The Foreigner

by P. G. Glynn

  “So Judith and Dolly get off scot-free?” asked Charles disbelievingly.

  “I bet they don’t,” said Nell, squeezing them each a second cup of tea from her obliging pot. “I’ll bet Marie has something up her sleeve.”

  “The unexpected,” Marie said. “That’s the way to proceed. Instead of giving them what they’re expecting, we need to give them what they least expect – in other words a sign of victory.”

  “Such as a party?” asked Nell. “I could throw one of my parties, to celebrate … ”

  “ … love,” said Marie, when Nell floundered. “Love and my change of direction.” She saw their curious faces turned toward her and thought quickly. “It occurs to me that the theatre is in a sense passé. The way forward, surely, in the entertainment industry is … films. They are the thing of the future – and will reach far bigger audiences than plays have ever reached. So let’s have a party to celebrate my debut as a film-actress!”

  +++++

  She sat sipping a cocktail amidst the opulence of the Ritz. Not far from Shaftesbury Avenue by taxi, this was her favourite watering hole for it was the epitome of elegance and of good living. The Swiss hotelier Cesar Ritz, who had been the Savoy’s first manager, was its inspiration when it was built in 1906 and Dolly wished she had met him. They would have had much in common, for her taste exactly matched his. Never having visited France was no barrier to her appreciation of the Rue de Rivoli arcade built as part of the Piccadilly façade, the long marble-floored gallery with its incredible crystal chandeliers, the Waring & Gillow furniture – and oh, the whole Louis XVI interior! Perhaps Dolly should have gone for a rich foreigner, like that damned Marie Howard. Perhaps she had been wasting herself on Englishmen.

  Why was it that after winning she didn’t feel as if she had won? Dolly seethed with a sense of impotence. Marie had the unmistakable demeanour of a woman who was loved … and her words about her heart no longer belonging in the theatre had the ring of truth to them. As for her parting thrust about Rider Haggard’s heroine – that hurt. Dolly could not remove her make-up now without being reminded of the way SHE disintegrated at the end, and of the fact that Dorothy Madison was just a sham.

  What had happened? Where had she gone wrong? Why had love eluded her all these years? She had known many men – meeting several of them here and being serenaded by the palm court orchestra, then bedded upstairs between silken sheets. But instead of sipping nectar she had invariably been left with a sense of having been used again. Or was she the user? More men than she cared to admit had accused her of this.

  “Ah, there you are!” said Judith. “You look lost in a trance.”

  Struggling to reclaim her wits, Dolly said irritably: “If I was, it’s because you’re late. Where have you been?”

  “Speaking to Marie,” Judith said as an attentive waiter helped her into her seat. “She rang as I was leaving and invited me to a … celebratory party.”

  “A what?” Dolly almost spilled her drink.

  “That was my reaction, along with the query as to why they would invite me. Not that Marie was at all forthcoming.”

  “Did she mention my meeting with her?”

  “Only in passing. She said that the outcome had been a … blessing.”

  “She’s bluffing. She must be!”

  “It didn’t sound like a bluff. She sounded … happy.”

  Dolly observed: “She’s up to something. We need to find out what it is.”

  “How … ?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Dolly intercepted. “You’ll attend the party and establish whether their celebration is real or pretence!”

  “I can’t … ”

  “You can and will,” said Dolly in a tone that defied opposition. “When is the party?”

  “Next Saturday.”

  +++++

  Marie reckoned she was doing an excellent job of convincing Charles and Nell that her brush with Dolly Martin had not been damaging. They had both been so concerned about the effects on her of such a travesty that she had been at pains to show them it didn’t matter. And it didn’t in that she was no longer the girl who wanted stardom above all else. Her love for Charles was stronger by far than her need to be a star. If he was happy, so was she – but he was unhappy, seeing it as his fault that Marie had walked into that trap. She had never realised how he agonised. Why, he was as bad as Nell at agonising!

  So Marie saw her current role as one of reassurance. In reassuring them she was almost succeeding in convincing herself that her confidence had not faltered. Actual success was eluding her as yet.

  She was still shocked by what went on in Dolly’s office and now doubted her ability to be the performer she had once been. Marie acknowledged that by Saturday she must somehow be doubt-free.

  +++++

  Judith had attended a Dalmeny Avenue party given by Nell Sedgwick in honour of Charles Brodie’s arrival as a resident. Her relief, back then, at avoidance of Guy’s Pa moving in with them at Hampstead Hill Gardens had been tempered by the spectacle of a load of old fogies staging a show that belonged in the Dark Ages. How unbelievably boring it had all been! She had endured the boredom because she was so relieved finally to have persuaded Guy that Charles would be better off with Nell than in Hampstead. The fact was that she would be better off. Horror of horrors if she’d had to take on a blind man, along with all her other responsibilities!

  Judith felt responsible for Guy as well as their School and two sons. The trouble with marrying a younger man was that one risked being perceived as a mother figure and treated accordingly. Guy also said that she talked down to him, which she supposed she did. Judith had not wanted an extra son. She had wanted a husband – someone who would love and protect her as if she were vulnerable. Of course the fact that she didn’t present an image of vulnerability worked against her. Throw in Guy’s continuing crush on Marie and Judith’s marriage was a recipe for disaster.

  Marie, blast her, was far more a Brodie than Judith could ever be, which was rich considering that she was not even a member of the family – or not officially. Unofficially she was its undisputed queen.

  So it was madness even to think of doing Dorothy’s bidding and attending Marie’s party. On the other hand, curiosity would probably kill her if she didn’t attend and establish whether this was an actual or pseudo celebration.

  +++++

  Nell wondered how she was going to cope with Judith. The theory of it was one thing, the practice quite another. As hostess, she would need to greet Guy’s wife as if pleased to see her. But how could she pretend to be pleased, given Judith’s appalling treatment of Marie?

  “If I can, you can,” Marie had told her earlier. “We’re actresses – remember? And that’s what actresses do: they act.”

  “Yes, but … ”

  “No ‘buts’ – just a big, welcoming smile. You can do that for me, can’t you, dearest?”

  Now the residents were gathering in the big drawing room and there was an anticipatory buzz on the air. With Maggie’s and Marie’s help Nell had been working flat out to ensure there were enough sandwiches and little cakes for everyone, but the party fare would not be brought in just yet. It was waiting at present, protected with greaseproof paper, in the butler’s pantry that led from the kitchen to an area concealed behind a sliding panel in the drawing room wall. One press of a button later and the panel would slide back to reveal plenty of food for all. Nell had been fascinated, as a young girl, by this ‘secret corridor’. Now she blessed it for its convenience when entertaining residents and guests.

  “I think everything’s ready,” she said, half to herself, as she helped old Emily Phanter into her usual seat by the fire. “Let’s just hope there are no air raid sirens tonight. We don’t need any extra excitement!”

  “I didn’t hear the siren,” Emily protested when she was seated. “Am I being left while the rest of you head for the shelter?”

  “None of us are heading anywhere, except here,” Nell re
assured her, just as the doorbell rang. “Excuse me, dear. I must answer that.”

  “Did you say gnat? It’s the wrong time of year, duckie … ”

  As Nell opened the front door and saw Judith standing on her step she almost forgot her pledge to be welcoming. But, remembering her rehearsed speech, she said: “It’s good of you to come, especially since we – you with your students and I with my residents – are somewhat at opposite ends of the theatrical spectrum. I trust our little entertainment won’t bore you too much.”

  “I never suffer from boredom,” Judith lied. “It was kind of you and Marie to invite me.” Her tweed coat duly removed and hung from one of the cluttered hooks in the hall, Nell then ushered her in.

  Marie noted with satisfaction that Judith could not quite meet her eyes as they greeted each other. Then, when to Judith’s added discomfiture Marie had ensured they were seated together, Nell invited Charles – who was already standing on the raised platform that sufficed as a stage – to open the proceedings.

  While waiting for everyone to take their seats he had been reflecting on how things had changed since Irving’s day. In the interim zeppelins had come and gone and cries of “Take cover!” had been supplanted by air-raid sirens and devastation from increasingly destructive bombs. As for the theatre: actor/managers had been supplanted by hard-headed management in the style of Dorothy Madison and audiences were surely poorer for that.

  Charles began: “We are here tonight to celebrate life … and love … and a new career for one of us.” He smiled. “Life is so precious, isn’t it? There’s nothing like war for reminding us just how precious it is. We are all alive, which in itself is cause for celebration. I mentioned love, which is certainly worth a second mention. I think that by now it must have come to the whole household’s attention that after my seeming loss of her soon after the first war, this war has restored to me the girl who long ago helped the Tavistock out of a crisis and set London as well as my heart alight. I use the term ‘long ago’ purely because we perceive years as we do. Time, it now seems to me, is a fallacy for I feel as if Marie and I were never parted. The wasteland that I inhabited while we were apart has vanished and we are back where we were, which is infinitely more than I deserve. As to Marie’s new career – I’ll leave her to tell you about that later. I now admit to having been pushing her in the direction of a return to the theatre and with that end in view introduced her to my daughter-in-law, Judith, whom I’m glad to have among us tonight. Judith, in all innocence I’m sure, arranged for Marie to meet someone who sabotaged the Tavistock Theatre not once, but twice, and who therefore does not feature on our menu of people to deal with in future. However, Providence stepped in as a result of that meeting which, with hindsight, we can see as a blessing. So, thank you Judith – and now let’s get on with our show! Would Harold and Hetty Howe care to start the proceedings?”

  This Harold and Hetty did, with gusto, resurrecting the act that they used to perform in music hall. While he played the piano accordion, she sang Lily Morris’s Why Am I Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Blushing Bride? followed by Vesta Victoria’s Waiting at the Church. They concluded with

  ‘The boy I love is up in the gallery

  The boy I love is looking now at me

  There he is – can’t you see

  Waving his handkerchief

  As merry as a robin

  That sings on the tree.’

  Playing and singing, they remembered as if with one mind their times of working with the likes of Hetty King and Vesta Tilley, especially the honour of appearing in the first Royal Command performance back in 1912 at the Palace Theatre, when Marie Lloyd (God bless her!) took spirited revenge for not being invited to appear. What a Cockney caution Marie was, staging her own show that same night at the London Pavilion and, despite the competition, selling every ticket! Then off she went across the Channel for a three-week season in Paris. Harold’s and Hetty’s eyes misted at this memory and at the hearty applause they received as they finished.

  Emily Phanter went on next. Nell’s oldest resident, at ninety-three, she shared qualities with Queen Mary, or so she was often told. Her carriage was certainly erect and, like the Queen, she swept her snowy white hair on to her head in a style somewhat reminiscent of a cottage loaf. She also had another royal connection, having received a congratulatory letter from Queen Victoria for her performance as Juliet in Shakespeare’s play at the Royalty. The letter was torn now and fragile after being folded and unfolded countless times since its receipt, but still bore testimony to Emily having once been young and an actress of standing. Dressed in a long black skirt and matching bolero over a white blouse with lacy jabot, she opened:

  ‘O gentle Romeo,

  If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully … ’

  Listening, Marie let her attention temporarily revert to Charles’s words. How immeasurably these had touched and strengthened her! For such an essentially private man to have opened his heart in public like that – well, it was incredible. As for his message to Judith – and via her to Dolly – that too had hit home. Judith had stiffened visibly and was now sitting as if on needles. Marie could not quite feel sympathy.

  When Emily eventually relinquished the stage Charles announced Teddy Tindale who was still a cheeky chappie with bright eyes and rosy cheeks despite being well into his seventies. His routine these days came courtesy of more modern comedians than he, and of ITMA, to which he and most of Britain listened avidly on Thursday evenings at half-past-eight. Hopefully nobody would tell Hitler that this would be an optimum time to invade! Where on earth would Britain be without Tommy Handley as the Governor of Tomtopia or as the Minister of Aggravation and Mysteries? Teddy’s audience all laughed tonight despite hearing most of his borrowed jokes for the umpteenth time. So he risked ending with one that had landed Max Miller in trouble: “I was walking along a cliff-top when a naked young lady came towards me. Blimey, I didn’t know whether to go in or over!”

  Veronica Standish then sang ‘We’ll gather Lilacs’ accompanied by Archie Fraser on the grand piano and they were followed by Walter Lorrimer, who had a horn-shaped protrusion from the middle of his forehead. This was never mentioned, so it wasn’t known whether he had been born with it or had come by it later. He encouraged everyone to join in singing ‘Bobbing Up and Down Like This’, which they did, complete with the actions that he instigated.

  Nell, who had not said what act she planned, now whispered in the pianist’s ear – and launched into a spirited rendition of the Can-Can. As she kicked and swirled as if still a young girl Marie was transported back to her bedroom in Uncle John’s house. It was the morning after her opening as Nancy in OLIVER TWIST and, when her friend again landed in the splits, Marie fully expected to hear Aunt Gwen querying whether Nell intended making a hole in her floor! Were they in a time warp? She spiritedly joined in the enthusiastic applause for an extraordinary performance.

  Once Yvonne Young had rendered Everything In the Garden’s Lovely, Charles took the stage to say: “Our little entertainment is almost at an end. My contribution is not from Dickens as some might expect, but from Shakespeare, whose sonnets speak volumes. I wish I could claim to have written these, for Marie:

  ‘To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were when first your eye I eyed, such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold have from the forests shook three summers’ pride, three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned, in process of the seasons have I seen, three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned, since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. Ah! Yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, steal from his figure and no pace perceived; so your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, hath motion and mine eye may be deceived: for fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.’

  After pausing to receive their applause he began afresh:

  ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate; rough winds do shake the
darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date. Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimmed, and every fair from fair sometimes declines, by chance or Nature’s changing course untrimmed. But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou owest, nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, when in eternal lines to time thou growest. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’

  Marie was so moved by his words and his heartfelt delivery that she doubted her ability to speak. The artiste in her triumphed, however, and after she had taken his arm to guide him to his seat she returned to the platform able to say: “I am awed.” Knowing that she needed to inject a little light-heartedness into the proceedings she added: “And thankful that Charles sees me with his inner vision! I don’t age for him – and name me a woman who wouldn’t wish to stay ageless for her man.” Then, fixing her gaze on Judith, she said: “The words of my first offering could have been specially written by Ella Wheeler Wilcox for the situation in which I’ve found myself since my meeting with the saboteur Charles mentioned earlier. Here they are:

  ‘Straight through my heart this fact today

  By Truth’s own hand is driven:

  God never takes one thing away,

  But something else is given.

  I did not know in earlier years

  This law of love and kindness;

  I only mourned through bitter tears

  My loss, in sorrow’s blindness.