Pushing the door open with her foot, Rosie stood there, arms folded, unyielding. ‘It’s not Mum, and no I won’t make you a cup of tea. I never woke you up. Look at yer! Reading a bloody book and wide awake. If the truth be known, you disturbed me.’

  ‘And a chocolate Bourbon,’ muttered Harriet, going back to her book. ‘You’re gonna need all the cash you can get your ’ands on. If I don’t get a bit more service around ’ere, I’ll spend me money on a world cruise, where I know I’ll be abided by. Talks volumes, does money.’

  ‘Yeah? Well ask it where it came from in the first place. Tommy? Put aside for my wedding day? He told me about it, Gran. I won’t be ’aving one, so you’re obliged to give it to me for my show.’

  ‘Gonna die an old maid, are yer?’

  ‘No. I’m gonna live in sin.’

  ‘That’s all right then. I’ll let you ’ave the rest… when I think fit. Too much too soon and you’ll think you’re ’ome and dry. There’ll be costs along the way you ’adn’t even thought about. Get what you can out of the boys for now.’

  With an eyebrow raised, Rosie sat on the edge of her gran’s bed. ‘No flies on you, are there? And thanks for telling Richard about my being his cousin. He took it really well. You worked wonders there. He’s in love with someone else now, can you believe?’

  Looking over the top of her glasses, Harriet smiled and winked. ‘I’ve been on the merry-go-round for a long time. Seen it all.’ She placed her book on the bed and sighed. ‘S’pose I’ve gotta make me own tea, then?’

  ‘Listen, I want your honest opinion… about what I’m doing.’

  ‘Getting cold feet already? I might ’ave known. Go on then… ask away.’

  ‘You know what I’m gonna say, stop tormenting.’ Harriet sank back into her pillow and peered thoughtfully at her granddaughter. ‘You’ll still be ’ere next year, right. Well… you can either be ’ere, without ’aving put on a show, or ’aving put on one. Whatever you do, you’ll still be trotting off to the brewery. Now then… will yer be pleased with yerself ’cos you did what you wanted and you did your best, even if it bombs? Or will you be annoyed with yourself for giving up and never knowing what might have been?’

  Rosie gazed back at her, deadpan. ‘We ain’t got no Bourbons. I ’ad the last one.’

  ‘Well fetch me a couple of tea fingers then.’ She picked up her book and pretended to read. ‘And you’d best not come ’ome from work without a packet of chocolate biscuits.’

  ‘So you think I’m doing the right thing then?’

  ‘Right thing? Ha! That’ll be the day. I’ll tell you what, though; if you don’t tread carefully and slow down a bit, you might find Tommy’s bedroom filled with an old man’s things. If the authorities find out that Larry’s living in that dump, hell be ousted, no mistake. Put in an old people’s ’ome or… in our spare room.’

  ‘He don’t live in the Star, you silly cow. Spends a lot of time there, that’s all.’

  ‘He lives there. He wouldn’t want us or anyone else to know. So keep your gob shut and don’t treat ’im any different now that you do know. He’s as sharp as a razor and too bloody proud for ’is own good. And before you ask, he’s got his own reasons. It’s none of our business. I’m just forewarning, that’s all. Don’t fetch too many snoops in too soon.’

  Rosie stared pensively into space. ‘It makes sense. That so-called reading room smells more like a place that’s lived in. Poor sod.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it. He loves living there, especially now that you’ve pressed ’im into fetching a bit more life into the place. Tea?’

  With doubts creeping into her head, Rosie went into the kitchen to fill the kettle. Why had she allowed a madcap idea to grow into a roller coaster? If she were to stop now and go back to her original plan of joining the classes, she would lose face, but that was nothing by comparison to what Larry stood to lose. Berating herself for not taking the time to sit down and ask him if he minded her closing in on his domain, she lit a cigarette, something she had not done in a long time.

  Making a snap decision to go and see him straight after work, she felt a touch lighter inside. If he managed to remove her sense of guilt then she would continue, but mark her gran’s advice. The last thing she wanted was to see him turned out on to the street. She half hoped he would tell her that he would rather she abandoned the idea now. Her thoughts switched to Tilly and the lovely curtains she had made. She and Iris had got on like a house on fire, and in three short weeks had become friends, almost as if they had known each other for years, each making regular visits to the other. They had even been to the cinema, something which Iris had not done in years, and it was all thanks to the Grand Star which had become the focal point, bringing together people who would not otherwise have met.

  If good things were coming out of this venture, why did she feel worried? Why did her mood swing from positive one day to gloom and doom the next?

  ‘You’re up early,’ said Iris, yawning. ‘Did the birds wake you as well?’

  ‘Never ’eard ’em. Gran’s been crowing, though. Wants room service.’

  ‘Does she now? I dread to think what she’s gonna be like when it dawns on ’er just how old she is. She’ll pull every stroke in the book. Have us pushing her round in a wheelchair. I bet she can’t wait.’

  Rosie chuckled. ‘Nor can I. You ready for toast yet?’

  ‘No. Just a cup of tea for now. You’d best ’ave a cooked breakfast today. Won’t get a chance to eat anything before eight, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘Why eight? Gran off somewhere, then?’

  ‘No. You are.’ Iris caught Rosie’s eye: her expression showed unease. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgot?’

  ‘I ain’t going anywhere tonight. George’s coming round.’

  ‘No… he’s meeting you from work, and the pair of you are going to see a mate of his – who runs a pub…?’

  ‘It went right out of my mind! Sod it, I was looking forward to putting me feet up and watching television. I wonder if he’ll go without me?’

  ‘Well it’s up to you, but… if it was me, I’d want to be there. Find out what the profit is on drink. You might wanna stock and run the bar yourself. Or just get a bar manager in.’

  ‘That’s true. Left to George, he’d offload as much as he could. Thinks I’m taking on too much as it is. He wouldn’t be able to run it – once he’s got the tobacconist’s up and running…’

  She sipped her tea and sighed. ‘Oh well… I’ll watch television tomorrow night instead.’

  ‘No… you’ve arranged to meet the carpet cleaner at the Star.’ Iris picked up Harriet’s cup of tea and backed out of the kitchen. ‘I told you not to try to do it all at once.’

  Alone in the kitchen, Rosie was both worried and angry with herself for giving her gran and mum good reason to find fault with the way she was doing things. It hadn’t been her choice to become a one-man band. If an offer to take on any one of the arrangements came from anybody, she would be more than pleased. Everyone, it seemed, thought she was capable of making every decision, no matter how big.

  Feeling worse by the minute, she remembered that she had also arranged to see another of George’s contacts, an electrician, who had given a word of caution about not having the entire system checked out. Wincing against a sharp pain in her groin, she realized what time of the month it was and why her mood was swinging to and fro. She opened the cupboard and took out a bottle of aspirin, hoping they would work before the painful cramps began.

  ‘Headache?’ said Iris, returning from Harriet’s room.

  ‘No. I’m due for a period. I didn’t check the calendar, otherwise I would ’ave taken these pills the minute I woke up. I’m not gonna go in today. I’m going back to bed.’

  ‘I doubt if you’ll get sick pay, Rosie.’

  ‘I don’t care. I feel lousy. Tell Gran to wake me around eleven. I’ll see ’ow I feel then.’

  She took her cup of tea and made her way back to bed, not feeling half as bad as she was making out. She knew that after a few more hours of sleep she would be ready to go and see Larry. She was in need of a pep talk and he, with his casual, relaxed manner, was the very person, if not the only one, who could reassure her. Besides which, she wanted to know if he had made any progress with his application to obtain a licence to reopen the theatre. If their request had been rejected and the project had to be dropped, it wouldn’t be through any fault of hers. Once she was back in her bed with a hot-water bottle on her stomach, she drifted off into a light sleep.

  * * *

  The sound of the door knocker broke into Rosie’s dreams but did not succeed in waking her. It wasn’t until Harriet was by her bed and gently shaking her that she stirred. ‘You’ve got a visitor,’ she whispered. ‘Larry’s ’ere and looking a bit low. Won’t tell me what’s wrong. Shall I tell ’im to come in, or d’yer wanna get up and dressed?’

  ‘No… tell ’im to come in,’ yawned Rosie. ‘I’m all right now. The pain’s gone. You could fetch us both a cup of milky coffee though… and a couple of fairy cakes.’

  ‘Cheeky cow,’ Harriet tut-tutted, and left the room. Lying there, Rosie wondered why Larry had called. There was no way he could know she was taking the day off. Maybe he and Harriet were having an affair? She smiled at the thought of it, and imagined them both in the living room, working out what he should say to ward off any suspicion. It was a nice thought.

  ‘I told her not to wake you.’ Larry stood in the doorway, a sad figure. His dated suit and well-worn polished shoes befitted an old theatre caretaker, but seeing him in different surroundings, she realized that to others he must appear a bit quaint, to say the least.

  ‘What do you want?’ She smiled fondly.

  ‘To be a millionaire, but who’s listening?’

  ‘Ah… so that’s it. You’re after Harriet’s money.’

  He sat on the edge of her bed and rolled his eyes. ‘And I thought it was her after me; after my body. Why are you in bed?’

  ‘Periods. D’yer wanna hear the details.’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  ‘Right… come on then, out with it. What you doing calling on my gran in secret?’

  ‘I came to leave a message for you to come and see me, this evening. It’s time you had a phone put in. Bloody bus fares! I’ll die a poor man at this rate.’

  ‘What message?’

  ‘We can get a licence to reopen,’ he said, expressionless.

  ‘Well don’t look so pleased about it. It’s good news, ain’t it? You were ready to fight your corner; now you won’t have to.’

  ‘That’s right.’ He stood up, keeping his back to her, and looked out of the window. ‘It’s good news.’

  ‘So why the long face?’

  ‘Concessions have to be made.’ Still he wouldn’t look at her.

  ‘You mean they’re gonna turn you out of your little bedsit?’

  He nodded slowly and sighed. ‘So your grandmother has a big mouth too.’

  ‘I was getting cold feet anyway. I haven’t ’ad a minute to myself since you started all this up.’

  ‘I started it? That’s news to me.’

  ‘Shouldn’t ’ave took me there in the first place. You knew what you was doing. Anyway… don’t matter now, does it? I can please myself what I do in the evenings. Haven’t been near a dance hall in ages.’ She swallowed against the lump in her throat and murmured, ‘Not since Tommy.’

  Turning slowly to face her, Larry narrowed his watery brown eyes. ‘You expect me to give in to those bastards? After all the effort I’ve put in, cleaning that place from top to bottom?’

  ‘Excuse me… but I think that’s my line. Bloody cheek! All you and Harriet ’ave done is inspect what we’ve done.’

  ‘It shouldn’t take long for the papers to come through… three months and you could well have a licence to put on your show. Do you think you’ll have a show by then?’

  ‘You’re not listening, Larry. The Star can stay dark… and you can go on living there like a bloody hermit, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want?’

  ‘What I want and what I get are two different things. The place has been fully inspected. They guessed I was living there. I’ve got my marching orders in any case. I haven’t been paying rates since it was closed down. I’m lucky they believed me to be an ignorant old man. Now I’ve been told, I can’t plead ignorance, can I?’

  Filled with pity for the lonely figure at the window, Rosie felt the tears well up in her eyes. Taking a deep breath she said, ‘You shouldn’t be living like that anyway. You must get a pension? You can afford one pound ten a week… for lodgings?’

  ‘That’s what it has come to? I must live in some filthy, unfamiliar, poky room? And why? Because I refuse to see a fine music hall turned into a bingo hall or a supermarket, that’s why. I would rather see it become its own tombstone. Let the bloody place fall down. I should care.’

  ‘You should ’ave been an actor. Would ’ave been rich by now.’ She got out of her bed and pulled on her dressing gown. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could murder some eggs and bacon. Come on – Gran loves to do a fry-up. You might as well try out her grub now, before you commit yourself to living ’ere.’

  ‘Who said I would be living here?’ he said, trailing behind her.

  ‘Thirty bob a week ain’t gonna break the bank… and for that you’ll get your meals chucked in. You can ’ave Tommy’s room.’

  ‘Make it twenty-five shillings and maybe I’ll take it. I don’t eat bacon.’

  ‘Twenty-seven and six.’

  ‘Can’t afford it.’

  ‘All right, you tight sod, you win. But no fetching girlfriends back late at night,’ said Rosie as they arrived in the kitchen, knowing that her gran would hear.

  ‘There’s gonna ’ave to be more ground rules than that,’ Harriet pointed a spatula at his face. ‘The telly, for a start. I get to say what programmes we watch. I like Beat the Clock and I won’t miss it for nothing. Wrestling, boxing, whatever.’

  ‘You been earwigging again?’ Rosie was hardly surprised.

  ‘And I don’t want you ’anging around like an old fart when you’re not playing caretaker at the Royal. You can go out for walks if you’ve nothin’ else to do… and when I stroll about in the morning in me housecoat, I don’t want you ogling me legs.’

  ‘With a face like that…’ said Larry in his usual dry tone, ‘who would want to look at your legs?’

  ‘Go and show ’im ’is room, Rosie, while I chuck some bacon into the frying pan. Then you can get dressed. Walking about in your dressing gown at this time of the bloody day.’

  ‘Is she always in this mood?’

  ‘No. She’s ’appy ’cos you’ve agreed to live ’ere. Come on.’

  ‘So that’s it? No long discussions? No checking with Iris?’

  ‘If you want the room…’ warned Harriet, ‘best we don’t ask ’er – otherwise there will be long-drawn-out ifs and buts. I know ’ow to handle Iris. She’ll be pleased with the extra rent money.’

  Once they had left what she now considered to be her kitchen, Harriet leaned against the sink and resisted shedding a tear of joy. To have a man about the place again would be heaven. She would have someone to play cards and dominoes with. She closed her eyes and dabbed away the tear on her face: Good boy, Tommy. I knew you was up there watching and guiding.

  Having enjoyed her breakfast, Rosie was ready to bathe, dress and make her way to the brewery. At least she had only lost half a day’s pay, and she had saved herself a trip to the theatre to see Larry. While they ate, Larry had dispelled her doubts about the project and induced even more enthusiasm. As far as he was concerned, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain, adding that if she was going to change her mind, he would be only too pleased to stay in his theatre bedsit and defy the authorities. If the music hall was not reopened, as she had promised, he would have to fill his time with something else – chaining himself and his bed to a door handle. Even if it meant going to prison. What could she say?

  * * *

  Standing separate from the crowd of workers as they poured out of the brewery, Rosie, waiting for George, kept an eye out for her mother. When she did finally spot her, she was both pleased and surprised to see her chatting away to one of the men. She looked happier than Rosie had ever seen her. A smile on her face, she appeared a new woman. Once she and the man parted company, Iris looked around to see Rosie waiting.

  ‘Not like George to be late, is it? He’s usually here before we come out,’ she said, wondering if she had got it wrong.

  ‘He must ’ave got held up in the traffic. Anyway, I wanted to ’ave a quick word with you. Gran probably wants to tell you ’erself, but… well… since I was the one who instigated it…’

  ‘Instigated what?’ Iris lowered her head to one side and waited.

  ‘I thought the money would come in ’andy… if we let Tommy’s bedroom.’

  ‘If that’s meant to be a joke, it’s not funny. In fact it’s a very cruel thing to say, Rosie. I can’t believe you said it.’ She turned her face away and swallowed. ‘You’ve still not forgiven me, have you? Still trying to get your own back.’

  ‘That’d take years.’ The words were out before she could stop them. ‘Oh, don’t pull that face; I never meant it. It’s the things you say, at times. You get my back up. And I wasn’t being funny… I’d have a bloody strange sense of humour if I was joking.

  ‘Larry’s been turned out of his home. It’s either our spare room or the doss ’ouse. He came round this morning to leave a message. We’ve got permission to open but there’s a price to pay – that poor sod ’aving nowhere to live.’

  ‘He didn’t live in that place, surely to God?’

  ‘Yes, he did. Try to imagine if it was Gran living all alone in a room in an old disused music hall.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’ Iris sighed and shook her head. ‘Why on earth didn’t he say something before now… and more to the point why has Tilly let it go on? She’s got a spare room. She could ’ave taken him in.’

 

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