Dear Villain Read online

  'You'll catch it, Elizabeth, waking her up to play.'

  'I didn't,' she whispered indignantly. 'She was awake when I came in.'

  'A likely story, eh, Emma?' The baby gurgled in agreement and raised two chubby hands.

  'I bet you've already been in to her,' Liz accused, receiving an innocent, pained look. Adam Carlyon turned back to Emma and put finger to lip. Liz bent down and turned her on to her side, smiling as Emma immediately twisted her head so that she could still see them. 'I suppose we ought to go, we're a bad influence.'

  They tiptoed out, softly closing the door. Breath held, Liz waited a few moments to see if there would be any protest, but there was none and she smiled her relief. As they were going down the stairs, Liz asked:

  'Adam, is Scotty here?'

  'Paul? No, I don't think so. Why?'

  'I hope he's gone home as he didn't look well this afternoon.'

  Carlyon frowned. 'He hasn't looked too good all week, has he? I'll keep my eye on him tomorrow during the technical rehearsal.'

  They had reached the lounge by now and Liz received a sharp look from Tracey as they entered. She was surprised at the enmity there; surely the Miller didn't fear competition in her direction? What a ludicrous thought! Liz purposely threaded her way in the opposite direction to Adam and came face to face with a smiling Judy.

  'Judy! How nice. Where's Simon?'

  'Over there, talking to a luscious piece of goods. But I'm being very nicely looked after by Martin.'

  Liz peered through the throng. 'That's Louise, our leading lady. Come along, I'll introduce you. Martin, I'm dying for a drink.'

  'You see? A glorified waiter, that's me,' protested Martin, scowling most horribly.

  'I can see you frighten the life out of her,' laughed Judy, following her friend through the crowd.

  During the rest of the evening Liz took Judy round with her, introducing her to as many people as she could. 'I want you to meet everyone,' she said, 'and then, when I'm talking about the theatre, you'll know who I mean.'

  Just before midnight, Simon strolled over.

  'Have you a lift, Liz?'

  'Yes,' replied Martin. 'She has.'

  'Liz, do you realise that Adam Carlyon is the only person I've heard call you Elizabeth?'

  'Is he? Surely not,' said Liz.

  'He is, you know, and don't tell me you haven't noticed because I won't believe you. I wonder whether there's any significance in the fact?' speculated Judy, rubbing cream vigorously on to her face.

  'Here we go again! You and your psychology. Everything's got a hidden meaning for you. I was probably introduced to him as Elizabeth and it's just stuck. Oh, by the way, I asked him if you can come to the Tuesday dress rehearsal and he said yes. It is tomorrow you begin night duty, isn't it?'

  'Yes. The mere thought makes me want to yawn,' said Judy, immediately doing so. 'Don't wake me in the morning and I'll try to sleep as long as I can.' She turned to Liz, who was sitting crosslegged on her bed. 'Do you realise that we might not meet again until Tuesday? We'll have to write notes to each other to keep in touch. What time should I get to the theatre?'

  'Curtain-up is at two-thirty.'

  'I'm looking forward to it. Martin made me howl tonight when he described himself walking in those tall boots. He is fun, isn't he?'

  'Yes,' agreed Liz absently.

  'Apropos of nothing, you'll not convince me,' said Judy, 'that a man as intelligent as Adam Carlyon could be taken in by someone like Tracey Miller.' She stared solemnly at herself in the mirror. 'Granted she's good company—those anecdotes of hers were most amusing, and she's very attractive—those gorgeous high cheekbones! But,' she waved a tissue at Liz before applying it to her shiny face, 'I'm positive he's got her measure. He's in full control. She might think she's dangling him, but I have strong doubts.'

  'After tonight, I'm inclined to agree with you,' said Liz, her voice thoughtful.

  'Did you see her face?' demanded Judy. 'She looked like the cat who'd stolen the cream, it was positively indecent. And who was he, anyway? The chappie she finally went off with?'

  'A business friend of John's connected with the film industry,' replied a deadpan Liz, dutifully echoing her sister.

  'Come on—there's more to it than that,' said Judy persuasively.

  Liz collapsed on to the bed with laughter. 'Oh, my sister is incorrigible! Helen thought Adam Carlyon ought to have some competition and knowing Tracey's ambition, planted that poor bod as a decoy!' She sat up. 'I don't know who looked the most satisfied—Helen or Tracey.'

  'Or Adam Carlyon.'

  'Yes,' agreed Liz, slightly puzzled, 'he did look…'

  'Amused,' said Judy decidedly.

  'But did you see,' continued Liz, getting off the bed and going to the door, 'who he escorted home?'

  'Well,' said Judy reasonably, 'if he's got to marry someone, better it be Louise.'

  'Yes,' said Liz.

  CHAPTER 4

  Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise.

  Proverbs 17.27.28.

  Tuesday, the twenty-fourth of September, found the theatre in the usual panic of the day before opening night. As John had predicted, by the twentieth the workmen had moved put and they had the place to themselves at last. The booking office was inundated with calls and as Liz said to Polly, it was gratifying to know that, after all the hard work, they would have good houses to play to.

  'Of course,' she added, 'the novelty of the Civic being a new theatre will wear off in time, but here's hoping we'll have an established following by then.'

  'How did things go upstairs yesterday?' asked Polly.

  'Not bad, considering they had to cope with costumes, and of course the big boss inspires everyone to do their best for him. It's amazing,' Liz said slowly, 'he's utterly ruthless sometimes; he bullies, cajoles, flatters, determined to get what he wants in whatever way he thinks necessary, and he usually does.' She laughed ruefully. 'And not just from the actors. You remember, Polly, where Petruchio and Katharina are returning to her father's house and they have the argument over the sun and moon? Well, I reckon if Carlyon asked young Jane to get him a real sun and moon, she'd say, yes, Adam, right away, Adam!' Liz mimicked Jane's reverential voice.

  Polly laughed and said slyly: 'Are you ready to join the fan club now, Lizzie?'

  'By no means. I accept his genius but refuse to kowtow to his…' Liz hesitated, seeking the word.

  'Sex-appeal?' suggested Polly, innocently.

  'Huh!' said Liz, stalking out of the office and making her way to the wardrobe room. 'Tea's up, girls.' Her smile faded as she surveyed the definite air of grim, feverish activity. 'Goodness, what's the matter with you all?'

  Val stabbed at the costume she was working on as if she had a knife in her hand rather than a needle.

  'Nothing that can't be put right with a cup of char, Liz.'

  She broke the thread crossly. 'I just wish sometimes that I was in an ordinary job, nine-to-five, no responsibility or worries, and then maybe I could sleep nights.'

  'You'd hate it!' said Liz with a grin. 'Poor old Val, are things getting you down? I know it's a big headache doing a show like this, but you're coping, aren't you?'

  'Oh, we'll be ready in time, don't worry, even if I have to camp here until curtain up!' She pulled a face. 'I'm always like this near opening, take no notice… and at least it's good to work for a director who knows what he wants and sticks to it.'

  'I like this one,' said Liz, picking up a deep turquoise brocade and holding it against her.

  'That is our dear Miss Miller's costume for the last act.'

  'It's very pretty. She must be pleased with it,' and Liz replaced the dress on the rail and sorted through the rest.

  'Hum,' snorted Val, which set the other girls laughing.

  'Isn't she?' asked Liz, pulling out a deep purple jacket, slashed with gold.

  'I think she's satisfied with it now. I just wish she wouldn't go whining to Carlyon when she's
got a complaint. Not that he stood any nonsense from her, and not that she had grounds for complaint either, just being awkward.' Val picked up a plumed hat she was working on and said: 'Put this on, Liz, I want to see if it needs another feather. Not that she's the only one. How can you tell a chap when he's fussing about his tights that he just hasn't got the right shaped legs?'

  'Well, let's face it, dearie,' said Liz, posturing in front of the mirror, 'not many men have!' Amidst giggles, Liz con: 'Anyway, Carlyon told John Harvey that he was specially delighted with all the costumes—so you've nothing to worry about.'

  'Did he really?' asked Val, looking pleased, and Liz left them looking slightly more cheerful than when she had arrived, and went in search of Scotty, who, in her opinion, had not improved much in health over the past few days. Work on the set had stopped for a break and sipping the mug of hot tea handed to her, Liz sat down beside Paul Scott, looking at him closely.

  'How're you feeling today, Scotty?'

  'Not so bad, Liz. Hey, Andy,' he shouted suddenly, 'you hold on to that hammer while you're climbing up there. We don't want you dropping it and giving someone a hole in the head!'

  'You don't look very well,' persisted Liz. 'Why don't you pack it in and go home?'

  'There's too much to do, I can't possibly leave,' he replied impatiently.

  'The boys and I can manage now that most of the hard work's been done,' said Liz gently. 'Surely it's better to have today off than be away tomorrow?'

  'I'll have all this evening and most of tomorrow to rest up if necessary, but thanks all the same, Lizzie.'

  Jane pulled a face as Liz joined her at the props table. Together they checked the props with the list, placing the articles in order of requirement.

  'Can't you get him to go home?' Jane whispered.

  'No, but he's a grown man and presumably knows what he's doing. Is this bowl of fruit down for act two or three?'

  'Act two. What do you think's wrong with him?'

  'The 'flu probably. Have you looked for that gilt chair yet?'

  'Crikey, I forgot!'

  'Never mind, we're starting again, I'll have a look myself later.'

  When the run-through finished, Liz reminded everyone that the photo-call was at two and curtain-up at two-thirty and made her way to the foyer, where she was to meet a party of schoolboys, it being her turn to take them round the building. They were already assembled and Liz saw with misgivings that there was only one teacher with them.

  'I'm terribly sorry,' he said apologetically, 'but my colleague's been taken ill and I couldn't get a replacement in time.'

  'Never mind,' said Liz cheerfully, 'I'll lead and you can take the rear, and watch out for stragglers. I'm sure we'll manage perfectly.' This was said with an assurance she didn't feel, as looking around the faces of the twelve to thirteen-year-olds, they all looked much too good to be true.

  By the time Liz had taken them over the theatre, answered their questions and finally ushered them out, she was more than ready for some nourishment and the Dover Castle beckoned invitingly, but she remembered the chair they needed for the performance that afternoon and hurried to the store.

  She gazed in dismay at the amount of furniture piled on top of each other, and not being able to catch sight of the chair immediately, she began to forage about, moving various pieces. She was perched, rather precariously, on the top of a table which itself was on the top of a larger one, when she heard footsteps coming down the corridor.

  'Andy? Steve?' she called out,' come and give me a hand.'

  Whispers, which developed quickly into giggles, were the only response to her appeal and then the door was banged shut, to be followed by the sound of footsteps running away. Startled, Liz moved her weight, overbalanced and crashed through the stacked furniture. This was painful, to say the least, and it was with little pleasure that she found the elusive chair entangled round her right foot. She extracted herself with difficulty and managed to carry it back to the door without further mishap.

  Painfully Liz rubbed her bruised arms and legs and then tried the handle, not very hopefully. It was definitely locked. She looked at her watch. Ten minutes to one. It was unlikely that anyone would be about until two o'clock, but there was no harm in trying to attract attention, just in case someone was near. She hammered on the door and shouted. Listening for a moment, she realised that there was no response. Drat those boys, she said, giving the door a final thump. Now then, Liz, what to do? Make yourself comfortable on one of the many available chairs or…? Her gaze wandered round the store consideringly and alighted on the window.

  Eureka! Once more scrambling over the furniture, Liz reached the window, which opened easily giving a view of the theatre car park. She leant out. Not a soul in sight, she grumbled. Oh, well, I'll just have to climb out. The store was on the ground floor and surely she ought to be able to jump down the few feet…? Immediately below were the steps leading down to the boiler house in the basement! Biting her lip, Liz regarded the handrail fixed to the wall speculatively. Lizzie, before you think about it too much, put your long legs to good use, she ordered, easing herself backwards out of the window. It was rather a tight squeeze. Her skirt hooked on to the window catch and she wasted precious energy releasing it. She was in that no-man's-land of deciding whether to go on or climb back in, when she heard a shout and the sound of running feet.

  Liz gave a sigh of relief. Someone was coming to help. But her relief was shortlived. With sinking heart, she heard the angry voice of Adam Carlyon below.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing, you crazy woman!'

  What a stupid question! Her temper flared. 'What the hell do you think I'm doing?' she shouted. 'I'm climbing out of this damn window!' And then, because she really did need his help, she added more calmly: 'Someone's locked me in.'

  'Well, kindly climb back in again and I'll go and let you out.'

  Unfortunately, though the spirit was willing the flesh was weak, and as much as Liz would have liked to, this order she found impossible to obey.

  'I can't,' she gasped, as her legs began to swing. There was a muttered exclamation and hands gripped her ankles. 'I can't hold on any more—my fingers are slipping! Adam!' she wailed. The hands broke from her ankles, moved to her knees and then waist, but the suddenness of her fall and the unevenness of his footing threw Adam off balance. Together they rolled in a tangle of arms and legs, down the basement steps, landing in an ignominious heap at the bottom.

  Liz lay for a few moments, the breath knocked out of her body, her head ringing with pain.

  'You really are the most infuriating female! Are you prone to accidents or is it just when I come along?' The words were ground out with such inner ferocity that she was stung to reply:

  'I was doing perfectly all right…'

  'Rubbish! How dare you do such a damn fool stunt?' he demanded, extricating himself from one of the overturned dustbins on which they had finally landed and forcing her to her feet. 'You could easily have broken your neck,' he added angrily.

  'I admit that perhaps the window is slightly higher than I'd realised,' said Liz with dignity, 'but I tell you I would have been perfectly all right. You broke my concentration, that's all, and…'

  'Ah! I wondered when we would find that it was all my fault!'

  'I didn't say it was your fault, I just said…'

  'I know what you said,' he repeated grimly. 'I've never met anyone to argue as much as you do. Do you do it with everyone, or is it just me? On second thoughts don't answer that. Stand still and let me look at you. Mm… that cut needs attention, but I don't think stitches.' He handed her a crisply folded handkerchief. 'Here, hold this to it. Any idea where the first aid box is?' he demanded, as he forced her up the steps and into the theatre.

  'There's one in Polly's office,' answered Liz, following helplessly.

  'Sit down,' he ordered, and limped over to the cabinet.

  'Oh, Adam! Are you hurt too?' asked Liz, aghast.

  'My
dear girl, I'm not a god, you know.' He came over to her, smiling grimly. 'I do have flesh and blood that gets damaged when I come into contact with stone steps, innumerable dustbins, not to mention a crazy female!' He paused. 'Don't look like that, Elizabeth. I'm all right. No doubt I'll be black and blue tomorrow, but I'll put it all down to experience.' His hands were gentle as he wiped the cut clean. 'You might,' he continued,' warn me if you feel like another of your little escapades coming on and I'll leave town for a few days. Now… let's have another look.' He frowned, gazing critically at her forehead. 'No, it won't need stitching,' and a plaster was placed with firm hands over the cut. 'You'll have a bruise as well, I've no doubt. I'm just going into the other office to make a call while you bathe the rest of you that needs it. I won't be long, so get a move on.'

  Really and truly, the way that man gives orders, thought Liz, as she gazed in some dismay at her ruined tights. She was just dabbing her legs dry when Adam returned, carrying a tray with sandwiches, coffee and a beer.

  'I telephoned for this, I knew someone would be over at the Castle. If we're to get through this afternoon, we need stoking up. Here's two tablets for the headache I know you have, and I didn't order anything stronger than coffee, you don't much care for it, do you?'

  Liz felt like contradicting him just for the sake of it, but the coffee looked so inviting that she bit back the words. Adam looked amused, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Ignoring his half-smile, she said:

  'I've probably messed up your lunch hour… I'm sorry.' She gave a small shrug.

  'The only thing you've messed up, Elizabeth, is my suit. Now then, don't you think it's about time you told me what's been going on?'

  Liz explained about the door banging shut but left out her suspicions as to the culprits, implying that probably someone had thought the room empty. This caused a quick glance, but he made no comment.

  'I didn't want to spend an hour in there if I could help it,' she said defensively, 'so I tried to make good my escape out of… the window.'