by June Francis
Dorothy looked startled. ‘How have you heard of him?’
Hester smiled. ‘It’s a long story. I was going to ask you the name of the proprietors of your hotel. Whether it was McDonald and, if not, could you ask if they knew anyone of that name in the hotel business on Mount Pleasant.’
‘Well, you have your answer,’ said Dorothy, smiling.
‘So, what’s he like?’
‘He seems a nice bloke. He’s just returned from Scotland.’
‘Well, when you return to the hotel this evening, tell him that help is at hand.’
Dorothy stared at her. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘He’s been looking for a mother and daughter and I think the mother is my dressmaker.’
‘You’re joking!’
‘Cross my heart! I’ll get in touch with her in the morning,’ said Hester. ‘You can tell him that.’
‘Can’t you give me her address?’
‘No, I have to speak to her first,’ murmured Hester. ‘Now tell me what you want me to say to Sam if he doesn’t get in until after you’ve gone?’
‘That I’m really sorry I’ve missed him and give him a kiss for me and ask him to ring me at the Lynton,’ said Dorothy.
So with that agreed, she ate the meal Hester had cooked for her. They discussed weddings, London fashions and films. Sam still had not arrived home two hours later so Dorothy left.
Hester had been impatient for her to go because she had decided that despite the lateness of the hour, she would visit Lynne that evening. She wasted no time doing so but the door was not answered immediately. Eventually, though, a harassed-looking Lynne opened it. ‘Hester! What are you doing here?’
‘Sorry to disturb you at this time of night,’ said Hester, ‘but there’s a couple of things I need to say to you.’
‘Is this to do with the material for your wedding dress?’ asked Lynne, her eyelids drooping. ‘Because I’ve already bought the fabric you’ve chosen and I also have some samples for your sister’s dress. I was going to drop a note through your letterbox to ask the two of you to call in tomorrow evening. I’d like to check your measurements again before I start cutting.’
‘That’s fine. I’ll come about seven,’ said Hester gratefully. ‘But the main reason I called was to tell you that Stuart Anderson is staying at the Lynton Hotel. I’m sure your daughter told you about the conversation we had at Betty’s flat, so I thought you might be interested.’
‘Yes, I … I see,’ said Lynne slowly. ‘Thanks for letting me know.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Hester, smiling. ‘My brother’s girlfriend, Dorothy, told me that he’s a nice fella. I wouldn’t put off speaking to him, if I was you. He’ll be off to Europe any day now. Goodnight!’
Nine
Lynne closed the door and went back upstairs to her grandmother’s bedroom. ‘Who was that at the front door?’ asked Nan.
‘Hester Walker, whom I’m making the wedding dress for,’ she said, toying with her fingers. ‘She told me the name of the hotel where Stuart Anderson is staying.’
‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Nan. ‘If you don’t go and see him, you’ll never know why he was trying to find you.’
‘No, I won’t,’ murmured Lynne, gazing into the distance. ‘Unless …’
‘Unless what?’ asked Nan.
‘Nothing,’ sighed Lynne, kissing her grandmother and wishing her a good night’s sleep. As she was about to leave the room, she added, ‘Not a word of this to Bobby.’
The following morning after Roberta had left for school and Lynne had left Nan tacking the hems of a couple of skirts for a woman in the next street, she caught a bus into town, still in a state of indecision. She had decided long ago that she was well rid of her mother, so why allow herself to be persuaded to find out whether it was her mother who had sent this Stuart Anderson?
She found the Lynton, almost opposite the YMCA building. As she stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at the shiny brass plaque next to the door, she wondered what if her mother wanted to see her and Bobby? The very idea made her feel churned up inside and she almost turned tail and ran. Then she told herself not to be so cowardly. Nobody could force her to do what she didn’t want to do. She tried the door and found it led into a vestibule. The inner door, which was half glass, was locked but there was an electric bell in the door frame. She pressed it and a few moments later she heard hurrying footsteps. Through the glass she could see a woman coming towards her.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked on opening the door.
‘Are you the proprietor?’ asked Lynne.
‘Yes, I’m Kathy McDonald. Are you wanting a room?’
‘No, but may I speak to you for a moment?’
‘Certainly. Would you like to come into the lounge?’
Lynne followed her into a room to the right of the hall.
‘Please sit down,’ said Kathy. ‘You look worried. How can I help you?’
Lynne took a deep breath. ‘I believe you have a Mr Anderson staying here.’
‘That’s right.’ Kathy stared at her. ‘You wouldn’t be the woman he’s looking for, would you?’
Lynne hesitated. ‘It’s possible. Is he available?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Oh!’ After building herself up to face him, Lynne felt deflated. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I told myself that I wasn’t going to have anything to do with her. Forget I was here.’ She stood up and made for the door.
‘Wait!’ cried Kathy. ‘He’s a very nice man. Why don’t you leave your phone number and I’ll have him ring you.’
‘I don’t have a telephone,’ said Lynne, facing her.
For a moment the proprietor was silent, then she said, ‘Listen, have a coffee with me? Mr Anderson has gone for a walk – to clear his head, he said, and verify his travel arrangements, so he’s unlikely to be back just yet.’
Lynne hesitated and gripped her hands tightly in front of her. ‘I wish I knew what was best to do. Has he spoken to you about why he wants to find me and my daughter?’
‘I think that would be best coming from him. He was here in ‘forty-eight at Burtonwood air base, you know.’ She paused. ‘I’ll make us some coffee and you can think about what you’d like me to say to him when he returns – that’s if you really don’t want to see him.’
She left the room, leaving Lynne twiddling her thumbs and wondering whether to get out of there while she had the opportunity. She got as far as the reception when she heard the doorbell ringing. Thinking it could be Stuart Anderson returning, she felt herself panicking and then Nan’s voice in her head told her not to be such a ninny. She took a deep breath and went and opened the vestibule door.
A man stepped into the hall and she stumbled backwards. His hand shot out and he grabbed her arm and steadied her. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
Brown eyes gazed into hers from what seemed a great height and she felt really odd. Flustered, she stammered, ‘I–I’m so–sorry. I–I didn’t expect you to enter so swiftly.’
‘There’s no need to apologize,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re not Mrs McDonald, so you must be one of the guests.’
‘No, I’m not,’ she said. ‘Are … are you?’
‘No, I’m picking someone up.’
‘Then you’re a taxi driver?’ She paused. ‘No, that can’t be right.’
He grinned. ‘Why not? I could be a chauffeur with a Rolls Royce outside waiting to whisk someone off to Knowsley Hall to have lunch with Lord Derby for all you know.’
She smiled. ‘If you drove a Rolls, I don’t think you’d be picking up a guest from here. More likely the Adelphi.’
‘You’re right, of course! I was just teasing you.’
Lynne smiled. What a nice man, she thought. Handsome, too, and a nice voice. But not the American accent she’d been expecting. ‘I take it that you’re not Stuart Anderson?’
‘No, Sam Walker.’
‘Oh!’ Her jaw dropped and then she cleared her th
roat. ‘You’re Hester’s brother!’
He looked surprised. ‘That’s right. Who are you?’
‘I’m the dressmaker! Hester’s dressmaker, I mean,’ she added hastily.
‘What are you doing here? Hester’s visiting you this evening, isn’t she?’ he said, taking in her appearance with one sweeping glance from head to toe.
Having put on her best clothes, Lynne hoped he hadn’t found her wanting and then remembered he had a girlfriend and her spirits drooped.
At that moment the baize door that led to the kitchen opened and Kathy McDonald came through, carrying a tray. She paused and then came forward. ‘Mr Walker, can I help you?’
Sam removed his trilby. ‘I’ve come to see Dorothy.’
‘I think she’s up in her room. I’ll just take this through into the lounge and then I’ll go and fetch her,’ said Kathy.
‘I was hoping to speak to her privately,’ said Sam in a low voice.
She stared at him. ‘We don’t allow male visitors in the bedrooms, Mr Walker, so if you wish to have a private conversation you’ll have to use the dining room as I’m serving coffee in the lounge to this lady here.’
Lynne had never been called a lady in her life before and she had to smile. ‘Mrs Donegan,’ she said. ‘Mrs Lynne Donegan. Perhaps I can take the tray while you fetch Mr Walker’s friend.’
Kathy handed the tray to her and then hurried upstairs.
‘I think I might have shocked you both,’ murmured Sam. ‘I should have assured her that my intentions are strictly honourable.’
‘It’s really none of my business,’ said Lynne, flashing him a smile and carrying the tray into the lounge where she set it down on a coffee table. She did not realize until she was seated that he had followed her into the room.
‘I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,’ he said, pulling up a chair and sitting, facing her. ‘This Stuart Anderson. I have a feeling my sister has mentioned him but I was a bit distracted. I’ve heard your name, too. Wasn’t your daughter being followed a few weeks ago?’
For a few moments she had forgotten he was a policeman. ‘That’s right. I thought it was possible that Mr Anderson was the man following her.’
‘Do you know why?’ Sam’s brown eyes were intensely curious.
She hesitated.
‘You’re thinking it hasn’t anything to do with me,’ said Sam, picking up the coffee pot and beginning to pour. ‘How d’you like yours, black or white?’
‘I seldom drink coffee.’
‘White and with sugar then,’ he said, pushing the basin containing sugar cubes towards her.
She murmured her thanks and thought the proprietor was going to have to fetch another cup. She dropped in four sugar lumps and sipped her coffee before saying, ‘It’s possible that he’s come from my mother. She married a Yank but we lost touch.’
‘So he’s come to give you news of your mother? Are you glad about that?’
She was silent, watching as he reached for a biscuit. ‘I haven’t spoken to my mother since 1941,’ she said abruptly. ‘Not once has she tried to find out how we were getting on.’
‘You found that hard?’
She felt tears well in her eyes and now she was wishing he would go away. Why had she told him that? Probably because he was a policeman and used to giving criminals the third degree, dragging information out of them that they’d rather keep to themselves.
‘Sam!’
The voice startled them both and instantly he put down his cup and rose to his feet. ‘Dorothy!’
Lynne gazed at the attractive blonde standing in the lounge doorway with a smile pinned on her scarlet lips. Then she saw the smile die.
‘Who’s this, Sam?’ asked Dorothy.
‘Mrs Donegan, Hester’s dressmaker. She’s here to see Stuart Anderson.’
Dorothy took a deep breath. ‘Sam, perhaps we should go out and eat somewhere to have our little talk, which means I need to go back to my room and get my coat and hat.’ She hurried back upstairs before he could say anything.
Her rudeness made Lynne feel uncomfortable.
‘More coffee?’ asked Kathy, breaking the silence.
Lynne shook her head. ‘No thank you.
‘I should have introduced you and Dorothy properly,’ said Sam.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Lynne lightly. ‘My grandmother used to work in the theatre as a dresser and for a short while after my daughter was born, we both travelled with her.’
‘You’re saying you’re used to the odd ways of actresses?’ said Sam.
She smiled and stood up, facing the proprietor. ‘I must go. Please, Mrs McDonald, let me pay for the coffee?’
‘I wouldn’t hear of it,’ she said firmly. ‘But do you have to go before Mr Anderson returns?’
‘I must. I have work to do.’ Lynne took a card from her handbag and handed it to her. ‘I’d appreciate it if you could give that to him. Tell him I’ll be at home this evening. Thank you again for the coffee and your kindness.’ She turned to Sam. ‘Goodbye, Mr Walker, it was nice meeting you.’ She left the hotel, almost wishing she had never come.
Ten
Dorothy felt light-headed, remembering she had forgotten what Hester said about her dressmaker possibly being the person Stuart Anderson was looking for. Why did it have to happen now? After all these years, to meet that girl Lynne again and for her not only to have a connection with the American, but also with Hester!
Yet surely if Lynne had recognized her then she would have made some comment? Not that Dorothy had given her time to speak. Hopefully she had not recognized her but if they happened to see each other again, then Lynne might begin to question whether they had met before. She wondered what the other woman was saying to Sam right now and whether it had been a mistake leaving them together the way she had.
She could feel a headache coming on, so took a couple of Aspro with a glass of water. She put on her new red coat with the black fur collar and a small neat black hat with a half veil. With a trembling hand she applied more lipstick. Then, taking a deep breath, she picked up her handbag and went downstairs.
Relief flooded through her because there was no sign of Lynne, only Sam standing in the lobby, looking rapt in thought. For once she hoped he was thinking of a case: a series of robberies perhaps, or a juicy murder. She cleared her throat and he raised his eyes to where she hovered on the stairs.
‘You look well, Sam,’ she said, smiling.
‘So do you. Obviously you enjoyed your time in London.’ His tone was cool and he made no effort to walk over and swing her down from the stairs as he might have done once.
‘I wish you’d been there, Sam.’ Her lips quivered. ‘I really missed you. I’d have liked to have introduced you to my agent and shown you London.’ She walked over to him and kissed him but he did not respond and her heart sank.
‘I’m not a great one for shopping,’ he muttered. ‘That’s a new coat, isn’t it?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Sam, I have to dress smart, it goes with the job.’
‘You’re saying your public expect it of you,’ said Sam, taking out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Smoke?’
She hesitated and took one. ‘Don’t let’s light up until we’re out of here. Kathy McDonald is of a mind that the smoke impregnates the furnishings and colours the ceiling and paintwork.’
Sam put the packet of Players away. ‘Let’s go to the Philharmonic pub. I’m hungry and we can get something to eat there.’
‘OK, it’s not that far to walk in these heels.’
Sam glanced down at her black patent leather, high-heeled, open-toed shoes but made no comment as he opened the vestibule door and indicated that she go before him.
When they reached the pavement Sam lit their cigarettes and she linked her arm through his and they smoked in silence as they walked in the direction of Hardman Street.
Only after they had finished their cigarettes did she say, ‘Please, don’t be angry with me, Sam. It was essential that I
stayed in London. I wasn’t just enjoying myself, you know!’
‘So what were you doing that was work, besides the audition and discussing the part with your agent? Going to the theatre, shopping, seeing old friends?’
She knew that tone of voice and her fingers tightened on his arm. ‘Believe me, Sam, one has to do these things. Liverpool is in the sticks when compared to London and I needed to hear all the gossip.’
‘Lynne Donegan’s grandmother used to be a theatrical dresser,’ said Sam.
‘Lynne Donegan, who’s she?’ asked Dorothy with feigned innocence.
‘The woman you were rude to by charging back upstairs without saying a word. Hester’s dressmaker! Don’t pretend you didn’t notice her. She certainly noticed you.’
‘Most people do,’ said Dorothy, sounding amused. ‘But they can be so gushing.’
‘I don’t think she’s the gushing type. If she stared, it’s possible that she recognized you from years ago.’
Dorothy’s heart seemed to jerk against her ribs. ‘Did she say where?’
‘I told you her grandmother was a dresser and Mrs Donegan and her daughter travelled with her,’ said Sam.
‘So possibly she saw me in some theatre or other,’ said Dorothy, stretching up and kissing Sam to conceal her relief. ‘Let’s forget about her for now? You mustn’t be cross about my getting this part, darling.’
‘Darling!’ murmured Sam, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down at her. ‘You’ve never called me that before.’
‘Well, you are my darling,’ she retorted. ‘And the money will come in really useful when we tie the knot, without you breaking the bank.’
‘I’m not interested in your money,’ said Sam. ‘I can support both of us. I just want to know when you’re going to give it up and settle down.’
She hesitated. ‘I want to make this film and produce that documentary set in Liverpool. If you love me, surely that’s not too much to ask for?’
‘Two can play the love game,’ he said, as they arrived outside the Philharmonic pub, a marvel of Victorian architecture. ‘If you love me …’ he began only to be interrupted.
