Dear Villain Page 5

  'Correct,' agreed Val with a laugh.

  'See you Monday—'bye,' and Liz went happily on her way, confident that Val Grey would be an agreeable companion to work with. She collected her coat and popped her head into Polly's office to say goodbye. Polly, glasses perched on the end of her nose and pencil behind her ear, said:

  'I'm glad you've looked in, Liz. Stop off at the stage door, there's a couple of messages for you.'

  Liz collected them on her way out. One was from Helen, asking for Liz to ring her up that evening, and the other was from Simon saying he would call for her at three on Sunday afternoon to take her over to Stretton.

  Heavily laden with shopping, Liz staggered from the bus to The Laurels. Climbing the stairs, she stopped half-way and sniffed appreciatively, hoping the appetising smell wafting towards her was coming from the flat and not the bed-sit above. It was.

  'Judy, you angel, what's that a-cooking?' she called as she flopped into the nearest chair.

  'Spaghetti and rissoles a la Lawson,' replied the angel in question, coming from the kitchen. 'Really, Liz, it's ridiculous for you to shop like this. We'll arrange for you to come on our weekly shopping excursion with the girls upstairs, they've got a car. It makes life so much easier.' She disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of wine in each hand. 'Here, I thought we'd celebrate our union. Put yourself outside this,' she ordered.

  Liz grinned. 'With pleasure.'

  'I'll dish up now, are you hungry?'

  'I could eat a horse, I only had a coffee and cob for lunch.'

  'Well, I have my doubts about the meat, but I don't think it's horse!' grinned Judy, returning with two steaming plates of food. 'How did you get on this morning, did you call in at Elmscourt and see to the fridge?'

  Liz wound a long strand of spaghetti carefully round her fork.

  'Oh, I called in all right,' she said, her voice full of meaning. Seeing the questioning look on her friend's face she continued: 'The wretched man was in residence. Yes, you may smile, but it wasn't funny.' She thoughtfully sipped her wine and reflected, rather wistfully: 'Nothing is perfect, is it? I was so looking forward to this job. After this morning, any hopes that Adam Carlyon is going to be easy to work with have been quickly dispelled. He was full of smiling sarcasm. I nearly hit him!'

  'Surely you must have considered all the implications before you took the job?'

  'No, for the simple reason I didn't know he was going to be here. When I did know, yes, I did consider things. Through rosy-coloured specs, obviously. Oh, bother the man!' she said crossly. 'I wish I'd cleared the air right away and perhaps we could have agreed to forget our differences.'

  Judy frowned thoughtfully. 'That row you had must have hurt his feelings more than you realised.'

  'No,' said Liz slowly, 'I just hurt his pride… and then he hurt mine. We were quits then—I'm not so sure about now.'

  'Liz, you were obviously at a disadvantage this morning. When you start working, everything will be much better, you'll see. Probably seeing you again brought it all back and now he's regretting what he said. Are you sure it was only his pride that was hurt?'

  Liz looked at her in surprise. 'Quite sure,' she said firmly. 'He never showed that he felt anything deeper than just a casual affair, and the number of luscious females he squired around afterwards certainly didn't indicate a broken heart! But you're right,' she agreed, determined to look on the bright side. 'Once production is under way I'll make sure things go smoothly.' She frowned gloomily. 'The only difficulty is going to be my dear sister. John Harvey and Adam Carlyon are firm friends and Helen is bound to include me in her scheme of things like she did in London. Although,' she added with a grin, 'I reckon Carlyon will soon put a stop to that.' She finished her wine. 'That was lovely, Judy, we'll have to splash out on a bottle again. By the way, I've a telephone call to make. Where's the nearest callbox?'

  'There's no need to go out, haven't yon noticed the extension phone on the landing? Just press the button and they'll give you a line from downstairs.'

  'That's useful, what do we do about paying?'

  'There's a box on the wall, we have a trusting landlord.'

  Helen's voice came overloaded with exasperation. 'Lizzie, why haven't you rung before? We're just on our way out.'

  'Sorry, Helen, I couldn't manage it earlier. What do you want? Anything special or just a general chat?'

  'Both really, but now there's only time for the main item. Will you come over on Sunday? Adam's coming too and we can discuss the christening.'

  Bless you, brother Simon, Liz thought thankfully, for a social meeting so soon with Adam Carlyon was to be avoided at all costs.

  'Oh dear, I am sorry, Helen, I can't make it Sunday. Simon's taking me to see the parents.' There was a pause and Liz could imagine her sister's mind furiously going over alternative possibilities.

  'What a nuisance! Oh, you'd better go as you've got a lift.'

  'Thank you,' Liz said meekly, and heard her sister laugh.

  'Well, I'd got it all planned,' Helen protested.

  Then you can jolly well unplan it, thought Liz unrepentantly.

  Still slightly put out, Helen said quickly:

  'I'll have to go, John's just brought the car round. Give my love to Mother and tell her I'll see her Tuesday, as usual. 'Bye, Liz.'

  Liz went thoughtfully back into the flat. Adam Carlyon's friendship with her sister and husband was something she would definitely have to contend with.

  Saturday passed lazily. Liz caught up with personal jobs and in the evening she prepared herself for a session in front of the television. Judy, looking very attractive, was on her way out to a dance. She paused reluctantly at the door, saying:

  'Are you sure you won't let me ring round and find a fourth?'

  'Quite sure,' said Liz firmly. 'As you said, doctors plan their evenings off well in advance, so you probably wouldn't find a fourth anyway, and I'm certainly not going to play gooseberry! I shall be perfectly all right. You go off and wow him with that stunning dress.'

  Their door bell gave three long rings.

  'That's him now,' said Judy, pulling on her gloves. 'I might bring him back for coffee and then again, I might not. But don't go to bed early on my account,' she added quickly.

  'I won't,' promised Liz with a grin. The three rings sounded again. 'For goodness' sake go—he's getting impatient.' With a smile and a swish of skirt, Judy hurried out, and Liz sat back and waited to be entertained.

  Sunday started off wet, but by midday the sun was making a brave showing. Judy knocked on the bathroom door.

  'Liz? The door bell's just gone. Do you think this could be your brother?'

  'Bother, he's early for a change and I'm still wallowing. Let him in, Judy, there's a pal, and I'll get a move on.'

  'Your flat-mate seems acceptable,' Simon said, as they bowled along the country road.

  'Oh, more than just acceptable,' protested Liz. 'I feel as if I've known her for ages and I'm sure she'll become a real friend.'

  'Mmm. If I hadn't met her I might be sceptical, knowing your impulsive way of making real friends in the past. But this time I think you may well be right.'

  'Isn't that just typical! Just because I had a few let-downs when I was younger,' Liz broke off and laughed. 'Do you remember that awful Donna girl? It took me ages to shake her off.'

  'Her, and a few others,' grumbled Simon.

  'They all, if I remember rightly, ended up with a crush on you.'

  'In that, they showed good taste,' said Simon, grinning.

  'Modesty was never your strong point, brother dear. Do you think we could bring Judy with us some time? I'd like her to meet Mum and Dad.'

  'By all means, if you think you can squeeze your long legs into the back. We can hardly ask her to.'

  Liz glanced behind her critically. 'Oh, I should think I could manage. I'm doing well this week,' she mused, 'first a ride in a Morgan V8 and now one in a Triumph Stag. I don't know why you ever taught
me to drive, Simon, all I'll ever be able to afford is a moped!'

  'You ought to keep your hand in, Liz, you can drive on the way back,' said Simon generously. 'Whose was the Morgan?' he added with interest.

  'Adam Carlyon's. He gave me a lift yesterday into the theatre.'

  'Oh, he's arrived, then? And has a Morgan, eh? I'd like to have a look round that. Ah, here's the turning for Stretton. We'll be there in a few minutes, so prepare yourself for the inquisition.'

  Their parents' house, situated in a semi-rural area, was a pleasant change from city surroundings. Liz lay contentedly in a deckchair, watching the tall, slightly stooping figure of her father talking to Simon in the greenhouse. Her mother came from the house carrying a tray of tea things, placing it carefully on the garden table. Liz gazed at her with admiration, wondering if she would be as attractive at fifty-five. The auburn hair might have turned silvery and her figure -plumper than she herself wished, but Laura Browning still maintained that certain something that had attracted the young Laurence Browning over thirty years ago.

  'Did you know that Helen and John have asked Adam Carlyon to be godfather to Emma?' Liz asked, taking her cup of tea.

  'Yes, dear, she told me when she was over last. A very clever man. Rather difficult to get to know, but I like him.' She paused and added thoughtfully: 'I think I'd sooner have him as a friend than an enemy, although I can imagine him having enemies but not being one, if you see what I mean.' Seeing her daughter's puzzled face, she explained: 'He seems so self-sufficient that I can't imagine him being bothered, being an enemy, I mean.'

  Liz managed to sort out her mother's slightly rambling analysis and said with a grin:

  'You mean he'd just ignore you, like dust beneath his feet?'

  'Mmm… yes, dear, something like that. Perhaps not quite so theatrical,' said Mrs Browning, pouring out the tea into the remaining cups.

  'I didn't even know you'd met him, as he wasn't at Helen's wedding.'

  'Now then, let me see… I must have met him about two years ago. Yes, he was travelling north to do a play in Edinburgh and he brought Helen up for a surprise visit and we persuaded him to stay over for the weekend. He got on very well with your father, I remember. We must invite him over for a meal while he's here.'

  Oh, my lord, thought Liz in dismay.

  'Take the menfolk their tea, Lizzie, we'll not prise your father out of there. Then you can come and tell me all your news.'

  The afternoon and evening passed quickly and soon it was time to make for home. Liz drove and thanked Simon for his forbearance, persuading him to come in for a drink. After he had left, Liz waited for some comment from Judy about him, and was slightly disappointed when one was not forthcoming.

  The theatre on the Monday morning was a hive of activity.

  'I see I'm down to understudy if necessary,' Liz commented to Polly. 'Not that I'm unduly worried. Actors tend to go on even at death's door.'

  'Still, Liz, there must be times when accidents or serious illnesses occur?' replied Polly as she sorted out the post.

  'Yes, there are, and lead understudies can learn a tremendous amount if they want to and a good director is involved.'

  The outer door opened and John walked briskly through, saying:

  'Good morning, ladies.' They returned his greeting and Polly followed him into his office leaving the communicating door slightly ajar. Liz, chin on hand, watched her brother-in-law opening his letters. Memories came flooding back of Helen, acting out plays in the garden with an unwilling Simon, who had to be bribed, and a more than willing Liz, who did not mind what she had to do. There was always a prince, the knight in shining armour, who was to take Helen away on a huge white charger to the land of enchantment. Liz thought with amusement that Helen's ideal had since had a radical change as no one could call John a knight in shining armour—although, she thought in sudden surprise, perhaps to Helen he was.

  'Have you seen Prince Charming yet, Lizzie?'

  Polly's question, coming so abruptly after her own reminiscences of enchanted lands, princes and princesses, made her jump. She didn't need to ask who Polly was speaking of.

  'Oh, no, don't tell me there's another of you,' Liz said, in resignation. 'I have enough with your junior and the girls on the switchboard mooning over his photograph, without you as well.'

  Polly laughed. 'Well, you must admit he's very attractive.'

  Liz got up. 'If you like that lean and hungry Cassius look. He's too much of a ladies' man for me, Poll, I'd never be able to trust him out of my sight. No. Mr Adam Carlyon will have to do without me in his fan club.'

  Suddenly aware of Polly's look of consternation, Liz turned and came face to face with the Prince Charming is question. The dark eyes glinted, but he said easily enough:

  'Perhaps you should explain to Miss Browning that one has to be accepted before one can join.'

  There was a moment's silence and then Polly came to the rescue.

  'I hope you found your flat comfortable, Mr Carlyon?'

  'Thank you, yes, very pleasant. Is Mr Harvey free?'

  'Yes, he's just off the telephone now. You can go in, he's expecting you.'

  Which, thought Liz, was more than I had been.

  'Thank you.' He smiled briefly at her and walked to John'! door, turning to Liz before going through.

  'I'll be ready for everyone at ten and the cast this after noon at two-thirty—promptly, if you please.'

  Liz gazed at the closed door with dismay. Polly said soothingly:

  'Don't look so stricken, child. His bark's worse than his bite. I can't understand why he doesn't appeal to you, Lizzie I think you're just determined to be contrary. Never mind The girls and I will more than make up for one dissenter Did you see that gorgeous smile he gave me?' She closed her eyes in a state of ecstasy and Liz laughed because it was expected of her. As she left the office, she realised that she only had herself to blame. Hadn't she vowed to be cool calm and efficient? Impress the man with her capabilities! And then to say that—just as he walked in! She frowned and chewed her bottom lip. Should she apologise, she wondered, or just pretend that the whole thing had never happened and make sure it didn't again?

  Deep in thought, she turned a corner and suddenly found herself in a crushing bear-hug. Her folder of papers crashed to the floor, spilling out in all directions, and she was whirled round and round until she laughingly begged for mercy. Deposited once more on to solid ground, Liz looked up at the giant before her. The smiling face was framed in a shaggy, curly beard which Liz delightedly reached up and tugged.

  'Martin Sutton! I might have known you'd arrived when I felt the foundations rock! And what gives with all these whiskers?'

  His deep laugh echoed along the corridor and Liz thought what an ideal Petruchio he would make. A few years older than herself, he was tall and broad and had a gorgeously fruity voice and the disposition of a lamb.

  'Lizzie Browning, by all that's wonderful!' Martin's blue eyes twinkled down at her. 'I've just this minute heard you were here. How are you, girl dear? Still as beautiful as ever, I see.'

  'Get away with you, you old reprobate. The blarney of your Irish forefathers coming out again.' Footsteps sounded behind them and Adam Carlyon came into sight at the other end of the corridor. This really isn't my day, Liz thought, and hissed:

  'Let me go, you idiot! Here's the big boss.' She thumped his chest in vain as his arms tightened and with a grin, Martin gave her a quick, bristly kiss and a resounding smack on her bottom. As Carlyon approached Martin waited with a wicked gleam in his eyes, thoroughly enjoying the situation. Liz hurriedly picked up her scattered papers and clutching them to her, introduced the two men, involuntarily noting the contrast they made; Martin large, friendly and jovial and Carlyon, as tall but lean and as enigmatic as ever.

  With a muttered excuse Liz left them to it and rushed round chivvying everyone into the rehearsal room. First rehearsals are usually untidy affairs. A mixture of affable condescension, gushing greeti
ngs and juicy gossip, with everyone eyeing each other warily, like suspicious dogs. This one, although not a rehearsal in the true sense, was no exception.

  Taking the opportunity of distributing the scripts and rehearsal schedules, Liz became aware that John Harvey was taking Carlyon round the room, informally introducing him to everyone. She hurriedly checked her list to see who was present; head of design, scenic, painter, electrical and maintenance engineers and technicians, property master, flyman, assistant stage managers, wardrobe mistress and head carpenter. The management side was easy, the list of actors was not so easy as most of them, apart from Martin who had just sauntered in, were not so well known to her. The attractive brunette who was smiling at Adam Carlyon at this moment was obviously Louise James, and by the way she reached up and kissed him it was just as obvious that they were not strangers, even allowing for the effusiveness of theatricals.

  Sam Warner, head carpenter, caught her eye and winked. She smiled back. John was coming towards her now and Liz allowed the smile to remain, receiving one in return. As her eyes passed to the man at his side her smile faltered slightly.

  'There's no need to introduce you to Liz, is there, Adam?' asked John, grinning as if he had said something funny. At least he's playing the game, thought Liz thankfully to herself as Carlyon returned her smile, although it didn't reach his eyes.

  'It's always a pleasure to meet Elizabeth,' came his reply, and Liz found her hand taken in a firm grip. 'I haven't had the chance to say how pleased I am to find you working here.'

  Under the level gaze, Liz said quietly:

  'Thank you. May I say how extremely lucky we are to have your services,' and meeting the sceptical widening of his dark eyes, felt her colour rise. John, blissfully unaware, said:

  'Paul Scott won't make it this morning, Liz, after all, so can you take over and make any notes that you think are necessary?'

  Liz murmured, 'Of course,' and made her way to the table at the top of the room, seating herself between the two directors. She allowed her gaze to wander over the sea of faces before her and now that they were really and truly beginning, a happy feeling surged through her. This was the work she loved doing and knew she did well, and it must on no account be jeopardised by anyone. Concentrating on what John was saying, she managed, in some part, to forget the man sitting at her side.