The Boy I Love Read online

  ‘Of course it is, but you will be great. By the way, have you got a spare hour next week for me to do a photo and a piece about you? The local rag is very keen to support their first true celebrity.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t embarrass me!’ laughed Sally. ‘I am hardly anything near that status. But I would love to do the article with you. Thank you for putting it together.’

  Their conversation was halted by the opening number of the band and Dave’s voice filling the room. He was rather good actually, and Sally looked round to see where Muriel had got to. She spotted her at the front of the stage, joining in the chorus with great gusto.

  By the end of the evening, Sally was singing along to ‘Come On, Irene’ the big hit by Dexy’s Midnight Runners. It was the perfect end to a great night. They all ended up in the local Indian and then Mack offered to walk her home.

  ‘Shall I ring you Monday, to set up our photo opportunity?’ he asked as they reached Sally’s front door.

  ‘Yes, that’s fine, but could you make it at the end of the afternoon because we might not be back from Crewe?’

  ‘Sure thing. Maybe we could go and get something to eat afterwards if you fancied it?’

  Sally was suddenly very aware of Mack’s lips. They seemed very kissable. How much did she want him to kiss her? Before she could answer that question, Mack had pulled her to him and was giving her the answer. He tasted so good despite the curry and beer.

  She returned his kiss with more passion than she had intended. Finally they broke apart.

  ‘That was very unexpected,’ said Sally breathlessly.

  ‘Not for me. I have been longing to do that all night, Miss Thomas. However, I know you have to get up early so I won’t detain you. I look forward to Monday.’ He winked, then turned and walked away, leaving Sally in a bit of a tizz.

  She let herself into the house, went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and sat at the table there to gather her thoughts. Why did this have to happen now, on the eve of her big adventure? Here she was, going off into the unknown to seek her fortune – and all she could think about was her next date with Mack. Maybe it was because he seemed so solid and secure and she was feeling the exact opposite. Sitting here now in the family kitchen, surrounded by all the familiar objects from her childhood, the girl was aware of just how much her life was about to change – and she had little choice in which way it would turn.

  ‘What will be will be,’ she sighed, as she switched off the lights and tiptoed up to bed. Roll on tomorrow – and let the play begin!

  Sally was up early on Sunday morning and doing breakfast for everyone when her father appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  ‘That’s what I like to see,’ he said, ‘enthusiasm. Good on you, girl. We will get you sorted you out in no time.’ He sat down and tucked into the eggs and bacon Sally had placed in front of him.

  ‘Is Dora awake?’ she asked. ‘I wasn’t sure whether she was going to come with us or not today.’

  Before Douglas could answer, Dora herself came bounding down the stairs, saying, ‘Course I am coming with you. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Ooh, breakfast! Did you make me some, Sally?’

  Sally smiled and presented her sister with a plate of eggs and bacon.

  ‘Oh, great! You really do cook the best “full English” in the world. If you don’t make it as an actress you could always open a café.’

  ‘Hmm, it’s good to know I have a talent for something,’ replied Sally, finishing her mug of tea and clearing up the pans. ‘Where’s Mother this morning? Is she still in bed?’

  ‘Good Lord no,’ snorted Douglas. ‘She has gone off to teach a water-colour class. She sent her love, wishes us luck and says she will see us back at the ranch. Come on then, girls, we had better get a move on or we won’t make it up to Crewe before lunch.’ He swiped his plate with a piece of bread, devoured it hungrily and then placed the plate in the sink. ‘Delicious. Thanks, Sally. See you outside.’

  The girls rushed round doing the final clear-up in the kitchen, and Sally made sure she had all her addresses and phone numbers, and the maps and sheets of theatrical info she had been sent, and then they were off.

  It was still early so the roads were clear, and by ten o’clock they were bowling up the M6 making good headway. It only took them about two and half hours and by ten thirty they found themselves outside the theatre.

  Thank God the sun is shining, thought Sally because Crewe was certainly not the most welcoming town on a Sunday morning. The street was deserted and the theatre looked very shut, although Susan had assured her when she had rung that the stage door was always open from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. every day.

  ‘Let’s go round to the stage door,’ Sally suggested. ‘You can leave the car here, Dad. Come on.’

  Dora and Douglas followed Sally down the alleyway at the side of the theatre. The big red sign was still there, pointing into the doorway, and Sally pulled on the handle, relieved as it opened.

  ‘Hello! Anybody around?’ she called out.

  ‘Hello, dearie, you must be Sally Thomas. Susan said you were coming today. Welcome.’ The greeting came from a cheery, round-faced lady who filled the entire cubicle that was the stage-door entrance. ‘Lovely to meet you, pet. I am Mrs Edge – Gladys – and I am mostly front of house but I fill in – you know, when needed. We all muck in here.’

  Sally took her hand and shook it, saying, ‘Lovely to meet you too, Gladys. This is my sister Dora and my father Douglas.’

  There was no room to shake hands so Sally backed up to the outside door and let Gladys come out to them.

  ‘Now, dearie, have you got a list?’ Gladys went on. ‘I can give you some recommendations if you like, but the trouble is, most of the good stuff has gone. We have a couple of leading actors who come back every year, you see, and obviously they take the same places each time. Let’s look at your list.’

  Sally handed her the digs list which she had marked up herself with possible addresses near the theatre. Gladys peered at it.

  ‘Well now, I can tell you straight away, luv, none of these are any good because they are either taken or no longer available.’ She looked up and saw Sally’s face drop. ‘No, don’t despair. ’Cos I knew you was coming, I have had a ring round, and there are a couple of “possibles”. Would you like a flat eventually, do you think? Because there is a very nice two-bedroom up near the station. It’s only fifteen minutes’ walk away, and the lady who owns it is very decent and won’t overcharge, and she prefers females. She has got someone until October, but if we can get you in a room until then that would suit, wouldn’t it, dearie?’

  ‘That would suit perfectly, Gladys. You see, my sister Dora here is hoping to come and join me in October, so it couldn’t be better.’

  ‘Can we go and see it now though, do you think?’ chimed in Dora, who was hovering excitedly.

  ‘Well, I can ring her and see,’ said Gladys. ‘I have also got the number for a room in a house in the next road. I don’t know the people, but you could go and see it now while I sort out the flat.’

  ‘Sounds like a plan,’ joined in Douglas. ‘But before we set off, do you think I could use a toilet, Gladys? It has been a long drive this morning.’

  ‘Of course, dearie. Silly me, I should have offered you the convenience sooner. Go in and follow the passage down and round the corner. Do you girls want the Ladies?’ Sally decided she had better go in case the opportunity did not arise again, and left Dora to Mrs Edge’s administrations. By the time she returned, Dora seemed to have the whole plan down pat.

  ‘Right. The landlady of the flat can see us this afternoon about two, and the room round the corner is available to see now – so shall we do that, and then go and have a coffee or something and look round the town?’

  ‘Absolutely. Thanks so much, Gladys, for your help. What is the address again?’

  ‘Number 2, Stanley Terrace – it’s the next road on the left and the lady’s name is Mrs Blacklock. I have no idea
what it’s like, mind. But if it doesn’t suit, come back here. I have got one more suggestion up me sleeve.’ She winked and went back to her guard duty.

  The Thomases set off for Stanley Terrace.

  ‘You can see this used to be a miners’ town, can’t you?’ remarked Douglas. ‘Rows and rows of back-to-backs. It is a unique landscape to Britain and completely different from the south, eh?’

  Sally was feeling a little apprehensive. These houses were so tiny. They could only be two up two down, and the thought of sharing with complete strangers was daunting.

  They found number 2 and knocked on the front door.

  A dog barked, and a second later the door opened and a short bald man stood filling the narrow doorway.

  ‘Aye?’ was all he said.

  ‘Oh hi, I am Sally Thomas. I believe Gladys at the theatre called you about me coming to look at a room here? I hope this is not an inconvenient time or anything. I mean, we can come back later if . . . ’ Sally was rapidly running out of steam as she met the relentless grimace of the man, and now behind him a huge Alsatian dog was panting eagerly. Sally was not awfully sure if it was panting with delight or hunger!

  ‘Oh, right. Aye, the wife said. She deals with all that. Come in, luv. Get back, Fred, out the road. Nora, come here.’ He stood back to let Sally in, and she tentatively squeezed between the doorjamb, and Fred’s dribbling jaws, into the front parlour. Dora followed with no qualms at all, and Douglas was left on the doorstep neither in nor out.

  ‘How do you do. I am Douglas Thomas – Sally is my daughter.’ Douglas held out his hand and the bald-headed man looked confused.

  ‘Eh, we don’t stand on ceremony here. Come in and sit thissen down. I am Arthur Blacklock. Fred – out to the back wi’ thee.’ He shoved the drooling dog through the parlour and out of a door on the other side of the room. Douglas inched his way into the room and joined his daughters on the hearthrug. They could just about all fit in the room. There was an open fire made up ready to go, and two huge chairs either side covered in an array of antimacassars. In the far corner under a 1950s standard lamp was a folding table with two chairs and a bowl of plastic flowers on top. The door leading to the kitchen was shut to keep Fred out, so it was very dark in the room, and the three of them could hardly make out Nora as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs to greet them.

  ‘Goodness, what a crowd! We have not seen the like of so many people in here since me mam’s wake.’ She laughed. ‘I shall put the kettle on and we can have a chat. Which one of you is the young lady who wants the room?’

  ‘Oh, that’s me,’ said Sally, holding out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Blacklock. This is my father Douglas Thomas, and this is my sister Dora. I am sorry, we didn’t mean to invade you like this on a Sunday morning, but I am very keen to find somewhere to stay before the season starts.’

  ‘No worries at all. Why don’t you sit down where you can and I will get some tea. Arthur, where have you got to? Get the kettle on, will you?’ She opened the door to the kitchen and Sally could see through to a back yard, where Arthur was sitting with Fred smoking a cigarette.

  ‘Oh, you are useless! Stay out the road then and let me get on with it.’ Nora went to the sink and filled a kettle. There was an old-fashioned range affair for the cooker, red tiles on the floor and a fine example of a Victorian kitchen sink. Sally felt as if she was in a chapter of a D.H. Lawrence novel. Any minute now, a swarthy miner would appear and start to wash himself at the window. She should be so lucky! Thinking about baths though, where the hell was the bathroom here? And indeed, was there even one?

  ‘Um, Mrs Blacklock, before you go to all the trouble of making tea, would you like to show me the room? I don’t have much time today as my father has to get back to Cheltenham, so if we could see the room that would be great,’ she said politely.

  ‘Oh yes, of course, my dear. How stupid of me. Well, follow me then. It is not much, I grant you, but it is clean, and I am happy to cook you an evening meal as well as breakfast.’ The kindly woman made her way back to the stairs and up they went to a tiny landing, off which were three doors.

  Mrs Blacklock threw open the far door with a flourish to reveal what could only be described as a large cupboard. There was the tiniest of windows, letting in a glimmer of hope for the inhabitant who would be sat literally under the window-ledge on the single bed pushed up against the wall. On the other side there was just room to squeeze between a pine wardrobe with no handle, and a bedside table only big enough to hold a single lamp. Sally’s heart sank. It was everything she had dreaded and more.

  ‘Is there a bathroom?’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh yes, though we would have to organize when you had a bath because of the water-heater. Would twice a week suit, do you think?’ The lady of the house was now standing in the middle of a piece of cracked lino beside a free-standing tin bath wedged against a basin, barely clinging to the brackets that held it to the wall. ‘The toilet is downstairs in the back yard. We keep meaning to get round to doing something about bringing it in, but it is what we are used to really.’

  Sally caught Dora’s eye and had to cough to cover her near-outburst of the giggles. Could this be real?

  ‘Um, right. Well, thank you very much, Mrs Blacklock, for showing me round. I think the best thing is for me and my family to go away and have a think, and we will get back to you this afternoon. Is that OK?’

  ‘Yes, if you like, love.’ Nora did not seemed bothered one way or the other. Dora was already out of the door, and Douglas was steering his eldest eagerly towards the light.

  ‘Come along, Sally, we must get on,’ he was waffling. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Blacklock, regards to Mr Blacklock.’

  As the door of number 2 closed behind them, the three of them were almost bent double with laughter, trying to put as much distance as possible between them and the house of horrors.

  ‘Oh dear, I cannot believe what I have just witnessed,’ groaned Douglas. ‘What in hell’s teeth was that all about, Sally? Are you seriously telling me that you actors live in these places?’

  Sally and Dora were holding onto each other for support. In fact, their hysterical laughter was very nearly tears as far as Sally was concerned. Was this going to be her fate?

  ‘Oh Dad, please don’t! I don’t know, do I? What on earth am I going to do?’

  Chapter 6

  The trio found Gladys back in the alleyway, now ensconced in her chair outside. The morning had blossomed into a perfect summer’s day, with a clear blue sky and a slight breeze gently moving the August heat across the rooftops. Gladys had her skirt rolled up and was exposing quite a large amount of very white leg to the sun’s rays, while negotiating a bottle of stout in one hand and a folded Sunday People on her lap. A small table stood to one side on which was a large plate of pie and chips.

  ‘Back again, luvs? How was it then?’ she asked.

  ‘Not really big enough, I am afraid,’ replied Sally. ‘They were very nice and everything, but I wouldn’t have felt comfortable sharing their home at such close quarters.’

  ‘I understand, dearie. Those terraces can be really poky, I know. Not like down south, is it?’ she added. ‘When I first come up here I couldn’t get me head round it either. It was like being in Coronation Street. I’m from Dagenham, see? Cars to coal. Met my old man on a day trip to Blackpool and ended up here. Anyway, enough about me, you’ll be needing another plan.’

  ‘We don’t want to ruin your Sunday morning completely,’ said Douglas, ‘but if you have any other suggestions we would be very grateful.’ The three of them stood in front of Gladys expectantly. She hauled herself out of the chair and waddled in through the stage door, returning almost immediately with a number on a piece of paper.

  ‘Here you go. Ring this number and see if they can help. You know Susan, Mr Longfellow’s PA?’ Sally nodded her head in acknowledgement. ‘Well, her niece Janie is coming to work at the theatre this season front of house, because her boyfriend is an
actor, and he has got a job in the company. Can’t remember his name but he seems like a nice enough lad. So anyway, Susan has got them a little house up the hill behind here. I believe it has two bedrooms, and she did say to me that they would have to rent out the other room to help with the rent. If you ring this number, it is the niece’s home and you could have a word. She doesn’t live in Crewe but I know they are coming down next week to move stuff in ready to start at the beginning of September. Go in and use the theatre phone now – see if you get any joy. I will eat me pie, if you don’t mind, duck, before it gets cold.’

  She sat down again and lifted the plate off the side table and proceeded to devour the contents.

  ‘Oh yes, please, do carry on. Thank you so much.’ Sally turned to the others. ‘Shall we go and find somewhere to sit and have a drink or something and ring this number?’

  ‘Well, you might as well do that here first, as the phone is right there,’ Dora reminded her. ‘Come on, give me the piece of paper.’ She took it from her sister and disappeared into the gloom.

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ Douglas said. ‘Go on, dear.’

  Dora had already dialled the number as Sally joined her. ‘Give it to me,’ said Sally, leaning across and grabbing the phone.

  ‘Patience!’ admonished Dora, annoyingly.

  Before they could start bickering, a voice at the other end of the line answered, ‘Hello? Nantwich 7451.’

  ‘Oh hi, sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning but I have been given your number by Gladys, at the stage door of the theatre in Crewe. Are you Susan’s niece, Janie, by any chance? I am so sorry – you must think me very rude.’ Sally was trying to squeeze closer to the telephone while Dora was enjoying being obstructive. A small shove and Sally gained the advantage, leaving Dora no option but to get out of the way. She disguised her defeat by pretending to show enormous interest in the faded black and white photos pinned all over the back wall of the cubicle.

  ‘No, not at all, that is fine. Yes, I am Janie Bell, Susan’s niece. How may I help you, Miss . . . ?’