Ten Minutes

Ten Minutes

I heard a knock at the door. "Ten minutes Miss Eleanor" came the call of the theatre runner.

I was almost ready and so close to stardom. Just ten minutes to go until curtain up. I stared at my face in the dressing room mirror, heavily caked in theatrical make-up, almost grotesque under the glare of bright lights. Only the scarlet lipstick left to apply. I clutched my stomach in an attempt to still what felt inside like a hundred fluttering butterflies. This nervous tension was too much to bear and thought that the pre-theatre dinner may have been a contributory factor. I did however, appreciate the director's kind gesture and was delighted that Frederick my husband, had seemingly enjoyed the occasion too. This was a little unsettling because Frederick could be unpredictable. Outwardly he appeared to be a quiet and unassuming man. Quite ordinary really but I found this trait in him rather attractive. More so than some others who would openly demonstrate their superiority over women. I truly believed that Frederick would support my love of the theatre and the dream that I could one day be on the stage, be anyone I chose to be, leaving behind my girl-next-door persona. Or was this a pipe dream, given the reputation that theatre girls are brash and rebellious. But I liked that rebelliousness and deep inside, I harboured a self-determination to do much more with my life. I was adamant that I was going to get away from suffocating parents and their repugnant views on women pursuing a life in theatre. It was my dream. I had a talent for singing and desperately wanted to star in the current musical "Harmony Heaven". I'd seen it at least four times. To my mind, new-found cinemas simply couldn't compete with live musicals. I decided to rebel against my parents' wishes and secretly join an amateur dramatics society. In this post-war era, I was learning the value of individuality and I wasn't going to let go of it.

Life was so exciting especially now that I had met Frederick. One night after a local performance, he was waiting for me outside the theatre. As I stepped out of the backstage door, I saw him leaning seductively up against the wall. He moved in front of me, smiled and asked me for my autograph. How I laughed. He told me that he adored my singing and that I would one day be famous. I challenged him about pursuing girls who worked in theatres but he replied that he admired those who rebelled against the norm and stood up for what they believed. It was his belief in me that led me along the pathway to love.

So, now I am here, sitting in front of my dresser in my beautiful low-cut, sky blue satin dress, sipping champagne and moments from fulfilling my dream. With deliberate intent, I applied the scarlet lipstick.

I heard a knock on the door. "Ten minutes Miss Eleanor" came the call of the runner.

I stood before the mirror and with the palms of my hands, smoothed the creases from the front of my blue satin dress. As I did so, I recalled the night at the restaurant and how it exuded elegance and sophistication. Attentive waiters were courteous and escorted us to our table. The food was quite delectable, each course tantalising our taste buds. My director had certainly ensured that this was to be an unforgettable experience.

Frederick looked so handsome in his evening dress and his outgoing display of devotion during this pre theatre dinner convinced me that his support for me was genuine but my concern was that he had become increasingly possessive and often had angry outbursts which would humiliate me and embarrass others who had witnessed it. Each time he was sorry and promised to change but the fragility of all his promises and the ease with which he broke them left me bruised and void of all feeling except guilt, for he became an expert at making me feel blameworthy.

At times, Frederick could be loving and caring, particularly when we were alone. We liked to spend time in West Wittering where he would chase me along the sand and into the shallow waves making me squeal with laughter. It was easy then to forgive him what I called his “silly mistakes”. In times like this I felt confident enough to pursue my dream for I was loved and cared for. Occasionally, Frederick would ask me to sing for him and I once suggested that perhaps we could throw a party where I could entertain our friends but he instantly dismissed this idea telling me that they would not appreciate it as he did.

I should have read the signs then, but I brushed away any nagging doubts that were creeping into my head.

I purposefully applied my scarlet lipstick.

I heard a knock on the door “Ten Minutes Miss Eleanor” came the call of the runner.

Staring vacantly into the dressing room mirror, I think back three years to the winter of 1927 which was threatening to be a bleak one. My mother and father apart from living in the vicarage, owned a lot of land which included a gamekeeper’s cottage. I persuaded them that I should take ownership of this two up, two down property and to my surprise they agreed since it was in danger of falling into rack and ruin. One night in November an icy cold wind blew in from the north bringing with it snow that slowly and softly covered the ground in a white blanket. It looked magical from the window of my little cottage but because of the hidden dangers of driving in such weather, I had not expected Frederick to visit. I was feeling quite happy tucked away amongst the Surrey hills and I was in no mood to put up with Frederick’s histrionics. Besides, there was nothing I liked more than snuggling up with my beloved cat Archie. Frederick however, duly arrived in his sturdy and reliable, Austin 16, looking cold and dishevelled, his short mop of black curls blowing chaotically around his face. Despite the disturbance, I was ready to give him a welcome embrace but he pushed passed me, stooping to get through the low lintel of the cottage door and with long strides made his way to the inglenook where burned a roaring fire. With a forceful kick he pushed Archie off the hearthrug before holding out his hands to the flames to warm his hands. Only then did Frederick turn to acknowledge me. I remember feeling so disappointed that he preferred to seek the warmth of the fire instead of my arms and very annoyed that he had been rough with Archie. Frederick chided me when I told him not to torment him. He simply said that it was just a cat and could not understand why I smothered it with affection.

Frederick turned from the fire and came and stood before me wearing his broadest smile. I studied his face and watched as his endearing dimples magically appeared on his cheeks. I remember then that I could do no more than gaze into those impenetrable eyes. As he looked into my eyes, he pulled from his pocket a ring. I was stunned. I thought he was still reeling from a previous failed relationship since he spoke about it with such venom. He did not wait for my answer but instead, talked incessantly about when and where we should be married, telling me how it was his intention to arrange everything. His excitement was infectious and we talked late into the night but with the weather further deteriorating, he eventually went home, leaving me in an emotional turmoil. After a long internal dialogue, I persuaded myself that Frederick would settle if we became a married couple. I looked for Archie to give him a big squeeze and tell him the news but I could not find him anywhere. I never did.

I firmly applied my scarlet lipstick.

I heard a knock on the door. “Ten minutes Miss Eleanor” came the call of the runner.

As I gazed into the mirror I thought about our marriage and how his jealousy became more extreme, particularly when rehearsals were more frequent. He would interrogate me asking me who else was at the session; how long was I going to be; who did I spend the most time with. Sometimes he would stalk me as I made my way to the theatre but even then I was not brave enough to confront him. It was much easier to keep the peace and pretend it was not happening. One evening however, he burst onto the stage and demanded I leave with him. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to the door shouting that I had been out long enough. My fellow players were astonished and were unsure what to do. I tried hard to reason with Frederick telling him he was being irrational and that I thought he was happy for me to be the leading lady for this production. His response was that all wives should be at home, not out behaving like some flapper girl who sleeps with the director to enhance her career. He shouted in my face that it was scandalous and that I should act according to my title and be a HOUSE-WIFE.

I was adamant that I would not be intimated by Frederick any longer. For so long I had seen the coercive relationship my mother endured and vowed that I would not allow myself to become like her. My determination however only fuelled Frederick’s insecurities, intensifying his jealousy. The final straw came on a night at one of our rehearsals. The director suggested we all went out for some celebratory drinks. I knew what the repercussions would be if I joined in but equally, I would betray my own thoughts if I did not. The drinks were flowing and there was a palpable sense of excitement in the room. The director put his arm round me and told me that he believed I could one day be a star. At that moment, Frederick rushed in and, blinded by his jealousy, grabbed my hair and wrenched me away. The director shouted in an attempt to stop him but Frederick did not look back. I begged and pleaded with him all the way home to see reason but it was useless. The argument finally reached a crescendo when Frederick punched me so hard in my stomach that I fainted.

No more I told myself. No more! When all was calm and Frederick was his usual sorry self, I bravely gave him an ultimatum. He either sought help or I would leave him. He laughed initially before anger took over. Then came the usual threat to “kill me before anyone else could have me if I did so much as open the front door”. I told him that nothing would stop me this time unless he tried to get help. Frederick stomped up and down like a disgruntled toddler before agreeing to seek help.

The weekly support sessions with the psychologist had made a difference overall and surprisingly, in a very short space of time. However, there were times, particularly when we were in company, that his eyes would darken from blue to inky black. It was then that I could see the struggle he was having to overpower his jealousy. I remember how nervous I felt.

I liberally applied the scarlet lipstick.

I heard a knock on the door. “Ten minutes Miss Eleanor” came the call of the runner.

At last, opening night. I saw my name on the dressing room door and beamed. I opened the door to a long and narrow room. Not exactly fit for a global star but tonight it was mine. I entered the room and behind the door stood a long metal rail where hung a variety of brightly coloured costumes. My arm brushed up against them disturbing a stale, musty odour, suggesting they had been previously worn by other would-be stars of the stage. A striking satin dress in rich cobalt blue caught my eye and I lifted it off the rail. I held it against me, swaying back and forth, eyes closed, imagining a reactionary gasp from the audience as I stepped through the curtains. On the wall at the end of the room I saw the dressing room mirror surrounded by brightly lit bulbs. On the table, was an array of theatrical make-up in a variety of pots and jars. I picked up one of the pots and the oily smell of greasepaint had excited my senses. Lastly I picked up a small gold case which twisted open to reveal a scarlet lipstick, its colour resembling that of fresh blood, incongruous given its sweet rosy scent. I thought then that it would be the last thing for me to do – coat my lips in scarlet lipstick. As I was changing into the blue satin dress, I heard the door behind me open. I glanced into the mirror and saw a shadowy figure which startled me. I turned quickly to find Frederick holding aloft two glasses of champagne and boisterously announcing that he could not watch me make my debut without first drinking a toast. I remember thinking that I had not seen Frederick this excited for quite some time and felt the usual wave of guilt for not trusting him. I took the glass he offered me and giggled as the lively bubbles tickled my nose. After I had taken a sip, I thought I saw Frederick cast me a furtive glance with eyes darker than the night, but even then, I preferred to think nothing of it. He smiled that broad smile, dimples present on his cheeks, and blew me a kiss before leaving the room.

I coated my lips in the scarlet lipstick.

I heard a knock on the door. “Ten minutes Miss Eleanor” came the call of the runner.

It is only now I realise what Frederick has done. I stared at the body in the crumpled blue satin dress, the spilt champagne and shards of broken glass on the carpet. I had been so close to stardom. During those endless ten-minute pockets of time, I have reflected on my life with Frederick. Over and over again I recalled the happier times we had, only then to remember the deterioration in our relationship, the false promises that Frederick made and my stupidity in believing them. Stupid enough to believe that even in the last ten minutes he had really wanted to wish me good luck. Instead, my life and all that I hoped for was snatched from this world. Initially I was perplexed to find I had entered the afterlife but in finally accepting it, I have been liberated from the boundaries of those last ten minutes. Frederick may have been determined to decline his presence from my stage debut, but now he is about to see a performance from me, and Archie, that will be like no other. A performance that will not require the application of scarlet lipstick.

THE END

Lynne Sunners

19th November 2025

2570 words