked her head back to the tent – ‘and blind. He needs some reassurance.'

‘We haven't time,' Beau said, scowling. He was clearly still furious. ‘We've got to get back to Bayeux.'

‘Two minutes,' Frances pleaded. ‘It would cheer him up.'

‘I'll go,' said Robert, and turned back to the tent. After a minute, Beau limped after him, and Frances, joining Catherine by the piano, where she was signing autographs, was relieved to see Felix Strange's face break into a smile when Robert took his hand and introduced himself.

‘Robert is such a good man,' she said to Catherine when they were in the lorry on the way back to Bayeux.

‘I know,' her friend murmured. ‘I do know.'

The week in Bayeux was hugely successful, and despite the war waging only about twenty miles away, they played to full houses. For Catherine, it was a revelation. Previously, she'd performed at nightclubs and grand hotels, with the occasional foray into radio, but she'd never been a theatre star. Now she embraced it wholeheartedly and enjoyed the excitement and noisy audiences as much as Della did.

‘Wow,' said Della, as she came off stage after their last performance. ‘It's been absolutely fantastic.'

‘It has,' laughed Catherine, joining in the general backstage exhilaration. ‘Who'd have thought it?'

When the lights finally dimmed and they had all quietened down, Beau called for a meeting. They sat, still in their performance costumes, on the dusty boards of the stage.

‘Listen,' he said. ‘We've been asked to go further inland. This side of the front, of course, but we'll be closer to the action.'

The company looked at each other. It sounded dangerous.

‘I can understand completely that this isn't what most of you signed up for. I mean, factories and dockyards back home are one thing, but being at the front is different. So if anyone wants to leave, it'll be no reflection on them. We are, after all, performers, not soldiers.'

Tommy broke the silence. ‘I'm up for it,' he said. ‘I'll even hold a gun, if necessary.'

Beau grinned. It was a rare sight these days, him being happy. Since they'd been in France, he'd seemed to be more troubled than before, not only with his leg but angry about something else. Frances knew it was Eric Baxter who was the cause of much of Beau's aggravation and she quickly looked around to see what his reaction to the news might be. As she'd half expected, he wasn't there.

‘I don't think they'll let you touch a gun, Tommy,' Beau said. ‘Your hands are much more valuable on the keyboard. But you'd better bring your guitar. I don't know where they'll have a piano.' He paused and glanced about rather nervously. ‘What about the rest of you?'

‘Of course we'll come,' Godfrey boomed. ‘Wouldn't miss it for a fortune. Girls too?'

The three girls nodded. ‘You bet,' said Della, looking at her friends. ‘Playing to hordes of frustrated men! What could be better?'

‘Good.' Beau looked relieved. ‘Now, you've got the day off tomorrow and then the escort will come for us eight o'clock sharp, Monday morning, outside the hotel.' He glanced at Frances. ‘Sorry, Fran, although we can use the bus, the army has decided that they want a couple of soldier drivers as well as the escort. But it will be more comfortable than a lorry. So pack up your bags because we probably won't be coming back here, and make sure you've got your tin hats.' He looked around, waiting, Catherine thought, for any objections, but there were none forthcoming. ‘Good,' he said. ‘Now, I've got some things to do, so I'll see you all Monday morning.'

After he'd gone, the company sat for a moment looking at each other and grinning at the prospect of performing on the front line. Despite it being dangerous, it was tremendously exciting, and absolutely what they'd come for.

Tommy held up his hand. ‘Before we go … to get a drink, which is what we've been looking forward to' – everyone laughed – ‘there's something we have to talk about.'

‘Baxter,' snorted Della. ‘That's who we have to talk about.'

‘Aye,' Colin nodded. ‘How long do we have to put up with yon bastard?'

‘He has to go,' boomed Godfrey. ‘The man's a charlatan.'

‘Look,' Davey said, ‘he's trouble. He always has been. I could tell you stories about him that would make your hair curl.'

The others were intrigued. Della begged him to say what the stories were, but he wouldn't.

‘Trust me. He's a bastard. He'll drag you down,' was all he said.

‘Are we agreed, then?' Tommy sought nodding assent from the company, and then, getting it, he turned to Frances. ‘You're closest to Beau. You must tell him what we've decided.'

‘Oh.' Frances looked so appalled that Catherine reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘God,' Frances groaned. ‘Surely it would be better if one of you men told him, or even Robert Lennox.' She looked around for him, but he'd already gone. ‘Alright,' she sighed. ‘I'll do what I can.'

With that, they got up and went to change before going out to the big hotel, which was their usual after-show haunt. It was packed. British, Canadian and American officers filled the bar area, and those of them who had seen the show whooped and cheered when the members of the Bennett Players came in.

‘Jolly good show, little lady,' beamed the elderly major whom they'd met in the officers' mess.

‘Thank you,' said Catherine, smiling, but she was still put off by the similarity between his voice and that of Captain Fortescue.

A glass of red wine was put into her hand and she turned her head to see Robert standing beside her. ‘I thought you'd like this as a change from gin,' he said. ‘It's not bad.'

He looked more relaxed this evening. The intense frown that was usually in place had gone, as though something that had been worrying him had melted away. ‘How about dinner? We could go to the officers' mess, or there is a cafe in one of the streets at the back of the cathedral that does pretty good food, considering …'

‘Yes.' Catherine smiled quickly. ‘I'd prefer that.' The thought of spending time alone with him was exciting, and although part of her brain told her that it was disloyal to Christopher, she remembered that she'd decided to move on. She turned to tell Della that she was going, but was stopped by Della giving a yell of ‘Hello' to Dr O'Brien, who was working his way towards them through the noisy crowd at the bar.

‘I saw the show,' he grinned. ‘You were all wonderful, 'specially you, Miss Stafford.' This last came out a little breathlessly and he blushed. ‘I mean … yes, you were all wonderful.'

‘Idiot,' laughed Della. ‘Have a drink and, for God's sake, tell me your name. I can't keep calling you “Doctor”, and you can drop the “Miss Stafford” nonsense and call me “Della”.'

‘Timothy O'Brien … Tim, that's what my friends call me.'

‘Well, Tim,' said Della, grabbing him by the arm, ‘let's go to the bar, find another drink and you can tell me all about yourself.'

‘Wait, Della.' Catherine smiled at Tim O'Brien. ‘I was just going to tell you that Robert and I are going to get some dinner.' She glanced quickly at Robert before adding, ‘Come with us, if you like.' He didn't look particularly pleased but nodded politely.

‘Oh,' said Della. ‘I don't know. What d'you think, Tim?'

‘Now wouldn't that be grand,' he beamed, ‘but I have Lieutenant Strange with me. You know, the man who's been blinded. I'm escorting him to hospital in England. Normally they travel in the ambulances, but as I'm going back for a couple of days to sit my fellowship exam, I thought …' He looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Well, I thought it would make him feel more normal.'

‘You're an old softie,' grinned Della. She looked around. ‘Where is he?'

‘Oh, he's in the officers' mess. He's not well enough to have fought through the crowds at the theatre, but' – he looked at Robert and Catherine – ‘if you wouldn't mind, I'm sure he'd enjoy a meal out.'

Frances, drink in hand, emerged from the braying throng at the bar. She'd been with Beau, Catherine thought, and she looked angry. It wasn't difficult to guess that Beau had rejected their request.

‘Did you tell him?' Catherine asked anxiously. ‘Did you tell him what we said?'

‘I did,' said Frances. She shook her head slowly. ‘He wouldn't have it. He said we were exaggerating and that Eric was a good act. I told him that the company loathed him and he was poisoning the atmosphere, but' – she shrugged – ‘it made no difference. Beau is adamant. Baxter stays. In fact, he said that if anyone refused to work with him, then they could go home.'

‘But you told him what Davey said?' Della demanded.

Frances nodded. ‘Yes.'

Tim O'Brien glanced from one of the girls to the other, patently confused about what was going on, and looked to Robert for an explanation. But he said nothing and had a still, rather menacing expression on his face.

Della and Catherine looked at each other, and then Della said, ‘What's the matter with Beau, anyway?' She shook her head. ‘It's as if he's scared.'

‘Remember when we saw him giving Eric money?' whispered Frances. ‘D'you think it could be blackm—'

‘You'd better stop right there,' Robert butted in, causing Catherine and Frances to stare at him with astonishment.

Della snorted with fury. ‘But—' she spat.

He turned his head to look at her. ‘No “but”s.' His voice sounded as though it was sliding over ice. ‘You're treading on dangerous ground, Miss Stafford.'

She opened her mouth to say more, but before the words came out, Robert said, ‘End of discussion, I think.' Then, as suddenly as the edge of steel had appeared, it melted away. He smiled and took Catherine's arm. ‘I'm hungry. Let's get some food.'

As they were walking through the hotel lobby, Frances felt a hand on her arm. She turned and, to her surprise, saw that it was Davey.

‘Can I have a quick word?' he asked.

‘Er … yes, of course,' she answered, and called to the others, who were looking back, ‘Carry on. I'll catch you up.' Then, turning to Davey, she said, ‘What can I do for you? Is it about your act?'

‘No.' He looked around, checking the people in the lobby. She looked too, wondering whom he was concerned about.

‘What is it? Tell me.'

‘Have you spoken to Beau yet, about Baxter?'

‘Yes. I have.' She sighed. ‘Nothing doing, I'm afraid.'