(a/n - I do like how this fic is ploughing along... They're just so utterly adorable together!)
Chapter 9
Bert looked out of the window as people came and went. It was now late 1934, and jobs were hard to come by. He was doing relatively well though, as over summer he had managed to earn a fair bit of money, and he had managed quite a good audition for a nearby play. He was still awaiting the message regarding how successful it had actually been. Downstairs, a commotion was going on. A lot of the old performers had moved out and travelled on to other cities, and a large troop of new performers were moving in. A theatre in town was putting on a variety show extravaganza, and so contortionists and acrobats and unicyclists were moving their belongings into the building for however long they would be staying there. Bert laughed to himself and moved to stretch his other leg, when a knock sounded at his door. Knowing who would be there, he moved to answer it. She slipped into the room with the grace she seemed to exude with every movement. A letter was between her delicate (yet absolutely devilish when she wanted them to be, he thought) fingers. She turned to face him and smiled.
"For you. I picked it up on my way in." He opened the envelope whilst she sat herself by the window, gazing at the people below. She had been cast as a dancer to entertain the crowds at the local variety act. Bert hadn't a chance; they had only auditioned females for the role. He whooped to discover he had the part, then checked himself. Yvonne was very specific about dignity and immaturity, and he was certain that whooping was not proper. He approached her and hugged her, letting her lean into his embrace. She turned and smiled at him, before pulling his face down towards her, and them both towards the bed. Bert was quite happy with celebrating his new job in this way. It was certainly cheaper than buying a meal.
Bert was rehearsing for his new play with a renewed vigour. He actually had a fairly decent part. He was playing a friend of a main character and had more lines, dances and songs to learn than he had ever had. Bert relished the rehearsals, and the musical extravaganza that was the play. He well and truly felt content in his life. Yvonne was seeing less of him though, and this he didn't enjoy as much. The variety show had started, and she was busy most days at her venue, whilst he was at his. He was rather surprised that she kept at it, what with her insistance that the acts were vulgar and pathetic, but at least he still saw her to practice dancing occasionally. Every other week, perhaps. In actual fact, he rarely saw her. And, he wasn't sure why, but the man he was playing alongside was a recurring fixture in his mind. Flamboyant yet not over the top, and a wonderfully athletic man, he really did get on with everyone. And Bert was glad to be in his company. The first night of the show was met with an adequate reception, and Bert found himself being congratulated by many people on his acting skills. He was on cloud nine.
The show continued in much the same way, and Bert honestly couldn't remember a time when he had been happier. He was a champion, and he wrote home, telling his parents of his big success. He tried to tell Yvonne, but she was never in her rooms when he called, and she never visited him. One day, when the show was not on, he waited by the window in his room, watching the street beyond until he caught a glimpse of her majestic hair. After hours of sat stock still, he saw her meandering down the street, laughing with a man he couldn't say he recognised. They entered the building, and Bert left his room and descended. However, when he reached her door and knocked, she didn't answer. He was puzzled. He had seen her enter the building. Going upstairs, he pondered over what had happened. He told himself that it probably wasn't Yvonne actually, it was likely to be some other performer who had a similar coloured hair. He re-entered his room and fell asleep. He had a performance the day after to prepare himself for.
When it happened, he couldn't say it was unexpected. Except for the fact that it was completely and utterly unexpected. One Friday evening, after an afternoon performance, swishing around his room practicing his steps. Jazz hands here. Box step there. A knock. He opened his door, and smiled at her presence. He had missed her so very, very much. She came in without her usual vigour and smile. Instead of sitting on the bed or making herself comfortable, she stood primly by the wall, facing him. When she told him, he crumpled onto the bed in probably the most undignified manner that he ever had done. He didn't remember her leaving, just the sound of his door clicking shut above his muffled sobs. The day after, Saturday, he performed as best he could, and when the actor who was playing his friend in the show suggested that they went for a drink as Bert wasn't himself, he agreed readily. Somehow, he found himself pouring his sorrows out to the man in a booth at the back of a bar. When he was told that women were useless, players, always out to trap men, he agreed. And when he found his thigh being stroked after consuming one too many beers, he didn't question it. Outside the digs, performers were arriving, despite it being the middle of the early morning. Bert didn't notice them, not really. Not when he was being kissed goodbye for now by an athletically built gentleman who had helped him drown his sorrows that evening. He certainly didn't see the woman who had caused his decline walk past, raise her eyebrows and continue into the building, and to the arms of a man in there.
It wasn't as if she had planned for it to happen. In all fairness, she had done everything she could not to get herself in a situation like that. She had been quite content with Barry and their little dance sessions. But then all of a sudden she got the part in a variety show and a Hungarian acrobat from the Magyar Trio was shirtless in front of her in a dressing room and in all honesty she hadn't been able to stop his influences after that. Barry may have been caring and considerate, but this man was raging and rampant and she had honestly never realised that life could be lived so exhilaratingly pleasurably. Her new job may have contained tacky people who thought that twisting a leg around their neck was classy, but there was also the acrobats, and the one specific one who had entranced her so. She felt a little guilty about Barry, so she avoided him. He wouldn't suspect her of being in the room of a Hungarian who barely spoke any English. He was probably too busy with his decent part in a proper show, anyway. Not that she was jealous of him. He had a common Nottingham accent.
When she finally plucked up the courage to tell him, he broke down. A small part of her cried out in guilt and care for him, but then another part of her reminded her of the acrobat downstairs and what he was going to do to her. As she slipped out of the room, she told herself that real men didn't cry. But then that little part of her said again how real men didn't rip her clothes off her in the undignified way that was going on downstairs when she visited her new man straight away. Soon after, she had almost completely forgotten about Barry upstairs, weeping his heart out, as her heart was pounding behind her ears as she tried to steady her breathing.
Her new man treated her well, she thought. Well, he was forever touching her and stroking her off stage, and smiling at her. He wasn't a fan of dancing like Barry was, and he certainly didn't practice with her in his room. They only did one thing in his room. The day after, once the show had finished, Yvonne was walking home after drinks with the other dancing girls, when a curious sight beheld her near the digs. Barry, her Barry. No. Not her Barry. Her ex Barry. Kissing another man. If she had been told that her ex would be kissing a man, she would never had believed it. But there he was. She supposed this was his way of showing he had moved on or something. She raised her eyebrows at him then entered the house, going to her man beyond. He ravished her, well and truly. Nothing like what Barry had been like, he was something else entirely. And Yvonne Stuart-Hargreaves was weirdly captivated by the feelings elicited in her when he brought his continental charm to her. No dances with Barry anymore, she was ready to take the plunge with her new fellow.
It couldn't be happening. It couldn't. She was Yvonne Stuart-Hargreaves, dignified to the maximum level. She couldn't have let this happen. Yet it appeared she had. She had to tell him. Two months now without her monthly visitor, the one which her mother had educated her about all that time ago. How did one confirm these things? The sickly feeling she felt in the morning might be enough confirmation. She splashed her face with cold water, mingling with the tears, and took a deep breath. Her career, it was over. She had to tell him. But how? Why had she got herself into this mess? He cared for her though, she told herself. He would take it well, cherish her. She exited the bathroom, and made her way up to his rooms. Knocking on his door, she timidly went in as he opened it. Standing by his bed, she had a strange sense of déjà vu from some months ago when she told Barry some news. But this was different. This news was even more life changing. He would take it well though. She knew he would. She trusted him completely. She was good at judgement. He looked at her expectantly, desire in his eyes. Yvonne told him.
Yvonne Stuart-Hargreaves spent that night with little sleep. Not in the ways she had been with her Hungarian acrobat though. No, instead she was tossing and turning upon her bed in her cold and damp cupboard room, trying and failing to get comfortable. That night, the darkness swallowed her tears, as Yvonne realised that she might have to swallow her pride.
