Tom Has Been There Before
Of course the letter was a vicious invention. Unless … she vividly remembered coming into the flat that afternoon when Miles had been rehearsing with Cyril. The boy had been in tears. Miles had put his arm round him to escort him to the hall. Could that – or some other gesture of comforting kindness, occurring before she came in – have been misconstrued, and its significance further exaggerated by the brother, that black streak she had seen at the stage door?
She read the letter again. It didn’t read like an invention. Perhaps the little idiot had misunderstood, really felt justified … No. Nothing justified blackmail. And if the Digby brothers could blackmail, they could invent the reason.
What the hell was she to do? Ironically, had Cyril merely written a begging letter she would have sent him, well, say twenty pounds, knowing that Miles would wish her to. He rarely refused a loan (which almost always proved to be a gift) to a fellow professional; and he had, of course, shown Cyril special kindness. But she couldn’t send money now. One couldn’t be blackmailed. Perhaps she ought to go straight to the police. No, not while Miles was away – and she didn’t even know in which country.
Could she get advice? Suppose she told Geoffrey? It would be a relief but somehow a betrayal of Miles – though would it, when Miles was utterly innocent? Perhaps she feared Geoffrey would not believe that.
Suppose she told no one – and did nothing? It was now Wednesday. Someone would go to the pub on Friday evening to meet Miles and Miles would not be there. But surely Cyril and his brother would not then rush to the police, thus losing their chance of ever getting any money? Unless – There was a sentence in the letter … she found it. ‘And he thinks I should go to the police and you would have to pay me damages.’ Nonsense, surely, but the Digby brothers might believe it. And if they did go to the police, if they accused Miles … Even if he cleared himself – and how could he clear himself? It would simply be his word against Cyril’s.
Should she go to the pub herself and hope whoever came might know her by sight and make contact with her? She could explain that Miles was away, offer to tide Cyril over with a little money. No. It would be tantamount to admitting …
Get advice from someone she simply must. And it now struck her that Tom Albion was the obvious person. As Miles’s agent he would be vitally concerned in protecting Miles’s reputation, and he was, too, their very good friend. Also it was just conceivable that Miles might have left, say, some poste restante address with him in case of some business emergency. Yes, of course she must talk to Tom – and please God he was in London.
She rang the agency and was put through to him. Cutting through his pleasant greeting she said she needed to see him urgently. ‘Can I come at once?’
He said, ‘Of course,’ without an instant’s hesitation. She was grateful for that.
In the taxi she had qualms. Ought she to show the letter even to Tom? Suppose he believed Cyril’s accusation? But he wouldn’t – no one who knew Miles would. He’d probably laugh at her fears, say the whole thing was impertinent bluff. She felt a warmth of reassurance even as she climbed the once beautiful old staircase that led to his ramshackle premises. He was always saying he must move out of Soho but she doubted if he ever would unless the house fell down on him – and it rather looked as if it might. Entering the agency she had affectionate memories of conferences punctuated by the entrances of secretaries bearing strong cups of tea, with slices of heavy fruit cake which acquired added heaviness from slopped saucers.
One such cup of tea, with its attendant cake, accompanied her into Tom’s office today. Settling her into an armchair facing his desk, he asked if she’d rather have a drink.
‘No, thanks. Your office tea’s practically as good as a drink.’ She smiled at the departing secretary, then thanked Tom for seeing her at once.
‘In all the years we’ve known each other you’ve never before asked to see me urgently. And you sounded worried. What is it, love?’
She noticed that his Lancashire accent was well to the fore, as it usually was when he wanted to be particularly kind. He was the son of a once-famous music hall comedian and his personality, like his office, retained the aura of a long-vanished theatrical world – which did not prevent him from being a shrewd, and even hard, businessman.
‘Oh, it’s probably a lot of nonsense,’ she said. ‘Just me staging a panic. But first, have you any way of getting in touch with Miles?’
‘I only know he’s gone abroad. He rang me up to say so, on Sunday. For once, I made a point of asking where he’d be – because of the film – but he said he didn’t know. He finally said he’d try to ring me, next Sunday.’
‘We’ll have to decide something before then – by Friday night, actually. But you’ll probably say, do nothing at all.’ She took the letter from her bag and handed it over, determinedly smiling. ‘You’ll see what rubbish it is. It’s just that – with Miles away –’
‘Drink your tea, love,’ said Tom.
‘You’ll find it difficult to read.’
She watched him while he read. His pudgy features were not expressive but it was only a few seconds before he said, ‘Oh, my God,’ in a tone which left her in no doubt that he was taking the letter seriously. He then read on in silence and it seemed to her that he took an interminable time. Even when he raised his eyes to hers, he did not at once speak. But the pudgy features were now expressive enough. It was as if the mask of comedy was attempting to be the mask of tragedy. At last he said, ‘Miles, of all people.’
‘But it’s not true. Surely you don’t believe –’
He said hastily, ‘I only meant that it’s fantastically awful that this should happen to Miles. God blast the lousy child.’
‘Is he a child? What does he mean when he says that Miles knew how young he is? Miles told me he was eighteen.’
‘I’ll tell you all I know about that – and I think I got the truth out of the little bastard when he came here last week. He started rehearsals saying he was fifteen, and therefore didn’t need a licence. Peter Hesper began to think he was younger and told him to bring a birth certificate – which he did, and it said he was eighteen, but it was his brother’s birth certificate. The name on it was Douglas Digby, not Cyril Digby, but he bluffed Peter into believing that Douglas was really his name. Then the boy got frightened and told Miles the truth – I gather that was just before the show opened in London. He said he was going to be fifteen in a week’s time, and then everything would be all right. And if a licence had to be got at the last minute, the show might have to be postponed. So in the end, Miles said he’d keep the secret.’
‘Did the boy tell you this, or did Miles?’
‘I got it out of the boy first and then Miles confirmed it. I told him he was a fool to have involved himself in a conspiracy with the ghastly kid, but he said Cyril was in tears and in a state of nerves because Peter had been bullying him, and if there’d been any more trouble the boy wouldn’t have been able to open at all. And what did it matter if he played for just one week without a licence? Anyway, there was no point in fussing about it as the damn play was now off. So that was that.’
‘Then Cyril’s really fifteen?’
‘Search me. He may still be lying. He could pass for ten or eleven. And one thing’s ominous. I told him I wouldn’t even have his name on my books unless he brought me his own, genuine birth certificate. That was ten days ago and he still hasn’t brought it. So he’s probably younger than fifteen.’
‘I wonder if Cyril confessed about the birth certificate that day they rehearsed at the flat. Afterwards, when I told Miles to get his mind off Cyril’s troubles, he said, “You don’t know the half of them.”’
Tom looked suddenly relieved. ‘Then you were in the flat?’
‘Only as Cyril was leaving – in tears, incidentally, which would fit with his just having confessed to Miles.’
‘Try to remember anything either of them said.’
On
ly odd snatches of conversation came back to her. ‘Miles said Cyril had had a difficult morning, but everything would be all right – something like that. And Cyril said, when they were out in the hall, “1 swear I won’t let you down.” Incidentally, Miles’s manner was fairly brusque. I was a bit surprised because you know how kind-hearted Miles is. But no doubt he was trying to buck Cyril up – he said afterwards, “The boy’s a mass of self-pity.” And he had, of course, been wonderfully kind to him up till then.’
‘Quite abnormally kind.’
She looked at him indignantly. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I simply meant especially kind.’
But she didn’t believe him. Nothing he had said, since his utter dismay on reading the letter, had made her feel he had complete faith in Miles. She said now, ‘I’d like the truth, Tom. If you’ve any doubts at all …’
He was silent too long for her liking. Then he said:
‘Jill, if anyone told me that Miles had done something dishonest, mean, or even been spiteful, I’d stake my reputation it wasn’t true. But as regards this accusation – oh, for God’s sake don’t think I believe Miles is guilty but we can help him best by facing the fact that he conceivably is.’
‘I shan’t,’ said Jill. ‘But I’ve already faced the fact that Cyril might have, well, misconstrued something.’
‘I doubt that. Cyril’s no innocent. Either the accusation’s true, or the letter’s such a clever fraud that I can’t believe the boys capable of having invented it. Perhaps the brother is, but even that’s not easy to accept.’
‘You find it easier to accept Miles’s guilt,’ said Jill, coldly. ‘How strange. I felt so sure you’d be a tower of strength.’
‘Well, damn it, so I will – anyway, I’ll do my best to be, and whether Miles is guilty or innocent. And I swear I’m not taking it for granted he’s guilty. It’s just that … Listen, love. Even my perfectly normal clients are pretty unpredictable as regards anything to do with sex, but when it comes to my homosexuals –! About a fifth of my male clients are homosexual, including my four most important ones, of whom Miles is the most important. The general average of decency – in matters that affect me – is just about the same as with my normal clients. Of my four stars, two are pleasant, reasonable chaps, one’s a right bastard, and Miles is just about the kindest, most likeable man I’ve ever met. But I don’t know what makes any of them tick. I just don’t understand homosexuality. I don’t condemn it. I merely find it beyond my comprehension, and simply accept the fact that a fifth of the men who enable me to earn a living have feelings utterly alien to my own. And I also accept that I never know what they’ll be up to next. That’s why, with all my respect, admiration and affection for Miles, I can’t feel one hundred percent certain he’s innocent. Incidentally, this is not the first blackmailing letter I’ve read sitting at this desk. And, in every case but one, my client was guilty of what he was accused.’
‘Were you able to help them?’
‘Only to the extent of getting them the best legal advice – which was to pay up. Even the man who was innocent.’
‘But that’s fantastic. Surely if an innocent man goes to the police –’
‘He was innocent of what his blackmailer accused him, but he was a homosexual. If he’d gone to the police, too much would have come out. There are limits to what the police will turn a blind eye on.’
‘But surely the law’s going to be changed –’
‘It’ll be more severe, not less, as regards what Miles is accused of,’ said Tom grimly. ‘I don’t think you’ve quite taken it in, Jill. He could possibly survive an ordinary homosexual scandal, but not this, not an offence against a child. Anyway, he might get a heavy jail sentence.’
‘But he’s innocent, Tom.’
‘You go on believing that, love – and I’ll do my level best to. And I do find it hard to think that he could have been attracted by that horrid lad. Hardly Miles’s type, would you say?’
‘I don’t know much about that, Tom.’ She felt vaguely ashamed to admit it. ‘Miles has become more and more reticent.’
‘Do you know who’s with him now? I take it someone is?’
‘I imagine so. But he didn’t give me the slightest hint – just told me, late on Saturday night, that he was going, and went on Sunday.’
Tom was looking at her closely. ‘You’re an odd couple. I know half a dozen married homosexuals – though a couple of them are bisexual; their wives just wait their turn, more or less philosophically. The other wives are motherly, or plain cynical and having a good time on their own. But you and Miles … I’ve always felt you’re merely devoted friends. Not that there’s anything mere about devoted friendship.’
‘It’s been more than that, Tom. It’s been love. There can be love without any sexual feeling.’
‘Between a man and a woman? Well, different people mean different things by love. Anyway, I can take it you’ll stand by him now, whatever happens?’
She hesitated only a couple of seconds before saying, ‘Of course.’ But in those seconds she knew how fully she had accepted that her life with Miles was over. Could she stand by him now?
Tom had noticed the hesitation. ‘Funny. I didn’t think you’d have any doubts.’
‘I haven’t. Of course I haven’t. Of course I must stand by him.’
‘Must? Listen, Jill, this is important. Even if you’re not as sure of his innocence as you say you are –’
‘But I am. It’s got nothing to do with that.’
‘What hasn’t?’
‘Don’t fire questions at me. I’ve told you I’ll stand by him and I will. Just leave it at that.’
‘Like hell I will,’ said Tom. ‘Before I get legal advice I need to be dead sure of your attitude. It’s one of the first things I shall be asked. And you’re holding out on me about something. Now come on, love.’
It was a relief to tell him. And as she did so, his whole manner changed. She found he was offering her all the understanding and reassurance she had counted on getting from him about Miles.
She told him the bare facts and he asked for little elaboration though, whenever she paused, he helped her on with some sympathetic question. At last she concluded, ‘Well, there it is. I promised Geoffrey – only last night – but he won’t, surely, hold me to that now.’
‘He ought to,’ said Tom. ‘He ought to drag you out of this mess before you’re completely involved. Of course as Miles’s agent I ought to put his interests first and work up your loyalty. But you’re a normal woman, Jill. Anyway, you were once. Since you married you’ve been living in a state of suspended animation. Get out, love. And I bet you Miles will say the same – it’s odd I can feel so sure of that when I can’t feel dead sure he’s innocent.’
She said with deliberation, ‘If Geoffrey will agree, I shan’t let Miles know I’ve given a thought to another man. Not until this horrible thing blows over.’
‘If it ever does. As I see it, Miles will either pay up and go on paying, or else he’ll fight and probably get involved in some disastrous case. Anyway, I’ll talk to my solicitor tomorrow. And perhaps your boy friend can give some helpful advice. You did say he was a barrister?’
She nodded assent. ‘Funny you didn’t meet him that night at the Civic Reception.’
‘I didn’t go to it, remember? I drove back to London as soon as the curtain came down on the play. Even then Miles was a bit obsessed by that boy.’
‘Blast you, Tom.’
‘All right, all right. But he was. When will you see Thornton?’
‘Tonight, God help me. The girls will be expecting me now.’
‘You’ll keep this from them?’
‘Of course. But I must show Geoffrey the letter.’ She held out her hand for it.
‘I’ll need to copy it for my solicitor. Don’t worry, I’ll leave out anything that might identify Miles. You’d better have a drink, love – you’ve got a difficult evening ahead of you. Just help yo
urself.’
Well, as it was unlikely that any stimulant would be pressed on her at the Thorntons’ … She said, ‘Thanks, Tom,’ and from his drinks table looked back at him and thought how unexpected his reactions had been. He had increased, not calmed, her fears. And though she knew he would do everything in his power to help, she felt he was basically unsympathetic towards Miles’s homosexuality. She was equally surprised by the warmth of his sympathy with her, personally. Up to now she had taken it for granted that he considered her as simply an adjunct to Miles.
He finished copying the letter, then looked up and smiled. ‘No use telling you not to worry, but you might try counting your blessings. You’ve quite a distinguished man who wants to marry you, and a husband who will, almost certainly, put your interests before his own.’
‘I can’t let him.’
‘That’ll depend on how much you’re in love – and on Geoffrey Thornton, of course.’
‘Tom – oh, perhaps you can’t say until you’ve spoken to the solicitor, but is there anything we ought to do? Go to that pub, try to spot who’s waiting for Miles? Perhaps go to Cyril, try to reason with him?’
‘We can do nothing until we’ve talked to Miles – and please heaven he does telephone me at the weekend. Then he must come home – unless …’
‘Unless what?’
‘If he’s guilty, he might do well to stay where he is.’
‘What, for the rest of his life?’
‘God, I don’t know. We’re trying to work in the dark. Finish your drink, love, and let me clear you out. I’ve all my letters to sign.’
He saw her through the outer office and to the staircase, promising to ring her next day, ‘Probably about noon.’
‘I’ll wait in till you ring. Bless you, Tom, dear.’
Hurrying out into the late afternoon sunlight, she found the narrow street congested with traffic; no hope of getting a taxi. This extraordinary, stirred-with-a-stick neighbourhood; she had known it well in her impoverished youth, often shopped in Berwick Market. But since then the atmosphere had become even more raffish: sinister, really. Dimly she remembered that Cyril, very suitably, lived in Soho. How did she know that? Presumably Miles had told her, in the days when he talked so much of Cyril. It almost had amounted to an obsession. Oh, God, she was as bad as Tom.