That was the trouble. I did not believe in them either. I was terribly afraid that there was some reason for them other than that they were due to something she had eaten.
Martha felt the same. She averted her eyes and muttered something to herself.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “I’m going to get another opinion. No more of that dithering old Green.”
The immediate concern was the night’s show.
Lisa was in a nervous state. Like all actresses in a similar position, she had hoped for fame overnight. She had scarcely had that. I was not sure whether her performances had done her more harm than good. But she was always hopeful. This would be her third attempt and I knew she was practising the leading role all the time.
My mother said to me: “Do go tonight. I think it helps Lisa to know you’re there. Robert is in town. He’ll go with you.”
I did not want her to know how anxious I was about her, so I agreed. The next day Martha and I would put our heads together and decide what should be done. We would call in a specialist and try to find out if there was anything seriously wrong.
Just before Lisa left for the theatre I had a word with her.
She was pale and tense.
“I’ve done a bold thing,” she said. “I don’t know what made me. I wrote a note to Roderick Claverham and asked him to come to the theatre tonight as I’m playing the lead.”
I was astounded.
“What will he think?” she went on. “He probably won’t come.”
“Why did you?” I asked.
“I just had a feeling that I needed in the audience all the friends I could muster.”
“You’ll be all right,” I said. “I wonder if he’ll come.”
“He did say he was sorry he missed my performance before.”
I really could not give my attention to much except what was wrong with my mother. I wished I could talk to Martha about it. Charlie wasn’t in London at the time. He would have been very understanding and would have helped us to find the right specialist. For to a specialist we were going. Martha had made up her mind about that … and so had I.
I was glad of Robert that night. It was his custom to take a box for as long as the play should run for all my mother’s shows, so we were able to use it whenever we wanted to. It was most convenient.
Robert was very concerned about my mother, and I felt I could talk to him as openly as I could to Charlie.
He said: “This is most disturbing.”
I told him that we were going to insist on her seeing a specialist tomorrow. We didn’t think Dr. Green was good enough.
“You think it is something really bad?”
“Well, it has happened three times, all within a short space of time. She has to feel really ill to give up a night’s performance. It can’t go on. We are wondering if there is some reason for it … something wrong … internally.”
“She always looks so … how do you say it? … so full of the good spirits.”
“Healthy! Vital!” I supplied. “I wanted to stay with her but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said Lisa would need my support.”
“That is what she say to me. Dear Desiree, she think always of the others.”
“Yes. And I’m terribly worried about her.”
He took my hand and pressed it.
“We will do something,” he promised.
I looked down below. In the tenth row of the stalls I saw Roderick. He looked up at the box and waved. So he had come to see Lisa.
I was wondering what would happen when Dolly came out onto the stage and said his piece. The audience listened aghast, then the murmuring started.
Dolly looked distraught, his hand to his brow, his pose one of acute melancholy. He faced them bravely.
“Desiree is desolate. She hopes you will forgive her. Believe me, if she were fit to stagger onto this stage, she would have done so.”
One or two people walked out. We waited in trepidation for more to follow. There were some anxious moments, and then they settled down.
They had come to see a show. It was an evening’s outing, and although it might not be what they had expected, they would stay.
The curtain went up; the chorus was singing; it parted and there was Lisa. “Can I help you, madam?” She was giving it everything she had. I thought she was good.
Let them like her, I prayed.
Dolly came silently into the box and sat down, watching the audience rather than the stage.
After a while the tension eased. It was not going too badly. I felt even Dolly relax a little, but he was still watchful, still alert.
In the interval he left us.
Robert said: “It goes well, eh? Not bad? The young girl … she is no Desiree … but she is good, eh?”
I said: “Yes. It’s the third time she’s done it and she improves every time.”
“It is a trial for her.”
The door opened and Roderick looked in.
“Hello,” I cried. “I saw you below. Robert, this is Roderick Claverham, Charlie’s son. Roderick, Monsieur Robert Bouchere.”
They exchanged courtesies.
“It was good of you to come,” I said. “Lisa will be pleased.”
“How is your mother?”
“It’s another of those horrible attacks. We’re going to make her see a specialist. Martha is going to insist, and I agree with her. She can’t go on like this. How are you enjoying the show?”
“Very much. I am somewhat far from the stage, but it was the best seat I could get at such short notice.”
I looked at Robert. I said: “This is Monsieur Bouchere’s box. He kindly allows us to use it.”
Robert said quickly: “You must join us. Here you get a good view of the stage, except for the one corner. It is the right one. But that is rarely of importance.”
“How kind of you. I shall be delighted.”
“You are staying in London long?” I asked Roderick.
“No. My visits are brief. There is a good deal to do at home.”
“And your father?”
“He is at home now. I expect he will be coming to London soon.”
The bell was ringing and the curtain was about to rise.
I noticed with interest how Roderick watched Lisa.
“She’s doing well,” I said. “I’m glad.”
He nodded.
The final curtain had fallen. Lisa took the applause with obvious gratitude. It did not last very long. If my mother had been there, they would have called her back and back again.
We went into Lisa’s dressing room to congratulate her. She was half elated, half apprehensive and looked frail and vulnerable. I felt sorry for her and I sensed that Roderick was, too. Her great chance had not really brought her what she had hoped for.
Roderick said: “I wonder if I could take you out to a little supper … you and Noelle and perhaps Monsieur Bouchere?”
“What a lovely idea!” cried Lisa.
Robert said: “You must excuse me,” and I added that I wanted to get back at once to see how my mother was.
Lisa’s face fell and Roderick looked disappointed, too.
Robert said: “Why should you two not go, yes? It is good for you, Mademoiselle Fennell … to sit over supper … and what is it you say? … relax … release the tension. What you have done tonight is a stress … is it not? Yes … it will be good for you to sit … and talk … to laugh … to forget. I will take Noelle home.”
“Thomas will be there with the carriage for Martha and me,” I said.
“Then we shall all go in the carriage … the three of us … leaving these two to their supper.”
Roderick was looking expectantly at Lisa. I told myself he was implying that he would like to go back to the house to discover how my mother was, but Lisa was looking so dejected, and Robert was right when he said she needed to relax. As for Roderick, having made the invitation, he could scarcely take it back. So it was decided that Roderick and Lisa should have supper while the rest of us went back to the house.