The False Inspector Dew

'Well, yes. It's worth considering, I feel.'

She smiled. 'Darling, I have reached the same conclusion. It's no use going on with this. It makes a mockery of my life in the theatre. It has a terrible effect on my nerves and my digestion. In the end it will undermine our marriage. You are absolutely right. I shall not attend another audition in the English theatre. I am going to America.'

Walter stopped eating. 'America?'

'You do sound surprised.'

'Are you serious, my dear?'

'Totally. I am going to offer my talent to the cinema.'

'Good Lord.'

'It is another area of production.' She was pleased by the effect of her announcement. Walter was white.

'It wasn't quite what I had in mind.'

'Think it over. The only films of any quality are being made in America. And it's obvious, isn't it, that the cinema is short of actresses of my experience. Look at Mary Pickford. What has she ever done in the theatre? The Gish sisters. Theda Bara. They are known to millions, Walter, and what do they know about the art of acting?'

'I rather think that acting in the theatre isn't quite the same thing. Bernhardt isn't much of a success in films.'

'Bernhardt is an old woman.'

'But film is such a different form of art, Lydia. There's no sound. Your voice expresses so much in the theatre. It would be such a loss.'

She had expected him to try to thwart her. He would not succeed, i shall make more use of gesture and expression. My mind is made up, Walter. You heard me on the telephone this evening. The house is going up for sale. I've already made enquiries about booking a passage. I want to leave as soon as possible.'

The tray shook as he put it aside. 'What about me? What about my practice?'

'Didn't I make it clear? I want you to come with me. We can sell the practice and start a new one in Hollywood. There must be plenty of cinema actors wanting their teeth improved. The cameras come in so close.'

He got up and stood by the window, looking out. He was clearly very shocked.

Lydia could sympathise. She had suffered shocks enough at auditions. Walter had led a sheltered life of late. He had settled into a comfortable routine. The life of a dentist might seem unutterably boring to most people, but Walter enjoyed it. He was making a success of it. He didn't have the income yet to justify the Eaton Square surgery, but there was the prospect of full financial independence in a year or so. Giving it up for America would be a sacrifice.

He was very transparent. He turned and said that he had read that life was dangerous in California. He described the violence between rival film companies. He talked of hired thugs, and shootings, and studios behind high fences, patrolled by armed guards with dogs.

Lydia was unperturbed. She said she was sure the companies looked after their leading players.

Walter got more earnest. He recalled the efforts he had made to build his practice. He said it would be madness to abandon his distinguished patients and his handsome surgery.

Lydia said that if it meant so much to him he had better stay behind and let her face the perils of California alone. Noticing a certain look in his eye, she added that he would have to manage without her money.

He switched the subject back to her career. He said he had a duty to point out that her reputation on the English stage was beyond dispute, but it was unlikely to have reached America.

Lydia smiled. 'My dear,' she murmured, 'I'm afraid you're misinformed. It's time that I confessed to you that I've been holding something back. It happens that I have an associate in Hollywood. His name is not unknown in the cinema. Mr Charlie Chaplin.'

'Chaplin? You know Charlie Chaplin?'

'From before the war, when he was with the Karno Troupe. Charlie and I were on the same bill at the Streatham Empire. That was when Papa was owner of the Empire, before I became a serious actress. I was in a song and dance group called the Yankee Doodle Girls and Charlie was the comic drunk in Mumming Birds. He must have been about eighteen, no more, and he had an eye for the girls. He used to watch us from the wings. He looked so funny standing there with eyes like saucers and that red nose and his white tie and tails that we used to giggle. One night I laughed so much, I slipped and hit the boards with an almighty bump. My friend Hetty Kelly winked at Charlie and he fell hopelessly in love with her. She was only fifteen and he proposed to her. Oh, yes, I knew Charlie very well. I've got a cutting in my book to prove it. Go and get it. I'll show you.'

Walter looked round for the wine. 'Would you like some more? He was very good in Shoulder Arms. I saw it up in Scotland. Did you ever see it?'

She put her hand over her glass. 'First, I would like to show you the notice in my book.'

He said, 'My father was in America, remember. That was when he had his accident. I wonder if he met Chaplin.'

'Walter, tell me what has happened to my book.'

He cleared his throat. 'I'm not entirely sure that I can. I collected it all right, but when I came in I didn't have it with me.'

'What do you mean — you've lost it?'

'Left it somewhere. In the taxi, I suppose. I'm fearfully sorry, my dear.'

She got up from her chair. She despised him. In a quiet voice she said, 'That book was the most precious thing I owned. No amount of money can replace it.'

She ran from the room. In the hall she picked up the roses he had bought and flung them on the floor. She ran upstairs to her room and locked the door. She collapsed on the bed and wept.

Later, she smoked a cigarette. She heard cook leave the house by the tradesman's gate. She heard Sylvia go up to her room in the attic.

There was a soft tapping on her door. Walter's voice said, 'Are you awake, Lydia?'

She did not answer. She had nothing to say to him.

She heard him turn the handle and find that the door was locked.

'Lydia, my dear, it's me.'

She said flatly, 'Go away.'

'I just remembered where I left the book. I saw the roses and remembered. It was in the florist's where I bought them. I put the book on the counter when I chose the colours. I had a taxi waiting outside and he was sounding his horn. In my hurry I left the book in the shop. I can get it back tomorrow. The shop is next to Richmond Station. Lydia, do you hear? I'll collect it in the morning.'

'No you won't.'

'What?'

'I wouldn't trust you again. I'll go myself, and it had better be there.'

'But the girl in the shop doesn't know you.'

'Idiot. The book is full of pictures of me.'

There was a pause. 'About the other thing,' he said. 'America, I mean. Let's talk again when we have both had a chance to think the matter over.'

'There's nothing to talk about. I've made my mind up. I'm going, Walter. You can do what you like.'

8

Poppy shared a flock mattress with her sister Rose — all the sisters were named after flowers — in the family's rooms above the dairy in Chicksand Street. Rose was seven. She liked to wake at first light and go downstairs to see the milkmen harnessing their horses to the carts. This was Poppy's opportunity to stretch her arms and legs and roll into the centre. She would sink into a deeper sleep, secure from Rose's lively knees and elbows. She usually slept until eleven, except on Sundays. She had no conscience about sleeping late. She kept the