“And,” said Martha, “it happened just a few weeks ago.”
I thought the doctor looked a little grave then. I was hustled out of the room, but Martha remained.
It was not long before the doctor came out. I heard Martha talking to him as he left.
I rushed into my mother’s room. She looked at me triumphantly.
“I told you so,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. It was something I ate.”
“What … twice?”
“Yes, twice. It can happen, you know. It’s not so difficult to understand.”
“But … are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I am sound in every limb.”
“Well, it wasn’t your limbs which were in question.”
“No … really, there’s nothing. It’s natural to feel a bit dizzy with a bilious attack. I think I had better have one of those food tasters … the sort kings and queens used to have in the old days. Don’t mention it to Dolly or he’ll make one of the chorus girls taster-in-chief. The fact is that there is nothing wrong with me. But I must always watch what I eat in future.”
Martha came into the room. She looked immensely relieved.
“I was right,” said my mother. “You wouldn’t believe me, would you?”
“Well, let’s thank our lucky stars that it is all right. Dolly will be here soon.”
“Yes. He’ll be furious with me for upsetting his show twice for nothing much.”
“He’ll be jolly grateful that it was nothing much. My goodness, you had me scared.”
“You scare too easily, Martha.”
“It did seem as though there was something to be scared about. If anything went wrong with you …”
“It would be the end of Countess Maud, it seems.”
“It would be the end of more than that. I don’t know where we’d be without you.”
Lisa joined us in the park. She just happened to come across us, she said. I wondered if she had followed me. She had been very interested in Roderick.
I was sorry for Lisa. I could understand her need for company. She was hovering between euphoria and despair.
It was the day after her appearance as Maud. The papers had mentioned it. “Another disappointment for all those who had gathered together to see the incomparable Desiree to find that once again she was unable to appear. We are told it was a bilious attack which had forced Desiree to take to her bed instead of the boards. In her place was her understudy, Miss Lisa Fennell, a young dancer usually seen in the chorus. Miss Fennell tried hard. She fought her way through, faltering on some of the intricate dances, but on the whole was adequate. A talented amateur. She needs more practise in the role. Poor Maud can only totter along at this rate. It’s a thin show and needs a personality like Desiree’s to hold it up. If she is going to make a practice of taking nights off, Countess Maud will not last another month.”
It was a wretched review, damning poor Lisa with faint praise.
Desiree said: “It’s not bad, dear, not bad at all. You should see some of the stuff that came my way in the early days! You’d have thought the best thing I could have done was pack up and go home. They’re like that, dear, all these critics. They couldn’t do it themselves and they don’t like anyone else to. You just don’t take any notice of them. Most of them would give their ears to be on the stage. They can’t do it, so they take it out on those who can. That’s what I’ve always said, and if anyone ought to know, I did.”
Lisa let herself be persuaded. Someone outside the stage door as she left had asked for her autograph and that had raised her spirits considerably.
As before, the press was more concerned with Desiree’s absence than Lisa’s presence. One bilious attack would have been passed over as something that could happen to anyone; but two aroused suspicion. There were hints. Could it be that Desiree’s indisposition might be due to an inclination to take just a little too much of her favourite beverage?
This set my mother and Dolly seething with rage and resentment—even threatening to take action against the offending journalist. After a while, though, they grew calmer.
“What can you do?” said my mother. “You’ve just got to take what they hand out to you.”
Apart from that it seemed that the press had decided that an understudy’s taking over from a well-known actress for a night— or two—was no great news.
Because it had happened so recently, on this occasion in the park, Lisa’s taking over the part during my mother’s enforced absence was the main topic of conversation.
Roderick listened politely as Lisa went over it all.
Poor Lisa, I thought. I supposed talking about it gave some balm to her wounded spirit. She was explaining to him the feeling of numbed terror as the curtain rose.
“I know all the numbers … all the steps. I’ve watched them from the chorus whenever I was onstage, and the chorus is used nearly all the time in Countess Maud … and yet I keep asking myself, ‘Can I remember this? What’s the first line after that?’ Your knees knock together. You’re sure the words won’t come.”
I put in: “My mother always says it is necessary to feel nervous if you are going to give a good performance, and you obviously did that, Lisa.”
“I do hope so. But nobody noticed …”
“Dolly did. He was pleased with you, really. I could tell that.”
“He said the show would close if Desiree had any more bilious attacks.”
“Of course it wouldn’t and she won’t. Missing a night or two only makes the people more eager to see her.”
I turned to Roderick. “Do forgive our going on about this. It was so important to Lisa.”
“I can understand that,” he said. He turned to her. “I wish I had been there.”
“I’m glad you weren’t. I’d rather you saw me when I had had a little more practice.”
“I hope no more practice with Maud, ” I said quickly. “You can only have that if my mother has more attacks and we should all be very worried if she did.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t. I agree. / was really worried when she had that second one … but of course it was just a coincidence … as the doctor said. It can happen.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Roderick, “you could get the leading part in another play … after what you have done in this one. It must be very difficult to be called upon at a moment’s notice. Everyone will know that.”
“It’s part of an understudy’s job. I have to be grateful that I got a start at all. It is so hard to get going without friends.”
“Well, you have friends now,” said Roderick.
She seemed to realize that we had been talking too much about her affairs and she said quickly: “Do tell us more about those wonderful discoveries on your land. How I should love to see them!”
And so we talked, and I felt faintly resentful because once again she had interrupted my session with Roderick.
I went with my mother to visit Janet Dare. She lived in a small house in Islington which she shared with a friend. She was delighted to see us.
The first thing she said was: “Look! No crutches.”
“Wonderful!” cried my mother. “When are you coming back?”
“I have to do some exercises first. It’s the dancing, you see. That’s going to take a little time. If it weren’t for that, I should be back in a week or so. I hope everything’s going all right and Mr. Dollington understands.”
“Of course he does.”
“It was wonderful of him to go on paying my salary. I don’t know what I should have done otherwise.”