‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘I want to stay in the area if possible.’
‘You might be doubly lucky then.’ He smiled. ‘They might want someone they know will stay.’
Delia was surprised to hear that. ‘I’ve always worked with a contract,’ she said. ‘I’ve never ever broken one. It’s too risky, and word gets around.’
‘I agree.’ He looked pointedly in the direction of their travelling companion. ‘But not everyone is so committed.’
Delia dropped her voice to a murmur. ‘So which theatre are we heading for?’ She saw his raised eyebrows and added hastily, ‘It’s over ten years since I was here and there have been many changes, including the fire that destroyed the theatre I’d appeared in. It looks to me,’ she nodded towards the window of the cab, ‘that we might be heading towards Paragon Street.’
‘We are,’ he said. ‘It’s the newest Theatre Royal and it’s been built on part of the old Queen’s Theatre. Do you remember it? And,’ he said as the cab slowed, ‘we’re already here! Hardly worth getting a cab, you might think, but it saves a few minutes when carrying luggage. I’ve played here many times since it opened and I can assure you that it is fire-proofed to a high degree and is a lovely theatre. It holds fifteen hundred.’
‘Goodness,’ she said. ‘And do they fill it?’
‘Not always, but they will at this time of year.’ He gazed at her curiously. ‘Where do you usually appear?’
‘London and the south coast,’ she said, and was gratified when she saw he was impressed. ‘But I need to stay in the north for a while to sort out … erm, family commitments.’
The cab drew to a halt and Delia got out and looked up. Her travelling companion was right; the theatre was very impressive. She turned to tell him so and saw him paying the driver. She fumbled for her purse and hoped she had enough to pay her share, but he waved away her contribution and thanked her for offering, ‘unlike the other young lady, who didn’t give it a single thought,’ he said, as they watched the dancer saunter towards her troupe of two waiting outside the theatre.
‘She’s young and immature,’ Delia excused her. ‘She’ll learn.’
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘You’re still young, and on our brief acquaintance I couldn’t imagine you were ever like that.’
‘We all have regrets about what we did in our youth,’ she countered. ‘Even the most sensible amongst us.’
He smiled and Delia thought he was rather handsome when he did so, the smile lightening his blue eyes and rather thoughtful expression. ‘Don’t you have any more luggage?’ he asked as they walked to the door.
‘It’s in the left luggage office at the train station,’ she explained. ‘I didn’t know if I’d get a booking so didn’t want to haul it round all the theatres with me. It wouldn’t have looked good.’
In the foyer waiting for them was the manager of the theatre and a woman who Delia thought might be the wardrobe mistress, and as they were amongst the first in, and some of the other performers were still chattering outside, catching up with gossip and greeting other artistes, Delia made a beeline for the manager.
‘My name is Delia Delamour,’ she told him, handing him her carte de visite, a postcard with a coloured photograph of herself in stage costume on one side and on the other a list of places where she had performed. ‘I’ve been travelling to visit my family since my last Brighton performance, and called on the off chance that you might be able to accommodate me in a role?’
She gave him the name of her agent, who could give him all her references, and said that for family reasons she needed to be in the north of England rather than London or the south coast, where she usually performed.
‘I’ve heard of you, Miss Delamour,’ the manager, Dennis Rogers, said, to her delight. ‘I worked in the south for a few years, and briefly at Bradshaw’s when I was a junior manager.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘Would you care to wait in my office until I have seen these other performers? The rest will turn up tomorrow, I hope. We’re opening on Monday night.’
He opened a glass-panelled door behind the ticket office and invited her to be seated. Giles Dawson was in the foyer chatting to another man, who was also carrying a violin case. He saw her looking out and nodded, mouthing Good luck. Which I desperately need, she thought, and she sat back and closed her eyes for a moment.
She was tired, and hungry too; she hadn’t eaten since she’d finished off the leftover beef sandwich at the Sun Inn, and that was hours ago. If I don’t get this engagement I don’t know what I’ll do. She felt distressed over her situation, but it was a small comfort to think that she had done the right thing and that her son would be safe for a short while with the Robinsons. Even if we had stayed in the south, she thought, I didn’t have an engagement to tide us over. The theatrical profession is so precarious. There’s no stability at all, unless you’re at the top of the tree.
Her meandering thoughts turned to Arthur Crawshaw and she wondered how he managed to survive; he doesn’t have regular work, she pondered, which leads me to think that he might have another income. He’s always well dressed, and his boots and shoes are of good leather; he doesn’t speak much about his family, just that they are country people and that he has a younger brother who works in an office in London.
The door opened and Mr Rogers rushed in and sat down behind his desk. ‘I’m so sorry to keep you, Miss Delamour. There’s always a problem to resolve in this business,’ he said, echoing her thoughts. ‘But I’m happy to say I am in a position to engage you, but only on condition that
