Starlight (17 page)

‘And what would have happened if they'd both been a bit nearer the bombs!' Addie cried, clutching Jess's hand. ‘When Jess rang me at work and told me she'd been in Leith, I couldn't take it in. I couldn't believe she was safe. I kept asking her over and over again if she was all right, and the money for the phone kept running out and she'd to keep putting coppers in. Oh, it was a nightmare, so it was – a nightmare!'

‘It was,' Jess said tiredly. ‘That's all it was. A nightmare.'

‘Seven people, they say, killed in the tenement,' Edie wailed. ‘Would you credit it? Out of the blue! No siren, no warning, just in their homes, and then gone. And poor Mr Hawthorne nearly gone, too. Oh, when you said he was here in the Royal, Jess, I was in such a state! I thought all I should do was get here, to be with Daisy, and I just told Fred and Flo to look after things and up I came.'

‘Well, I'm sure my sister was very grateful,' Alison said graciously. ‘But of course I came with her myself. She's very highly strung, is Daisy. I knew she'd never manage alone.'

‘It's good she's got you,' Addie told her, rising and taking Jess's arm. ‘But if you don't mind, I must get my girl home now. She's still suffering from shock, she needs complete rest.'

‘I'm all right, Ma,' Jess said at once. ‘I want to wait for Daisy. See how George is.'

‘Here she is,' Alison cried. ‘Oh dear, looks like she's crying. How is he, pet, quick, how is he?'

‘He's all right,' Daisy answered in strangled tones, as she pressed a hankie to her eyes. ‘They keep saying he's going to be all right.' She began to sob in earnest. ‘But he doesn't look all right. So pale and so still, just lying there, not talking. Not saying a word!'

‘Of course he'll not look all right yet,' her sister said soothingly, putting her arm around her. ‘But you have to go by what the doctors say, you know. If they say he's all right, well, that'll be true, won't it? Now, why don't we try to find a taxi – you can sometimes catch one outside the hospital – and come back tomorrow? Did they say you could see him tomorrow?'

Still sobbing, Daisy nodded, and after a quick glance at the watching faces, Alison led her away.

‘I'd better go, too,' Edie murmured. ‘If I run, I can get the last tram home. Jess, shall I see you tomorrow?'

‘No, no,' Addie said firmly. ‘After what she's been through, she's going to need some time off.'

But Jess shook her head. ‘No time off, Ma. I have to look after things, for George's sake. Edie, I'll see you as usual.'

‘Oh, Jess,' Addie sighed, as Edie hurried away. ‘At least you'll come back home with me, eh? No' go to your empty flat?'

‘I've got a better idea, Ma. My place is nearer. Why don't you come home with me instead? We needn't go back to Leith tonight.'

Addie's weary face brightened. ‘Are you sure, pet? Oh, I think I'd like that. Let's go then.'

‘And if there are any taxis outside the hospital, should we take one? Just for once?'

‘Just for once,' Addie agreed.

It was only when she was in the taxi, on her way home, that Jess remembered she hadn't rung the owners to tell them of George's illness. Tomorrow, she would have to ring Mr Syme in Glasgow, and see what he wanted to do.

Thirty-One

Next day, at the Princes, the atmosphere was subdued, as after a death. And, of course, even if Mr Hawthorne had actually survived, there were deaths to mourn. Seven in the tenement. And maybe more to come. No one felt safe. How could they, if a lone raider was able to appear in the sky without warning and rain down bombs on civilian targets? They'd been expecting air raids when the phoney war finally ended, but somehow had always thought they'd focus on the things the Germans feared, not poor folk in tenements. But that was war for you, and now they knew just what they were facing.

Jess, feeling as vulnerable as everyone else, knew that others at the Princes were looking to her to hold the place together. In fact, there was no one else. She was not only assistant manager, she was the only one with an overall view of everyone's work; the only one, apart from Edie and Fred, to have worked at the cinema before the experienced people were taken away by the war. And, while Fred could manage the jobs he knew and Edie could type the letters and do her filing, for anything more, it was no good asking.

One problem was that everyone was so obviously on edge. Even when Jess was able to call them all together and tell them that Mr Hawthorne was improving, there were still tears flowing and nerves showing; so much so, she began to wonder in the end if things would ever return to normal.

Routine was a wonderful support, though, and gradually, as the shock of what had happened began to wear off, everyone slipped back into doing what they always did with their usual efficiency, and Jess could heave a sigh of relief. And to thank heaven she'd booked
Spring Parade
, starring the young singer Deanna Durbin, for this particular week. Just the thing for escaping the world and settling everyone's nerves.

Even mine, Jess had thought, until, crossing the foyer some hours later, she saw John Syme coming through the doors towards her, when she began to tremble. Inside, anyway. Outwardly, she appeared quite composed as she went forward to shake his hand.

‘Mr Syme – I'm very glad to see you.'

‘Terrible news about George, Mrs MacVail, not to mention what happened in Leith. Hard on you, too, as you were there.'

‘I'm all right, thanks. Everyone's pretty upset here, but the news is good. I rang the hospital about Mr Hawthorne this morning.'

‘So did I. Soon as I get the OK, I'll go to see him.'

‘Mrs Hawthorne's going to let me know when visiting's allowed. Would you like to come to my office, Mr Syme?'

‘Better make it George's. As you share with Miss Harrison, I believe, and we have things to discuss.'

John Syme was in his late forties, a distinguished looking businessman, with dark hair just beginning to show grey at the temples, and a nose that was on the sharp side. Jess had met him two or three times, the last being when he'd interviewed her after George had selected her as his assistant manager. He'd made no objection to her appointment, though she knew he'd wondered about her credentials, and she'd considered herself lucky over that. How lucky was she going to be when he brought in some outsider to tell her what to do in George's absence, though?

As she showed him into George's office, her thoughts were not on her own position, however, for her gaze had gone straight to George's desk with all his things just as he'd left them, and she couldn't help her eyes filling up with tears.

‘It's all right, Jess,' Mr Syme said kindly, setting down his briefcase. ‘Mind if I call you Jess? He's going to be back, you know. No question.'

‘I know. I'm sorry. It just hit me for a moment.'

‘Of course. It would. Now, shall we sit down?'

‘Would you like to take the desk, then?'

‘If you prefer.'

When he had taken George's chair behind the desk, Jess seated herself in what she always thought of as the interview chair; it was where she'd been placed by Sally on the day she'd been appointed to the box office job so long ago. Perhaps it wasn't so long ago, only seemed so. And now she was waiting, as assistant manager, to hear Mr Syme's ideas on finding a new and temporary manager to be her boss in the absence of George. Who would it be? Where would such a person be found? Don't worry, she told herself, someone would be found, all right. Someone would want to work here, just as she did.

Looking up, she found Mr Syme's narrow grey eyes fixed on her face.

‘Difficult for you, all of this,' he observed. ‘I know you've always got on well with George.'

‘Yes. He's always been very helpful to me.'

‘Thinks very highly of you, too.'

To that, she made no reply, and after a moment, Mr Syme took out his cigarette case, studied its contents, and closed it.

‘Trying to give them up,' he said with a brief smile. ‘Especially since the only ones I can buy are those I don't like. You don't smoke, Jess?'

‘No, I've never started.'

‘Sensible girl. But then you are – very sensible.' He leaned forward a little. ‘Would it surprise you to know that I've already thought of you as a replacement for George? Temporary, of course?'

At first she was speechless, staring at him with wide, gold-flecked eyes.

‘Me?' she said at last. ‘To replace George?'

‘My suggestion. Unfortunately, one of my company, when I telephoned him this morning after you'd told me about George, was of the opinion that you were too young.'

The sound of her spirits plummeting must surely have echoed round the room, she thought wildly, and almost felt like smiling at the idea she could ever have been considered to run the Princes Street Picture House. But that was wrong. She didn't feel like smiling.

‘I see,' she murmured. ‘Well, I suppose I am. Young.'

‘But not too young. Others on the board agreed with me. In fact, we think you'd do a good job. Temporarily, of course.'

‘But one man didn't agree.'

Mr Syme sat back. ‘I've persuaded him.'

‘Persuaded?'

‘I explained that of all the people we might find, you're the only one who really knows the Princes, and that you've been working lately as assistant manager with George himself, so you'd be au fait with all that he has to do. I also explained that George has always thought you very competent, with good ideas of your own, and – this is pretty important – that you'd be the one he'd like to look after things while he's away.'

Shrugging a little, Mr Syme gave another of his brief smiles. ‘That's what I call persuasion, Jess.'

‘And he accepted me?' she asked huskily. ‘Without an interview?'

‘These are difficult times. We need somebody to take charge immediately to run things as smoothly as possible for the time while George is away. We've decided you're that person. Are you interested?'

Interested? Again, she could have smiled.

‘Mr Syme, I don't think interested is the right word.'

‘You mean, you'll take the post?'

‘I'll take the post. If you're sure you want me.'

‘It's been decided. As a temporary measure only, but of course, you understand that. Now, there'll be formalities to see to, salary to discuss, a contract to be drawn up, and so on – I'd like you to come through to Glasgow one day next week, so that we can finalize matters.' He took a diary from his briefcase. ‘Would Wednesday suit?'

When he took his leave at the cinema doors, he shook her hand and wished her all the best in her new post.

‘One thing you won't have to worry about – after what's happened, we're not pressing ahead with any idea of renovating the old Clarion. I expect you'll be glad about that.'

She was. Didn't even like to think of the ill-fated expedition to Leith to look at it. Would never again want to hear even its name.

‘But George will be pleased, you know, that you're holding the fort for him.' John Syme was continuing. ‘Let's hope we can visit him soon.'

‘Oh, yes, Mr Syme! And that he won't be away too long.'

He gave her a long considering look. ‘Whatever happens, this will be good experience for you. Remember that, Jess.'

‘I will, Mr Syme.'

‘Call me John,' he said pleasantly, and left her.

Stunned, was how she felt. Stunned at her new position which she could never have imagined could be hers so soon. Yet not elated. Stunned, apprehensive, perhaps, but not elated, not happy. Because the post had only come to her because of what had happened to George. How could she be happy about it?

As she returned to George's office, though, she did begin to feel a little better about stepping into his shoes. It wasn't as if he were not coming back. She could take the view that she was going to do her best to keep the cinema going for him, and take pleasure in that. It would be what he would want, and it was after all pretty nice to know that the owners – except for one – had confidence in her.

By the time she'd thought all these things, she knew she was ready to sit at George's desk and tackle the paperwork already there, though taking his chair still gave her a strange feeling. Everything looked . . . sort of different, didn't it? To be in charge. Heavens, that was different, too.

Whatever would the staff say? And her mother? And Rusty? She smiled a little. And Ben? He was the one who'd told her she was going places, climbing ladders. And here she was, in a new place, all right: George Hawthorne's.

After a few moments, she rose and returned to her old office, where Edie was tidying up for the end of the day.

‘Edie,' she said, ‘Can I interrupt you for a moment? I've something to tell you.'

Thirty-Two

Of course, as soon as he heard what had happened in Leith, Rusty managed to get himself a weekend pass to come back to Jess.

‘I never thought you'd do it,' she gasped, when they'd released themselves from the first long embrace in George's office that she'd finally come to think of as hers. ‘I mean, you've so much on – your course and the tests coming up and everything – I didn't even dare to hope you might come.'

‘After what you've been through?' Rusty shuddered. ‘I asked for compassionate leave and the CO agreed without a word – and why not? I mean, when I think of you in Leith and how close you were to those bombs, I'm not joking about needing compassionate leave. And then there's poor old George to think about, as well. How is he, by the way?'

‘Recovering, but slowly. He's allowed visitors now, so shall we go to the Royal together?'

‘Sure. I'd like to. First, though, we're going home, aren't we?'