they were both in the theatre and appearing in the same show. You may wonder why Lana did not leave something to Moira. Well, it seems that over the years she showered her with gifts – including a beautiful Royal Albert tea set that is just like yours. She told her that, as there was no knowing which of them would take the final curtain call first, she wanted her to enjoy nice things while they were both alive.
So here I am at Brook Lodge doing nothing but panic. Miss Davies has suggested that it would be better for me to move into the house, and she has offered to sort this out with the landlady. She doesn’t think that will be a problem. The guest house is clean and comfortable, but the food is uninspiring. I suppose I have been spoiled by my mother’s cooking.
As far as I can see, there is only one other guest here at the moment. A girl of about my own age, called Shirley Walton. Tonight she suggested we should share a table for our evening meal, and while we were eating she told me that she has just come up to London to take up a job as a secretary at the BBC. She’s staying here at the guest house because her mother is an old friend of Mrs Price, who, it turns out, is the owner of Brook Lodge. Shirley doesn’t intend to stay here. Mrs Price is very kind to her and doesn’t charge her the full amount, but even so she can’t really afford it and would rather rent a room somewhere.
I think I found out most of this during the first course (brown Windsor soup), and by the end of the second course (boiled leg of mutton with carrots and potatoes), she had told me about her family, her schooldays at the local grammar school, and her broken romance. This was one of the reasons she had decided to apply for a job in London. She is not at all boastful, but I think she must be very clever.
For dessert we had steamed currant pudding and custard. Thankfully Shirley seemed to have run out of steam. Is there a joke there somewhere? After coffee, Shirley wanted us to go to the pictures but I was too tired. She was disappointed and that made me feel guilty, but if I had gone to the cinema I would probably have fallen asleep. Shirley is so excited about starting a new life in London, whereas I have come here to sort things out and then I will be going home again.
So my new friend has gone to the pictures by herself and here I am in the residents’ lounge sitting as close as I can get to a lacklustre fire and writing to you on notepaper supplied by Brook Lodge. How strange life is. I was expecting to feel homesick and yet I am not. Instead I feel as though I am in limbo. But now I must go to bed and try to sleep, for, as Scarlett O’Hara would say, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’
Yours sincerely,
Kay
25th October 1949
Dear Mum,
Thank you for your letter. I will be leaving Brook Lodge on Monday, the last day of the month, and moving into the house where Lana Fontaine lived. Miss Davies arranged this for me. The landlady could not really complain, as the rent is paid until the end of the year. She did, however, ask for an extra four pounds a month to cover the inconvenience. I have no idea how my moving in would inconvenience her, but Moira said it would be better to keep her happy.
Until then, for the next few days, I shall continue to go each day and carry on sorting through drawers and cupboards. I feel like a thief, although so far I have not found anything of great value. My friend Miss Bennet – she was my form teacher in my last year at school, remember? – thought there might be some valuable jewellery. She remembers seeing photographs of Lana in magazines where she absolutely ‘dripped with diamonds’.
Well, Lana might have had some good jewellery then, but there is nothing now. I have two theories to explain this. Maybe the jewellery did not belong to her; maybe it was lent by the film studios. (I know they did this sort of thing when they wanted their stars to look glamorous at special events.) Or perhaps
So here I am at Brook Lodge doing nothing but panic. Miss Davies has suggested that it would be better for me to move into the house, and she has offered to sort this out with the landlady. She doesn’t think that will be a problem. The guest house is clean and comfortable, but the food is uninspiring. I suppose I have been spoiled by my mother’s cooking.
As far as I can see, there is only one other guest here at the moment. A girl of about my own age, called Shirley Walton. Tonight she suggested we should share a table for our evening meal, and while we were eating she told me that she has just come up to London to take up a job as a secretary at the BBC. She’s staying here at the guest house because her mother is an old friend of Mrs Price, who, it turns out, is the owner of Brook Lodge. Shirley doesn’t intend to stay here. Mrs Price is very kind to her and doesn’t charge her the full amount, but even so she can’t really afford it and would rather rent a room somewhere.
I think I found out most of this during the first course (brown Windsor soup), and by the end of the second course (boiled leg of mutton with carrots and potatoes), she had told me about her family, her schooldays at the local grammar school, and her broken romance. This was one of the reasons she had decided to apply for a job in London. She is not at all boastful, but I think she must be very clever.
For dessert we had steamed currant pudding and custard. Thankfully Shirley seemed to have run out of steam. Is there a joke there somewhere? After coffee, Shirley wanted us to go to the pictures but I was too tired. She was disappointed and that made me feel guilty, but if I had gone to the cinema I would probably have fallen asleep. Shirley is so excited about starting a new life in London, whereas I have come here to sort things out and then I will be going home again.
So my new friend has gone to the pictures by herself and here I am in the residents’ lounge sitting as close as I can get to a lacklustre fire and writing to you on notepaper supplied by Brook Lodge. How strange life is. I was expecting to feel homesick and yet I am not. Instead I feel as though I am in limbo. But now I must go to bed and try to sleep, for, as Scarlett O’Hara would say, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’
Yours sincerely,
Kay
25th October 1949
Dear Mum,
Thank you for your letter. I will be leaving Brook Lodge on Monday, the last day of the month, and moving into the house where Lana Fontaine lived. Miss Davies arranged this for me. The landlady could not really complain, as the rent is paid until the end of the year. She did, however, ask for an extra four pounds a month to cover the inconvenience. I have no idea how my moving in would inconvenience her, but Moira said it would be better to keep her happy.
Until then, for the next few days, I shall continue to go each day and carry on sorting through drawers and cupboards. I feel like a thief, although so far I have not found anything of great value. My friend Miss Bennet – she was my form teacher in my last year at school, remember? – thought there might be some valuable jewellery. She remembers seeing photographs of Lana in magazines where she absolutely ‘dripped with diamonds’.
Well, Lana might have had some good jewellery then, but there is nothing now. I have two theories to explain this. Maybe the jewellery did not belong to her; maybe it was lent by the film studios. (I know they did this sort of thing when they wanted their stars to look glamorous at special events.) Or perhaps
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