Page 33 of The Lavender Bride

32

‘Mrs Trent.’ Trudie hovers by my bedroom door, surveying the organised chaos of boxes and cases that surround me.

I told her on Saturday morning that I’m leaving. There was a long and painful pause, then she nodded once and said, ‘Very good, ma’am.’ Since then, she’s pretty much left me to it, which avoids any more awkwardness between us.

‘Yes?’

‘Dirk Stone is here to see you.’

Dread settles like a rock in my stomach. ‘Did he say why?’

It’s Tuesday afternoon. I spent the weekend packing. Yesterday morning, I telephoned the lawyer Ginny’s dad recommended and I have an appointment with him tomorrow afternoon in Pasadena.

‘Only that it’s urgent,’ Trudie says.

I sigh heavily and then shake my head. Dirk has been behind everything else in our marriage. I should have guessed Rex would wheel him in now. But if it’s a last-ditch attempt to keep us together then he’s had a wasted trip.

‘Very well.’ I look down at my white blouse which is streaked in dust. ‘Put him in the dining room. Make him some coffee and tell him I’ll be down in two minutes.’

As the door closes behind her, I hastily undo the buttons of my blouse and throw on one of the three which remain hanging in the wardrobe. It’s butter-yellow silk with a Peter Pan collar. I smooth the creases from my navy circle skirt, change into matching ballerina pumps and apply lipstick. I nod at my reflection. Ready for battle.

There’s a tingling sensation in my chest as I walk down the spiral staircase. I suck in a deep breath, square my shoulders and cross the hall.

‘Audrey. Always a pleasure,’ Dirk says as I enter the room.

‘Don’t give me that, Dirk. Why are you here?’ I take the seat diagonally opposite him. He’s got his briefcase in front of him, lying flat on the table. A cup of coffee by his elbow. He takes his cigarette case from his pocket. ‘Mind if I?’

‘Yes, I do. Go outside if you want to smoke.’

‘Aren’t we uppity today?’ Dirk shoots me a look which is hard to read and then pops a mint ball in his mouth. ‘Rex told me about your little tantrum.’

Cold swirls in my belly. My hands form fists, my nails pressing into my skin. Then I force myself to take a breath. This is what Father used to do. Insult me. Call me names. Until my head spun and I couldn’t think straight. ‘Call it what you like. I’m still leaving.’

Dirk pushes his briefcase to one side and leans across the table, his hand stretched towards me. ‘What would it take to make you stay?’

‘Nothing is going to make me?—’

‘What if we increased your allowance? Say, another hundred bucks a month?’

That’s a lot of money. If that was all I cared about, it might be enough. But as I told Rex, money isn’t everything. I cross my arms. ‘No.’

‘How about a vacation? All expenses paid. The Caribbean is nice this time of year. Or Europe. You could visit your family.’

They really do think I can be bought! My chin comes up. ‘No.’

‘You’re playing hardball, Audrey.’ Dirk grins as if this is all a game. ‘Last offer. A house by the beach. Your own place. Rex wouldn’t come near. You’d still attend public events with him but other than that, you’d live your own life.’ Dirk smiles confidentially at me. ‘Within limits, of course.’

Boy, they really must be desperate! But with Dirk, the conditions are just as important as the offer. I can guess what those limits would be. The same old rules which allow men to do what they like, while women remain pure and chaste. I scowl. ‘No.’

Dirk sits back in his seat. ‘That was the carrot.’ He takes two buff-coloured files from his briefcase and tosses them across the table to me. ‘These are the stick.’

The cold spirals out from my belly and lands in my chest, making my breath catch. Why didn’t I expect them to fight dirty? I worked for Dirk. I know the depths he’ll plummet to to get his own way.

‘I’ve done everything that was asked of me,’ I say hotly. ‘I’ve been the perfect fake wife. It’s Rex who’s blown everything by getting together with Tony and not caring who sees them. You cannot honestly expect me to sit quietly here while everyone finds out my husband is in love with another man? Louella and Hedda Hopper will tear me to shreds!’

Dirk picks up his cup. ‘Leave me to worry about Eyewitness and the gossip queens. Your job is to stand by the man you married.’

There’s a clear emphasis on the word job and it makes my jaw tense. ‘I’m not your secretary any more. You don’t get to order me about.’

‘Read the damn files and then tell me that.’ Dirk smooths his moustache. ‘I’ll wait.’

My stomach is a mass of nerves. What has he got up his sleeve? He’s calm but intent, like a predator stalking its prey. He thinks he’s got the trump card.

Well, whatever it is he can take a running jump! I take a deep breath and open the first file.

There’s a photo of Freddie. I gasp at the shock of seeing him again. Then I look at Dirk, my eyes wide. ‘Where did you get this?’

‘I got you checked out. Last year, before you married Rex. There had to be a reason why you were spooked by that appointment with the INS.’

I’m momentarily lost for words. I stare at him in dumb horror. Then the emotions start to pile up: betrayal, anger, fear.

‘How dare you?’ I spit the words at him.

‘I had to be sure you were a good investment.’ He shrugs. ‘I was only protecting our boy.’

‘Investment?’ My voice is high. ‘Is that all I am to you?’

There’s a painful tightness in my chest. I thought he liked me. Respected me even. He told me I was the best secretary he’d ever had. He gave me the watch on my wrist. Did none of that mean anything? I bite down on my bottom lip and blink furiously so he doesn’t see I’m close to tears.

‘It’s nothing personal, kid.’ Dirk’s sounds entirely reasonable, as if people treat each other like this every day. ‘I needed to be sure you weren’t a Red. It wasn’t going to help Rex any if you turned out to be a subversive now, was it?’

‘I trusted you,’ I say through the pain in my throat. The words fall like stones. Dirk looks momentarily confused as if it’s an emotion he’s not familiar with. I swallow hard before adding, ‘When I agreed to marry Rex, I thought we were all in on this together. That we were a team of sorts.’ My voice cracks on the word ‘team’ and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. ‘How can you turn on me like this just because I want out?’

Dirk doesn’t have to spell out what he intends to do with this file. I already know he’s going to use it to blackmail me into staying. The man who sold Ida Young down the river to protect Rex’s career (and the hefty income he gets from it) will have no scruples about threatening me. My vulnerability is my immigration status.

I have to get over the shock that he’s prepared to do this and work out what my next move is because I absolutely cannot let him win! I wish Jack was here. I need his steadying presence.

I look again at the photograph of Freddie. My vision blurs with unshed tears. I blink them away. My lost friend is speaking to a crowd of men in donkey jackets and overalls outside what look like factory gates. He’s a little older, he’s filled out from when I last saw him, his shoulders are broader, he’s grown into that square jaw. He’s gesturing as he speaks; a lock of hair has fallen across his forehead just as it always did. My heart squeezes with affection, regret and grief. If only things hadn’t ended as they did. I’ve missed him so much.

‘He left the Communist Party in 1950. He’s a Labour Party councillor now in a place called Finchley. Got a reputation as a rabble-rouser.’

I turn over and Freddie’s standing on a stage, addressing a crowd of people. It looks like a town hall. Freddie’s impassioned, gesturing wildly. I wish I could hear his words. I can tell from the hands waving programmes, the faces turned towards the camera, that he’s making an impression.

‘Greenwood teaches art at Archbishop Hutton’s School for Boys.’

He didn’t get his dream job designing sets then. I guess that was too much to hope after he had to leave university but I can imagine him teaching. He’d be passionate about it, committed to bringing the best out of his pupils.

‘He shares a flat with a Michael Grey. They’re flatmates to the outside world but you and I know they’re both queers.’

He sneers as he says the word and the prejudice is suddenly blindingly clear. He doesn’t like men like Rex and Freddie. He thinks he’s better than them. Can I use that? Can that get me out of this terrible situation?

‘You have no right to judge him. He’s twice the man you are,’ I manage to grind out through gritted teeth.

‘I doubt that.’ Dirk pops a mint ball in his mouth. ‘Clearly, you’re a fan of faggots but I doubt the headmaster at Archbishop Hutton’s will see it the same way. Unless you drop this ridiculous talk of divorce, this file lands on the headmaster’s desk and you can bet Fredrick will be out on his ear.’

I’m vibrating with anger now, my hands shaking, my heart pounding. ‘I’ve not seen Freddie in five years! You cannot drag him into this.’

Dirk shrugs. ‘I use what I’ve got, kid. You know that.’

I knot my shaking hands together in my lap. ‘How did you know about Freddie?’ I demand.

‘I’ve a man in London. Investigates when I need it. Runs errands for me. He dug it up and I asked him to look again after Rex rang me from Canada.’ Dirk leans back and folds his hands behind his head. ‘Now I’ll admit that it’s a bit thin at the moment. You’ve not seen Greenwood since ’47. It’s hard to make you out to be a subversive?—’

It’s what I’ve always feared. And Dirk, being the shark that he is, has smelt out my weakness. Because that’s what he does. He finds weaknesses and exploits them to get what he wants. Why didn’t I see it before? I worked with him, for heaven’s sake. Why did I think he’d treat me any differently?

Because you’re na?ve , a little voice says. Too trusting. Silly. Weak. But the words don’t hurt like they used to. Jack thinks I’m pretty special just as I am. And I’d rather be na?ve and trusting than a snake like Dirk!

‘Which was reassuring when I looked last year,’ Dirk continues. ‘But my man’s very creative. All it needs is a few letters, a report of telephone calls, some donations to the British Communist Party and we’ve got a file that the INS will be very interested to see.’

Fury and fear make me leap to my feet. I plant my hands on the table and lean towards him. ‘That’s fraudulent! You can’t just make things up!’

‘Oh, pipe down, kid. What’d you think the FBI’s been doing for the HUAC? Did you really believe they’d got evidence on all of those people who’ve been hauled before the Committee?’

I stare at him, cold seeping into every party of my body then I sit down heavily. ‘But that’s wrong !’

‘I put a lot of work into you and Rex. You think I’m going to let it go to waste?’

‘You’ve not lived with him.’ I hate how my voice wobbles. ‘You have no idea how impossible he is. He’s drunk all the time. He’s selfish and mean and sometimes even cruel.’ I point at the scar on the back of my hand. ‘He did this when he threw a plate at the wall above my head and I had bruises for weeks after Ginny’s wedding?—’

‘Yes, the wedding. Where your boyfriend,’ Dirk sneers, ‘gave my client a black eye. I knew something was going on when you didn’t tell me. Can you imagine what’d have happened if the papers had got hold of that story?’

My stomach plunges painfully. He knows about Jack? I look down as I blink away the shock. I take a breath and remember the way it felt when Jack stood up for me. I won’t have Dirk think badly of him. My chin comes up. ‘Jack was defending me against my drunken husband.’ I put both hands on the table and stare across it at Dirk. ‘Who you were entirely happy for me to marry even though you knew he drinks far too much.’ I throw my hands up. ‘For goodness’ sake, Dirk, you didn’t even warn me!’

‘You got your Green Card, didn’t you?’ He makes an impatient turning gesture with his index finger. My eyes narrow but I close the file on Freddie and open the second one.

It’s a list of dates with actions Jack allegedly took next to them. I feel queasy now, my head spinning. I force myself to focus and run my finger down the list.

Signed petition in support of Hollywood Ten.

Donated to Committee for the First Amendment.

‘Half of Hollywood did that!’ I protest. ‘The half with any decency.’

‘And look where it got them!’ Dirk snaps back. ‘Forced to recant like Bogart. Or blacklisted like Marsha Hunt.’

‘Jack wasn’t even in Hollywood in ’47!’

Dirk crosses his arms and raises a single eyebrow.

The list continues with conversations Jack is supposed to have had with unfriendly witnesses of the HUAC, occasions where he spoke out against the Committee, a fundraiser he allegedly attended to support striking workers, links to organisations accused of being fronts for Communism and that he attended a concert by The Weavers.

I recognise The Weavers from Jack’s list but I have no idea why they’re in this file. Is that the only nugget of truth in a bundle of lies or is Jack actually a Red? He’s told me he’s a Democrat and the HUAC have looked on some Democrats as pretty suspect. I think back to what Jack said when I told him about Freddie; something about Freddie being punished by having to stay with a bunch of Commies.

That doesn’t sound like a man who’s actually a Red. I have to trust that. What I definitely can’t do is let Dirk see my doubts. He’ll be onto that in no time and before I know it, he’ll be trying to convince me Jack is a drinking buddy of Khrushchev’s.

‘This is quick work.’ I twist my watch around my wrist. ‘Who told you?’

‘About Sorenson? I’ve had my eye on him since The Cocoanut Grove.’ Dirk pops another mint ball in his mouth. ‘I did a bit of digging. Always best to be prepared.’

My stomach plunges. That’s nearly a year ago. This isn’t something Dirk’s thrown together in a couple of days. He’s had his spies on Jack for months; that’s why this file goes back so far. That makes me even angrier. My teeth clench as I bite back the urge to scream at him. I want to tear the blooming thing to shreds but I’m absolutely certain he’s got a copy. I ran his filing system for too long to not expect that.

Dirk smooths his moustache again. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t put two and two together when you disappear in a snowstorm together?’

There’s someone at Chateau Lake Louise who’s feeding information to Dirk. No matter how careful we were, someone was monitoring our movements and that incenses me.

‘Who told you?’ I say through gritted teeth.

‘Mrs Seton.’

I shudder. That interfering busybody. I knew I didn’t like her!

Dirk sees my reaction and grins. ‘She’s a spy for the HUAC too. And if you don’t give up Sorenson, this file goes to the Committee and your young man can expect a visit from the FBI with a pink slip.’

I shiver; I know what comes after the pink slip. Jack will be required to appear before the HUAC and they’ll ask him one question: Are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party? Even if he says ‘No’, they’ll want him to name the names of those who have. And, if the information in the file is not a total fabrication, then he’ll know people who believe in trade unions and the right to strike, who want workers to be properly paid and not exploited. If he refuses to answer (and I already know him well enough to know he won’t incriminate others), he’ll be blacklisted. He’ll lose his career. He’ll never work in Hollywood again.

I cannot put him through that. The FBI investigation, the subpoena, being required to testify before the Committee and then losing the job he loves. Jack cannot be subjected to all of that because of me.

‘You are a weasel. A lying, conniving weasel.’ I lean across the table and hiss the words at Dirk. ‘I wish I’d never met you.’

‘Just doing my job.’ Dirk closes his briefcase with a snap. ‘You can keep the files. I’ve got copies. You’ve twenty-four hours to make your decision. If you don’t agree to give up this talk of divorce, the files go to the relevant authorities. You can wave goodbye to your Green Card and Sorenson can expect a visit from the Feds.’

He stands and, automatically, I mirror him, our chairs scraping against the marble floor. He grabs the handle of his briefcase and swings it off the table.

There has to be a way to prevent this. I know Rex’s secret. If I threatened to go to Eyewitness and the newspapers, would that make Dirk stop? Or?—

It comes back to me in a rush. The threat I threw at Rex when I asked him for a divorce.

‘I’ll tell Tony Young what you did to Ida.’ The words tumble out of me. ‘That you and Rex were the ones who ruined her career.’

Dirk laughs hollowly as he turns to look at me. ‘Go ahead, kid. You’d be doing me a favour.’

I stare at him, confusion swirling in my gut.

‘Young’s got to go. Rex will kick up a stink about it but it’s for his own good.’ Dirk shifts his briefcase into one hand and then crosses his arms. ‘That might have worked on Rex but you’re talking to the organ grinder now. Not the monkey.’

The image is spot on – Dirk turning the handle on the organ while Rex dances to the tune – then the sheer disrespect of it hits me.

‘Do you not care about him at all?’

Dirk moves to the door. ‘I care about the money he makes me. I invested a fortune in Rex. Because of him, I’ll be able to retire to Palm Springs. But only if I keep him earning.’ He nods. ‘Before close of business tomorrow. If you decide to leave anyway – and I don’t recommend it – the locks will be changed on this place and you’ll be escorted off the premises.’

My mouth drops open. ‘I agreed with Rex I could stay until he comes home.’

Dirk tilts his head and looks at me as if I’m a particularly slow pupil. Then he points at his chest. ‘Organ grinder. Whatever you decide, everything goes through me from now on.’

He opens the door and Muffin trots in. She takes one look at him, then goes down on her front paws and barks at him.

Dirk pointedly steps round her. ‘And if you go, you take the fucking dog.’