Nicola swallowed and was dumb with astonishment For how could anyone, in any circumstances whatever, confuse Julian and Oscar Warrender?
‘Shall we go?’ suggested Dr. Denby, who had a nice instinct for the moment when one should change conversational course. So they went.
When they arrived at the Gloria the big grill-room was already more than two-thirds full. But Dr. Denby had reserved a table in one of the wide window bays.
‘You sit where you can have the view across the Park, Nicola dear,’ said Mrs. Denby generously. ‘I’m going to sit and face the room and be a happy provincial, frankly celebrity-spotting. — Oh, I know that face! I can’t think of the name, but I know the face perfectly. I’ll get it in a minute — ’
Within five minutes she had the pleasure of identifying two television personalities and one famous writer. But then her husband recalled her to the more serious business of choosing the meal, and it was some while before she could resume her pleasant occupation.
‘I think that’s the pretty girl who was with that conductor in the photograph,’ she said suddenly. ‘Don’t turn for a moment. She’s looking this way. You said she was Michele Somebody. Has she got red hair?’
‘Yes, she has.’ And, in spite of her mother’s warning, Nicola turned and looked across the room, to acknowledge Michele’s not very friendly stare with a cool little smile and nod.
At the same time her mother exclaimed, ‘Oh, here comes the conductor himself. Why, he’s even better-looking than in the photograph. He’s looking round. I suppose for his red-haired friend. — No! He’s nodded to her but isn’t joining her. He’s coming this way. — Why, how funny! I believe he’s coming straight for this table.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
As Julian came level with their table, Nicola turned and smiled up at him with a sort of nervous eagerness she could not entirely contain. But before she could even open her lips to ask about the morning’s rehearsal he said almost curtly,
‘I missed you at the dress rehearsal. Were you there?’
‘No. I’m having some days off because my mother and father are in London. Would you like to meet them?’
Only then did he seem to become fully aware of anyone else at the table. But he accepted the introduction with a gravely courteous smile before which Mrs. Denby at any rate blossomed.
‘How did it go this morning?’ Nicola got her inquiry in then.
‘Very well. It’s a fine, well-integrated cast, and everyone is full of enthusiasm. Torelli, of course, is terrific.’
‘Nicola says you are a marvellous conductor too,’ observed Mrs. Denby with such naive candour that Julian’s glance lingered on her kindly for a moment before he said,
‘Nicola is too kind. I hope you will be there on Friday to judge for yourselves?’
‘Oh, yes, indeed we shall,’ Mrs. Denby assured him. ‘My husband is Madame Torelli’s brother-in-law, you know. We shall be having quite a family reunion, as it happens. Peter Denby — Madame Torelli’s husband — will be back in London by then — ’
‘He is back already,’ Julian told her. ‘He arrived just after the dress rehearsal this morning.’
‘Did he?’ cried Nicola. ‘Lisette is the limit! She never told me when I phoned. Oh, how happy Gina must be.’
‘Yes, I think she is.’ The conductor smiled slightly again. Then, as there was a stir at the entrance to the restaurant, he glanced across and said, ‘This seems to be a popular meeting place tonight. Here are Madame Torelli and her husband.’
Nicola turned round fully while her parents craned their necks to see better. As they did so, Torelli caught sight of them, waved with something between cordiality and regality, and immediately made for their table, followed by a tall, thin, heavily tanned man whom Nicola recognized as her Uncle Peter.
There was a tremendous flurry of greetings and introductions, during which Julian prepared to withdraw. But Torelli, looking more warmly radiant than Nicola could ever remember seeing her before, put a detaining hand on his arm.
‘No, Julian dear, stay and join the family party. You are one of us after this morning’s performance. I refuse to let you go and dine alone. Now, my dears — ‘ with one comprehensive glance she gathered the slightly dazzled Mrs. Denby and the somewhat amused Doctor Denby into her general scheme of rearrangement — ‘we must have a table added here. Peter and you will have so much to say to each other!’
Recalling the extreme taciturnity of her uncle in earlier days, Nicola rather doubted if they would. But in any case she recognized the remark for what it was, a mere figure of speech. What Torelli meant was that she had a lot to say to everyone within what she now apparently quite willingly regarded as her family circle.
With a single gesture and no more than a few words from her uncle, Nicola was amused to see the head waiter and an assistant come running to do Torelli’s bidding. The table was extended, the seating rearranged, and, before she knew what was happening, she found herself sitting between Julian and her uncle.
Faintly overwhelmed by Julian’s nearness, she turned first to her uncle, who said in his deep, abrupt but agreeable voice, ‘Gina tells me you have been a great help to her.’
‘I’m so glad if she thinks so! It’s all been a marvellous experience for me. I really love her,’ Nicola said frankly.
‘So do I,’ was the unexpected reply. ‘Impossible, of course, but quite irresistible.’
And on this her uncle turned his attention to the menu, leaving Nicola to smother a laugh and turn to look at Julian who, with his head slightly inclined towards Torelli, was listening to what she had to say with an unmistakably indulgent smile.
‘Do you agree with me?’ Nicola heard her ask challengingly.
‘Of course.’
‘What do you mean — “of course”? I don’t like people to agree with me just because they won’t stand up to me and query my judgments,’ declared Torelli quite incorrectly.
‘My dear Madame! I merely meant that when you speak about singing there is no second opinion,’ Julian replied. ‘On that subject I am satisfied to have you pronounce. If I disagreed with you I should know it was I who was wrong.’
The singer looked at him and laughed, her wonderful dark eyes sparkling suddenly with real humour.
‘You’re learning fast,’ she observed. ‘You were resistant and more than a trifle arrogant at first. Now you know all the tactful phrases, don’t you?’
‘Those were not tactful phrases,’ he assured her gravely. ‘I was speaking from my heart.’
‘I believe you were.’ The laughing eyes were almost sombre again. ‘You’re a good boy, as I’ve said before. I told Nicola — she should marry you and keep you in the family.’
‘And what,’ asked Julian, ignoring the gasp from the other side of him, ‘did Nicola have to say to that?’
‘Oh, she became melodramatic about that unfortunate business in Canada. — Yes, you did, dear!’ Torelli leant across Julian to speak to her niece, now that she saw she was listening. ‘Very silly of you. There’s a time to remember and a time to forget. Peter, are we starting with oysters, or aren’t they in season? I always forget and an oyster is more temperamental than any prima donna, when you come to think of it. Chooses its own time — or poisons you.’
It was obvious that she was in excellent spirits and under the impression that she was making the conversation scintillate round the table. But neither Nicola nor Julian appeared to have much to scintillate about for the next few minutes. And not until she saw her mother looking at her questioningly did Nicola rouse herself to address Julian in what she believed to be a composed undertone.
‘Gina talks a great deal of nonsense when she’s in one of her outrageous moods. I’ve learned not to take any of it seriously. I hope you have too.’
‘Not entirely,’ was the cool reply. ‘On the contrary, I think she has a considerable flair for imparting an air of amusing nonsense to something she seriously believes.’
If Nicola was
minded to argue that point she had no chance, for her mother leaned forward and spoke across the table.
‘Nicola dear, your Uncle Peter says that your aunt would specially like to have you with her on the day of the performance — on the Friday. So of course your father and I will willingly manage without you. There are one or two things we wanted to do on our own anyway.’
‘Do you really want me on Friday, Gina?’ Nicola spoke eagerly to Torelli, hoping she was not irritated by the remarkable number of family relationships her mother had contrived to mention in comparatively few words.
‘Of course, dear. I always want you,’ said Torelli a trifle emotionally and not quite accurately.
‘Then certainly I’ll be there.’ Nicola was touched and flattered. ‘I thought perhaps that you and Uncle Peter — ’
‘Dear child, he will be around somewhere. But naturally he has his own affairs to attend to,’ explained Torelli, giving such a superb impersonation of a submissive wife that everyone stopped talking and looked at her in admiration.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said her husband. ‘You know I’ll be wherever you want me.’ And Torelli looked as pleased as any girl being bullied and petted by her first sweetheart.
Afterwards, Nicola’s mother declared it was the most extraordinary and interesting evening she had ever spent.
‘Really, your aunt is a most unusual person,’ she said with monumental understatement. ‘Not exactly lovable, and definitely eccentric of course, but I’m sure she means well.’
‘Very often she doesn’t mean well at all,’ Nicola could not help saying. But when she saw how shocked her mother looked, she tried to take that back. ‘That’s to say — like all artists and people who live on their nerves, she’s rather self-centred and unpredictable.’
‘Well, I think we must give her that,’ replied Mrs. Denby tolerantly. ‘After all, it’s an unnatural sort of life. What I liked about that young conductor was that, even if he is as talented as you say, he was also very pleasant and normal. I noticed he went off eventually with that pretty red-haired girl.’
‘I noticed too,’ said her daughter without much expression. For indeed, when the dinner-party broke up and she and her parents had prepared to go on to a theatre, she had seen Julian cross the room and join Michele.
‘I was glad to see that,’ went on Mrs. Denby musingly. ‘I felt sorry for her, poor little thing, sitting there alone while we were all enjoying ourselves. Once or twice I nearly suggested she should join us. But Gina so obviously felt it was for her to make all arrangements that I decided it wouldn’t be a good idea somehow.’
‘It wouldn’t have been a good idea at all,’ Nicola assured her with some emphasis. And there the matter rested.
On Friday morning, much though she loved her parents and enjoyed their society, Nicola was aware of rapidly rising spirits as she went once more to her aunt’s apartment. She had actually missed the unpredictable, slightly melodramatic atmosphere which was part of Torelli’s life. To be the buffer state between a prima donna and the world might have its bruising moments, but boring moments — never.
There was a certain amount of correspondence and some social telephone calls to attend to, and she was busy on these when her uncle came in, looking so matter-of-fact and normal that Nicola instantly knew what Torelli had meant when she said he was a wonderful person to have about on the day of a performance.
He greeted her briefly and went over to the files where accounts were kept.
‘I suppose,’ Nicola said presently with a smile, ‘you are so used to first nights that they hardly disturb you at all?’
‘On the contrary, I’m always intensely nervous on Gina’s behalf,’ he replied, flicking over some papers and jotting down a few figures.
‘Nervous, Uncle? I don’t believe it.’
‘True, nevertheless. I don’t show it, of course. Nor do you, I notice.’
‘I try not to,’ Nicola said. ‘I feel it’s her prerogative to have the jitters and throw the odd tantrum.’
‘Quite right. Our business is to be the proverbial cool hand on the fevered brow. You can’t blame a fever patient for being excited. Equally you can’t blame a public performer for being nervous and difficult on the day of a performance. Pity she wants to see this Laraut girl.’
‘Does she want to see Michele? Today?’
‘This morning. Much better not to worry either the girl or herself just before a first night. But there’s no arguing with Gina, as you know.’
‘When is she coming?’ Nicola was faintly disturbed, as she always was by the thought of Michele.
‘In about half an hour. Something quite unimportant, I think. But to hear Gina one would suppose the performance hung on it. As it’s this girl I shan’t interfere. If it had been someone else, I might have.’
‘Don’t you like her?’ Nicola asked curiously.
‘No.’
‘Why not, Uncle?’
‘That,’ said her uncle, ‘is a long story.’ And he closed the file and went away.
For several minutes after he had gone Nicola sat at her desk unable to concentrate on her work again. The thought and image of Michele had the power to make everything else seem trivial, to a degree that was strange, considering she was essentially a lightweight person.
It was Michele who had been the one disturbing element to threaten the precious, nostalgic memories of Brian, and when that was explained away she stood between Nicola and something even more precious.
Not that anything could be more precious than the memories of Brian, she hastened to tell herself guiltily. But because she could not bear to pursue that line of thought she went on then determinedly with her work. She was not so utterly absorbed, however, that she was not fully aware of Michele’s arrival and of the sound of Lisette showing her into the music-room.
The reason for Torelli’s summons was evidently purely a professional one, for Nicola was not bidden to join them and presently she heard the two voices mingling in some passage from the scene they shared. The sounds — ravishingly beautiful sounds, for the voices blended particularly well — continued for a short while, after which there was obviously discussion only, for there was no more singing.
Then Nicola heard the door open once more and her aunt’s clear voice say, ‘I am sure you will find it much better that way. I was a little worried about you at the dress rehearsal. Gan you find your way out? — Good. Till this evening, then.’ And the music-room door closed again.
Nicola hastily resumed her typing, for it suddenly seemed urgently necessary that she should assert her complete lack of interest in what had been happening. Then, without so much as a tap, the door opened and Michele’s voice said coolly, ‘May I come in for a minute?’
‘Of course.’ Nicola turned from her desk and tried to produce a welcoming smile. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
‘No. What I’ve come to say can be said just as well standing.’ No question now but that Michele was in an unfriendly mood. ‘It’s about last night.’
‘Last night?’ Nicola was genuinely mystified.
‘Yes, last night — and your crude attempt to appropriate Julian and spoil my evening. Calling him over like that and foisting your parents on him! I wonder you weren’t ashamed. And letting that — letting Torelli make a family party of it. If you’d had any — ’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ Nicola’s tone was like ice, and Torelli herself could not have been more dignified. ‘I did not call Julian over to our table. He came of his own accord — Yes, he did!’ she exclaimed in sudden fury as the other girl laughed. ‘Do you suppose I would have chosen to introduce him to my parents after what he did to Brian? Once he had spoken to me, what else could I do but introduce them since they were sitting there?’
‘It didn’t look like a case of social compulsion to me.’
It had not been, of course. At the time she had been almost happy to present him to her parents, and the recollection of that stung her now.
‘In any case, it isn’t the slightest business of yours,’ she said curtly. ‘I’ll speak to whom I please and make what introductions I like. If Julian wished to meet my parents — ’
‘But he didn’t,’ interrupted Michele coolly. ‘He told me later — when at last we were able to get together — that it was all rather embarrassing for him but that — ’
‘He was not embarrassed!’ Nicola was white with fury and with the sensation of not knowing what had hit her.
‘He told me so. He should know.’ The other girl laughed and shrugged, suddenly completely in command of the situation. ‘It was bad enough having you run after him to his dressing-room, paying him girlish compliments and making up to him the way you did. He didn’t mind that too much, of course, because all artists like a bit of flattery. It was just something to laugh about over lunch afterwards. But to try to make a family friend of him — ’
‘Will you go, please?’ Nicola had risen to her feet, and for a wild moment she thought she was going to lay hands on this girl who suddenly looked so insolently and dangerously beautiful. ‘But before you go, understand one thing — nothing which happened last night was of my choosing. He came to the table of his own accord, and the introduction to my parents was the merest conventional piece of courtesy. If — ’
‘And what about the determined inclusion of my escort in your dinner-party?’
‘That was Madame Torelli’s arrangement. I had nothing whatever to do with that.’
‘It’s useful to have a relation who manages everything the way one wants,’ Michele laughed.
‘He could have refused if he — ’
‘He tried to. But you know as well as I do that she accepts no refusal to anything she wants. She liked the idea of leaving me on my own while you — ’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! If Julian had wanted you included he had only to say so.’
‘And court a flat refusal? That would have been a nice humiliating experience for us both, I must say!’
The Curtain Rises (Warrender Saga Book 4) Page 14