They Touched Heaven Page 6

  After a while, the Director called a halt to the dance and disappeared off backstage. The girls began to chatter and rub their tired limbs, while one peeled an apple and ate it noisily.

  ‘So these are Les Jolies Mademoiselles!’ thought Temia, scrutinising the girls’ faces. They all seemed quite young and, apart from one or two who clearly wore make-up, well-scrubbed.

  Just then, a man came onstage and announced that they were taking a break. The girls filed off noisily, leaving Temia alone in the auditorium.

  As she sat there, an idea occurred to her. Rather than be a Governess, might she not offer her services as a scenery painter?

  With her heart in her mouth, she strode towards the stage and called up to the man from the stalls.

  “Excuse me, could you tell me who is in charge of this troupe? I would like to speak with him.”

  “It’s Mr. Leo Baker, you’ll be wantin’,” he said, picking up a broom and sweeping the stage. “If you ’urry, you’ll catch ’im through them doors on your right.”

  Not wishing to waste time, Temia hurried to the front and through the doors the man had indicated, where she found herself in another corridor at the end of which was an Office.

  She could hear Leo Baker’s booming voice through the frosted-glass door, so she knocked and waited.

  After a pause came a voice,

  Enter!”

  Temia gingerly opened the door and stepped inside.

  Leo Baker was talking with a young boy, who was balancing a pile of costumes in his arms.

  “Yes?” he asked. “Can I help you, madam?”

  “My name is Miss Morris,” she began, changing her name. “I – I wish to speak to you about your scenery.”

  “What about it? I know it’s not much, but with my overheads, we can’t afford new so we make do with what we’ve got!”

  “I was going to offer you my services as an artist.”

  “You? I didn’t think ladies did such things.”

  “I have experience in painting scenery and if you don’t believe me, let me make a new backdrop for that dance you were rehearsing – the Woodland Nymph.”

  Leo Baker continued to regard her closely. “It’s true we’ve had the same scenery for twenty years and this piece is meant to be the finale for our new show. I cannot deny that brand new scenery would greatly enhance the effect and bring in the customers.”

  “Let me try, please. All I would ask is for food and lodgings.”

  “So you’d do it for nothing? And all I have to do is put you up with the girls?”

  “Yes, although, if there were some other paid work available, I would be happy to consider it. I am able to sew and am a hard worker.”

  Leo Baker was a man very much disposed towards a bargain and here was one if ever he saw it.

  ‘Another runaway,’ he said to himself, ‘but this one appears to come from a good home.’

  “You’re not in trouble, are you?” he asked warily.

  “Trouble?”

  He hesitated at Temia’s display of innocence. He would have to think carefully how to explain this to her, as she was obviously a lady of some delicacy.

  “You have not had your virtue compromised and have run away from your family?”

  Temia suddenly understood what he was alluding to and laughed out loud.

  “Goodness, no! I intended to stay with a cousin and arrived without warning to find she had gone away.”

  “Very well,” Leo Baker said suddenly. “If I have Hobson bring you out an old screen, could you paint it for me? It will be a test.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then, come with me. Have it done by five o’clock and I will make my decision then.”

  He then rose from his desk and led Temia up some stairs. Within seconds they were in a labyrinth of corridors that appeared to wind their way around the building.

  “Goodness! I would be lost if you were not leading the way,” she commented, as they reached the stage.

  “Hobson! Hobson!”

  Leo Baker shouted into the auditorium and soon the man Temia had spoken to earlier appeared beneath them.

  “Yes, Mr. Baker.”

  “Go and get that old screen from the dressing room and some paint from the store. This young lady, Miss – ?”

  “Morris.”

  “Yes, she’s going to paint it for us.”

  Hobson simply nodded and disappeared again. “Just wait here for him and put your things by the piano, if you like. Keep out of the way of the girls when they come back – there’s plenty of room, but mind you don’t splash paint all over the place.”

  Temia undid her bonnet and took off her gloves.

  She hoped that she would be able to work in such a cold place and it would not affect her ability. To her surprise, after bringing her the screen and paint, Hobson also brought her a cup of tea.

  Temia threw herself into painting the screen. She turned it into a woodland glade with birds and trees, working as hard as she could. Her fingers almost froze as she worked, but Hobson brought her another cup of tea that warmed her all through.

  The girls returned after their break and immediately came to see what she was doing.

  “Coo, look at that!” came a Cockney accent.

  “Blimey, ain’t it just like bein’ in Eppin’ Forest?” answered her friend, a thin girl with curly red hair.

  “Well, I think that it’s very nice,” said another girl, more quietly. She had dark hair and blue eyes that danced in a heart-shaped face. Temia liked her immediately.

  “What you doin’ this for?”

  “I have asked Mr. Baker to employ me. I am doing this to show him my abilities.”

  “Like, when we audition?” giggled one of them.

  “Yes.”

  “Come along, girls. Miss Morris is busy and you should be warming up!”

  Leo Baker’s strident tones rang across the stage and made the girls jump. The dark-haired girl smiled at Temia.

  “Good luck!” she said, before joining the others.

  By four o’clock, Temia had done as much as she could. She had almost run out of paint, so she put down her brushes and sighed.

  Les Jolies Mademoiselles had rehearsed two dances and now, the red-haired girl, whose name was Lily, she discovered, was on stage alone.

  Her singing voice had a pleasant tone, and, as she wrung her hands and cast her eyes skywards, she sang Handel’s Where’er you walk to the piano. As the last notes died away, Leo Baker came on to the stage and clapped his hands.

  “Very good, Lily, that will have them dabbing their eyes! Now, let’s see what Miss Morris has done.”

  He walked over to Temia. “Well, there’s a pretty thing,” he called, taking in the woodland scene she had so vividly recreated. “Very good, very good indeed, Miss Morris, I would be delighted to employ you on the terms we discussed, of course.”

  “Of course,” reiterated Temia. “And paid work?”

  Leo Baker’s face creased into a frown. He realised that Temia would be an asset and the girls were always complaining about doing their own hair and make-up?

  “Do you think that you could paint faces as well as scenery? I could offer you a modest sum if you could and it would be modest, mind you.”

  Temia had already calculated that the amount she had in her bank account would last her six months and that would include paying for lodgings and food. And now she was being offered both of these and a small sum.

  “I would suppose that painting a face is no different to painting a canvas, so yes, thank you, I would like to take up your kind offer,” she smiled.

  Leo Baker stared at her for a long moment.

  “You that sure you aren’t interested in performing? With a face like yours, you’d pack ’em in! There’s nothing these well-to-do gents like better than a pretty face and a nice ankle – they don’t care so much about the voice!”

  “No, thank you,” said Temia blushing. “Oh, never mind,” he replied cheerfull
y. “Sophia, Look after this young lady, will you? She can stay in your room – there’s a spare bed there since Gladys left us?”

  To Temia’s delight, it was the pleasant-looking girl with the dark hair who stepped forward.

  “What’s your name?” she asked. “Temia.”

  “Well, Temia, our lodgings are not far from here. The landlady, Mrs. Hook, is quite stern, but she keeps a clean house.”

  “Oh, but I have already paid for a night in a nearby establishment.”

  “Then, we’ll go there together and ask her to rent the room. You might lose your money, mind.”

  Sophia took her to the dressing room and Temia was entranced by the row of mirrors and the long narrow bench that served as a dressing table for the girls.

  “You mean – you all use this room?” she asked. “Where else?” said Sophia, “you’ll get used to it. But it’s not for the shy – when we’re all in our underthings – oh, what those toffs would do to be in here!”

  “Toffs?” “You know, upper-class gents. You get all kinds of fellas who like to be around us – rich, not-so rich, bankers, shoppy types and even Lords! The girl whose bed you’ll be having, Gladys, had a proper swell take a fancy to her. Thomas, his name was – can’t remember who he was Lord of, but he was a Lord all right!”

  Temia nodded in response. She had heard of such things. Aristocratic gentlemen who liked to consort with theatrical types. Had not King Charles II himself chosen a mistress from the Halls of Covent Garden?

  “I – hope I haven’t shocked you,” added Sophia.

  “Not at all. I lived in Paris for two years and the French are far more adventurous than the English.” “You’ll get used to those gentlemen. We have ones come in here who think just because we’re on stage, we’ve no morals – if you understand my meaning. Now, come and we’ll go to your lodgings, Temia.” Her heart beat wildly as Sophia took her arm and led her onto the street.

  As they walked away from the theatre, Temia could not resist one backward glance, just to convince herself that she was not dreaming.

  ‘I am really part of Les Jolies Mademoiselles! What would Papa say?’

  *

  The lodgings where Les Jolies Mademoiselles were staying was neat and clean, even if Mrs. Hook was rather forbidding.

  “No gentlemen callers,” she said sternly, as Temia and Sophia struggled up the stairs with her suitcase. The room was spacious enough for the two of them and comprised two beds and a washstand and Temia felt that it would be comfortable enough. With a pain in her heart, she suddenly thought of home and her Mama and Papa. “I must write a letter,” she muttered. “I have a sheet of paper,” offered Sophia, hunting around in the small cupboard that stood at the end of the two beds. “But you will have to write it in your lap.”

  Temia found a wooden tray and began to write, “Dear Mama and Papa,

  I am sorry to have left you so suddenly. I write now to tell you that I am safe and well. Please don’t try to find me. I will write again soon. Your loving daughter, Temia.”

  “I wish I had someone to write to,” sighed Sophia, wistfully watching Temia fold up her letter and address it. “But, it’s no use wasting time wishing. Don’t take off your bonnet, Temia, we have to return to the theatre soon. We have a show to do!”

  It was dusk by the time they returned to the theatre. The lights were on and it was magically transformed into the wonderland she had glimpsed a few weeks earlier.

  Sophia took her straight to the dressing room and showed her where the make-up box was kept.

  “I hope you’re quick. You’ve twelve girls to make up and help dress.”

  “Will I be able to see the show?” asked Temia, as she began to paint Lily’s face.

  “You can watch from the wings, but don’t get in the way or Leo Baker will shout at you!”

  Lily laughed. “Cor, ain’t you made me look a real lady?”

  She admired her reflection and Temia could see her visibly preening.

  “Won’t that have the gents all clamourin’ for me after the show!” “You’ve told ’er about all them men, haven’t you?” asked Lily, cocking her thumb at Temia.

  “Yes, Lily. She knows!” answered Sophia.

  “His Nibs is goin’ to be mighty disappointed if ’e shows up tonight and finds Gladys gone. Perhaps he’ll buy me supper instead!”

  Temia’s curiosity was now aroused. Who was this mysterious gentleman they spoke of?

  “I’d rather dine with that there friend of his,” said Blanche, “them flashin’ eyes!”

  “He be dangerous that one,” came in another. “Got a right temper on him. Jim said he cut up somethin’ rotten when he didn’t let them in the other night.”

  Temia concentrated on the girls’ faces and then, as they ran off for their first piece, she went to the wings.

  Never had she encountered such a feeling! She could almost touch the audience and feel their excitement and, when it came to the finale, she felt as if the applause would lift her up to the top of the theatre.

  After the show she helped the girls hang up their costumes. It seemed as if she had barely finished before there came a knock on the dressing room door.

  “Are you decent?”

  “As we’ll ever be, Jim!” called out Lily saucily.

  The stage door manager put his head around the door and said,

  “Two toffs be outside askin’ for Gladys and won’t believe she’s not ’ere and want to see for themselves.”

  “So, let them in!” cried Lily, patting her hair and wetting her lips.

  Next there came another knock at the door. Temia busied herself with a pile of dresses and tried not to stare as the two gentlemen came into the room.

  “Ladies – !” one of them began. He was tall and handsome with mischievous blue eyes, golden-brown hair and a clipped moustache.

  “Where on earth is Gladys? That bounder on the door said she was no longer here.”

  “She’s not, milord,” said Lily, sashaying towards him with a cute smile. “But I am and I don’t have a dining companion this evening.”

  Temia stole a glance towards the two men and was at once drawn to the dark-haired man behind his friend. He was about an inch taller and his face wore an impenetrable brooding look. His black hair curled over his ears and his eyes were flashing and yet mysterious.

  Catching Temia’s glance, he returned it with a look of such intensity that it hit Temia like a bolt of lightning.

  As if by instinct, the first man followed his friend’s stare and smiled delightedly at Temia.

  “And who is this? You are new, are you not?”

  “That’s our new wardrobe mistress, scenery painter and general skivvy!” pouted Lily boldly.

  Sir Thomas ignored her and walked up to Temia and, taking her hand, kissed it.

  “Please forgive me,” he said, “I am so overcome by your beauty I cannot resist! You must let me make amends for my impertinence by inviting you to dine with me – with us. I am Sir Thomas Babbington and this is my friend, the Earl of Wentworth.”

  ‘Wentworth!’ thought Temia, in shock. ‘Is this the very same Wentworth who had sent his apologies for not attending my ball?’

  She was still rooted to the spot when Sir Thomas repeated his request. Over his shoulder Temia could see Lily was red with fury. She stormed out of the dressing room, slamming the door behind her.

  “I really – cannot!” stammered Temia blushing red.

  “You wound me, madam, but no matter, as I shall return tomorrow evening and will endeavour to secure your acceptance then.”

  With a flourish he bowed low and turned to leave.

  Behind him, the Earl of Wentworth was still staring at Temia and it caused her stomach to turn over.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he intoned in a deep rich voice that surprised her.

  “Well then, you made a friend and an enemy!” said Sophia. “Lily didn’t look so happy with you – unlike Sir Thomas there.”

 
Temia did not speak again until they returned to their room at Mrs. Hook’s. She could not utter a word. How could she when her mind was spinning and her heart felt so strange? It was as if it had been pierced and looked into at the same time.

  As they got ready for bed, she noticed that Sophia took out an old scrap of paper and kissed it. Sophia caught Temia’s look and tucked it away. “It’s a letter from the man who is my father,” she said almost apologetically. “You’ll think it rather foolish of me kissing it like that, but it’s all I have of him.”

  “Do you know if your father is still alive?” “I have no idea. I don’t even know who he was.”

  She paused and then, as if weighing up whether or not to divulge something, took a deep breath.

  “You’ll not think ill of me if I tell you the truth?”

  “No,” answered Temia, taking her hand.

  “Those two gentlemen who came in tonight – ”

  “My own father was one such gentleman – and my mother, she gave birth to me as a result. He was not a bad man, he gave Mama money, but I never met him. Mama would not tell me who he was. She took that secret to her grave. And all I do know is that he owned a big house in Northamptonshire, somewhere.”

  Temia’s blood began to run cold.

  “And you say you never saw him? Sophia, how old are you?”

  “What a question to ask! A lady should never tell her age, that is for certain.”

  “How old are you?” repeated Temia. “Sophia, this is important. I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “Twenty-five,” she whispered. “I’ll be twenty-six in December.”

  The room swam in front of Temia’s eyes. She did not know what to think. Twenty-six? That would be just one year older than Jasper would have been, had he lived.

  “Sophia,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “The letter – did he not sign it? Was there not a name?

  “Only an initial. Would you like to see it?”

  Temia hesitated. If indeed her suspicions were correct, then she did not know how she would cope.

  Swallowing hard, Temia nodded.

  ‘I must see it! I must!’ she told herself. ‘If only to disperse these wicked thoughts in my mind!’

  Sophia pulled the letter out of its hiding place and handed it to Temia. The paper was creased and faded.