A Dream of her Own (48 page)
The wedding had been arranged to take place during the brief break before the pantomime opened. Harry had cancelled rehearsals and the whole cast came to sit on Nella’s side of the cathedral. They were her family, along with Lucy, Alice, and Mr and Mrs Small and their lodgers. But Constance, the nearest person to family that Nella had ever had, had been unable to come.
On the bridegroom’s side were Italian relatives from all over the north of England, along with prosperous business folk and almost the entire staff of the restaurant. Jimmy Nelson, in the best suit he had ever owned, was instructed to look after Madame Alvini and keep her supplied with clean handkerchiefs.
Outside, in the streets, crowds of people waited to catch a glimpse of the golden couple: Nella Nicholson, the famous stage star, Tyneside’s own Little Sparrow, and Valentino, the handsome master of Alvini’s.
When Harry escorted Nella down the aisle there was a gasp of wonder from the congregation. Her ivory satin dress was covered with hundreds of seed pearls and the train, carried by two small Italian cousins, was arranged so skilfully that it completely obscured the shape of her shoulders.
The candles, the incense, the scent of the massed white flowers made Nella think she was living a romantic dream. Valentino was waiting with Frank by the altar and, when he turned to face her, and she lifted back her veil, his expression of wonder was enough to fill her heart with love for the rest of her days.
When they left the church the crowd cheered and threw rice and flower petals. The cheering continued as the carriage took them up Grainger Street, then along Neville Street, where the cast from the Empire came out to wave them by. Another crowd was waiting in the Haymarket and they roared with delight when Valentino descended from the carriage and then lifted Nella up into his arms to carry her into Alvini’s.
During the wedding breakfast he had not stopped smiling until the last guest had gone. He had been almost like an actor, Nella thought, playing the part of the happy bridegroom. He knew what was expected of him. But once they were alone the smile had been replaced by a slight frown.
In fact there had been a moment when he had seemed puzzled that his new wife intended to share his bedroom. When Nella had emerged from behind the screen where she had undressed and put on her nightgown, she’d found him standing frowning uncertainly in the middle of the room.
Before she could say anything there’d been a knock on the door and his mother came in carrying a tray with two cups of warm milk and honey. ‘Here you are, Valentino,’ she had said. ‘One for you and one for your wife.’
‘Ah yes, my wife.’ His smile had returned and he’d climbed into the bed, which was big enough for the two of them to lie there all night without bothering each other.
He was so childlike that Nella sometimes wondered why he didn’t at least want a cuddle, but she supposed that it was better that he didn’t. There might just be enough manhood there to cause her trouble if he got roused.
So tonight, like every other night, he had been content to get into bed and close his eyes almost as if she wasn’t there. When at last she was sure that he was fast asleep, she eased herself away from him to the edge of the bed and then lowered her feet to the floor. Her limbs jolted painfully. Even though she didn’t walk about much on stage, she had to stand a lot and it was beginning to tell.
Harry had mentioned that he might devise an act for her where she could sit on a swing and move gently to and fro while she sang. She had quite liked the idea until Lucy reminded them of Rose Kelly, billed as ‘The Little Flower Girl’, who used to swing out over the audience tossing scented paper rose petals as she sang. Her career ended one night when she fell off the swing into the orchestra pit and broke her back. So Harry was having to think again.
By the light of the oil-lamp that was always left burning low on the bedside table, Nella reached for a large paisley shawl and draped it round herself. She pushed her feet into her slippers and left the room as quietly as she could. Late as it was, she could hear sounds from the restaurant echoing up from below, so Frank would not be in bed yet. Good.
He was alone and the room was quiet. He sat at the table with his books, illumined in a pool of light, and he looked up in surprise as Nella came in and shut the door behind her.
‘Is something wrong?’ The muscles of his face, slack with fatigue, suddenly tautened with alarm; he stood up, pushing his books aside. ‘Valentino? Is he—’
‘Valentino is sleeping like a baby,’ Nella laughed softly. ‘Why do they say that? Sleeping like a baby? The babies I remember from the workhouse seemed to cry all night and keep everybody else awake.’
‘Come and sit down.’ Frank pulled one of the chairs away from the table. ‘I think the saying means that babies are so innocent that they have no wicked thoughts to keep them from sleeping. But the poor scraps of humanity in the workhouse were probably too hungry to sleep.’
Nella settled herself in the chair and waited until Frank resumed his place at the other side of the table. She looked at the books and papers spread out over the chenille cloth. ‘You work so hard,’ she said.
‘It’s what I want to do.’ He smiled and she saw that you didn’t have to be handsome to be attractive. ‘But why are you out of bed when you should be sleeping?’ he asked. ‘Are you ill?’
‘No, although it’s a wonder I divven’t hev indigestion every night, the amount of food yer ma expects me to eat.’
‘She enjoys looking after you.’
‘I know, and I’m grateful ...’
‘But?’
‘Frank, I’ve thought about how I was gannin’ to say this but there’s no other way except to come right out with it. I want to leave here.’
‘You want to leave Valentino? It would break his heart.’
‘Divven’t look at me like that. Of course I divven’t want to leave Valentino. I want him to come with me. I can afford to buy me own place - and before you object, I can afford to pay people to look after us, Jimmy Nelson included. In fact I want a house big enough to allow the lad to live with us so that he can get more sleep than he does now.’
Frank stared at her. He had picked up one of his pencils and he was twisting it round. Nella noticed how well-shaped and supple his fingers were. ‘That would make sense, of course,’ he said, ‘having Jimmy and perhaps your own personal maid to live with you and be there all the time.’
‘I’ve already got a lass in mind for the position: Alice, a girl I used to work with. She’s young but she’s strong and I think I could teach her my ways.’
‘Whereas my mother is old and getting weary - and she would never learn new ways!’
‘God bless her, why should she? But she still wants to treat Valentino like a child ... and me too. It might seem odd to you, being the way we are, but yer brother and I are like many another married couple - we’d be better off in our own place. And you know that you would nivver hev to worry about Valentino; not while he has me.’
‘Yes, I do know that and I think my mother sensed it right from the start too. She saw what kind of person you are.’
Nella grinned. ‘And what kind of person is that?’
‘Someone who can be trusted. Someone who would not break promises. Someone who would be loyal and true.’
‘Give over!’
Frank laughed when he saw her expression. ‘I’m not joking. And I think you are right about leaving here. And right to come to me; I’ll explain things to my mother. She will understand that a woman wants to be mistress of her own kitchen.’
‘Kitchen!’ Nella assumed an expression of mock horror. ‘After the years I spent in the kitchen at Rye Hill, I nivver want to set foot in a kitchen again. And if you mean cooking, then I intend to hire the best cook I can afford!’
‘Then be careful that my mother does not apply for the job.’
They smiled at each other and Nella thought how much she liked this man. When he fulfilled his ambition and became a doctor, his patients would be very lucky.
‘That’s that, then. I’d better get back to bed,’ she said.
‘Wait, Nella. There’s something I want to ask you.’
He looked embarrassed and Nella thought that he might be going to question her about his brother ... about whether everything was working out all right as far as the marriage bed was concerned.
So she was surprised when he said. ‘Your friend ... the girl who came to the coffee shop that day...?’
‘Constance?’
‘Yes, Constance Edington. How did you meet her?’
She wanted to ask him why he wanted to know, but she saw that he couldn’t meet her eyes. Suddenly Nella remembered Constance staring down into an empty teacup when she had mentioned Frank and she felt the same twinge of unease as she had done that day. She hoped she was wrong. There was no hope down that path.
She saw that Frank was gripping his pencil so tightly that she feared it might snap. ‘Constance and I worked together at the Sowerbys’ house,’ she told him. ‘But we first met when we were children.’
‘How?’ At last his curiosity made him look up and Nella saw that he was trying to imagine how two such different children could possibly have crossed paths.
‘In the workhouse when she arrived there with her ma.’
‘I see. Poor Constance.’
‘Poor me!’
‘Of course . . . I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, divven’t worry, I know what you mean.’ Nella sighed. ‘Constance is a lady, there’s no question. And me? Well, I don’t even know who me feyther is.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘See? I can’t even speak proper!’
‘Don’t, Nella. You have done very well and I’m sure Constance values you for what you are.’
‘Do you, Frank? Well, I always hoped so. But since she got married I just divven’t know.’
‘She married John Edington.’
‘You know him?’
‘He comes here, to the restaurant ... or rather to one of the private dining rooms.’
‘With a woman?’ She couldn’t disguise her dismay.
‘No, not with a woman. With a - a friend of his, Matthew Elliot. They - they like to be alone together.’
He looked at her as if he wanted to say more and, after a short silence, she answered his unspoken question. ‘I understand.’
‘Do you?’
‘I’ve learned a lot in the theatre besides how to work an audience, Frank, and I’ve nothing against those fellows. Live and let live is what Harry says. But I still can’t help thinking poor, poor Constance.’
‘Yes, poor Constance,’ Frank echoed, and the pencil he was holding snapped in two.
It was still pitch-black when Polly opened the back door. She was expecting to see her sister, and Jane was standing there sure enough, but so was Albert Green.
‘What are you doing here at this time of the morning?’
‘That’s a nice way to greet your sweetheart!’
Jane burst into giggles and slipped by into the kitchen. Polly smiled. ‘Come on in out of the cold, you big daft lump. I’ve just put the kettle on. Jane, have you had any breakfast?’
Her younger sister shook her head and Polly brought a loaf of bread and a bowl of dripping from the pantry. ‘Here you are.’ She gave Albert the bread knife. ‘Make yourself useful and cut us a slice each. Jane, when you’ve hung your coat up, fetch the cups and saucers. Lucky I got the fire going, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, you’ll make some lucky fellow a grand wife,’ Albert said, and he winked at Jane, who giggled even more than before.
‘Hush!’ Polly admonished. ‘We don’t want to wake anybody up before we’ve had this little time to ourselves.’
For, of course, she hadn’t really been surprised to see Albert. He had taken to calling by first thing whenever he was on early shift, just to spend some time with her, even though it meant getting out of bed at least an hour earlier than he needed to.
Polly relished the early mornings. She didn’t mind getting up to get the range going, though, strictly speaking, that was one of Jane’s duties now. In the morning, when the house was quiet, she could spend time with her sister and spoil her a little, for God knew how hard the girl’s life was in the overcrowded slum where the rest of the family lived.
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