'Er—no,' Liz answered guardedly.
'From what Betty said, it seems she has guilt feelings towards you regarding that night.'
'I'm sure you're wrong,' protested Liz feebly, her colour rising.
'I don't think so,' Adam replied, giving her a level look. 'She's afraid you overheard something and may have been… upset.'
'No,' said Liz. They stared at each other for a long moment and then, to Liz's relief, the door at the far end of the auditorium opened and someone shouted, 'Telephone for you, Adam,' and after a moment of indecision he gave a frowning nod and left her.
That night, Louise came into the wings just before curtain up.
'I thought you'd like to know,' she whispered with a smile, 'that Tracey has been offered that contract. I knew how worried you were. Of course, Tracey, being Tracey, went over the top, but…'
'She had every right to be cross,' broke in Liz, 'but she seemed to think I knew this Gould person was out in front, but I didn't.'
'And why should you?' asked Louise. 'Forget all about it. I think Tracey realises she made a fool of herself, but I don't suppose she'll apologise. Anyway, she leaves after the next play and Rachel is coming back.'
'Thank you for telling me,' Liz said shyly.
'Liz, my dear, you're such a conscientious thing, we knew how upset you were. Adam did too, of course. There's not much he misses,' Louise said shrewdly, 'and he's very fair, you know.'
Liz pulled a face. 'Then there must be something about me that rubs him up the wrong way! Are you staying on with us, Louise?'
'Yes,' she answered with satisfaction. 'Martin too, the rest are moving to pastures new and we'll be getting a fresh lot in.' She looked at her watch. 'I'd better go and make up. I like to give myself plenty of time,' and giving Liz a warm Smile, Louise went back to the dressing room.
Liz was not surprised to hear that Louise was renewing her contract What was the point of her going and leaving Adam behind?
Laura Browning's dinner party came and went. Liz heard all about it from Judy, who thoroughly enjoyed herself.
'Even if Carlyon wasn't so attractive himself, his Morgan would be enough to weigh the balance. Isn't it super?'
Liz, knowing that Simon had taken Judy over to Stretton, said in Surprise:
'Did Adam Carlyon bring you home, then?'
Her friend nodded mischievously. 'Yep. I managed to wangle a lift in it at last! Simon was conned into taking a cousin to the station. Where did you and Martin end up?'
'At a folk concert. It was good.'
'Your absence was duly noted. Helen wanted to know where you were.'
'Naturally,' said Liz dryly.
The following Sunday, Liz, with Andrew as her deputy, went with the cast of One Too Many to Birmingham where they played to good houses for the whole of the week, their place at the Queensbridge Civic being taken by the Hungarian Folk Dancers. It was a pleasant break, but Liz was glad to get back into routine once more, and she was kept busy searching for furniture and props for the next play, a murder story, set in the house of a collector of Eastern curios, which made the dressing of the stage more demanding. She consulted the scenic designer over the colour schemes and hunted the material shops for curtaining and chair coverings in the correct shades but in the most economical price range.
'This is what I enjoy doing,' she confessed to Judy. 'It's like playing house each time I dress a set.' She dumped her packets and parcels on to the table and warmed her hands by the fire. 'By the way, Judy, I called in at the swimming baths this afternoon and watched the two Granger boys swim.'
'The canal boys?' questioned Judy, looking up from the reclining position she was in, and Liz nodded.
'I had a message from their mother asking if I'd like to go. The boys specially wanted to show me that they can do a length now.' She paused and said slowly, 'Do you know what she told me? Adam Carlyon has insisted on paying for their lessons and he's promised them a trip to London when they get their first Survival badge.' Liz sat back and stared thoughtfully into the fire.
'He ought to have kids of his own,' commented Judy, rubbing her aching feet.
'Well,' said Liz, 'he probably will if the grapevine's right. At least Louise will understand the pressures involved being married to a director.'
'What do you think are the chances for someone unconnected with the theatre marrying into it? Of making it work, I mean,' asked Judy, adding with a grin: 'In case I decide to make a dead set at Carlyon!'
'Heavens,' said Liz as she considered this. 'Oh, it completely depends on the people. It wouldn't be easy, theatre folk are so dedicated.' She wrinkled her nose. 'I suppose I really mean committed. They have odd hours and not tremendous pay, unless one gets into films, of course. Still, having said all that, I do know quite a few successful marriages, although in each case the non-theatrical partner is a very level-headed person.'
'Mmm… I shall have to think it over carefully,' said Judy airily. 'Oh, by the way, Helen rang, she wants to know if you'll baby-sit next Sunday.'
Liz decided to stay the night, as Helen and John were visiting friends out of town and would be back late. She bathed Emma and ended up nearly as wet, the delights of smacking the surface of the bathwater with her open palm having just been discovered and put into practice. Snug and warm in her sleeping bag, Emma sat on Liz's knee, smelling deliciously of that special fragrance that one only finds with babies newly bathed. Liz read to her out of the large nursery rhyme book and Emma's plump fingers pointed to the bright pictures. It felt good to hold her and now and then kiss her red, chubby cheek. She was just rescuing her numerous strings of beads from Emma's fist when the door bell rang. Liz hesitated, wondering whether to put Emma down in the playpen or take her with her. Deciding on the latter, she went into the hall and the light from the porch showed clearly who it was through the patterned glass. Liz opened the door.
'Come in quickly, please, Adam. I've just bathed Emma and don't want her to catch a chill.'
Adam looked taken aback at seeing Liz, but followed her through into the lounge. Emma lay on her shoulder, head turned away, thumb in mouth, very nearly asleep.
'I was just about to take her up, she's ready, as you can see. Do you mind if I leave you a moment?'
He touched the hanging dimpled hand with his finger and Emma gripped it firmly. Even half asleep, Emma showed good sense.
'Goodnight, beautiful.' The hand was raised to his lips and then gently disengaged.
When Liz returned Adam was signing some papers which had been left on John's bureau. He looked tired and rather drawn. Liz knelt and began to clear away the bricks and toys into Emma's playbox and by the time she had finished, he was putting the papers into an envelope.
'Sorry to interrupt your evening, but something urgent cropped up and John needed my signature.' He put the envelope in his pocket. 'I must remember to pop this in the post on my way home.'
'May I get you something to drink? Please,' Liz added quickly, seeing the denial on his lips. 'Helen would never forgive me if you went without having something.'
He hesitated and, rather unwillingly, capitulated.
'Thank you,' he said formally, 'coffee would be very welcome. I could do with something to wake me up. This week's felt like a month.' And this month has felt like a year, Liz thought, as she went into the kitchen. When she returned, Adam was sprawled fast asleep in the armchair. Liz carefully switched off the main light and turned on the small table lamp and quietly settling herself in the armchair opposite, drank her coffee. She browsed through a book, glancing every now and again at the sleeping figure. She had difficulty in concentrating, not the book's fault, and when she found her eyes straying more and more to the Sleeping man, she gave up the pretence of reading altogether.
In repose, Adam looked more approachable somehow. Which gave Liz encouragement, for here was the perfect opportunity to make her peace… if he would let her. She at last acknowledged that it had now become important for her to do so. Ever sinc
e that awful night, Liz had been indulging in a long hard look at herself and had come to the reluctant but inevitable conclusion that so far as Adam Carlyon was concerned, she had been more than a little prejudiced. With some curiosity she reached for the dictionary and turned up the word. Prejudice… opinion or emotional attitude usually hostile, reached on inadequate evidence. Yes, that just about summed matters up, she thought, replacing the volume. And more than that. It seemed that she had joined his fan club without even knowing it, and she had to admit that she missed his quick, warm smile when things went well; even the mocking antagonism of their reacquaintance would be a welcome change from the cool, impersonal attitude of the past few weeks. The more Liz got to know him, as an individual rather than by repute, the more she found herself responding, despite herself. He was still at times complicated to fathom and certainly unpredictable, but it had been unfair and immature to admire the man's strength of mind and yet resent the assertive dominance that went with it.
Adam changed position and brought her out of her daydreaming. He must have been tired, Liz thought, or else he would have woken by now, the armchair not being the best of resting places for a man of his height. Another ten minutes and she watched him stir. His eyelids flickered, opened and grey eyes met hers. He smiled and murmured: 'Elizabeth?' and then they closed again. Liz held her breath and then he was staring blankly at her once more, the look changing rapidly to one of recognition and finally consternation. Liz smiled.
'Would you like your coffee now, Adam?'
He sat up stiffly and frowned, massaging one of his legs.
'Good lord, it's never that time? I'm terribly sorry. Whatever must you think of me, falling asleep like that?'
Liz rose and collected the cups. 'I thought nothing more than that you must be very tired. I hope I did right by letting you sleep on? I'll get you that coffee.' She paused at the door and said lightly: 'What would you say if I told you that you snore like a pig, Adam?'
He grinned. 'I'd say you were a liar, Elizabeth.'
She laughed and went out, thinking how sure he was on that fact and betting she wasn't the only female able to verify it, and not in such innocent circumstances either. When she returned, he was looking at the group of family photographs hung in the wall recess. He turned.
'You're lucky to be one of a large family,' he commented, regret tinging his voice.
'I have my doubts sometimes, and really we're not very large, we just sound it!'
'You are compared to some.'
Liz placed the tray she had prepared on to a low table, saying:
'I have the feeling that you've forgotten to eat recently. I've thrown an omelette together and it ought to be eaten at once.' She paused as he sat back in the chair. 'Not that I need to tell you that, with your French connections.'
He smiled and asked: 'Aren't you having one?'
'No. I'll settle for just coffee. I'll go and check on Emma while you eat.' When she returned they talked in a desultory manner until Adam rose and reached for his coat. The decision Liz had made earlier could not be put off any longer and she said nervously:
'You have to go, Adam?'
'Yes, I must be in London early tomorrow. Thank you for the meal, Elizabeth.' The cool voice of the past few weeks had come back and with an acuteness that surprised her, Liz missed the warmer one he had been using during the last quarter of an hour.
'Before you go, Adam… may I say something?'
He paused at the door and waited. Liz could not look at him and turned away, finding herself looking at the group of photographs and in particular at the one of a laughing, pigtailed Elizabeth, sitting on a swing, in the days when life was uncomplicated and straightforward.
'Do you… do you think you could manage to forget that awful night? I should never have spoken and acted the way I did.' She licked her lips nervously. 'I'm sorry, will you forgive me? I've missed your friendship these past few weeks, may I have it back, please?' this last ending on a whisper. The silence was so long that for one terrible moment Liz thought he wasn't going to accept her apology. The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece seemed abnormally loud.
'Friendship?' he said at last. 'Mmm… I wonder if we've ever had that, Elizabeth?'
She looked at him quickly and found him frowning, lips pursed. He smiled wryly back at her and her heart gave a queer lurch.
'I rather fear that I didn't come out of that "awful night" too well either. We'll try again, shall we? Mind, I don't think I could get used to an Elizabeth who acquiesced all the time, but no doubt I can arrange to stir you up a little, now and again.'
Aware of the matter-of-fact, easy manner in which the words were given, Liz walked with; him to the front door, hoping that the warmth in her face would be put down to the heat from the fire.
'Goodnight, Elizabeth.' He took her hand and his grasp was strong.
'Goodnight, Adam.'
It had been necessary to regain Adam Carlyon's regard, and although it was apparent from his tone that the importance of this was on her side only, Liz felt suddenly as if a weight had been taken from her shoulders. The low spirits into which she had lately been cast lifted, as if some vital essence had been injected back into her life.
CHAPTER 7
Somersault—sudden complete change of opinion
Weather-wise, December progressed coldly, as the Queens-bridge Civic Theatre blossomed fully as an arts centre. On Tuesdays and Fridays there were lunchtime programmes, which were anything from a string quartet, poetry readings, mime and dance to one-act plays or jazz sessions. The upper and lower foyers exhibited paintings, sculptures and pottery by local as well as established professional artists, and there was a nourishing membership, and a scheme was being launched to take plays round the schools; this particular project especially interested Liz.
Tracey Miller left and was mourned by no one, seemingly not even Adam Carlyon, who was squiring an obviously happy Louise to London most weekends. Noel Coward's Present Laughter was the play of the month and pantomime rehearsals were under way.
Liz was existing in a curious state of limbo. It was as if now, more than ever before, she only came really to life when she was down at the theatre, and that consisted of most of her waking hours. She hardly saw Judy and when she did they only spoke trivialities; their previous heart-to-hearts were a thing of the past. Liz regretted this, but there was nothing she could do about it. The time for confidences on either side would only happen when they were ready for it and until then they each respected the other's privacy. Regarding Adam Carlyon, there was no significantly dramatic change, but there was a difference in their relationship, and Liz was glad she had found the courage, and the sense, to speak the night of their truce.
Combining theatre shopping with some Christmas shopping, Liz bumped into Judy unexpectedly one morning and they went for a coffee. Judy eased off her shoes and rubbed her feet.
'Why, on my day off, I have to spend it on my feet, I'll never know,' she groaned.
'What are you doing for Christmas, Judy?'
'I don't know. Probably be working. What about you?'
'Well, I know I am, although not Christmas Day, of course.'
'I don't even know on what day it falls,' confessed Judy.
'Thursday. The Coward will finish on the Saturday before and we'll open with Humpty-Dumpty on Boxing Day evening. I must get organised with the family presents early or else I'll just not have a chance. Monday to Wednesday Christmas week will be pure hell at the theatre.'
'I don't like being the prophet of doom, Lizzie dear, but there's a 'flu germ circulating.' Judy grimaced. 'I knew I oughtn't to have taken my shoes off, I can't get them back on now!'
'Judy, if you do have Christmas Day off, Mother wants you to come to Stretton.'
'That is kind of her,' said Judy, obviously delighted with the idea. 'I'd love to come if I can.'
'Good.'
'How's life at the theatre these days?'
'Hectic,' replied Liz with a gri
n. 'I'm having my work cut out keeping Max Littleton out of Carlyon's way.'
'And who is Max Littleton?'
'Our harassed author. The panto script is an original and he keeps descending on us every now and again. The chappie who's written the music has been and gone, but not our Maxie-boy. Will you come and see it?'
'I wouldn't miss seeing Martin as Old King Cole for the world,' said Judy, grinning, 'although I must admit I'm not an ardent pantomime fan.'
'Oh, I am!' exclaimed Liz. 'I've always loved it, right from a child. And of course, working on one is always fun. We're usually kept very busy backstage with all the gimmicky props, but it's the atmosphere that gets me and the kids in the audience.'
'Lizzie, you're a sucker for sentiment!' her friend said with a grin. 'Well, it's no good, I must be off.'
'Me too,' echoed Liz. 'We're holding auditions for the ballet troupe this afternoon. I've got to organise thousands of hopeful little girls and end up, no doubt, comforting all the disappointed ones!'
Monday, the twenty-second of December, saw Humpty-Dumpty up on stage for the first time and because of the size of the show, it was even more chaotic than usual. Tuesday was slightly better. There was a photo-call for three o'clock, after which they began the second run-through, with orchestra, which injected some life into things. Adam then let the orchestra go, keeping back the pianist, and certain sections were rehearsed again, making another late night.
Before Liz left for home she went in search of Louise, who, as Little Boy Blue, had forgotten to leave her horn on the props table.
'Sorry, Liz,' yawned Louise when Liz explained her request. 'Oh, dear! I do hope we're let off tomorrow afternoon.'
'I'm sure we will be, if it's a good rehearsal in the morning. Are you travelling far over Christmas?' Liz asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
Louise's face lit up, all signs of tiredness gone as she began to smooth cream on to her face.
'Adam's taking me to London, bless him. It will only be a short visit but well worth it.' She hesitated, tissue in hand. 'Lizzie, I've wanted to tell you something for quite a time now. I don't know whether Adam has said anything to you, but…'
Dear Villain Page 16