HIS OTHER SON (19 page)

           
‘Well
that’s splendid. Look, would you think me awfully presumptuous if I asked you
to meet me for coffee tomorrow?’

           
‘Yes,’
she said. ‘I think I would. Anyway, I can’t tomorrow. I have rehearsals.’

           
‘And
don’t they allow you a meal break during rehearsals? They allow you time off
for lunch, don’t they?’

           
‘No…
yes… I don’t know,’ Meg said.

‘Well,
perhaps you can ring me tomorrow when you know what time your break is.’ He
reeled off a telephone number before Meg could pick up a pencil and scribble it
down on the pad next to the phone. Meg asked him to repeat it.

           
Crawford
did so, slowly enunciating each number. ‘Have you got that now?’

           
Meg
read it back to him. ‘May I ask why?’ she added.

           
‘Why what?’
Crawford said.

           
‘Why
you should want to take me for coffee?’

           
There
was a pause, and it sounded as if he was laughing softly. ‘Call it idle
curiosity,’ he said at last and hung up.

           
Meg
stared at the handset, listening to the soft purr of the dial tone. Finally she
shook her head and set the receiver down in its cradle.

           
‘Idle
curiosity,’ she repeated. She wasn’t sure she was keen on that. She pulled
herself up short. ‘Oh, stop it!’ she chided. ‘It’s just coffee!’

According to the rules of the house
breakfast was served during the hours of seven thirty and nine thirty, with
guests being required to vacate their rooms between the hours of ten thirty and
four pm. Meg entered the dining room at eight. There were six tables laid for
breakfast, one occupied by a young couple she hadn’t yet met. In fact, apart
from Gareth, she’d neither seen nor heard any of the other guests at the
boarding house, but then being billeted in the roof of the house that was
hardly surprising. The young couple turned and smiled as she entered the room
and Meg wished them good morning. Pleasantries over the couple turned away,
devoting all their attention to each other. Meg wondered if they were
newly-weds here on their honeymoon.

           
A
few minutes later Mrs
Gafney
bustled in, wiping her
hands on a floral-print apron. She placed a pot of tea down in front of Meg.
‘Eggs, bacon, sausage and mushrooms suit you? I can do you a slice of fried
bread if you like, or a fried tomato.’

           
Meg
hesitated. ‘
Er
...’

           
‘Or
kippers?’ Mrs
Gafney
added.
‘ And
I can do you a nice piece of smoked haddock if you prefer something lighter.’
The aggression from the night before was gone, and she seemed none the worse
for wear from her drinking session.

           
‘No,
eggs and bacon will be fine. No fried bread though. Just toast.’

           
Mrs
Gafney
nodded approvingly. ‘You can’t beat a good
breakfast.
Sets you up for the rest of the day.’
The
woman went back to the kitchen and moments later Meg heard fat sizzling as the
bacon hit the frying pan.

           
She’d
nearly finished eating by the time Gareth came down for breakfast. He was badly
hung over and couldn’t be sure what time he’d arrived back at the guesthouse,
though he vaguely remembered the sun coming up over the rooftops. He sat down
at Meg’s table and picked up the teapot. ‘Do you mind?’ he said.

           
‘No,
please, help yourself... though it’s probably stewed by now.’

           
‘As long as it’s wet and warm.’
He reached across to another
of the tables and picked up a cup and saucer. He poured the dark brown liquid
from the pot, added a dash of milk, sipped it gingerly and grimaced.

           
‘I
told you it would be stewed,’ Meg said. ‘About last night... I’m sorry but I behaved
like a bit of an idiot.’

           
Gareth
shook his head. ‘You were ill.’

           
‘No,’
Meg said. ‘I’m afraid that was a bit of an act. I think I was just feeling out
of my depth and a little intimidated.’

           
‘You
should have said.’

           
Mrs
Gafney
entered the dining room, saw where Gareth was
sitting and glared at Meg. ‘Your table is over here, Mr Barker,’ she said to
Gareth indicating a table set in the bay window of the room.

           
‘I
prefer to sit here,’ he said.
‘If that’s all right.’

           
The
landlady scowled at him and ran through the breakfast menu with clipped
economy. When she’d returned to the kitchen Meg said, ‘
Finlay
Crawford rang me last night.’

           
‘I
thought he might. I gave him the number. I hope you don’t mind.’

           
Meg
shook her head.
‘No, not at all.
I just thought it was
rather strange, that’s all. After all, it’s not as if he knows me. We barely
spoke at the party.’

           
‘I
think he found you very attractive. I saw the way he was looking at you when he
was playing. It was as much as he could do to keep his eyes off you.
Which is probably what put
Narina
Dressler’s
nose out of joint.
’

           
‘Who?’

           
‘Stunningly beautiful.
Short dark hair.’

           
The
woman she’d encountered on the landing.

‘I
saw her later in the evening talking to Martin. She had a face like thunder.’

           
‘So
this
Nar
… what was it?’

           
‘
Narina
Dressler
,’ Gareth said.

           
‘So
this
Narina
Dressler
is
what to
Finlay
Crawford?
His
girlfriend… his fiancée… his wife?
What?’

           
‘None of them, or so it would appear.
Martin described her
as
Finlay’s
companion, but I was talking to Clifford
later and he was saying their relationship was strictly professional… but I’m
not sure I believed him. There must be something deeper between them or she
wouldn’t have taken such exception to the interest
Finlay
was showing you.’

           
She
stood up abruptly.

           
‘Where
are you going?’

           
‘To
telephone
Finlay
Crawford and tell him I won’t be
accompanying him for coffee. There was something very unpleasant going on at
that house last night.’

           
‘What
do you mean, unpleasant?’

           
Meg
told him about her encounter with
Finlay
Crawford –
although she didn’t mention the pale girl who’d led her to the burgundy
corridor
 
–
about
Narina
Dressler
witnessing
Crawford making a pass at her, and the look the woman gave her. Finally she
told him about the incident on the veranda between Stein and
Narina
Dressler
that prompted her
to leave the party.

‘I’d
convinced myself that it was just me being naïve, you know the country bumpkin,
out of her depth in the world of the sophisticated socialites. But the more I
think about it now the more I think they were a fairly unpleasant bunch of
people. I’m sorry, Gareth, I know they’re your friends, but I don’t think I
want them to be mine.’

‘You
should have told me all this last night. I had no idea
Finlay
made a pass at you. As I said, I knew he had eyes for you, but I’d no idea it
had already gone further than that.’

‘You
would have still given him the telephone number.’

           
Gareth
avoided her eyes

           
‘Well,
you would wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t refuse the great man. Goodness knows what
damage he could do your career.’

           
Gareth
was suddenly angry. He wiped his mouth on a napkin and threw it down on the
table. ‘You really do have a lot to learn, and you’d better learn it fast if
you ever want to make a serious career out of
showbusiness
.
Listen, more can be achieved over a sociable cup of coffee than attending a
hundred auditions. When someone of the standing of
Finlay
Crawford tells you to jump, you don’t ask why, you ask how high. And yes, it
will do me no harm at all earning
Finlay’s
gratitude.
Look,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘I’ve told no one this, and I don’t want
you to breathe a word of it to anyone else, but I’ve decided that unless I get
a serious break that sends my career spiralling upwards, I’m quitting this
business at the end of the year.
Finlay
Crawford and
Clifford Stein are putting on a series of shows in the West End, and for the
first time in my life I feel that I’m in with a fair chance of landing a
reasonable part, and all because of seven little numbers. If I’d not given
Finlay
the telephone number here, do you think he would
have offered me a private audition on Sunday when we go over there?’

Meg
was equally angry. ‘So I’ve been bought and paid for. Bartered like some… some
sixpenny whore!’

The
newlyweds stood up and left the dining room, giving them both a look of
disgust.

Gareth’s
anger evaporated. Meg was absolutely right. He’d behaved abominably. He bowed
his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly.

She
sat down and took his hand. ‘So am I. Anyway, you’re probably right. I
have
got a lot to learn. I entered this profession thinking I could make a go of it
based on my talent alone. I’d heard stories, rumours, and friends warned me
what this business was like, but I really thought it would be different for
me.’

‘Are
you still going to cancel
Finlay
? I warn you now, he
won’t take it well.’

She
shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said.

‘Look,
if it makes you more comfortable I’ll come with you to meet him.’

‘A chaperone?’

‘If you like.
I
feel responsible. I got you into this.’

 
She reached across and squeezed his hand. ‘No
you didn’t. I got myself into it. If I hadn’t been so nosy and gone exploring
Stein’s house I would never have met
Finlay
Crawford,
and we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation. Thanks,’ she said. ‘I
may take you up on your offer.’

Outside
the door June
Gafney
stood wringing her hands and
listening to the conversation.
It’s happening again
, she thought, tears
again running freely down her cheeks.
It’s happening again!

By mid-morning Meg decided to accept
Finlay
Crawford’s invitation for coffee. Despite her better
judgement the man fascinated her, and it was also a huge boost to her ego that
he should be interested in her. During a break in rehearsals she found the
scrap of paper on which she’d scribbled his telephone number, went out into the
theatre’s lobby where there was a pay phone, and dialled.

           
The
telephone was answered almost at once by a woman with a slightly Germanic
accent, and Meg’s knees turned to jelly when she realised she was talking to
Narina
Dressler
.

           
‘I’m
sorry,’ the
Dressler
woman was saying, ‘but
Finlay
has been called back to London on some rather urgent
business.
 
I shall tell him of the telephone
call when he returns. Who shall I say was calling?’

           
‘It
doesn’t matter,’ Meg said and was about to hang up when the other woman said,
‘Wait! Please don’t hang up. It’s you, isn’t it?
The girl
from last night?’

           
Meg
hesitated. ‘Yes. Yes it is.’

           
‘I
think we need to meet,’
Narina
Dressler
said.

           
‘I
don’t think that’s a very good idea.’

           
‘Please.’
There was a note of desperation in her voice and Meg found her resolve
wavering.