The Boy I Love (8 page)

The days flew by as Sally gathered herself and her belongings together. Dora was fantastic and made it her mission to provide her sister with even more clothes, to create the
most comprehensive wardrobe she could find. Sally gained several more pairs of trousers, one pair of which was velvet, two jackets, three shirts and two pairs of court shoes.

‘God, I will never wear these!’ Sally shrieked as she wobbled round the shoe shop.

‘You may not, but lots of characters in your plays will, dopey,’ replied Dora. ‘Just think of all those young ladies who need rescuing in those Agatha Christie
dramas.’

‘You are so right,’ Sally said. ‘I suppose I was thinking more along the lines of Shakespeare and Chekov. But of course, we will be doing farces and thrillers, won’t
we?’ She sighed and handed the shoes to the assistant, saying, ‘Thank you, I’ll take these.’

Dora also excelled in the sewing department and she made Sally two beautiful evening dresses using patterns similar to the dresses they had seen in the vintage shop. The girls had decided to go
back to Jackie and return the dresses they had originally bought, and use the money to buy some costume jewellery. Dora had promised that she would liaise with Jackie once she was working at Crewe
and knew a bit more about the budgets and what might be required. Sally ended up with a black satin sheath dress that made her look really slim and very sexy!

‘Oh my, look at you,’ said her mother admiringly. ‘This is a new Sally I am seeing here.’

‘Oh Mum – don’t, please, it is embarrassing and not me at all.’ Sally wriggled uncomfortably and got a slap on the leg from Dora.

‘Keep still or you will get a pin in your bum. Don’t be so daft, Sally – you are an actress. This is half the fun, being able to dress up and be something you are not. So just
shut up!’

Dora had made the second dress much more demure. Like the one in Jackie’s shop, it was a 1950s-style, with a full skirt and petticoats in a gorgeous peacock blue.

‘Dora, you are amazing! Thank you so much. I could never have done this by myself.’ Sally beamed at her sister.

‘Well, I am pleased you appreciate me. In return, you must make sure the wardrobe department see what I can do, so they realize they can’t possibly manage without me. Now give me one
of those pairs of shoes we bought because I am going to dye them to match this dress.’

Sally sat down one evening with her father and they went through her finances. Her salary was modest, but there’d be enough to live on. There was only one more favour to be asked. A
TV!

‘Well now, young lady, this is a bit of a luxury, but your mother has persuaded me that you might need the company at first, and it is cheaper than going to the pub every night. So I have
invested in a new portable TV for your room.’ Douglas lifted a huge box up from behind his desk.

‘Oh Dad, you are generous – thank you so much. I promise it will all be worth it in the end. I will make it up to you and Mother, just wait and see.’ Sally hugged her father
and went in search of Patricia.

‘Thank you, Mum,’ she said, throwing her arms around her mother’s waist.

‘Whatever for?’ Then light dawned. ‘Ah, the TV, I am guessing. Well, it is important you keep up with what is on telly, isn’t it?’ Patricia said gaily.

‘Quite right, Mum, you are a wise old bird and no mistake.’

‘Less of the old, thank you,’ scolded Patricia. ‘Now let’s go and find you a suitcase and start putting things in piles. You know how much I like a nice neat pile.’
They both laughed and went in search of bags.

Despite her days being full-on, Sally did manage to arrange a photo-shoot with Mack. She went to his studio and they spent a couple of hours taking different shots in different locations. Mack
was easygoing and made her feel very comfortable.

‘I usually hate having my photo taken,’ she ventured as she sat on a chair in the middle of several unfinished sculptures in Mack’s studio. Everything was white, even the
floors, but whatever Mack had done with the lighting had suffused the whole room in a soft haze. It was very restful, and when Sally saw the Polaroids he had taken as tests, she was pleasantly
surprised by how pretty she looked.

‘Lighting is the most important factor in photography, I think,’ Mack was saying as he snapped away. ‘And not just in photography. It obviously makes a huge difference when I
am painting or sculpting. I love being in this space and it changes all the time depending on the seasons.’ He grinned. ‘I get completely carried away in here some days, and Muriel has
to come and remind me that there is a world out there.’

‘I envy you your solitude,’ said Sally. ‘It must be wonderful to practise your art without having to rely on other people. As an actor, I need an audience for a reaction.
Spouting Shakespeare in my lonely attic is not going to get me a job. I have to be out there in front of people.’

‘Yes, I suppose you are right,’ replied Mack. ‘I have never thought about it from that perspective, although ultimately I am also reliant on someone commissioning and the
public buying my work.’

‘Yes, but you can create it first without a reaction from anyone. Acting requires a response – especially comedy. As an actor I also need someone objective watching over me. It is
all about the director at the end of the day, especially in TV and films. Although at the theatre, the actor is the master onstage. He can rehearse for weeks and the director can give notes all day
long – but once that curtain goes up, it is his domain. For those two hours he is in control. What a great feeling that is!’

Sally had risen to her feet with excitement, then realized she had ruined the pose. ‘Oh, I am so sorry, but surely you have enough photos by now, Mack? Please let’s go and have a
drink.’

‘OK, you are right. Come on, let’s go and have a slap-up dinner. The paper is paying.’

Mack took her to a French bistro near the river. It was very exclusive and Sally guessed that it was also very expensive.

‘I told you the local rag is paying for this,’ said Mack when Sally raised an eyebrow at the prices. ‘You are worth it, Miss Thomas, a potential star in the making!’

They both laughed then got down to the serious business of eating and drinking. It was a lovely evening. Mack was so easy to talk to, and funny as well. With the rosy glow of a bottle of
Beaujolais inside her, Sally was brave enough to suggest that he might like to come and visit her in Crewe.

‘You could bring Muriel and Dave and make a weekend of it. See me perform even!’ She giggled, thinking to herself, I can’t believe I am doing this.

‘I would love that,’ replied Mack. ‘Would it matter if I came on my own?’ He was looking at her very intensely now and Sally began to feel a little warm.

‘Not at all,’ she said shyly.

Mack got the bill and they left, finding each other’s hands as they walked home. It felt so good and so right to be there with Mack. Sally was in a state of shock. What was this all about?
They stopped at the bottom of the street near her house and Mack kissed her deeply, drawing her into him. He then stepped back and held her face in his hands.

‘I am going to miss you, Sally Thomas. I want to come and see you very soon, if that is OK with you?’

‘Yes, please,’ whispered Sally and kissed him again. She had never felt so alive. She wanted to make love to Mack so badly, but this was just not the right time. She was leaving in a
couple of days and he would think badly of her, surely?’

‘Mack, I want to say . . .’ she began, but he put a finger to her lips.

‘You don’t have to say anything, Sally. I understand this is not the right time for you to start a love affair with me or anybody. But believe me, I would love to see you again and I
don’t want to lose this moment however fragile it may be. Let us just try to meet as soon as we can, and see what develops. You are a very special lady, Sally Thomas. I need you but your
public needs you more.’

‘Oh thank you, Mack!’ Sally hugged him hard. ‘I can’t wait to show you my new life when you come up.’

Mack leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on her cheek, then turned and walked away. As Sally watched him go he turned round briefly, with a wave, and was gone.

Sally began to feel tears welling up and chided herself yet again on being foolish. She was doing what she had always wanted to do. She must not get sidelined.

‘Get a grip, girl!’ she told herself. ‘This is what you want and you are going to make the most of it.’

By Saturday night Sally was ready to go. She had decided to catch an early train on Sunday morning even though her parents had offered to drive her. It seemed important that
she made the break this end and showed some spirit.

Now as the train shuddered to a halt and a whistle pierced her dreams, Sally awoke with a start and realized she had arrived at Platform One, Crewe station. Giving a little yawn, she stood up
and began to collect her bags. Excitement surged through her.

Let the adventure begin!

‘Good morning, everyone, and welcome to my wonderful world of theatre!’ Giles Longfellow’s voice reverberated around the theatre and bounced off the
chandelier to land smack bang in the centre of the stage. Sally was reminded of her first visit to Crewe and her gaze immediately flew to the Royal Box. Sure enough, she could see the shadowy
figure of their employer hovering behind a gilded pillar. He appeared like a conjuror at the finale of his act and looked down upon the assembled cast.

‘Forgive my theatricality, folks, but I love this theatre, and I am determined that this season will be the best ever. I have gathered a great cast and some wonderful entertainment for the
next nine months, and together we will ensure that live theatre lives on in the provinces despite the government’s best efforts to curb our budget. Heather, please hand out the schedule of
works while I come down and join you.’ He disappeared through the curtain at the back of the box, and the company turned expectantly to Heather, the stage manager.

Sally had met her at nine o’clock that morning as she arrived at the stage door.

‘Hi. I am Sally Thomas – ASM, small parts and understudy,’ she had announced rather nervously. ‘I am not quite sure what to do first, or who to ask for . . .’

Heather had slapped her on the back and steered her towards the stage, saying, ‘Oh, well done for getting here early. That bodes well for the first day. I am Heather Rollings, and I am the
stage manager here. It’s my third year so I pretty much know how it all works. Come and have a cup of tea in the office and I will fill you in.’

Sally followed her down to the basement and along a narrow corridor lined with huge heating pipes. There was a door at the end and Heather ushered her into a musty room with a light bulb
swinging from the ceiling and a desk with a lamp and piles of paperwork on it. A broken armchair stood in the corner next to a side table, on which was a kettle and some cracked mugs, and
containers of tea and coffee. There was a half-full bottle of milk that Heather quickly emptied into a tiny basin in the corner. She left the bottle on the floor by a bin as she produced a fresh
one from her rucksack.

‘We waste so much milk here, but without a fridge what can I do? Tea or coffee?’ she asked, filling the kettle.

‘Oh, tea please,’ said Sally, looking round.

‘Not exactly the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, is it?’ remarked Heather. ‘To be honest I am hardly ever in here, as I’m too busy running round like a blue-arsed fly. Have you
done any stage management at all?’ She posed the question as if she already knew the answer.

‘Well, I did a bit at drama school, but this is my first professional job actually and—’

‘Oh crap, I thought so.’ Heather cut her off. ‘Sorry, Sally, but Giles does this to me every year. Hires would-be actresses to do stage management. You are not in the least bit
interested in lighting or props, you just want to perform!’ She threw a tea bag into a mug and banged it down in front of Sally. ‘It drives me mad. There is another girl in the cast
down as ASM as well – Sarah something. I just hope she is the genuine article.’

‘I am so s-sorry,’ stammered Sally. ‘I really am. But please don’t think I am not going to pull my weight. I fully expect to do my share, and I am eager to learn,
honestly.’

Heather sat down at her desk and studied her for a few minutes. Sally waited for her assessment.

‘Fair enough,’ came the sighed response. ‘At least you tipped up on time today. Let’s see how we get on. Now today can go as smooth as treacle, or turn into bedlam. First
thing you need to know, my girl, is all about the pecking order. But first, I’ll do the tea.’ She got up and poured boiling water into the mugs.