Love or Duty (11 page)

She sighed. She’d have to go home at once. She told Polly she’d be on the next train and put the phone down. Then she went to find Phil to tell him what had happened.

He wasn’t pleased but he agreed to let her go. ‘What shall I tell Sarah?’ he asked. ‘She’ll wonder why you aren’t at the party.’

‘Just say I don’t feel well and I’ve gone back to our digs. I’ll leave her a note there and try to get back tomorrow.’

Andrew Tate was exhausted. He’d been on duty for eighteen hours and was longing for his bed in his comfortable lodgings. As he left the hospital he picked up a copy of the
Evening Standard
, hailed a taxi and settled back to read his paper. The name leapt out at him from the headline:
SARAH CHARLTON TO STAR ON BROADWAY
.

So little Sarah was now a big star, he thought, smiling as he read the whole article. Of course he had heard about her success in
Little Women
and had been meaning to go and see the show but he just hadn’t found the time. Now it was the final performance before they all shipped out on the
Queen Mary
and he’d missed it. He glanced at his watch. The paper said tickets were all sold out but if he went straight to the theatre he might be lucky and find that someone had cancelled at the last minute. He leaned forward and gave the taxi driver his change of destination.

As they drew up outside the theatre he hesitated. What was he thinking of? Musical shows weren’t really his sort of thing. He grinned wryly, acknowledging that he wanted to see Sarah – but not for her performance. He was hoping he’d have the chance to speak to her and get news of her sister.

In spite of his best efforts he hadn’t been able to get Louise out of his mind, despite trying to lose himself in his work among the East End’s poor. He hadn’t been down to Holton Regis for months and there had been no mention of the Charltons in Uncle George’s infrequent letters.

He paid the taxi driver and crossed the road to the theatre, pleased to find that there was a ticket available. Despite it not being his usual sort of fare, he enjoyed the show and Sarah’s performance was outstanding. He could understand why she’d had such good reviews. And now she was off to America to enslave new audiences over there.

When the last bow had been taken and the final curtain fell, Andrew got up and made his way to the foyer. He was determined to see Sarah and seek news of her sister, to reassure himself that she was well and happy. But he had reckoned without Sarah’s popularity and the hordes of autograph hunters and fans swarming around the stage door, not to mention the burly doorman who refused admittance to anyone not known to him.

Andrew tore a page out of his diary and scribbled a note, pressing some coins into the man’s hand. ‘Please make sure Miss Charlton gets this. It’s very important,’ he said. ‘I’m a friend of the family.’

The man looked sceptical. ‘You and everyone else,’ he said.

Andrew turned away, disappointed. At the theatre entrance he looked for a taxi but, finding none, he started to walk. Perhaps it was just as well, he thought. The Charlton sisters were not part of his life now, if they ever had been. He might hear news of them through his uncle from time to time but it was best to try and forget them, especially Louise with her dimpled smile and sparkling eyes.

W
hen Louise got off the train, she was still simmering with fury. How could Sarah behave like this? She might have known her lie would be discovered and that her mother would collapse in hysterics. And, as usual, it would be left to Louise to smooth things over and make everything all right again.

It had happened so often in the past. Try as she might to convince herself that Sarah was not the self-centred person she appeared to be, that it wasn’t her fault she’d always been allowed her own way, Louise couldn’t stop the resentment rising to the surface.

Just as she reached Steyne House the door was thrown open and Polly, her face stained with tears, greeted her. ‘Oh, Miss, I’m so glad you’re here. I hope it was all right to phone but I couldn’t think what else to do.’

‘You did the right thing, Polly,’ Louise assured her. ‘How is Mother now? And is my father home yet?’

‘The mistress is in bed. I managed to calm her down with some camomile tea. The master’s not back from his meeting yet.’

Louise glanced at her watch. ‘He shouldn’t be long. Perhaps you’d make some tea and sandwiches for both of us.’ She hung her coat up and put down her overnight bag. ‘I’ll go up and see Mother.’

She opened the bedroom door quietly, hoping that Dora was asleep. But as she was about to withdraw, her stepmother sat up in bed.

‘Oh, it’s you. I suppose you’ve come to make excuses for that little minx.’ Dora covered her face with her hands and began to wail. ‘How could she do this to me? And why didn’t you stop her?’

As usual, Dora was thrusting the blame on to her.

‘I did try,’ Louise said. ‘But she said you’d given permission for her to go.’

‘She’s too young to go all that way. Anything could happen to her.’ Dora wiped her eyes on a scrap of lace handkerchief, her tears replaced by a grim smile. ‘Well, she can’t go. Stanley will refuse to sign. I’ll make sure of that.’

It hadn’t occurred to Louise that Sarah didn’t have her own passport and that, as she was under twenty-one, her parents’ signature would be
necessary
. She’d managed to convince Steve and Maurice, her agent, that all was in order. How had she hoped to get over that hurdle? Louise wondered. Charm and a sweet smile wouldn’t convince the hardened officials of the Customs Department.

Although she was still angry at Sarah’s deception, Dora’s words made Louise want to defend her sister. She knew how much the chance of
starring
on Broadway meant to her and she had thought Dora would be pleased too – another opportunity to boast to her friends about her talented daughter. But of course, Louise realized, with Sarah so far away, her mother would lose the last remnants of control over her.

Dora continued to try and blame Louise for ‘encouraging the little minx’ and Louise tried to change the subject by asking about her father.

‘He’s perfectly all right. I don’t know why you worry about him. He’s well enough to go off to these everlasting meetings of his every night.’

‘Is it council business?’

Dora flapped a hand. ‘I don’t know – it’s all war, war, war. They’re getting all steamed up about nothing. Besides, what good are all these preparations? If it does come to anything it will all happen over there, just like last time.’

Louise didn’t agree but she knew it was no use arguing. Dora had a knack for ignoring anything unpleasant. But she had to try. ‘Mother, surely you’ve read the newspapers. And Father wouldn’t be getting involved if he didn’t think it was going to happen.’

‘Well, I must admit he does seem worried about it.’ Dora’s eyes welled with tears once more. ‘That’s another reason I don’t want Sarah to go. I need her here with me.’

‘Mother, don’t get upset again. Sarah will be all right. Besides, if there is a war, she’ll be safer in a far away country.’ She adjusted Dora’s pillows and smoothed the eiderdown. ‘I’ll get you some more camomile tea. Try to rest.’

Downstairs, Polly had prepared a tray of tea and sandwiches. ‘Shall I take it into the dining room, Miss?’ she asked.

‘No, I’ll have it here. Can you take some more tea up to Mother? She might be sleeping by now so don’t disturb her. Just leave it by the bed.’

Louise sat at the kitchen table and rested her forehead on her hand. Dealing with Dora always gave her a headache. She was starting to doze when her father came in and startled her. She leapt up and embraced him. ‘I’m so glad you’re home.’

‘What are you doing here? Is anything wrong? Sarah…?’ He gently disengaged himself. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing really. Sarah’s fine. Singing her heart out at this very moment I expect.’

‘So why are you here? I thought you were going to stay for her last performance and then come home with her tomorrow.’

‘You haven’t heard then?’

Stanley shook his head. ‘What’s all the mystery?’

‘It’s Sarah – she won’t be coming home just yet.’

‘Have they decided to extend the run then?’

‘Not exactly.’ Louise made her father sit down and poured him some tea. Then she told him of Sarah’s big chance, her determination to go to America and Dora’s equal determination that she would not.

Stanley shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. Dora is so proud of Sarah. Why would she want to stop her going?’

‘She’s too young – so Mother says.’

‘But it’s a wonderful opportunity for her. And of course, you’ll be there to look after her.’

‘No, Father. I don’t want to go.’ She laid a hand on his arm, noting his pallor, the shadows under his eyes. However much he denied it, she could see he was far from well. She decided to try and see Dr Tate on her way to the station the following day. If he reassured her that Stanley’s health wasn’t in danger she might reconsider. But she wasn’t hopeful.

During the train journey to London Louise couldn’t stop worrying about her father. She hadn’t been reassured by his attempts to laugh off his
shortness
of breath. He’d just laughed and said, ‘Getting old, my dear.’

When she asked if he had to work such long hours he explained that the business was only now beginning to recover from the disastrous fire and his partner’s untimely death. ‘Things are looking up, though. And I’ve started to hand over more of the day to day running to young James,’ he said.

From what she’d seen of his late partner’s son, she wasn’t so sure. ‘Didn’t you say he wasn’t ready for too much responsibility?’ she asked.

Stanley reassured her. ‘He’s spending more time in the office now. You worry too much, my dear. I’m fine,’ he said.

She wanted to take him at his word but she’d still visited the doctor’s surgery, without letting her parents know. He had declined to be specific, telling her she should discuss things with her father, but when he realized how anxious she was, he relented.

‘I warned him not to work so hard after that first attack,’ he said.

‘What do you mean? What attack? He said he’d had a summer cold. My stepmother said nothing to me either.’

‘Stanley was trying to shield her – and you – from the truth. You know how easily upset she is. But it was a very mild heart attack. He has his pills now and, with rest, he should go on for many years yet.’

Louise choked back a sob. ‘Are you sure it’s nothing more serious? Why didn’t he tell me? I would have come home to look after him.’

Dr Tate smiled. ‘I suspect that is precisely why he didn’t tell you. You and your sister have been enjoying your time in London, haven’t you? He didn’t want to spoil that, especially as he knew you’d soon be returning to Holton.’

She hadn’t told him about the show’s transfer to New York and her own offer of a job at the London theatre. But the conversation had made her decision easier.

Earlier, her father had managed to calm Dora’s hysterics by saying that, as he was certain the country would soon be at war, he’d feel happier if the girls were far away when the inevitable happened. Eventually, Dora had accepted that she couldn’t stand in the way of her daughter’s success. They both seemed to think that if Sarah went, Louise would too.

But, as the train drew into Victoria Station, her mind was made up. She would not be going with Sarah, nor would she be taking the theatre job. She was sure now that her place was back in Holton Regis. Her brief flight to freedom was over.

Sarah woke with a blinding headache. The party the night before had been fun but she’d drunk far too much champagne. She turned away from the bar of sunlight which pierced a gap in the curtains and burrowed under the sheets, hoping to doze off again. Then she remembered arriving home and finding Louise’s note and she sat up, groaning, wondering how she was going to face her sister.

She knew she shouldn’t have lied, but she’d said the first thing that came into her head. She had honestly meant to confess, but as time passed it became harder to speak up. It had simply not occurred to her that her mother would find out before she or Louise had a chance to soften the blow.

Last night, when Phil told her Louise had gone home with a bad headache she’d been furious, once more accusing her of jealousy, although deep down, she knew she was being unjust. But she’d been upset that Louise had left the theatre before the show even began. Hadn’t she promised she would be there for her final triumph, the photographs, the bouquets, the applause and the party afterwards?

Back at their digs, when she found the note saying why Louise had returned to Holton she’d immediately felt ashamed. Once more, her sister was bailing her out of trouble, facing up to an angry Dora and smoothing things over as usual.

She threw herself back on the pillows, wondering why her life had to be so complicated. But then her natural optimism reasserted itself and she sat up and swung her legs out of bed. She was going to star on Broadway and nothing was going to stop her.

Humming a tune from the show, she pirouetted over to the window. As she drew back the curtains, she saw Louise striding up the road. Her sister did not look happy. Did that mean she hadn’t been successful in talking Mother round? ‘I don’t care. I
am
going, even if I have to stow away,’ she muttered, turning away from the window.

She threw on some clothes and was waiting anxiously by the time Louise came upstairs. Before her sister could speak she said, ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me I must go home and be a dutiful daughter.’ She stamped her foot and without waiting for a reply, spoke again. ‘Well, I won’t.’

Louise shrugged off her jacket and sat down. ‘Aren’t you even going to ask how your mother is? She was dreadfully upset you know, in a terrible state. And you know Father’s not well either.’

Sarah tossed her hair back. ‘Oh, you know Mother. She gets in a state over the slightest little thing.’ She sat down opposite her sister. ‘You said she’d found out about America – how?’

‘She read it in the paper. You shouldn’t have lied to me, Sarah.’

Sarah hung her head. ‘I know – I’m sorry. I do feel bad about it.’ She straightened up. ‘Anyway she knows now – the point is, what’s she going to do about it?’

‘Father and I talked her round. She’s not happy, mind. And she’d feel better if I agreed to go with you.’

‘So will you?’

Louise shook her head. ‘No, Sarah. I really don’t want to go so far away, especially now they say there’s definitely going to be a war.’

‘Oh, war. That’s all anyone talks about these days. Besides, if it does happen, surely we’d be better off out of it.’

‘Maybe – that’s what convinced Mother. Father said at least you’d be out of danger. That’s why she agreed you could go. But it’s not just that, Sarah. I’m really worried about him – he tries to shrug it off but I’m sure he’s ill. I just feel I should be at home now.’

Sarah felt a brief flash of guilt but she brushed it aside. Louise was such a worrier. She leaned over and took her sister’s hand. ‘I truly am sorry for lying to you and leaving you to pick up the pieces. Thank you. What will I do without you to watch out for me when I get over there?’

‘I’m sure you’ll be all right. Now, tell me about the party last night.’

Sarah needed no encouragement and launched into a lively description of the people who’d been there and the fun she’d had. ‘And just look at all the bouquets,’ she said, waving her hand round the room.

Louise had scarcely noticed the masses of flowers which covered every surface of their small sitting room. Now, she looked round and it began to sink in how popular her sister was – a real star. Who knew where she’d end up – Hollywood perhaps, starring in films with the likes of Clark Gable and Errol Flynn? The thought frightened her a little. What effect would it have on her flighty, carefree sister? Should she change her mind and agree to be her chaperon?

No, she thought, as Sarah chattered on, her eyes alight with excitement. Her sister was grown up now. She’d have to take care of herself.

Lost in thought, she hardly registered the name until Sarah shook her arm. ‘Andrew Tate – old Dr Tate’s nephew. He came to the theatre last night.’

Louise’s eyes widened. ‘He did? What did he say?’

‘Oh, I didn’t see him, but he left a note.’ Sarah began to scrabble in her bag. ‘I’ve got it here somewhere. I wonder why he sent it to me and not you?’ She looked up, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. ‘I mean, it’s obvious it’s you he fancies.’

Louise felt herself beginning to blush. She wanted to believe it but what man could possibly prefer her to her beautiful, lively sister? Sarah handed her the screwed up piece of paper and she smoothed it out. The hastily scrawled note congratulated Sarah on her performance and wished her success in New York. But it was the final sentence which set Louise’s heart thumping. ‘I do hope you will convey my best wishes to your sister when you next write.’

Sarah laughed and nudged Louise. ‘You’re blushing. I believe you still carry a torch for him.’ She took the paper back. ‘I wonder why he thinks I’ll be writing to you?’

‘Obviously he doesn’t know I’ve been in London too.’ And why should he? Louise thought. It was more than a year since that brief encounter on the seafront at Holton. But, she had to admit, he’d seldom been out of her thoughts, try as she would to convince herself that he meant nothing to her.