The Boy I Love Page 3

  Sally had been looking forward to spending time with them all over the month of August. Now here she was, feeling sorry for herself. She got up and gave her mother a hug, saying, ‘I am so stupid, really. I’m just so happy to be home. Come on, let’s get these boxes sorted out and then we can go and have a large glass of wine with Dad.’

  The two women attacked the bags, sorting the rubbish from the washing and from the ‘keep forever’ memorabilia that gathers through three years of college. It was a gorgeous summer’s day and all the windows were open. The sweet perfume of honeysuckle and mown grass wafted through the house, along with the call of a blackbird above the constant hum of buzzing bees. Sally was always caught unawares by the clarity of these sounds compared to London, where everything was lost in the general drumming of city noise, sliced through with the occasional siren. Here in her parents’ loving home, surrounded by trees and blue sky, she revelled in a sense of complete well-being. It gave her strength.

  ‘Come on, darling, stop daydreaming and get a move on,’ her mother urged. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime and your dad will be expecting a visit.’ She gathered all the bags ready to go and went to fetch the car keys, adding, ‘We can celebrate having our daughters home for the summer.’

  Chapter 4

  There was a letter from Crewe Theatre waiting for Sally the next morning. It contained a digs list and a reminder that under the Esher Standard Contract issued by Equity, the actors’ union, the artiste (Sally in this case) was obliged to provide an evening dress for the season, and to use her own clothes as and when required. The management was only obliged to provide period costumes.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she gasped over her boiled egg and soldiers. ‘I have to wear my own clothes!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Dora. ‘What does the letter say?’ She grabbed it from her sister and read the instructions issued therein. Then: ‘My God, Sally, there isn’t a play written that could possibly include your wardrobe,’ she said, and burst out laughing.

  ‘Shut up, Dora! What do you mean by that? There is nothing wrong with the way I dress, is there?’

  Dora laughed even louder and Patricia came into the kitchen to find out what all the fuss was about.

  ‘Mum, tell Sally what is wrong with her dress sense, please. Can one even begin to describe the lack of sartorial savvy?’

  ‘Dora, please stop cackling, it is very unbecoming. What is the problem here?’

  ‘I have had a letter from the theatre,’ explained Sally, ‘telling me I have to provide my own clothes, except where period costume is required – and I have to take an evening dress. I don’t own a dress, never mind an evening one!’ she wailed.

  ‘Oh dear,’ sympathized her mother. ‘I do see your problem. Dora, will you stop giggling! Sally dresses very individually, I will grant you, but she is not completely without taste.’ This response drew further sniggers from Dora.

  ‘Oh, do shut up, Dora!’ snapped Sally. ‘The joke wears thin, methinks. So what am I going to do?’

  ‘Well, we will have to sort you out. There is a fantastic vintage clothes shop in Cheltenham, and lots of jumble sales we can rummage through. If the worst comes to the worst, Dora can make you an evening dress, can’t you, dear?’ Patricia turned to her youngest daughter. ‘Let’s make a list of useful clothes you might need in a season. Do you have any idea what plays they are going to do? That would help enormously.’

  Dora jumped up from the table, saying, ‘Listen, sis, we can have a great time putting your wardrobe together. We will turn you into a style icon, don’t you worry.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a style icon, thank you very much,’ responded Sally rather grumpily. ‘I am an actress.’

  ‘We know, but there is no reason why you can’t be a smartly dressed actress. Come on, let’s get down the town and do a bit of shopping.’

  Dora was practically out of the front door. Patricia stopped her with, ‘Hold on, darling, just a moment.’ She went out of the kitchen and across the hall to the study, and came back two minutes later with her purse. ‘I want to give you both a little something to spend.’ She handed them both some cash.

  The girls protested but she went on, ‘I don’t often get the chance to spoil you, and now seems as good a time as ever. I actually sold a painting last month and I have another commission, so please let me share my good fortune with my beautiful daughters. And listen, if you can’t find an evening dress, Sally, get a pattern and Dora and I will make it for you. Dora knows where to buy gorgeous material, don’t you, darling?’

  ‘Oh yes, absolutely. Thank you so much, Mum, this is fantastic of you. Oh my God, I am so excited. Shopping – and with some money for a change.’ And she was off once more towards the front door.

  Sally picked up her bag and started to follow, then stopped and gave her mother a big hug. ‘Thank you so much for this. I will make you proud.’

  ‘Go on, you have made me proud already.’ Patricia kissed her and shooed her off, ‘Now get going or your sister will grab all the best buys first.’

  The girls made straight for the vintage clothes shop. Dora knew the owner, Jackie, who was the mother of a girl she had been at school with. Jackie was very interested to hear all about Sally’s job and the theatre.

  ‘Please take my number in case you need anything later in the season,’ she said to Sally. ‘Maybe the wardrobe department at Crewe will be interested in some of my stock. Do you know what plays you are doing yet?’

  ‘No, not yet, but I can certainly let you know,’ said Sally.

  Dora was already going through the rail of dresses. ‘Ooh, look. This is beautiful, Sal, and would really suit you. Come on, try it on.’

  The girls spent the best part of half an hour trying on dresses until poor Sally was bug-eyed.

  ‘I can’t remember what I have tried on!’ she cried. ‘It is exhausting.’

  Dora had narrowed the choice down to two dresses. One was a 1950s satin dress, very fitted at the waist with a low neckline and off the shoulder. The other was a simple satin dress cut on the bias, so very flattering for the figure, and rather sexy. It was black.

  ‘This one needs some sparkly jewellery to set it off,’ announced Dora, holding the black satin up.

  ‘I have no idea which one to choose,’ sighed Sally, who had really had enough and was thinking about a glass of wine and some shepherd’s pie in the pub.

  Jackie suggested they took both.

  Well,’ agreed Dora, ‘that is the obvious answer, but I don’t think the budget will stretch that far.’

  Jackie checked the tickets on both dresses and said, ‘Look, why don’t you buy the satin one and I will give you a twenty-five per cent discount? And I will let you have the other dress on loan, so take it up to Crewe with you, and if you decide you can use it, we will re-negotiate.’

  ‘Oh, that would be fantastic,’ said Sally. ‘If you are really sure?’ And when Jackie nodded her assent: ‘Thank you so much. Actually, it could be very useful for Crewe because we might well need some period stuff and we could liaise with you. That is brilliant, Jackie.’

  The girls were on a high as they left the shop and danced down the street.

  ‘How amazing is that?’ said Dora. ‘Come on, we will celebrate with a quick glass of wine in the wine bar, then onto more mundane attire like trousers and tops. I want to take you to this terrific boutique that has opened recently. They have really unusual stuff and it is cheap.’ With that she was off across the street, skipping towards the wine bar, followed by an equally excited Sally clutching her bag of goodies in her hands.

  By the end of the day, the sisters returned home worn out. They flopped down on the sofa surrounded by bags. Patricia made them a cup of tea and then sat down and waited for the fashion parade to begin.

  Dora took charge and explained about the two evening dresses. Much against her will, Sally made one last effort and modelled them for her mother.

  ‘Oh yes, girls, you have done well. They are both beau
tiful and so different. I remember having a dress like this for one of the Chelsea Arts balls,’ Patricia said softly, remembering the joy of dancing all night and feeling so beautiful in her dress. ‘The fifties one is gorgeous, Sally, and has a very flattering neckline because it shows off one’s shoulders as well as a bit of bosom.’

  Sally laughed at her mother’s rather coy choice of word for the old cleavage.

  ‘Bosom? Oh, Mother, that is so ladylike!’ she chortled.

  ‘Well, I suppose it is, but it was what we called it in my day. Now the black dress is very sexy, isn’t it? Let’s hope the theatre does some Noël Coward and then you will have the perfect outfit. It needs some jewellery though, doesn’t it?’

  Dora chipped in, ‘Exactly what I said, so we should go jumble-sale hunting on Saturday and pick up a bit of sparkle.’

  ‘Good idea,’ agreed Patricia. ‘Now show me what else you have bought, please.’

  Sally was secretly thrilled that her sister had sorted out her wardrobe for her. She knew she had no real flair and was not at all interested in fashion. She lived in a couple of pairs of trousers, a few shirts and jumpers, and a standard navy jacket for every occasion. Dora had found her some great-fitting jeans, and some lovely suede boots to go with them. ‘But also handy when it gets cold with some thick tights and a short skirt,’ Dora had suggested.

  There was a very useful three-quarter-length wool jacket which looked great over T-shirts, and also a couple of long tops which just covered the bum, and were simple yet attractive. Dora was able to mix and match and put several outfits together for Sally with ease.

  ‘I don’t know how you are able to see these things so easily,’ remarked Sally. ‘Thank you, Dora, you really have been an enormous help.’

  Dora turned to face her, and said in a deliberately casual tone: ‘Sally, I was thinking that maybe I could see if there was a job going in the wardrobe at Crewe. I would really love to come and learn all about costumes and design. I have already applied for uni next autumn to do Business Studies, and rather than take a gap year it would be great to actually earn some money and learn other stuff, you know? Who can tell: I may even decide to be a designer instead of an entrepreneur. Shall I telephone and see what the state of play is, do you think?’ Dora sighed happily. ‘It would just be so great if we could work together, and get a flat or something, wouldn’t it?’

  Sally felt a flicker of guilt. It would be lovely to have Dora with her – but then again, there was a part of her that wanted to have this adventure by herself. It was her first real job and there would be so much to learn. She wanted it to be her experience, her own personal journey. Dora was so different from her. She was extrovert and outgoing and up for anything. Sally sometimes felt outshone by her sister’s joie de vivre. But that was so selfish of her. How mealy-mouthed can I be? she rebuked herself.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied aloud. ‘Why not ring them and see what they say.’

  As it happened, things worked out rather well. Giles Longfellow’s PA, Susan Chambers, explained to Dora that there was a resident wardrobe mistress called Mrs Enid Weaver who lived locally in Crewe. However, Giles had decided that he needed someone younger for this season, so he had hired a lady called Gwendoline Stewart who would do most of the work while Enid would come in twice a week to supervise. It would have been very difficult for Giles to sack Enid as she was a stalwart of the theatre, so he was treading very softly. It had been suggested that for the beginning of the season, things should be left to Enid and Gwendoline to organize, and then perhaps a few weeks later there might be a vacancy for an assistant. Would it be possible for Dora to hang on and join later?

  Dora was thrilled, and as far as Sally was concerned, it was perfect because it gave her a chance to establish herself in the company and find her feet. She would be able to sort out her living arrangements with an eye to being able to offer Dora a home there eventually. But it would be her place. She needed to feel secure in herself, and her work, before her sister came and joined her. This way it was her territory.

  Sally had thought hard about all this, and decided it was natural to feel territorial. She and Dora were very close and rarely argued, but they had never lived together since school, and certainly never worked together in such a closed environment. Sally knew from her drama-school days just how insular actors could be. They were very cliquey, and could make outsiders feel very uncomfortable. She would obviously ensure that Dora did not feel like an outsider – but she could only do that successfully if she was in control of her own surroundings. By the time Dora arrived, Sally hoped, she would be Queen of all she surveyed . . .

  Chapter 5

  Sally was determined to catch up with her best friend from school while she was at home. Muriel McKinney was a teacher in a school for handicapped children, and Sally admired her enormously. She was a rare and special person. The response to her telephone call was immediate and excited.

  ‘Sally! How fantastic to hear your voice. Where are you? How are you?’ Muriel screamed down the phone.

  Sally couldn’t help laughing. ‘God, Muriel, that voice could launch a thousand tugs! I am home for two or three weeks so we have to have a catch-up. When is a good time for you?’

  ‘Oh, there is so much to talk about. I am getting married in December,’ her friend announced out of the blue.

  ‘Well, that has shut me up for a start. Married? How long have you known the guy? You haven’t mentioned him to me.’ Sally was taken aback. It only seemed like a few weeks ago that she had been talking to Muriel and discussing a girls’ night out.

  ‘Sally, you are hopeless! We have not spoken for months. I feel terrible that I have not been in touch to keep you posted, but you know what it’s like with work and everything. His name is Dave and he is a folk singer with a band. In fact, he is doing a gig on Saturday night at the Hen and Chickens – remember where we always used to go? Well, he will be there doing his bit, so why not come with me and Mack. You remember Mack, don’t you?’ she teased.

  ‘Oh please, come on. How is your hunky brother?’ Sally recalled how she had always been a little flustered around her friend’s big brother. Mack had seemed very moody and mysterious to a young girl like Sally. She could picture him now with his incredibly blue eyes smiling down at her.

  ‘Doing really well. He is a successful photographer and sculptor. I know he would love to see you, Sal. Shall we meet up at the pub at seven on Saturday then, and you can vet my beloved. Not that I will listen to a bad word against him!’ Muriel said happily.

  ‘Great. I will see you there. It is so lovely to hear your voice, my dear friend. Bye!’ Sally replaced the receiver, beaming with well-being. Life was good.

  The rest of the week passed all too quickly as Sally put her house in order. She arranged with Douglas to drive up to Crewe on Sunday morning.

  ‘Is that a good idea?’ ventured Dora. ‘We are all going out on Saturday night, don’t forget. Do you want to be looking for digs with a hangover?’

  ‘Mmmm. You have a point, sister dear. But I don’t think I will have any choice. Dad won’t want to spend a weekday up there, will he? I will just have to practise self-control.’

  In fact, Saturday night proved very jolly, and not at all as raucous as it might have been. Dora didn’t join them at the pub in the end as she decided to go to the movies with an old friend. (Or a new beau, if the truth be known!) So Sally met Muriel and Dave and the lovely Mack in the Hen and Chickens by herself. It was strange to be back on her old turf having a night out like normal folk. Sally always distinguished people who were not in the acting profession as normal. Actors were a breed apart, and a group of them together was like a flock of starlings continually screeching and pecking and jostling for position. Sitting in the pub that Saturday night was pleasantly soothing, and Sally felt very relaxed. Mack was good fun and very attentive. It almost felt like a date.

  ‘So, what do you think of Dave?’ Mack asked when Muriel had gone to the cloakroom.


  ‘He seems very nice,’ Sally replied truthfully. ‘Why do you ask? And Muriel seems very happy.’

  ‘Well, he is my future brother-in-law, so I have a vested interest in the success of the romance.’ Mack got up to go to the bar. ‘Another cider?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Sally passed him her glass and watched him lope off to get the drinks. He really was very attractive – and such a lovely man, she thought to herself. How good would it be to find someone like him to share things with? But she knew it was pointless even considering a relationship while she was pursuing her goals in the theatre. She was going to need every ounce of concentration to do a play every two weeks, and work on the stage management team. At drama school they had had a few classes on stage management, but nothing much. The biggest challenge had been to build a set to scale with all the scenery and furniture. It was fun, but no one took it very seriously. Certainly Sally herself had never expected in a million years that she would be employed as an Assistant Stage Manager, for goodness sake! Like most actors her ego was sufficiently healthy that she had assumed she would be playing roles, not making props.

  ‘Penny for them?’ Mack startled her as he sat down and put the drinks on the table.

  ‘Oh blimey, you gave me a fright. I was miles away,’ Sally told him.

  ‘In sunny Crewe, by any chance?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact. How did you guess?’ Sally asked, taking a sip of her cider.

  ‘Well, I do know you a little bit, Miss Thomas, and as I recall you are a very committed young lady. Therefore I would imagine that you are already trying to work out what it is all going to be like up there.’

  Sally grinned sheepishly. ‘Well, yes, I am a bit distracted. Sorry, but it is all rather scary.’