by Ruth Hay
Anyway, she was gone now and it had only become real a few minutes ago when the train left and part of his heart ripped out and disappeared with it.
What was he going to tell his family? The days of pretending Carla was working all hours at the shop and couldn’t come to the pub, the restaurant, the game, the cinema, the party………..those lame excuses had worn so thin his pals didn’t even ask anymore. He thought his Mum and Dad were still fooled but his sister had asked questions in the shop and she knew better.
He would have to face up to it. He had been dumped less than two years into his marriage. How disgustingly feeble was that? What female would ever look at him after such a failure? He knew they would be thinking he was some kind of wuss in the romance department or, worse again, had a sexual problem of some nature. Ugh! He could hardly bear to think about it. In fact, he should not waste time thinking about the reactions of females when he had so many other problems looming.
There were bills to pay. The hire purchase contracts that sounded so good when they signed up with no payment due for twelve months, were now overdue. The posh furniture in the studio flat would have to be returned along with the carpets and the bed and the part-payments already made would be lost.
Arthur had offered to help with this. He was a decent guy but Brad hated to add to his father-in-law’s dodgy financial situation. He still had his sleeping bag from his hiking days in the Yorkshire Dales with his buddies. He would cling on to the tele no matter what. It was going to be the only thing he could afford to do for entertainment for the coming years.
He could just manage the rent on the flat. Thank God he had not let Carla talk him into the garden flat with the lower level exit. The studio rent was half as much. He would hold onto the studio as long as possible. Going back home had not helped Carla and he was pretty sure it would be no help to him either. He had to keep what was left of his pride. Independence was an important part of that.
There was the chance of a better job if he completed an online course in computer studies. It would give him something to do in the winter. Until then, there was an evening job stacking shelves in the grocery store. Didn’t pay much but it would pass the time and he might get some expired-dated bargains from the fresh food counters to keep him fed.
The platform shuddered beneath his feet and he looked up to see trains coming and going in the busy station. He had been so deep in thought he had blotted out the whole scene around him.
He gave himself a mental shake. What was he doing sitting here like a dummy, thinking dark thoughts?
He was a young, fit guy in a big city. Life was not over yet.
And still he could not seem to move. He was stuck to the damned bench. Why?
It finally dawned on him that he was waiting. He was waiting for Carla to come back; to change her mind; to throw herself into his arms and ask forgiveness. This was so ridiculous that he laughed out loud and scared a passing child.
The truth was he had not dealt with his feelings for Carla. Oh, sure, he had a mental grasp of the realities of his situation but he had been avoiding the emotional fallout. This was the part that really scared him.
They had written their vows to each other. They had said those vows in a church in front of family and friends. They had promised to love and cherish, sickness and health, death do us part etc. etc.
He thought it meant something. Something beyond the romantic movies she loved to watch and cry over, something real and solid and honest. Something to build a life on.
In short, he had believed the promises.
He still loved her. In spite of everything, he still loved her.
She was selfish and stubborn and childish and she had never told him how important her dreams were.
Oh, she talked about singing and dancing and she had taken lessons when she was younger but she never said the acting dream was a deal breaker.
Never. Not when they first met waiting outside the hospital to pick up their respective mothers after their shifts. Not when they began to date and opened their hearts to each other. Not when they got serious about being exclusive. Not when they talked of marriage. Not when they walked down the aisle.
Not on their honeymoon when he believed they were set for life.
Never.
Was he really that blind? Were her gorgeous body and her come-hither eyes, all a pretence? Were her kisses a drug to dull his brain? He wanted to say, no. To say he had chosen to ignore any hints of what Carla really wanted, but the awful truth was that he had missed it all. He was as thunderstruck by her decision as her parents seemed to be.
Oh, he could blame her for hour upon hour for dishonesty but it would not change a thing.
Carla was gone. His wife was gone. And the worst part, the bit that racked his heart, was that he would take her back in a heartbeat if she came home again.
So to the final question to be dealt with on this day when his life changed; would she come back?
What were the chances of that happening?
She had made no promises. She had very little experience with modelling, acting, or whatever it was she thought she was cut out for, so it could be that she would be a total failure in London and be back home with her tail between her legs, as they said, in no time at all. It would be a horrible thing for Carla to bear and he did not want to see her suffer like that, but it could happen.
On the other hand, he had never known a girl so determined as Carla. She had this unshakable faith in herself no matter what other people told her was only a fairy tale of success that came true to so few.
She had the looks, all right. Men followed her with their eyes whenever they were out together. He always felt proud to be her husband. Were good looks enough? Wasn’t real talent needed to make it in the films or the theatre these days? What talent did she have that would make her stand out in a crowd? How could Birmingham lad Brad Newbigging be a judge of that anyway?
One thing was for certain sure, she was lucky to get this chance to try. The lack of money that had held her up so far was not a problem any longer from what Corinne had told him. This rich woman in London would look after his Carla and he would just have to be patient and see how it all worked out.
First thing on Thursday morning, Zoe had a conference with Suzanne. Some people might call her assistant a secretary but Zoe knew her real title was P.A. She was an invaluable Personal Assistant who was about to get another assignment to add to the workload she handled every day of the week.
This Carla Carstairs’ assignment was going to be like no other Suzanne had ever been given at Excelsior and Zoe was a little apprehensive.
“She’s about twenty-two, inexperienced, eager, and ready to work hard.”
“She’d better be ready. This schedule is a killer, Miss Morton.”
“I know it. I figure she’ll cope or she’ll quit within the first month. Either way it will be an object lesson for her. She arrives this evening so I want everything to fire up first thing tomorrow morning. I know it’s very short notice, Suzanne, but what have you managed to secure?”
“The appointment with the fashion photographer is set for the afternoon, leaving the morning for dance, voice and movement assessments at The Studio. I had to use your name to get those, Miss Morton. They were not going to cooperate until I reminded them how much free cosmetic product we have contributed to their theatrical productions.”
“That’s excellent news! They will send me a breakdown of her possibilities and we’ll know where to go from there. If she shows promise we can apply for a scholarship to RADA. I have sponsored several such scholarships for their students in the past. The Academy of Dramatic Arts is the best possible training in Britain for stage and screen work but it will depend on her innate talent. They will not accept amateurs when there are so many competing for a place in their program.”
“She’ll be a very lucky girl if she makes it there. It’s early days yet, of course.”
“Indeed. Now what about the mundane details?
Things like communication, transport, pocket money and suitable clothes for her lessons and auditions?”
“I have a schedule for tomorrow ready to be downloaded to her phone. I can update it each day as circumstances change. I opened an account with a taxi company for the first week. After that she can use the Underground or buses to get to appointments. Your loft is in the City which helps a lot. If she were coming from the suburbs this would be much more difficult to arrange.
As for clothes and pocket money, I thought it advisable to put this on a business footing. I’ll give her a budget and a credit card with limited spending power and insist on accounts being kept for every single thing.
We’ll soon see how responsible she is.”
“Superb planning, as usual, Suzanne! Give me everything before I leave tonight. My driver is picking Carla up at the train station and she should be waiting for me at the loft by seven o’clock. I have never seen this girl. This experiment should be interesting.”
“I trust you are not overloading yourself, Miss Morton.” There was a hint of worry in her P.A.’s normally efficient businesslike tones. Zoe was touched by her concern but said nothing. “With your search for new accommodations and the appointments with Dr. Wesley underway, you are really pressed for time these days.”
“Don’t worry, Suzanne! I will adhere to your timetable and get enough sleep. It’s a very exciting period in my life at the moment. I could not be more ready for the changes.”
“Very good, then. Can we turn to today’s other issues?”
“Mum, it’s me. I’m here! You won’t believe this place. No, Zoe Morton isn’t here yet. Her driver…….yes, she has a limousine driver in a uniform who met me at the station with a big card with my name on it. Honestly, people were looking at me to see if I was some celebrity in disguise. I felt like an imposter. Wait! Let me tell you about the apartment. It’s in a big warehouse with huge high ceilings and enormous windows you could never reach to clean. There’s an elevator that goes right to her door and a doorman at the entrance who asks who you are and looks on a list before he lets you go up. I’ve never seen anything like it except in the movies about New York.
Well, when you get inside it’s amazing. All white furniture and polished concrete floors with gorgeous colourful rugs and a white orchid plant on a table by the windows that must be six feet tall. The doorman told me Miss Morton sent a message to say I should go up and make something to eat if I wanted. He actually gave me a key. I poked around a bit to find the bathroom and see how many bedrooms there were. No, I didn’t break anything! I was super careful. There’s a private suite with bedroom and huge bathroom behind a double door entrance but I couldn’t find another bed. Probably one of the huge couches opens up to be a bed for me but there’s a small bathroom for guests I think, so that’s okay as I am the guest for now.
Yes, I was feeling hungry by then so I went into the kitchen which is along a side wall. I couldn’t see anything other than cupboards so I opened some up. Absolutely everything was out of sight behind these cupboard doors. Fridge, dishwasher, freezer, coffee maker, teapot……. all pull-out doors down below with everything so neat and tidy. You would love this, Mum! But I really didn’t find much food.
I don’t think she cooks here. I found a loaf of bread in the freezer and a small container of cream cheese so I made toast and a pot of tea. The island beside the kitchen has a sink with taps that pop up when you press a button and the sink has a marble cover that slides away when the taps appear. There are high stools that fit under the island and all the knives and forks are in drawers there.
Of course, I washed my dishes but I couldn’t unpack since I didn’t know where to put my things. It looks like everything here is hidden away. Maybe a wardrobe pokes out of a wall when you talk to it! Yes, I am very excited, Mum, but I am so grateful to you for giving me this chance and I will not let you and Dad or Brad or Miss Morton down.
Hold on! I think that’s the elevator. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you. Bye for now.”
Zoe entered her apartment, knowing her guest had already arrived. The lights came on automatically when someone walked in and the blinds on the windows closed at dusk but she could not, at first see Carla Carstairs. Perhaps she was in the guest bathroom.
She dropped her briefcase on the kitchen island and looked around for the girl. Surely, she must have heard the front door close.
She saw her standing by the central window. Her hand was on the table near the orchid. She was posed there, waiting to be discovered, as if she had given thought to her benefactor’s first impression of her.
It was working. Carla Carstairs was certainly impressive.
She was tall and slender with brown hair half-way down her back. Her hair had reddish highlights under the bank of industrial style light fittings, and she had that rarity, a true widow’s peak which gave her face a heart-shaped appearance.
Her skin was northern pale unspoiled by Spanish holidays broiling in the sun, and it looked, to Zoe’s practised eye, as if she had done her own make-up and made a good job of it, unlike most young women these days.
Her features were regular, balanced, and she had two outstanding advantages; sculpted lips and pale blue eyes like ice chips.
So, full marks on the appearance scale. If nothing else, she could definitely get modelling work.
Zoe ignored the clothes which were cheap and ill-fitting. She also bypassed the short, untidy nails. Both deficits were an easy fix.
Now, what about movement and voice?
“There you are Carla! I hope you made yourself at home. Please come over here and sit on a stool.”
She must have known she was being inspected but the young woman walked confidently across the floor space, smiled, held out her hand and said, “I am so happy to meet you Miss Morton. My mother told me about your generosity and I am more grateful than I could ever express. Thank you.”
She can move and she has a pleasant voice with just a hint of Yorkshire. She climbed onto the high stool with never a stumble. Nothing problematic whatsoever. Well done!
“We have a lot of work ahead of us Carla. I won’t pretend it’s going to be easy but nothing worthwhile ever is. You will be tested in the next few days to find out what you have inside you. Your attitude and ability count. Do your best at every task you are set no matter how strange. I will get reports every day. Let’s get started as we mean to go on. Here is a phone with your schedule for tomorrow. It will be updated each day. Just tell the taxi driver where you need to be and pay attention to your whereabouts. Next week you’ll be finding your own way. The taxi company has been paid for this week. Call their number when you need them. Do not be late to any appointments. The professionals you will be dealing with do not tolerate carelessness.
The credit card has a limit. You can use it for necessities but save every receipt. You already have a key to the loft? Don’t lose it and I would prefer if you don’t advertise where you are staying. I like my privacy.”
Carla was watching every expression and listening intently to every word.
Not easily scared, then! Good.
That’s the business part but the other part is more personal. I may not be here every evening. Cook or order in if you wish. The large couch is a bed and the coffee table has pillows and linens stored inside.
The guest bathroom is yours to use. You’ll find concealed drawers and cupboards there for your things, also a washer dryer combo.
I expect my home to be clean and tidy. A maid service works here for four hours once a week, usually on a Friday morning. Don’t get in their way if you are here at that time.
Now, we are about the same size so I will bring some clothes from my closet for you to try on. Take what fits until you can buy what you need. For tomorrow you should look smart when required, but able to move around freely for the active sessions. Something very casual will do for that.
Now, I am off to bed early and I suggest you do the same, Carla. Tomorrow may be the most i
mportant day of your life. I’ll bid you a good night.”
The elegant woman smiled in a way that lit up her face. She inclined her head and a wing of jet black hair swung down. It was a stunning effect.
Carla did not dare move a muscle until Zoe Morton returned and laid an armful of clothing on the kitchen island. After that she breathed deeply for the first time in minutes and picked up the phone to see what the Friday program was like. It was immediately obvious that she would need to be alert and energetic to complete the schedule. There was barely thirty minutes between appointment locations.
It might be necessary to change in the taxi. She would empty her roll-on case and use it to pack everything she might need, including deodorant, hair brush, pairs of shoes and a headband or scarf.
The heap of Zoe Morton’s clothes beckoned to her. Imagine trying on the clothes of one of the most successful women executives in the country! Her hand trembled as she held up the suit jacket between finger and thumb. It was light as a feather with a gleam that suggested silk threads. The discreet buttons were gold and the collar was a tiny stand-up, lined in blue. The sleeves were a trifle long but when she turned one up she saw the lining was meant to be on show. The jacket fit her like a glove.
Where was there a mirror? She ran for the bathroom and had to stifle a cry of delight when she saw the effect of the deep marine jacket with her eyes. Praying there would be a matching skirt or pair of trousers, she ran back into the kitchen. It would be easier to bring all the clothes to the mirror so she did that, hopping along as the excitement grew. She rolled up her hair and twisted it at the back of her head. She was glad she had not been able to afford a haircut for the last year. The photographer who was going to do a portfolio for her tomorrow would likely prefer to style her hair different ways. She would ask him if she could capture a snap or two to send home. Now she had a smart phone to do this.
Me, with a smart phone! Me, with a key to this palace! Me, with Zoe Morton as a mentor! Me, starting the career I always longed for!
