Dear Villain Page 6

  The informal meeting got under way. The season's plays were discussed, ideas and problems aired and Liz's notebook ended up with quite a few pages filled.

  'Any more questions?' John asked, scanning his audience expectantly. 'No? Good. In that case, I think that's all from me for now, except that I want to take this opportunity of welcoming our guest producer, Adam Carlyon. We all know what having him. here means to the theatre and I know that he… But he doesn't need me to speak for him. Adam?' and John sat down smiling.

  Adam Carlyon seemed reluctant, but after a burst of spontaneous applause he got to his feet and leaning on the table, gazed intently round the room.

  'I expect you've all inspected the theatre and can't wait to either get your hands on the admirable modern equipment or tread the boards on that superb stage.' There was an audible response and Carlyon paused, a half-smile on his face. 'I'm not going to wax eloquent, but we're in at the beginning of the Queensbridge Civic and we're making history. And while we have every right to be jubilant about our new theatre we are, in fact, sitting on the top of a time bomb. In an age when more theatres are being demolished than built, it's extremely unlikely that this theatre will pay its way. As much as we should like to be self-sufficient, it's doubtful whether we will be, even with the promised grants from the Arts and city councils and public donations. We'll have to work with the bare minimum of staff and actors, and our first year will be the most important.' He raised a brow. 'You notice I say "our". Although my presence here is only transitory, I feel very much involved and I'm sure we'll all work together to the one end. The success of this new theatre should be, and will be, a personal aim for all of us.'

  Watching the response to Carlyon's speech, Liz wondered at the magnetism of the man. The meeting came to its obvious close and there was a noisy mass exodus.

  'Sorry you couldn't make it yesterday, Liz, perhaps we'll see you next weekend?.

  'That would be nice, John, thank you.' For what else could she say? Liz flicked the pages of her notebook. 'Who wants these?'

  'Adam?' John turned to Carlyon, who was perched on the end of the table, deep in thought. 'Will you have these notes?' Carlyon nodded and John looked at his watch. 'Right. I'd better get a move on. I'm off now for an interview with local radio. See you both later.'

  As the door closed behind him silence settled oppressively over the room. Liz, in a voice which she hoped epitomised efficiency, said:

  'I'll type these notes out for you, Mr Carlyon, as you'll never be able to decipher them as they are.' She pretended to read them through, wondering why Carlyon didn't go and wishing he would.

  'Elizabeth?' She turned slowly and faced him, pushing a strand of hair nervously behind her ear. He was standing at the far end of the table, eyes narrowed, hollows of cheeks darkly shaded.

  'How well do you know Sutton?'

  Liz had expected a very different question—her stupid remark earlier lying uncomfortably on her conscience whenever she looked at him. She almost laughed with the relief and said cheerfully:

  'Martin? Oh, ages. We went through drama school together and I've worked with him a couple of times, though not recently.'

  'Mm…' The sound was noncommittal. He began to push papers into his briefcase and Liz hesitated, wondering if there was anything more to come. There was. 'He seems an exuberant type. A good actor, but by all accounts needful of discipline, both on and off the stage. It would be a help if you wouldn't encourage him to act the fool.' Her mouth didn't actually drop open, but Liz was certainly speechless for some seconds. To her disgust her voice, when she found it, wobbled.

  'Mr Carlyon, I'm sure you're wrong. Martin may have been rather undisciplined at one time, but that was years ago. He's one of the most dedicated people I know in the theatre. (Afterwards, the pomposity of that remark was to make her cringe.) It's unfair to blame Martin because you're annoyed with me…'

  'Indeed,' agreed Carlyon, 'that would be petty.'

  Liz reddened under his cool scrutiny. 'Mr Carlyon, I apologise for that inane remark I made in the office this morning, it was stupid and uncalled-for, but,' she took a much needed breath, 'I see no reason why I should apologise for my behaviour in greeting an old friend… and never once have I been accused of doing less than my job!'

  To her fury Liz was nearly in tears, and not for the world would she let that hateful man see them. Turning away, she blindly began to collect her writing equipment from the desk. She heard Carlyon's footsteps come towards her and willed them to pass. They stopped behind her and his voice was infuriatingly reasonable.

  'As usual, you've flown off at a tangent. Your inane remark, as you call it, was so childish it's not worth considering, although I had hoped you could keep your dislike of me away from the theatre. It's difficult enough as it is to control a group of people without having subversive activity on one's doorstep.'

  'It wasn't like that,' Liz broke in defensively. 'I could tell you didn't believe what I said about us being lucky having you, but it's true, I admire your work tremendously…'

  'And I have been assured by those who know you,' continued the even voice, 'that you are an experienced and reliable DSM, and I'm willing to be equally convinced. But we were not discussing you, were we? Your loyalty to Sutton does you credit, but the fact remains that he has the reputation of sometimes being a handful, and I should be glad if you would help me by discouraging his high spirits inside the theatre.'

  'He's a good actor,' protested Liz.

  'Yes, he is,' agreed Carlyon, 'or else he wouldn't be here.'

  After a pause, in which it seemed as though he was waiting for her to speak, Carlyon said:

  'There's no need to type the notes. You've enough to do and I can remember most of it.'

  Kindness now was not to be borne. 'I prefer to type them out, Mr Carlyon,' she said stiffly.

  'Very well, if you insist. And Elizabeth?' A hand reached out and turned her face. 'If you address me personally as Mr Carlyon again, I won't answer to the consequences—do you understand?'

  The door burst open and Louise entered.

  'Adam! I've been searching all over for you! I've been lost twice in this enormous place.' She smiled at Liz. 'We ought to have a ground plan for the first few days. Adam, I thought you were taking me to lunch? I'll wait if you're busy, but if you're not, may we go? I'm starving!'

  'I think I've finished here, Louise. Lead on.' And with another quick smile from Louise and a curt nod from Carlyon, they went out.

  Liz had a good cry which made her feel better but didn't do the notes any good.

  'Go to Jail, Move directly to Jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred pounds. That,' said Martin in disgust, 'is the story of my life in this flipping game. I'm obviously not cut out to be a property owner.'

  'You're so rash, Martin,' said Judy. 'You ought to be like Simon, old property-bags himself, cool, calm and speculative.'

  Simon sprawled back in his chair and smiled lazily. There were ten people sitting round the fully extended dining table in The Laurels' flat—the girls from upstairs and their boyfriends, a young doctor and nurse, friends of Judy's, Martin, Simon, Judy and Liz.

  'I always think Monopoly brings out the worst in people,' commented Liz, shaking the dice and watching them fall, 'and that puts me right out of the game completely. I wonder why I thought the "old boot" was lucky?'

  'Good,' said Judy with satisfaction. 'I'm glad someone's out. Go and get the coffee, Lizzie, there's a dear,' she asked persuasively. 'Lucky seven! Bother, I've landed on Mayfair.'

  'All right, but I don't think coffee is going to help any of you. The writing is on the wall,' said Liz with a laugh, going into the kitchen.

  Humming happily to herself, she sorted out an assortment of mugs and cups. It did not seem possible that she had only been back in Queensbridge for a week; it seemed like months, everything settling into routine so well. She had been worried about Adam Carlyon's attitude towards her during work, but she need not have been. He
was courteous and polite, not over-friendly, but then he was the same with everyone, except Louise who was a favoured person. A loud burst of laughter came from the other room heralding the arrival of Martin, a resigned look on his face.

  'I've come to help, Lizzie girl. I got out of jail only to fall foul of your dear brother. Actually,' he said teasingly, putting his arms round her, 'I rather think they're missing out on something in there,' and he kissed her gently.

  'Mm…' said Liz appreciatively, 'I rather think you're right.'

  'Break it up, you two,' said Judy, opening the door. 'Liz, you've got a visitor.'

  Looking beyond Judy, Liz saw Adam Carlyon waiting quietly by the outer door. Freeing herself from Martin's arms, she walked hesitantly over to him as Judy said with a grin:

  'I'll take over in here,' and closed the kitchen door. Carlyon glanced at the group round the table and said:

  'I'm sorry to interrupt, Elizabeth, but I did telephone earlier and received no answer.'

  'Oh, dear. The extension can't be through and the owners are away for the weekend,' she said apologetically.

  'I was passing in this direction and seeing the lights and the cars outside, I guessed you were in.'

  'Oh, yes?' said Liz uncertainly.

  'If the time's convenient to you, I'll collect you at two-thirty tomorrow.'

  'Oh, but…'

  'You are going to John's?'

  'Yes, but…'

  'You have transport?'

  Shaking her head, Liz was aware of the shouts of laughter coming from the other end of the room. Adam Carlyon, immaculately dressed in evening suit, looked completely out of place amongst all the sweaters and jeans, empty cans of beer and crisps packets.

  'I should imagine you could put up with my company for the length of the journey?' asked a bored Carlyon.

  'Yes, of course,' answered Liz before she realised what she had said, and her sense of humour coming to the rescue, she added: 'I'd put up with almost anyone for a ride in a V8 Morgan,' and was rewarded by the startled look on his face and the spontaneous smile that suddenly appeared.

  'Will you stay for coffee, Mr Carlyon?' asked Judy, coming out of the kitchen with a laden tray, her face suspiciously flushed.

  'No, thank you. I must go. Goodnight, everyone,' and Liz led the way down the stairs and with another 'Goodnight,' closed the front door after him. Coming thoughtfully back into the flat, she found the game had been abandoned and bodies were sprawled round the fire. Not long after, the lateness of the hour was noted and the group disbanded.

  'Shall we clear the place now? I hate finding everywhere a mess in the morning, it puts me in a bad mood.' Judy yawned and grabbed the waste bin, emptying the ashtrays and collecting the rubbish. 'So that's your Adam Carlyon. He's even more devastating in the flesh, isn't he?' Liz smiled but didn't say anything. 'What did he want?'

  Liz told her, adding, 'And for goodness' sake, he's not my Adam Carlyon!'

  'All right, all right, don't be so touchy, it's just a figure of speech,' answered Judy mildly. 'I see what you mean about fatal charm, but give the man his due, it's part of him. I mean, that voice—he's wasted as a director.'

  'I'd hoped he wouldn't be there tomorrow.'

  'You've got to meet him socially some time, the sooner the better,' said Judy matter-of-factly. 'In a familiar atmosphere things are bound to be easier. I mean, he's hardly likely to bite your head off there.'

  'Hope you're right, and I have kept out of his bad books for the whole of this week.'

  'There you are,' Judy said with assurance. 'Martin's a laugh, isn't he? Does he make a good Petruchio?'

  'Yes,' replied Liz with a smile, 'both he and Louise are well cast. Of course, it's early days yet, but I think we've got a winner. You'll come and see it, won't you? Perhaps we could get tonight's crowd to come? It's been fun, hasn't it?'

  'Mm…' agreed Judy, switching off the fire. 'Often these impromptu do's are the nicest. 'Night, Liz, sleep well.'

  Liz woke rather late the following morning to a banging on her door.

  'Liz, telephone, it's your father.'

  Slightly concerned, Liz pulled on her dressing gown and went to the telephone.

  'Hello, Dad? Lizzie here, anything wrong?'

  'Ah, Lizzie, my dear. I wonder if you can help. Your mother has a nasty headache and is being awkward about going back to bed. She promised to go and see your great-aunt this afternoon and doesn't want to disappoint the old lady. I've got General Carter coming over and I can't get hold of him to put him off. Could you go instead? I know Annie will be pleased to see you.'

  Reprieve! thought Liz jubilantly.

  'Not to worry, Dad. Tell Mum to go to bed. I'll certainly go over, I haven't seen Annie for ages and it's a lovely day, I'll enjoy the bus ride.'

  'Good girl. Not to worry about your mother, I'm sure she'll be better after a rest. Explain things to your aunt and tell her we'll get over during the week.'

  Feeling pleased with herself, Liz dialled Helen's number and imparted the news. She might have known her dear sister would throw a spanner in the works. Helen's animated voice came enthusiastically over the telephone.

  'What a splendid idea, Lizzie, we'll all go! Adam will love Annie's cottage.'

  'Ye gods, Helen, you can't take him there!' exclaimed a horrified Liz. 'You know what Annie's like. We'd not have a minute's peace wondering what she'll say next.'

  'Fiddlesticks! Adam will love her, she's a fascinating character. Rather outspoken, perhaps, but Adam will understand that elderly eccentric maiden ladies have their, little whims and foibles.'

  There was no stopping Helen once she got going and Liz listened helplessly to all her fine plans crumbling to pieces.

  'I'll take a hamper with us and we'll have a picnic in the orchard. You and Adam had better make your way straight there, we'll see you about three.'

  Liz could not have got a word in if she had tried and she resigned herself to concentrating on Helen's instructions. She put the phone down and wandered back into the kitchen where a sympathetic Judy was making scones.

  'That'll teach me to play about with fate,' grumbled Liz, breaking out into a snort of laughter. 'Can you imagine Adam Carlyon picnicking in the orchard? Still,' she conceded, 'I've never seen him in the country before. No doubt he'll astound me by being as much at home there as in his usual habitat.'

  'I reckon it would take more than anyone's great-aunt to disconcert Mr C.!' remarked Judy.

  'Normally I'd agree with you—but you don't know our Annie,' retorted Liz. 'And I've now realised that instead of travelling the four miles to Helen's, it's at least twenty to the cottage. Oh, well, there's nothing I can do about it,' and she wandered into her bedroom to get dressed.

  'You aren't,' asked Judy with interest, 'by any chance going in those?'

  They had finished lunch and Judy was icing a sponge cake, frowning in concentration as she piped tiny stars round the edge. Liz looked down at her paint-smeared jeans and laughed.

  'No, I'll go and change.' She was undecided what to wear and browsed moodily through her wardrobe. One or two articles were chosen and then discarded. For goodness' sake, make up your mind, woman, she told herself crossly. Anyone would think this outing was important! Hearing the front door bell and then the murmur of voices in the next room, she quickly pulled out a cotton sleeveless dress. It was not very smart, but Liz liked its simplicity and it was cool and comfortable, quite suitable for a picnic. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals, thankful that her legs were nicely tanned, and collecting a cardigan in case the weather turned cooler, she joined Adam Carlyon and Judy, who were sitting, relaxed and at ease, chatting as if they had known each other all their lives. Adam rose to his feet as she came into the room.

  'Hello, Elizabeth. I understand there's been a change of plan. You'll have to point the way, I'm afraid.'

  Judy, looking out of the window, said: 'So that's the beautiful monster I've been hearing about?'

  He sighed heavily.
'You girls do much for my morale. I quite realise what an attraction the Morgan is. Some other time, perhaps?'

  Judy dimpled, 'Yes, please!'

  Saying goodbye to a grinning Judy, Liz made her way to the beautiful monster and Adam opened the door for her to get in. She managed this with comparative dignity and although rather pleased that her legs were worth seeing, thought that in the circumstances it might have been better had she worn trousers. As Adam eased himself into the driver's seat Liz cleared her throat nervously and said with a rush:

  'I'm very conscious of the fact that you've been lumbered with this visit… and with me.' She gave a short laugh. 'There's no stopping Helen once she gets an idea into her head,' she explained apologetically.

  He gave her a penetrating look. 'I don't feel lumbered with either the visit, or with you, so you can relax.'

  Reaching out, he switched on the ignition. The engine throbbed to life and as he slipped smoothly into gear Adam Carlyon turned to her and said:

  'I very rarely do anything I don't want to, Elizabeth— will you remember that?' and the Morgan eased its way with a self-satisfied purr down the road.

  CHAPTER 3

  Teasing, teasing man, I will think no more about him!

  Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice

  Liz gave Adam the directions and lay back, eyes closed, feeling the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. Quite frankly, she was glad that the hood was down, making normal conversation practically impossible. When they got to Annie's, John and Helen could take over and until then perhaps she could keep out of trouble—if she kept her mouth shut!

  The Morgan swung off the road and drew up on to the forecourt of a petrol station. Adam switched off and uncoiled his long body out of the low seat. A young attendant came up wiping his hands on a rag and looking with keen interest at the car.