by Tania Crosse
Monsieur Clément had been listening to her animated report with his eyes lowered to his clasped hands, but now his gaze shot up to the girl sitting opposite. She’d clearly relished telling him, and now she stopped and waited, a triumphant smirk plastered across her face.
Monsieur Clément watched her for some moments, wanting to make her sweat. Slowly, taking his time, he eased himself back in the chair again. His hand went thoughtfully to his chin, and then he twiddled his moustache, first one side and then the other. If there was anything in what Deidre was saying, it could possibly damage the company if it became public knowledge. The war, and particularly CEMA’s backing, had done wonders for the world of dance, ballet in particular. It had brought it to the attention of the common man, when before it had been considered an entertainment only for the upper classes, and now all levels of society wanted to watch it. But classical ballet also held a certain traditional ethos with it, and having a child out of wedlock wasn’t part of it. It wouldn’t ruin the company, but it could bring some bad publicity – if it was true, of course. But it could ruin Cissie. She could be heckled nightly at the stage door, and he’d hate that for her. His little star might even leave, and he wouldn’t want that, either. No. He could see that he was going to have to deal with this very carefully.
‘Ma chère mademoiselle,’ he began with a small smile, ‘I am thinking that you have a very vivid imagination, which is, perhaps, not so bad in an artiste. But I myself rang the sanatorium and spoke to Cissie, so I am afraid your conclusions are incorrect. Whatever her relationship is with these two men, of course, I cannot say. But the fact is, Mademoiselle Deidre, that good though you are, she is a better dancer than you, and her private life is her own affair. You must understand, ma petite, that I have now lived through two world wars. In the first, I was a young man and I fought for my country in the trenches. I saw the most terrible things. Afterwards, I came to London to dance and escape the pitiable state my poor France had been left in. But my heart was still there, and it bled to see my country overrun by the Germans once again. The stories of what the Nazis did to my countrymen have sickened me. People I know. So, you see, this small thing you have brought to me,’ and here Monsieur Clément flapped his hand dismissively, ‘is of no significance. I know you are jealous of Cissie, even though I have made you a soloist. But if I hear that you ever make any derogatory remarks about Cissie or the company, you will be dismissed. And do not forget that I know a lot of people in the dance world, and I could make it difficult for you ever to dance again. On the other hand, if you were to transfer to a different company of your own free will, I will give a good report of you. There are many big cities in this country with plenty of opportunities, and I should be willing to help you make the move. Now, please, leave this office and consider what I have said. Let me know your decision, and I can start making enquiries for you.’
Monsieur Clément had watched Deidre’s face slowly lengthen as he’d spoken. Yes, he was tired of all the evil in the world and was overjoyed the war was over. All he wanted now was to concentrate on his art for as long as he was able. Men were gradually being demobbed, and it would be marvellous if the company could find some good dancers among them. If the outcome of this meeting with the Arts Council was favourable, the company could afford to take them on. They’d had a few good youngsters in the war, sixteen and seventeen-year-olds who’d then been conscripted. If some of them could come back, he’d be delighted. But he was sure nobody could ever match the chemistry between Sean and Cissie.
Ah, poor little flower. Whatever had really happened to her? He had to admit that he’d sometimes wondered. But he wasn’t one to pry. It wasn’t his place. And he could surely be forgiven the little white lie about the telephone call. He had a very soft spot for Cissie, as the English said. But he’d taken the greatest satisfaction from watching Deidre leave the office, her face like thunder.
Ah, well, she only had herself to blame. Now he could get on with the real business of the day. Rehearsals.
*
‘Oh, isn’t it exciting!’
The young girl was almost jumping up and down, grinning broadly at her new friend. Mildred smiled back. Yes, she was bloody excited, too, but she didn’t want to let it show too flipping much. Georgina Miles might be only three years or so her junior, but she wanted to appear far more grown-up on her first proper evening out with Oscar – even if his little sister was in tow!
The foyer at Wimbledon Theatre was fizzing with anticipation as the spectators flocked in. So many voices bubbling in joyful expectancy, the atmosphere electric. Cor, no wonder Cissie loved being part of it all, Mildred thought as she gazed about in awe. It was like a different blooming world. Dazzling. So – what was the word? Yes, sophisticated. You’d never find Gary setting foot in a place like this. Even if many of the people weren’t exactly toffs, they had certainly made the effort to dress up for the occasion. You didn’t get nothing like this when you went to the cinema. The audience there filed in almost anonymously. Here they nodded and smiled and even spoke to fellow strangers. It seemed that gathering in the foyer was a sort of happy ritual.
‘You two stay here and I’ll go and get a programme,’ Mildred realised Oscar was saying in her ear, obviously wanting to make himself heard above the hubbub without having to shout. For just that second, Mildred tingled with delight at his closeness as his breath gently fanned her cheek when he spoke. She’d love it if… if he could be that close to her more often.
‘Make sure you don’t get picked up,’ Oscar went on. ‘Two prettiest girls here.’
He winked as he turned away, and Mildred’s excitement grew. She felt… well, she couldn’t really say what she felt as Oscar was swallowed up in the crowd, just the back of his head visible as he joined the queue for programmes. But there was definitely something warm curdling in Mildred’s stomach.
She brought her head back to face Georgina, smiling at the younger girl’s flushed cheeks. She didn’t half look like her brother, even if he was so much older than her. Georgie was as beautiful as Oscar was handsome. Same generous mouth that seemed permanently curved upwards at the corners, same firm jawline, although slightly more pointed in Georgie. Above all, those expressive, warm brown eyes that could darken with gravity one moment and twinkle mischievously the next.
‘Yes, it is,’ Mildred finally replied to Georgie’s comment. ‘I ain’t never… I mean, I’ve never been to a live theatre before.’
‘What! Living in London and never been to the theatre?’ Georgie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
‘Nah, never. Been to the flicks hundreds of times, but never the theatre.’ Mildred didn’t want to explain that in her circles it was considered a bit above them. Only posh people went out to the thee-ay-ter, although Rob had taken Gert a few times before they’d got married and moved out to their Surrey suburb. Mind you, Rob’s family were several steps up the class ladder from the Parkers. ‘I suppose you’ve been loads of times?’ Mildred asked, trying to hide her thoughts and feeling somewhat envious.
She was surprised when Georgie pulled a face. ‘Not really. I haven’t been since before the war. Oscar and Susan took me a couple of times, so I’m really looking forward to this.’
Mildred lifted an enquiring eyebrow. She’d instantly warmed to Georgie and wanted to learn as much as possible about the family. ‘Who’s Susan?’ she asked, imagining she must be a cousin or family friend.
‘Susan?’ Georgie answered casually. ‘Oh, Oscar’s wife. Didn’t he tell you?’
Mildred froze, her mind reeling. Wife? Oscar had a wife? Mildred’s world suddenly caved in. Had… had he been lying to her all along? She was preparing to face the music and break off her engagement for him, when all the time he was married?
Her heart lurched as Oscar came back, waving a thin programme at them and smiling triumphantly.
‘There,’ he said, handing it to Georgie. ‘Only one allowed per party, I’m afraid. Don’t mind if Georgie looks at it fir
st, do you, Milly?’
‘Erm, no,’ Mildred muttered, attempting to put a faint smile on her face while calling him you bastard in her head.
‘Oh, come along. We’re going in.’
Oscar ushered Georgie and Mildred in front of him as the audience began to filter through the doors.
Oh, so he thinks being polite and bleeding chivalrous makes everything all right, does he, Mildred silently scorned. How could he trick her like that?
But she damned well wasn’t going to let it spoil her evening! Cissie had been lucky to get these tickets, even if Mildred and Oscar had needed to swap shifts to use them. They’d been short-notice cancellations, just the three. Jake had already seen the show, they all knew now, and so had Ron, Bridie and Zac, Eva jumping at the chance to babysit Jane. When Cissie had given her the tickets, Mildred had offered them to her mum and dad and Primrose first, but much to Primrose’s annoyance, Eva had insisted Mildred went with Oscar and Georgie. Milly was Cissie’s special friend, after all, Eva said, and the rest of them hoped to get tickets for a later date.
Now, as they entered the auditorium, Mildred stifled her gasp at its beauty. She wasn’t going to let Oscar think she was some uncultured ignoramus. When they took their seats, she made sure Georgie sat between them. She didn’t want to sit next to that lying trickster.
When the music struck up, though, her bitterness melted away in her delight at the performance. She was entranced by every act, and when Cissie was on stage, her spirits soared. She’d thought Cissie would be good, but her performance was enthralling. She moved across the stage so easily, like flowing silk, a dream, while her body lilted in all sorts of beautiful and yet seemingly impossible movements. The music, the costumes, the singing and dancing seemed to wreathe themselves about Mildred in a kaleidoscope of enchantment. It was all blooming fantastic!
When the interval came, by the time she and Georgie had queued to use the ladies’, it was time to resume their seats. The second half of the show was, if anything, even more overawing than the first, and when the applause finally died down after several curtain calls, Mildred felt sad and deflated. And not just because the evening was over.
They were having to do an early shift the next morning to make up for the one they’d swapped. So Mildred had explained to Cissie that they wouldn’t wait at the stage door to meet her afterwards. Instead they made their way directly to Wimbledon Station, Georgie chatting nineteen to the dozen as they went. She’d linked her arm through Mildred’s so that Oscar was obliged to walk a few paces behind them. Thank goodness for that, Mildred seethed. She felt she didn’t want to talk to Oscar ever again!
‘That was brilliant!’ Georgie cried now. ‘Worth waiting for. I was evacuated to a village in Wales, you see, at the beginning of the war,’ she explained to Mildred. ‘It was nice in the country, but there wasn’t much going on. Susan had been looking after Mummy, but then, of course, I had to come back to take over. The bombs had stopped then, anyway. The Blitz ones, I mean. But with Oscar away in the army, there was no one to take me to the theatre, and I couldn’t go on my own. So you and Oscar can take me lots now!’
Mildred had been glad of the girl’s chatter, but at the mention of Oscar’s wife again, she felt bloody angry. She’d be sorry not to see Georgie any more. She was a nice kid, and Mildred would have liked to be friends. But how could she if she wasn’t going to see Oscar again, the lying bugger?
She was so flipping furious, though, that she might as well have it out with him right now. Walking behind them, Oscar had evidently not been able to hear their conversation, so now Mildred spun round to face him.
‘Yes, Georgie told me about your wife,’ she said accusingly, her teeth gritted.
She glared up at Oscar, her eyes blazing. In the gloom from the street lamps, she saw Oscar’s face darken. As well it might!
‘Georgie, you know I don’t like anyone talking about Susan,’ he reprimanded, his gaze darting across at his sister.
‘No, I don’t suppose you do,’ Mildred retorted.
She noticed a frown flicker across Oscar’s face. ‘No, of course, I don’t,’ he mumbled. ‘It’s too upsetting.’
‘Huh, upsetting? Well, I’m pretty upset, too!’
‘What?’ Oscar’s frown deepened as he shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. Why should you be upset? It wasn’t your wife who was killed in the Blitz.’
Mildred’s jaw dropped open in horror. Flaming Harry! Oscar wasn’t married. He was widowed. She’d put her bleeding great foot in it, hadn’t she? If she’d ever wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, it was now.
‘Oh, my God, Oscar, I’m so sorry!’ she blurted out, tears of shame and remorse burning in her eyes. ‘I didn’t—’
‘So, you thought…’ Oscar interrupted. ‘Well, no wonder… I suppose Georgie didn’t explain.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar,’ Georgie squeaked. ‘I would’ve done, only it was when you were getting the programme and then we had to go straight in, and in all the excitement, it went out of my head.’
Mildred was holding her breath. Such a horrible misunderstanding. How could she have doubted Oscar like that? Could he ever forgive her? But then she heard him release a quivering sigh.
‘No, it’s my fault,’ he said, closing his eyes for a moment. ‘I should have told you about Susan before. But I really do find it so hard to talk about her.’
For once in her life, Mildred was at a loss for words. ‘I-I can understand that,’ she managed to stammer. ‘And I am blooming sorry. I added two and two and made five. It… it won’t change anything between us, will it?’
Relief broke over her as Oscar turned to her with a smile unfurling on his lips. ‘No, of course not.’
Oscar held out his hand. Mildred took it, and she felt him squeeze her fingers as they walked on down the street. Beside them, she heard Georgie give a cheeky little squeal.
Twenty-Eight
Cissie lay on her back on the old picnic blanket, gazing up through the canopy of green leaves to the clear blue sky above. On the whole, August had been a cool month, but today the sun had graced her with its presence, making her feel warm and relaxed. A gentle contentment was seeping into her flesh, and she was beginning to feel that just a small part of her was starting to mend.
On her birthday the previous year, it had felt as if her whole life had been smashed apart. The wound had been so fresh and raw, the investigations by both the civil police and the US Army police were drawing unsuccessfully to a close – and she’d known for sure that she was pregnant. She’d tried to deny it at first, telling herself it was the shock that had made her late. But morning sickness, sore, swelling breasts and a general lethargy had forced her to admit it to herself.
She’d told Sean first. He was the only person at the theatre company who knew what had really happened. Her absence of a couple of weeks after the event had been explained away by her twisted ankle. Dance had been the one place where she could temporarily forget, and even that had been taken away from her.
Dear, dependable Sean had hatched the plan, his open-minded understanding helping her through. Telling her mum and dad had been the worst part. Ron had roared like a lion, banging his clenched fist against his head. He hadn’t been able to protect his darling girl, he’d groaned aloud, and Cissie had found herself comforting him rather than the other way round. And Bridie? Well, she’d looked horrified at first. But then her Catholic soul had kicked in. Life was a gift from God, however it had come about. And she would go to the end of the earth to support her daughter and her unborn child.
Who’d have thought that, a year on, the whole family would have found a new life? Cissie knew it was mainly down to the Parkers with their down-to-earth, caring hearts. Telling Jake and Eva the truth had been such a release. She would tell Mildred, too, one day. But not yet. When the time was right.
And then there was Saul Williams. She still had the scrap of paper. She hadn’t unfolded it yet. Read the name of her attacker. Of J
ane’s father. His life was in her hands. She had that power over him. And that knowledge had given her strength.
The distant sounds of happy laughter drifted into her reverie, becoming more distinct and drawing her attention. She locked her thoughts back in their box and brought herself back to the present. She turned on her side, propping herself on one elbow. Her mum, Zac, Sean, Eva, Stan, Jake, Mildred, Primrose and Trudy, who’d come to stay with her parents for a couple of weeks, were all playing a makeshift game of cricket with a tennis ball and an old bat of Stan’s. Behind her head, Cissie knew that her dad was sitting in the wheelchair, keeping an eye on Jane who was asleep in her pram. And all around them, people were enjoying a Sunday afternoon in the park.
Mildred waved and came over, dropping onto the rug beside her.
‘You awake now, then?’ she asked in her own flippant way.
‘Yes. Must’ve dropped off,’ Cissie fibbed, as really and truly she’d pretended to be asleep because she’d just wanted a few moments to herself. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry. It’s your birthday party. Smashing idea to have a picnic in the park.’
‘Seemed a shame not to, with it being a nice day. And you’ve all been so kind. Thank you ever so much for the perfume.’
‘It was only eau de cologne.’ For once, Mildred seemed a bit awkward, making Cissie chuckle to herself. It wasn’t often Mildred appeared bashful. ‘Was the best I could afford. Or get hold of. Be nice when we can get decent stuff again. Wonder how long it’ll be before things start coming off ration.’
‘Yes, hardly been anything so far,’ Cissie agreed. ‘But when you think about it, could be years before things get back to normal.’
‘That’s what Oscar says, worse luck.’
‘Pity he couldn’t join us,’ Cissie put in. ‘Looking forward to meeting him.’
‘Yeah, so’s me mum and dad. But he’s returning a favour for someone at the depot. Easier to do it on his official day off. Sends his apologies, mind.’
