“For espousing gay values and causes whilst all the time havingsecret rumpy-pumpy with a girl.That’s what burns me.And I don’tget it—it’s not like I’m a TV actor or aBig Brothercontestant or one of themob they normally pursue.I’m astounded they’d even heard of me,let alone wanted to make me a headline.”
“That reporter you called a gutter-press bigot might haveremembered who you are.”
“The guy at Pride?Was he...”
“From theStar.I think so, yes.But I agree with you that it’s not funny.Look at Allie’s picture.What state must she have been in, to saythose things?I imagine they were prompting her and she was justagreeing, but still.”
Lauriegroaned.“All right.I’m sorry I sent her to the bottom of the sea.Can we fish her up again?I’ll phone her and checkshe’s—”
A rap atthe door startled them both.“No need,” Sasha said quietly.“Ithink your fish is here.”
She was.Paul Jacobs had her by the hand, less like a fish than a truculentkid caught stealing sweeties from Woolworth’s.Laurie opened thedoor wide and looked at them both.“Allie,” he said.“Mr Jacobs.Idon’t know what the bloody hell’s going on, but...”
Paul had his own copy of theSundayStar.He hadn’t taken time to shave, but hewas clean and reassuring in his summer tweed jacket and brogues.The Rayne’s End theatre had been a tight-run family concern, he andMrs J informal parents to their shifting population of players andstaff.Clearly he hadn’t forgotten his old obligations.“There’s noparticular reason why you should let us in, Laurence.But youalways were a good-natured boy, and we were hoping you mightstretch a point.”
Lauriegestured them inside.He followed them upstairs.Sasha had goneahead, and by the time they reached the kitchen, was busyinghimself quietly in the background with kettle and teacups.Hepaused to smile at Paul, who gave him a friendly nod and subtlyindicated his reluctant catch, now trying her best to hide behindhis shoulder.“Thank you, Sasha.Could it be coffee for Alison,please?Nice and strong?”
“Of course.Milk and two sugars, isn’t it, Allie?”
Alisonsobbed.She was green to the gills, her eyes raw with tears.Something—perhaps having her coffee details remembered in thishouse where she hadn’t been sure of finding admittance—pushed herover the edge.The sullen cloud around her vanished and shestumbled out from her shelter behind Paul.“Laurie,” she rasped.“Ididn’t know what I was doing.I was drunk, and I’d had a bit of E,and...this guy in the club just started talking to me about you.Iwanted to talk about you.”She sniffed loudly, and seized thehandkerchief Paul produced from his jacket.“And I don’t rememberthe rest.I swear.”
Laurielooked at her.He didn’t get it.There she was—the same sweet girlwho’d come running after him on a cold winter’s day at Rayne’s Endto tell him he was hired.“Okay.Why, though, Allie?”
“I was mad with you.”
“Yeah, I remember you leaving.But what did I do?”
Alison looked around her, a painful blush spreading.But Sashawas discreetly deaf at the other end of the kitchen and, havingthrown herself on Paul Jacobs’ mercy at six in the morning whentheStarhad firsthit the newsstands, she couldn’t very well ask him to leave.“Itwas Bertram,” she muttered.“I think you were still being Bertram.Your manager told me to leave you alone, but I was excited, and...”She paused, a bitter chuckle shaking her.“It just occurred to me.I could have been bloody Helena, couldn’t I?I asked you for akiss, and you—you pushed me away.”
“Oh, Allie.I was distracted, that’s all.I—”
“You don’t understand.”The floodgates opened.“You neverunderstood, did you?Did you think I was following you around everytheatre in London because of youractingskills?”
“No, of course not.You’re a great house manager.I thought...”The penny dropped.Laurie pulled out the chair behind him and sankinto it.“Oh, for God’s sake.No.”
“I know.I’m nobody.I just chivvy people around backstage.Whyshould you even notice me?”
“Who said you were nobody?”Laurie shoved a hand into hisfringe.“Of course I bloody noticed you.But—I’m gay, Allie.Prettymuch wrapped around my boyfriend from the first day you met me.Didn’t it occur to you how much this might have hurtSasha?”
Alisonshot an anguished glance across the kitchen.Sasha tried for areassuring smile, but to no avail: guilt and unrequited lovecombined explosively in Alison’s breast and she flung herself atLaurie, whose reflexes kicked in fast enough to catch her beforeshe hit the floor.“I just bloody love you,” she choked out, herface buried against his knee.“I just love you.I just loveyou.”
PaulJacobs accepted his tea from Sasha.“The thing is,” he saidconversationally, as if giving Laurie some advice about stagecraftor Equity, “a young male actor, especially a gay one, can sometimeshave a funny effect on girls.They don’t want anything particularlyof him, you see—they get that he’s not available.They usually justwant him to be kind.”
Lauriehad lifted Alison into his arms.His eyes were full of tears.“AndI wasn’t.”
“Very unlike you, sweet prince.Very like Bertram, though.”Paul sipped his coffee, shook his head over the newspaper spreadout on the table.“Who ever thought that any actorI’dever had dealingswith would be starting to pay the price of fame?Be careful,Laurie.It often seems strange to me that Shakespeare put his bestadvice into the mouth of such an annoying old man,but...”
Laurie met his gaze.He didn’t need to go on.To thine own self be true...Laurie’s self, that mutable entity which had found andfixed its compass north on Sasha, was restless as a half-tamedfalcon.Laurie knew it.Sometimes this flat was his whole world,and sometimes all the open skies of heaven didn’t feel like halfenough.He kissed Alison’s wet cheek.Sasha came to stand behindthem, leaning over to caress them both, and Laurie grabbed his armlike a lifeline.
He must have left the front door on the catch.It flew back,heavy brass knocker impacting hard enough to knock out plaster.Sasha snatched his arm free and darted round to get between thekitchen door and Laurie, his move so fast that Laurie barely sawit.Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, and Arnold Hamlin’smassive shadow fell across the room.He too had his copy oftheStar, ofcourse, upheld like a banner of doom over his head.He swept ananguished gaze over the odd tableau in front of him—the Romanianboyen garde,partially blocking his view of Fitzroy, who for some reason washolding a girl more or less on his lap.At the table, Paul Jacobs,cradling his cup and watching him in amusement.“Damage control,”Arnold gasped, flapping the paper at all of them.“Damagecontrol!”
“I think,” Paul said mildly, “that the worst of it’s inhand.”
“What?Did you contact the paper?Did they issue aretraction?”
“No, but Laurence and Alison are a good deal lessupset.”
“Laurence and...”Suddenly Arnold recognised the crumpled formin Laurie’s arms.He swung round, making a noise like a surfacingwhale, Sasha promptly taking a dancer’s step—really, Arnold wouldhave hired the boy if he could, except that he was so damn seriousand proper he’d never have set foot on a stage—to block him.“Alison?Alison Kiss-and-Tell Jones, could that possiblybe?”
