The Boy I Love

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The Boy I Love Page 18

by Lynda Bellingham


  ‘Well, that is OK, isn’t it?’ responded Jeremy, trying to understand. ‘You won’t be in competition. You are both very different.’

  ‘That may be so out in the big, wide world, but here in a small company like this, we all knew where we stood when we took the job. There were parts we would like to do, and hopefully if we proved ourselves, those parts would follow. I know there are people in this company who will play dirty, given half a chance, to get what they want, but I just didn’t expect it from my sister.’ Sally could feel tears pricking the back of her eyes and took another mouthful of food to distract her.

  Jeremy looked shocked. ‘What are you talking about, Sally? What has happened to make you say this?’

  ‘Obviously you have not been around for any of this production. In fact, did you even come to the first night? Oh yes, of course you did – you wouldn’t miss hob-nobbing with the great and the good of the repertory system in this country. Did you get any work offered to you?’ She waited for his reply.

  ‘No, I didn’t as a matter of fact, and I left early anyway. But come on, Sally, don’t start having a go at me again. I am in love for the first time in my life – cut me a bit of slack.’

  Sally smiled at her friend. ‘Yes, yes, OK, you are right – now is not the time. Well, on that first night it was a riot. You saw what we looked like. All that hair and see-through costumes. I felt like a stripper, to be honest. Charmaine looked rather fetching though, because her wig was dark and she asked for a bit more coverage with the costume. So there we were, Dora and I, in our matching strawberry-blonde wigs and diaphanous gowns, doing our thing. I was thrilled because I got a round of applause for my song, and I know I made the best of a bad job of a rather dull character.

  ‘Anyway, we all go upstairs to meet the bigwigs – pardon the pun – and to work the room. But of course, now we are without our hair no one recognizes us, so we have to be very clever and make sure at the top of any conversation that the director in question knows exactly who we were. I was doing OK, but you know me, I get so intimidated by all that stuff, and after half an hour I went and sat down with Janie and we just watched all the shenanigans. Suddenly I saw my sister giving this man the full beam of her headlights; he was obviously completely smitten and hanging on her every word. They chatted for quite a while, and then Dora turned and spotted me watching, and suddenly she was kissing him on both cheeks and was off to the other side of the room. Call me suspicious but I smelled a rat, and decided to go and ask Dora what she was up to. I caught her about to leave for the pub with Simon and Peter.

  ‘“Hi, Sally, we are off to the pub. Why don’t you come with us?” she said, practically pushing the boys out of the door.

  ‘“Yes, I will. OK, let’s go,” I said and followed her out.

  ‘We didn’t talk much until we got to the pub, and while the boys were getting the drinks we found a table at the back. It was very busy and all the locals were congratulating us and blowing wolf whistles, et cetera. I had to stop Dora doing a tour of the room otherwise we would have been there all night, and I was knackered and still needed to find out what she had been up to before the boys came back.

  ‘“Who were you talking to in there?” I asked. “It all looked very intense and then suddenly you left him. Who was he?”

  ‘“Oh, some director – nobody important, I don’t think. Anyway, he was telling me how much he loved my song and what I had made of a difficult part. He was basically suggesting I might like to go and do a season at his theatre, which was nice. I just can’t remember which theatre though. I am hopeless.”

  ‘Then the boys arrived with the drinks and Simon congratulated Dora on her performance in the bar! I asked him what he meant and he started telling me that Dora had nailed this director from Nottingham Playhouse no less, and he had offered her a job. Well, you can imagine how my ears pricked up.

  ‘“Was that the man you were talking to – and you said you couldn’t remember his name?” I asked, and Dora looked really nervous.

  ‘“Um, yes, I guess so – but it was no big deal. He won’t remember my name.”

  ‘“Oh yes he will,” said Simon, “because he checked you on the programme and everything. Mind you, he was looking at the wrong name, wasn’t he, Dora?”’

  Jeremy looked at Sally and said, ‘I don’t think I want to hear what is coming next.’

  ‘Can you believe it? Simon goes on to tell us that the guy had got the wrong actress – it should have been me – and that Dora made no attempt to put him straight. Dora then pretends it was all a big mistake and says that she was going to tell the man, but she couldn’t find him later on. It was so embarrassing, and Simon was loving every minute, so I just told Dora we had to go and made her leave.’

  As Sally ate her breakfast she remembered the walk home to the flat and the scene that followed. They had gone into the flat, stuck some money in the meter and got the fire going. Both then went and changed into their big woolly dressing gowns and Sally had put the kettle on. Tea made, the girls had huddled in front of the fire and Sally had challenged her sister.

  ‘You let that director from Nottingham Playhouse think you were me, didn’t you, Dora?’

  ‘Well yes, but I wouldn’t have kept it up. I was going to tell him at some point.’ But Dora could not look her sister in the eye.

  ‘And at what point would that have been, I wonder? On the first day of the new season when you had signed and sealed the contract? How could you do that to me? I am your sister, Dora! I brought you here to Crewe to help you find yourself, and you have done nothing but try to muscle in on my job. And now you have taken a job away from me. What is your problem? What have I ever done to you to deserve this?’ Sally had been shouting and pacing the floor.

  Dora waited a few moments before giving her explanation.

  ‘Sally, this is not personal. I do love you, and I am grateful for everything you have done for me. But I do want to get on in my life, and I have decided that acting is something I love doing. But unlike you, Sal, I am the sort of person who goes for it, no matter what. I grab what I can in the moment. You are very happy to troll along with everything and everybody, enjoying the whole company thing. Well, that is not me, I am sorry. I want to be Numero Uno, the centre of attention, and if an opportunity presents itself to me like tonight, I take it. Does that make me a bad person?’ She had looked up at Sally who was still pacing. Sally was so confused and hurt and angry, she barely knew how to answer.

  ‘At this moment, I don’t know what to think, Dora. But I am your sister, and I would have thought, in this case, there might have been a degree of loyalty?’

  ‘But, Sally, you will get so many offers from this season, I know it. This one just seemed to have my name on it, and I honestly thought you would be pleased for me.’

  Sally had felt her anger rising like bile in her throat, and had shocked herself by how much dislike she was feeling for Dora. Her sister was playing the manipulative card, turning it all onto Sally. It was late, and Sally had the good sense to know that this problem was not going to go away any day soon. She needed to really think about the consequences, not just with regards to her position in the company and how to maintain that position, but her relationship with her sister, which could be damaged irrevocably.

  ‘Let’s leave it there for now, shall we?’ Sally had said. ‘Goodnight, Dora, see you in the morning.’ She had gone to her room and quietly closed her door, just catching Dora’s rather faint, ‘Night.’

  Sally finished her story, including what had happened at the flat the previous night, and her ‘full English’ all at the same time. Picking up her mug of tea she regarded Jeremy over the rim as he sat back in his chair. He looked a little shell-shocked.

  ‘And on top of all this she slept with Simon?’ was his first comment.

  Sally burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Jeremy, I do love you! Trust you to pick up on the least important issue of the whole mess. Yes, she brought him back to the flat. I was so cross, an
d then she had the gall to brag that she had lost her virginity much sooner than me!’

  ‘She is a right little hussy in the making,’ tutted Jeremy. ‘But seriously, she is something else, Sally. I am disgusted and absolutely on your side. Where is the loyalty? But you are right, this problem is not going to go away, and you don’t have many choices. Can’t we send her home?’

  ‘With what excuse? I can’t tell my parents we have had a big falling-out. It will destroy them, especially my mum. I think I am just going to have to keep a sharp eye out and unfortunately learn to fight for my corner.’ Sally gave a long sigh. ‘It feels so much better to have someone to talk to about it all. Thank you. At least if you share the knowledge, you might have some suggestions as we go along. Now I must go and give my Welsh mountain pony impersonation with my traitor of a sister at my side. Oh dear. What next, eh? Are you OK though? Sorry it has been all about me. Taking things slowly, I hope?’

  Sally peered into Jeremy’s face, looking for signs of a lie, but he just gave her a charming smile that told her nothing, and said, ‘Don’t you worry about me, my pet. I am doing fine, but will be away this weekend in Manchester, so do try and keep everything together until I get back.’

  ‘Yes, sir! But please remember, Jeremy, I want you to play Hamlet in my Players piece, and I would appreciate some input from you when we rehearse, although I know you are going to be up to your eyes with fight scenes, and mad scenes, and what-have-you. Gosh, it is going to be so exciting. So just go easy and make sure you are rested and raring to go.’

  Jeremy laughed and gave his friend a big kiss and a hug. If the truth be known, he was feeling very guilty, because the last thing he would be on Monday morning was fit and raring to go after a weekend of wild lovemaking – he hoped!

  Chapter 28

  Lying in bed on Saturday morning, enjoying the luxury of not having to get up early, Jeremy had slept dreamlessly, but now his head was filled with the weekend ahead. What was going to happen? How would it happen? Did he really want it to happen? He had tried to focus on his scenes in Hamlet, but Eddie’s face would spring up in front of his eyes. Jeremy knew in his heart that he had to go with these feelings, no matter what. He would worry about everything else later.

  He got up and dressed in record time in an old T-shirt and jeans because he had decided to go to the theatre and get ready there as it was warmer. He had already packed his holdall – a new one he had splashed out on for the occasion. Good luggage said a lot about a man. He had a fleeting memory of his mother standing at their front door with an old suitcase done up with string, and frayed on the leather corners. They were all going on holiday to Devon. He had had a little leather case as well, which he had filled with crayons and paper and his favourite toy cars. He could see his mother’s face beaming at him as he climbed into the family Ford, his dad already at the wheel studying an atlas of Great Britain, and sucking on a boiled sweet.

  ‘They are for the journey,’ scolded his mother. ‘Your dad is dreadful, Jeremy, he eats all the sweets before we have even started the trip. Now come on, let’s get going.’

  Jeremy felt a pang of guilt as he shut his front door and set off for the theatre. God knows what his parents would make of him now.

  The front of the theatre was still locked as it was early, but Jeremy made his way round to the stage door and found that the cleaners were already in.

  ‘Hi, Alice, how goes it?’ He waved to the girl on the stairs scrubbing away. He squeezed past her and went on up to the dressing room. The familiar smells hit his nostrils as he ascended on high: greasepaint and sweat, and cheap perfume, with the added touch of fried food. Lovely!

  Alice had already cleared up the dressing rooms, so Jeremy was able to shower and change at a leisurely pace. He dried his hair and regarded himself in the mirror. His hair had grown quite long, as he had intended for Laertes, and he liked the fact that it softened his face. He was by no means handsome, but he was attractive and, as his mother would always say to people, ‘He will grow into his face!’

  He checked his overnight bag and squeezed in the bottle of very expensive aftershave he had bought himself for this weekend. A tingle ran down his spine, a tremor of nerves. Please make everything go well, he prayed, to no one in particular. It was hardly a matter for the dear Lord, he reminded himself.

  Just then, he heard a shout from downstairs and recognized Eddie’s voice.

  ‘Coming!’ he yelled, and took the stairs two at a time.

  Eddie was standing in the stage doorway with the sun glinting on his immaculately cut hair. He looked like an angel to Jeremy.

  ‘Hi, Eddie, how are you?’

  Jeremy moved towards him but stopped when he heard a wheezy voice comment, ‘Lovely morning, Mr Jeremy. You’re in early, aren’t you?’

  ‘Gladys! Gorgeous Gladys, good morning to you. Yes, I am up bright and early so that I may show Mr Graham here the wonders of our theatre before the horde arrive. Is that OK with you?’ Jeremy gave her his most brilliant smile and Gladys grinned back.

  ‘Of course, you go ahead. Be careful when you go onstage though because the lights are not on yet. Do you know where the workers are?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I do. I can switch them on easily. Thanks, Gladys. Come on, Eddie, follow me down to the land where magic is made.’

  ‘Magic, my arse!’ Gladys commented under her breath as the two young men bounded off.

  By the time they arrived at the pass door it was indeed absolutely pitch black. Eddie grabbed Jeremy round the waist and pulled him towards him.

  ‘Not here,’ whispered Jeremy. ‘There may be someone from the crew here already. Just hang on. OK, grab my hand and follow me across the stage. I have got a surprise for you.’

  Jeremy felt his way along the back wall of the stage and down to the corner where there was a pass door leading out to the auditorium and the boxes. A door on the right opened to some steps winding round a corner to another door on which was written in gold embossed letters Royal Box.

  Jeremy gently pulled Eddie inside. ‘I thought this was very appropriate for an aristocrat like you. I have often wondered just how many secret trysts must have taken place in here over the years.’

  Eddie moved closer to Jeremy. ‘Are you suggesting a tryst right here, right now?’ he murmured as they stood facing each other, breathing hard. Then, very slowly, each started to undress the other. Not a word was spoken. And finally they faced each other completely naked. Their eyes had hardly left each other’s. Jeremy wanted to scream with anticipation. He was shaking now. The two young men were standing nose to nose, but Jeremy was completely frozen like a statue. Eddie traced the line of Jeremy’s jaw with his thumb, and when he took his face in both hands and drew him into a kiss, Jeremy thought his head would explode. Colours whirled before his eyes and he struggled to catch his breath; he seemed to have been holding it for hours. Eddie pulled back just enough to give Jeremy some space, and then his tongue gently teased its way between his lips once again. Oh, so slowly . . . Eddie pursued his probing, becoming more insistent; demanding attention. Jeremy could feel his whole body pulsating with the passion he was feeling, this overwhelming need. Slowly, so slowly . . . he unfolded his whole being to Eddie’s will, and sank to the ground.

  ‘Are you OK?’ murmured Eddie, gently releasing his arm from underneath Jeremy’s back. ‘Ooh, ouch! Sorry, but my arm has gone to sleep.’ He giggled and sat up. ‘We had better make a move, hadn’t we, J? Someone is bound to be down soon.’ He reluctantly stood up and started to sort out his pile of clothing.

  ‘Shit – yes, you’re right. What am I thinking, lying here like an idiot.’ Jeremy pulled himself up to a sitting position and rubbed his face. He sighed, ‘Oh my God, Eddie, I am in such a daze I can hardly function. Help me!’ He looked up at Eddie standing on the edge of the blue circle of light coming from the stage, and put out his hand. He couldn’t see Eddie’s face and he felt a momentary slither of panic down his back. It was gone in a moment, as
Eddie pulled him to his feet and planted a big smacker on his lips.

  ‘Stop it, you! We must get out of here quickly.’ Jeremy pulled on the rest of his clothes just as a voice boomed out from the lighting gallery.

  ‘Who’s there? That you, Eric?’

  Jeremy recognized the voice of the Will Black, the head carpenter.

  ‘No, sorry, Will – it’s me, Jeremy. I lost the bloody switch. I am such an idiot – I was showing my friend round and couldn’t find the switch for the working lights, but it is done now though.’ He had managed to get to the back of the stage by this time and find the switch.

  ‘Everything OK with you, mate?’

  Jeremy searched the darkness above them and then heard Will coming down the ladder at the side. He quickly improvised for Eddie. ‘See, Eddie, this is where all the hard work is done. Will Black is the man who makes it all happen up there in the gods. Will, may I introduce Eddie Graham. He is a friend who wanted to see how everything works backstage.’

  Will Black shook Eddie’s hand and slapped Jeremy on the back, saying, ‘Bloody actors are useless! Still, you do all right, matey. Nice to meet you, Eddie. Now if you will excuse me, lads, I need to get on.’ He strolled off across the stage like a huge bear.

  ‘God, he is enormous,’ whispered Eddie. ‘Wouldn’t want to bump into him on a dark night.’

  ‘Come on, you,’ said Jeremy. ‘Let’s get out of here, for goodness sake.’

  They arrived at the stage door to find Gladys happily sat with her knitting and a huge mug of tea.

  ‘Right, we will be off now then, Gladys,’ announced Jeremy.

  ‘It was very interesting seeing everything onstage,’ added Eddie. ‘Thank you for giving me a tour, Jeremy.’

  ‘Well, you have a nice weekend, won’t you,’ said Gladys. ‘Going somewhere nice, are you, boys?’

 

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