Chapter 36
CHAPTER 36
TUESDAY, JANUARY, 3 1928
L ouisa
The newspaper calls to me for the twentieth time this morning. I avoid Clara’s amused expression as I pick it up and read the front-page headline again. I am unable to get a grip on myself and instead read the same paragraphs on repeat as the details of the last few days settle.
This time, I am thankful for the graininess of the black-and-white image, if only because it protects Gwen from further scrutiny. I talked to her yesterday over the telephone after the news story landed on every street corner in the city. She is reflective and plans to take some time off work until things calm down.
The photograph shows me bending over an unconscious Gwen, though I doubt anyone who wasn’t in the room would be able to tell who any of us are. The caption beneath the photo is what continues to pull me back to the article.
Louisa Wilson, a rising star in the Vancouver theatre scene and the lead actress in Thomas Cromwell’s recent production of Craig’s Wife , seen here assisting an unnamed maid in the Hotel Hamilton on New Year’s Eve .
I skim the rest of the story, catching Clara out of the corner of my eye as she admires Mama’s watch, now firmly attached to her wrist. On New Year’s Day, William showed up with the watch and a tiny set of borrowed pliers. He sat at the dining table with Papa, sipping tea and tinkering with the watch until it was fixed.
Papa rose from the table, patted William on the back, and announced, much to Clara’s embarrassment, “He’s a keeper.” Then, planting a kiss on Clara’s head, he added, “Don’t let him get away, darlin’.”
Clara shifts her focus from Mama’s watch to me. “You know,” she says, “you wanted to be famous, and look at that newspaper. They called you a rising star. I suspect it’s only a matter of time before you’re on the road to Hollywood.”
I consider her words while remembering my new goal of securing a few more key acting roles. When I reach out to Rose Oxley, I will be prepared for the next step in my career. The telephone rings, interrupting our simple breakfast of toast and tea. I stand and answer it as Clara finishes packing our lunch for the day. “Wilson residence… This is she. Oh, hello, sir.”
Clara wanders back into the room with a dishtowel in hand.
“I see. Yes, I am available. You’ll have to work around my schedule at the hotel. Yes, it is important for me to keep my position at The Hamilton.” I glance in Clara’s direction, barely containing an eye roll.
I stifle a huff. “I apologize that it may be an inconvenience for you, but I have no plans to leave my position at the hotel. I am quite sure you do not ask your male actors to quit their jobs in order to accept a role in your productions.” I bite my tongue and don’t add mention of the significant pay difference between male and female actors, regardless of whether the lead role is female.
“Unless you are prepared to cover my wages from the hotel in addition to the agreed-upon amount for the role, this is my best offer. I promise you I’ll work harder than any other person on your stage, but it would not be prudent for me to exchange a steady income for a short-term stint under the bright lights.”
I straighten my back, willing myself not to cave on my terms, even with the offer of a lead role within my reach. A victorious smile curves my lips upward. “Very well. Thank you, sir. I will see you on Saturday at ten o’clock. Goodbye.”
I cannot stop the giggle from erupting. “That was the director of All Soul’s Eve, the play I auditioned for. He has had a change of mind, and he wants me to take on the lead role.”
“Lou, that is fantastic. I am happy for you. But what was all that talk about not leaving The Hamilton? I thought you wanted to pursue acting full time.”
I shrug my shoulders at the fickle appearance of my about-face. “If I’m going to make a name for myself, I’ve got to start by treating each day as an opportunity. It takes time and effort to build a career in film. I’ve decided that since I have the time, I’m going to do it my way.”
“Speaking of time.” Clara glances at her watch. “We’d better get going, or we’re going to be late.”
* * *
Clara
Putting the last hairpin in place, I check the mirror, ready for the day to begin. The locker room is a bustle of activity, since chatter has begun to surface that the winners of the holiday bonus have been selected.
Given our rather eventful New Year’s Eve, I assume my and Louisa’s names are no longer in the running. Our shenanigans have created quite the stir throughout the hotel, and with yesterday’s newspaper headline, I am certain we are currently an embarrassment, certainly not adequate contestants in a “best maid” contest.
Ms. Thompson enters the locker room, her presence halting the chatter. “Good morning, ladies,” she says, eliciting a murmur of “good morning” from all of us.
“As you’ve probably heard, we have finalized the winners of the holiday bonus.” Ms. Thompson flips pages on her clipboard. “I must say you all played an important role in a successful holiday season, and you are to be congratulated for your hard work and consistent attention to our guests’ needs.”
Ms. Thompson scans the room, meeting every face. “You did not make our task an easy one.”
Restrained, nervous laughter filters through the gaggle of maids.
Recognizing the building anxiety, Ms. Thompson lifts her clipboard and begins to read off the winners’ names.
“The award for guest floor number one goes to Carol Potter. Congratulations, Carol.”
The locker room fills with applause as those closest to Carol congratulate her.
“Guest floor number two goes to Margaret Adams.”
Another round of applause conceals Louisa’s whisper in my ear. “Good for her. She deserves a little recognition in her life.” Maggie’s delight brings a smile to my lips. After having a challenging time settling in with the other girls, Maggie seems to have found her way, and I am truly pleased for her.
Ms. Thompson goes through the rest of the guest floors one by one, with Hazel taking home the prize for the fifth floor and Beatrice being selected for the seventh.
As the room settles back into quiet, Ms. Thompson sets down her clipboard and clasps her hands in front of her. “The purpose of the holiday bonus was to challenge you and see how capable you are as maids, colleagues, and women.” Her eyes flick in my direction.
“When it comes to challenges, I must admit I had not anticipated some of the events that transpired during the holiday season.”
A ripple of laughter moves through our group. Mr. Barnes and his arrest are the worst-kept secrets among the hotel staff.
“The recipient of the eighth-floor holiday bonus showed us strength of character, as well as duty to and respect for her position as an eighth-floor maid. And most importantly, she demonstrated that each of us has an obligation to be true to ourselves. Ladies, there is no rule or person that should ever invalidate what you know to be right in your heart. Following your instincts isn’t always easy, especially when they tell you something different from what everyone else around you is saying, myself included.”
Ms. Thompson’s gaze lands directly on me. “For that, I apologize.” Clearing her throat and lifting her voice an octave, the matron announces, “Please help me in congratulating Clara Wilson for her exceptional work and service as the winner of this year’s eighth-floor holiday bonus.”
The room erupts in applause, with everyone turning to watch me as Louisa pulls me into a fierce embrace. Lou whispers in my ear, “Look at you, little sister, setting the world on fire.”