‘he may have already done so. He was off to track down Elspeth’s boyfriend when he left me. You’ll know him, I should think. He works backstage at the theatre.’
‘Surely you don’t mean Hedley?’ asked Lettice, so shocked that her fork was temporarily halted in its relentless ascent from the plate. ‘He wouldn’t hurt a flea – it’s just not in him.’
‘And even if he did, he certainly wouldn’t be clever enough to get away with it,’ added Ronnie, for whom kindness was no adequate substitute for wit. ‘If the girl had been walking out with McCracken, I could believe in a crime passionnel – the woman just oozes spite, and if she’s got a murderous streak then none of us are safe. But I can’t see Hedley taking up arms, and you know me –
happy to see the bad in anyone.’
Long practised at ignoring her sister’s asides, Lettice pressed on with her questioning. ‘Is it really Hedley’s girlfriend who’s been killed? None of us ever saw her, but he’s blossomed since they met and Lydia says he absolutely worships the ground she walks on.
She was teasing him about it just the other day, daring him to 98
show her off to us. He’ll be devastated: I can’t believe he had anything to do with it.’
‘But he was in a very funny mood this afternoon,’ Ronnie said.
‘And he rushed off like a bat out of hell, although I gather he was due a bollocking from Aubrey over something so you can’t blame him for a hasty exit. Well, well – Hedley White. It just shows, doesn’t it?’ she added inconclusively.
‘Don’t make me regret telling you that by spreading it around,’
said Josephine. ‘If he turns out to be completely innocent, he’ll have enough to cope with without every Tom, Dick and Harry looking at him as though he should have a noose around his neck.
And anyway, I’m not going to start imagining that people are waiting for me in dark corners all over London just to please Archie.
Let’s face it,’ she added caustically, ‘the ones we have to deal with in broad daylight are behaving badly enough at the moment.’
Josephine’s reference to the bickering amongst cast and crew at the theatre was not lost on the Motleys, who had seen her attitude towards those involved in her play go from excitement to admiration to irritation over the last year. With the exception of Lydia, who was the most established of the cast when the run began and who had remained gracious in the face of its unprecedented success, those who had gained fame and fortune through the play had not impressed its author with their tantrums and jealousies and determination to cash in on every opportunity it offered – and she had made that perfectly clear. Not that she had any moral objections to commercial success – she believed wholeheartedly that the purpose of telling a story was to entertain an audience and the money had given her the freedom to do what she most loved – but its trappings bored her and she simply did not need that many complications, or that many people, in her life. All in all, the experience had made her approach the staging of another work in a very different spirit, one that questioned the sense of doing it at all.
The solitary appeal of the novel, which required her to rely on no one but herself and Brisena, grew stronger by the day.
Nothing that the Motleys had to report about the afternoon’s meeting was likely to change her mind. ‘I know your day wasn’t 99
easy,’ said Lettice, ‘but at least it was less fractious than the one you were supposed to have. Bernard kept us waiting for ages while he made some telephone calls and then, when he finally did call us all in, I’ve never seen anybody less in the mood to compromise.
It’ll be a wonder if he has any staff left by curtain-up.’
‘I’ve got better things to do with my life than listen to your childish arrogance,’ boomed Ronnie in a passable impression of Aubrey. ‘Then he stormed out, giving Johnny no chance to have the full tantrum he’d been planning so carefully. He had it anyway, of course, but without the audience it was meant for.’
‘Don’t tell me nothing was agreed,’ Josephine said impatiently.
‘I think it would be more accurate to say decided than agreed,’
said Lettice, wiping the contrasting sauces from her plate with the last piece of bread. ‘Bernard made it quite clear from the start that any changes to the plans for a tour of Richard were quite out of the question. He’s insisting that if any money is to be made from it out of London, then it must go now on the back of the momentum it has here and it must go with the cast that people have heard so much about and will pay to see. He said he owed that much to you, if nothing else.’
‘There was a time when I would have appreciated that,’ said Josephine. ‘Now, with everything that’s happened, it can’t be over too soon for me. But he’s right about the timing of a tour, of course. I can see why Johnny needs a change, but this is the moment and Aubrey was never going to let him out of a signed contract. Anyway, it’s only eight weeks, for God’s sake. Surely he can grin and bear it for that long without ruining his career?’
‘You’d think so, although from what he was saying I got the impression that Johnny’s worries at the moment have more to do with money than artistic integrity. He’s usually so choosy about where he wants to go next, but there was a touch of the desperate about him today. He wants this film for the money, pure and simple. If it comes off, he knows how pathetic a stage salary – even his
– will seem by comparison.’
‘In the meantime, he’ll just have to stay strapped like the rest of us because there’s no doubt that your name, Richard’s glory and 100
Johnny’s frustration will all be enjoying April in Manchester. The Producer has spoken,’ Ronnie summarised neatly, ‘and that is the script we’ll be using.’
‘And a murder doesn’t affect his plans?’ Josephine asked. ‘No, you’re right, of course,’ she continued, matching Ronnie for sarcasm. ‘I suppose the only inconvenience that death seems to be causing is by coming at the end of the run. As a publicity stunt, it really would have been so much more beneficial for those quiet matinees just after Christmas.’
‘Although to be fair,’ said Lettice, a little more charitably,
‘Aubrey doesn’t realise it was Hedley’s girlfriend. I know we lapped up the drama of it all when we saw the latest account in the paper, but it’s turning out to be a lot closer to home than we could have suspected. He’s really taken that boy under his wing in the last couple of months, and whether he has to deal with Hedley’s guilt or just his grief, it won’t be easy for him.’
There was no telling which it would be at this stage, thought Josephine, although she had found it difficult to reconcile either Lettice’s opinion of Hedley White or Elspeth’s obvious affection for him with the person who possessed enough nerve and malice to carry out the murder which had been described to her. She wondered how Archie and Fallowfield were getting on in their search for the boy: he was all they had to go on at the moment, but she could not believe in her heart that the solution was as simple as a lovers’ quarrel. In just one short meeting, it had seemed evident to her that the Simmonses were a complex family in which relationships existed on very fragile foundations. Secrets – between husband and wife, between mother and daughter, between brothers –
were in plentiful supply, and she could not forget the hurt in Frank Simmons’s eyes when he realised that his wife knew more about Elspeth’s past than he did. How had he really felt at the prospect of losing the cherished company of his niece to another man? And a man who so obviously shared her passions and could open the door for her to a living, breathing theatre rather than to one enclosed in a glass case. As fascinating as it was, she could not help but feel that Simmons’s extraordinary pocket of nostalgia was a lit-101
tle obsessive, to say the least. She thought again about the alibi that he had given to Archie: was a waitress – run off her feet in a busy coffee shop – really able to put reliable timings on anything, particularly something that was part of an established routine?
Dessert arrived, Stulik needing no further prompting to bring three hot, sweet soufflés to his favourite table. ‘It is all in the steel of the nerve and the strength of the hand on the whisk,’ he said modestly, shrugging off their admiration and remaining oblivious to Ronnie’s smirk.
‘I hardly dare ask if the boys got round to discussing Queen of Scots,’ Josephine asked, when the only evidence that remained of Stulik’s mastery with a whisk was a light dusting of icing sugar on Lettice’s top lip.
‘Oh, they certainly did,’ Ronnie replied, passing her napkin across to her sister. ‘But that just dealt another blow to any prospect of negotiation. When he couldn’t get anywhere with the film, Johnny tried to throw his weight about on the casting for your next play. He demanded that Rafe Swinburne play Bothwell and threatened to walk out if he didn’t get his way.’
‘That’s when Bernard really lost his temper. He said that Swinburne was never getting another job from him, and that he refused to have his theatres used as a . . . as a . . .’
‘As an expensive rehearsal for a cheap fuck was the phrase I believe he used,’ said Ronnie, gleefully jumping in as her more modest sister faltered. ‘Anyway, Aubrey just pointed out that if Lewis Fleming would have been good enough to tour as Richard, then he’d be perfectly fine to stay here as Bothwell.’
‘So the stage is set for another triumphant night in the West End,’ said Josephine with a heavy dose of irony. ‘A happy cast, an untroubled crew and death in the wings – what more could we ask for? But at least it sounds like this film is dead in the water: I can do without that sort of fate-baiting at the moment.’
‘Oh no dear, you haven’t heard the best bit yet.’ Ronnie’s pause to look for her lighter had the desired dramatic effect on Josephine, who impatiently offered her own in exchange for the rest of the story. ‘Well, I couldn’t decide if Aubrey was simply flex-102
ing his muscles or if he really thinks it’s a good idea,’ she said, inhaling deeply, ‘but his final move was his deadliest. He calmed down after the cheap fuck exchange, and announced very firmly that he had every intention of financing a film of Richard, but he wasn’t certain that Johnny was the right man for the role on screen.’
‘Darling, you should have seen the look on Johnny’s face. I thought he was going to hit him,’ Lettice said with feeling before looking questioningly at Ronnie, who nodded slightly. ‘And that’s not the only disappointment, I’m afraid. He’s made it clear that he wants Lillian Gish for Anne of Bohemia, not Lydia. He says she has all the qualities on screen that Lydia has on stage, and that she’s a bigger name in the film world. I really don’t know what’s come over him.’
‘And that, my dear, was that,’ finished Ronnie with a flourish.
‘Aubrey stormed out, muttering something which had
“McCracken” and “bitch” in the same sentence, and we were left to mop up what was left of Johnny.’
As they paid the bill, Josephine was speechless. She loathed the extent to which she was losing control of her work, but could see no way out of the tangle of triumph and disillusionment that seemed to be its inevitable companion. Even if she refused to have anything to do with a film of her play, there was nothing to stop Aubrey asking another writer to produce something along the same lines. As she had argued successfully against Vintner in court, there was no copyright on history. And anyway, in a sense the damage had already been done. Film or no film, in a circle as small as this one, there was no way that Lydia could be protected from the knowledge that she had been overlooked – and for a woman who had been at the top of her profession since the age of fifteen, the journey down was bound to be a painful one.
On the way out, they looked for their host to thank him but Stulik’s attention had already been diverted to another party, recently arrived and headed by a distinguished elderly gentleman around whom the proprietor clucked like a mother hen.
‘Look! It’s Sickert,’ exclaimed Lettice, less subtly than she could 103
have. ‘Thank God Lydia’s not here or he’d be all over us. I can’t believe she spent all that time alone with him. There’s something very shifty about him, don’t you think?’ she asked with a shiver.