‘I did think of that,’ said Pauline. ‘Also –’ she smiled suddenly ‘– my old mother is still alive and may well have plagued the life out of him – oh dear that is an unfortunate phrase,’ but they both laughed.

‘I was late,’ said Mrs Beale, ‘did the organist play his favourite song?’

‘“I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”? The one he sang to the Russian chimpanzee?’

Mrs Beale turned and beamed at Pauline. ‘He told you?’

‘Yes,’ said Pauline, somehow getting comfort that she too shared a memory about her father.

‘He was a great favourite here with the ladies. Not many men survive so long. We’ll miss him a lot.’

‘Mrs Beale – can I ask you – something I’ve been wondering about – did he have financial problems?’

Mrs Beale sighed. ‘The world would be amazed,’ she said. ‘Some of these old actors live on the smell of an oily rag, truly. They save up for the packet of ten Silk Cut that they are forbidden. If they are only on a state pension, as lots of them are, and have no assets, as most of them don’t, then almost all their very meagre old age pension goes straight to the Hall, of course it has to. The Actors’ Benevolent Fund gives us some money, and your union Equity occasionally supports us when they can and occasionally some rich old actor leaves us money in their will. It’s a very good home this I think, and the old people keep their dignity in a very special way, but it is very difficult for some of them.’

‘And – my father?’ She found the words hard but wanted to use them.

‘He had almost nothing, he didn’t get a full old age pension because of his time abroad with the circus. He had a credit card that he’d had for years which we tried to get him to be very careful with, I think occasionally he would use that for a bottle of whisky or a rail ticket or a Christmas gift. I expect he owes a few hundred on it though I wouldn’t be surprised if most of that were interest.’

‘I’ll pay it,’ said Pauline quickly, ‘I’d be glad to.’

Mrs Beale smiled at her. ‘Thank you, ‘ she said, ‘that would be nice, for Roger.’

They turned into the Hall gates.

‘I suppose Harry must’ve known he was staying here, and come to visit him. He told me he’d met him years ago.’ Pauline saw that all the roses had dropped their petals now.

‘No, he was just – looking over the Hall one day and he and Roger got chatting.’

‘Looking over the Hall? Does he have an elderly relation in the business?’ Pauline thought of Michael who had been a dancer, but this wasn’t a hospital.

‘For himself I think,’ said Mrs Beale gently.