Blue Door Venture Page 15

  The streets were narrow and deserted.

  ‘This would be a very pretty little town,’ observed Jeremy, ‘if my eyes would only stay open long enough for me to look at it.’

  ‘We’ll book in at the hotel for a few hours’ sleep, then a meal, before we do anything else,’ said Nigel.

  The girl behind the reception desk of the ‘Lion’ did not seem at all surprised to have three visitors asking for rooms at that early hour of the morning, as she was evidently used to people coming off the night train. They inquired for Lucky, with the same description, but the girl said, ‘Well, I wasn’t here yesterday. I only got back from holiday last night. I don’t remember seeing the gentleman yet today—what was the name?’

  ‘Green. But I don’t expect—’

  ‘No. There’s no Green on the register.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Nigel. ‘Well, we’ll look for him in the morning.’

  They were shown to two pleasant rooms adjoining each other and looking over the harbour. When the porter had closed the door, Bulldog bounced on the bed to test the springs.

  ‘Gosh, we’ll have to pay through the nose for this,’ he groaned.

  ‘Lucky will, you mean,’ said Nigel determinedly.

  ‘Goodnight, you chaps.’

  They slept like logs until lunch-time, then Nigel woke and looked at his watch.

  ‘Hey,’ he cried, ‘we’re slipping. We must get up. Do you realize that at this moment Mr Lucky may be downstairs stuffing his lunch into him.’ They tumbled into their clothes, waiting only to splash cold water on their faces and hurried downstairs to the dining-room, peering eagerly round every corner. The diningroom was full, but Lucky was not there. They took a table by the door, and eyed each new arrival.

  ‘It’s just like being back at Nick’s Caff,’ observed Bulldog.

  ‘Except the food’s better,’ added Jeremy. ‘I could do with as long here as we had at Nick’s.’

  ‘We’d be in jail by the time it came to paying the bill.’

  By the end of lunch Lucky had still not appeared. They questioned the waiter, who was able to tell them that Lucky was definitely staying there, under the name of Halford.

  ‘The nerve!’ expostulated Nigel. ‘Not content with taking our money, he takes our names.’ They fumed for a long time, lying in wait in the lobby, their pent-up tempers rising to boiling point.

  ‘I can’t wait here any longer,’ cried Bulldog at last.

  ‘Come on. Let’s go round the town and look for him. He must be somewhere about if he’s still staying at the hotel.’

  ‘O.K.’ They set off into the little town, unable to appreciate the smell of the sea, and the cathedral that stood guard above the town. Their eyes darted into every nook and cranny, but there was no Lucky. They walked round Woolworth’s and Marks and Spencer’s, along the jetty and through an amusement arcade—all the places where they might encounter him—but with no success.

  Suddenly Nigel said, ‘Hallo, there’s a theatre here.’

  They studied the bill to which he pointed, and followed the directions on it for reaching the theatre. They turned out of a narrow alley-way and were opposite the small cream-coloured building. And then, to their amazement, out of the door ran Vicky, her red hair flying in the breeze. She went to the middle of the road, looking wildly up and down, and wringing her hands. Behind her in the foyer of the theatre appeared the other two girls.

  ‘Look!’ shouted Bulldog, as they stood amazed on the other side of the road. The three girls stood talking with frantic gesticulations, as the boys wended their way across the busy little street.

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ began Nigel, and Vicky swung round with a cry of surprise. Then she burst into tears on her brother’s shoulder.

  There was a confusion of questions and explanations, until Lyn shouted urgently at the top of her voice, ‘Listen. Lucky was here two minutes ago—he’s just escaped. Do you hear? We let him go—we must get a move on—’

  ‘But where—where?’ sobbed Vicky.

  ‘The hotel,’ shouted Nigel, and led the way. Single file the six of them ran at top speed through the streets of Penlannock, scattering the citizens to left and right.

  At the desk the receptionist said brightly, ‘Oh, your friend has just this minute left. Paid his bill and took a taxi to the station.’

  They turned and made for the station, their breath burning their chests.

  ‘Oh, Nigel—’ began Vicky.

  ‘Don’t waste your breath,’ barked Nigel.

  At the booking-office the bespectacled clerk said, ‘Oh, that fellow you inquired about this morning has just caught the London train.’

  ‘You mean—he’s gone?’

  ‘Yes, the train’s just going out now.’

  They made a few faltering steps towards the platform, in time to see the tail of the London train swerve round the bend. The clerk looked at their tragic faces, and the tearstains on Vicky’s.

  ‘I say,’ he called. ‘There’s a lorry going to London just about to leave from the goods yard. Over there, look. Go and cadge a lift.’ They looked wildly at each other.

  ‘Yes, go on,’ ordered Lyn. ‘We must stay here.’

  They ran to the lorry and were aboard it almost before the driver had given his permission.

  ‘Go—to—the—hotel—and—pick—up—our—bags—and—send—them—by—the—next—train—to—Paddington—to—be—called—for—’ yelled Nigel, above the noise of the engine.

  ‘Write to us at the Little Theatre,’ shouted Sandra.

  ‘Hey,’ yelled Bulldog, as the lorry was just moving off. ‘We haven’t got any money left.’

  The girls hastily scrabbled in their handbags and pressed some notes into the outstretched hands.

  ‘Goodbye… Nice to have seen you…’ yelled the boys, and the lorry roared off. The three girls, dazed and breathless, stood leaning against each other, looking after it.

  ‘That was so sudden…’ said Vicky, with a sob.

  16

  MAIL BAG

  Little Theatre

  Penlannock

  Cornwall

  Dearest Mummy and Daddy

  I feel that the time has come for me to write to you to let you know that we are perfectly safe—if not happy. Sandra and Vicky are writing to their parents too. You must have been very worried when you got the notes we left behind us, and we do apologize for the manner in which we have done this. I saw Jeremy yesterday and, although we did not have much time to talk, I can assure you he is all right. So much has happened since we left home over a month ago, that I don’t think I can attempt to tell you about it in a letter. I will wait till we are home again, as I pray we shall be very soon. The search for Lucky is taking a very long time, but we are determined to find him. We nearly got him yesterday, but he slipped through our fingers. He won’t next time. Of that I am positive.

  At the moment Sandra and Vicky and I are working in very unimportant positions at the above theatre, for very meagre sums. The boys have returned to London to continue their chase. If you could find it at all possible to send me some food I should be very grateful—one of your chocolatey cakes, you know… You probably think I don’t deserve it after all this, but we are only having bed and breakfast at our digs and trying to economize on other meals, so a cake would help for the teas we brew ourselves in the prop. room.

  What is the news of Mr Chubb? Has he recovered properly yet?

  All my love to you both, and many apologies for the anxiety we must have caused you. Don’t ask us to come home, for we can’t till this is all finished,

  Your daughter in exile,

  LYNETTE

  The Cottage

  Lukesbury

  Nr Axminster

  My Dear Girls,

  I feel I must write you a line to tell you that my four companies were all placed in the Edinburgh contest. Isn’t that wonderful? I must thank you very sincerely for all the valuable help you gave me during your stay, and I wo
uld like you to know how very much I enjoyed your company during that time. If you ever wish to come back for a short stay, please do so without even bothering to let me know. Turn up at the door-step and Lenny and I will be delighted.

  I do hope your search for work, and the boys’ search for Lucky are both meeting with success. Do let me know the latest bulletin, won’t you?

  I wonder if you got anywhere with Colin Cowdray? I’m sending this care of Maddy at the Academy, so that she can forward it to you.

  Perhaps you would like more details of the contest. Sandra’s protégées won the cup! A local Edinburgh company came second, Lyn’s little bunch came third, mine fourth, and Vicky’s were among those honourably mentioned. It is a real triumph for this district, and I have been complimented by the Director of Education. I had to admit that I had received valuable professional advice!

  The cottage seems very deserted without you, and there doesn’t seem to be much to do now that the contest is over. But still—it will soon be time to start thinking about next year’s, I suppose.

  Well, keep as cheerful as you were when I met you, and I know things will go your way,

  All the best,

  Yours sincerely,

  CONSTANCE FELTON

  PS Lenny sends her love, and when we hear from you will send some cakes.

  c/o GPO

  Leicester Square

  Dear Mum,

  I just bin down Cornwall way. Am back now and hoping to see you soon. Business isn’t that good. Not much future in the theatre racket, I should say. Thinking of going in for another line. Hope you are keeping an eye on that box which I left with you last time. I’ll be needing it bad soon. So expect me down our way any time. If you could drop a quid to above address should be grateful,

  Your loving son,

  LUCKY

  British Actors’ Guild Academy

  London WC1

  Dearest All,

  What jolly rotten luck! I saw the boys last night and they told me. They looked awful, not having washed or shaved for days. For goodness sake hurry up and send their luggage before they get picked up as tramps. Whatever are we going to do now? I wish I could think of something. The boys are in the dumps, and I expect you are. I try hard to be madly cheerful, but it doesn’t go down very well. Ah well, I’m used to being sat on. But seriously, things are bad, aren’t they? I feel awful staying here, when you’re all having a ghastly time. We seem to be just where we started from, only worse, because Lucky knows we’re on his trail. He must make a habit of stealing money from box-offices, mustn’t he? as that was where he was at Penlannock. I do think he’s a pig. Worse than Mrs Potter-Smith. She just talks. He steals.

  Well, I’ve got some lines to learn, so I will have to stop. I’m going out with the boys tonight. We’re just going looking. Lucky must be in London somewhere, and if you can bump into him in Penlannock, then we can in Piccadilly. It’s hard on the feet though. But still, he may be round the very next corner.

  Lots of love,

  Yours affectionately,

  MADDY

  39 Lower Avenue

  Fenchester

  Dear old Lads,

  I was very glad to have news of you, via the girls via your parents. They have been extremely worried about you, to say nothing of my humble self. My bronchitis is much better now that the weather is warmer. I went back to bed, you know, with a relapse just after you made your exit. But the landlady has been an angel, and I am doing nicely now and feeling ready for work. I do hope that you either find Lucky and regain the money, or else raise the wind in some other way, so that we can open up again. I am seeing that the theatre is kept clean, and go in every other day to put the heating on so that it will not get damp. Mrs Potter-Smith came to me the other day to ask if she might use it for some monstrosity or other. I did not quite know what to say, so, knowing that you would wish me to refuse, I told her that we were having the decorators in. If only we were! That made her think, of course, that we were starting up again, and she looked very crestfallen.

  Do write again and let me know how you are getting on, and how the chase is progressing. I have heard from Terry at Tutworth Wells, and Myrtle too. They are both straining at the leash to return to us, and say that no other company has the same quality as the Blue Doors, and I agree with them,

  With you in spirit,

  Your affectionate friend,

  EDWIN CHUBB

  5 Linden Grove

  London SE

  Dear Lucky-Boy,

  Thanks for yours. Glad to hear your alright. Fancy, you bin down Cornwall. Nice, I should think. Sorry about business not being so good. Well, you can come home for a bit and think things over. Yes, I kep that box safe. Some friends called to see you since you bin away. Nice chaps called Jack and Pete and Jo. I told them Nick’s Caff but they didn’t know it. Still, I expect you seen them by now. Well, all news when we meet. Hope enclosed will help. Hoping this finds you as it leaves

  Your loving MUM

  Little Theatre

  Penlannock

  Dear Nigel, Jeremy and Bulldog,

  We do hope you got back safely on that awful looking lorry. What an extraordinary meeting it was! It would have been lovely seeing you, if only we had had time for a real talk. After you had gone we really began to wonder whether we had dreamed it or not. What a coincidence that Lucky should just pick on the theatre that we are working at! I suppose it wasn’t really another coincidence that you should turn up, because you had tracked him down to Penlannock, hadn’t you? But, at the time, it seemed just too much. When we got back to the theatre we tried to find out from the girl in the box-office what exactly had been Lucky’s approach. She was a local girl who had not been working there long, and she said that he had just dropped in about half an hour before, and had stood talking to her in a way that she said was ‘very friendly and nice’, and had just asked if he could come inside and warm his hands on the radiator in the box-office. That was when we walked in. A jolly good thing for her that we did! But we could kick ourselves for letting him get away. It was the suddenness of it that did it. He was the last person that we expected to see.

  Needless to say, we were in no state to be very brilliant at meeting a new company and lending them a hand backstage that evening! They thought us completely dopey, I believe, but we have made up for it since, and are doing more than our share of work. They are a very nice crowd but terribly commercial, somehow, after the Blue Doors. Goodness knows we had to count every penny, but we did have other thoughts than how much money we were making. If only we can start up the Blue Door Theatre again—that is the only thought that is keeping us going. After all the lovely parts we were playing at Fenchester, it is so awful A.S.M.-ing and walking on. It seems we are going backwards instead of forwards.

  Still, we mustn’t grumble to you, because after all, we at least are in a theatre. Some of them down here had heard of us and have been very sympathetic about our bad luck. But that doesn’t really help.

  Have you any news of Lucky? What plan of campaign are you following?

  We enclose some money, and apologize for it being such a small sum. But we found to our horror on pay day that they are only paying us two-ten each—and our digs come to thirty bob. We do hope you can manage all right on this. It’s a pity Maddy’s money is so tied up, or you could have borrowed a bit from her.

  We have written to the parents at last, so you’ll probably be hearing from them. I should think they’ll send you some food, too. We told them the situation was rather hungry! We haven’t heard from them yet and are hoping they are not too angry with us.

  Don’t be too depressed. It’s difficult not to be, we know, but it doesn’t help. After all, it’s experience. Sorry to come out with all this good advice but it’s becoming a habit with us. We only have to pass each other backstage and one of us says, ‘Oh, well, it’s a long worm that has no turning,’ or ‘They say that it’s better to travel hopefully than to arrive,’ and other helpful mottoes. Bu
t seriously, don’t get too worried. We can hold out as long as you can and, if the money is not sufficient to see you through, we will look for better paid jobs elsewhere—not in the theatre.

  Well, we’ve got to set the stage for the matinée now, so all the best,

  Lyn, Sandra and Vicky

  PS Our love to Maddy. Tell her how much we envy her still being at the Academy.

  Young Men’s Hostel Association

  Russell Square, WC1

  Dear Females,

  Yes, we’re back at the above address, a luxurious hostelry, if ever there was one. The warder, or warden, whatever he calls himself, is beginning to get a bit suspicious because we’re not working, so we shall soon be slung out, I expect.

  What a gay expedition it was to Penlannock! So nice to sniff the sea air for a few moments. It was most strange that we should track Lucky down just when he had encountered you lot. You could have knocked us over with a very small feather when we saw Vicky’s red head appearing from the theatre.

  The lorry was hardly a joy ride but we made London in very good time, in the early hours of the morning, and returned at once to our favourite hotel, see above, where we were given the bridal suite and caviare for breakfast.

  Many thanks for the letter and money. What a shame they are working you so hard for so little. It hardly covers your expenses, does it? let alone ours. But don’t, whatever you do, give up this job for a non-theatrical one. You’re very lucky to have dropped into one all together like this. And we must keep some connection with the theatre amongst us.

  We’re glad you’ve written to the parents, and sincerely hope they will send us some food. We’re down to one (very large) meal a day. Maddy is a brick, and pinches all she can from her lunch at the Academy canteen, but that doesn’t go very far.