I’d been so looking forward to the grand re-opening of the Theatre Royal and while I admit the event itself was wonderful, George’s harsh words afterwards have hit me like a brick. Every time I remember him saying there’s been ‘talk’ about me a cold shiver runs through my stomach.
I realise now that he suspects something. But how and how much does he know? Goodness, listen to me, I sound like a criminal! I feel wretched.
Does George even know that Frank exists? My mind is raging, I have the worst headache!
The oddest thing is George was so courteous to me over breakfast this morning, you’d have thought nothing had happened. But to be honest his calmness is making me feel worse, it only highlights what a bad person I am and how innocent he is.
If only I knew what he was thinking, I need to find out what he’s heard; these rumours he couldn’t bring himself to say. Who would be low enough to repeat gossip about me to George? Betty? No. Even though I was a heel to not tell her about Frank, I don’t think she’s spiteful enough to do such a thing.
That only leaves one other person; someone who makes it their business to meddle in my personal affairs. But God forbid it’s her!
I'm going to have to pay a visit to Mother