Keep on Dancing, page 18
Rosie flicked back her long hair and chuckled. ‘Can you really imagine Larry and Tilly living in the same ’ouse? You know she’s houseproud. You could eat out of her lavatory. He wouldn’t last five minutes – and anyway, he wouldn’t want to go there.’
‘That’s true, she does have a problem. The Star’s benefited from it, I’ll say that. Them old Victorian lavatories and washstands in the ladies – and the gents – were thick with lime scale. Now they’re gleaming white as if they’re brand new. So was it you who said he could stop for a while, or your gran?’
‘Me. I couldn’t ’elp it. I felt sorry for ’im. You would ’ave done as well – if you were there when he called round. Talk about dejected. Tommy would ’ave done the same if it was my bedroom going spare… if it had been me who those bastards had—’
‘Yeah, all right, Rosie. I take your point. So when does he want to move in with us, then?’
‘I’m not sure. We didn’t fix anything. Wanted to know what you thought about it first. It’s your ’ouse, after all’s said and done.’
‘Our house Rosie; our home. I’ll have a word with him. I s’pose he’ll keep your gran off my back. She can play cards with him instead of nagging at me. I wouldn’t mind if she played properly.’
‘She can’t help cheating, you know that. She don’t know how to play straight.’ Rosie looked around for George as the last of the workers drifted out of Charrington’s.
‘Perhaps I did get it wrong. Maybe he never said he’d meet you today.’
‘He did. Definitely. You go on; I’ll give him twenty minutes and then make my way home. No – on seconds thoughts, I’ll go on to Shirley’s if he don’t come. Tell Gran to put me dinner on steam… and Mum… be nice to Larry, eh?’
‘’Course I will. Tilly’s gonna get a mouthful, though, when I see ’er. Fancy letting him stay in a place like that!’ She gave Rosie a wave and strolled off towards home.
One round nicely scored, thought Rosie, that’ll take the wind out of Gran’s sails. She imagined Harriet looking forward to Iris’s return, when she would play a little game of cat and mouse in trying to persuade her daughter into something she had already accepted. She wished she could be there to see it; you don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for, Larry.
Checking her watch for the umpteenth time, she decided that fifteen minutes was long enough to wait and that if George was coming, she would see him on her way and flag him down. Strolling idly along, her mind back on the Star, she reached Whitehorse Lane before she knew it. Where her bloke had got to she had no idea; it wasn’t like him to be late or to forget a date. The thought of him having had an accident made her feel sick inside – she couldn’t imagine her life without him now.
‘You’re late, whore.’ The familiar loathsome voice sent icy waves through her yet again and brought her up sharp. Bertie looked up at the clock above the pawnbroker’s, ‘Twenty minutes late. Been up against the wall, have you?’ Smiling and cocksure, he sidestepped and sauntered off.
With anger rising from the pit of her stomach, she swore under her breath and strode forward, following in his footsteps and then overtaking him. Stopping, she turned to face him, blocking his way. ‘That’s the last time. I’m warning you, once more and I’ll arrange for your nose to be put back the way it was.’
‘My nose is the way it was – no thanks to you.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she grinned back at him. ‘Either you’re eyesight’s not as good as you think it is or you can’t face the truth. You’re gonna have to live with that crooked nose… and you’re gonna ’ave to live with the fact that you came off worse. Take it like a man.’ She flicked her hair back and walked away, undaunted by his flow of abuse or his quickening footsteps.
‘You won’t know when I’m likely to pop up, which doorway I’ll be lurking in on a dark night.’ He was by her side and keeping in step. ‘I can keep this up for months… years even. It adds a little colour to life.’
‘Keep walking, otherwise I’ll scream blue murder… and don’t think I won’t.’
He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘What will you scream, pray? Rape?’
‘No, you silly bastard – I wouldn’t ’ave to go that far.’ She stopped suddenly, took a deep breath and opened her mouth wide. Bertie was gone in a flash, marching away and disappearing into a side street. One more appearance and she would tell George what was happening; sod the consequences. At least this time he hadn’t unnerved her: if anything, he had shown himself to be an idiot, educated or not.
Continuing on her way, having decided against going to her friend’s house, she wondered why some people behaved so weirdly. Were lives so empty that they had to be filled with malice? She could understand the spite he first felt towards her but now, with all signs of genuine anger gone, there was no reason for him to continue playing his silly games. She shuddered and wiped his face from her mind. With other, more important things to think about she pulled her keys from her pocket, again wondering why George had not turned up. He was still showing off over Richard, but it wasn’t in his nature to try and score points by standing her up. With the thought that he might be losing interest in her, she realized that she would have to pay him more attention. She had been neglecting him. So wrapped up in her thoughts over the musical, she had hardly given George the time of day, and she would rather risk everything than lose his love. The incredible attraction between them on that first date had developed into something far deeper than she imagined it ever could. She loved him through and through. Exactly when it had happened she didn’t know. It was as if it had crept up and consumed her when she wasn’t looking.
‘The prodigal daughter returns,’ Larry smiled as he rested back in a fireside chair, sipping a glass of stout. ‘I hope you wiped your feet before you came in.’
‘I might ’ave bloody known you’d ’ave your boots under the table already. No fetching women back after dark.’
‘He’s not in yet. Can’t make up ’is blooming mind as to when he might kick his shoes off. You’re gonna catch it from George, my girl. He waited till your mother got in and then went straight out to the brewery.’ Harriet peered up at the clock. ‘Another ten minutes and Richard the Lionheart’ll be back as well. Fireworks’ll go up if he gets ’ere before George is back.’ She made no effort to hide her amusement.
‘I was wrong, Rosie,’ Iris said as she arrived with a casserole dish filled with piping-hot oxtail stew. ‘He said he’d come round here after work. I said it was me who’d got it wrong.’ She placed the food in the centre of the table and nodded at Harriet. ‘Show Larry to the table then.’
‘Sod off, Iris. Show ’im to the table? Got eyes, ain’ he?
‘Such a charming woman.’ Larry slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know why someone hasn’t snapped her up. It would be such a joy to wake in the mornings and see Harriet’s face on the pillow.’
Rosie looked at Larry and rolled her eyes. ‘Come on; get yourself up ’ere. It’s oxtail by the smell of it – one of Gran’s best. Make the most of it. You’ll be paying for two days for it.’ She made herself comfortable and dipped a slice of bread into the gravy. ‘Count yourself lucky if you get away with only ’aving to say it a dozen times… how smashing this was.’
‘I don’t doubt it. So…’ he looked at her with those half-asleep eyes, ‘what’s new?’
‘I’ve found a writers’ and actors’ group.’
‘You mean they were lost?’
Pandering to his humour, she ate her stew while explaining. ‘No… they’ve been found, by me. I heard at work about a bunch of amateurs who are really good and I’m gonna find out if they are any good; if they can sing and dance… then, if they’re interested in doing the show…’ Her voice trailed off, a deliberate ploy to get a reaction. From the evening of their first meeting until this moment, she had got to know him very well. If she went silent he would get straight to the point. If she pandered to his quips, it would take twice as long.
‘Fledglings,’ he shook his head and smiled, ‘some bloody show this will be.’
‘This is lovely, Gran,’ Rosie said quietly, trusting that Larry would believe he’d hurt her feelings.
‘Eileen from Accounts is part of that group,’ offered Iris. ‘They put on some really good shows from what I can hear. Did a panto last Christmas…’
‘Where did it go on?’ asked Larry, all-knowing.
‘At the Stepney Jewish Club.’
‘I thought as much. True-blue amateurs.’
‘Better than true-blue snobs.’
Larry raised one eyebrow. ‘I’m a snob?’
‘What’s the difference,’ said Rosie, ‘between an actor who gets paid for what they do and those who do it for love?’
‘One’s poorer than the other.’
‘Exactly. But that don’t make the poorer ones amateurs, do it?’
‘I was referring to those who get paid. Those who can’t afford not to. Those who must rely on paid work in the theatre.’
‘Why do they ’ave to rely on it? Why can’t they get a job like everyone else?’
‘Because they are actors. Actors must be ready to drop anything at a moment’s notice. They are constantly by the phone – in case it should ring.’
‘You don’t have to take that tone. I’m not thick.’ Rosie could see she was irritating him, so judged that defence was her best tactic.
‘You shouldn’t knock what you don’t know,’ said Larry. ‘A little knowledge can be dangerous.’
‘Well, if this is the bleeding way you two are gonna go on we’re in for a right old time of it. It’s bad enough with ’er talkin’ about the theatre all the time,’ fumed Harriet.
‘So you won’t be ’appy if I use anyone from the group then, Larry?’
‘Why use them when there are a thousand professionals looking for parts?’
‘But what if one of ’em was exactly right for a part. Just what I was looking for? Really good, but hadn’t taken up acting ’cos he’d had to get out there and earn a regular wage, to ’elp support the family? What then?’
‘Give him the part…’ said Larry, shrugging.
‘At least we agree on that then.’
‘…and risk getting yourself blacklisted by the union.’
‘Blacklisted? You’re talking out the back of your ’ead, Larry.’
‘You think so? Do it and see. Professional actors won’t come within a mile. They won’t work with amateurs. It’s why they’re in the union.’
‘Well I’ll just ’ave to keep my mouth shut then, won’t I… if I mix both.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ he chuckled, ‘you keeping your mouth shut.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘Then of course there’s the theatre union. You can’t have any Tom, Dick or Harry helping you out the back. If your stage manager or assistant stage manager is not in the union, you’ll get into trouble.’ Rosie placed her spoon in her half-empty bowl of stew, sat back and sighed. ‘Anything else you’d like to tell me now that I’m in too deep to get out?’
‘I’m not sure if there’s a writer’s union… you’d best check it.’
‘You’re not funny, y’know.’
‘I wasn’t trying to be. Do things properly, is all I’m saying.’
‘I intend to – don’t worry. But I don’t see why nosy bastards should put their oar in when I’m paying to put the show on. I’m the one taking the risk, don’t forget. It’s our family money that’s going into this.’
‘That won’t cut any ice with the unions.’ He looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. ‘I wonder if there’s a funding union, too? If there is they won’t want you to use the theatre as a laundry for ill-gotten gains. I assume there will be some of those… from your brother’s friends’ shady activities?’
‘It’s good honest money that’s going into that show!’ Harriet brought an end to that line of conversation. ‘Don’t pay too much attention to ’im, Rosie. He’s got a warped sense of humour – always ’as ’ad.’ She caught the expression of warning on Larry’s face and then the questioning looks between Iris and Rosie. ‘We go back a long way…’ she added quickly, ‘didn’t recognize ’im at first, but the minute we sat down in that café and he asked me to buy ’im a cheesecake, it all came flooding back.’
The brief explanation, a pack of half-truths, seemed to satisfy the women. ‘He treated me to a bottle of pop, years back… and then asked me to lend ’im ’is tram fare ’ome when I knew too bloody well he walked everywhere.’
‘You’ve got a visitor.’ The sound of the door knocker startled all three women but once again, Larry behaved as if he had expected it.
‘How the hell did you know that was gonna ’appen?’ said Harriet, impressed.
‘Extrasensory perception. It’s a pain at times. It’s a pity it didn’t work before you came back into my life. I would have locked the bloody door.’
Silenced by the happening Rosie left to answer the door, fully expecting it to be George, but it was Richard’s smiling face that greeted her. ‘Harriet said it would be all right if I called back…’
‘’Course it’s all right. Come on in.’ Rosie brushed a kiss across his cheek and linked arms. ‘You can meet Larry properly.’
Guiding him into the living room, she took his hand and held it tight. ‘Larry… I want you to meet my cousin Richard. He’s gonna direct my show… even though he’s not in the union.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Richard. I didn’t realize that she had a cousin.’ Smiling benignly, he looked from him to Iris. ‘From your husband’s side?’ His voice was full of innocence.
‘No, no…’ said Richard heartily, ‘it’s quite a story really. Iris here is… um… my first cousin, and Rosie’s my second. It’s all very scandalous. My mother and Iris’s father were brother and sister, who ended up on different sides of the track. But – tracks or no tracks – we’re family and we’ve found each other.’
‘Now that…’ chuckled Larry, ‘would make a good play. Forget Lavender Fields… write this one.’ He pulled his freshly laundered handkerchief from his pocket anticipating that he was about to cry with laughter. Harriet had filled him in on the story briefly, but seeing the son of Mary’s snobby son standing in that small room, proud to be a relative, was too much. He coughed as much as he laughed and had to mop at the flow of tears.
With one hand on his face he used the other to point at the door, his long crooked finger trembling from his laughter. ‘The door…’ he managed to say between outbursts, ‘someone is going to…’ Once again he was right. The knocker went for the second time. It was George.
‘Well…’ said Larry, standing up, ‘I promise to wash the dishes next time I come for supper, but for now… if you will excuse me, I must be going.’
‘What d’yer mean, going? Going where?’ Rosie said, while her mother went to let George in. ‘I thought you was gonna—’
‘Live here?’ he chuckled. ‘In this madhouse?’
‘You mean you’ve changed your mind?’ Rosie was genuinely disappointed.
‘No, I haven’t changed my mind. I need a bit more time, that’s all. To get used to the idea. I love my room in the theatre. I’ll keep it as long as I can. Another week or so. Besides…’ he nodded to George who appeared in the doorway, ‘I think two men are enough.’ He grabbed his overcoat from a hook beside the door and made his escape. George looked far from happy.
Once Larry had gone and George and Richard were finally introduced, the atmosphere in the living room was sedate until Harriet began to chuckle. ‘Two cockerels ruling one roost,’ she said, enjoying the sight of both men trying not to look at each other.
‘So…’ George added quickly, before she could add another quip, ‘Rosie tells me you’re interested in helping her with the show.’
‘I am, yes. I would love to direct it – if she’ll let me.’
‘She can’t afford to pay you. You’ll ’ave to do it for love.’
‘Yes… I realize that. But it’s… more for the experience than love. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Besides which… we’re family. If we can’t pull together…’
‘Oh yeah… she told me about that. Second cousins. I suppose you could say you were family. Long-lost cousins.’
‘Yes, but now that we have found each other, we’ll make up for lost time. Working together on something as exciting as this should bridge the gap. My parents should have told me. We could have spent some of our childhood together.’
‘You’ve living in the land of the make-believe if you think that,’ said Harriet, a touch peeved by his casual statement. ‘Your mother’s a snob. She wouldn’t have let you mix with latchkey kids.’
‘My kids were never left to see themselves in!’ snapped Iris. ‘I was always there for ’em. As well you know. I might not ’ave been the best mother—’
‘Oh, shut up Iris. Touchy cow. You’re not on centre stage now.’ Harriet turned to Richard. ‘I think you are, though. George wants to make certain that you’re not striving to pinch his girl.’
Abashed by her gran’s straightforward manner, Rosie left the room and went to the kitchen to splash some cold water on to her burning cheeks, hoping that George might follow her out so that she could throw her arms around his neck and clear any doubts from his mind.
Richard lowered his eyes, avoiding George’s formidable expression. ‘I know I must appear naive, but from the very first day I came to this part of London I felt as if I were coming home. I really can’t explain it. I just feel comfortable around here. I can only assume that it’s because this is where part of my family roots are. Now that I’ve discovered…’ he looked up, smiled and shrugged, ‘Rosie, Harriet and Iris…’
‘Yeah, well, as long as giving ’er a hand with the show is all you’ve got in mind…’
‘That and becoming part of this family. You have to understand… my family is not like this one. There isn’t this kind of warmth.’ He wiped perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. ‘I’m not criticizing my parents. It’s just a different way of life, that’s all. Very different. When I compare the way we conduct our lives to the way you seem to come and go… as if—’
