alone? I will see you later in the studio.”
Suddenly his hands shot out and grasped both mine. “Clara, you must take care. Promise me you will take care?”
I tried to pull away, but he held my hands very tightly. “Let go!” I protested.
He did not loosen his grip. Understanding that he wouldn’t do so until I answered him, I sighed and spoke patiently, as if to a child. “Look, Aidan. What could I need to ‘take care’ about? Nothing the slightest” – what was that word David had used about Aidan’s behaviour? – “untoward has happened.”
“Very well.” Dropping my hands, he took hold of a pen I had left on the dressing table and fumbled under Comte de Montfort’s embroidered jacket until he found a small piece of paper. He smoothed it out; it was a cigarette paper. “Please, Clara, take this.”
I waited, irritated, while he wrote something on the paper. “And be aware, too,” he went on, “that some people care about you a great deal and will be there if you ever need their help. Do not disregard them.” He looked at me sadly, holding out the cigarette paper. “And do not disregard yourself.”
T hat night I dreamt I was in Haverth. But a dream-village had been substituted for the Haverth I knew. The church and the school and the pub were in their usual places, but surrounding them were hordes of people. They were silent, as people in dreams often are, but it was clear they were angry. My gaze travelled over the crowd like a camera. Many people looked back at me; some turned their heads away. Each of them – hundreds and hundreds – carried an unmistakable air of disapproval.
I was standing on the steps of the school, where Mr Reynolds always stood when he rang the bell in the mornings. Haverth School’s register was a formality; the headmaster made a point of greeting every child by name as they entered and bidding them goodbye at the end of the day. But in my dream there were no schoolchildren, just this hostile crowd pressing towards me from all sides. And, I realized in horror, I was standing there in my petticoat. I tried to cover my body with my hands, but other hands came from nowhere and tore mine away, determinedly exposing me.
Everyone was staring. They began to point and whisper and jeer, and although they were as silent as if they were in a film, I knew what they were saying.
Act-ress, act-ress, act-ress
, they chanted.
Furs
and
pearls
and
champagne
! One woman, a stranger like the others, put her face close to mine and whispered,
Do you think you are impressing us, Clara Hope? You’re just a country girl, as ignorant as a cow in your da’s field, and we all know it!
I clutched the sheet around me. Light was flooding my bedroom; I surfaced from the depths of sleep. I lay there with my eyes still closed, confused and uncomfortably hot, and with a pain I can only describe as heartache in my breast.
I opened my eyes and stretched my stiff limbs. The hotel room was as I had left it the night before – thickly carpeted, with a high ceiling and tall windows, as unlike any house within twenty miles of Haverth as it was possible to be. Sighing, I pushed back the covers. The people in my dream had frightened me. But however much my heart ached for all that was familiar, I had come too far to retreat. The cinema audience, who would pay for their ticket and expect to be entertained, were the ones who would pass judgement upon me.
“M arjorie!” exclaimed David. “My dear, how
delicious
to see you! How was New York?”
“Oh … you know – American,” said the woman Jeanette had just ushered into the studio. She was young, very slim, very well groomed and very expensively dressed. Her hair was the shiniest blonde I had ever seen – unnaturally so, like a gold skull cap – and her face was as delicately painted as a doll’s. “And hot, so hot!” She sat down in David’s director’s chair and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I am not interrupting anything
vital
,
Suddenly his hands shot out and grasped both mine. “Clara, you must take care. Promise me you will take care?”
I tried to pull away, but he held my hands very tightly. “Let go!” I protested.
He did not loosen his grip. Understanding that he wouldn’t do so until I answered him, I sighed and spoke patiently, as if to a child. “Look, Aidan. What could I need to ‘take care’ about? Nothing the slightest” – what was that word David had used about Aidan’s behaviour? – “untoward has happened.”
“Very well.” Dropping my hands, he took hold of a pen I had left on the dressing table and fumbled under Comte de Montfort’s embroidered jacket until he found a small piece of paper. He smoothed it out; it was a cigarette paper. “Please, Clara, take this.”
I waited, irritated, while he wrote something on the paper. “And be aware, too,” he went on, “that some people care about you a great deal and will be there if you ever need their help. Do not disregard them.” He looked at me sadly, holding out the cigarette paper. “And do not disregard yourself.”
T hat night I dreamt I was in Haverth. But a dream-village had been substituted for the Haverth I knew. The church and the school and the pub were in their usual places, but surrounding them were hordes of people. They were silent, as people in dreams often are, but it was clear they were angry. My gaze travelled over the crowd like a camera. Many people looked back at me; some turned their heads away. Each of them – hundreds and hundreds – carried an unmistakable air of disapproval.
I was standing on the steps of the school, where Mr Reynolds always stood when he rang the bell in the mornings. Haverth School’s register was a formality; the headmaster made a point of greeting every child by name as they entered and bidding them goodbye at the end of the day. But in my dream there were no schoolchildren, just this hostile crowd pressing towards me from all sides. And, I realized in horror, I was standing there in my petticoat. I tried to cover my body with my hands, but other hands came from nowhere and tore mine away, determinedly exposing me.
Everyone was staring. They began to point and whisper and jeer, and although they were as silent as if they were in a film, I knew what they were saying.
Act-ress, act-ress, act-ress
, they chanted.
Furs
and
pearls
and
champagne
! One woman, a stranger like the others, put her face close to mine and whispered,
Do you think you are impressing us, Clara Hope? You’re just a country girl, as ignorant as a cow in your da’s field, and we all know it!
I clutched the sheet around me. Light was flooding my bedroom; I surfaced from the depths of sleep. I lay there with my eyes still closed, confused and uncomfortably hot, and with a pain I can only describe as heartache in my breast.
I opened my eyes and stretched my stiff limbs. The hotel room was as I had left it the night before – thickly carpeted, with a high ceiling and tall windows, as unlike any house within twenty miles of Haverth as it was possible to be. Sighing, I pushed back the covers. The people in my dream had frightened me. But however much my heart ached for all that was familiar, I had come too far to retreat. The cinema audience, who would pay for their ticket and expect to be entertained, were the ones who would pass judgement upon me.
“M arjorie!” exclaimed David. “My dear, how
delicious
to see you! How was New York?”
“Oh … you know – American,” said the woman Jeanette had just ushered into the studio. She was young, very slim, very well groomed and very expensively dressed. Her hair was the shiniest blonde I had ever seen – unnaturally so, like a gold skull cap – and her face was as delicately painted as a doll’s. “And hot, so hot!” She sat down in David’s director’s chair and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I am not interrupting anything
vital
,
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