Stratford Jewel

by Oliver, Marina

  'When did it happen?' he asked, after he'd managed to reduce the first eruption of grief into more controlled weeping. 'Celia, have some tea,' he urged, smiling a distracted thanks to Winnie.

  Rosa poured. 'A few months after Celia left, in March,' she said calmly.

  Celia's sobs grew louder again. 'I'm to blame, he must have been so distraught. Oh, I'm so wicked!'

  'Of course you aren't,' Gilbert began, but Celia interrupted him.

  'I'm no better than a murderess, and I haven't known for six whole months.'

  Rosa's fists clenched and hastily she set down the delicate china cup and saucer. She longed to slap her sister out of her hysterics, point out it was Celia's fault she had not known, but she recognised that Gilbert's tactics, a judicious mixture of cajolery and reassurance, were working. She waited in grim silence, unaware that Max had risen and was holding her hand in a comforting clasp. Celia sat up, wiped her eyes, and in trembling tones asked to know exactly what had happened.

  Rosa explained. 'It was a dreadful accident. But I believe the punt knocked him unconscious before he was swept over the weir, so he wouldn't have known what was happening.'

  'He wouldn't learn to swim properly. He always said he was too old when he made us learn at Rhyl. I was ten and you were eight. It was when Jack joined the army, and the holiday was to distract Mother.'

  'Have your tea,' Gilbert said gently. Celia smiled wanly and allowed him to get up and fetch it. He returned for his own cup which Rosa silently handed to him and stood by the table, with Max, sipping the tea. 'How did you escape?'

  'By great good fortune Adam was riding by with friends. Adam Thorn, you know him. He pulled me out. They tried to save Father, but it was too late. He'd been swept over the weir and caught in some weeds.'

  'Is Jack running the business?'

  'I'm helping in the office. I occasionally helped Father, it was easier than employing a clerk. Jack goes out as he always did.' Rosa was trying to find words for telling Celia about her father's action cutting her out of his will, but before she could do so Celia spoke.

  'Then you wouldn't have been in the Festival. Poor Rosa. Still, you couldn't have been if you were still in mourning. Gilbert, what about the performance tonight? Oh, what shall I do? It's our first this week!'

  Gilbert cast a pleading look at Rosa. She shrugged. 'The show must go on,' she said, her voice steady. 'Celia, you're a professional. And although you've only just heard it was six months ago.'

  'People will think I'm heartless, and really I'm devastated.'

  'Better to be busy,' Rosa said tiredly. 'You can mourn in between performances. I didn't have time to mourn before dealing with the office routine.'

  'That's true. And no one will know it's only today I heard. Unless you've made a great mystery out of where I was?'

  Celia was recovering rapidly. Rosa didn't doubt her sincerity. She was shocked and saddened by the news of her father's death, but single-minded about her ambitions. It would help nobody if Celia refused to appear on stage, and she did wish her sister well. She'd take the tickets and go to see the play. Celia could be told about the will afterwards.

  'You must go on. You can do it,' she said as reassuringly as she could, and was rewarded by a brilliant smile. Celia couldn't have the least notion of how searingly her jealousy was biting into her. If only she could so light-heartedly cast off her family, her responsibilities, her duty towards her father's memory, and pursue her own ambitions. She'd always known she had greater talent than Celia, greater depth to her acting, and could succeed in a greater variety of roles, both comic and tragic. Now, it seemed, her flighty sister would achieve success while she remained at home, Martha keeping the fires burning.

  Gilbert smiled gratefully at her. 'You must come and see us,' he said. 'You too, Max. We brought tickets for tomorrow.'

  *

  Max remained behind when Celia left. Winnie had retreated to the kitchen with the tray, and Rosa was staring out of the window, her back rigid and her hands clenched.

  'Of all the selfish, thoughtless creatures,' he exploded.

  Rosa relaxed and gave him a rueful smile. 'It's Celia,' she said. 'I'm used to her.'

  They were both silent, recalling their last uncomfortable meeting. Then Max impulsively put out his hand. 'Rosa – '

  'I'm sorry I was so abrupt,' she began at the same time. 'I had a lot on my mind, that day.'

  Seeing her, talking to her, brought back the fierce longing to take her in his arms. But he wasn't free. 'Let me understand, Celia had gone before your father died, and you and Jack are left to run the business. Does that mean you haven't acted since then?'

  Rosa nodded. 'Let's sit down. I couldn't have taken part in this year's Festival, it was too soon.'

  'My poor Rosa! And Celia, who hasn't half your talent, is now a professional. Oughtn't she, as the eldest daughter, to take on more responsibility now she does know the situation?'

  'I couldn't ask it, and she wouldn't agree,' Rosa said with a faint laugh. 'You see, my father was so angry he disinherited her, though she doesn't know yet. I shall give her half my share. Besides, the business needs me. If she were in the office nothing would get done. Or rather it would get into an even more dreadful state than when Jack is left in charge.'

  'Jack doesn't seem to be pulling his weight.'

  'It isn't his fault,' Rosa said swiftly. 'He was dreadfully affected by the war, he hates the office, is only happy – if he's ever truly happy, which I sometimes doubt – driving about the countryside on his own. Though his latest purchase hasn't yet reached the stage of being driven.'

  Max was so attentive, Rosa found it easy to tell him about Jack's disastrous purchase of Satan and continuing attempts to break the animal to harness.

  'Sounds a completely unsound animal.'

  'Oh, he is! And he's eating half the profits, it sometimes feels.'

  'Get rid of him.'

  'Sell him? No one would buy such a broken down monster. Besides, he's Jack's, I couldn't.'

  'He belongs to the business, and you and Celia, if you give her part of your share, which I don't think she deserves, have an equal say in how it's run. Presumably she'd agree with you. Sell him, give him away, or send him to the knacker's.'

  Rosa looked at him curiously. 'Is that what you'd do?'

  'If necessary, yes.'

  Rosa sighed. 'I couldn't have him put down. It isn't his fault he's such a wreck. And no one in their right minds would accept him as a gift. And Jack would be utterly livid.'

  'You're too soft-hearted. Maybe that's why I like you so much.' Rosa blushed, and Max told himself he was a fool, but he continued. 'Would you mind if I took the ticket Celia offered me for her play?'

  'Of course not. But why are you here? The competition entries were handed in months ago, weren't they?'

  'At the end of June. I'm building picture houses, and came to look at possible sites in Stratford.'

  'Did your firm enter the competition? Are you allowed to tell me about your plan?'

  'It's a long, narrow site. The partner who was doing the main design died, so it was mostly mine in the end. I've made the design long and low, highest at the broadest part of the triangle, to accommodate the flies, and gradually diminishing as it sweeps towards the point. It's high enough for the dress circle and balcony, though they won't be as far up as they usually are. We'll get enough seats with the Elizabethan pattern of an almost circular auditorium, very much like the old theatre.'

  'That'll be a better shape for actors. I didn't like the Picture House stage, it felt like being behind a window.'

  'The cinema style. I envisage the outside as an echo of Tudor half-timbered buildings, but instead of wood and plaster made from concrete beams and glass inserts. It would be appropriate for the town, fitting in, but modern, and the stage design is capable of any technical production.'

  'When will the results be known?'

  'In a few months. The final choice will be made by three assessors, from
a short list chosen by a committee.'

  Rosa was enthusiastic. 'Your design sounds good, modern materials that still harmonise with the town.'

  'I hope so, but there are about seventy entries. In the end, despite all the preparation, ours was rushed because of Abe's death.'

  *

  Winnie insisted on remaining with Rosa after the performance when she told Celia she'd been cut out of her father's will. Max had accepted her assurance that she didn't need his support, and left for his own hotel, but she could not detach Winnie.

  'I'm staying. She was my baby, and she'll be upset, need comfort.'

  Which Gilbert would be better able to provide, Rosa suspected, a spurt of amusement lightening her gloom.

  Celia was devastated. 'He did what?' she screamed. 'My own father disinherited me? He can't. I won't let it happen.'

  'I mean to give you half my share,' Rosa explained when Celia's sobs had quietened. 'I think I may be able to persuade Jack to share too, we'll all have the same, as Father would have done if – if he'd lived long enough to forgive you.'

  This enraged Celia still further. 'You're offering what's mine by right as charity,' she stormed. 'Then I'll be forever having to show gratitude to my younger sister. It's unsupportable.'

  Eventually Rosa left, almost dragging Winnie away. Gilbert showed them out, taking them down a long dusty passage to the stage door.

  'Don't worry, I'll talk her round,' he promised. 'I'll make her write and apologise.'

  'And he will,' Winnie predicted with sour satisfaction. 'He won't let her throw away a share in a good business. He's got his hooks into her right enough, my poor lamb.'

  Winnie might have been less sympathetic if she'd been present for the next hour, during which even Gilbert's patience almost snapped.

  'I'll pay Rosa back, you see if I don't,' Celia vowed.

  'Don't do anything foolish, my love,' Gilbert pleaded. 'It was a generous offer, and if you had money from the business we could wait for the next good part instead of taking anything which offered. That's how to be a star.'

  Celia shook her head. 'No. I'll make her sorry she insulted me. When is it we go to Coventry? Quickly, Gilbert, tell me when.'

  *

  Max frowned over the letter, then picked up the other from his mother and read it again. After a good deal of family news and accounts of all the social activities in Woodstock, she once more urged him to try and return to Virginia in time for Thanksgiving. She mentioned Jenny only once, to say she was appearing in some amateur theatricals put on to raise money for his theatre in Stratford. He shrugged off her pressure to go home. Every letter contained thinly veiled references to his prolonged absences, gentle hints about neglecting his family, glowing accounts of how attentive her other children were, and usually wistful mentions of Jenny's loneliness and heroic patience considering his inexplicable neglect. These mentions had been omitted from this letter and Max, accustomed to them and bracing himself not to permit them to influence him, was puzzled.

  He reread Jenny's letter. It was no love missive, but Jenny was a well-brought up girl, she wouldn't write of such matters. But she didn't express the slightest sense of missing him, or mention his return. The letter was more stilted than her earlier ones, but she still conveyed her sense of excitement at participating in the Shakespeare plays they had chosen for the winter season.

  Something odd was happening, he was sure, but he was by no means anxious to return home. The shortlist for the competition would not be announced until November, at least two months, and he had a lot of work to do for some clients of Mr Sambourne's. If possible he'd go home for Thanksgiving.

  He pushed aside the puzzle about Jenny's letter. He could obtain no clues to her feelings for him, and he was more concerned with Rosa's problems.

  Jack, it appeared, was behaving irrationally. This latest example, though more serious than previous bizarre actions, was not an isolated one. When he'd left Rosa he'd talked to Sid and his uncle, and while reluctant to betray their employer they were worried enough eventually to confide in Max. They had known Jack far longer than he had, and agreed he was both doing and saying strange things, yet appeared to forget them within hours. Max wondered whether his two doctor uncles could throw any light on it, and sat down to write to them.

  *

  Celia posted the letters with a smile of anticipation. That should stir up something, she gloated. Rosa had believed her protestations of regret, had even arranged with the solicitor to give half her share in the business to Celia. If positions were reversed she wouldn't have been so foolish, not unless Jack had agreed to split his share too.

  Thinking of Jack she frowned. He hadn't listened to Rosa.

  'I'm a man, and the eldest,' he'd maintained. 'I should by rights have it all.'

  Celia was still furious at his intransigence, but for the moment couldn't think of any scheme for revenge. If he liked Agnes, which at one time she'd half suspected, her plot might affect him, but she couldn't be sure.

  She walked back to their lodgings. Gilbert was reading a magazine article about the development of the Fox 'movietone' news films, but he turned to smile as she went into the room.

  'Did you do your shopping?'

  Celia nodded and opened the box. 'I found a wonderful dress, a tube shape with tiny straps. It's a heavenly pale blue. And just look at all these beads and sequins,' she added, pulling away the tissue paper and holding the dress in front of her.

  'Perfect for Christmas parties,' Gilbert agreed.

  Celia's brow creased slightly. 'Darling, you know it doesn't matter to me, but in Stratford they have utterly antiquated notions. I truly believe Winnie will collapse with horror when we share a room.'

  'Then we won't, my love. I'll creep along the passageway when everyone else is in bed. That will be exciting,' he promised, taking the new dress from her and pulling her into his arms.

  Celia pushed him away, laughing. 'You don't understand. She'll expect me to share Rosa's room. It was mine too and there's only one guest room. We didn't even have that when Father was alive.'

  He heaved an exaggerated sigh. 'Then for two nights, my precious, we'll have to restrain our ardour.'

  'We could pretend to be married.'

  Gilbert stepped away from her, his hand clutching his brow. 'Alas! I am undone! Trapped into wedlock when I swore I would never abandon the bachelor state.'

  Celia giggled. 'I said pretend. I don't want to be married any more than you do, that would be frightfully boring. But we could have fun hoodwinking them all.'

  'Would Winnie ask to see your marriage lines, or would a sixpenny ring from Woolworth's fool them?'

  'A ring, and we'll be passionate newly-weds. You'll be the most devoted husband, you'll scowl dreadfully if anyone flirts with me.'

  'Pistols at dawn. Are the meadows by the river suitable, or should we fight over the ashes of the old theatre? But when, and where did we get married?' he asked, suddenly serious. 'And why didn't we tell anyone, invite them to come?'

  Celia picked up her dress and pirouetted round the room. 'When I was twenty-one, and thought Father might stop it.'

  'He couldn't have. And that was before we went to see them. Why didn't we tell them then?'

  Celia frowned. 'Oh, I don't know. Why does it matter?'

  'You were too devastated,' Gilbert suggested.

  'That will do. I'll write and tell them in a week or so.'

  'You could tell them when they come to see the play in Coventry.'

  She smiled. 'So I could. I'd forgotten that.'

  *

  Jack, normally unperceptive, soon noticed that Adam hadn't been to the house so often since Celia's visit home, while Max came whenever he was in Stratford or nearby.

  'Have you and Adam quarrelled?' he demanded one evening. 'All for the best, so far as I'm concerned. Does he resent the Yankee boy?'

  'I imagine he's busy,' Rosa replied coolly. She didn't want to tell Jack of the row when Adam had discovered she and Max
were planning to go to a Birmingham theatre on the same night as Celia had sent him a ticket for Coventry.

  'Had his nose put out of joint.' Jack sneered. 'That's nothing to what he'll feel later on, when I'm ready.'

  'Ready for what? Jack, you're talking in riddles.'

  Jack refused to explain. Rosa shrugged it off, for often lately he'd begun to say something and then appeared to think better of it. She had too much on her mind to puzzle over cryptic remarks.

  She was thankful Adam was maintaining what she imagined was a hurt silence. She was treating him badly, leading him on and then rejecting him on their visit to London. She still blushed all over when she recalled her shameless behaviour. But after her father's death they had made it up, and when he once more kissed her she had not protested, and gradually his embraces had grown warmer. Again she had neglected him when Max reappeared, and now it seemed as though she'd chosen Max instead of wanting to go with Adam to see Celia.

  The worst part of it was that she'd enjoyed Adam's embraces. She wondered whether she would feel the same with Max. He, however, on the occasions when they went out together, which were becoming frequent, behaved with scrupulous correctness. He didn't touch her apart from helping her in and out of the baby Austin he'd bought, or when they danced, or to guide her through doors and to tables in restaurants. She didn't know whether to be relieved or sorry he hadn't again kissed her. Whenever they were together she found herself thinking back to that delicious evening, knowing that the scent of lilac would always remind her of his bewitching kisses. Then she berated herself for an abandoned hussy, and tried to concentrate on what he'd been saying.

  Max was full of ideas for the new theatre, but concerned that in the confusion after Abe's death their entry had not been as good as it should have been. He was impatient for the shortlist to be announced, but always ready to listen to Rosa's problems. And apart from Adam's attitude she had many.

  A few days after their first theatre trip to Birmingham, Max had called and found her bathing Jack's rapidly closing eye.