A Little Bit on the Side (27 page)

‘Hello Jack. Are they looking after you, and am I very late?’

‘Oh well within the tolerance for a busy woman of affairs, and may I say how very elegant and attractive you look - as always.’

‘Thank you Jack. Now what have they got on offer? I’ve had a difficult morning, and I’m ravenous.’

Jack ordered a bottle of wine, of which Josie took little more than half-a-glass, and for the next hour or so, over one of Bosewell’s indifferent steaks followed by an excellent pudding, he kept up his end of their conversation while delighting in the chance just to sit there, look at Josie, and speculate on his chances in the long run. As he had said to Brandy, he felt a stirring in his loins at the very thought, but realised as their lunch drew to an end that things hadn’t advanced very far, with each just learning a little more about the other, and Jack giving a heavily edited account of the break-up of his marriage. Never mind, he thought, plenty of time. Mustn’t rush things, and he called for the bill.

‘That was lovely Jack. Thank you. I’m going to be pretty busy with work and the production coming up in two weeks time, but after that we must do it again some time.’

Was that positive or negative? Jack spent the next three weeks alongside Josie at final rehearsals and throughout performance, but at the end was none the wiser.

Several months earlier Fate and Brandy had perversely decreed that the Players next production would be
A Flea in her Ear,
Feydeau’s wonderfully farcical exploration of sexual mores and masculine inadequacy, but the very play that Kate had referred to in her final letter.

For Brandy, with the acting resources at his disposal, it was a bold choice. Farce can be difficult and demanding stuff for amateurs, but with a lot of hard work he and the group pulled it off. The houses were good. The reviews in the local papers were almost wildly enthusiastic, and at the end of the week the Barlow Players were better off in funds than they had been for years. For Jack, on the other hand, it was an agonising nightly reminder of the jibe in Kate’s letter, and he was glad to see the back of it.

Things improved immediately, however, when only half-an-hour or so into the after-show party he saw Josie preparing to leave. Grasping the moment, Jack asked her if she would like to go back to the house for a quiet drink or a coffee. To his surprise she accepted, and they would have slipped away without fuss had Brandy not spotted them.

‘Goodnight, goodnight my darlings,’ he said. ‘Wonderful work by both of you. Couldn’t have done it without you. Now off you go and enjoy yourselves.’

‘Oh do shut up Brandy,’ said Josie as they left and set off together across the town towards Withy Lane and Riverside.

‘Not keen on post-show celebrations Josie?’ asked Jack.

‘Not really Jack. I went to one or two in the early days, and they tended to get rather silly as the evening wore on. Not quite my style I felt.’

They walked on through the dark and silent streets of the old town without talking, and Josie offered no objection when Jack slipped a supporting arm around her waist after she stumbled, and left it there all the way back to the house.

‘Just a white wine for me please Jack, and a dry biscuit to nibble if you have one please.’

For more than two hours they sat and talked together, much more relaxed and intimate now than at lunch or with the group. Jack’s anecdotes of life on Barton Hill earned him some laughter from Josie, and the bear collection an unwelcome renewed interest in Kate.

‘She sounds rather nice to me Jack. I think I’d like her. So what went wrong?’

‘She was, and I think you would, but as for what went wrong, perhaps some other time when we know and understand each other a little better. And if we’re talking about puzzles, what happened with the acting Josie? Don’t want to make you blush, but Brandy’s comment was that you looked ravishing, had a lovely voice and moved like a gazelle. I’d second all that by the way, but he couldn’t understand why you’d chucked it.’

‘Oh I don’t blush easily Jack, and Brandy talks a load of rubbish sometimes. He’s altogether too much of a gossip for me, but can I trust you with a confidence Jack? You come to town with a certain amount of notoriety attached: you know, your specialist activities before you came here. All the businessmen have been a bit nervous since you arrived.’

‘But not you Josie?’

‘Oh no Jack! I think you’re a lovely man. Not pushy and shovey like some of the others.’

‘Well as for trusting me, my old friend the Rev Larry Breakwell up on the hill always said that unlikely as it is, taxmen and priests have one thing in common: the secrets of the confessional. There’s a recommendation for you. So what happened with the acting?’

‘Oh I’m well aware Jack that men think I’m ravishing, as Brandy puts it, but doesn’t the very word say it all? And I know full well what most of them are thinking when they look at me. Not that I mind the thought: complimentary I suppose, if I can be objective about it. But in the group I always got lumbered with the young romantic leads, and I just got tired of all the kissing and close-contact stuff that came with them. Too many of the men seemed to feel it gave them some sort of licence backstage. Too much hugging, touching and sticking heads round the door when they knew I was changing. All very tiresome. Best to drop it altogether, and keep them at arm’s length.’

‘And I’m arm’s length am I Josie: sort of semidetached?’

‘Now why on earth do you say that? No that’s not what I mean at all. But you don’t come on at me as some of the others did. I like that.’

‘Sorry. A rather poor in-joke with Kate. Forget it. Nothing to do with us.’

‘Good, now that’s out of the way. Well it’s getting late, and I have to go soon, but now that we know one another a little better I wondered whether you’d like to go with me to the opera in the next month or so. I know you’re a straight theatre man at heart, but it’s Domingo in
Otello
at Covent Garden, and I have a London contact who tells me he has tickets. I’m sure you’d be converted.’

‘Well I’d love to hear Domingo, but that’s a hell of a long haul for a night at the opera Josie. Over three hours each way.’

‘Oh I wasn’t thinking we’d come back the same night Jack. In fact I thought we might go up the day before, and have the two nights in town together … Well don’t just sit there silent. You do want to sleep with me don’t you?’

After what she’d said only a few moments earlier Jack looked at her speechless, half in amazement and half in admiration at the calm way in which she had dropped her bombshell. Then he burst into laughter.

‘Oh Josie, you’re priceless. After all you said about men earlier. Of course I want to sleep with you. In fact I thought and hoped we might adventure a little beyond sleeping.’

‘Good, now we’ve got that settled. I’ll organise the tickets tomorrow, and book a room at a really lovely little hotel I know. You will be able to get time off in the week will you? I hate London at weekends.’

‘Josie, for this I’d go AWOL.’

‘Of course you would. And we go Dutch on this Jack. No arguments. I’ll arrange everything, and we’ll sort it out later. Now kiss me goodnight’

Josie telephoned him the following evening.

‘Thursday week for the opera Jack. We’re almost central in the Grand Tier: excellent view and pretty good sound. We’ll go up in the morning and stay over that night and Friday, returning on Saturday. Will that suit?’

‘Anything would suit Josie. Can we meet before then?’

‘Not sure about that Jack. I think it might spoil things…. No I think not. Pick me up at home about ten on the Thursday. We’ll get the next train up, and that will give us time to drop our things off at the hotel and have just a light snack before the performance. That’s all I ever want before a show. Is that OK?’

‘A torment to wait, but otherwise absolutely perfect.’

‘Love you. Bye.’

Love you: Jack didn’t allow himself to attach too much significance to that. He understood that his relationship with Josie was going to be altogether different from that with Kate, and was intrigued at the prospect before him.

With Josie making the arrangements they travelled First Class to Paddington and took a taxi to Le Rendezvous, a little hotel in Montague Street, just behind the British Museum, where Josie seemed to be quite well known.

‘So nice to see you again Miss Adams. Quite a while now since you were last with us. It’s the same little suite that you said you liked so much on your previous visit. Let me take your cases for you.’

‘Thank you George. Not retired yet then?’

‘Oh no miss. Can’t afford to.’

Jack wasn’t by nature a parsimonious man, but even before he saw the suite he’d got the measure of Josie’s ‘lovely little hotel’ from the decor and furnishing of the hall, and was making some rough calculations of his share of the probable final cost. First class on the train, taxi to hotel, mini-suite in a ‘Boutique Hotel’ and Grand Tier at the opera: just about as much as he’d paid a few years earlier for an extended weekend for two when he took Kate to Venice. For a moment he felt a twinge of regret at the thought of that, but he kept his eyes on Josie’s shapely legs leading the way up the stairs ahead of him, and it didn’t trouble him for long.

Pressing a generous acknowledgment into George’s hand as he closed the door, Jack looked around at a modest-sized sitting-room very comfortably furnished which opened into a spacious bedroom with en-suite facilities that Jack could only have described as sumptuous: he added ten percent to his rough calculations. Both rooms overlooked a well-maintained area of common gardens shaded by trees.

‘Now it will take me a while to unpack and take a shower before we leave for the ROH, but if you want to come in to shave or freshen up don’t be embarrassed.’

Jack held that thought in his mind for a while with some pleasure. He found the prospect immensely attractive but ultimately rather voyeuristic, as he knew that he had more than enough time to freshen up while Josie unpacked. This he did, and then returned to the sitting-room leaving Josie to proceed at leisure.

Opening the window he let in the incessant background hum of London’s traffic, and lighting a cigarette looked out across the trees to the parallel terrace of house, and wondered how things were with the family. The last time he’d spoken with his sister she’d told him that their grandmother seemed to be failing at last, but on this occasion he didn’t really want to get tangled up with a family visit, even if it was only a few miles up the road.

Disturbed by a noise, he looked round to catch a glimpse of Josie, only half-covered by her bath robe, slipping into the bedroom to get dressed. It was enough for him to realise that had he then been told that Domingo had let them down and the performance been cancelled he would not have been overwhelmed by disappointment, but there was nothing for it: he would just have to be patient.

Allowing Josie enough time to dress, he then returned to sit and watch her putting the final touches to her presentation for the evening, and had to admire the skill with which she applied her cosmetics.

‘It’s always been a mystery to me how women do that with such skill,’ he said. ‘It’s a bit like the master-painter adding that final touch of red to a composition of blues and greys that brings the whole scene to life. Very skilful.’

She smiled, looked hard at her reflection in the mirror, and then stood up in front of him.

‘Will I do?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely bloody gorgeous Josie.’

‘Very delicately put Jack…. No, not a kiss before we leave. Mustn’t spoil the wet paint. Now we’ll order a taxi to go, but stroll back afterwards. It’s only about fifteen minutes from here. I’d better give you the tickets. I don’t want to be fiddling about with them in the theatre.’

It had been an unspoken understanding that Jack paid for taxis, tips and all other cash outgoings of their time in town. It was all very discreetly done, no divvying up in public, but he had no doubt that when Josie said they were going Dutch she meant it, and that she would insist on a strict final accounting.

Arriving in the crush bar in good time to find seats at one of the small side tables, they sat each with a glass of wine and a couple of smoked salmon sandwiches, the cost of which had been an utter revelation to Jack. Did people actually come here regularly, he wondered, and then realised that Josie, if not a regular, obviously knew her way around. As Brandy had once put it, she must be a very warm woman in her own right.

He noticed too, how frequently other men seemed to let their looks linger on Josie just a little too long, and recalled Josie’s earlier comment about that. Well he thought, as Josie said, let them enjoy their dreams: I’m the chap with the reality ahead of me. And at the thought of that reality he wondered whether he really was going to be able to keep his mind on a performance which he knew had received rave reviews, rather than the later part of the evening. He knew he could be totally involved and easily moved by a piece of good theatre: to tears at times, something that Kate had always found embarrassing. He had no idea, though, how he might respond to the operatic format.

Throughout the first act he enjoyed the music and appreciated the quality of the singing, but felt that on the whole he really would rather be watching the Shakespeare. At the end of second act, however, as the lights came up for the interval, Josie turned to him with a smile and the simple question, ‘Well?’ And Jack found that he was so choked with excitement that for a few moments he was unable to speak, and could only shake his head.

‘Are you alright Jack?’

‘Oh absolutely. Totally overwhelming though. I could feel my heart pounding.’

‘I thought you were breathing a bit heavily.’

‘Oh, I thought the heavy breathing came later.’

‘That’s enough Jack. You’re in the Grand Tier remember. Now buy me a drink.’

They returned to the crush bar, now rather a noisy scrum, where Jack, with a glass in each hand, turned from the counter to find himself face to face with Mar-tindale and almost tipping the wine on to his shirt front. The recognition was instant and mutual.