‘I am sure they will find it very easy to engage another actress. Hopefully one with more talent than Miss Isabelle James.’ Sally no longer cared what Rupert thought of her harsh words regarding the love of his life.
‘Please don’t be mean about her, Sally. This is very hard for me. I know you will be brilliant as Ophelia, and believe me, I will give you all my support, but just understand how I am feeling right now.’
Sally looked at Rupert sat there feeling bereft. She longed to hold him and comfort him, but the actress in her took over. There was no time for all that now. She had a performance to create, and he was going to help her no matter how heartbroken he was. This was her time now, and she was going to make the most of it.
‘Come on, you. Time enough to weep later – we have work to do,’ she told Rupert.
Isabelle had the good sense to keep well out of everyone’s way, and only came into the theatre at the last minute to get changed and ready for the show. She seemed to sleepwalk through her performance, as though she was already on the plane to La La Land.
‘Good riddance, I say,’ remarked Gwendoline. ‘You are going to be so much better, Sally. Now try this dress on and let’s see what has to be altered.’ The alterations were all straightforward but when it came to the floaty number there was an underwear problem.
‘The thing is, whatever you put on by way of underwear will show through this material. Isabelle didn’t wear anything underneath. Are you happy to do that, Sally?’ asked the wardrobe mistress.
Truth be told, Sally was horrified at the thought of wearing a see-through dress with nothing on underneath. But a little voice was telling her to get over herself. She was an actress, and she would do whatever it took for the good of the scene. She could quite clearly see the benefit of being naked under the dress, not just for the line of the dress, but basically for the whole atmosphere of the scene. She would feel so much more vulnerable, and it would help the madness and the feeling of loss somehow; she knew she had to do this.
‘Yes, that’s fine,’ she said firmly, hoping to convince herself in the meantime.
The rest of the week was crazy. Sally hardly ate or slept. She started to watch Isabelle from the wings but decided it did not help her. She was better off just creating her own performance without any other influences. Rupert was wonderful as ever and they were able to create a real energy between them. By Saturday night everyone was quite happy to bid farewell to Miss James. There was even relief for Rupert, who had struggled all week knowing she was leaving but needing to keep everything smooth as they had to work together. Isabelle had a studio car coming to pick her up after the show and drive her to London, as she was booked on a flight the next day to LA.
‘I won’t have time to shop or anything,’ she whined to Sally, who wanted to be sick.
To save Rupert facing a lonely Sunday in Crewe Sally had invited him to lunch. Dora decided she would cook and let the actors chill out as she put it. It turned out to be a very good idea as Sally was so nervous she could think about nothing except the play, and Rupert was beyond conversation as he wallowed in his misery. Dora drank copious amounts of red wine as she stirred her chilli con carne and couldn’t care less about anything. Every now and then she would burst into a chorus of ‘I’m Burlington Bertie, I rise at ten thirty,’ and strut around the living room. She even managed to glean a smile from Rupert.
‘That’s better!’ she exclaimed. ‘Right, you guys, come and eat my chilli, and all will be well.’
Sally watched Dora flirting with Rupert and tried to be generous of spirit. Her sister was not a mean or malicious person. She was just young maybe? Sally thought back to their childhood and how most of the time they had been very happy as sisters. Sally was always the sensible one though, the older sister in charge. She had a mental picture of Dora standing on a low wall outside a holiday cottage singing at the top of her voice, and their parents rushing out and blaming Sally for letting her sister climb up and put herself in danger. Looking at her sister over the table at lunch, Sally felt a surge of love for Dora and made a mental note to make sure that once she had opened next week, she would talk to Dora about all the goings-on so far, and try to mend some bridges.
By seven o’clock on Monday night Sally was a wreck. She could not stop shaking. She sat in her new dressing room, recently vacated by Isabelle, and brushed her hair slowly, trying to restore some calm. The cast had all been round with little gifts and cards, which had made her cry!
‘Five minutes, everyone. Five minutes.’ Heather’s voice through the Tannoy was strangely reassuring. There was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ she called out.
The door opened to reveal Giles Longfellow with an enormous bunch of lilies followed by Robert with a huge box of chocolates.
‘Good luck, my darling,’ Robert said as he leaned over and kissed her on both cheeks.
‘Yes, good luck, dear. I know you will be marvellous.’ Another set of kisses from Giles and they were gone.
‘Beginners for Act One, please. Beginners for Act One.’
Sally was not on straight away, but she could not bear to sit up here in the dressing room on her own, so she decided to go and stand in the wings. She stopped at Rupert’s door and knocked.
‘Come in.’
Sally popped her head round the door. ‘Just wanted to wish you good luck and apologize in advance for any cock-ups.’
Rupert rushed to the door and opened it and gave her a big hug. ‘Oh Sally, I am sorry, I should have come to you, but I have been going through my lines again. Please don’t worry about tonight – you are going to be wonderful. You have been all along, let’s face it. I am so looking forward to acting with you. Good luck.’ He planted a huge smacker on her lips.
Sally stood in the darkness of the wings and wrapped her cloak around her. She could feel the audience like a living breathing creature waiting out there to devour her. From where she was standing she could see the first few rows, and the lights onstage shone on the faces of the people watching. Eventually she heard her cue and walked into the light. She was hit by the warmth onstage after the draughty wings. It was the heart of the building, its soul – and she was slap bang in the middle! She had a split second of sheer panic as she opened her mouth to speak and her mind went blank. It felt like an eternity, a huge empty space and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. She saw Jeremy, as Laertes, her brother, coming towards her, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. She wanted to scream and as she took a breath . . . her words flowed out with ease. She was off and running!
‘You did it! Well done – it was terrific!’ Jeremy was hugging her and Sally was numb. She could hardly remember anything about the play.
‘I am just so relieved I got through it,’ she said. ‘Oh Jeremy, was I really all right?’
‘You were better than all right, you were brilliant – such a relief after Madam. Suddenly the play makes sense.’ He kissed her on both cheeks, lifted her off the ground and twirled her round. ‘Come on, get changed. We are taking you to the pub!’
When they arrived at the pub everyone was there including Giles and there was a bottle of champagne on ice waiting for her to open. Bob, the landlord, came and gave her a kiss and opened the champagne for her, saying, ‘Well done, lass, I hear you were grand.’
There were cheers all round, and Sally was completely overwhelmed by everyone’s kindness.
‘What it is to be loved,’ remarked Dora at her side. ‘Well done, sis, you were brill.’
Sally found Rupert sitting at a table with Geoffrey and Charmaine and Peggy and Percy. They all congratulated her, and she bought everyone a drink before finally sitting down. Suddenly she was completely exhausted.
‘Oh my goodness, I am so tired all of a sudden,’ she said.
‘That is normal, my dear,’ offered Peggy. ‘It is all the adrenalin you have used tonight. Worse than a car crash, they say. You will soon get used to it. It was a bloody good night though, wasn
’t it, Percy?’ She nudged him into a response.
‘Not half, my love. You played a blinder, no doubt about it. Now come on, drink up, and I will get you another.’
‘No, not for me, thank you, Percy. I am going to go home and sleep. Hopefully Giles will let me have a late call tomorrow, just for once. Rupert, I have to thank you most of all for being so kind and helpful despite your broken heart.’ Sally looked across at her leading man, who was getting quietly sozzled. He grinned at her and blew her a kiss.
‘See you tomorrow.’
She found Dora, who was not yet ready to go, and gave her instructions not to wake her in the morning. Then she bade a final farewell to her companions at arms and went home. It was a clear and starry night. There was frost already on the trees, and all the cobbles were twinkling as she walked across them. It looked like fairyland. Snatches of Ophelia’s song ran through her mind and she hummed to herself. She wanted to do it all over again, right now, even though she was practically dead on her feet. She had loved being onstage and feeling the audience with her; almost leaning in to her to catch her words. She had reached out to the back of the circle, and sensed the back row. Every corner of the auditorium was hers to play. She had given her all, and the audience had embraced her and taken her to their hearts. She loved being an actress!
By the time she climbed the stairs of the flat she was freezing cold and could not stop shivering. She made a hot chocolate and undressed as quickly as she could, donning a jumper over her pyjamas and a thick pair of socks on her feet. Slowly she calmed down, and the warmth of the drink spread through her body, right down to her toes. She didn’t even bother to clean her teeth as her head hit the pillow and she fell deeply asleep – with no ‘perchance to dream’ about it!’
Chapter 41
Giles watched the frozen fields speed past through the window of the train. The sun was coming up a deep red splashed across the horizon, cracking daybreak like a golden egg across the landscape. Robert was sleeping opposite him and Giles took the opportunity to study him. They had been lovers for a while last year, but Giles had found Robert to be very intense, and rather negative in his approach to their relationship. Giles had tried to talk to him, and get to know what he was like, underneath the rather cold and brittle exterior, but did not get very far. Certainly Robert had secrets and held them very close to his chest. They had decided to part and Giles did not see Robert again for months, until he turned up at the theatre one morning, and basically asked for a job. Giles felt guilty enough to agree, and thus began Robert’s new career as assistant director. Giles had regretted his decision almost immediately, as it was obvious that Robert did not have the intuition or natural instincts that make a good director. He was also difficult with the actors, who did not respond favourably to his patronizing, and often plain rude, remarks.
Since their confrontation in his office last week Giles had done some serious thinking. He knew just how serious the situation would be if Teddie discovered his son was gay: the repercussions would spread across his own life as much as the Graham family’s. Over the past months Giles had fallen deeply in love with Teddie Graham, and as so often happens when one is blinded by emotion, he had hidden his head in the sand as to where they were going with their relationship. Giles could not think beyond the now. He just wanted things to stay the same forever. Robert had brought him up short with a jolt. Not only was his personal life threatened, but his professional life too was in jeopardy. So here he was on his way to sign a contract with one of the biggest producers in the West End for a three-month run of his production of Hamlet. Robert would also get a credit as assistant director and work with him on the production. Teddie would remain in blissful ignorance of his son and heir’s sexual proclivities, and Giles could enjoy his lover’s attentions indefinitely.
Robert coughed and stirred. ‘Oh sorry, I must have dropped off. What time is it?’ he asked.
‘Not a problem, we have two hours to go yet. Go back to sleep, dear boy.’
‘I have a headache, as a matter of fact. I think I will go and see if I can get an aspirin.’ Robert rose and started for the buffet car. ‘Do you want a coffee or anything?’ he asked.
‘Lovely idea – yes, please, and a ham and cheese roll would be even more perfect.’ Giles grinned. ‘A secret treat of mine.’
‘Coming up,’ said Robert and set off in search of supplies. He returned later with the coffees and two rolls, and as he sat down he grimaced.
‘Something the matter?’ asked Giles, taking his roll and greedily unwrapping it.
‘I think I must be getting the flu or something. I ache all over and I have got terrible mouth ulcers. I am going to see my doctor on the way back to the station this afternoon, as a matter of fact – see if he can give me something to stave off the worst of the symptoms.’
They lapsed into silence as they ate their breakfast, and shortly after that Robert was asleep again. Giles continued to watch the world go by, until he also dropped off. Both men were awoken at the same time as the train hooted its arrival into Euston. They took a cab to the Charing Cross Road, to Wyndham’s Theatre, which also housed the offices of their producer. Robert was still struggling to feel better, and Giles suggested he go straight to his doctor.
‘Listen, it is not as though you really need to be here with me,’ he pointed out. ‘You have seen the contract and you know the contents. I am not going to have you written out at the last minute or anything.’ Giles laughed tightly. ‘Can’t afford to do that, can I?’
Robert nodded. ‘Very well then, I will accept your suggestion and go now – and then meet you at the station this afternoon at four fifteen at the barrier.’
‘Absolutely. See you then,’ acknowledged Giles, and strode off towards the theatre.
Robert hailed a cab. ‘St Thomas’ Hospital.’
‘Right you are, guv.’ The taxi driver looked in his mirror and decided this was not a passenger who wanted to chat, so he put his foot down and kept his mouth shut!
Robert sat back in the cab and tried to stop the thoughts from swirling round in his head. It was always like this when he went to the hospital for tests. Nothing could stop the rot, he knew that. Would the doctor be able to tell him how long he had? He decided he would go to the Terence Higgins Trust after the hospital. This was basically an advice centre set up in July by the partner of a man called Terence Higgins, who had died of this disease. No one really knew what caused it, or how to cure it. The doctors could only monitor patients like himself and struggle to find a solution. But Robert knew he was getting worse. Soon he must take himself away somewhere to die.
The counsellor had told him last time that he must tell all the men he had had sex with what was going on, but he just couldn’t do it. And yet, he had to tell Giles, for Christ’s sake. Now there was this stupid business with Lord Graham and his son. Robert had not intended to involve them in his campaign to make Giles employ him. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing because he was angry. He had watched Giles and Lord Graham being fêted at the Queen’s Hotel by George Delaware and he had been jealous. After all, it was he who had introduced Giles to the hotel, and now he had been swept aside by titled gentlemen. Then he had seen Eddie at the hotel, and they had got together one night. The boy was uncontrollable. Robert had given him a serious talk about protection and too much careless sex, but who was he to talk? They had all partied together that night. It had been wild. None of these guys seemed to know anything about the disease that was stalking them. He had had a couple of conversations with some friends about the symptoms, and yet there was nothing concrete to work from.
Robert had never, in the whole of his life, felt so alone and abandoned. He would tell Giles tonight when they got back to Crewe, he decided, and if Giles was unable to find any compassion for him, so be it. He was fucked anyway.
Giles lifted the glass to his lips and savoured the moment; another wonderful lunch with his colleague Mr Langton, courtesy of the British Drama League.
‘Yes, it all turned out very well, did it not?’ replied Giles. ‘Sally has proved invaluable as a company member and Jeremy is a splendid actor with a formidable career ahead, I think.’
‘But you had problems with your leading lady, I gather?’ asked James, who loved the gossip. ‘She was on drugs and all sorts, I hear.’
‘Well, I don’t know about all that side of it, but as far as her acting skills went she was a non-starter. She had no idea about text or stagecraft. Los Angeles is welcome to her, as far as I am concerned. We are already inundated with suggestions for Ophelia for the production in Town. I hope we can use some of the cast from Crewe as well, although it is always difficult with London producers as they want to be in control of everything. Mmm . . . this wine is absolutely first-class, James. Good choice. Now tell me your news. How is your wife?’
Giles meandered through lunch getting pleasantly pissed and arrived at the barrier in Euston station in good time to meet Robert and get the train home. To his dismay Robert never appeared, and he was forced to board the train alone. He was concerned at first, but shortly after Watford Junction he was lost to the world in an alcohol-fuelled coma and did not wake until the guard announced their arrival at Crewe.
Robert lay in his hospital bed staring at the ceiling. He had asked the nurse if she would be so kind as to call Crewe Theatre and explain that he would not be returning for some time due to ill-health, and to ask Giles Longfellow to call him as soon as possible, on the hospital number. So here he was, waiting for death to come. The doctor had looked at the lesions which had appeared on his legs and taken more blood tests.
‘I am so sorry, but there is nothing we can do for you except keep you comfortable, and in as little pain as possible. Do you have anyone you would like us to contact in the meantime?’
The Boy I Love Page 28
