Page 27 of The Songbird of Wychwood

CHAPTER 19

GEORGE

I’d taken Percy out through the back staircase and left him in the alley at the stage door. In the open we’d shaken hands like proper gentlemen do, but the looks we shared were scorching and so loaded with desire we could have melted the tar off the road!

“I very much enjoyed our evening. I hope to meet up with you again soon. I would like to continue to get to know you,” Percy said formally. “Would you meet me for a drink perhaps? Browns Hotel has a very nice tea room,” he suggested quite innocently. I thought that, yes, I would like to become friends and take the time to socialize like ordinary fellows do.

“Is Tuesday at two p.m. too early?” I asked.

“I suppose I could take a late lunch. I can tell you then about an idea that I germinated overnight,” he said cryptically.

“Why sir, if you had the capacity to think of other things…we weren’t doing it right!” I replied in Miss Georgette’s suggestive voice.

“Hmm…I do believe we need more practice then!” We both burst out laughing. I longed to pull Percy back into my arms, but as we were in public and there was spying eyes everywhere, I didn’t dare.

“Take the next left off Drury Lane and walk through to Kingsway; you’ll have more of a chance of getting a cab there at this time in the morning,” I directed. Percy nodded.

“Until Tuesday,” he bowed and his fine form kept my gaze as he turned and walked down the back alley and onto the bustling Drury Lane. Men could get away with effeminate affectations and acting queer in the theater, but outside of theater circles I was always on my guard, worried about accusations of unlawful behaviour that could destroy my fledgling career. I closed the back gate and stood against it, looking up at the windows on the crush of buildings that backed on to the Middlesex’s lot, wondering if anyone had seen us. I told myself if they had, they would have seen the ordinary exchange of two friends having a natter.

It had been a wonderful night though, the best of my life. I returned to the theater and as my pocket watch said it was just after eight in the morning I lay in bed for another couple of hours mooning over what a time we’d had. Percy was inexperienced, and I hadn’t wanted him to feel inadequate. I wanted to show him how good it could be to lay with a fellow, and my, he was a quick study. He told me what he found pleasurable, ensuring a delicious give and take. Every time I touched him, he’d looked at me in awe, like I was precious. He didn’t try to take the lead, but let me have my way, trusting me to make it good for him. Seeing his expression when he reached his peak will stay with me forever. I’d sighed and rolled over, he’s followed, pulling me back against his chest.

As I now lay alone in bed, I imagined his warmth at my back. I couldn’t wait to see him again and I hoped to make him fly many more times.

****

When the curtain was down, the empty stage was a great place to warm up my body and my voice. On show days I liked to get on stage first, even though all I had for lighting was a couple of gas wall lamps and the ghost light. The limelighters were usually in early to check the gas footlights and set the limelight for the evening performance. I always did my stretches with Eloise, although I couldn’t bend and contort my body in the way she did, but Eloise wasn’t in yet. I was desperate to tell her about last night with Percy. I couldn’t keep still, so I walked in a circle around the stage, and then I skipped, and jogged while singing scales to myself. I’d stopped moving and was singing to fine tune when, out of the corner of my eye I noticed Mr. Grayson standing off stage left shielded by a drape of the curtain. I didn’t know why he was there. It was just after midday and Grayson didn’t usually come in until at least four p.m on a Saturday. He didn’t watch, or even spy on my warm-ups, or rehearsals, so the fact he was here skulking silently in the wings was peculiar and made me feel a little uncomfortable. His expression was odd too, and the look he was giving me wasn’t the affable appraisal he showed me when we’d conversed face-to-face. I was confused for I’d always thought Mr. Grayson liked me. He’d been fond of our Violette, fond enough to let us live upstairs for free, and then let me stay on here when she’d passed so suddenly. I was discomforted by that strange, calculating look he sent me, and I wondered what was behind it.

Eloise suddenly cart wheeled onto the stage and landed in front of me. “Sorry I’m late, I had quite the night, and boy, do I have some stories for you!” she beamed. She was wearing a white and blue striped Maillot Unitard which permitted modesty along with the freedom of movement she required as a contortionist. The garment accentuated her gorgeous caramel skin, and hugged her slim figure.

I reached to give her a welcoming hug and, in the process, leaned to her ear and whispered. “I’ve got some stories too. But be careful, Grayson’s hiding in the wings and he’s been acting all kinds of odd. He’s been there for ages spying and he ain’t said a word.”

“Right then,“ Eloise said decisively as she pulled out of the hug. “We’d best get warmed up before the stage crew comes in.” Then, a little louder she added, “You alright there Mr. Grayson?” I glared something fierce at Eloise. But it was only then that our boss stepped from the shadows and plastered a fake smile on his sallow face. Mr. Alfred Grayson was in his sixties, and so skinny I was sure a stiff breeze could snap him. His skin had a yellowy-gray caste. His mutton chops and slicked back hair were the colour of an overcast sky. As far as I could see Mr. Grayson lived on a diet of smokes and drink, and if I’m honest, in all the time he’d been my boss I don’t think I’d ever seen him eat solid food.

“Ah, there you are George,” he wheedled with faux cheerfulness. “I been looking for you everywhere.”

“Is that right?” I deadpanned. “What can I do for you Mr. Grayson?” I’d never felt resentful toward him before, Grayson had given me many opportunities, but I couldn’t keep in my ire at being spied on.

“I, um, hear you had a meeting with a gentleman after the show last night,” he began and my hackles rose automatically. Terrifying thoughts flashed through my mind. Does Mr. Grayson know I’m queer? Did he come back and hear Percy and me in my room? I was sure he’d left last night after the show, as was his nightly routine. Grayson had a house in Camden Town, a timid wife and two school aged kiddies, all of whom probably never saw him cos he was either here, on the look-out for new talent, in a pub, or with his latest squeeze.

“That Doris Higgins is one for the tittle-tattle isn’t she. I honestly don’t know why you keep her on, it’s not as if she does her job…unless her job is—“

“GEORGE!” Eloise snapped sharply. Both Eloise and I knew that the only job Doris did was open her legs for our married boss. I glared at Mr. Grayson waiting for him to say something and when he didn’t, I spoke up.

“What business is it of yours who I meet with? You ain’t my keeper, and my private life is exactly that, private.” I knew I was playing with fire. I relied on the goodwill of Mr. Grayson for my job and a place to live. I brought in the crowds well enough, but he didn’t own me. How dare he poke his nose into my private business. A surprising thought came to me then. Maybe it was time I moved out and got rooms elsewhere? I had a good nest egg saved. If I moved out Grayson would then have to pay for a proper night watchman! That would piss him right off! Mr. Grayson had been good natured towards me since he’d given me my break. He told me he was his star act, and he was grooming me for higher things. Last year he’d even mentioned the possibility of me going on a tour playing at theaters all over the country.

Mr. Grayson did not appreciate my waspish tone. His face took on a rictus of rage, and he barked, “It’s my business when a bleedin’ newspaper man is sniffing around my best boy. Now, what did he want, tell me?” Grayson demanded. I was taken aback.

“How do you know what he does?”

“Doris had a flirt with some of the fellows at his table. They all work at Harcourt Press, she said.”

“So what? He works for Harcourt’s. I don’t understand why that’s upset you like this. Is there a scandalous story in the Daily Gazette or something?”

“Well, err, no, not that I know of. Is that why he wanted to meet you, for a story?” Grayson pushed. “What did you tell ‘im?” he snarled.

My blood was boiling at this point and I didn’t care to answer his question. “My private business is private. And you’d do well to tell that nosey fussock you’re shagging to steer well clear of me. I will not have that bint gossiping about me, you hear?”

Grayson gritted his teeth and grumbled, but he had nothing else left to say, so he just turned and stormed off. Exit stage left.