Page 21 of The Lavender Bride
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Tonight is the glitzy premiere of The Three Musketeers . Attending will be Audrey Trent making her first appearance on the red carpet since her whirlwind wedding to heart-throb, Rex Trent. How will the former secretary acquit herself amongst some of the starriest company in the land?
LOS ANGELES EXAMINER , 29 MAY 1952
I was already nervous about tonight’s premiere and I definitely didn’t need Louella Parsons making me feel everyone will be watching to see if I put a foot wrong. I’ve had lessons from Crown’s deportment teacher on how to walk, stand and turn on the red carpet. Apparently, I march along in far too much of a businesslike manner and have to learn to glide instead. I tried telling her that there wasn’t much call for gliding back in Sheffield but she simply raised a chilly eyebrow and told me to go again.
My gown is a beautiful burgundy satin. An exclusive jeweller has lent me a diamond choker and matching earrings. My hair has been styled by the top hairdresser in Beverly Hills and my make-up done by one of the girls from Crown.
As I look in the full-length mirror in my bedroom, I barely recognise myself. In the amazing dress and fur wrap, I look like a movie star’s wife. Wealthy, glamorous, assured. No one will know that inside, I’m terrified of falling over or spilling my drink or saying the wrong thing to someone important.
I turn to the pair of eyes that watch from the bed. They’re not Rex’s. He’s in his own room, putting on his tuxedo and, if I’m not very much mistaken, having a glass or two of bourbon on the sly. It’s Muffin who’s looking at me with her head tilted. She’s a West Highland White Terrier and was my wedding present from Rex. She’s my constant companion and I adore her.
‘Will I do?’ I ask the little dog as I pick up my evening bag and gloves.
She whines as if she understands me and then jumps down, following me downstairs.
Rex waits in the sitting room. His black tuxedo is perfectly tailored to accentuate his height and broad shoulders but his bow tie is undone. He struggles to tie them himself. He’s got a glass of bourbon in his hand and I can tell from his flushed skin that it’s not his first.
The amount Rex drinks has been the biggest shock of our marriage. I’d seen him drink on our dates and, once or twice, thought he was putting it away rather quickly. That was nothing compared to the amount I’ve discovered he regularly drinks. Every evening, he’s knocking back glass after glass of bourbon and weekends are worse. He can go through bottles at a time.
I’ve tried talking to him about it but all he says is, ‘You don’t know how hard it is for me,’ which I’m sure is true. Sometimes, I can feel how much he misses Tony and the life he used to live.
‘You look stunning, Audrey,’ he says as I enter. ‘Do a twirl!’
I’ve learnt Rex gets pleasure from seeing me in pretty clothes. I obligingly twirl around, using the skills the deportment teacher drummed into me.
He lifts his glass as I return to facing him. ‘You’ll be the prettiest girl there.’
‘You look rather dapper yourself,’ I tell him. ‘Or you will when I’ve tied that bow tie.’
He perches on the edge of the chair arm and as I walk towards him to knot the tie, Muffin jumps up against his leg.
‘Get off!’ he yells at her. ‘You’ll get hairs on my trousers.’
He jerks his leg, or it is a kick? It happens so fast, I can’t tell, but her small, furry body is propelled backwards. Her claws skitter for purchase on the marble floor then, with a yelp, she crashes against the coffee table.
‘Oh, my goodness!’ I’m instantly on hands and knees beside her. ‘Are you all right?’
Obviously, Muffin doesn’t answer me but she looks at me with reproachful, dark eyes as I run my hands over her back and legs. She gives herself a little shake which reassures me there’s no serious harm done but that’s no thanks to Rex.
I stand up, fold my arms and face him. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing? You could have hurt her!’
Rex knocks his bourbon back in one swift gulp. ‘You care more about that damned dog than you do about me. I wish I’d never bought her for you.’
I’m appalled he’d say that. Does he have no idea what Muffin means to me? She’s the brightest thing in most of my days. Because the sad truth is I’m both bored and lonely since I married Rex. I don’t seem cut out for a life of leisure. I miss working. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been as hard to adjust if I had a house to run but Trudie does all of that. In truth, my only purpose seems to be to shop, go to the beauty parlour and out for lunch. I enjoyed it for the first fortnight but after three months, I’m desperate for some purpose to my days.
‘I love Muffin. She keeps me company.’ I cross my arms over my chest. ‘Do you have any idea how lonely it is for me in this house all day on my own? I’d go crazy without her.’
‘You live the life of Riley.’ Rex flings out the hand holding his now empty glass. ‘I’m the one slogging my guts out at the studio and then all you do when I get home is nag at me about drinking too much.’
We’re back on the drinking again. Every disagreement we’ve had comes back to this. I take a long breath, feel my ribs press against the boning in my dress.
‘Let’s not do this,’ I say, forcing myself to sound calmer than I feel. I glance at my tiny, gold cocktail watch which was a surprisingly generous leaving gift from Dirk. ‘The car is coming for us in five minutes.’
‘Fine!’ Rex mutters. He sits again, petulant as a little boy. I move to him to tie his bow tie. His breath stinks of alcohol. Everyone will know he’s been drinking as soon as they speak to him. My fingers are shaking as I tie the fabric. I fumble it once and Rex sighs pointedly, sending another blast of bourbon fumes into my face.
The car picks us up. We sit in painful silence. Rex pointedly picks a few dog hairs from his trousers. I smooth my evening gloves on and stare out of the opposite window. I was looking forward to this so much. I’ve dreamed of going to a Hollywood premiere since I was twelve years old. Now I’m finally going to one and Rex is behaving like a spoilt child. It’s infuriating.
I feel like I should apologise but I’m not the one who did anything wrong. He should be apologising. But I’ve already lived with him long enough to know that won’t happen.
* * *
Searchlights arc across the sky as we drive down Hollywood Boulevard. I tense as cold fingers of fear walk down my spine. Lights like that were used during the war to spot German aircraft. I remember them lighting up the night sky as we dashed to the Andersen shelter before the Sheffield Blitz.
My breath catches; my chest feels too tight. I put a hand on my breastbone and take a deep, steadying breath. This is Hollywood. No bombs here.
Moments later, we’re pulling up outside the cinema. The marquee has Rex’s name on it. There are throngs of people waiting, shouting and screaming for the stars walking the red carpet. Closer to the cinema doors will be photographers, reporters and radio people as the whole thing is being broadcast live on KHJ.
I’ve been told that I have to wait for Rex to walk around the car and open the door for me. He gets out without a word. I sit there, clutching my wrap as my heart pounds in my chest. The door opens and the noise hits me in a deafening roar. Rex offers me his hand and I clasp it tightly as I get out of the car, knees together as the deportment teacher drilled into me. Suddenly, I’m standing on the red carpet and everyone is staring at me. A thousand pairs of eyes are turned my way. My stomach roils. Flash bulbs go off again and again. I blink.
Rex grips my waist. ‘You have to fucking smile,’ he whispers against my ear.
I paint on my brightest smile. ‘Keep it up,’ he murmurs as we walk towards the entrance. I’m trying to glide as I’ve been told to. My petticoats rustle around me.
Part of my brain is stunned that it’s my feet on the red carpet, that I’m finally at a movie premiere. Another other part of me is overwhelmed by the noise, the attention, the lights.
People call Rex’s name. He drops my arm and goes over to a bobbysoxer, pressed up against the railings that keep the crowds back. She looks as if she’s about to faint at the sight of him. I stand, stranded for a moment, and then join him. He puts his arm out to shepherd me forward. Rex is utterly charming to everyone he speaks to. He sounds exactly like he did in all those interviews I read before we met. No one would dream he didn’t say a word on the way here.
As we reach the photographers, my hands are clammy beneath my gloves. Rex poses with a casual elegance I envy. I feel stiff, trying to remember to keep my bust out and my bottom in as I’ve been told. Even as my photograph is taken again and again, I feel invisible. It’s Audrey Trent, movie star’s wife, that they’re snapping. No one sees the real me who’s quaking behind her lipstick smile.
‘Will the newlyweds give us a kiss?’ one of the photographers shouts. I stare wide-eyed at Rex. We faked a kiss for the cameras on our wedding day but that was only one photographer. It feels much more exposing with cameras surrounding us from every angle. I close my eyes and raise my face. His lips brush mine and I feel nothing except the glare of a dozen flash bulbs going off.
* * *
After that, there’s a lot of waiting about as Rex is interviewed by the various journalists in attendance. My feet ache in my kitten heels as I make desultory conversation with the wives of other stars in attendance. Do they know that our marriage is fake? Is that why they seem distant with me? Or would they treat anyone like this until they’ve found their place in the set?
Finally, Rex returns but only to say he’s going backstage and will join me on the front row after Harry King has introduced him. As I walk down the aisle of the auditorium, I can’t stop myself from scanning the crowd for Jack. I want to see him and yet I don’t know how I’ll face him. He knows the truth about Rex and he’s got to have been surprised by our marriage. But he’s not there. I’m both relieved and disappointed by that.
Harry King is first on the stage to introduce the film. Each of the stars makes a brief speech. Rex talks about how much he loved being in France for filming and what a joy it is to work with such a talented crew.
When he walks down the steps from the stage and takes his seat next to me, there is a thrill of pride. I’m sitting on the front row for a movie premiere. If only Father and Freddie could see me now!
The film is magnificent. It’s beautifully shot with the French landscape making a wonderful backdrop. Rex finds a vulnerability in Aramis’s swagger which I’m sure will win him many more female fans. None of them will know in reality, he’s thoughtless and selfish and drinks far too much.
When the house lights come up, Rex is instantly surrounded by people, all wanting to congratulate him on his performance.
Evelyn King, Harry’s wife, takes my arm and says, ‘Come, my dear. If I know actors, he’ll be a while yet. You might as well take a few moments to freshen up.’
After I’ve used the ladies’ room, we wait in the foyer. Jack comes down the steps from the mezzanine. He looks very debonaire in his dinner jacket with his hair slicked back. A little shiver goes through me. He’s having an intense conversation with a stunning redhead in a cream sheath dress. My heart squeezes when I see him. He doesn’t look round, doesn’t see me. Why would he when he’s talking to a girl as beautiful as that?
I have no right to be jealous. I’m married to someone else but the red-hot coals in my stomach tell a different story. I watch them leave together and I already know that whoever she is, I do not like her.
‘Does everyone from the cast and crew go to the party?’ I ask Evelyn.
‘The invitation is open to everyone who worked on the film. The stars are always last to arrive, though. They always get a round of applause as they come in.’
Rex will absolutely love that! My husband thrives on adoration. It’s as necessary to him as oxygen. Tonight is manna for him. Yet the reality of a premiere is a lot less dreamy than I thought it’d be.
* * *
The Cocoanut Grove is a legendary Hollywood nightspot with Moorish arches, papier-maché palm trees and a ceiling painted to resemble the night sky. The band is playing ‘Nice Work If You Can Get It’ but it’s almost drowned out by the thunder of applause as Rex walks in beside me. Everyone is on their feet. He beams that thousand-watt smile. Next to him, I feel invisible. No one is here to see me.
Abruptly, it feels like being a child again. I was expected to behave impeccably as the Minister’s daughter. My smile falters as I feel the pull of the past. Father glaring at me from the pulpit if I dared to yawn or fidget during his sermon. Rex doesn’t notice. He’s caught up in the moment. I don’t begrudge him it but I’d like to sit down somewhere quiet and just have a moment to myself.
Then I feel eyes on me. I look round and find Jack. He’s at a table one row back. His gaze locks with mine. He doesn’t smile and neither do I but I feel the intensity of his stare all the way from the crown of my head to my toes.
* * *
There’s a three-course meal but I barely manage a mouthful. I’m far too wound up. I listen to Rex and laugh at his jokes. I make polite conversation with Evelyn King, who’s sitting on my left, but my mind is across the other side of the club. Is Jack sitting with the stunning redhead? Are they flirting over the lemon cheesecake? I want to know and yet I’m terrified to find out if my suspicions are true. He’s every right to find someone else. Yet I hate the idea of it.
I dance with Rex and on the way back to the table, he’s waylaid by a colleague who slaps him on the back. Rex doesn’t introduce me. I return to the table, grab my bag and head to the powder room. I feel as if I’ve been stared at all evening, judged and weighed to see if I make the grade as the movie star’s wife. I need to a moment to catch my breath.
Of course, the powder room is full of chattering women. Repressing a sigh, I reapply my lipstick and then head back towards the party. A hand shoots out to halt me. It’s Jack. I stare at him. His gaze is fixed on my feet. My heart pounds high in my chest. Can he not even bring himself to look at me?
‘I guess congratulations are in order,’ he says in a tight voice.
‘It’s not what you think,’ I blurt out. ‘There were reasons.’
There’s a ghastly silence between us. People push past us, the band plays on but Jack and I are marooned in this smothered tension.
Then he grabs my hand and pulls me into the shadow of one of the Moorish arches. My body reacts with a zip of awareness at his touch.
‘What possible reason can there be to marry a man who’ll never love you?’ he hisses at me.
‘He was in trouble. A journalist found out his secret.’ With Jack, I don’t have to lie. There’s an immense relief in that. Keeping up the pretence for Ginny and Rita and in my letters to Esther is exhausting.
‘Which made a hasty marriage essential.’ Jack blows out a long breath and then raises his head to looks at me. The zing I feel is dampened by the distrust in his eyes. What must he think of me? ‘Okay, but why’d you agree to it?’
Does he believe I’m a money-grubbing hussy who married Rex for a life of luxury? I can’t bear him to think that badly of me and my words trip over themselves as I say, ‘Because I had visa troubles and marrying Rex got me a Green Card.’
Deep frown lines appear between Jack’s eyes. ‘What kind of troubles?’
I look down, fiddle with the clasp of my evening bag. ‘I had a friend, Freddie.’ It feels strange saying his name in these surroundings, he would have loved The Cocoanut Grove. ‘Back in England who was a rising star in the Communist Party. When the INS wanted to interview me before they renewed my visa, I thought they’d found out about him.’
Jack stares at me for a long moment. I hold his gaze because I have to. He must see I’ve nothing to hide. ‘Is Rex treating you right?’ he asks.
My head drops and I hesitate. I don’t mean to. I’m just working out how to lie. But Jack spots it.
‘If he isn’t, you can leave.’ He takes my hand, ducks his head to look at my face.
‘It’s not that bad,’ I say hastily. His touch is as welcome as rain in a desert. I am starved of touch. ‘It’s just that he drinks.’
‘We know!’ Jack laughs wryly. ‘Catering keep a vat of coffee on standby for Rex’s hangovers.’
His frankness hits me in the gut, undoing all of my lies and pretences. Tears prickle behind my eyes. ‘I can’t get him to stop. I try but he just won’t listen.’
‘It’s not your job, you hear?’ Jack squeezes my hand. ‘Only Rex is responsible for that.’
I blink to try to stop the tears from falling. It doesn’t work. They cascade out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I fumble in my bag, looking for a handkerchief.
‘Here.’ Jack presses a perfectly laundered white square into my free hand. I’m dabbing at my eyes when an arch female voice says, ‘So this is where you’re hiding, Audrey. Rex has been looking all over for you.’
Jack drops my hand. My heart races as I step away from him. Who is this woman? What is she going to think finding me crying in a corner with a man who’s not my husband?
‘Mrs Seton.’ Jack steps in front of me. ‘The costumes in The Three Musketeers were incredible. You must be very proud.’
She must be the costume mistress then. I use the distraction to mop the remaining tears and stuff Jack’s handkerchief in my evening bag.
Mrs Seton pats her tightly permed, grey hair. She’s a matronly lady with a bust like a shelf, wearing an emerald-green cocktail dress. ‘Well, thank you, Jack. That’s always nice to hear.’
I lift my chin and step out from behind Jack. The longer I loiter, the more she’ll think I’ve something to hide. Her sharp gaze switches to my face, assessing the smudges in my make-up. ‘Thank you for coming to find me.’ Though why I’m thanking the busybody I don’t know. She’s enjoying this far too much. ‘Where did you say Rex was?’
‘By the bar, dear. I’ll take you over.’
She captures my arm and I have no choice but to walk with her. I feel as if I’m shrinking as I cross the dancefloor, becoming once again only the beautiful frock and perfectly coiffured hair.
‘Jack Sorenson’s a handsome lad,’ Mrs Seton says. ‘A girl could lose her head over those eyes of his.’
She’s warning me off. How dare she? The rest of Crown know Rex’s secret so she must too. I won’t deny the attraction between us but Jack and I are only friends. ‘A girl might,’ I say firmly. ‘However, I’m a married woman.’
She pats my hand. ‘Very good, dear. I hope you don’t mind me having a little word. I always find a stitch in time saves nine.’
Quite what that means, I don’t have time to ponder. Rex sees me. His face is red, his eyes bloodshot. Mrs Seton hands me over to him as if I’m a mislaid parcel.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he slurs in my ear. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
‘No.’ I force a smile. ‘Not lost.’
With Jack, I feel more found than I’ve done in years. He alone in this place sees the real me. To everyone else, I’m Mrs Rex Trent but Jack sees Audrey.