The Actresses by Barbara Ewing

Author:Barbara Ewing [Ewing, Barbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788544634
Publisher: Head of Zeus Ltd.

18

‘Good evening, Copperfield Hall.’

‘Good evening, is that Mrs Beale?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mrs Beale, it’s Pauline –’ she used her stage name, the one Harry had used to introduce her ‘– Pauline O’Brien, you remember I came with Harry Donaldson to see Roger Popham last week.’

‘Ah. Miss O’Brien...’

‘Mrs Beale, I feel I can tell you now, and I’d like to come back to Copperfield Hall and tell him properly too if you agree: Roger Popham is my father.’

‘Your father?’

‘I know how strange it sounds, he knew my mother when she was young. She married someone else, Ronald O’Brien, but I’ve known since I was nineteen that a man called Roger Popham was my father, that’s why we came to see him and I – oh Mrs Beale, it’s extraordinary for me after all these years as you can imagine, and I don’t want to either shock him or upset him but – don’t you think it might be – pleasing – for him to know he had a family who would at least like to – meet him?’

There was a silence on the other end of the phone.

‘Mrs Beale – I know he was a homosexual. These things – well, these things happen.’

‘Oh my dear.’ Mrs Beale pulled herself together. ‘I’ve phoned Mr Donaldson several times, I thought he’d like to know, but kept getting his answering machine. Roger died two days ago.’

She heard Pauline’s intake of breath.

‘It was very peaceful.’ Mrs Beale was practised at this. ‘He died in his sleep, he was over eighty you know and extremely independent, it was a very good way for him to go, he would have hated to have to rely on us more than he did.’

Pauline was literally unable to speak.

‘I shall miss him very much,’ continued Mrs Beale. Then she added, ‘We don’t necessarily make much of funerals here as you can imagine, especially if there is no family, and in this particular home there so often isn’t.’ She had often pondered on this: old actors soldiering on, with no one but one another. ‘But there’ll be a short service at our local church tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock. Perhaps you and Mr Donaldson would like to attend.’

‘He’s away,’ said Pauline automatically. ‘But yes – thank you, I – I’ll be there, thank you for letting me know.’ She put the receiver down.

I would think it all a dream, she thought, if Harry hadn’t been there with me.

She looked out over the Chiswick garden in the night, over the dark river.

*

Next morning she drove to Copperfield Hall, left the Mercedes in the driveway, walked the short distance to the church in the still, warm sunshine. At the church gate she caught up with an old lady who was slowly walking along and had just dropped a long brightly coloured scarf. Pauline picked it up for her.

‘This is my funeral scarf,’ said the old lady. ‘You notice it is very bright colours. I don’t know why you are wearing black. Roger wouldn’t have liked that.’

‘Would he not?’ said Pauline.

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