Dreaming Out Loud (22 page)

Tony had enjoyed being well thought of and was unwilling to risk the loss of his reputation. He would have to pull himself together, as his father had told him when he had confided in him. He must also try to be kinder to Julie, and to suppress the real reason for his despondency: his unrelenting and mystifying yearning for Kay.

At this time of night, away from the main road, the streets were quiet, and Tom heard a phone begin to ring when he was still some distance from his flat. The nearer he drew, the more convinced he was that it was his. He began to hurry. Like most people, he believed that a phone call at night meant there was some kind of emergency. In his case it could be something to do with work; there might have been a breakthrough, some dramatic development. But if the call was not from the station, there was only one other person who would call him. Kay. However, he doubted that it would be her. He might be imagining it, but he thought she had been a little distant lately. Well, not exactly distant, but quiet and perhaps a little reserved. It shouldn’t have mattered to him, but it did. Uncharacteristically, he found himself fumbling when he put his key in the lock. He was expecting the caller to lose patience and ring off any moment, so he slammed the door behind him, strode across the tiny hall and grabbed the receiver. ‘Yes?’ When he heard who it was he said, ‘I told you never to call me here.’

‘Then why did you give me the number?’

‘For emergencies. You know that.’

‘Well, this is an emergency. Just listen to me, will you?’ She sounded hysterical, but then she often did.

Tom sighed and resigned himself to standing in the draughty hall. ‘Go on then, tell me what’s so urgent.’ After a few minutes he cut in to the agitated flow. ‘For God’s sake, Dora, he’s eighteen years old; he’s entitled to go out for a drink.’

‘I know that, but you know what he’s like. Easily led. His so-called friends could get him into trouble.’

‘They’re not bad lads – high-spirited, perhaps, but they’ve never been in trouble,’ Tom said wearily.

‘So far.’

‘And Ricky’s not easily led. He’s just quieter and more thoughtful than the others. He wouldn’t do anything stupid.’

‘Then where is he?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The pubs are closed. Why isn’t he home yet?’

Tom looked at his watch and sighed in exasperation. ‘Twenty minutes, Dora. The pubs closed twenty minutes ago. He’ll be on his way.’

‘It doesn’t take twenty minutes to get home from the local.’

‘Maybe he didn’t go to the local. Maybe the lads wanted to try somewhere new.’

‘Or maybe they’ve gone into town to one of those jazz clubs,’ Dora said. ‘The ones in cellars. They can get drink there – and worse.’

‘You mean drugs?’

‘Yes. You’re a policeman. You know very well what I mean. I don’t know what London’s coming to.’

Tom had been expecting that. Dora thought that ever since the war, the world they had known was descending rapidly into hell.

‘Dora, what’s happening isn’t new. Believe me, it’s always been easy to get drugs or to drink after hours. Do you really think Ricky would be so stupid as to indulge in anything so dangerous? You’ve done a good job with him. You coped when the two of you were on your own during the war. You brought him up to be a fine young man. Sometimes I think that you don’t know your own son.’

There was a short silence and Tom thought that was the end of it, but Dora changed tack. ‘You promised you’d come home at least once a week.’

‘I said I would if it were possible.’

‘Well, you haven’t.’

‘I’m working on a case. More than one, but this one’s important. I’m leading the team; I have to be accessible – ready for action.’

‘Oh, yeah, Mr Big, aren’t you? Well, it’s taking you long enough, isn’t it? The next thing you’ll be telling me is that you won’t be home for Christmas.’

‘Of course I will. I’m pretty sure we’ll be wrapping it up very soon.’

Tom was lying. He wasn’t sure at all. This investigation had been going on for nearly a year, and there had been no hint of Jane making a run for it. There was simply nothing anybody could do but wait.

It was worrying. The Yard had had to commit quite large resources to this assignment. There had been some scaling down, but the police would never give up on a case of murder. Tom had to manage his time carefully between this and other cases. It was fortunate that he had a good team. Not one of the men had ever complained about the long hours spent keeping the house under observation. Tom smiled wryly. He imagined that some of their wives were getting as fed up as Dora was.

‘I suppose you think it’s funny that you keep us guessing whether you’ll be here to carve the turkey and set light to the Christmas pudding!’

‘Dora – stop this! We’re getting nowhere.’

He expected tears but was saved when he heard a noise in the background. ‘Where have you been?’ Dora asked. ‘I’ve been so worried.’

It seemed that Ricky had come home. Tom heard his voice, and although he couldn’t make out the words it sounded as though he was soothing his mother. After a moment or two she actually laughed. She would be all right now. Ricky understood Dora and could always make her see reason. Tom felt guilty about leaving him to cope with the situation, but Dora didn’t even say goodnight to him before putting the phone down. Thankful that the latest crisis was over, Tom followed suit.

He hung up his coat and went through to the unwelcoming living room. No matter that he fed the meter with sufficient pennies to have the fire on as long as he liked, the place never felt really warm – unless Kay was there. He went through to the tiny kitchen and put the kettle on. When he had made himself a cup of tea he added a shot of whisky and then sat down on the sagging sofa and tried to relax.

He examined his conscience and knew that he had not been entirely fair to Dora. She had come to rely on him so much. Even though his job was demanding and could mean long hours, until now he hadn’t begrudged her his time and attention. Now all his thoughts were filled with Kay. And they shouldn’t be. What he had done was totally unfair.

The incident with the Christmas tree had been a giant stroke of luck as far as work was concerned. Early on in the investigation he had planned to find some way into Kay Lockwood’s house by making friends with her or Shirley, the girl who worked for the BBC. A casual friend. That was all he was supposed to be. Just sufficiently familiar with the girls so that he could call and visit now and then. It wasn’t the plan to attach himself to just one of them. That was why he had decided to arrange meals out or even trips to the cinema for all three girls.

But it hadn’t worked out that way and it wasn’t entirely his fault. From the beginning Shirley and Jane had got it into their heads that he was smitten with Kay. Perhaps he had been, although he hadn’t realised it until it was too late. As for the other two, Shirley had welcomed him as a friend but Jane Mullen remained a little detached. She kept herself to herself, and she was obviously wary of any stranger, but he didn’t think she had guessed that, for a very different reason, she was the one he was interested in.

Part Three

Chapter Twenty

Northridge Bay, 1931

The shower of rain had been short but fierce, and the wind blowing in from the sea had caught up the wet leaves and plastered them on the window panes. Sunday lunch had been as good as ever and everyone felt sleepy. The girls from the show went up to bed for a rest and Jack, after helping Thelma with the dishes, suggested that she should have a nap, too.

She smiled wearily at him. ‘What about these two?’ She gestured towards the children, who were sitting with their toys on the breakfast room floor.

‘It won’t be long before that one is in dreamland.’ Jack smiled and nodded his head in the direction of his younger daughter. Julie had abandoned the building blocks and was sucking her thumb and clutching her panda bear to her chest with the other hand. ‘I’ll carry her up,’ he said.

He returned a moment later and Thelma looked at him questioningly.

‘She’s fast asleep,’ he said.

‘But what about Kay?’

They both looked at their elder daughter. She looked back and smiled brightly.

‘I’ll sing her off to sleep. It usually works.’ Jack bent down and swept her into his arms. Straight away she snuggled into his embrace and looked up at him with adoration as he began to sing her favourite lullaby.

Thelma loved listening to Jack’s pleasant tenor voice but, weary from looking after the house, the lodgers and her two small children, she couldn’t suppress a yawn. Soon Kay’s eyes were closing and Jack turned to leave the room. He stopped in the doorway, looked over his shoulder and mouthed, ‘Come up.’

In spite of her exhaustion, Thelma felt a surge of desire, and while Jack settled Kay in the nursery with her sister, she slipped into their bedroom and undressed before getting into bed. The silence was peaceful. It was almost as if the house itself had gone to sleep. Thelma stretched her hot limbs in the pleasantly cool sheets. She smiled in anticipation of the pleasure that was to come.

But when Jack came to join her he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to make love to her. He sat on the bed and took one of her hands. ‘Tired, sweetheart?’ he asked.

‘Not
too
tired.’ Thelma felt herself flushing at how suggestive she sounded. She had never learned how to initiate lovemaking but had always waited for Jack to lead the way. Over the years he had done so more and more infrequently, and Thelma didn’t know either the words or the actions that would tell him she desired him. This was the nearest she had come to letting him know that she wanted him to make love to her, and when he shook his head she felt hot with shame.

‘I mustn’t be selfish, darling,’ Jack said. ‘You work so hard and you deserve a rest.’

Thelma wanted to scream at him that she deserved much more than that, but she turned her head into the pillow to hide the hot tears that were coursing down her cheeks.

‘Shall I sing you to sleep?’ Jack asked, and without waiting for a reply, he let go of her hand and pulled the bedclothes up around her shoulders. He began to sing the same lullaby that he sang to the children.

Thelma forced herself to lie still and breathe gently as though she were on the verge of sleeping. After a while he stopped singing and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead.

‘When I come back I’ll bring you a cup of tea,’ he whispered.

‘Come back?’

‘I’ve got to go to the theatre and work on some new dance routines.’

‘Oh, of course. Dance routines.’ She knew she sounded sarcastic and she steeled herself as she waited for Jack’s reaction.

But all he said was, ‘That’s right. Now let yourself relax and go to sleep.’

Thelma kept her eyes tight shut and held her breath until she heard the door close behind him. Then she pulled the bedclothes over her head so that she would not disturb the children, and began to cry in earnest.

Jack was angry. Angry with Thelma, who was entirely innocent, and angry with himself, because he knew he was behaving badly. He knew very well that he had been neglecting Thelma, and until now she had never complained. She hadn’t exactly complained today, but she had made it plain enough that she wanted him to make love to her. If only he could have done so out of kindness. He winced at the words. But every time he had forced himself to make love to his wife he felt that he was betraying the woman he truly loved: Lana.

The lower promenade was glistening because of the recent rain, and puddles had formed where the paving was uneven. Here and there lay an ice cream wrapper, empty crisp packets, or a twist of paper that had contained boiled sweets, and the waste bins were overflowing. Jack kicked a deflated beach ball angrily. Anyone coming to the theatre would have to walk past this mess, but every time he complained to the council they promised to empty the bins more frequently and then forgot all about it.

In his office Jack switched on the electric fire and put the kettle on. When his tea was ready he added a more than generous shot of whisky to his cup. The theatre was cold and damp smelling, but Jack couldn’t lay the blame for this on the council, or at anyone’s door but his own. When he had signed the yearly contract it had been made clear to him that for as long as he was the tenant he would be responsible for the upkeep of the building.

He would have to do something about it, he supposed, just as he would have to breathe some life into this year’s show – even at this stage of the season. Audiences had been falling off, and despite his malaise, he had too much pride to accept any more disappointing reviews.

Today he had not been lying to Thelma. He really did intend to work on some new routines and inject some new life into the show. In the past he had used it as an excuse to get out of the house, and he had long suspected that Thelma knew that. He had not missed the sarcasm she had injected into the words ‘dance routines’, but he had chosen to ignore it. The theatre was the only place where he could telephone Lana.

‘Jack! What kept you?’ Lana sounded fretful.

‘I had to get the children to sleep.’

‘Why?’

‘Thelma looked exhausted. She needed a nap.’

‘I see. Good of you to be so concerned,’ Lana said dryly.

‘Don’t be jealous, darling. Thelma works hard; she deserves some consideration.’

‘Of course she does. And I am jealous, I admit it. I can’t bear thinking about all the cosy little scenes you and Thelma and your daughter must have together.’

‘I have two daughters.’

‘Yes, but only one of them is mine.’

Lana was sounding more and more overwrought and Jack’s anger returned. He tried hard to control it. ‘There was a time when you could have settled for cosy little scenes as you call them, but you wanted your career more than you wanted me.’

There was a brief silence followed by a stifled sob. Then she said, ‘It doesn’t help for me to admit that. I’ve thought about this many times, and I’ve begun to wonder why you didn’t act more forcefully. Oh, Jack, why didn’t you make me stay with you?’

‘We both know that nothing I said or did would have persuaded you. Not when success on the London stage was beckoning you.’

This time the silence was longer. ‘I’ve made us both miserable, haven’t I?’

‘You would have been even more miserable if you had given up your ambitions, wouldn’t you?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘And it isn’t all bad, is it? Look how successful you’ve been.’

‘But what about you, Jack?’

‘I have Kay. Every time I look at her I’m reminded of you.’

Lana sighed. ‘I know you’re trying to be kind, but that makes me even more jealous. You can see Kay every day. I only have snatched visits in between engagements. And when I do come Thelma hovers over us all the time.’

‘I don’t deny that, but at least she has never stopped you coming.’

‘And now you have another daughter. You and Thelma together. That must make you close. Jack . . . Are you there?’

‘Yes, I’m here, but I might as well not be.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I look forward all week to Sunday when I can slip away and phone you, and today you seem to be determined to quarrel.’

‘I don’t want to quarrel. I just want you to know how I feel.’

‘Well, you’ve told me, and I can’t do anything about any of it. So we might as well say goodbye.’

‘Goodbye? No . . . Jack!’

Jack realised what she was thinking. ‘I only mean that we should end this call, and hopefully by next week you will be more like the Lana I love so desperately.’

‘Desperately? Do you really love me desperately?’

She sounded eager for reassurance and Jack laughed softly. ‘You know I do.’

‘Then why won’t you leave Thelma and Julie and bring Kay to me? I’m sure you could find work in London. A man of your talents.’

‘Maybe so, but I’d never be as successful as you and I don’t fancy playing second fiddle.’

‘You see? You don’t love me, do you? Otherwise you wouldn’t mind playing second fiddle, as you call it. Or any damn fiddle.’ Lana’s voice rose and there was a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

‘Lana, let me keep my pride. And in any case, I can’t leave my daughter. I love Julie as much as I love Kay.’ He held his breath but there was no reaction from Lana, so he carried on, ‘And I can’t leave Thelma now. You know I can’t. Thelma isn’t like you. She wouldn’t survive on her own.’

‘Poor old Thelma!’

Jack paused. ‘Do you want to end this call?’

‘No, and I’m sorry for giving you a hard time.’ Lana sounded genuinely contrite. ‘Especially when I have such good news to tell you. Or perhaps it’s because of my news.’

Relieved to hear her more like herself, Jack laughed. ‘What is your news, darling? Have you won a leading role? Perhaps in Terence Rattigan’s new play?’

‘Oh, that? As a matter of fact, the lead was offered to me but I turned it down.’

‘You turned down the lead in what could be the most exciting play of the century so far? Why on earth did you do that?’

‘Because I’ve had another offer.’

‘And that is?’

‘A part in a movie!’

‘Forgive me, but what’s so special about that? You’ve been in several movies.’

‘I know. But not in Hollywood.’

‘
Hollywood?
’

‘Yes. Why do you sound so surprised?’

‘I’m not surprised. I’m stunned.’

‘Aren’t you pleased for me?’

‘Of course I am. I’m thrilled for you. I’m just surprised that a moment ago you wanted me to bring Kay and live with you. How could I afford to live in America?’

‘Oh, you wouldn’t have had to worry about that. The money I’m being offered is amazing. More than I was paid for my six British movies put together.’

‘Congratulations. No one deserves this more than you do.’ Jack put the receiver down and ended the call.

Sitting in his poky, now overheated, little office he stared at the telephone and counted the seconds before it would ring. He knew it would, but when it did he didn’t answer. He was shocked by his reaction. Shocked that Lana’s good luck could affect him so devastatingly. If she went to Hollywood, and if she did well, it might be years before he saw her again. He didn’t know if he could bear that.

He stared into his cup of tea and then picked it up. It was cold.
Is my heart breaking?
he thought whimsically. Some lines from Shakespeare’s
As You Like
It
came to mind: ‘Men have died from time to time, And worms have eaten them, But not for love.’

No, he wasn’t going to die, but the prospect of Lana being at the other side of the Atlantic for God knows how long was like a living death. He sighed. At least he had Kay – the little girl who was so like her mother that every time he looked at her his heart would break all over again.

‘Jack? Jack! Jack, you beast, are you still there?’

When Lana realised what Jack had done, she put her own receiver down and started dialling. After a while she crashed her receiver down and tried again. And again. And again.

Moira, who had been an unwilling listener to the conversation, rose from her chair, took the receiver from Lana and put it down. ‘I’m going to make you a cup of tea,’ she said, ‘and I think we should sit in the kitchen. It’s more cosy in there.’

‘Tea! Cosy! I despair of you, Moira,’ Lana said tetchily. ‘Here we are in the most fashionable sitting room you’ve ever seen, a room I employed an interior designer to create for me, and you want to sit in the kitchen!’

‘Yes, I do,’ Moira said. ‘There’s an autumn chill in the air, and despite your new electric fire, this fashionable room is cold. I’m going to sit in the kitchen. Are you coming?’

‘Don’t bully me.’

Moira smiled at her. ‘I’m not bullying you, Lana. You’re obviously in a foul mood and I think you need to sit somewhere warm and comfortable and tell me all about it.’

Moira didn’t wait for an answer. She led the way to the kitchen where she put the kettle on and began to get cups and saucers out.

Lana followed and said grumpily, ‘You heard the telephone conversation. What more is there to say?’

‘I heard one side of it.’

‘But surely you could guess what Jack was saying from my responses?’

‘I suppose I could. Here, drink this tea. You’re shivering. Take your cup and sit in the chair by the fire.’

Lana did as she was told but she remained unsmiling. ‘So what more do you want me to tell you?’

‘First I’ll tell you. I don’t think you were fair to Jack.’

‘Oh, so you’re going to take his side.’

‘It’s not a matter of sides. If it were, I would take your side no matter how unreasonable you were being.’

‘So you think I’m being unreasonable?’

‘I do. But Jack is being unreasonable, too.’

Lana sighed and sipped her tea. ‘So tell me what I should do?’

‘You know what you’re going to do. You’re going to go to Hollywood and become an even bigger star than you are already. I know you pretty well, Lana, and nothing will come in the way of your ambition, so it’s totally unfair of you to expect Jack to leave Thelma and his younger daughter and bring Kay to you. What kind of life would he have being second fiddle, as he put it, to a movie star? And it would be unfair to Kay as well.’