Kitty Little

by Freda Lightfoot

This was the last thing she wanted. Kitty felt the need of some time alone, to speak in private to Esme. And time to think. Only when Charlotte finally lost her temper did Archie storm out of the theatre, jump in behind the wheel of the Jowett and drive away, leaving Kitty standing alone and vulnerable on a dark, wet city street.

  Kitty expected to spend a sleepless night in the small hotel she booked herself into, but was surprised to discover that after writing her usual loving letter to Owen, which she meant to post first thing in the morning, she fell instantly asleep. In no time at all she was waking to a new day.

  She should have been rushing back to put the finishing touches to the Benefit Night, as well as spending precious time with Dixie. Instead she was consumed by a terrible anger building slowly within her. Archie had lied about forgetting the name of the theatre. He’d actually visited Esme there! Yet he had not admitted this either to herself or, presumably, to Charlotte. The reason was only too evident from the sounds she had heard behind the closed door. He and Esme were having an affair.

  In itself, that was not so surprising, Kitty supposed, but the realisation brought with it two unanswered questions. If he’d decided that marriage to Charlotte was a mistake, (and who could blame him for that) and that he really loved Esme, then why had he propositioned Kitty? Not simply once, but on numerous occasions since her return.

  Secondly, why hadn’t he persuaded Esme to leave that dreadful place? What kind of man would be prepared to have the woman he loved take off her clothes for other men? There was something seriously wrong here. For the first time Kitty began to wonder if she knew Archie as well as she thought.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Theatricals usually stayed in the same boarding house, within walking distance of the theatre so it didn’t prove too difficult to discover where Esme lodged. She looked more her normal self this morning, young and fresh faced, if a little tired and not in the least surprised to find Kitty on her doorstep.

  ‘I thought you might come,’ she said, as she led her inside.

  Dressed in an old check dressing gown she was taking a late breakfast in the tiny bed-sitting room she occupied. It was dark and shabby, containing little more than a bed and a chest of drawers with a few hooks on the wall which held Esme’s few clothes covered by a curtain. In one corner stood an old sink and cupboard, single gas jet, table and two chairs. It was here that Esme was preparing porridge. Kitty declined any for herself but accepted a cup of tea.

  The two girls sat at the table in the window, sipping their tea with little more than polite comments about the weather and perfunctory remarks about the war, as they gazed out on to grimy mill chimneys and roof tops beyond. It reminded Kitty of her old attic room at Hope View in Ealing and she shivered, almost as if she had come full circle, for wasn’t she still suffering from the effects of those who derived their pleasure at the cost of others?

  The effort at small talk was finally exhausted and Esme said, ‘I can guess why you’ve come.’

  Kitty looked up at her in surprise. ‘Can you?’

  ‘You’ve found out, about me and Archie.’

  A short pause, a sip of the scalding tea. ‘Not until I heard you both last night at the theatre. I’m sorry, I dare say it was rude of me to listen but I couldn’t help myself. I came back stage to add my weight to Archie’s efforts of persuasion and found - well - you know what I found. But don’t worry, I shan’t tell Charlotte.’

  She was speaking quite quickly, still staring at the chimneys, reluctant to meet Esme’s enquiring gaze. ‘It’s none of my business, after all. Though how long you imagine you can go on without her finding out, I can’t imagine. Charlotte isn’t going to take kindly to being betrayed. All hell will be let loose.’

  ‘Charlotte isn’t the only one who’s been betrayed. He left me for her, remember, the moment she came back from Yorkshire that last time.’

  ‘I know, love.’ Kitty hesitated, wanting to reach out to her friend, but not quite knowing how. Should she tell Esme about how he’d tried to seduce her too? Or had she been mistaken? Kitty was so used to making excuses for Archie, she found herself doing so yet again but then remembered that if she hadn’t stopped him, he would have been perfectly prepared to enjoy a little romp there and then, in the Misses Frost’s front parlour. It all suddenly seemed rather tawdry and all the time he had known where Esme was, being no doubt a regular visitor to this seedy little room. Suddenly the anger boiled up in her again and Kitty set down her cup with a snap.

  ‘Can’t you see how he’s using you. How he’s used us both. He’s every bit as manipulative as Charlotte, in his own selfish way. Archie doesn’t love any of us. Archie only loves himself. He loves money and idleness, not having to make any effort or decisions about anything. He’ll always take rather than give, whatever brings him the most pleasure. It could easily have been me making love to him last night.’

  Esme’s face flushed bright pink. ‘That’s a lie.’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ Kitty told her then, quite bluntly, about how Archie had made it clear that he still wanted her. ‘He’s even told me their sleeping arrangements, which apparently leaves him free for nightly trysts whenever he chooses, though how true this is I don’t care to consider. But he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s more than willing to take up where we left off. He can’t keep his hands off me, yet doesn’t give a damn about any of us. He’s as fickle and as utterly self-centred as... as...’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ All colour had drained from Esme’s face, the pain in her grey eyes terrible to behold.

  Kitty softened her tone. ‘Oh Esme, if he’s so wonderful, why hasn’t he insisted that you leave this dreadful place? Why does he allow you to demean yourself in this manner? Why do you stay?’

  A deep sigh, which seemed to be drawn up from the bottom of a deep dark well. ‘I-I’ve got myself into a mess, I admit it, allowing myself to be taken in by the likes of Terrence Lee. I met him in Preston and he seemed genuine enough at first, assured me it was all quite respectable. I just had to sit there and look beautiful for men to admire. No movement or anything. Nobody ever had admired me before and it seemed safe enough but then - he started asking for more, so - we reached a compromise.’

  Esme seemed to run out of words but then went on in a voice so low Kitty could hardly make them out. ‘Charlotte was right in one respect. I did think too little of myself. Always have, I suppose. Hiding from memories of what my father did to me, I came to expect bad things to happen. It seemed normal. But that other accusation she made isn’t true. I only dance. Nothing else. I have the respect of the audience, even of Mr Terrence. It’s called Live Art.’

  Kitty slammed her fist down on the table, knocking over the abandoned cup so that tea spilled over on to the linoleum floor. ‘Utter rubbish. It’s sleaze! You’re titillating men’s fantasies and for heaven’s sake, Esme, you deserve better than that.’

  ‘I’ve told you. I need the money. And it won’t be for ever, just till I’ve got myself...’

  ‘What do you need money for?’ Kitty interrupted, barely having the patience to listen to any more excuses. ‘The lack of it has never bothered you before. Why now? Besides, you could get a job in any normal theatre, music hall, variety, even the pierrots would be better than this.’

  ‘None of that pays anything like as well, even if the work were available.’

  ‘So where’s the evidence of all this money then?’ Kitty moved about the room, indicating the shabbiness of their surroundings. ‘What do you do with it? What do you spend it on?’

  ‘I’m not spending it. That’s the point. It’s for our future. Archie’s and mine. He’s saving it for me. He does mean to tell Charlotte about us. Quite soon. But he can’t leave her just yet. Not till she’s perfectly well again. She lost the baby you know. She’s been quite low since.’

  Kitty stared at her dear friend in pained disbelief. Poor Esme. She was really far too naive for her own good. ‘I don’t believe she ever was pregnant. I
think it was all a ruse, to force Archie to marry her.’

  Kitty gathered the cold hands between her own. She could feel them shaking. Very gently, she asked, ‘How do you know that he’ll ever leave her? Whatever it is that Archie feels for Charlotte, appears to be unbreakable. Whether he loves you or not, he is still completely besotted by her. Besides, it would demand action on his part to leave her, for him to make a decision, and you know how Archie prefers to avoid difficulties and anything the least bit unpleasant.’

  ‘But he loves me. He’s told me so over and over again.’

  Kitty bit her lip in frustration. ‘Then why try to seduce me?’

  ‘You may have been mistaken.’

  ‘Esme, I wasn’t mistaken. Archie prefers his relationships to be purely physical because he isn’t capable of truly loving anyone. And what proof have you that he is saving this money? Have you seen the work that’s being done at Repstone, even before the Barn Theatre? Someone is funding Charlotte’s dreams for this new role of hers. Have you considered that it might well be partly you?’

  ‘That’s a despicable thing to say. Archie wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen. Besides, he has plenty of money.’

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder. He complains all the time about the likelihood of being bankrupt within the year. Look, you’ve been a fool. We both have. I believed in him just as much as you did. Once. But I was wrong! He’ll sleep with either one of us, and be unfaithful to all three, without a thought as to the effect this might have upon us. He’ll follow anyone who leads him down the path of dalliance. He hasn’t an ounce of true feeling and emotion in him. It’s all superficial gloss.’

  Kitty stopped speaking because she could think of nothing more to say to prove her case.

  Now the silence was so complete even the dust motes whirling in a streak of stray sunlight seemed like a noisy intrusion. Esme sat and wept silent, heartbreaking tears that seemed to be torn from the depths of her soul. Kitty put her arms about her friend and held her close for a long, long time, until they were all spent.

  ‘I thought he truly loved me.’

  ‘I know.’

  Kitty made more tea and they drank it in silence.

  ‘I wish Mrs Pips was here,’ Esme said finally. ‘I didn’t realise how much I depended on her advice until after – after her death. It was all so sad, so cruel that the winding gear should break just when she was standing underneath it. I mean, we never had any trouble with it before, did we?’

  Kitty was staring at Esme, a thoughtful frown puckering her brow. ‘A tragic coincidence, that’s for sure. Made me jittery about props and set ever since, I can tell you. Nor did we ever find out where she went just before she died.’

  ‘Charlotte was away too about that time, wasn’t she? And then when Mrs Pips came back, I suppose we were busy and forgot to ask, and then it was too late.’

  Their gazes locked, as if with the same thought. Kitty said, ‘Did she never speak of her trip to you?’

  ‘Only to say that she’d felt a desperate need for a short holiday, and stayed at a charming inn called the King’s Head in a small village near Leeds.’

  ‘Leeds? Isn’t that where Charlotte goes to visit her mother?’

  ‘You mean the one who has never come to see her daughter perform in all that time…’ Esme stopped, focusing on the look of startled concern in Kitty’s eyes. ‘She may, of course, not be fit enough to travel. She does seem to fall ill a good deal.’

  ‘True, she may not. But Charlotte rarely speaks of her mother, except when she’s wanting to pay her a visit.’

  ‘Almost as if there wasn’t really a mother at all.’

  ‘Then who does she go to see?’

  ‘Are you suggesting that Mrs Pips could have followed Charlotte in order to find out?’

  ‘What happened to her things?’ Kitty asked.

  Esme got up and drew from a cupboard a cardboard shoe box. ‘Everything’s here. Not that she had much. Rather sad really. A housekeeper all her life with very little in the way of family beyond her beloved Archie. There are lots of photos of him, as a boy of course, all stiffly posed in sailor suits. A purse with a few coins and a bus ticket in it, a few programmes of shows we did. And a diary, but I’ve already looked through that. Nothing of any note.’

  They looked through everything again but Esme was right. There was nothing of any interest. Kitty opened the purse and examined the bus ticket. ‘This is to Leeds, and there’s a receipt for four night’s bed and breakfast at a village inn.’

  Both now fell silent for neither dared voice the fear that perhaps dear Mrs Pips had indeed discovered the answer to where Charlotte went on her frequent trips away, one which Charlotte objected to her knowing and had therefore put end to the old housekeeper’s curiosity, for good.

  Kitty stared again at the ticket in her hand. ‘We could always pay a visit to Leeds ourselves. We could just make time, if we hurried.’

  Esme looked at her for one long stunned moment, then reached for her coat.

  The Benefit proved to be an enormous success. The Barn Theatre was packed to the doors, standing room only. Each song and sketch met with a joyous response from the audience. They even took kindly to Charlotte’s extract from “She Stoops to Conquer” with its humorous tangle of mistaken identities, though not perhaps with quite the enthusiasm she had hoped for, nor the standing ovation she believed her performance deserved.

  Kitty, dressed as a soldier, was now waiting in the wings for her own entrance. Mouth dry, nerves strung high, beads of sweat trickling between her breasts, this was the moment she loved and dreaded more than any other. The fear she felt in this instant was all consuming, so utterly numbing that she longed to turn and run; then the curtains parted, the music played and she was striding out on stage and the rush of pleasure she experienced as she started to sing, was utterly intoxicating. An addiction no less. The roar of greeting from the audience when they saw her, was almost overwhelming, drowning out even Kitty’s powerful voice for several seconds. Some actually stood up and called out her name, others whistled but these were soon hushed into silence by their comrades and a complete stillness fell upon the audience as she sang. She marched and sashayed, swung her stick, saluted and flirted outrageously with them and when the song was done, almost the entire audience erupted from their seats as one, cheering and roaring and yelling for more, while others stamped their feet, clapped and whistled.

  Kitty Little, as always, was a triumph.

  In the wings Esme, Felicity, Suzy, Reg and the rest, even Frank, were laughing and applauding and cheering just as madly - glad for her - believing she deserved this success after all her hard work. Archie was looking on with a stunned expression on his face and Charlotte was purple with rage.

  She refused absolutely to take part in the final curtain and, loudly complaining that the audience must be illiterate peasants, flounced off to her dressing room where she glared in the mirror as if defying it to find any flaw in her own image. Pinching her cheeks, trailing a finger to test the firmness of her chin, Charlotte came close to asking herself if she could possibly be past her best. This was dismissed almost instantly as quite impossible and the blame for a less than adoring response from her usually devoted fans was laid entirely upon Suzy, who had dressed her hair. Snatching up a pair of scissors she began to snip and tidy silken strands but when this only made the image worse, she flung the scissors into the far corner of the room. She should have gone to a proper hairdresser, tried one of the newer, more daring styles. Perhaps she’d worn the wrong dress, blue suited her far better than this dull maroon. Charlotte began to rip it off, tearing the fabric in her fury.

  ‘Kitty overheard us that night in my dressing room at the Blossom Club.’ Esme spoke these words with creditable coolness and Archie appeared nonplussed, caught out, like a naughty boy again; an expression quickly masked as the lines of his face hardened and tightened.

  ‘I see.’

  Kitty smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve
promised to say nothing to Charlotte. She’s your problem. But I would recommend that you do tell her. I may be a touch over-sensitive on the matter, having had some personal experience of betrayal myself, but I happen to think it’s a pretty lousy thing to do, however awkward and difficult your wife happens to be. Particularly when it’s with a mutual friend. It’s not as if you didn’t have the chance to choose Esme instead, before you married Charlotte, is it?

  ‘You were going to tell her about us though, weren’t you Archie?’ Esme said, eyes bright and trusting. ‘Ask for a divorce and marry me, as you promised.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Kitty said, ‘Why don’t you explain to Esme about your being quite prepared to betray her too, as well as Charlotte. Oh yes, I’ve told her about your recent attempt to seduce me, that you’ve hardly stopped trying since I came home.’ Kitty flung the accusation at him like a lance, brown eyes blazing.

  ‘You aren’t going to believe this nonsense, are you Esme?’ Archie smiled disarmingly before turning his narrowed, icy glare full upon Kitty. ‘It was unfortunate that you should find out about my affair with Esme in quite that way. In normal circumstances, betrayal, as you so beguilingly term it, might well be considered a pretty rotten trick. But these aren’t normal circumstances.’ He began to cough and mop his brow.

  ‘Why aren’t they? Because there’s a war on? I’m talking about before the war. Admit it Archie. You shamelessly use your charm to exploit people.’

  ‘I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to us all getting together again. I thought it would lead to trouble. But I never deliberately exploited either of you. We’re old friends, after all. Therefore I can take whatever you’re willing to give.’

  ‘But what do you give in return Archie? Nothing. You use us, for your own selfish purposes. You even help yourself to Esme’s earnings. That is utterly despicable.’

  He looked suddenly like a stranded fish caught on the end of a line, gasping for air. Esme ran to grasp his arm.