Elizabeth and Lily

by Hilary Bailey

  She decided that before going to Hoxton she would call on Sam Stackpoole, who was now working from offices above a tobacconist’s in Shaftesbury Avenue. She bought some flowers. On the way she passed the New Gallery Kinema, where you could see a varied programme of short films, from views of the world to comedy. She spotted a playbill for the Tivoli – Eugene Stratton and Lettie Collins. Good old Tiv, some things never change, thought Lily, remembering the sound of the orchestra tuning up, the banging and crashing backstage, laughter, quarrels, nerves – curtain up. She recalled, so vividly, now she was in London, that unique sensation of having a hundred, a thousand people out there, listening, feeling joy and sorrow because of what she sang.

  Then she was at Sam Stackpoole’s office. Once at the top of carpeted stairs in a freshly painted hallway, she found a frosted glass door marked ‘Miss V. Dickinson’ and breezed in, curtseying and presenting the flowers. Vera Dickinson looked up from her typewriter, her dour face suddenly smiling. ‘Lily! What are you doing – looking for an engagement?’

  ‘Wish I was, my dear,’ Lily carolled.

  ‘I don’t suppose that’s true.’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ Lily said. She was putting on a merry face but the truth was she yearned to ask the age-old question, ‘Anything for me today, dear?’

  Vera smiled sceptically. ‘Congratulations. I saw you had a son. How lovely for you. Sam’s inside – go in. He’ll be delighted to see you.’

  But Sam was already outside his office, holding out his arms. ‘Lily! What a surprise! Let’s go out to lunch. Telephone the Café Royal, Vera. Book us a table.’ And he swept her out of the office and back to Regent Street, walking so fast that Lily had to half run to keep up.

  Lily was pleased as Punch to be back, sitting at a table a stone’s throw from Piccadilly Circus with Sam. People kept coming up to greet her, smiling. The trouble was that they all seemed to think she must be very, very happy, and envied her the release from the grinding life of the halls – from the touring, from having either no new engagements, unpaid rent and a hole in her shoes, or too many engagements and being obliged to spend six nights a week in a hired cab, going from one theatre to another. No one mentioned her divorce, or Jack’s affair with Rose. To Sam, Lily said, cutting into her roast beef with enjoyment, ‘I’m going down to Hoxton after this to give my mum a surprise.’

  ‘I heard Jack and Rose had been living there,’ Sam said cautiously. Sam heard everything.

  ‘They still are,’ Lily told him. ‘My brothers have moved out, though.’

  ‘I hope your visit goes well,’ Sam said dubiously.

  Lily gazed at him and responded directly: ‘I’m going to have to forgive them, aren’t I? Life’s too short for bad blood in the family. If you let things fester, they get worse with time.’

  He nodded. ‘Best to forgive – if you can.’

  ‘You’re doing well, Sam, I can see.’

  ‘I wish you were still on the books.’

  ‘I’ll bet you do. You made enough out of me.’

  ‘You were practically my first client.’

  ‘I could make a return,’ she said, only half joking.

  ’Silly girl,’ he said, patting her hand. He knew, though. If he had not guessed, her next words told him.

  ‘I’m very bored, Sam.’

  ‘Handsome, kind husband, lovely baby, huge estate, good connections – and she’s bored,’ he complained, raising his eyes to the ornate ceiling. ‘I’ll order some champagne. I think you need a glass before you see Queenie.’

  They parted outside the restaurant and Lily got a cab to Hoxton. Sam walked back to his office, shaking his head. When he opened the glass-paned door to Vera Dickinson’s office, he was still shaking it.

  ‘What, Sam?’ Vera asked in alarm.

  ‘I don’t think she’s going to stay with her husband,’ he told her.

  ‘Oh, good gracious! I can’t believe it!’

  But Sam knew his Lily. He said, acutely, ‘I blame Jack Finlay. If it hadn’t been for that filthy divorce, she’d never have plunged into Stillwell’s arms. I hate to see Lily unhappy.’

  He went into his office and banged the door.

  Queenie, in an apron, opened the door of the little house to find Lily on the pavement. Her mouth dropped open. She was utterly astonished. Then she cried, ‘Lily! You never wrote or anything.’

  ‘I came on a whim. How are you, Mum?’ said Lily, noticing Queenie’s eyes beginning to look shifty.

  ‘I’m very well. And you? You look blooming,’ Queenie said.

  ‘Do I have to stand in the street talking to you?’ Lily enquired. ‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’

  Queenie said, ‘Lily, there’s something you should know.’

  ‘Do you mean Jack and Rose living here? Lennie wrote and told me. I’ve come to bury the hatchet.’

  With those brief words, Lily more or less drove her mother backwards into the house. It was rather dark, after the sunshine outside. A dim figure stood in the parlour door. Jack, in a pair of old trousers and a collarless shirt, was peering into the passageway.

  ‘What…?’ he said in confusion, as Lily closed the front door behind her.

  ‘Hullo, Jack,’ she said.

  He didn’t look very healthy, and he hadn’t shaved that day. ‘Look here, Lily,’ he said, about to become belligerent. ‘Your ma asked Rose and me here. And your dad, of course. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘I never said there was,’ Lily replied.

  Now Rose, on tiptoe, was peering with a horrified face over Jack’s shoulder.

  ‘We’d better have a cup of tea,’ announced Queenie.

  ‘Let’s go in the kitchen,’ Lily suggested. Through the half-open door, as Jack and Rose dropped back to consult, she saw an armchair with Jack’s slippers in front of it, an uneven tablecloth, a newspaper on the floor.

  In the small kitchen, Queenie put the kettle on the new gas stove, her pride and joy. After a moment Jack and Rose came in. Rose could not bring herself to sit down. She stood, in an old print dress, staring out into the little garden. Jack sat down at the kitchen table and gazed hard at Lily. There was tension in his face as, untidy, unshaven but as handsome as ever, he looked at his former wife. Lily realised, as if she’d been punched, that he still loved her. Suddenly she understood, without any shadow of a doubt, that he would come back to her at any time, regardless of circumstances. Did Rose know? She drew a deep breath and said coolly, ‘Let’s sit down. How have we all been?’

  ‘Some have been a lot better than others,’ Rose said pointedly, as she swung round. She sat down now, staring at Lily’s new dress and hat.

  ‘Life plays funny tricks on all of us, don’t it?’ Lily said pacifically.

  ‘Certainly does,’ said Rose, still angry.

  ‘You make your bed and you lie on it,’ Queenie said from the stove. ‘I’ve always said that.’

  ‘Very original. Some of us, of course, are past making our own beds,’ retorted Rose. ‘They have others to do it for them.’

  ‘Look here, Rose. I didn’t come to have a row,’ Lily told her. ‘I’m in London. I’ve come to see Ma. Can’t we bury the past for five minutes?’

  Rose looked at Jack. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ she enquired.

  ‘I haven’t got much to say,’ he responded.

  ‘How’s the boxing?’ Lily asked.

  The expression on his face as he replied called up everything – his fight at the Paradise, the race to the bed in Grosvenor Square, the coach driving through the cheering East End crowds, the parties. But all he said was, ‘I’m sorry to say I lost the last two. I’m trying for a decider with Kid Kelly – but I don’t suppose that means much to you, Lily.’

  ‘I remember Kelly,’ she said. ‘Little chap with two wives. Very quick.’

  ‘That’s him,’ Jack said.

  There was a pause. ‘I wish you the best of luck,’ Lily said.

  Jack said, ‘I’ve got a new manager now.’<
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  It was plain to Lily that the new manager was no good. Jack should have gone on his knees to Laschmann and pleaded to be taken back. He wouldn’t have, though. Because of his pride. But it had always been Laschmann who kept Jack, as far as possible, on the straight and narrow, made him train, watched his diet, got him to bed early before fights. If he could. It had been an uphill battle, but it had been Laschmann’s efforts which saved Jack from the worst consequences of his lack of discipline. Lily doubted if anyone else could do it.

  Queenie made the tea. As she brought the cups to the table, Rose burst out at Jack, ‘Well, aren’t you going to tell her the good news?’

  ‘What?’ asked Lily.

  ‘I’m expecting a baby,’ Rose said. ‘We’re thinking of going to Canada.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ said Lily, but there was no doubting jack’s complete lack of happiness or excitement about either of these prospects. Lily thought, she’ll be lucky if he doesn’t run away.

  As if she had read Lily’s thoughts, or had thought the same thing for some time, as she probably had, Queenie said quickly, ‘It’ll break my heart to see them go, but youth must be served, and with a baby on the way it’ll be better to make a fresh start in a new country where there’s plenty of opportunity.’

  Lily was chilled by the news that Rose was carrying Jack’s child. Of course, it was the most natural thing in the world, only to be expected. Yet she remembered the nightmare of the abortion in Bath, what felt like a lifetime ago. She remembered her collapse after the performance, the agonising bloody business in the hotel. Something like rage boiled up within her. She’d refused to have Jack’s child because she knew he wouldn’t be able to endure it. Yet here was Rose, looking proud of herself because she was having a baby. Lily finished her tea quickly and stood up. Tm not here for long. I thought I’d go and see Dad. Is he at Carr’s today?’

  ‘Yes. He’s been in the workshop all week. You’ll find him there,’ Queenie told her. She knew that Rose and Jack were miserable together and that Lily’s appearance, looking wealthy and carefree, was improving nothing. Jack’s wretchedness filled the kitchen like steam. Queenie could only be glad that Lily was removing herself.

  ‘See you all again before I go,’ Lily said as she left the kitchen, and knew she lied.

  As she went out, saying, ‘Goodbye Rose – Jack,’ Rose merely nodded without speaking. Jack looked up at her from the table as she stood in the doorway, his big blue eyes sad and beaten. Then came a little flare of the old lusty aggression. He gave her a look that said, I could have you, if I wanted, and we both know it.

  Lily made herself walk calmly down the passageway to the front door, saying, ‘Glad to see you looking so well, Ma.’

  Queenie muttered, ‘Yes. I’m all right,’ in a tone that meant the opposite.

  Lily was on the pavement and Queenie in the doorway when there came a rush of feet down the passageway. Suddenly Rose was elbowing Queenie aside. Now she was on the pavement with Lily. Her words came out in a rush. ‘Lily – I don’t want to ask you this but I’ve got to. We can’t get to Canada without money. We’ve got the passage money but that’s all. We need something to get started on. A hundred pounds – fifty – less than that even, just something to tide us over.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Rose,’ Lily said to her flushed sister. ‘I’ll see what I can manage. You can’t start out penniless in a new country.’

  ‘Thanks, Lily,’ said Rose, and would have said more, but Lily told her she had to go.

  Mr Carr let Charlie leave early so that he and Lily could go out together. Lily carried him off to a smoky restaurant for an early supper. They sat in a booth ofblackened wood. ‘Queenie’ll kill me,’ he said happily, eating steak and kidney pie with relish. ‘She’ll have my tea waiting for me at home later.’

  ‘Don’t tell her,’ Lily advised. ‘Eat twice – what’s the harm?’ She herself just had a cup of tea, as she’d be having dinner later at Brook Street with the Stillwells.

  ‘I told Rose I’d try to find some money for this Canadian venture,’ she confided. ‘Do you think they’ll go?’

  He shook his head. ‘God knows. There’s not much for them here.’

  ‘Jack doesn’t seem to have a job,’ Lily said.

  Wearily, Charlie shook his head. ‘Looking to make a comeback,’ he told her.

  ‘He’s not training, is he?’

  Charlie shook his head again. ‘He hasn’t got the discipline. Thinks it all comes by magic. Well, it did, once. He was a magic fighter, no doubt about it. But sooner or later that sort of gift has to be backed up by hard work and training, and Jack doesn’t seem to be able to do that. Of course, he came from a rotten family, but that can’t be the whole answer. Look at his brother, he’s steady enough. He’s making a real go of that bakery. If only Jack had that kind of application.’

  ‘Jack bought the bakery for him in the first place,’ Lily pointed out.

  Charlie nodded. ‘He’s got his good side.’ He gave her a questioning look. ‘I think you’re being very forgiving, Lily.’

  ‘I wanted to heal the breach, especially with Mum. But it broke my heart, seeing them both,’ Lily confessed. ‘And a baby on the way. I didn’t realise what it would be like.’ She paused. ‘It hurt me, Dad.’

  He looked at her sombrely. ‘Well – you’re all right now, Lily,’ he said, almost as if he were warning her. He went on, ‘They’re not getting along, of course. You saw that, I’m sure. Queenie’s trying to shore things up. He put down his knife and fork and said, ‘Lily – I don’t know why Queenie backed Rose and Jack all the time. The upshot is I’ve lost Lennie and Dan – and I hope you’ll never wonder if I knew about Rose and Jack from the first, or if I’m happy about it now. Because I didn’t and, my God, I’m not. I’m sick at heart about you, and about Dan and Lennie leaving. I should have got Queenie under control years ago.’ He paused. ‘It all went wrong when your brother Eddie died.’

  Lily’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh Dad,’ she said, and could say no more.

  Charlie coughed. ‘We can’t turn back the clock,’ he muttered. He cheered a little. ‘Still, you’re all right,’ he said. ‘That’s one good thing.’

  Lily made herself smile. ‘Speaking of that,’ she said, ‘I’d better go. My father-in-law’s coming to dinner.’

  ‘The Earl of East?’

  ‘The very same,’ she agreed.

  Walkers, the greasy chophouse in Commercial Street where Lily had met her father, was a far cry from the dinner table at Brook Street. Multicoloured glass lamps glowed on the highly polished sideboard; silver gleamed on the table. Annabel’s tidy maids, in their immaculate caps and aprons, moved round quietly, serving the guests. Only family members were present: Lionel and Annabel, Gordon and Lily, Caroline and the recently arrived Lord East. It had become apparent to Lily that when other members of the family were absent, Lionel and Annabel had a more cheerful life, frequently entertaining young friends from their own set, writers, actors, a few progressive politicians, a racy, jolly, witty group, but not one to appeal to the staider members of the family. Which was why they had not been invited tonight, Lily thought. And Annabel probably didn’t want to demonstrate too much careless enjoyment of London life, just in case.

  Henry East, at the head of the table, asked Lionel, ‘How’s the Turkish-Bulgarian question then?’

  ‘They won’t accept mediation on our terms.’

  ‘Who can understand the Balkans? Pack of savages. I don’t like this German arms build-up.’

  ‘Certainly there’s fear of German expansionism,’ Lionel said gravely to his father.

  ‘Well, I don’t need the Foreign Office to tell me that. It won’t be long before they launch a war to the east,’ he predicted gloomily. ‘Then what will we do?’

  ‘Sit back and wait for the Russians to knock spots off the Germans,’ Lionel said. ‘German expansion doesn’t suit us, either in arms or in trade.’

  The Earl brought his fist down on th
e table. ‘It would take cannons to get you Foreign Office chaps out of your seats. Has it never occurred to any of you that we and the US are Germany’s main competitors?’

  ‘So you think that the Kaiser, a cousin of the King, will attack the British Empire?’ Lionel questioned.

  ‘I’m not alone in that,’ his father said. ‘My God, Lionel. If this is an example of Foreign Office thinking—’

  ‘Oh, Henry,’ Caroline interrupted. ‘Surely Lionel must know. He’s on the spot, after all. In any case, I think we all find the subject rather gloomy. I hope your parents are well, Lily? Lily,’ she explained, ‘has just been to see her family.’

  ‘They’re well, thank you, Caroline,’ Lily said. There was little more she could add, in these surroundings.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said the Earl. ‘It’s a blessing to come from a healthy, robust family. Nothing better. You can have everything else in life, but without that, nothing’s worthwhile.’

  ‘They say Hereward Durrant is sinking,’ Caroline observed.

  ‘None of that, Caroline. If you can’t stand talk of war, I certainly can’t stand a long litany of sickness and death,’ her brother told her.

  ‘I was only going to remark that it will not be long before his son inherits.’

  ‘I hope he looks after his land a lot better than his father does,’ remarked the Earl, whose Yorkshire estates adjoined the Durrants’. ‘The estate manager, who’s some kind of relative, drinks. The hedges and ditches are all over the place. And that’s not all. It’s a punishment to be a neighbour of Hereward’s, costs a fortune just to make up for his deficiencies.’

  ‘All’s well at Crewe End, though, I hope?’ Lionel asked.

  ‘I’m keeping it in good shape for the future, thanks for your enquiry,’ the Earl said, in a temper, deciding to believe that Lionel was checking up on the state of his future inheritance. His mood was, for no apparent reason, getting worse as dinner wore on. Lionel now also looked annoyed.