by Anne Morice
“Too often for comfort.”
“All her life?”
“I gather not. Just the past few years. And kindly don’t rush to the conclusion that it was being married to me that brought them on. I agree that it would be enough to give anyone a touch of the migraine, but in this case I think it’s banging her head against the jolly old Iron Curtain which has caused the damage.”
“What does she want to do that for? Okay, Eddie, I’ve already been ticked off once today for asking too many questions, so you’re at liberty to shut me up if I’m being tactless.”
“My dear old judge, as though you could! Nothing tactless about it. If Vera could be with us, she’d be delighted to tell you herself. Though it’s just as well she isn’t, I might add. Her English isn’t steaming hot at the best of times and she’s apt to get worked up about those geezers on the other side. Unfortunately for her, she was born in the wrong place, with the wrong name and the wrong-shaped nose, to mention only three.”
“Oh, how rotten! Still, at least she managed to get out?”
“Eventually, she got as far as Israel, which wasn’t quite far enough, as it turned out. She was on her own, which is a situation she finds hard to cope with, being one of life’s clinging vines, and she couldn’t get work there either.”
“What sort of work?”
“Thespian. Treading the b. Whatever it’s called nowadays. Barnstorming is probably the word I’m looking for.”
“You never told me she was an actress, Eddie.”
“Did I not? It must be my innate respectability which makes me shun such words. Or possibly I’m getting senile. You’ll soon learn to take it in your stride. Anyway, we met when I was out there, doing a documentary about co-operative grapefruit or something. I went to the theatre in Tel-Aviv one evening and there, looking very natty with her tray of ice creams, was Vera. Love at first sight. Fortunately, I happened to be wifeless at the time, so happy endings all round. And time for another drink, by the look of things.”
He did not give the slightest hint of having married Vera principally in order to provide her with a British passport, but I dare say senility was to blame for this omission too.
“So she’s all right now?” I asked, when he had returned with fresh supplies from the bar.
“Well, if you can call cooking and scrubbing for an old codger like me being all right, yes, I suppose she is. And she’s found some faith healer or guru, or some such rascal, who operates from the Cromwell Road. She swears he’s doing her migraine good, but I doubt if the nasty thing will go right away until she gets some better news about her family. We’re working on that, but I doubt if I’ll be alive to see the day. And how are you, love of my life? Pecker up? Mustn’t grumble?”
“No, I mustn’t grumble.”
“Splendid! And what about that copper you turned me down for? Robin something or other. Know the one I mean?”
“Yes, and he mustn’t grumble either. I’ll tell you one who might legitimately grumble though, and that’s Connie Bland.”
“Ah! Pecker definitely on the dip, you’d say?”
“Didn’t you notice how groggy she was looking?”
“I did, and the phenomenal thing was the speed with which it hit her. There she was, laying down the law and telling us all how wrong we were, just like her merry old self, and the next minute wham; her eyes were starting out of her head and she looked as though she had bitten into a live frog.”
I was momentarily diverted by this description which brought a teasing memory of Hattie’s picture. I was almost certain there had been a frog or a toad among her weird collection and I now began to plague myself by trying to attach a face to it. It was no use though and I returned my attention to Eddie, who now wore the hurt expression of one who had just made a joke and watched it sink like a stone.
“Sorry, Eddie, I was wandering. What did you say?”
“At your age! No, never mind, and the fact is that one shouldn’t be flip about it because it strikes me that dear old Con could be for the high jump. Must be almost as old as I am, after all.”
“No, you’ll always be young. And what makes you think it’s so serious?”
“Something Billy let fall. He asked me how I thought she was looking and I said: ‘Oh, fit as a fiddle’ and all the rest of it, as one does on these occasions, at which he hung his head and muttered grave words. I got the impression he was worried.”
“So presumably this wasn’t the first time she’s had one of these turns? It raises an interesting question, doesn’t it, though, Eddie?”
“If you say so, old girl, you being the arch-priestess when it comes to the raising of interesting questions.”
“Is a practising physician allowed to treat his own wife?”
“The interesting answer comes down heavily in the negative. I am sure it would be frowned upon by the B.M.A. His name would be mud, if not worse. In theory, that is. I dare say some chatty enquiries re the headache and indigestion are tossed to and fro across the breakfast table. Irresistible, wouldn’t you say? Like being married to a plumber and not being able to call on him to give a hand with changing the washer. I dare say even that chap Robin comes to the aid of the party from time to time. I expect if you were honest you’d admit that was your only reason for marrying him instead of me.”
“Because he’s so good at changing the washers?”
“Come off it, dear old fathead! I refer to a whisper that has come to my ears about your running a sideline these days in the amateur detective business. True?”
“If you say so, Eddie. Who whispered it?”
“Oh, I still get around in one or two high places, you know, even on these creaking old pins. Is it true?”
“Sort of, but for goodness’ sake don’t say a word to Connie. I am sure she wouldn’t regard it as at all a suitable occupation for one of her ex-pupils. Anyway, all this talk of Robin has reminded me that I’m expecting a call from him, so I must hurry away and station myself by the telephone. Thanks for the drink and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ten-thirty sharp, as ever will be.”
“Oh, and give Vera my love and say how sorry I am.”
“I’ll do that, my angel, but she’ll be as fit as a flea in the morning and all set to take her place beside us on the bench, don’t you worry.”
“Oh, good!” I said, that being the last thing I was worried about.
The lights were on in the attics of Queen Anne House, as it was so appropriately named, indicating that Tina had returned earlier than expected. There were also some chinks of light on the ground floor, but a thick wedge of black in the middle of this sandwich, the first and second floors evidently being currently unoccupied.
As I walked up the short path from the gate on to the High Street, where the white Rover was parked, I saw a woman letting herself out by the front door in a somewhat stealthy manner and closing it silently behind her, and I concluded that she was a late patient. So many of Billy’s late patients were women and stealth was their middle name. Nor was I knocked out with astonishment, on coming face to face with this one under the porch lamp, to find that she had the round, staring, slightly inimical eyes of a cat.
“Sorry, but the surgery’s closed now,” she said in a distinctly hostile voice.
“No matter, I have my own keys,” I informed her.
“Excuse me, but you must be mistaken. This is private property. You’ve obviously come to the wrong house. If you tell me who you’re looking for I may be able to help you.”
“I am looking for my friend, Tina Blundell,” I said, bringing out the keyring with a flourish and then pivoting round her to unlock the front door. “And I don’t need any help at all, thanks all the same.”
“And cats have claws,” I reminded myself, as I plodded up the three flights of stairs to the top flat.
(2)
“So if I’m not to call you Teeny any more,” I said, digging into the sausage and scrambled egg which she had been cooking when I let myself into th
e flat, “what am I supposed to call you? Not Miss Blundell, by any chance?”
“You can call me anything you damn well please, just so long as you don’t go bawling it out in front of the girls.”
“I bet they call you Teeny behind your back.”
“I bet they do too, and worse things than that, no doubt. The point is that I find it hard enough to maintain my authority as it is, without having you at my elbow to undermine it still further. Besides, it’s the kind of thing which infuriates Madam. She can’t abide what she calls these silly, affected pet names.”
“Ha! Bit bolshy, is she?”
“You could put it like that, I suppose, but who cares? The important thing is that she knows her job backwards, forwards and sideways, and if she is able to inject a little dose of democracy into out maternal dictatorship, well, so much the better is what I say.”
“Although I don’t imagine Connie Bland has much trouble keeping her in her place?”
“It comes naturally with her. She was born with the iron hand in the spiked glove. Is that your only question for this evening?”
“By no means. I have a whole string of them lined up for you.”
“Like what, for instance?”
“Like, let us say, for instance, how long has this thing been going on with your democratic Madam and your paternal dictator, Billy Bland? What’s her real name, by the way?”
“That’s two questions.”
“Take them in whichever order you prefer.”
“Her name is Janet Haynes.”
“And?”
For a moment I thought Tina was going to come the innocent, but after a slight pause she said:
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you how long it’s been going on. Unlike you, it usually takes me more than a couple of hours to unravel these secrets.”
“But you have known about it for some time?”
“A month or two, I suppose. They’ve taken to meeting downstairs in the surgery just recently; ever since the flat below this one became vacant, in fact. The first floor is used as offices and showroom by an interior decorator, so that’s always safe outside business hours.”
“And is it now common knowledge? Bandied about in the dormitories and so forth?”
“I wouldn’t have said so. On the whole, they’re fairly discreet. It’s just that living here means that I’ve had it rather forced on my attention. Even so, I doubt if I’d have caught on if I hadn’t run into her in the hall one evening and, instead of behaving normally, she lost her head and spun some yarn about having run out of sleeping pills, as though it was necessary to give an excuse for being there. Since then I have to confess that I’ve been slightly more alert.”
“Do you suppose Connie knows?”
“Couldn’t tell you. Sometimes I think Connie only knows what it suits her to know.”
“I call that a most profound observation, Teeny, and well worthy of you. The fact is, it might suit her very well to know all about this and to turn a blind eye.”
“Why might it?”
“Because her eyes may be small, but they’re very wide open and I doubt if she nursed any illusions about being pretty or attractive, even in her youth. On the other hand, innumerable women have found the dear doctor ravishingly pretty and attractive. Realising what an old philanderer he was, she may well have decided that the only way to hang on to him was to let it ride. Like most easy-going people, he’s not the type to suffer rows and nagging gladly and so, stuck with that situation, it could obviously suit her better to have him philandering with one of her own employees, where she could keep an eye on things and, if necessary, apply the occasional brake. So how’s that for an analysis of life in the Bland boudoir?”
“Quite good. I had come to roughly the same conclusion myself.”
“And Janet is not married, I take it?”
“Divorced. She and her husband used to be joint owners of some ballet school in London. It was when they split up that she took the job here.”
“Why here, I wonder?”
“Why not?”
“Oh, come on, Teeny! Feet like yours can soon work that one out.”
“I’m not sure I can be bothered to. Do you want the last sausage?”
“Why don’t we share it?”
“Well, we seem to have thrashed out that subject pretty thoroughly,” I went on, when she had completed the delicate operation on the sausage, “so let’s move on to the next one. Tell me about Hattie?”
This time there was no gurgle of laughter and she put her fork down and regarded me with a mixture of amazement and displeasure.
“Honestly, Tessa, you really take the bun, I have to admit it. You arrived here this afternoon at what time was it? Half past four? And already you’ve uncovered enough to be curious about Hattie. What’s the secret?”
“I arrived at ten past four, as it happens and, funnily enough, that’s the secret. Explain, though: what’s Hecuba to Hattie?”
“I’m not sure I can. She’s quite an enigma, our Hat. A compulsive eater and grossly overweight, for a start. Two things which wouldn’t normally be tolerated at Waterside, and Madam practically has apoplexy if her name is mentioned. It’s not as though she were particularly bright either. She was bludgeoned into taking three O levels last year and she didn’t get so much as a pass-mark in one of them. And yet, and yet . . .”
“She does have other talents?”
“So you know about that too, do you? I might have guessed! Well, it’s true that her drawings are rather clever and original. Some of them were accepted for the County Exhibition and she won a special award, which sent her soaring even higher in Connie’s estimation, but I still wouldn’t have thought it warranted all the special privileges she gets.”
“I gather her father is a biggish wig?”
“And stinking rich with it. I dare say that’s the whole boring answer; and yet sometimes I feel there must be more to it than that. If it wasn’t so patently absurd, you could almost believe that she had some kind of hold over Connie. She really gets away with murder, that girl.”
“Last question coming up,” I said, as we sloshed our way through the washing up. “This afternoon at the tea party you said something about having a rather brilliant student this year, but there was a sad story attached to it. What was all that about?”
“Proving that no stray remark is too stray for you to train your microscope on? Actually, it’s the reverse side of the Hattie coin, the girl who can do no right. So far as Connie is concerned, that is. She’s called Belinda Jameson and simply bursting with talent. I’m not sure she’ll ever make it as a classical dancer, but she’s a marvellous all-rounder. Good singing voice too. Only sixteen, but in the opinion of myself and various other people too numerous to name she has real star quality. And she works like a demon, what’s more. I’ve often caught her plugging away, on her own, in the studio long after the practice session was officially over. One more year here and she’d be all set to go right to the top.”
“No heartbreaks in this story, so far.”
“No, but here’s where they start. She won’t get the chance of one more year. She leaves at the end of this term.”
“Moving on to higher things?”
“On the contrary; moving on to the scrap heap. She’s being chucked out because she can no longer afford the fees. Her father’s business went bust a couple of years ago and he shot himself.”
“How rotten! And you mean Connie demands her pound of flesh, even in circumstances like that and even though she’s got such a winner on her hands? That surprises me. I know she’s ruthless, but she’s canny too and I’d have thought this girl would have been a good enough advertisement to make it worth while keeping her on free of charge.”
“So would I, so would anyone in their senses, but Connie loses hers when it comes to hard cash. And furthermore the father was self-made, from one of the lower social drawers, which makes Belinda doubly guilty in her eyes.”
“You’d bette
r get hold of her home address and let me have it some time.”
“What for?”
“Believe it or not, Teeny, I do have a few strings to pull in certain quarters and there may be some auditions coming up.”
“Oh I see! Well, personally, I think she’d do far better to stay on here and finish her training, but if you think you can help, I suppose a job wouldn’t be such a bad alternative. Thanks.”
“I can at least try. How did you hear about all this?”
“Belinda told me herself. She’s miserable about it, poor child. Sees her whole career going down the drain before it’s even begun. I also happen to know that Madam tried to intercede for her. Suggested they could get round the problem by everyone chipping in to set up some kind of scholarship, but Connie wouldn’t even listen. Quite apart from the monstrous inhumanity, the sickening waste of it maddens me. Honestly, one feels like throttling that woman sometimes,” Tina said, swilling out the washing-up bowl with great gusto and grimness. “And now, Tessa, I hope that really was your last question. I don’t know about you, but personally I’m whacked and I have to clock in at eight-thirty to-morrow morning.”
She was right, as usual, and hardly finished speaking before I became engulfed in yawns. Two minutes after climbing into bed I fell asleep and at some point during the subsequent eight hours had a most prophetic dream. I was floating along past row after row of disembodied faces, some beautiful, others hideous and deformed. There was no sound, but they were all mouthing at me and after a while I found myself able to lip read. Every one of them was repeating over and over again:
“Constance is dead, Constance is dead.”
FIVE
There were two entrances to the Waterside auditorium. The official one was by way of the foyer, which opened off the central stable block, and at right angles to this was another set of externally identical buildings which had been converted into garages and now housed the art exhibition. The unofficial way was through one of the sliding glass doors which covered the theatre’s entire length on its right-hand side and which were approached from the gardens of The Lodge. Black curtains were pulled across these doors during performances, but at other times they were left open, to enable the audience to stroll about outside.
