Chapter 10 chapter Ten

There is a knock at the door. Come in, Julia said. Evie walks in. Won't you sleep a little to-day, Miss Lambert?She saw Julia sitting on the floor surrounded by stacks of photographs.What are you doing? dreaming.She picked up two of those pictures.Look here, this one, and that one. One is a still of Michael in the prime of his youth as Mercutio, and the other is Michael in his most recent role, wearing a white top hat, morning coat, and a telescope slung over his shoulder.His air of self-satisfaction is unimaginable. Evie blew his nose. oh.Come on, it is useless to regret what has been lost.

I was thinking about the past, and the more I thought about it, the more boring it became. I am not surprised.When you start thinking about the past, it means you can't see the future, doesn't it? Shut your mouth, you old cow, said Julia, who would be very vulgar if she were vulgar. Go to bed, or you won't be able to do anything tonight.I'm going to collect the photos that are spread all over the floor. Evie was Julia's dressmaker and her maid.She had first come to her at Middlepool, and followed her to London.She was a Cockney, a thin, slovenly, bony woman, with red hair that was always fluffy and always seemed to need a good wash; two front teeth were missing, but despite Julia's repeated offers over the years to pay for them to be fitted. New ones, she just doesn't want them.

I have limited food, and this mouthful of teeth can handle it as much as I can.Having lots of elephant tusks in my mouth just makes me restless. Michael had long wanted Julia to have a maid who at least looked more befitting of their station, and he had tried to get Evie to admit that she was no longer capable of these jobs, but Evie wouldn't listen to him. You may say what you like, Mr. Gosling, but as long as I am healthy and strong, no one will be Miss Lambert's maid. We're all getting old, you know, Evie.We are not as young as we used to be. Evie wiped the bottom of his nostrils with his index finger and blew his nose.

As long as Miss Lambert is young enough to play a woman of twenty-five, I am young enough to dress her.And be her maid.Evie shot him a sharp look.You can do the job well for one wage, why pay two? Michael chuckled lightly with delight. There is some truth in that, Evie dear. She urged Julia upstairs.On days when there was no matinee, Julia would take a two-hour nap in the afternoon, followed by a little massage.She took off her clothes now and got into the middle of the bedding. Heck, my hot water bottle is almost freezing. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.No wonder.The hot water bottle must have been placed in the quilt for an hour.She also realized how long she had been in Michael's room, looking at the pictures and thinking about the past.

Forty-six years old.Forty-six years old.Forty-six years old.I'm going to retire at sixty.At the age of fifty-eight, he performed in South America and Australia.Michael said we could make a fortune there.Twenty thousand pounds.I can reprise all my old roles.Of course, even at sixty, I can play a forty-five-year-old woman.But where do these characters come from?Those bastard playwrights. She wondered which play had a first-rate role for a woman of forty-five, and fell asleep.She was in a deep sleep until Evie came to wake her up because the masseuse had arrived.Evie brought the evening paper, and Julia stripped naked to let the masseuse rub her slender legs and belly, while she put on her glasses, and read the same drama news she had read in the morning, with gossip columns and women's pages.

After a while, Michael came in and sat down beside her bed.He often came to chat with her at this time. Hey, what's his name?Julia asked. who? The kid who just came to eat. I can't pronounce his name.I drove him back to the theater.I never thought of him again. The masseur, Miss Phillips, likes Michael.You are very comfortable with him.He always said something like this, and you knew exactly what to answer.He has no airs.And rare beautiful.Good guy! Hello, Miss Phillips, is she losing weight well? Oh, Mr. Gosling, Miss Lambert doesn't have a tad of fat on her body.I think her slender figure is held up too well.

It's a pity I can't ask you to give me a massage, Miss Phillips.You must be able to help me keep me in shape too. What did you say, Mr. Gosling.Look, you're still in the shape of a twenty-year-old.I don't know how you maintain it, honestly, I don't. Simple living and brainy, Miss Phillips. Julia was not listening to what they were saying, but Miss Phillips' answer caught her ear. Of course nothing beats a massage, I always say that, but you have to watch your diet too.That is absolutely certain. diet!she thinks.When I'm sixty, I'm going to eat my heart out.I will try to eat my favorite bread and butter.I want hot rolls for breakfast, potatoes for lunch, potatoes for dinner, and beer.God, how I love beer and pea and tomato soup; molasses pudding and cherry pie.Cream, cream, cream.Ah, for God's sake, I'll die without ever wanting to eat spinach again.

After the massage, Ivie brought her a cup of tea, a slice of ham with the fat cut off, and some slices of clear toast.Julia got up and dressed, and went downstairs with Michael to the theater.She likes to be there an hour before the opening bell.Michael kept going, driving to his club for dinner.Evie arrived before her by taxi, so when Julia entered the dressing room everything was ready for her.She took off her clothes again and put on a dressing gown.She sat down at the dressing table to put on her makeup and found some flowers in a vase. hello, who sent it?Is that Mrs. de Vries? Dolly called the florist on her first night, her hundredth night, and her 200th night (if she could) and whenever she ordered flowers for her home. Send some to Julia.

no miss. Lord Charles? Charles.Lord Tamerly was Julia's oldest and most devoted admirer, and he used to linger in flower shops as he passed, and ask them to send her roses. Here are the cards, Evie said. Julia looked over.Thomas.Mr Fennall.Tavistock Square. Live in that kind of place.What do you think he is, Evie? . Probably a guy who is fascinated by your deadly beauty, I think. These cost at least a pound.Tavistock Square doesn't look very rich to me.Maybe he didn't have a good meal a week just to buy these few flowers. I don't think so. Julia was painting her face.

Damn it, you're not romantic at all, Evie.Just because I'm not a showgirl, you don't understand why anyone would send me flowers.God knows, my thighs are prettier than how many showgirls'. Beautiful people and thighs, Evie said. Well, I might as well tell you that at my age, I don't think it hurts to have flowers from strangers.i mean this is just for you to see If he saw you like this, he wouldn't send you flowers If I knew anything about men, I'm sure they never would. Fuck you, Julia said. Yet after Evie had made her up to her satisfaction and put her socks and shoes on, with a few minutes to spare, she sat down at her desk and wrote an impassioned letter in her rough, rough handwriting. Text Thomas.Mr. Fennall, thank you for the beautiful flowers.She is naturally polite, and she has a principle: reply to all letters from fans.That's how she connects with the audience.After writing the envelope, she casually threw the card into the wastebasket, ready to put on the costume for the first act.The rusher came over and knocked on the door of the dressing room a few times.

Opening actors, please. These words, although God knows how many times she had heard them, still excited her.They were like a tonic, bolstering her courage.Life takes on meaning.From this false world she will step into a real world.