Free The Town in Bloom by Dodie Smith

things up between you. Not that you’ll see much of him – unless you understudy; he rehearses the understudies.’
    ‘How ghastly for them. And I am going to understudy. I’ve just asked Mr Crossway.’
    She looked amused. ‘Not bashful, are you?’
    A sudden fear came to me. ‘Oh, goodness, will Mr Crossway be angry about my accident?’
    ‘Not with you. An accident’s an accident. He might be annoyed with me, for sending you; but he’s never annoyed with anyone for very long. What’s the matter?’ She had noticed I was rubbing one of my ankles. ‘Did you twist it when you fell?’
    ‘Only bruised it a bit. It’s not at all bad.’
    ‘Still, you must have been jarred. It was a horrid thing to happen on your first night here. I’m going to send you home in a taxi – you can charge it to petty cash as you got injured in the line of duty.’ She rang up for a taxi, then said I must have coffee while I waited. A percolator was bubbling on a gas-ring.
    The coffee smelt marvellous but didn’t taste as it smelt; even with three lumps of sugar I found it bitter. She said that in future, I could have mine with milk. ‘They’ve got milk in the bars, for the coffee trays. But believe me, strong black coffee does more to get one through the evening.’
    I asked if she would be working late – and remembered to tell her Mr Crossway wouldn’t be coming up. She said in that case she’d clear out quite soon – ‘Unless I wait till the curtain’s down and then make our peace with Brice. Poor Brice, he really suffers when anything goes wrong on his precious stage.’
    ‘I should have thought it was Mr Crossway’s stage.’
    ‘Do you know, in an odd way it isn’t? Not as much as it’s Brice’s, when a performance is taking place. Brice is like the captain of a ship and Mr Crossway’s merely the ship’s owner. Your taxi will be here now. See you tomorrow at two-thirty. And don’t worry about Brice Marton.’
    I did worry a little – or rather, I still felt indignant. But soon I was enjoying the ride through the shining, rain-wet streets. We passed a coffee stall, the first I had ever seen, and in spite of my solid dinner I at once felt hungry. I asked the taxi-driver if coffee-stall food was good and he said he’d take me to a stall where I could get first-rate ham sandwiches – it turned out to be quite near the Club. I bought four sandwiches, one for me, one for Molly, one for Lilian and one for the taxi-driver. He said none of his fares had ever treated him to one before. 

4
    I can’t believe my first spring and summer in London were as sunny as my mind’s eye remembers them; one is apt to surround memories in weather that suits their mood. But apart from specific occasions – such as my first, torrentially wet evening at the Crossway, and an afternoon of downpour in July which had dramatic results – I can only visualise myself as walking through, or looking out on, sunlight; and in the evenings watching clear skies turn to a deeper blue when lights were first switched on. As for the nights, there were always very large stars – if not a new or a full moon, my two favourite kinds.
    All this indicates that I was happy; and for much of the time I knew I was. In the early days I was a little troubled because I had not yet made a start as an actress, but even then I could pass what must surely be one valid test of happiness: I was reluctant to let each day come to an end. Back in the village, after the theatre, I would willingly have talked all night.
    What did Molly, Lilian and I talk about? Their theatre, my theatre, their men friends (I had none), the Club, clothes … never the state of the world. And why did we laugh so much? I fancy they laughed more than I did andvery often at me, but it was affectionate laughter and it encouraged me to talk more and more. I feel sure they didn’t think me witty; just funny. My schooldays and my amateur theatricals were funny. The fact that I had read many