eventually.’
‘Well, until we close I’ll be treading on eggshells. I do try not to upset her – she takes it out on everybody if she’s in a bad mood – even poor old Steve.’
‘But Mr Forbes is the director. He’s supposed to keep her in line isn’t he?’
Sarah gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t think
anybody
could keep Lucia in line. She’s too used to having her own way. Besides, she only has to bat her eyelashes and murmur something in that husky voice and everyone falls at her feet.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t worry about her – from what I can see everyone’s falling at
your
feet now.’
Sarah just smiled but as she got ready for bed she was a little worried. She didn’t want to make an enemy of Lucia. Her star might be waning, but she still had many influential friends in the business. Maybe she should try to be a little more sensitive to Lucia’s feelings. It wouldn’t hurt to butter her up a bit, maybe ask her advice – even though she didn’t need it. Steve Forbes was more than happy with her performance.
As she snuggled down under the blankets she smiled at the thought of Steve and a little tremor of excitement ran through her as she recalled the way he’d looked at her that evening. Of course, he was old. She had noticed the little flecks of grey at his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes. But they only made him look more handsome – distinguished was the word. She compared him with the stagehand, Julian, who had made no secret of his admiration. But he was just a boy – how he irritated her with his stammer, and the way he went red every time she so much as glanced in his direction. Steve was a real man, one who knew all the famous singers and actresses. If he was interested in her, she must be really special, she thought as she hugged her pillow and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what it would be like to be kissed by him.
Louise enjoyed working in the theatre. Although being a dogsbody entailed all sorts of jobs, no two days were ever the same. One day she might be painting over the cracks that had appeared in the flat that depicted the Marchs’ sitting room. Another day she would be helping the wardrobe mistress, pressing the voluminous dresses before the show. The dressing rooms were tiny and cramped – apart from Miss Lane’s of course – and there was nowhere to hang the gowns between changes, so that they were constantly creased.
It was a small company and the backstage people all worked together, swapping jobs and pulling together to make the show a success. Louise hadn’t realized how much work went on behind the scenes, even while the show was running.
Best of all she liked it when Steve or Phil Baxter, the stage manager, sent her on errands. She loved wandering around the narrow streets off the Strand and Charing Cross Road, the big red buses, the noise, the pigeons – it was all a world away from sleepy Holton Regis. Still, she had to admit she missed the sea and was looking forward to going home at the weekend. The theatre was closed on Sundays, of course, and there was no performance on Mondays so she had persuaded Sarah that, after several months away from home, they ought to pay a visit to their parents.
Sarah didn’t want to go home. Whenever Louise suggested it, she always managed to find some excuse not to go. That part of her life was over now, she told herself. The company was her family now. Besides, after a week of performances she looked forward to a lazy lie-in on Sundays, reading the papers and theatrical magazines and pampering herself with a long bath and beauty treatment. Later she would go for a walk in the park, then join her fellow performers for a late supper. Mondays were for shopping. If Louise wanted to go back to Holton for a couple of days that weekend she was welcome to do so. But Sarah definitely wouldn’t be joining her.
When Louise failed to persuade her, she said she would stay too. ‘I can’t leave you in London
‘Well, until we close I’ll be treading on eggshells. I do try not to upset her – she takes it out on everybody if she’s in a bad mood – even poor old Steve.’
‘But Mr Forbes is the director. He’s supposed to keep her in line isn’t he?’
Sarah gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t think
anybody
could keep Lucia in line. She’s too used to having her own way. Besides, she only has to bat her eyelashes and murmur something in that husky voice and everyone falls at her feet.’
‘Well, I shouldn’t worry about her – from what I can see everyone’s falling at
your
feet now.’
Sarah just smiled but as she got ready for bed she was a little worried. She didn’t want to make an enemy of Lucia. Her star might be waning, but she still had many influential friends in the business. Maybe she should try to be a little more sensitive to Lucia’s feelings. It wouldn’t hurt to butter her up a bit, maybe ask her advice – even though she didn’t need it. Steve Forbes was more than happy with her performance.
As she snuggled down under the blankets she smiled at the thought of Steve and a little tremor of excitement ran through her as she recalled the way he’d looked at her that evening. Of course, he was old. She had noticed the little flecks of grey at his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes. But they only made him look more handsome – distinguished was the word. She compared him with the stagehand, Julian, who had made no secret of his admiration. But he was just a boy – how he irritated her with his stammer, and the way he went red every time she so much as glanced in his direction. Steve was a real man, one who knew all the famous singers and actresses. If he was interested in her, she must be really special, she thought as she hugged her pillow and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of what it would be like to be kissed by him.
Louise enjoyed working in the theatre. Although being a dogsbody entailed all sorts of jobs, no two days were ever the same. One day she might be painting over the cracks that had appeared in the flat that depicted the Marchs’ sitting room. Another day she would be helping the wardrobe mistress, pressing the voluminous dresses before the show. The dressing rooms were tiny and cramped – apart from Miss Lane’s of course – and there was nowhere to hang the gowns between changes, so that they were constantly creased.
It was a small company and the backstage people all worked together, swapping jobs and pulling together to make the show a success. Louise hadn’t realized how much work went on behind the scenes, even while the show was running.
Best of all she liked it when Steve or Phil Baxter, the stage manager, sent her on errands. She loved wandering around the narrow streets off the Strand and Charing Cross Road, the big red buses, the noise, the pigeons – it was all a world away from sleepy Holton Regis. Still, she had to admit she missed the sea and was looking forward to going home at the weekend. The theatre was closed on Sundays, of course, and there was no performance on Mondays so she had persuaded Sarah that, after several months away from home, they ought to pay a visit to their parents.
Sarah didn’t want to go home. Whenever Louise suggested it, she always managed to find some excuse not to go. That part of her life was over now, she told herself. The company was her family now. Besides, after a week of performances she looked forward to a lazy lie-in on Sundays, reading the papers and theatrical magazines and pampering herself with a long bath and beauty treatment. Later she would go for a walk in the park, then join her fellow performers for a late supper. Mondays were for shopping. If Louise wanted to go back to Holton for a couple of days that weekend she was welcome to do so. But Sarah definitely wouldn’t be joining her.
When Louise failed to persuade her, she said she would stay too. ‘I can’t leave you in London
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