What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? by Henry Farrell

toturn and fling herself back into the safety of the chair was all but overpowering.
    Quickly, banishing the thought from her mind, she forced herself to go on. Jane, she knew, might return at any moment, but that didn’t seem to matter now. She had to try, she
had
to.…

6
Exp. accompanist-arranger, male, to join est. star in act for clubs, TV. Piano, violin, req. HO 6-1784.
    J ane studied the corrected copy the girl had shoved across the counter to her. Then she looked back at the original she had composed herself:
WANTED: Gentleman accompanist to work with internationally renowned star of long standing in established act for top supper clubs and television programs. Must be of virtuoso caliber with piano and violin, also expert in music arrangement. For private appointment please call HO 6-1784.
    Jane frowned. Visualizing both versions as they would look in print, it seemed obvious to her that hers was the best. But the girl behind the counter had been so crisply certain about hers; she had written it all down so swiftly, like she really knew.
    “Well,” Jane mused, “I don’t know…”
    The thing was that hers was a lot classier, and that was what she wanted, something classy. It was only a certain kind of gentleman that she wanted to hear from.
    Within Jane’s mind the type of man she wished to reply to her ad was very clearly defined. He was slender and distinguished-looking, graying at the temples, slightly stooped, perhaps, andpossessed of a gentle, fatherly manner. Actually, he somewhat resembled Mr. Dahl, her accompanist when she was little. In spirit he was her father; he talked like her father. He would read the ad in the paper, and he would call her, and they would talk.…
    Her gaze went back to the corrected version.…
est. star
… The girl had said it was really the same thing as what she had said in her ad. But that wasn’t so at all. It was—well—businesslike, and that wasn’t the impression she wanted to give. She wasn’t absolutely sure yet whether she really meant to revive her old act or not; it just seemed that she ought to talk to someone about it.
    A lot of the old-timers were coming back into the business. You saw them on television all the time. Ed Wynn, Buster Keaton—lots and lots of them. And kid acts were always good. Fanny Brice made a fortune with Baby Snooks; she’d be going yet if she were still alive. With new arrangements to bring the songs up to date and a good accompanist… But she had told herself these things over and over again; now she needed to tell them to someone else, someone who would listen and understand and see it the same way she did.
    “… also,” the girl behind the counter was saying, “it’s a lot cheaper this way.”
    Jane looked up, and as she did, the cheap jeweled clip on her red velvet beret glittered with the false brightness of weary laughter.
    “Well…”
    Maybe she should have put her name in the ad after all.
Baby Jane Hudson.
She narrowed her eyes, seeing it in print as it once had been, and for a moment she felt a small thrill of excitement. Then, very suddenly, she opened her eyes again, and the girl behind the counter, for the first time, came fully into focus for her. A nice-looking girl, Jane thought randomly, a plain girl but nice-looking all the same. The poor little thing didn’t know how to use make-up properly. None of the young girls you saw around these days did. That was one thing about a theatrical background: you learned how to make yourself up so you at least looked alive.Girls didn’t wear any rouge any more. No wonder they all looked so sickly and washed out.
    “Of course we can print your copy,” the girl said, “if that’s the way you really want it…”
    Jane decided that the girl was very pleasant and that she liked her very much. To please her, she would do it her way. It was just possible that the girl was right; the replies would come from exactly the same people anyway; the object was to get in all the