The Lady of Lyon House Read Free Page B

of their room as I passed, large, blonde women with painted faces and shrill voices. They wore green dresses spangled with blue sequins, and green and blue feathers in their hair. They waved at me, talking loudly as they clambered down the staircase I had just come up.
    My dressing room was very small, one tiny window looking down on the street below. It was cluttered with costumes in the process of being repaired, bright dresses hanging on the wall, a pile of feathers and beads on one chair. A stack of books was on the floor beside a cot, and a tiny stove perched in one corner, affording little heat. All the walls were damp, the plaster chipped, concentric brown moisture stains on the ceiling. This was my retreat, the one place where I felt secure and at ease. Tonight it gave me little comfort. I was on edge, and my head was throbbing.
    I sat down on the cot and took the puppets out of their long, flat red box. Many years ago Bill had given me a puppet to play with, and I had been so intrigued that I soon learned to make it walk and dance and move like a real person. That puppet was long since gone, but the four I had now I had made myself, carefully constructing them of soft wood and painting them. I made all their clothes, and over the years they had become almost like people to me: Gretchen with her wide blue eyes, Hans with his moppish shock of blond hair, Dil the Dragon with green scales and humorous pink tongue, Miranda with her bright red mouth and flashing brown eyes.
    Bill had built a miniature theater, complete with revolving stage and velvet curtain and moveable backdrops, and my puppets enacted their playlets with scenery and props, just as in a real theater. I stood behind the stage, manipulating the wires, and it was only when the act was over and the house lights came on that the audience could see me. I was hidden from view most of the time, just exposed for a few seconds as I took my bow.
    I thought it odd that the man should come night after night just for those few seconds. I wanted to believe that there was some other explanation for his presence, but I couldn’t. He had some secret interest in me, an interest strong enough to make him follow me to the music hall every night and sit through the show until I made my brief appearance. It terrified me. I felt vulnerable and defenseless against this strange behavior.
    Down the hall I could hear Sarah Clemmons talking to Bert, trying to sober him up. In a few minutes Bert himself came staggering down the hall and into my dressing room. He was wearing a blue suit with a vivid blue and green ascot, and his large gray eyes were sad. His fading blond hair was rumpled. He carried a folded newspaper, and he tilted a little as he stood in the doorway.
    â€œHello, Julia baby,” he said warmly. “You don’t mind goin’ on a little early? Sorry about this, real sorry. Sarah’s throwin’ fits. I hate to ask you to do this.”
    I smiled. “I won’t mind a bit, Bert. Dil looks rather upset, I must say, but Hans will keep him in line.”
    â€œAdorable little girl,” he said. “Little girl with her dolls. Do hate to ask you to do this. Really do.”
    â€œWill you be all right?” I inquired.
    â€œSure—sure. Sarah’s makin’ some more coffee right now. Gave her the slip so’s I could come ’pologize to you. Hey—by the way, have you heard from your sister recently?”
    â€œNo. There was a letter three months ago from Bristol.”
    â€œShe send any money?”
    â€œWhy—a few pounds,” I replied, surprised by the question.
    â€œDidn’t mean to be pryin’,” Bert said, supporting himself against the door frame. “Guy was askin’ me all about her this evening. Asked if you ever saw her, asked if you knew where she was. Seemed to be real interested. Asked if she ever sent you money and if so, how much. Told him none of his damn business. Didn’t