The Foreigner

by P. G. Glynn

  Anticipating what would be coming next, he said: “More or less.”

  “Naturally, after winning Mam over and auditioning successfully, you can live with us throughout your studies. It’ll be lovely having you in London … and you’ll be able to see for yourself that it isn’t the den of iniquity Mam thinks it is.”

  “She told me about the … the white slave traffic.”

  Trying not to laugh, Marie and Otto exchanged glances. He responded: “Did she, indeed? Take it from me that if that went on I’d know about it!”

  It was beginning to weigh on him that things were getting complicated. With Uncle John scouring London for a house and with Marie casually issuing invitations, Otto felt as if caught in a web from which he would sooner or later have to extricate himself. Nevertheless he expected things to turn before long to his advantage. They invariably did, so there was no need to panic.

  He gazed across the wintry landscape to the Sugar Loaf, which lay on the far side of the village and had a sprinkling of snow on its flat summit. It had snowed earlier on but the snow had not settled in Gilchrist. Sleet had quickly turned to rain, resulting in slush on the paths and pavements. Now the sun was out, its rays reaching him from between scudding clouds and highlighting nearby sheep as well as the green, green countryside. The greenness was hardly surprising given the way it rained in Wales. Otto had never known so much rain and was now well accustomed to hearing it on the roof and seeing it splash against the windowpanes daily. Wales, for him, was rain along with Marie’s mother complaining. What a martyr she was – and what a tyrant! Whenever she opened her mouth a torrent of self-pity or of criticism or of anger came out. Otto saw her as an appalling mother and grandmother, yet she saw herself as saintly with daughters and a toddler who were a terrible trial to her. The silly woman didn’t know how blessed she was and it would do her good to lose Lucy like she had lost Marie. He found himself wishing he could help in the loss.

  It occurred to him that he could do more than wish. He could help, financially at least. Lucy could perhaps lodge with Uncle John and Otto could pay for her lodgings as well as her tuition fees if she won herself a place at the Royal Academy. Whether she would was another matter. She was such a timid little thing, without Marie’s verve and vivacity. But being under Janet’s thumb was enough to make anyone timid. Otto had asked Marie how she could prefer being at Beulah to being at Schloss Berger and she had answered that she didn’t prefer it. She was here because she loved Lucy and felt sorry for her … and because of Pa, who had been born in Gilchrist. If her son was born here, she had said, it would in a sense be Pa being born again. There was no arguing with such feminine logic.

  Otto took heart, though, from Marie’s periodic comparisons between conditions here and in Bohemia … and from remembering her reaction to the closure of the Tavistock Theatre. With Nell’s news the blackest of moods had descended on her and she had not wished to linger in London. It must surely work in Otto’s favour that Charles Brodie was off the scene, at least for the time being. Without him there, tempting her back to her old life, Marie might realise how much better off she was in her new one. And not just financially, although she would in time come to see that for Otto money did virtually grow on trees. In Bohemia, along with Schloss Berger and its many amenities, their children would have the benefit of a loving Omama who was the opposite of Janet Jenkins. Yes, no question but that events were heading in the right direction and that, given the way the land lay, by next September Marie would probably be begging him to take her home to Herrlichbach! Meanwhile what fun it would be, watching Lucy attempt to detach herself from her mother’s apron strings …

  +++++

  Lucy knew that she would have to tell Mam soon. Time was flying by and once Marie’s new baby arrived there would probably be fewer opportunities than at present. Marie had said that Lucy herself must do the telling, but that she and Otto would be on hand to help if necessary. There was no ‘if’ about it! Their help would be essential and unless Lucy plucked up courage while Marie was still here she would never pluck it up.

  At least Marie thought Lucy had potential as an actress. She had said so after Lucy recited one of John Donne’s poems and read a passage from Paradise Lost … and had promised that she meant it. She had then given some tips on auditioning, saying it was natural to be nervous at the thought of acting in front of strangers and that nerves helped an actress’s flow of adrenalin. Marie seemed to regard flowing adrenalin as a good thing and didn’t understand that Lucy felt frightened half to death at the prospect of performing in front of any audience other than that at the Sunday School concert in chapel. It was there she had first heard applause and first thought that she might like to perform professionally. There could be nothing better, could there, than to be like Marie?

  She could not be like her in leaving Mam close to speechlessness, nor in marrying a rich man and going off across the sea since with Lucy Mam always had the last word and since no man, rich or otherwise, was likely to look twice at her … but she could compete with Marie for acting ability and would have an advantage if she attended that Academy.

  First she must somehow persuade Mam to let her go to London and then act on her sister’s advice at the audition. Marie said that to be a true actress one had to live the part, not simply play it. Could Lucy do that and convince Mam that acting was better than dressmaking? She knew she had no hope of doing so unless she spoke up soon.

  At tea she said tentatively: “I’ve been reading recently about Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree and he … ”

  “ … founded the Royal Academy, didn’t he?” Otto finished for her, innocently.

  “Yes,” Marie answered as Lucy swallowed hard. “The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art.”

  “So royalty go there, do they?” he asked.

  “They’re bound to,” Marie said, dipping a ‘soldier’ of bread into a boiled egg and then offering it to Carla, who was sitting on her knee. “Who else could afford the fees?”

  “I could,” said Otto, adding quickly, “if necessary.”

  “What are these fees for, exactly?” asked Janet, pouring hot water from the kettle on to somewhat tired tea leaves in her second-best pot. “This is the first I’ve heard of fees, or of royalty.”

  “It is?” He smiled engagingly. “How very remiss of me not to mention to you sooner my willingness to fund someone’s studies at dear old Sir Herbert’s Academy!”

  “You know this ‘Sir’?”

  “Knew him,” Otto said, remembering reading of the founder’s death. “Sadly, he’s no longer with us, although fortunately for posterity his work has continued without interruption.”

  “That is fortunate,” Janet agreed, querying immediately: “And you’re willing to pay for someone to study at his Academy?”

  “I am.”

  “Just anyone … or someone in particular?”

  “Someone sitting at this table,” he told her, looking meaningfully across at Lucy.

  “Me!” she squeaked. “I’ve been intending to tell you, Mam. You see, Miss James alarms me and I don’t want to go to her in Glangrwyney. I … I want to go to London and … and be an actress, like Marie.”

  “I suppose she’s been filling your head with stupid fantasies?”

  “No, Mam, she hasn’t,” Lucy protested. “None of this is Marie’s doing. It’s my own idea … and it was because I knew you wouldn’t approve that I didn’t mention it sooner.”

  “You knew that, did you? So you went behind my back and talked to all and sundry instead of coming to me? There’s a fine daughter you are! It’d be no more than you deserved if I were to close my ears to any more of your nonsense. But, contrary to your thinking, I happen to be a mother who listens … and who doesn’t judge without hearing all sides of a story.” Janet now turned her attention to Otto. “What was it you were saying, exactly, about paying Lucy’s fees at your friend’s Academy?”

  “I’ll be as exact as I can,” Otto told her happily. “So I must ment
ion at the outset that fees alone won’t gain anyone entrance to Sir Herbert’s fine establishment. His ongoing aim, you see, is to unearth outstanding acting talent in its infancy and then nurture it. Such talent takes some unearthing, believe me. Actresses like Marie are few and far between.”

  “But she didn’t study at his Academy – or at any Academy, come to that.”

  “Quite so,” he agreed. “Marie made it to the top the hard way before marrying me. It doesn’t have to be so hard, though, for Lucy. She would be taking a short-cut if she were lucky enough to be accepted as a student in such an illustrious set-up. However, to gain admission to the Royal Academy she’d need to prove conclusively that she has what it takes to make it to the topmost branch of the theatrical tree. The question is … could she?”

  It all needed some thought. There were several questions, to Janet’s way of thinking, far more important than whether Lucy could perform. Of course she could! It didn’t take much to stand on a stage and say words that someone else had written. The writing of them was the difficult bit, the saying a very simple thing. So it was insulting of Otto to suggest that Lucy might not be able to do it. Janet had been especially intrigued by two aspects of his little speech and now considered these. Since it had been hinted that nobody but royalty could afford the Academy’s fees these must be pretty steep … yet he was willing and able to pay them for Lucy. Which made him more or less royal, didn’t it?

  And he had married Marie … marrying her after she had, in his words, ‘made it to the top the hard way’. So if Marie had contracted such a marriage without the advantages now on offer for Lucy, imagine whom Lucy might marry if she studied at the Royal Academy! There was just no knowing who her fellow students might be if their families could all afford Sir Herbert’s fees. Why, Lucy might even end up as queen in some far flung country! It would be hard on Alice if both her sisters married above their station but Janet must be realistic in her expectations. Few mothers could come up with rich husbands for all their daughters. It was fortunate for Marie and Lucy that they had a mother who could see further than the end of her nose.

  Conscious of being the centre of attention and of the expectant hush at her teatable, Janet said slowly: “It’s good of you, Otto, to consider going to such expense for Lucy. I want you to know that there’s no need for you to feel … obligated on account of the hospitality you and your family are receiving from me.” Unable to read his expression but experiencing the queerest feeling that he saw her somewhat differently from how she saw herself, she felt flustered suddenly and went on in rather a hurry: “But … if someone is – was – a ‘Sir’ he must presumably have been trustworthy … and there’s no doubt in my mind that Lucy could satisfy his successors as to her ability. There’s the question, though, of a chaperone and of where she would live if … ”

  “No problem,” Marie interrupted. “The chances are that Otto and I won’t be living far from the Royal Academy in Gower Street, but wherever we finish up Lucy can live there with us for as long as she needs … and I’ll see that she never goes out unchaperoned, so you needn’t worry.”

  “She’d be your responsibility, Marie – yours and Otto’s – and the only circumstances whereby she could come to London are those in which you both assured me she’d be safe under your protection and under your roof.”

  “You can have that assurance twenty times over,” Marie told her.

  “Once will suffice,” Janet said. “Well, Lucy, what have you to say for yourself?”

  “Oh, thank you, Mam!” Lucy breathed, stunned that it had all been so easy. She just hoped she wouldn’t waken and find that she’d been dreaming. “And thank you, Otto and Marie!”

  “What about me?” Alice said peevishly.

  “How do you mean?” asked Marie.

  “It just isn’t fair. Nobody ever paid for me to study at any academy!”

  “That,” Marie told her with an air of finality, “is because you wanted to make hats, not to act. So be glad that you’re doing what you want to do … and that Lucy has an opportunity to do what she wants, too.”

  Wondering whether he might have been ill advised in assisting with all this Otto said uncomfortably: “I don’t know about anyone else but I’m ready for another cup of tea.”

  +++++

  Lucy hated hearing Marie’s screams. She could hear these even from the farthest corner of the garden, where Mam had banished her with a hoe until it was all over. Having a baby must be agony and Marie seemed to have been yelling for hours now. No wonder Bethan’s married sister said a girl should always cross her legs in company if she didn’t want to be given a baby before she was good and ready …

  Bethan was Lucy’s best friend and knew quite a bit about babies and how they were made. She reckoned that kissing was one way and that another was sitting untidily. There should never be space between a girl’s knees or else a seed might get in. Listening to Marie, Lucy made up her mind to take no risks of ever being given a baby.

  She still could not quite believe that she would be leaving Gilchrist in the autumn to go to London and live with Marie. It seemed beyond belief – and would be if she didn’t audition successfully. In any event she would see the big city when she went for her audition at the Academy and would see for herself how it differed from Abergavenny. Anywhere bigger than Abergavenny was hard to imagine, yet Marie said that London was vast by comparison. Fancy Mam actually agreeing to Lucy going there! Marie and Otto had worked a miracle on her.

  She suddenly realised that there had been no screams for quite a while. So had Marie had her baby? Lucy had hardly formed the thought before Otto, back from his walk with Carla, called from the kitchen door: “Come and see, Lucy: my son has been born!”

  +++++

  They had called him Hugo and Otto had sent a cablegram to Mama telling her that the Bergers now had an heir. She had cabled back that the whole of Herrlichbach was celebrating … and wondering when they would meet him.

  “Mama certainly tries hard!” laughed Marie, with Carla clambering all over her in an attempt to get more attention than her new brother, who was about to be fed. “Tell her, though, not to raise her hopes as they’ll all have to wait a few years yet.”

  “A few years?” Otto said. “At Mama’s age she can’t necessarily wait.”

  “And at my age, with two babies,” Marie told him, “especially when the second one’s delivery came close to killing me, I can’t even think about making that journey. It’s bad enough thinking about travelling to London, although the prospect of having our own home after the constraints of Mam and Beulah make that thought easier.”

  “Mama has the right to see her grandson,” Otto persevered.

  “Yes, she has,” Marie agreed edgily as Hugo began sucking at her breast, “and she can see him, if she comes to London. You’re always saying that it isn’t far to Bohemia, so the reverse must be true and Mama could come to visit us.”

  Committing a mortal sin in Janet’s absence and sitting on the bed while Marie fed his son Otto said: “It’s early days yet. You’ll want to show Hugo off to the family once you’re feeling strong again. Or do you envisage them all travelling to London to stay in the home that we don’t yet own?”

  “Heaven forbid! Next you’ll be suggesting a welcome for Lenka and Ludwig.” Marie was becoming slightly concerned that they’d heard nothing from Uncle John for over a month and that in his last letter he had written that he was still searching for a little palace for his princess to live in. She had written back telling him that it didn’t have to be a palace and that with the baby due at the end of March she saw late April as the right time for returning to London. Uncle John had not yet responded – not even following a telegram from Otto announcing Hugo’s arrival – and Mam had had plenty to say about entrusting her brother with money when it was obvious that he would either drink the lot or put it on the gee-gees and be astonished when he lost it. “I’m envisaging nothing other than Mama perhaps wishing to come over on a visit. I
think we’d better write to Uncle John again, asking whether he’d like us to send him some more money … and asking him to hurry. Now that Hugo’s here and Lucy’s path has been mapped for her there’s no reason to linger in Monmouthshire, is there?”

  “None whatsoever,” Otto readily agreed. Overjoyed to be the father of a son, he saw no reason to linger in Britain, either, but deemed this an inappropriate moment to say so. Careful timing was called for, besides which he was enjoying his euphoria. Since Marie presented him with Hugo he had loved her even more than before and ideally would like domicile in Bohemia to seem to be her idea – or would that be asking too much of his lucky star? “I’ll drop John a line right away and find out what’s causing the delay.”

  +++++

  Lucy gazed at the tiny, crumpled face of her new nephew, who was lying in the wooden crib old Charlie Jones had carved for him, and said with a sigh: “He’s such a little darling!”

  “He is when asleep,” Marie agreed. “When he’s awake he never seems to stop crying. I can’t remember a single disturbed night with Carla, whereas with him there’s no other kind.”

  “I expect he’s still recovering from his arrival.”

  “So am I! Giving birth to him was certainly no picnic.”

  “It didn’t sound like it, even from the bottom of the garden. Marie … ”

  When the sentence was left there, Marie gently enquired: “Is there something you want to ask me, Lucy?”

  “Yes … except I don’t know how to ask it.”

  “Don’t worry about how,” Marie said, smiling encouragingly and patting the patchwork counterpane to invite her sister to sit down. “Just open your mouth and let the words out.”