The journey, for someone of Lily’s active temperament, was unendurable. She felt lonely, bored and thoroughly miserable. If Jack was sleeping with someone else while she was away, wasn’t it only natural? she argued to herself. Men were like that – she’d been tempted herself from time to time – so what was the point of a fuss and a row? Jack would deny everything, turn nasty and probably use his fists. Whatever happened, she’d lose him. There’d be a divorce. What was she doing stuck on this bloody train, anyway?
An hour later, brooding alone in her carriage, she felt angry. Was he sneaking round behind her back, the bastard? If he was bored, he could have come to her, even if she couldn’t go to him, but no, he wouldn’t do that because men didn’t follow their wives about; it had to be the other way round. And meanwhile, what was he doing with her money? The group at the Lodge were ripping through her cash so fast she might as well not be working. She’d been bouncing about in trains, changing in cold dressing rooms, doing three shows a day for two months, while Rose, her mother, probably her brothers and perhaps some fancy piece of Jade’s, all toasted themselves by huge fires, ate, drank and had parties. Jack could be rolling around in her bed with some tart while she was playing cards in the station buffet for hours, waiting for a train.
The journey took nine hours and drove Lily mad. Only Dad, she thought, ever refused to take money from her. He sat in the little house in Hoxton, never visited the Lodge, never asked anything of her but the tobacco she gave him for his pipe. By the time she reached Euston at five in the afternoon, she was fuming.
She arrived at Streatham in the early evening. There were few lights burning in the house, and no noise. As she stood on the porch, about to ring the bell, her brother Dan opened the door. He had a suitcase in his hand. He looked aghast to see her.
‘Well, Dan,’ Lily said, assuming a jolly air, ‘I thought I’d pop back for a night and see how you’re all getting on.’
Dan said, in a low voice, ‘I’m leaving, Lily.’
‘Why’s that? What’s happened?’ asked Lily, seeing something very wrong. Dan was pale and looked shaky. He had a bruise on his forehead. ‘Why don’t you come back inside and tell me all about it?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to go back,’ he mumbled.
Lily went in herself. ‘Is Jack about?’ Dan just looked at her, fearfully. ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked. ‘Is he all right?’ Home again, reassured by the familiar house, she was beginning to wonder about the fantasy that had brought her dashing back from Glasgow on the strength of a dream. But something was amiss.
‘He’s well,’ Dan said, but plainly he was keeping something back.
‘Is it Mum? What’s happened? Dan,’ she appealed, ‘you’ve got to tell me. Come inside.’
Dan stood obstinately on the step with his case. Finally he said, reluctantly, ‘I’d better come in, I suppose. You’re here now. But it might have been better if you’d stayed away.’
Lily walked into the wide, carpeted hall. It looked neglected. A bowl of dead flowers stood on the table beside the front door. She walked in through the open drawing-room door, understanding, now, a little of what she would find. A choked fire burned low in a grate where evidently a new fire had been hastily laid on the ashes of the old one. A half-empty bottle of gin stood in the hearth. The top of the piano was littered with glasses and bottles. There was a red silk dress flung into a chair. Newspapers, a teapot, cups and a pair of shoes littered the room, and two new, unopened hat boxes stood on the carpet. Lily walked into the middle of the room and turned to face her brother, who stood in the doorway, still holding his suitcase.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked flatly. ‘I’m sending money for servants’ wages, and there aren’t any. You’ve taken it into your head to move out. Where’s Jack? Has he gone? Where’s Mum? Where’s Rose? Come on, Dan, you might as well tell me. I’ll find out soon enough.’
A voice from the door, Lily’s mother’s, said, unpleasantly, ‘Still here, Dan? I thought you said you were leaving.’ Queenie Strugnell came into the room carrying a dustpan and brush. When she saw Lily also in the room she looked completely appalled. She dropped the dustpan and brush. ‘Lily!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh my God – Lily! You’re supposed to be in Glasgow.’ She looked frightened, Lily noted. Queenie dropped into a chair, put her head in her hands, and began to sob. ‘I’ve done my best,’ she wept. ‘I’ve done my best, Lily. I’ve acted for the best all along.’
Lily stared first at Dan, then at her mother, then ran out of the room. She tore through the ground floor, staring into each room from the doorway. The billiard room was empty, the library sofa had a large burn in the centre, the desk was covered with papers and unopened letters. The dining-room table had used plates and dishes all over it. In the kitchen, the fire was out, the sink full, and there was a smell of burnt fat. ‘My God. My God,’ she said over and over with each fresh revelation. ‘Oh my God. What’s been going on here?’ She raced upstairs and flung open the door of the bedroom she shared with Jack. The room was mostly in darkness, though two gas jets, turned low, burned on either side of the mantelpiece. There was an abrupt sound as Jack sat bolt upright in bed.
Lily marched in. ‘Don’t you tell me you thought I was in Glasgow, Jack,’ she said loudly. ‘Ma’s already said it. It’s obvious what goes on when you all think I’m away so – let’s see who this is.’ She went to the bed and ripped back the covers over the sleeping figure beside Jack. The woman turned over and gazed up at her blearily, but Lily already knew, from the posture of the body and the tumbled dark head, who she was. Jack Finlay was in bed with Rose.
Lily smacked Rose’s face, hard. Leaning over, she said, ‘Bitch! You rotten bitch, Rose!’
Rose began to cry, holding her hand to her face. ‘Jack, get her off me. She’s hurt me,’ she said.
‘Get out! Both of you – get out!’ cried Lily. The full horror struck her. She swung round, away from the bed, saying, ‘My God – oh my God. How could this happen? My own sister – how could this happen?’
She forced herself to stand still by the fireplace as Jack and Rose, both naked, scrambled into their clothes. ‘My God. My sister. My own sister. Oh my God,’ she was saying.
‘Go downstairs, Lily,’ pleaded Rose in a sobbing mumble, as she sat on the edge of the bed trying to fasten her petticoat strings behind her.
On hearing this, Lily became cold as ice. She said, ‘I don’t want my dressing-table fittings to leave in your pocket.’
Rose said nothing more. Jack said, ‘Forgive me, Lily. We didn’t want to hurt you for all the world.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t have done it then, Jack,’ said Lily. ‘I hope you die of this. I hope both of you die.’
Rose’s sobbing increased. ‘Oh Lily, Lily,’ she gasped.
‘Don’t Lily, Lily me, Rose,’ said Lily. ‘Just get out of the house. I never want to see you again.’
She watched them dress, her head spinning. She thought, that was the love he bore me – to make love to my own sister once my back was turned. That was how much my sister loved me – to take Jack off me as soon as she could. She’s always hated me. She hates me more now, because I’m successful and she never could be. All she could do in revenge was sleep with Jack. While they both idled about on my money. It’s the money that’s done it. It’s the money that caused all this. No need to work or worry, Lily’s paying for everything, they think. They must have laughed at me, flogging from town to town while they lay in my bed, fucking each other. I’ll never get over this, she thought, never. It’s the betrayal. That’s what hurts – the treachery of it.
She stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, as they descended. At the foot of the stairs Jack turned round. ‘Lily he appealed.
‘Get out,’ Lily said.
Queenie came to the drawing-room door. ‘I told you, Rose,’ she shouted. ‘I told you. You’re a stupid little bitch who doesn’t know when she’s well off and has got the best sister in the world.’
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‘Shut up, Mum,’ cried Lily. ‘That’s enough. You’re too late now. You should have told her that before.’
Jack turned again. ‘Lily – I love you.’
Dan was in the hall. ‘Yeah. Let’s hear that again. You’re a bastard, Jack Finlay.’
Without hesitation or warning, Jack ran at Dan and punched him in the face, driving him back against the wall. Lily flew downstairs and tried to drag him off, but Jack continued to push rapid, short punches into Dan’s face. Rose stood, her back to the door, horrified. Finally he stopped. He drew back, breathing deeply. Dan slid down the wall, his hands to his face, blood leaking between his fingers.
Lily looked at Jack. The savagery ebbed from his face. ‘Now you’ve done what you wanted, get out,’ she said flatly. Jack went to the door with a heavy, mechanical step, as if unaware of where he was, or why. Rose followed wordlessly. The door closed behind them.
Queenie went to the kitchen to get water to bathe Dan’s face. Lily went over to him, helped him to his feet and supported him into the drawing room. A terrible silence hung over the house as Dan lay, teeth gritted, on the sofa, with blood pouring down on to his collar. Queenie came into the room, holding an enamel bowl well away from her blue silk dress.
‘Is there anybody in the house who can go for a doctor?’ said Lily.
‘We don’t need a doctor,’ was her mother’s rapid reply.
‘’Course we bloody do.’
‘He could report this,’ Queenie said, dabbing at Dan’s wincing face.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Lily told her mother. ‘Anyway, even if he does, so what? Whose side are you on? Stop messing his face about, Ma, you’re doing more harm than good. He may need stitches. Why didn’t you get a telephone installed while I was gone, like I said? Never mind, I’ll go to the Radcliffes.’
‘What’ll they think?’
‘Don’t worry about what they’ll think. Start worrying about what I think,’ Lily promised grimly, heading for the door. She ran down the drive and along the unmade road to the next house.
Cecilia Radcliffe, of the Oak House, telephoned the doctor, secretly enjoying the interruption of a dull dinner party by her famous neighbour’s breathless request to use the telephone and her unlikely tale of her brother’s fall downstairs. It gave the guests something to talk about once she had gone.
The doctor arrived and stitched Dan’s cheek. He said that no other damage had been done apart from loosened teeth, which might survive if the patient was lucky.
When he’d left, Lily turned to her mother and asked, ‘Where’s Lennie?’
Queenie did not reply. Dan said, through stiffening lips, ‘He left last week. Had it out with Rose. Said he couldn’t take no more. He’s back with Dad.’
‘He was very rude to me,’ said Queenie.
‘You’re out on a limb, aren’t you, Ma?’ Lily said sardonically. ‘Didn’t you begin to wonder why everybody was walking out? Just because your daughter was sleeping with her brother-in-law? What went through your head? Oh, it happens in the best of families? Oh, it’ll all blow over and Lily’ll never find out? For Christ’s sake, Ma, what was it – the money? You couldn’t face me finding out and putting a stop to everything? My own brothers couldn’t go along with it, but you could – my mother. Why?’
‘I thought it was for the best,’ said Queenie. ‘I thought it’d come to an end when you got back and nobody would be any the worse for it. I didn’t want you upset.’
‘Not as long as you was paying the bills,’ Dan mumbled. ‘That was the point of it. I spoke to him before, to Jack. He punched me that time too. I couldn’t stand him and her going upstairs arm in arm – I ran up and caught him by the shoulder halfway up and said, “What about Lily?” He said, “What about her then?” and bashed me in the face. I’d have fallen downstairs if I hadn’t caught hold of the banister. He’s a charmer, your husband.’
‘I tried my best,’ said Queenie. ‘I pleaded with that girl on the quiet, over and over again. She just told me she loved him. Loved him,’ she said disgustedly. ‘What sort of an excuse is that? I asked her, but she wouldn’t see sense. “What’s Lily going to think if she finds out?” I asked her. “He’ll leave her,” she told me, “because it’s me he loves really. Lily was the shadow, I’m the substance,” she said. I said, “What kind of tosh have you been reading, my girl? Get your head out of those cheap novels and remember that your sister’s been very good to you, and to all of us. How can you repay her this way?”’
‘What did you say to Jack?’ Lily pressed.
Her mother blinked. ‘Jack? What was the good of talking to Jack? He’s a law unto himself.’
‘He’s a madman,’ Dan said. ‘He’s like an animal. He can’t think straight. Punching and – the other thing – that’s all he knows. His manager’s sacked him. He’s been missing training, refusing his advice, so he walked out.’
‘Laschmann’s sacked him?’ said Lily.
‘Yes. A month ago,’ mumbled Dan. ‘Too easy here. Too easy for all of us, if you ask me.’ He shot a glance at his mother.
‘So no one told me that, either,’ Lily accused her mother. ‘I’m fobbed off with stories about how there aren’t any fights. No wonder you never had the telephone installed. Too much chance of some information leaking out.’
‘It wasn’t that,’ interrupted Queenie.
‘You may think it wasn’t, but it was,’ Lily asserted. She put her head in her hands. ‘My God, what a bloody crime. Betrayed by my own husband and the whole bloody family as well.’
‘Don’t play the tragedy queen with me, Lily,’ Queenie said sharply. ‘Pull yourself together, girl. You aren’t the first person this has happened to, and you won’t be the last. It’ll blow over.’
‘Send Ma back to Hoxton,’ Dan told Lily. ‘Dad and Lennie are in a mess. They need looking after. And this life’s no good for her.’
‘Don’t talk about me as if I wasn’t in the room,’ complained Queenie.
Lily cried out, ‘I can’t cope with all this. My husband’s run off with my sister. My mother’s been conniving with them while they let me down. My brothers have walked out on me because of it. As for money – I dread to think of the bills.’ She turned to Dan. ‘Why the hell didn’t you or Lennie let me know?’
Dan simply looked at Queenie. Lily said, ‘Well, Ma, you’d better get back to Hoxton straight away. I’m due in Liverpool tomorrow afternoon. I’m shutting up the house before I go. I’ll sell the lease. I can’t live here no more, not after this, not after him.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘Dan – are you fit to go and find us a cab? We’re all leaving tonight.’
Lily spent a wakeful night at a hotel near Liverpool Street station. Sometimes she wept into the pillow, then bit her lips and told herself she had no right to cry. She had known what Jack was like from the beginning. And she should have known, shouldn’t she, that where the woman earned too much, the man got lazy and resentful, felt useless and took the best revenge he could. Jack’s had been to sleep with her own sister. And then there was the touring, that well-known destroyer of marriages. Everybody in the business knew it.
Lily tried to avoid tears. There was no one there to dry them for her, just as for most of her life there never had been. But she had given Jack her heart. I’ll never get over this, she told herself at three in the morning.
But by eight, pale but straight-backed, she was on the train for Liverpool, and by five she was at the theatre, made up, smiling and determined to win her audience. At half past eleven that night, she broke down in the public house where some of the artistes were having a last drink before going back to their lodgings.
If Veronica Clark, wife of the elderly comic Albert Clark, had not already heard of the bust-up at the Lodge – news travelled fast in the theatre – at any rate she was not surprised by it. Veronica, a middle-aged woman who had once been a singer and dancer, went everywhere with her husband. She kept a blanket in the wings to throw over him when he came off stage, in case
he caught a chill; she spent her afternoons and evenings in dressing rooms or by the side of the stage, wherever she could find a corner, knitting Albert sweaters or making children’s clothes for the families of her brothers and sisters. People sometimes laughed at Veronica, but not when they were taken ill, or in distress, or needed anything from a safety pin to a drop of brandy.
She drew Lily away and said, ‘Come and sit down in the corner, love, till you’ve pulled yourself together.’
At the bar, the others pretended not to notice. ‘She went to London,’ reported a fat singer. ‘Must have found something there she didn’t like.’ ‘That’s touring for you,’ Roger the conjuror said. A muttered conversation continued, chiefly centring on anecdotes about disasters which had happened to the various artistes on tour.
In the corner, Veronica fetched Lily a glass of port and said, ‘You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want, but anything you do say won’t go any further. There’s too much gossip in this business. I suppose you found your husband had a new bit of skirt while you were gone?’
Lily nodded. ‘Only my sister Rose,’ she said. ‘I found them in my bed yesterday evening. That’s not all, of course.’
‘Don’t need much else, do you?’ Veronica said. ‘That’s a rotten trick. At least a man should keep his dirty behaviour away from home. It’s no good, love, this touring. That’s why I come with Albert all the time, been doing it for years, ever since I gave up the profession – and that was why I gave it up. I was always in Hull while he was in Eastbourne. Of course, things happened on both sides, as it turned out. I realised it was the stage or the marriage – I couldn’t have both. Or children, for that matter. It’s a blessing none came along. The question is, can you find it in your heart to forgive him, now he’s turned elsewhere for comfort while you were away?’
Elizabeth and Lily Page 31
