Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

■ Concluding the intimate diary of Brenda Cummings, who found in re-marriage anguish and ecstasy, poverty and riches — and the fulfillment of a great love They accused Grant of the crime, and he would have been convicted if at the last moment the real murderer— the husband of a woman with whom Peter had been having a love-affair — had not confessed. I like to remember the brief period of happiness that was ours after Grant's acquittal. Mimi Hale had gone away, convinced at last that Grant and I must be left to work out our own salvation. But Nana Norton, a musical-comedy star whom I mistrusted on sight, persuaded Grant to back her in a new show — and Nana Norton is responsible for our estrangement and unhappiness right now. She's entirely unprincipled, but fascinating, and she set out to win Grant away from me. I could have fought for him, but when relations between us became so strained that Grant turned against Dick and Fran, I couldn't stand any more. I moved out of his home, taking the children with me. It's just luck that I was able to shoot up to my present financial success. It doesn't even bring me any satisfaction, beyond the knowledge that Dick and Fran are provided for. I happened to get a small part in a new play — the star was so difficult they had to let her go — and Christopher Harwood, the producer, who had been very sweet and friendly from the first, let me read the leading role. It must have been some hidden awareness that I simply had to make good, that helped me to impress Mr. Harwood, the director, and the author at the audition; and made me a success beyond anyone's wildest hopes on the opening night. Goodness knows, I never thought of myself as an actress! So I'm rich, and famous . . . but that fact seems remarkably unimportant beside Grant's silence. I saw him once, after I left his home, MARCH, 1940 and then he told me that he was through with Nana Norton — but the very same day I learned that he was backing her in a moving picture appearance. He'd never lied to me before. Then came silence, and I heard he was out of town. Has he really gone to Hollywood, to make advance arrangements for Nana Norton's picture career? June 3rd . . . TODAY I met Nana Norton on the street. Even when I'm an old lady I'll shrivel up inside at the way she gloated when we were parting and, looking back over her shoulder, she called, "Oh, by the way, Grant's back. He telephoned me first thing this morning, just after he got in." But he hadn't called me, at all. June 5th . . . Today was Ben Porter's birthday. Dear old Ben! He may be Grant's agent for his western properties, but somehow he remains loyal to me as well. I had Miss Reed, my secretary, buy a big pigskin wallet — the biggest one the store had — for him. It wasn't the birthday present Ben wanted, however. And he said so. "Honey," he told me, "maybe I oughtn't be saying so, but the only present I want is to see you and Mr. Cummin's together again." • I began to weep. I wept these days if anyone looked at me. I feel as if there was nothing inside me but a network of quivering nerves. June 6th . . . I'll try to make sense. But my head and heart are so filled with songs of thanksgiving that I don't know whether little practical words will come from them . . . Grant and I are together again. He loves me! And it was Ben Porter and Nana Norton who sent him back to me! When Ben left me yesterday he went to Grant's office. Grant had just sent Nana and her manager packing, told them he was through with them. They had come to his office on some business matter. But Nana, who had had too many cocktails for luncheon, began to talk. And she talked too much. She gave Grant clues concerning several cruel things she had done to me — in an effort to estrange me from Grant finally and completely. On top of this it needed only Ben's white lie to send Grant to me, post-haste. "Mr. Cummin's," Ben told Grant, "if my wife was as sick as Brenda is down there at the theater, gosh hang it, I'd want to be looking after her." Quite deliberately he made Grant think I was really, physically ill. All the way to the theater he pictured me as being carried off in an ambulance. When he saw me in my dressing room his relief at finding me well was so great that it broke down all the barriers of pride and misunderstanding between us. Now I am home again. In Grant's home, where I belong, surrounded once more by his love. 31