Helen Dickson - Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant

‘Yes—I—I find myself in difficult circumstances.’

‘You do?’ The eyes he turned on her were piercing. ‘How difficult?’

‘In the light of my new position I—I wondered if you could see your way to letting me have an advance on my future earnings. I—I wouldn’t ask, but—I am quite desperate.’

He stepped back, his expression irate. ‘No, Miss Lane, I think not. In fact, the reason I am glad you came is so that I can tell you I have hired someone else to replace you.’

With a sinking heart, Lucy stared at him, unable to believe he could do this. She could feel two spots of colour burning on her cheeks. ‘But—the part was mine. You said I was perfect to play Portia.’

‘And so you are—I mean you were. I have always admired your skill in the past, but I’m sorry, Miss Lane, I’ve changed my mind. You are always late. I cannot spare the time to wait on your convenience. I have a theatre to run, a play to get out and yet you persist on being late, which makes me think the role is too much for you.’

‘I am sorry, Mr Portas, truly. I’ve had other things on my mind of late—’

‘Whatever they are they do not concern me,’ he retorted, seemingly unmoved by her plight. ‘My priority is the production. But don’t be too downhearted. You’ll have other offers from other managers. You got good reviews from your last performance. You certainly don’t need me.’

‘No, I’m sure I don’t,’ she said, aware that others had stopped to listen. ‘I got along quite nicely for a number of years without you.’

‘There you are then,’ he said, wiping his hands on his trousers and looking about him in an agitated way. ‘I wish you luck. Now I must get on. Things to do.’

‘Yes, of course. I won’t keep you.’ She halted and half turned. ‘Do you mind telling me who is to play Portia?’

‘Coral Gibbons. She is ideal for the part. I should have seen it sooner.’

She could only stare at him, all her dreams of the future suddenly dissolving around her. At length, she said, ‘Yes, yes, she is. I see. Thank you for your time, Mr Portas. And now if you will excuse me, I am needed elsewhere.’

Lucy had to be alone. She felt suddenly numb with misery, disappointment and a growing anger. She had not realised until then how very much she had depended on playing Portia. If her replacement had been an inconsequential supporting player going on thirty-five and losing her looks, she wouldn’t be so angry.

But Coral! Her closest friend! She was lovely, a perfect replacement, and Lucy had no doubt she would be a resounding success.

With the witnesses to her downfall slinking into the shadows, Lucy swept towards the exit with her head high, only to come face to face with Coral as she was about to leave by the stage door.

For one vivid instant the air between them shivered with tense friction.

‘Lucy—oh, Lucy...’

‘What have you done? Can you not see...?’

Lucy’s voice was lifeless. It was as though Coral had taken something precious from her, some secret treasure she had hoarded and which was now revealed, something which had given her life and a recognition of her own value.

But if Coral was disconcerted by Lucy’s abrupt manner, she hid it quickly under a mask of sympathy. ‘Lucy!’ she murmured, taking her friend’s hand and drawing her away from the curious gaze of a stagehand. ‘You have seen Mr Portas.’

‘Yes,’ Lucy replied, trying without success to hide her resentment for the full, rounded curves, the lovely blond hair falling about the small, fascinating face. ‘Just now. He—he told me that the part of Portia is no longer mine.’

‘I’m sorry, love. No one could have been more surprised than me when he offered me the part. I was tempted to tell him where to go—but I couldn’t, not really. Please don’t be angry with me, Lucy.’

Lucy sighed, shaking her head dejectedly. ‘I’m not angry with you, Coral. Getting angry accomplishes nothing. But I can’t pretend that I’m not disappointed.’

Coral shook her head as though in dismay at her own gullibility. ‘I can’t blame you. I would be livid had it happened to me.’

Coral said the words quietly, sincerely, and Lucy felt a tugging inside and knew she mustn’t give in to her disappointment and simmering anger against the unfairness of it all. She smiled. There was a new radiance about her friend, a glow to her creamy complexion and a sparkle in her vivid hazel eyes. Her abundant blond hair tumbling about her shoulders and glistening with gold highlights, she looked absolutely stunning in a gown of pale blue taffeta with narrow silver stripes. Never had Lucy envied another woman as much as she did Coral at that moment. But she was not bitter that her friend was to play Portia. If the part had to go to someone else, Lucy was glad it was her.

‘I wouldn’t have wanted you to turn it down, Coral. Of course you had to take it and I wish you every success. You are perfect for the part and it’s about time you had a major role to play.’ What Lucy said was true, for ever since Coral’s appearance in a minor role two years ago, she had been a favourite with the public, one of the most popular supporting players in the Portas Theatre.

‘Thank you for saying that. It’s more than I deserve from you. I would never hurt you deliberately, you know that. I value our friendship too much. What will you do now?’

Lucy shrugged. ‘I’ll look around. Trail the theatres. Someone might take me on.’

‘I do hope so. What happened, Lucy?’ Coral asked, upset and deeply concerned for her friend. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand what went wrong.’

‘I don’t know, Coral. I’ve been so busy trying to make ends meet. Aunt Dora hasn’t been well of late—I’m going to have to move out of my home and go to live with her. At least it will lessen the cost.’

‘Have you seen Jack?’

Lucy shook her head, suddenly realising she hadn’t seen him since the night of the party. Perhaps Nathan’s arrival had something to do with it. ‘I’m sure he’s busy—and he knows I have rehearsals—had rehearsals,’ she corrected herself. She smiled bitterly. ‘I think he’s finally given up on me. Goodbye, Coral. I must go.’

Coral caught her to her. They hugged tightly, emotionally. ‘Goodbye, Lucy. Take care,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll come and see you soon.’

‘Yes—yes, please do.’

* * *

Determined to find work, Lucy had gone from one theatre to another. Unfortunately none of them needed actresses at present, not even with her credentials. Angry and resentful, she had kept on looking, but it was the same at every one. Frustrated and defeated, she had turned for home.

Once inside her room she turned the key in the lock and leaned her head against the hard wood of the door frame. Not even Polly was allowed to witness the collapse of her brave façade as all her courage drained away and she sank to her knees and wept.

* * *

When Lucy called on Aunt Dora at her house in Bayswater, a basket of fruit over her arm, she found she wasn’t her only visitor that day. Nathan was standing on the doorstep, waiting to be admitted, slapping his leather gloves against his muscular thigh. His broad shoulders were squared, his jaw set in implacable determination, and even in this restrained pose he seemed to emanate the restrained power she had always sensed in him. He was looking every inch the handsome, elegant gentleman today, with his blue superfine coat and darker blue trousers, his striped blue-and-gold waistcoat and his immaculate white linen.

‘Well, well!’ she exclaimed drily, trying not to show her surprise on seeing him as her heart quickened its beat. ‘You are persistent if nothing else.’