by Jess Foley
‘So,’ he said, ‘here you are.’
‘Here I am. As you can see, I got your letter. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.’
He shrugged. ‘Why wait around?’ Then he added, ‘I sent it with one of the messenger boys from the office.’ He spread his hands beside him. ‘As you notice, I came alone. Tess has already had a good run out today, so I thought she deserved a rest. Besides, it does me good to take Shanks’s pony once in a while.’ He turned and gestured towards the gardens. ‘Shall we walk in the park?’
‘Yes – that would be nice.’
‘Unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather go, or something else you’d rather do . . .’
‘No, a walk would be very nice. I’ve been cooped up in an office all day, and on a warm day like this . . .’ She let the rest of the sentence go unspoken.
Together they turned and made their way between the wrought iron gates and along the main pathway. Other, narrower paths branched off from the main one, and after a while they turned to the right, taking one of the lesser paths. Lydia observed to herself that the place was a popular venue; there were numerous people there of all ages – couples, and parents with their children – all out taking the warm evening air.
The gardens were spacious and seemed to Lydia to have no limits. After a time they came through a fringe of trees to a large pond, around which benches stood at intervals.
‘Would you like to sit down for a minute?’ Guy suggested.
Lydia nodded, yes, and together they moved to a bench just vacated by an elderly couple and sat down. After a moment, Lydia said: ‘That was so kind of you yesterday – to drive Ryllis and Thomas to Barford like that.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I was glad to do it. It was a pleasure. Your sister seems a very nice young lady. Very pretty too.’
‘Well – I think so.’
‘Yes, indeed. How long has she been friends with Thomas?’
‘Oh, not long. A matter of weeks, that’s all.’ She said nothing further on the matter. After a few moments Guy said: ‘Have you been to this place before?’
‘To these gardens? Only just inside the gates, really. I try to take a little walk most evenings after supper, and I discovered it on one of my first jaunts. It’s so close to the house. I didn’t come this far, though.’ She looked around. ‘It’s a lovely spot.’ She gestured towards the water before them. ‘And this must be wonderful for the children in the afternoons.’
‘Oh, yes, they sail their boats. So many of them. Boats of all shapes and sizes.’ He waved a hand, taking in the whole area. ‘And on the open ground in the windy weather, some of them fly their kites.’ He paused for a moment, then added, ‘Yes, it’s a nice place, but I’d like to take you somewhere a little more special. Perhaps a restaurant, or –’ He broke off then added, ‘Would you like to go to the theatre?’
‘The theatre?’ She paused. ‘I’ve never been. It – it isn’t something my father would approve of.’
‘Oh, yes, your father.’
She said, avoiding Guy’s glance, ‘My father is, as you might have gathered, a very particular man, with very strong ideas as to what is right and what is wrong.’ She looked at Guy now. ‘Mind you, there was hardly the temptation of the theatre and suchlike in Capinfell. As I told you, my father is a very religious man – and his beliefs are unshakeable.’
‘And do you follow him in certain things?’
‘I would like to lead my own life,’ she said. ‘Which is one reason I came Redbury. It may not seem so much to you, having been so far around the world, but to me it was quite a big step.’ She studied him for a moment in silence, then added, ‘Do you find it quite dull, being back in England, after all you’ve seen and all you’ve done?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No, not at all. I’m glad I came back. For one thing, it’s meant that I’ve been able to meet you.’
To her annoyance she felt herself blushing at his words, and quickly she turned her face away.
An hour later, as they walked back through the gardens together, Guy said to Lydia, ‘Are you busy tomorrow? If not, I’ll try to get tickets for a show. I’m not sure what’s on, but I’ve got an idea it’s a music hall.’ He waited. ‘What do you think? Are you busy tomorrow evening?’
She hesitated before answering, then said, ‘No, I’m not.’
‘Then would you like to go?’
When she said nothing, he added: ‘Or is it too soon after your – your loss?’ He paused. ‘How long is it now – since – you lost your mama?’
‘Four months.’
‘Four months.’ He nodded and said with sympathy in his voice, ‘It’s not so very long, is it?’ He paused. ‘Well, I won’t press you, but perhaps it wouldn’t be wrong for you to come out and smile a little and laugh a little. What do you think?’
She thought about it for a minute then said, ‘Thank you . . .I – I think I’d find it very – interesting.’ It was the wrong word, she knew, but she was at a loss as to what to say for the best.
‘Good.’ His smile was warm. ‘I’m really pleased. I really am. Very well, then I shall try to get some tickets. Can you meet me a little earlier tomorrow?’
‘Well – at what time?’
‘Say seven o’clock?’
‘Yes, I should think so.’
‘Seven o’clock outside the theatre?’
‘Yes, all right.’
‘You know where it is?’
‘Yes, I’ve been past it.’
I don’t know yet what time the performance starts, but that should see us in plenty of time. Are you sure that’s all right?’
‘Yes.’
‘What will you do about your supper – at the lodgings?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’ll talk to my landlady. Have you any idea what time the programme will end?’
‘I don’t know – though it’ll be after ten. I haven’t been for some time – not for a couple of years, when I was home on leave.’
She nodded. ‘I shall have to arrange for Mrs Obdermann to leave the bolt off. Otherwise I’ll be locked out.’
Eventually they passed through the iron gates again and went back on to the street.
In Little Marsh Street, at the door of number 15, Guy put out his hand, and Lydia gave him her own. When they had shaken hands he said, ‘Till tomorrow, then – at seven.’
She nodded. ‘Till tomorrow.’
Inside the house, Mrs Obdermann, who always managed to keep an eye on the comings and goings at the door, came into the hall as Lydia moved to the stairs.
‘Ah, Mrs Obdermann,’ Lydia said, ‘I was hoping to see you. The thing is, I’m going to the theatre tomorrow night with a friend and –’
‘Oh, very nice,’ the landlady said. ‘What time are you leaving?’
‘We’ve arranged to meet at seven.’
‘Then you must eat before you go. You can’t sit in the theatre with your stomach grumbling. I’ll get your supper early.’
‘Are you sure it’s no trouble? I don’t want to put you out.’
‘No, no, it’s all cold food, anyway, there’s no cooking to be done, but you’ll have to look sharp getting back from the store.’
‘Oh, yes, I know that.’
‘What about when the show is over? Will you be late?’
‘I don’t know what time it ends.’
‘Well, as you know, I usually bolt the door at ten thirty. But I’ll leave it for you to do tomorrow.’
‘I won’t forget.’
‘Please don’t. Otherwise we could all be murdered in our beds.’
Lydia walked briskly back from the store the next day, and up in her room washed and changed. She put on her grey wool dress, with fresh cuffs and lace collar, the latter made by her mother in years past. When she was ready she went downstairs to the dining room where Mrs Obdermann had just set out for her a plate of ham and salad. There was fruit pie to follow. It was all quite good and tasty, Lydia thought, but nevertheless she almost had to force t
he food down; her excitement had taken away her appetite. When she was through she fetched her jacket and hat, wished Mrs Obdermann a good evening, and left the house.
She reached the Queen’s Theatre a few minutes after seven and found Guy standing waiting near the entrance. He smiled as he saw her approach, and went to meet her, taking her hand in greeting.
‘We’ve got plenty of time,’ he said. ‘The show doesn’t start till half past.’ He patted his breast pocket. ‘I’ve got the tickets.’
Looking past his shoulder, Lydia could see the billboards. ‘It’s a music hall, like you said.’
‘Yes, are you sure that’s all right?’
‘Yes, indeed.’ With an ironic smile she added, ‘Though my father would most definitely disapprove. Shakespeare he might have tolerated at a pinch, but a music hall, no.’
A little later, when the time came, they made their way inside the theatre. It was a new world to Lydia, And she felt a thrill of excitement at the unaccustomed adventure. In the foyer she took in the ornate mirrors and the burgundy carpets with awe; it all looked so grand. There too were framed posters on the walls advertising past productions, and also photographs of famous artistes who had appeared over the years. Inside the auditorium she was amazed at the scene before her. The seats that Guy had bought were in the dress circle, and Lydia sat in her velveteen-covered seat and gazed around her. The place looked absolutely vast – and so beautifully decorated, with gold cherubs set into the ceiling, and huge crimson drapes covering the stage’s proscenium arch. In the orchestra pit a group of musicians had assembled and were tuning up their instruments.
‘Well?’ said Guy, smiling at her as she gazed about. ‘What do you think?’
‘I can’t get over it,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It’s amazing – and so beautiful.’
‘If you think this is beautiful you should see the theatres in London. Some of them are absolutely huge, and the lighting is astonishing. They’re mostly lit by electricity now.’
Guy had secured programmes for them, and Lydia opened hers and looked down the list of acts that were promised. They meant nothing to her, as she did not know any of the artistes, but that did not matter. She was so excited that she could feel her heart thumping in anticipation. Then, suddenly, there was no more time to try to read the playbill, for the lights were going down, the pit band had begun to play and the curtains were parting.
Towards the side of the stage stood a small table with a grey-haired man behind it, with puffed out chest and a grand manner, and wearing a bow tie and tails. Guy leaned to Lydia and whispered, ‘He’s the chairman; the emcee.’ And Lydia nodded, though having no idea what was meant.
Then the man, in florid language, introduced the first act on the bill. This was a trio of tumblers, three small acrobatic young men who threw one another around in the most amazing ways. Time after time their injury-defying stunts had Lydia’s hands pressing to her cheeks in fearful anticipation, but the men landed safe and sound. Following them came a man in a frock coat, with a cigar, who told comic stories, some of them so rude that Lydia wondered that such things could be said in a public place for everyone to hear. Nevertheless, the audience as a whole seemed to enjoy it greatly, and gave him a huge ovation. Lydia did not know whether to applaud him or not, and ended up just clapping politely, though at the same time she did not wish to show disapproval of anything. At her side she was aware of Guy clapping with a touch more enthusiasm, but she dared not turn and look at him for fear of blushing. As for what her father would have said of the act, she thought, it was better not to contemplate.
After the comedian came two young girls who danced and sang prettily, and made saucy eyes at the musicians in the pit. They were followed by a magician and his glamorous assistant. The man wore tails and his attractive young helper a costume revealing a lot of leg and back and shoulders – which drew whistles from some of the men in the audience. Swiftly the clever man held spellbound every single spectator as he produced flowers out of thin air, and then made them vanish again just as quickly, but that was as nothing compared to other things that he could do. After asking his assistant to lie down on a little mattress, he made both rise up into the air. Lydia could hardly believe she was seeing it with her own eyes, it just seemed so miraculous. Then he used a hoop to encircle the young woman’s body, proving to everyone there that she was not supported by wires. When his act came to an end the magician took his bows and the curtains closed again.
As the lights came up, Lydia turned to Guy, and knew that he must be able to read the wonder in her face.
‘Is it over already?’ she said as many of the audience members began to get up from their seats.
‘No,’ Guy replied. ‘This is just the interval. Would you like some refreshment of some kind?’ He gestured in the direction of a young woman with a basket who stood near one of the exits, selling oranges and nuts. ‘Or we could go into the bar and have something.’
Lydia thanked him, but said that she did not need anything, and after a while the members of the audience were back in their seats and the band began to play a lively tune to introduce the second half of the show. When they had finished, the chairman came back on to the stage, this time with a large glass of ale, which he drank in one go to the accompaniment of a drum roll. That feat accomplished to a round of riotous applause, he introduced the first act of the second half, which turned out to be a young man in a light check suit who sang romantic songs in a warm, soulful baritone. After him came on to the stage a tall woman with a little poodle under her left arm wearing a blue ribbon topknot. The large lady was the famed Madame Eleanor Frabizzi. While she spoke to the audience, two stagehands swiftly erected some stands and boxes, and placed some hoops and other items beside them. When the men had retreated backstage again, the lady turned and called into the wings, and on trotted two more poodles and a terrier. One of the poodles wore a yellow bow, the other pink. The terrier wore a little black bowler. For the next twenty minutes the dogs, under the woman’s commands and encouragement, performed an amazing number of feats, involving jumping on and off the boxes and leaping through the hoops. The audience responded – particularly the females – with ahs and ohs, the indulgent kind often reserved for other people’s babies.
After the madame, the chairman introduced the act called Two for Tea, the star of which was a lithe, not-so-young man who, before Lydia’s eyes, assembled from items he took from a box a large doll, a rather sinister replica of a curvaceous blonde-haired young woman who, with her purple dress, red lips and black-lashed eyes, looked to be no better than she should be. He then proceeded to dance around with the doll and sing to her, and to Lydia’s gaze it was the most wonderful thing, for the way the man moved the doll around it was as if she were absolutely real. The way he was able to make her arms and legs move about was no less than amazing. The act earned the man much warm applause.
After this came the final act, Arthur Beaning and the Four Beans. This was a father and his four sons, their ages ranging from nine to fourteen. The act consisted of Arthur Beaning trying to tell the audience a joke – which of course he never managed to finish until the very end, for all the time he would be interrupted by his sons. It was very entertaining, with songs and dances and lots of comical dialogue. The audience roared their approval.
And at last the final curtain came down and the show was over.
Lydia could not believe that so much time had passed by.
‘So, what did you think?’ Guy leaned towards her as he spoke. Around them the other spectators were moving out into the aisles and making their way to the stairs. ‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘Oh, it was wonderful!’ Lydia breathed. ‘I didn’t want it to end.’
It was after ten-fifteen when they came out on to the pavement, and Guy asked her if she would care to go for a drink before she returned to her lodgings, but she said she thought she had better start to make her way back. ‘Shall I call a cab?’ he said, and she replied no, she would
prefer to walk.
So they set out together, walking a yard apart, through the city streets, heading for Little Marsh Street and number 15.
When they reached it, Lydia took her latchkey from her bag and turned to Guy. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I shall wish you goodnight – and thank you again, for everything.’
‘It was a pleasure.’
‘Thank you. It was a most wonderful evening.’
‘There can be more,’ he said. ‘If you want.’ A moment, and then, ‘I’d like there to be more.’
She hesitated and then said, ‘Yes.’ It was a very small sound, just a little word, but inside her breast she could feel the beating of her heart.
‘I’ve got appointments tomorrow,’ he said, ‘but perhaps on Friday you’d like to come out. We can go somewhere for dinner, if you’d care to.’
‘Well – yes,’ she said, ‘that would be very nice.’
He took her right hand then, the hand holding the key, and impulsively put it to his mouth and kissed the back of it. As he released her he said, ‘I’ll call for you on Friday, at seven, if that’s all right?’
‘Yes. I’ll be ready.’
After bolting the door behind her, Lydia climbed the stairs. Her steps seemed to fall on the treads without weight. Her whole being felt light.
Later, she lay in her bed looking up towards the darkened ceiling, just visible in the faint light that crept in from the moon. She would not be seeing Guy until Friday. How could she survive till then? She thought back over the evening, seeing herself once again in the theatre, with Guy sitting at her side. She had been so conscious of his nearness, of hearing his every little laugh and chuckle at the goings-on before them.
She was still thinking of him as she fell asleep.
On returning from the store the following day she was surprised to find two letters waiting for her. One was from her father, and the other was from Ryllis. In her father’s short letter he wrote that he would expect her on Saturday, and added that he was coming down with a slight cold. Ryllis’s letter was a little longer. She wrote that she had received Lydia’s letter, and of how nice it had been to see her on the Sunday. She went on to say that it had been a great pleasure meeting Mr Anderson, and was pleased to hear that Lydia had taken to Thomas. ‘Isn’t he splendid?’ she said, and then added, ‘I’m afraid he was a little out of sorts when you met him – due to a troublesome tooth.’
