Chapter Forty-Two

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

B y mid-morning the following day, Lassiter Court was quiet again. The awnings had been taken down, rolled up and put away; the plates and cake forks, glasses and errant spoons had been retrieved, washed, polished and returned to their proper cabinets and drawers. Lillian and Nikolai had left for a short tour of the Lakes, and Tom had gone to the factory. Meanwhile, Dixon and Jack returned to The Empire: Dixon to polish the lathe and check his microphones; Jack to supervise the arrival of the new show and make sure none of the circus performers had left any of their charges behind.

Stella had waved Nikolai and Lillian off, wearing a fur-trimmed silk dressing gown, then returned to bed for an hour or two. Grace took a book out into the garden and waited for her.

A little after eleven Stella emerged onto the terrace in her dark glasses, and a very daring pale green trouser suit that swung around her ankles.

‘Grace,’ she called out and waved, then walked swiftly along the path to Grace’s bench among the roses and lavender. ‘Darling, I am packed and ready to fly away, but Hewitt can’t find my car key. I locked it up when I arrived. Have you seen it at all? It’s on a little Tiffany key ring.’

Grace adjusted her posture slightly, feeling the key in question shift in her pocket.

‘Yes, I have. But I shan’t give it to you, Stella. Not until you have a proper conversation with me.’

Stella removed her glasses and slipped them into the pocket of her long silk top.

‘Grace, don’t be ridiculous. If you want me to apologise for not taking the stage at Christmas – very well, I am sorry. Though it turned out very well in the end. But give me the key.’ She put out her hand.

‘I said I wanted a conversation, not an apology, Stella. Mr and Mrs Cook, Tasha Kingsland’s parents, came to the theatre on Friday. They’d like to see you.’

Stella blinked rapidly.

‘That won’t be possible. Now stop being a little idiot and give me my key.’

She snapped her fingers and extended her palm again. Grace noticed her fingers were shaking a little.

‘No,’ Grace replied, lifting her chin. ‘Not until you explain to me exactly what happened, and why you’ve left the stage. And don’t tell me it’s the press, because they haven’t written a word about you in months. Your agent has rung me twice telling me about the offers you’ve received, but says you haven’t responded to any of her telegrams or phone messages.’

‘It’s none of your business,’ she snapped. ‘Now give me the key!’

‘You came here. You made it my business, Stella. Now tell me the truth.’

Stella made a grab for Grace’s wrist and she recoiled in shock and surprise, confounded by the sudden violence of it. ‘Stella, get off!’

‘Just give it to me!’ Stella had a dancer’s strength, twisting Grace’s wrist fiercely and yanking it to one side with one hand, while making a dive for her pocket with the other.

‘Stella, stop it! Have you gone mad.’

‘Give me the bloody key, you silly cow!’

‘That hurts!’ Grace tried to pull away and stand up, but Stella pushed her back against the bench.

‘Stella, stop at once. I’m pregnant!’

Stella gasped and released her. ‘Grace! I . . .’ She took a step back and Grace turned away, rubbing her wrist. It was very red, and the pain was enough to bring tears to her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t have. Does anyone know?’

‘No, not yet. Not even Jack. I want to wait as long as possible to tell him, so don’t breathe a word.’

Stella swallowed, then straightened her back.

‘Of course I won’t. My congratulations . . . Now give me the key.’

‘No.’ Grace had meant to be calm, gracious, with her friend, but was ashamed to find her voice now came in a sort of childish wail. ‘No, I shan’t, Stella. You can’t make me. You’re my best friend. I’ve lost Ruby, and I’ve lost you, too,’ the words kept coming. ‘. . .because you won’t tell me the truth. And don’t you dare tell me you wanted to leave the stage, because the only time I’ve seen you happy since that girl died is when you were singing for that crowd at Ruby’s memorial. You’ve simply been playing at being Stella when we see you – terribly shocking and carefree, but I know the difference. So no, I won’t give you the bloody key.’

There was a moment of silence, then Stella sat down heavily on the bench next to Grace.

Grace was still rubbing her wrist. ‘You weren’t in love with her, and I know you aren’t slinging cocaine—’

‘No, I’m not.’ Stella’s voice was low, and seemed to be coming from a long way away.

‘A girl, Sally Blow, came to talk to Ruby just after you left.’ Grace pictured herself that day, every inch the modern woman of business, and now here she was on the bench feeling hurt and as small as a schoolgirl. ‘She so wanted to be at the theatre. She was already part of the family, and I think she was a little in love with Tom, but she blames her husband’s death on the Lassiters, and she said working at The Empire would be betraying him. And I believed that . . . I believed how thinking she was betraying him would poison everything. And I thought of you. Of how you’ve been.’

Stella was shivering, a quiver that came up through her bones and seemed to shake the air out of her lungs.

‘Stella, was it something like that? Stella, what did you do?’

The beautiful lower lip trembled, then Stella put her head in her hands, pulling her fingers though her platinum blonde hair, shaking so hard it seemed she would break apart while Grace watched.

‘You’re making me tell you?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Very well. But you won’t like it. We lost a girl in the chorus of my show – she left to get married. I told Tasha about it myself in the club. Anyway, she auditioned for the part. My producer was going to give it to her, but I told him not to.’

Grace’s hand fell into her lap. ‘Oh, Stella. Why?’

‘I don’t even know,’ Stella gasped. ‘It was just a moment. I was feeling old and tired and . . . You don’t know what it’s like, Grace, all these girls snapping at my heels. They are so eager and admiring, and so bloody young! You see the directors and the producers. They looked at her like they used to look at me! As if they were hungry. And Tasha wasn’t a great dancer, or a perfect singer, but she was so eager and alive and young. And just in that moment, I couldn’t quite bear it anymore. I made a face and said she was too green, and the producer said, “You’re the star, dear,” and hired someone else. And that was that! Such a small thing, Grace.’

Grace breathed in slowly.

‘And she was so disappointed!’ Stella went on. ‘She thought the audition had gone well, and it had. So when she found out, she came to see me – came to pour out her heart to me, because I was her friend! And I was so bright and encouraging, such a good pal, but of course it was me who’d done it to her. Then the next day she was dead. And now her parents want to see me. I can’t, I simply can’t . . .’

Grace turned towards her. ‘Stella, that was a terrible thing to do.’

‘I know! For Christ’s sake, I don’t need you to tell me that!’ Stella lifted her face to the sky. ‘I felt awful when she came to see me. Why do you think I haven’t been able to set foot on stage since? It’s all tainted. I’d rather die than go up there, have people look at me, tell me how wonderful I am, after doing that.’

‘I understand,’ Grace said, and she did. ‘You still have to see her parents.’

‘Grace . . .’ Stella turned towards her; the shaking had lessened, but Grace could still hear it in her voice as she inhaled. ‘I can’t possibly. It would kill me.’

‘For God’s sake, Stella. No, it wouldn’t, and yes, you can! It will be hard and humiliating, and they’ll probably curse your name forever, but there’s nothing physically preventing you from doing it. And you must!’

‘But I’ve given up the stage.’

‘And how has that helped anyone?’ Grace said. ‘It’s all very well for you to decide your own punishment. Leaving the stage – yes, very dramatic, but it’s not really up to you, is it? Stella, you’re coming with me to see her parents tomorrow, or I will never speak to you again. It’s as simple as that. And if you think for a second you’re getting your key back before then, you’re dreaming. I’ll lock you in your room if I have to.’

Stella was quiet for a long time. It seemed to radiate out of her, silencing the birds, the darting of the insects. ‘You can be very hard, Grace. I forget that about you.’

‘I contain multitudes,’ Grace said, a little sulkily, then put out her hand. Stella covered it with her own and the birdsong returned.