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only for the ignorant masses and not true theatre at all. Kitty responded by saying how she greatly appreciated Frank’s efforts.
    He was proving to be quite a gentleman, in his bluff, self-deprecating way. Most evenings would find them in the parlour playing backgammon or chess quite companionably together. Almost like an old married couple, as Archie would caustically remark.
    And as they played Frank talked, usually about the smart little house he was having built for them in the garden suburbs, while Kitty observed the guests seated morosely around the lounge, wondering if perhaps she should consider it a blessing not to have been taken up by a theatrical agent into this most insecure of professions. Amongst the motley collection of actors who occupied her mother’s lodging house, few seemed to profit from it. Most appeared down-at-heel in their luck. You only had to look at their clothes and footwear to know that. Nor did many put much effort into rectifying the situation as if, like her, they’d tried but lost heart. But then hope was something you’d largely abandoned if you chose to stay at Hope View, despite its optimistic name.
    Most actors managed to keep the wolf from the door by doing odd jobs, working as a waitress, shop assistant or barman which, generally speaking, they hated. They called this ‘resting’. They rarely wanted regular work in case an audition or good part should turn up. Others would lose their job through drowning their sorrows in too much drink, or ‘a superfluity of alcoholic beverages’ as Leonard, a one-time Shakespearean actor preferred to call it.
    Rents were paid weekly and, if they were unable to meet the cost, were expected to visit Clara in her office with an explanation and proposed time-scale of when the debt might be settled. It was always a humiliating process for it was well known that Clara Terry was not a woman of sentiment. No rent - no room, was her policy. Poor payers were allowed two weeks grace before they were evicted, their goods put out on the dusty pavement if necessary. In consequence nobody ever stayed very long at Hope View. Clients such as Frank Cussins who paid on the nail each week, didn’t take to drink and were clean in their habits were a rarity indeed. But then he was far too predictable to be otherwise. No doubt once he had his house in the suburbs, he’d plant a neat little garden surrounded with a privet hedge which he would clip every Sunday. Kitty shuddered. And she still hadn’t confessed her change of heart.
    ‘I’ve just captured the last of your pieces, Kitty. Another game to me. I fear you’re not concentrating.’
    ‘Maybe I’m not up to your skill,’ she said, not wishing him to interrogate too closely what it was that so preoccupied her.
    ‘I shall set the board out again and give you one or two pointers, shall I?’
    Sighing deeply, Kitty paid scant attention as he punctiliously laid out the pieces once again, nor on the instructions he issued on her shortcomings as the game progressed.
    ‘We must take another trip to the theatre one day,’ Frank commented as he captured her bishop, ‘so that you may wear your silk dress again.’
    Kitty stretched her lips into a stiff smile, wishing she could feel more enthusiastic. ‘That would be lovely.’
    His eyes, set rather too close together, regarded her with a bright fondness but, encouraged by the smile, he leaned forward to whisper confidentially, ‘don’t fret about Clara’s sulks. She has a lot on her mind at present but she’ll come round. I explained that a girl needs time to herself now and then, particularly when she’s newly affianced.’ Frank winked as he removed a knight, following it by two pawns. ‘I pointed out that there’s really no rush for us to wed. I perfectly understand that you need time to get over your grieving,’ as if it were some sort of disease which would ultimately be cured.
    Nevertheless Kitty appreciated his thoughtfulness. He was only