Reprise

by Claire Rayner

  ‘Coffee,’ Theo said fussily. ‘And put it in a decent cup, for Christ’s sake – don’t make it yourself, go down to Chubby’s and bring some up – black or white, Ida? Want anything with it? A biscuit or a sandwich –’

  ‘I don’t want anything,’ Ida said composedly, and did not sit down, standing there looking at Theo, who was holding the chair invitingly, and rather awkwardly. ‘I came to see Maggy. They told me she would be here this morning.’

  ‘Well, yes.’ The girl took her head away and banged the door sulkily, and Theo went back to his own chair behind his desk, seeming more comfortable there, as though he were safe inside his own territory again. ‘We’ve got work to do on the new recordings, you see; we’ve had one reduction session, but I think we could improve the quality a bit yet, so I wanted Maggy to listen to it –’

  ‘I don’t want to interrupt your work.’ Ida sounded brisk, like a hospital nurse talking to a silly patient. ‘But I don’t know any other way to sort this business out. She refuses to answer the letters I’ve sent her, the solicitor says he can’t do anything till she instructs him, and she hasn’t, so I decided to come here. The sooner I see her and talk to her, the sooner I’ll be able to go away and you can get on with your – reduction session, whatever that may be.’ She made it sound like something rather dirty and certainly illicit.

  ‘It’s a check on the tapes we’ve made,’ Theo said, almost eagerly. ‘It’s like editing, you know? We take the best of all of them, meld them together – it’s a skilful business. Makes all the difference between a good recording and a smash hit –’

  ‘Really,’ Ida said perfunctorily and turned to look at the door on the other side of the office. ‘Where is she, then? Will you call her in here, or shall I go and find her?’

  ‘She’s in the small recording studio,’ Theo said wretchedly. Oh, but this was going to make trouble! Maggy had been uptight enough this morning, one way and another. He had said more than he should about his hopes and plans for their future last night, far more, and it had made her rear away like a frightened horse. And now here was this damned woman coming to talk about her future and her needs – he pushed his chair back almost pettishly and said loudly, ‘Well, I’ll tell her you’re here. But don’t expect much of a welcome. Let’s face it, Ida, you aren’t one of her favourite people.’

  ‘That’s not important,’ Ida said, and at last sat down with the air of a woman who has won a small victory. ‘She can hate my guts from here to eternity for all it bothers me. I just want a few things sorted out. Go and get her, please. This is wasting time.’

  Maggy came in quickly, with Theo behind her, his face crumpled with anxiety, and she stood in the doorway with Theo looking rather absurdly over her shoulder, staring at Ida. She was wearing her favourite black, a long skirt and a loose smock, and her face looked whiter than ever over it.

  ‘Well?’ she said harshly. ‘And what do you want? I’ve no time to waste.’

  ‘Nor I.’ Ida made no attempt to get up, sitting there with her hands clasped comfortably over her bag, and staring back at her. ‘I’ve wasted enough time already, trying to sort out what’s to happen to the Westpark. So, I’ve come to get a decision from you. Are you taking the place on or are you not?’

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ Maggy said, sounding bored and cold. ‘None at all.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be stupid, Maggy.’ Ida sounded weary. ‘That’s sheer self-indulgent nonsense and you know it perfectly well. I know the situation as well as you do. If you take the place, then you have to take me on as well. If you don’t, then I get it. Either way we’re stuck with each other, so the sooner we sort out the matter, the better. Throwing little tantrums and stamping your feet’ll just give you a headache, and bore me. And I’ve got better things to do than give in to your nonsense, the way Dolly used to. No, don’t you look at me like that. I told you, I’ve got better things to do with my time than argue with you. What are you doing? I’ve a right to know, one way or the other.’

  Maggy was flushed now. The thick white pallor had gone and Ida, staring at her coolly, thought – she looks good. Grew up better looking than she had any right to, the way she used to look, all those years ago.

  Maggy came into the room and walked stiffly round Theo’s desk, and sat down on his chair, leaning back and putting her feet up on the desk with very deliberate movements. She was wearing high black patent-leather boots and for a moment Ida was amused. Like children dressing up, in all their silly stuff; Maggy in patent boots, and Theo in his pink cheesecloth shirt and dangling chains. What were they trying to prove?

  ‘So,’ Maggy said, and clasped both hands behind her head, looking cool and relaxed, though her cheeks were still flushed. ‘Couldn’t wait any longer, eh? Had to see what you were going to scrape out of Dolly’s coffin? How much have you already got your hands on? All her clothes, all her bits and pieces? Stripped her room bare, have you?’

  ‘You’ll find everything as she left it,’ Ida said coolly, and opened her bag, and took out a big bunch of keys, heavy and almost medieval looking, there were so many of them and the ring that held them was so large. ‘I locked it as soon as the men from the undertaker’s had taken her out, and the bed was cleaned up. Here’s the key.’

  She was taking it off the ring with neat twisting movements of her wrist. ‘Oliver, you see. I thought I’d better keep Oliver out. I’m sure you’ll understand the need for that.’ And the emphasis she put on the you was slight but unmistakable, and this time Maggy went even redder, an ugly colour that looked crude against the brightness of her hair. Ida put the key on the desk at her feet, and nodded, a tight controlled little movement.

  ‘So, there’s that sorted out. Now I want to know what’s to happen about the Westpark. I’ve got the daily running organized, the bank’ll hold things until they get further instructions from Friese. But you can’t go on pretending there’s nothing to be done. I’ve got to have a decision one way or the other, so that we can see where we go from here. Are you taking the place or aren’t you? Am I working for you or am I not?’

  ‘Oh, go to –’

  ‘Look, let’s not be stupid, shall we? We don’t get on. We never have. Let’s take that as read, all right? It’s less effort. Right. Now, if I work for you, it will be on a basis that will make sure you’ll get all that’s due to you. Friese told me, he will’s as tight and as well-worked out as it can be. He didn’t draw it up, I gather, but the man who did knew what he was doing. There’s no way you can be cheated by me if you do take the place, if that’s what’s worrying you. Mind you, there’s no way you can exploit me, either, which is as it should be. But you’ve got to make a decision. I need to know just what you’re going to do. I can’t go sitting in the middle of nowhere much longer.’

  ‘She’s right, Maggy,’ Theo said, unexpectedly, and came and sat on the corner of his desk. ‘I’ve told you, you can’t go on just staying shtoom, and hoping it’ll all go away. It won’t. There the place is, there the box is, and you’ve got to do something about it all. There’s no dodging it.’

  Maggy sat and stared down at the desk. She was sitting up straight now, her feet on the ground, her hands on her lap, and her colour had receded, leaving the whiteness again, and she looked as cool and calm as Ida herself.

  There was a little silence and then she said, ‘All right. I take the point. Something’s got to be done. But I’m pushed for time, all right? There are more important things in my life than some tatty run-down hotel in a back street. Much more important things. So, you’ll have to wait –’

  For the first time Ida showed a hint of emotion. ‘Run down it is not. Considering the debts the place carries, it’s in fantastic order. I’ve decorated rooms myself with my own hands – you know that? – to keep it looking good. I’ve built your inheritance into something worth having, and never you forget it, Madam! The place’ll fetch three hundred thousand of anyone’s money, once those damned debts are sorted out, and half of that comes from
my labour, now and for the last twenty-odd years. I made that business for Dolly, and she knew it, even if you don’t.’

  It was as though that hint of warmth in her had melted not only her own cold reserve but something in Maggy. She leaned back now, and grinned, actually grinned, a wide almost happy grimace.

  ‘Okay. So it’s the nearest thing to the Bayswater Hilton we’ll ever have. Okay. So, you’d like to have it? Go on. Admit it. You’d like to own it.’

  There was a little silence and then Ida said, cool again, ‘Of course. I’d be mad not to.’

  ‘Well, you can’t.’ Maggy knew she was sounding like a child, a child who had refused to lend her teddy bear, and she didn’t care. It was as though she had scored some vital hit at Ida by making her get excited, and she felt better for it. ‘You can’t have it, because I’m going to take it. And you can go on as you always have, dogsbodying and sending your accounts to me regularly, through the bank. I want no direct dealings with you, not ever, but you can work all the hours God gives you and a few more besides, and make profits for me. That’ll really get up your nose, won’t it? You’ll have to work to get your own share, and in doing that you’ll give me mine. You hated me when I was a child, and you worked and I lived there. You hated me because I was Dolly’s daughter and had a right to be there and you didn’t. Well, you can go on hating me, you hear me? I don’t care –’

  ‘Good. That’s settled then. Will you please deal with Friese, then, as soon as possible?’ It was as though Maggy hadn’t said a word. ‘Then, of course, there’s the matter of the debts. Let me know what you’re doing about them –’

  ‘Dolly left enough to pay them,’ Theo said, and his voice coming in so unexpectedly seemed to bring the temperature of the room down. ‘Friese said so. In the box.’

  Ida glanced at Maggy. ‘Have you looked?’

  ‘What business is that of yours?’

  ‘Oh, stop being childish, Maggy, do me a favour! I told you, this is business. Have you looked?’

  ‘Yes.’ Maggy sounded sulky, like a child who has been reprimanded by a hated teacher, but hasn’t any more courage with which to be cheeky, and Theo looked at her and took a deep breath. She was calming down.

  ‘Was there anything there?’

  ‘Not that looked like money.’

  ‘Papers and photographs? Yes, I know about them. She told me they were there. Nothing else?’

  Maggy said nothing, and Ida stood up. ‘Well,’ she said and pulled her coat straight and tweaked at her collar to neaten it. ‘It’s your affair, of course. But if she said there was something there, enough to pay the place clear, then there is. She’s made some sort of private joke out of it. You know what she was like. Nothing she liked better than silly jokes and games –’

  Suddenly Maggy seemed to hear Dolly’s voice in her ears. ‘A story? You’re asking for a story? What a funny thing to do, to ask me for a story –’

  ‘Do you mean that there’s something there that might say – that mere’s money somewhere else?’ Theo sounded eager. ‘Is that it? A pawn ticket or something? –’

  Ida shrugged, and picked up her bag, and dropped the heavy keys which she was still holding into it, so that they jingled a little. She closed the bag with a snap. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘She didn’t tell me. Only that there were papers there and pictures – all the past, she said. That’s all. But I can promise you that if she said there was money there, in some way, then there is. She was a fool, was Dolly, a fool mostly to herself, but she wasn’t an idiot. I mean, she was really very clever, in her own peculiar way.’ She looked at Maggy then. ‘Like you.’ And then she walked across the room and opened the door, and turned to look back at them as she went out. ‘I’ll be hearing from Friese, then, in the next few days. Don’t forget to tell him. I don’t want to have to make more of a nuisance of myself than I have to, but I will if I must. I could get a solicitor of my own, you see. If I had to. Good morning.’

  There was a silence after she’d gone and then Theo said uneasily, ‘Well?’

  Maggy was still sitting at the desk, staring at her hands, and didn’t move, so he tried again. ‘Well, love? What are you going to do?’

  ‘Mm? Finish listening to those tapes.’ She stood up. ‘You can come in about half an hour. I’ll have been through them by then and we can go down to Solly’s. Finish them off –’

  ‘I meant about the box.’

  ‘Oh. That. I’ll have to go back to it, won’t I? And look more carefully. Won’t I? After all, I’ve got a lot of responsibilities. What with the Westpark and your Rainbow Records. Haven’t I?’

  And she was gone, leaving him unsure whether he’d been given the promise he wanted, or a threat.

  7

  She had been playing for about an hour; arpeggios rippling up and down the keyboard, some of the old childhood pieces she had learned all those years ago, and then some Bach and back to the tinkling arpeggios again, and she was feeling better. The time was a bad time, usually, between recordings, and without any worthwhile gigs lined up. Jump were organizing the American trip, of course, but that wouldn’t be for a while yet, and now there was nothing really urgent to do except wait for the launch of the new album, and play three one-nighters, all in London. She could of course, start work on the new arrangements she’d planned for the Purcell stuff; she’d been looking forward to that, because so many people would rear up in fury at the mere idea of jazz and Purcell. But now –

  She slid her fingers from one end of the keyboard to the other, relishing the sound, and then twisted on the stool and stared across the room at the table in front of the big low sofa. Her big soft leather bag sat on it, bulky and expectant.

  Getting the stuff had been surprisingly easy. She had had to force herself to go back to the safe deposit; it had taken three days of vacillating, three days of being too busy, of having other things to do, somehow not getting round to it, to get her to take a taxi to the Haymarket. But once there, it had been easy. She had simply taken the lift down into the cool basement and signed the form and been led into the little room, and taken everything out methodically and filled her bag with it. And three minutes later, still very relaxed, she had taken the lift back up to the street level, the bag heavy on her shoulder. Only when she had stepped out of the lift had her original fear welled up for a moment, but she controlled it in the easiest, silliest way imaginable, simply by going out the other way, into Regent Street instead of using the Haymarket exit. And there she had called another taxi and quietly gone home. It had been as easy as that.

  But now it wasn’t so easy. The bag sat there, looking somehow threatening. All those old photographs and pieces of paper seemed to tick in the silent room like a small bomb, waiting to explode into information she didn’t want. It would be easy, so very easy, to take the lot and drop it into the fireplace and set light to it. She could take a candle, one of those thick heavy ones she’d bought on holiday in Italy to use for parties, and set it alight and put the paper all round it, and watch it all burn up, hot wax, old photographs, the lot. It would be like another cremation, sending those pictures up in smoke, like getting rid of Dolly all over again –

  The door buzzer made her jump, set her heart thumping painfully in her chest and she went across the room to answer it in a sudden lope; frightened, remembering what had happened the last time she had come home from the safe deposit, and then being angry with herself. Silly bitch, she whispered inside her head. Silly bitch. You’re safe inside now –

  But for all that she stopped before reaching for the button and then turned and went over to the turret window. She had rigged up a mirror there, long ago, to give her a view of the front step far below so that she could see whoever was there. She had done it because of Komo, who had a tendency to come to her flat when he was in the mood for a party – which was much too often – trailing half a dozen session men with him, all as high as he was. After a couple such episodes when she had ended up with the flat full of din and booze
and music she didn’t want – for Komo’s delight in heavy rock was not one she shared – and flaked-out trumpeters, she had become more circumspect. Now she only answered her buzzer when she knew who it was.

  But it wasn’t Komo’s close-cropped skull that she saw foreshortened in the mirror. Oliver stood there, unmistakably Oliver, with his balding patch showing clearly, even from this height, through the untidy fuzz of faded brown hair. The buzzer went again and then he took a step back and stared upwards and she shrank back, even though she knew he couldn’t see her, and then he waved, a tentative movement from the elbow, and her mouth hardened. The bastard, he knew she was there, knew about her mirror and was trying it on. Again he buzzed and again she didn’t move. He was harmless, he wouldn’t suddenly start a rock session, but she couldn’t risk having him here, not with all that stuff on the table, waiting to be taken out of her bag –

  Long after he’d given up and gone away she still stood and stared in the mirror, frowning slightly. What had happened to her, for God’s sake? Was she turning into a complete paranoic? Whoever came, whoever spoke to her, she was suspicious and frightened. She’d been suspicious of Friese who had asked questions about the contents of the box, when she had gone to tell him that she accepted the conditions of Dolly’s will, but hadn’t he a right to ask? The debts, the problems – as her lawyer he was entitled to ask. But she had dodged him, had left him still talking, almost running out of his office, and then got that mad notion she was being followed. A man in a neat suit, carrying a paper under his arm and with an umbrella hanging over his wrist, a perfectly normal, ordinary city clerk. Yet she’d got it into her head that he was some sort of spy, that he was tracking after her, for she had seen him outside Friese’s office as she had come hurrying out into Bedford Row, and then again – or someone very like him – at Holborn underground station as she made her way back to the Jump office. And yet again, or so she thought, at the corner of Royal Crescent when she went home. Mad and paranoid and lunatic, all of it. And yet the doubts had gone on – Theo, for example. To have become so suspicious of him when all he’d done was get a bit drunk and tell her honestly what he wanted – that was crazy. It was a good idea, to have a record company of their own. She’d made enough for Jump, tatty little set-up that it was, and they didn’t really appreciate her, and starting something of her own would be infinitely better than being swallowed up by one of the big companies, where they’d just shove her into a category and never let her do her own special thing. And Theo was right, he was a good A and R man. As good as any of them. So why back away from him the way she had just because he’d put a proposition to her about a record company? And now there was Oliver –