The Twilight Hour Read Free Page A

it?’
    â€˜I don’t mind. I like it.’ I more than liked it; it was our social centre, the place to be. ‘We come here all the time,’ I said proudly, ‘we’re regulars.’
    Gwendolen Grey suddenly spoke, addressing Colin. ‘Stan has money to burn. He wants to invest in films. Talk to him. You’ll find he’s very generous.’ She spoke with a kind of proprietorial contempt. Her diction was perfect, yet her voice had a metallic edge to it. I found myself thinking of a rusty blade, something harsh. It hadn’t jarred like that in the film – or I hadn’t noticed, anyway.
    â€˜Not so fast, Gwenny. I thought you wanted me to underwrite Radu’s latest plan.’
    â€˜I’d rather you didn’t call me Gwenny, sweetie.’
    Colin unbent a little. ‘Are you seriously interested in films?’ Either he no longer cared that he was dealing with an evil capitalist, or else ambition had driven out doubt. Anyway, as he’d already told me more than once, for a Communist the end justifies the means.
    â€˜So which one is your husband?’ the rusty voice murmured. She made me feel terribly shy. ‘Alan – Alan Wentworth.’ I smiled bashfully sideways.
    â€˜Yes, but which one is he, angel? I can’t tell them apart.’
    â€˜The one with black hair.’
    â€˜Lucky you – the handsome one.’
    I felt myself blushing, which was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help it. ‘Oh … I don’t know,’ I stammered, but of course Alan was good looking with his beautiful straight nose, rosy skin and narrow eyes – something about those dark eyes signalled intelligence.
    â€˜And what do you do?’
    â€˜Do?’ Now my voice sounded squeaky. Normally I was quite confident, but for some reason she made me feel shy. ‘Well – nothing much – at the moment. We haven’t been married long.’ I hesitated. Did I dare say it or would I look idiotic? I had to take the chance: ‘What I really want to do is act.’
    It was as if she hadn’t heard. I felt snubbed by her blank silence. Still, I had to keep my end up, so I tried flattery. ‘I just loved your film. I thought you acted so beautifully.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ she said, but she didn’t seem especially pleased. ‘Really, you know, it was all due to Radu. It’s the director who makes a film, the actors are so very secondary.’ She was watching the Romanian as she spoke. ‘He has an extraordinary talent, you know.’ She stared across the table at Enescu for a moment. Then her tragic gaze beamed itself at me. ‘You should talk to him about acting. He might find you a part.’
    This was so exciting I could hardly speak. ‘Oh –’ and my voice came out all squeaky, ‘that’s … thank you! Thank you so much.’
    The men were all still listening to Colin’s pitch. Perhaps Gwendolen Grey didn’t like not having the full attention of all the men in the vicinity, for as soon as Colin finished speaking, she murmured: ‘Chuck me a cigarette, would you, angel?’ And she smiled at him. ‘Colin, is it?’
    Colin sprang to attention, but I could tell she wasn’t his type. Colin was a bit of a dark horse where women were concerned; or perhaps it was just that he was too serious to flirt.
    Later we walked in a crowd up Charlotte Street to Tommy’s basement café. It was a steamy, dirty, friendly place. Mother would have thought it dreadfully unhygienic, but the pub shut at ten, so if the conversations and projects and plans and gossip were to continue it was Tommy’s or nothing.
    Stanley Colman stared around with a look of amusement – you could tell he felt he was slumming – tipped the homburg hat back on his head, then removed it altogether. I hadn’t noticed before, but he was good looking. He had masses of curly hair, a noble face, a