Death Treads the Boards

by Lesley Cookman

  As Will entered the foyer, a well-dressed man rose from the seats ranged against the wall.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ he said, in a soft cultured voice. ‘I would like to speak to the proprietor of this concert party. As I am in a similar way of business in London, I am sure we would have much to say to each other.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Will kept a straight face and opened the auditorium doors. ‘Allow me to present Miss Alexander.’

  Dorinda stepped forward and the man’s jaw dropped.

  ‘Miss...?’ he repeated, in a strangled gasp.

  ‘I am the proprietor,’ said Dorinda. ‘How may I assist you?’

  The man closed his mouth with a snap. ‘But -’ he began, and stopped.

  ‘If you have some business with me, perhaps we should step into the office.’ Dorinda opened the door. ‘Maude, perhaps you would accompany us?’

  The man cleared his throat. ’Er – I think I may have been misinformed,’ he said quickly. ‘I am sorry to have bothered you.’ And without another word, he whipped round and through the main doors.

  ‘Well!’ said Dorinda. ‘What do you make of that?’

  Will was scowling. ‘Whatever it was, it wasn’t fit for a woman’s ears.’

  ‘No.’ Dorinda nodded. ‘But what?’

  Maude shook her head. ‘He wanted a woman, of course. One of ours.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Dorinda was shocked.

  ‘Obvious, isn’t it? He comes to see the manager and when he finds it’s a woman he scarpers.’

  ‘But surely,’ said Dorinda, thinking hard, ‘a female proprietor of a concert party could be just as dishonourable as a male one? Think of all the women...’

  ‘Yes, dear, I know.’ Maude patted her arm. ‘But ladies aren’t suppose to know about things like that, are they?’

  ‘Women who run concert parties do,’ said Dorinda grimly.

  ‘You know what I think?’ said Will. ‘I think Aramantha was working in one of those Night Houses.’

  ‘They was done away with over twenty years ago, Will,’ said Maude repressively.

  ‘What are Night Houses?’ asked Dorinda.

  Maude frowned a ‘now see what you’ve done’ frown at her husband and ushered Dorinda into the office.

  ‘Night houses, duck,’ she said, sitting opposite Dorinda at the desk, ‘were like regular clubs. All posh, like, chandeliers, everything. But they were for one reason and one reason only.’

  ‘And they’ve been stopped?’ Now it was Dorinda’s turn to frown. ‘But...’

  ‘They weren’t regular brothels, Dolly, and yes, I know there are still brothels, but they’re illegal, aren’t they? Well so are Night Houses. You know the Act twenty-odd years ago? Made all that sort of thing illegal, but it’s reckoned they just went underground. A lot of them – well, they weren’t...’ Maude was obviously searching for the right word.

  ‘So you knew about them when Aramantha first turned up?’

  ‘I told you. Will and I were taken to a couple that were supposed to be regular old-fashioned halls. We reckoned we knew what they were.’

  ‘And this was where Aramantha was.’ Dorinda frowned. She looked up at Maude. ‘But you think it was worse than just... that. Men wanting women.’

  Maude nodded slowly.

  ‘Are you going to tell me?’ asked Dorinda.

  ‘I can’t, Dolly.’ Maude had turned a flustered pink.

  Dorinda watched her thoughtfully for a minute. ‘I see,’ she said finally. ‘And do you think that gentleman has something to do with one of those places?’

  Maude shrugged. ‘Could be. Scared of something, wasn’t he? He said he was in a similar way of business.’

  ‘But he meant a concert party,’ said Dorinda.

  ‘Did he?’ said Will. ‘I’m not so sure of that.’

  Dorinda nodded slowly. ‘Do you think I should tell Inspector Colyer?’

  ‘I don’t know, Dolly. Maybe.’

  After Maude had left the office, Dorinda sat for a long time staring at the telephone. Thoughts were tumbling around her head in complete confusion, and the only way she could think of sorting them into some kind of order, was to tell Jack Colyer.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Will went with Maude to buy the pies that afternoon. Were they all getting worried, wondered Dorinda? She had tried to minimise speculation about Aramantha, the murder and the frequent visits from the police, but it was inevitable that the unease would spread.

  She watched as Will and Maude reappeared at the top of the slope and started in surprise as she realised that following behind was Constable Fred Fowler. He wheeled his bicycle down the slope instead of chaining it to the railings as usual. Was he becoming nervous, too?

  She was seated once more behind the desk when Maude brought her pie in.

  ‘Will told Fred,’ she announced, with a slightly defiant air. ‘He’s come down to have a word.’

  ‘All right, Maudie.’ Dorinda smiled at her lieutenant. ‘Send him in.’

  Constable Fred sidled into the office, clapping his helmet in front in him.

  ‘Will and Maude told you about the gentleman who came to see us earlier, did they, Constable?’ Dorinda knew better than to ask him to sit. He never did.

  ‘Yes, Miss.’ He frowned. ‘They wasn’t sure what he wanted.’

  ‘No. He wouldn’t say.’ Dorinda gazed wistfully at her rapidly cooling pie. ‘He was disconcerted when he realised that I was the owner of the company.’

  ‘He – what?’

  ‘He was surprised. We thought he’d come to ask for something, but when he realised I was a woman, he turned tail and left.’

  ‘What would he want?’ asked Fred. Then he stopped and frowned again. ‘Oh, I see.’ He nodded wisely. ‘People still think it’s not quite right, don’t they?’

  ‘Do they? Oh – I see what you mean! Some people still think all actresses and dancers are no better than they should be. Yes, that’s true, but I think he wanted something specific – I mean,’ she corrected herself hastily, ‘something special.’

  ‘But...’ began Constable Fred. He stopped and shook his head. ‘I dunno, Miss. Some o’ the things I’ve heard about -they don’t seem natural, to me. Is that what you’re thinking?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Dorinda, not at all sure what exactly she was thinking.

  ‘I think I’d better tell the inspector.’ Fred put back his shoulders decisively. ‘Before he goes back to London.’

  ‘Has he been staying down here?’ asked Dorinda, feeling a definite sense of relief.

  ‘At The Albion, Miss. Very respectable house. If you’ll pardon me, I’ll just go and see if I can catch him.’

  ‘I hope you do, Constable,’ said Dorinda. She watched him out of the door, and as he laboriously pushed his bicycle up the slope, before falling hungrily on her pie.

  It was unsurprising, then, that shortly before the evening performance was due to start, Colyer himself appeared in the foyer.

  ‘I’ m just about to go on,’ Dorinda told him, with her hand on the auditorium door.

  ‘Your mysterious guest of this afternoon isn’t in the audience, is he?’ Colyer asked.

  ‘No, Maude would have told me straight away – she sees everyone in. Can I go now?’

  ‘Don’t let any of the young ladies go home on their own tonight,’ he said abruptly, and left.

  Dorinda worried about this admonition with half her brain, while concentrating on the slightly below-par performance of the company with the other. Hardly surprising, she thought, that they were unnerved, although the three men were as cheerfully brash as ever. At the end of the evening she made sure that they all left together, and she, Maude and Will watched them go up the slope, cross to Cliff Steps and eventually up the steps to the door of Cliff House.

  ‘Much easier to keep an eye on them,’ said Will with a nod of satisfaction, turning to check the inside of The Alexandria and the back door to the outside gallery.

  ‘I just wish
we didn’t have to keep an eye on them,’ said Dorinda, skewering her hat onto her head.

  ‘Mmm.’ Maude was still staring up at Victoria Place.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Dorinda turned to look at her friend. ‘What have you seen?’

  ‘Oh – nothing.’ Maude pulled herself together with a slight shake of her head. ‘I was just wondering if we could have kept Aramantha any safer if they’d already moved to Cliff House.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ said Dorinda. ‘After all, she seems to have left of her own accord, hasn’tshe?’

  ‘But someone might have seen her. We might have done.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dorinda doubtfully, ‘but we wouldn’t have been watching, would we?’

  ‘No.’ Maude heaved a sigh as Will rejoined them.

  ‘Come on, then. Let’s go home.’

  By Friday morning the weather had changed from the typical June sunshine of the previous few days to cloudy grey skies, and sea whipped to ice cream peaks along the shoreline. Dorinda left the lodgings early, intending to call in at Cliff House to see if Ada had anything to report. However, on her way towards Cliff Terrace she was surprised to see Constable Robert pedalling furiously towards her along the high street.

  ‘Constable?’ she said, as he came to a breathless halt in front of her. ‘Have you any news?’

  ‘Not exactly, Miss,’ he panted. ‘But Inspector Colyer wanted to tell you, Miss, that we’ve got a boy reported missing.’

  ‘Oh?’ Dorinda was bewildered. ‘I’m sorry, of course...’

  ‘No – see, it’s not that!’ Constable Robert was struggling. ‘He said – the inspector, that is – it was important. He said you needed to know.’

  ‘And he didn’t say why?’

  ‘No, Miss!’ Now Constable Robert looked as bewildered as Dorinda. Clearly, he had expected her to know the relevance of the missing boy.

  ‘All right, Constable, you can tell him you’ve told me.’ Dorinda smiled at the perspiring constable, who thankfully remounted his bicycle and pedalled more slowly off in the direction of the police station.

  Dorinda continued in the direction of Cliff Terrace, thinking hard. Why was a missing boy relevant to either the murder of Brother Anarawd or the disappearance of Aramantha?

  When Ada opened the door to Dorinda’s knock, it was clear that she had news to import.

  ‘That policeman’s been ’ere,’ she announced, before Dorinda had even spoken.

  ‘About a missing boy?’ Dorinda was sorry to take the wind out of Ada’s sails, as she saw the latter’s face fall.

  ‘Yeah – how did you know?’

  ‘I met Constable Fowler Junior on the high street. He was coming to tell me.’

  ‘But why?’ Ada pulled Dorinda inside. ‘Come in the kitchen – do you mind?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  Dorinda followed down the long dark hall and down the steps into the kitchen, where it was even darker.

  ‘Why did the inspector come here?’ Dorinda asked, as she settled herself at the huge scrubbed table.

  ‘To warn us. But as I told ’im, we ain’t got no boys, ’ave we?’ Dorinda had to hide a smile at the ‘we’. In all of four days, Ada had identified herself completely with The Alexandrians.

  ‘No, Ada, we haven’t. But what is it about boys? We don’t get boys in music hall at all, do we?’

  Ada looked away. ‘N-no... ’

  ‘What is it? Come on, Ada, you know something.’

  ‘It’s just... well,’ Ada turned back to Dorinda and continued in a rush, ‘you remember we all told you about the sort of places Ethel – Aramantha – was workin’?’

  Dorinda nodded.

  ‘Well, see, it wasn’t only women...’ Ada was now regarding Dorinda with fearful eyes.

  Dorinda felt the colour recede from her face as the blood drained from her head. She felt almost faint for a moment and had to look down at her hands gripping the edge of the table, until everything swam back into focus.

  ‘You all right, Dolly?’ Ada’s anxious voice reached through the fog.

  ‘Yes.’ Dorinda managed to look up. She took a deep breath and nodded. ‘You mean it wasn’t just women men went there for?’

  Ada shook her head.

  ‘Other men?’

  ‘Not just men.’ Ada’s voice was now just a whisper.

  ‘Oh, God.’ Dorinda put her head in her hands.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dolly.’ Dorinda felt Ada’s warm hand on her shoulder. ‘’Ere, I’ll get us a cup o’ tea.’

  By the time there was a cup of strong, dark brown tea in front of her, Dorinda had recovered. ‘Tell me, Ada, does everybody know about this sort of thing?’

  Ada looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, everyone ’oo’s in the business. Everyone knows all the villains in London ’ang around the ‘Alls. It don’t get talked about, like, but people knows.’

  ‘So all my girls know?’

  Ada nodded again. ‘I don’t say as they know the ins and outs like, but they know it ’appens.’

  ‘And Aramantha definitely knew,’ said Dorinda.

  ‘Oh, yes. You’ve only got to remember what she and Martha used to do.’

  Dorinda had every reason to remember this episode from last year’s season.

  ‘She ran away then, too, didn’t she?’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly runnin’ away, was it?’ said Ada. ‘An’ we dunno if she’s run away this time, either.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that!’ moaned Dorinda.

  ‘Anyways, I still dunno why that inspector wanted to warn us. I mean, it ain’t like it is at ’ome, is it?’ Ada gazed out of the barred window at the feet of people walking along Cliff Terrace.

  ‘No.’ Dorinda stood up. ‘Will you tell the girls – and Ted and Algy – what the inspector said?’

  ‘O ‘course,’ said Ada. ‘You sure you’re all right, Dolly?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Ada.’ In truth, Dorinda admitted to herself that she still felt somewhat shaky, and as she climbed the steps from the basement door to Cliff Terrace she had to take several deep breaths. Her imagination was still refusing to come to terms with what Ada had told her, but she knew it would come back to haunt her.

  She was surprised, as she descended Cliff Steps, to see a small band of Brother Anarawd’s former followers, including the women she thought of as Short and Tall, gathered together near the top of the slope to The Alexandria.

  ‘Not again,’ she muttered under her breath.

  ‘Miss Alexander.’

  Dorinda stopped in surprise.

  ‘I hear one of your employees has gone missing.’ Short regarded her with malevolently bright eyes. ‘Just after Brother Anarawd was murdered.’

  Rightly guessing the inference she was supposed to draw, Dorinda refused to do so.

  ‘Yes,’ she said brightly. ‘One hopes that the murderer hasn’t killed our Miss Giles, too.’

  Short opened her mouth but no sound came out, only a look of surprised hatred in her eyes. Predictably, Tall uttered a low moan.

  ‘And perhaps this boy, too?’ said Short, recovering her tongue.

  Dorinda inclined her head. ‘Do excuse me,’ she said politely, and set off down the slope.

  Slightly unnerved by this encounter, Dorinda spent the next couple hours trawling through bills and accounts and wishing she could afford to pay someone else to do it. The rest of the company filtered in, but Dorinda could not bring herself to discuss what Ada had said with any of them, even Maude. Eventually, the afternoon’s audience began to arrive, and Dorinda donned her pierrot costume then made her way through the auditorium, acknowledged the smattering of applause with a small bow and took her seat at the piano. Throughout the first half of the programme she endeavoured to put all her worries about small boys, Jessie, and Aramantha out of her mind, although she only partly succeeded. It was when Jessie came on in her guise as the urchin that she suddenly sat up with a start, almost losing her place in the song. Jessie cast her a nervous look
from the stage, but carried on valiantly until she left the stage to resume her pierrot costume for the last chorus before the interval.

  Dorinda played the final chord, once again acknowledged the applause, and hurried round to the dressing room area.

  ‘Jessie,’ she said, stopping the girl as she was about to start her change into evening dress. ‘I’m sorry about that -just now. I had a thought.’

  ‘Oh?’ Jessie looked nervous. ‘It doesn’t matter...’

  ‘No – listen.’ Dorinda sat down on one of the huge costume trugs and pulled Jessie down beside her. ‘Did you perform that urchin song in London?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jessie. ‘Why?’

  ‘Did you perform any others as a child? Say, as a schoolboy? Or a cabin boy?’

  ‘Yes – I did the schoolboy and a climber.’

  ‘Climber?’ echoed Dorinda.

  ‘Chimney sweep’s boy,’ said Betty, making Dorinda aware that the whole company was listening.

  ‘Did you want me to do some different songs, then?’ asked Jessie. ‘Only I ain’t got the music for ’em – we’d ’ave to work it out like we did for the others.’

  ‘No.’ Dorinda patted her hand. ‘I’d like to hear them, though. Carry on and get changed.’

  Jessie dived behind the screen as if she couldn’t get away fast enough, and Maude took her place. ‘What’s up?’ she murmured. ‘What’s upset you?’

  ‘I was just thinking,’ said Dorinda, ‘about what you said about people wanting something different.’ She glanced quickly sideways. ‘And I thought about...’ She took a deep breath. ‘Well, Jessie singing songs as a small boy.’

  Maude stared. ‘What do you know about that?’ she whispered eventually. ‘About – boys?’

  ‘Not very much. But I know there were men who...’ She stopped.

  ‘And men who found them.’ Maude sounded vicious.

  ‘But it all stopped, didn’t it?’ Dorinda knew what the answer would be, but she couldn’t help asking.

  ‘The same as everything else, I expect. Went underground. ‘Maude was looking at the floor now. ‘I always thought we’d be away from it all down here. You know, clean air, nice people...’