Finding Jessica Lambert, page 19
“No. I…I didn’t know her surname.”
Penny raised her eyebrows.
“It didn’t come up.” Jess shrugged. “And, no, I don’t recognise the name.”
“She was best known for her theatre work, particularly with the Royal Shakespeare Company?”
“I’m not a big theatre goer, so…”
What separate worlds people lived in, all inhabiting the same space but never noticing each other. Jess had no idea what shows and actors were hits in the West End just as another thespian would have no idea what Jess's films drew at the box office. But Jess had the impression that Penny was further underwhelmed by her admission, so left it there.
“Well, she was,” Penny said, “and by her mid-twenties she was never out of work with productions in the West End and nationally. By her thirties, she was breaking into high-profile films.”
Jess breathed in sharply. “Then a man started following her.”
“Yes,” Penny said, and she looked devastated by it as if her world was collapsing. She clasped her hands in front of her. “It changed everything.”
Jess realised Penny’s life must have been turned upside down too.
“Not at first,” Penny continued. “It was unnerving, yes, but she carried on with most of her life. I remember how she avoided the odd party invite, but by the end she lost her confidence completely and she was a different woman. It was horrible to see. It was little by little. Some days huge setbacks would occur, then she didn’t want to go out at all let alone perform on stage. Then she didn’t want to talk about acting anymore. Now she won’t even listen to a review program on the radio if it mentions film or theatre.”
Penny looked up at Jess, tears threatening. “I was an actor too, still am, although we don’t talk about it much.”
“Really?”
“Commercials and the odd comedy,” Pen said. “You wouldn’t have heard of me, unless you’re a fan of Maltesers and watch the ad on repeat.”
“No,” Jess said, “I’m sorry, I hadn’t.”
“Anyway.” Penny drew herself up and took a lungful of air, perhaps to purge the sadness. “It was a huge part of Anna’s life, from a young girl right up to five years ago. Acting meant everything to her. Now she won’t watch a film with me and, I’m afraid, you represent everything she’s lost.”
“What am I going to do?” Jess murmured.
Penny smiled at first then became serious. “Where are you going with this?”
“How do you mean?”
“Miss global movie star? Miss not quite a girl in every port but I imagine there’s an awful lot of interest?”
“I’m not like that.”
“Regardless of Anna’s reaction when you tell her, you’re not going to be hanging round for long are you.”
“I don’t know. I’ve auditioned for a role until Christmas and was hoping to spend weeks with Anna.”
“Don’t break her heart,” Penny said.
“I have no intention of doing that, but I still can’t say where I’ll be next year. But I do want to be with her. I want to be with her every second of the day. I met her one night and haven’t been able to stay away since.”
Penny pursed her lips. “Anna used to be such a confident woman, I mean without being a total arse about it. She was the one we all relied on to be the grownup and sort us out. And sexy. Without fail, she always had a hot date.”
“She’s still sexy,” Jess said without reservation, “and confident too. When I’m with her I have a sense of calm. Everything feels like it’s going to be OK.”
Penny gave her an indulgent smile. “You really are smitten, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Jess lowered her gaze, “completely.”
Penny seemed to ponder. “The difference is you’re young and free to travel the world.”
“You make Anna sound like a geriatric. She’s only nearing forty, immensely capable and independent, so much so that she helps lost actors on the Underground.”
Penny’s mouth pinched in the corner. “True, but do you know what it’s like when she has to trespass beyond her usual routine?”
Jess was about to counter but realised that, no, she hadn’t.
“You have to be careful,” Penny said. “You have the potential to hurt her in so many ways.”
The buzzer rudely cut into their conversation and jarred Jess from her torment.
“That’ll be Anna,” Pen said quietly, and she pressed the door release. They both stood back and waited, hearing the front door open and shut, the footsteps dull on the first flight of stairs, then louder on the second until Anna emerged from the stairwell.
“It’s getting late,” Anna said, her head down, concentrating on the steps. “You and Bibs better get….Oh.”
And there she was, beautiful Anna Mayhew standing before them, a look of surprise on her face turning to delight as she caught Jess.
Jess could suddenly imagine her on the stage, full of grace and poise and magnetic to the eye. And that voice, Jess bet it had seduced whole audiences.
“Oh dear,” Anna said with an elated smile. “Too late. You’ve met Penny, the biggest gossip in North London. I hope you haven’t told her all your secrets.”
And Jess wanted to bury herself in the ground.
“Hi,” Jess said, her heart both heavy and light with eagerness to see Anna again. She wanted to rush over and hold her in her arms and at the same time she was struck rigid by Penny’s presence and everything she’d told her.
It seemed Anna only had the former compulsion and came forward, cupping Jess's face in her hands and placing the sweetest kiss on her lips. “It’s good to see you,” she murmured.
“I couldn’t wait,” Jess said, closing her eyes to hide all the fears that swirled inside.
Anna slipped her arm around her waist.
“I hope you haven’t been giving her a hard time,” she said to Penny.
“Me?” Penny shrieked, and a veneer of bubbly carefree persona swept over her. Jess could imagine her vividly in a comedy series.
“Well,” Penny feigned mortification. “I know when I’m not welcome. Come on Bibs, love of my life, we need to vacate the love nest. Adult only time here I think.”
Anna laughed and Jess wanted to die.
Chapter 30.
“Coffee?” Anna offered as soon as Bibs and Penny had bundled out of the door with so much noise and commotion it was as if a whole party had left.
“Please,” Jess murmured, still in shock.
“She’s like a whirlwind,” Anna said over her shoulder as she filled the kettle and pulled out a cafetière. “Appallingly nosy and a gargantuan gossip, but with a big heart that’s always in the right place.”
“Yes,” Jess managed.
Anna set about making the coffee and Jess remained where she stood, paralysed by indecision and heartache. The silence beyond the clatter of the mug and the ring of a teaspoon was oppressive.
“I hope she kept you entertained,” Anna said, faced away. Jess could hear the hesitation creeping into her voice.
“Yes,” she said.
Anna stopped and waited for the kettle, hands resting on the top, all the while facing away. The kettle gurgled and rattled on its base, the steam billowing into the air, and when it seemed as if it might explode the switch clicked off and it settled almost with a sigh of relief into silence. Anna didn’t move, except for the slight slump in her shoulders.
“Penny told you didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did,” Jess replied. “It came up. She wasn’t gossiping.”
“Oh.” And the disappointment hung like a weight around Anna. Jess could see her trying to heave it off before she turned around and leant back against the surface, attempting a smile to lighten the moment. “I wondered if she had.”
Jess couldn’t move. If she’d doubted Penny’s story and the impact it’d had on Anna, here was evidence enough. Anna was the picture of someone changed.
“She said you didn’t want to act anymore,” Jess offered.
“Couldn’t is more accurate,” Anna said gently. “Stage fright. It sounds so simple and little doesn’t it – being a bit scared of going on stage – but I physically wasn’t able to act anymore.”
“Was it because of…him?” Jess realised Anna had never mentioned her stalker’s name, in fact how little Anna had told her about this, as if she wanted it kept in the past and to move on but couldn’t.
Anna nodded. “It's mind altering, having someone pursue you,” she said. “You question your own sanity after a while. I told him plainly many times that I wasn't interested and plainer still to stop contacting me. Every time he would invent another excuse. He told me that I wasn’t being fair and that I needed to listen to his side of the story, that I owed him that. How dare I ignore him. Who did I think I was.
“Every confrontation, I thought that I’d finally got through to him and he would stop calling or leaving messages. I believed he understood at last, that I wasn’t the person he thought I was and we shared the same reality at last. But then he’d appear at the corner shop near the theatre. He’d say it was by chance, but that was the thing, I’d told him not to talk to me ever again. Then perhaps that would stop, and he’d send a letter on behalf of someone else. He established a fanclub with others and made an utter fool of me when I freaked out in front of them all after a performance. He’d promised them that we were friends. It was relentless, like a bad dream that won’t stop.” She took a breath. “I began to think that nothing would get through to him and he would never ever stop.”
She peeped up, perhaps to see if Jess followed.
“It’s the unrelenting pressure of someone hounding you and inventing new ways to contact you and surprise you. You lose faith in your understanding of the world and your own perception. It’s profoundly disorienting and undermining. I still fear losing faith in my own judgement like that and trust in people’s behaviour.”
That hit Jess hard. How was she going to explain?
“Have you ever had that?” Anna said. “When you think so differently to someone else and they cannot entertain the possibility of divergence and insist on forcing their reality on you to your detriment.”
Jess had, often.
“Eventually I secured a restraining order,” Anna said, “but his behaviour deteriorated. Gone was any pretence of passing by or excuses to see me. Someone pinched me, hard, here,” she indicated the soft flesh at the side of her tummy. “I was on a packed Tube carriage. It was like a nasty prank, a stupid and childish thing to do. It sounds ridiculous doesn’t it, but it was him. I saw him as the train pulled away from the next stop, staring at me with glee and gloating as if challenging me to prove that it had been him. And that was just the start of another phase of escalation.” She hesitated, and Jess's heart heaved at Anna’s face so full of dread at her recollection of details left unsaid.
“So,” Anna said, shuffling. “It didn’t stop until he was imprisoned.”
“And the stage fright?” Jess gently encouraged.
“Well, I thought it was all over.” Anna raised her eyebrows. “Time to be free again and not live in the prison of his making. Not having to think about him every second of the day. Where he could be. What he’d do next. What new way he’d find to contact me. I thought all that was behind me. Then I froze on stage. Like I say, it sounds so little doesn’t it – a bit frightened of appearing before an audience – but I couldn’t move. It was completely debilitating. I thought I was going to have a heart attack it was such an overpowering physical experience. It wasn't even at the opening act of the play. I was into the second half and someone had coughed. I’m not sure if it sounded like him, but my mind was already convinced – I would never be safe, he would always come back, he was relentless and I froze.”
Anna shook her shoulders and stood up straighter. “So,” she said. “I took a break, but then I was seen as demanding, an awkward precious diva. I felt ridiculous having stage fright after all my experience and years of treading the boards. I tried work in smaller theatres but eventually no-one would take a chance on me. My current business partner was the one to suggest voice coaching. Therapy helped. It gave me enough coping skills to leave the flat and enough confidence for coaching work and to meet new clients in a single location, but that was the end of my acting career.”
Her words trailed off and her face fell into forlorn desolation as she stared at the ground. The loss was obvious and more profound to Jess because she could empathise so deeply.
Jess took a step toward her. “You must have been devastated, losing that on top of everything else.” And Jess couldn’t keep the sympathy from her voice.
Anna nodded but turned away, not inviting Jess's consolation. She sighed, hard. “Sorry, I’m not used to talking about this, even after all these years. Honestly, I feel foolish about it sometimes, knowing rationally that he’s gone but avoiding the life I had. I think if I dwell on the past it might set me back further, and other people…well, no-one wants to hear anymore. They’re impatient and think I should be well, even Penny, although she’s kinder about it. They want me to be my old self.”
Jess opened her mouth and was about to step forward but Anna stopped her with, “Let me get us a coffee and we'll sit down.” And Jess nodded, giving her space.
They sat at the island, steaming cups in front of them, and some of Anna’s usual cheer seemed to revive.
“Look, I hope Pen didn’t exaggerate,” Anna continued, more upbeat, “about the loss of my career, but acting did mean an enormous amount to me. Had you heard of me?” she added as if the thought had only that second occurred to her.
Jess shook her head. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I mainly enjoyed theatre work. I wasn’t a huge household name.”
Anna took a sip then rested the mug on a mat, her fingers wrapped around its entirety.
“Did she tell you about my family?” Anna asked.
“No.”
“Ah, small mercy then,” Anna said with something approaching sarcasm. “Sorry,” she added, again trying to cast off the seriousness. “They were never supportive of my going into the profession. I wonder sometimes if that’s why acting is so closely bound up with my identity and why my failure is so,” she took a deep breath, “debilitating in a way.”
Jess made a noise to show she was listening.
“Does this all sound rather precious to you?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Jess blurted out. “I can imagine how much acting meant to you.” And Jess had to stop herself from telling her everything.
“Good, because I don’t want to exaggerate about my background. My parents were nothing like abusive or negligent, but I couldn’t describe them as nurturing or accepting either.”
“That can still hurt,” Jess said, not for the first time grateful for her family, who muddled through every eventuality with love and best intentions.
“They are a traditional conservative family in general,” Anna continued. “My father’s a barrister and my brother and sister have worked in the City. I’m the odd one out – the actor and the bisexual of course.” She squeezed her coffee mug. “I think that’s why I loved acting from such an early age. I knew I was different to the rest of the family and I was always drawn to ‘deviant’ roles.” She grinned at the word. “I always leapt at the chance to play the character with the subtext: the girl who dressed as a boy, the woman who led, the woman who fell in love with someone of an unacceptable gender. It helped me discover who I was. I always find that ironic, that I discovered who I was by pretending to be someone else. But it’s true, I think, for many actors.”
Jess's heart thudded in her chest. She knew exactly what Anna meant. She could feel the truth of it in her bones. How much confidence had the character of Kalemdra given her as a teen when she played with her friends, and how much more so now that she shaped the role herself.
“My parents have always been dismissive of my ‘little career’.”
“Why though?” Jess couldn’t help saying. “Don’t they watch films, the TV?”
“All the time.”
“Have they ever gone a week without being entertained or informed by a radio play, or listened to a story read by a narrator who brought it to life?”
“They live for all of those.”
“Then why don’t they respect your choice?”
“Odd isn’t it,” Anna smiled, “how people dismiss the arts while elevating them at the same time. They’ll celebrate excellence and notoriety but dismiss aspirant actors as ridiculous. I always found that perplexing.”
“What about when you performed for the RSC?”
“That was the first time my family came to see any of my work. I was in my mid-twenties and after I received a rave review in The Times.”
“Wow,” Jess let out. “You had to do all that first?”
Anna pinched her lips together. “I say all this to explain how much that world meant to me, not to berate my parents. I admit I feel silly for how it has affected me sometimes, when things could have been so much worse, but at the same time it was what made me tick. It was always the high.” Her eyes sparkled as she recalled. “Appearing on stage, there’s nothing like it for me. When you have an audience’s heart and mind and they are consumed in the moment as intensely as you are, engulfed in the emotions of the character and situation, their suspension of disbelief complete, the trust between audience and actor unwavering and the moment so vivid it’s more powerful than any reality. That kind of experience is a potent drug.” Anna paused in thought. “Penny understands. She’s an actor too. I didn’t want you to think–”
“I understand.” Jess understood painfully well and she wished Anna wouldn’t apologise.
“I don’t think my parents ever did. I’m not sure they really understand the power of stories and performance.” A sad smile overtook Anna’s features. “I know what it means to others though. There was a woman once who came every week for an entire run of a play. I was cast as a mother who’d lost her child. It was an exhausting role. Every evening I had to fall apart on stage, broken into a thousand pieces and shattered by the death of her girl. It was a brutal experience.
