'Hey, you girls,' Harry knocked on the door and popped his head round. 'Better get a move on. There's an inch of snow on the ground and the sky's still full of it.'
'Damn!' Wiping off the last of her make-up, Louise pulled a face. Switching off the mirror light and covering her dressing table with a cloth, she grabbed her coat. 'I'd better find Adam and see if he thinks this will change our plans. Cheerio, Liz, see you tomorrow.'
Liz watched her go, absently dusting the horn with her smock and wondering what Louise had been about to say, although in her heart of hearts she had guessed already.
Wednesday morning found the whole of the country blanketed in snow. Judy, waking Liz at eight, said cheerfully : 'Snow at Christmas is beautiful on cards but in reality not so good.' Although she had worked through the night, her face looked pink and glowing with the cold.
'You're home early,' said Liz in surprise.
'Yes, I had a lift.'
'That means the buses are still running,' stated Liz, leaping out of bed and hurriedly dressing. 'I must be at the theatre by nine.'
'They're running at the moment, but if this carries on it's anyone's guess.'
'I probably won't see you until tomorrow, Judy. Simon's fetching you, isn't he?'
'Yes, about twelve-thirty, he said. It is kind of your mother to have me, Liz, especially when I've got to leave again to get back on duty.'
'We're all pleased you can come,' Liz said quickly, giving Judy a hug.
'You do look nice, Liz.'
'Well, thank you! It's good to get a compliment now and again.'
'Go on! I bet Martin gives you them all the time,' teased Judy.
'Yes,' admitted Liz with a grin, 'but I can never believe his Irish blarney, can you?'
'He does have the gift of the gab,' her friend agreed, yawning and looking suddenly tired.
'You'd better get to bed, Judy, you look whacked. Glory! Look at the time, see you tomorrow,' and Liz rushed out.
To everyone's relief, the rehearsal went well. When the final line-up had been rehearsed, Adam came forward saying:
'Right, all on stage, please.' He waited, arms folded, leaning against the proscenium arch, while Liz called everyone back on stage. When they were assembled, still in their make-up and costumes, Adam said:
'Thank you for working so hard. It's paid off and we've got a good show here. You've got from now until curtain to recoup. Don't, I repeat don't, get stranded if you're travelling out of town.' He smiled his devastating smile. 'Off you go… and have a good Christmas.'
Shouts of 'Happy Christmas to you, Adam,' came from the motley crowd as they made their way off the stage.
Polly had been watching the pantomime and came up to Liz, saying how much she had enjoyed it, adding as they walked back to the office together:
'How's Judy these days?'
'She's all right,' replied Liz, 'although, Poll, I must admit she's rather subdued these days, but perhaps it's being back on nights.'
'I know what you mean, I saw her the other day and she seemed as if—well, as if the stuffing's been knocked out of her.'
'Maybe it's the time of the year,' suggested Liz. 'Oh, have the programmes arrived?' she asked, picking one up from the desk.
'Bother! That's just a sample, I've forgotten to send someone to fetch the first batch from the printers,' said Polly crossly.
'I'll go,' offered Liz.
'Would you, Lizzie?' beamed Polly. 'John's given us this afternoon off and I've such a lot to do at home. Are you sure?' she added anxiously.
'Quite sure,' said Liz firmly. 'I've got to stop on this afternoon anyway to finish some odd jobs. Harry's travelling, so it's easier for me to stay. Tell me where the printers are and I'll go now.'
It was not snowing when she returned, although the sky was low and grey. The theatre seemed very quiet; the girls in the box office were still on duty, but everywhere else was deserted.
Liz donned her working smock and tackled the jobs, leaving the biggest until last. This was Humpty's wall which had been altered and needed repainting. She happily splashed on the first coat and while she waited for it to dry, sat herself down at the piano. Only a mediocre pianist, nevertheless Liz enjoyed playing and for ten minutes she thumped out some old favourites, occasionally joining in with spirited singing accompaniment. She had just decided it was time to finish off the painting, and as a finale played a flourish of chords, when the sound of applause echoed across the rows of empty seats.
'Who… who is it?' Peering into the gloom, she was startled to see Adam Carlyon leisurely walking down the gangway towards her. 'Why, hello…' and to say she was disconcerted was putting it mildly.
'Sorry if I startled you, Elizabeth.'
'You did rather,' said Liz, laughing slightly. 'After all, I'd been giving a private concert only to find that an audience had sneaked in.'
'Short of blowing a trumpet I doubt whether I could have attracted your attention, even if I'd wanted to.' His brows raised. 'I'd no idea we had such talent in our midst.'
Liz grinned. 'You ought to hear the family once we get going!' Then closing the piano and accepting his hand, she climbed out of the orchestra pit and followed him on stage where he gazed round with a critical eye.
'I'm just about to finish the wall,' she said hastily. 'Those drapes look better, don't you think?'
He nodded. 'Remind me, Elizabeth, to ask Harry to get a higher rostrum for the throne. I think there is one available.'
Liz took out one of her innumerable lists from the smock pocket and made a note.
'Why are you here?' she asked, starting to paint. 'I thought you'd be on your way to London by now.'
'Mm…? Yes, well, the weather being what it is, we decided it would be best to postpone our trip until another time. Louise has gone to some friends, not so far away, by train. In the circumstances, it's turned out for the best.'
'It has?' Liz asked uncertainly. 'What a shame for you, though.' She paused. 'What will you do now? About Christmas Day, I mean.'
'I haven't thought that far yet, Elizabeth. I'm just going to telephone Littleton to see if he can re-write the script slightly.'
'Re-write the script?' she echoed in astonishment.
'Yes. Don't disappear, I want you.'
He walked briskly away and Liz carried on with her painting, slightly puzzled by the enigmatic look he had given her as he left. Ten minutes later he returned.
'Ah, you've finished it. Yes, that looks good,' and Liz, who thought so too, pulled off her smock and wiped her hands on the turps rag.
'Did you get through to Max?' she asked curiously.
'Yes.' Adam seated himself on the gold throne, saying mildly: 'Elizabeth, I'm afraid you've got to be the good fairy.'
Liz stared at him in amazement. 'Me?' Her voice went up in a squeak. 'Me, the good fairy?' She laughed and then sobered quickly. 'You're joking?' she asked tentatively.
He smiled sympathetically but said firmly: 'I'm afraid not. Moira's gone down with the dreaded bug and you're the only one free to take her place.'
'But she was here this morning!' Liz protested.
'Yes, but she was not well. It's been coming on for a few days, evidently, but she hoped to be able to shake it off. I realised her performance was off and that something was wrong and took her home. She's in bed with a temperature of a hundred and three.'
'B—but I'm just n—not the good fairy type!' stammered Liz, thinking of Moira, who was small, petite and trained as a dancer. 'Whoever's seen a good fairy as tall and lanky as me?' she declared in a voice heavy with foreboding.
'The good citizens of Queensbridge, I hope,' Adam replied laconically.
'For heaven's sake,' Liz exclaimed, aghast, 'surely there must be someone else?'
'I've gone through all the permutations, Elizabeth,' he said patiently, 'and your rendering a few moments ago came as a welcome bonus.'
'I couldn't fit it in with my other duties.' Liz was clutching at straws and they both knew it.
'I wouldn't dream of asking you to,' came the calm reply. 'Harry and the boys and Jane can cope until Moira is back.'
'Jane!' suggested Liz eagerly.
'Not enough experience.'
There was silence as they eyed each other.
'I shall be petrified… and it will ruin my Christmas dinner.' And on this idiotic statement her gaze faltered and she stared down at the floor. Giving a sigh, she raised her head and looked at him.
'Good girl,' said Adam Carlyon softly, and smiled, completely devastating any further argument Liz might have managed to think up. 'I'll go and find another script. Switch out all the lights, please, then get your things. We're driving over to Max's.'
She rejoined Adam at the front of the theatre where he was in conversation with a security guard, his huge alsatian sitting patiently by his side.
'Do not, Elizabeth, touch him,' he warned as she approached. He took her arm and led her over to the Morgan.
'I wasn't going to,' protested Liz. 'I'm not a complete fool, you know,' and ignoring the sceptical look on Adam's face, settled herself into the low seat.
'Oh, it is nice to be back in the Morgan, I'd forgotten how lovely she is,' she said, curling her hands beneath her knees and breathing in the smell of the leather appreciatively. Then realising that the last occasion was one which neither of them would wish to remember, asked quickly: 'Where does Max stay?'
'At the Midland Hotel, we've only just caught him, he's leaving later today.'
'You mean you've only just caught him,' said Liz gloomily. 'I don't want him.'
The small hotel was not far away and they found Max surrounded by paper and suitcases.
'Look here, Adam, I think I know what you want, but I've not had much time to work on it. Read this and see what you think.' Max handed some sheets over to Carlyon and then turned to Liz. 'Hello, Lizzie, going to have your name in lights at last, eh?' he asked her, smiling.
'If this madman has any say in the matter,' she replied in resignation. Sitting herself close to the fire, she wondered whether her blood had suddenly gone thin in panic.
'Elizabeth, stop worrying. You know I wouldn't ask you to do it if I wasn't certain you could.' Adam's dark eyes measured her for a moment. 'Don't you?' he demanded evenly. Liz nodded weakly and his eyes went back to the script.
Max grinned sympathetically. 'Do as the man orders, Liz. He knows best.' He stubbed out a cigarette into an already overflowing ashtray.
A short laugh from Adam attracted Liz's attention and she looked at him with suspicion. 'What's going on?' she whispered to Max. Another burst of laughter and Adam said with satisfaction:
'That's exactly what I wanted, Max. Thanks, you can go home now.' He hauled Liz to her feet. 'Wish us luck and have a good Christmas. Come on, Elizabeth.'
'Happy Christmas to you both.' Max followed them to the door and shook hands with Adam. 'Send me a press review, won't you, Lizzie?' He gave her a kiss and whispered : 'Good luck, Lizzie dear, and cheer up!'
Liz smiled and nodded, hastily following Carlyon out.
'Mm, I didn't know you knew Max so well,' he remarked dryly as they once more settled into the Morgan.
'We're just good friends,' said Liz in surprise, and then burst out laughing. 'Oh, dear, how trite that sounds! But we did get to know one another rather well over all that coffee and I think I deserve a medal keeping him out of your way so much! And he's rather sweet.' Liz flicked a side glance. 'I didn't realise I had to have your permission before I received a brotherly kiss,' she reflected demurely.
'In my opinion, brotherly kisses only come from brothers,' he. retorted, adding under his breath, 'I wonder why it is you manage to be brotherly with almost everyone but me?'
'Well…' began Liz, floundering.
'Not,' he continued. 'that I have any desire to be your brother, Elizabeth.'
'That's a relief,' she joked quickly. 'I have enough trouble with the one I have already. I rather think that you would probably be the proverbial last straw,' and thankful to change the subject, she asked in bewilderment: 'Now where are we going?'
No answer was forthcoming until he had negotiated a busy stretch of road, and then:
'We are going, my dear Elizabeth, to have some lunch. You have work to do which can't be attempted on an empty stomach.' As they swung into the forecourt, Liz protested:
'Adam, I'm just not dressed for the Magnum!'
The engine stopped and the handbrake applied before he turned to look at her. His gaze took in the deep apricot midi-skirt, canary yellow skinny-rib with brown tank top, short fur coat (a present from Great-aunt Annie, re-styled and still slightly smelling of mothball) crocheted cloche hat, also canary yellow, tan suede boots and shoulder bag… and lots of smudgy eye-shadow, hastily applied between the downing of paintbrush and departure. He smiled.
'You look delightful, Elizabeth. Perhaps we'll just remove this paint from the side of your cheek, but apart from that, the Magnum will be honoured.'
As if the Magnum dared to be anything else, after Adam Carlyon has. so decreed, Liz thought, and followed meekly in his wake. Certainly the Magnum seemed to be honoured, although it was more likely Adam Carlyon who impressed them, they obviously knew him well.
There are some men who look well in whatever they wear and command an unconscious air of authority wherever they go. Adam Carlyon, thought Liz with satisfaction, is one of them. In a russet-coloured cable-knit sweater, dark brown trousers and a brown and beige Prince of Wales check jacket, he looked positively delicious. As nonchalantly as she could, Liz followed the broad back of the waiter, Adam's hand beneath her arm, the interest and envy, she was sure, of most of the female diners.
'Surely they'll not have a table for us,' she whispered, gazing in dismay at the crowded dining room. 'After all, it is Christmas Eve.' Her remark was ignored and the waiter stopped at a reserved corner table. When they were seated, Liz said dryly: 'Naturally you booked a table.'
Adam looked surprised. 'Of course. Here's the menu, Elizabeth.'
'Why do you always call me Elizabeth, Adam?' she asked suddenly.
He stared at her for a moment, then, eyes narrowing, he looked down at the menu again, saying indifferently: 'Because that's your name.'
'But everyone calls me Liz, or Lizzie.'
'Really? Have you chosen?'
Liz gave up and studied the bill of fare, which would have satisfied the most ardent of epicures, and greatly daring, she chose the most exotic-sounding dishes, complete unknowns to her, but had the meal consisted of baked beans on toast, she would have enjoyed it just the same. Over coffee, she asked persuasively:
'Do please tell me what I have to do, Adam?'
'Wait until we get back to Elmscourt,' was his reply, but at least Liz had found out where they were going. A thought suddenly struck her.
'What about costume? Moira is only about five feet nothing,' she said in dismay.
'We'll cross that bridge on Friday when Val's there. Don't panic, Elizabeth.'
'It's all very well for you,' she complained, 'you aren't going to make a fool of yourself!
He smiled, and it was not until they were at Elmscourt and he had outlined what he wanted that Liz realised that making a fool of herself was exactly what she had to do. With all the furniture pushed back against the wall, Adam said briskly:
'As you've gathered, we can't make a five foot seven Elizabeth into a five foot one Moira. So well play it for laughs. Instead of being sugary and sweet you'll be a good fairy who never manages to get her spells right. One who's awkward and accident-prone.' He grinned. 'That much you can definitely manage, type-cast to perfection!'
Liz sighed heavily. Soon she was sighing in earnest, but as the afternoon wore on she began to get the feel of the Character and her confidence slowly returned.
'Good,' and Adam closed the script. 'You'll do for now. Work on it at home. Feeling better about it?' Liz nodded and he replied mockingly: 'You should trust me, Elizabeth.'
'You e
xpect too much,' she answered, half amused and half exasperated. 'I may not be able to do what you want.'
'Don't be ridiculous. It's time you stopped hiding behind Helen's shadow.' He crossed to the telephone. 'Can you rustle up a cup of coffee while I tell John the latest?'
Liz went happily into the kitchen. Getting the milk from the fridge she noticed how empty it was. When the coffee was ready she carried it through, to find Adam still on the telephone, although not speaking to John now. Liz carefully placed his cup within reach and then sat down, pretending she couldn't hear and reading through her lines.
'That's all the news this end, Louise,' Adam was saying. 'Glad you got there safely. Don't miss the connection and give us all kittens, will you? What? Oh, I'll manage. Happy Christmas, my dear, and see you Friday. Goodbye and take care.' He put down the receiver and stood looking at it. deep in thought. Then turning slowly he said rather absently : 'Coffee? Good. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, do you know any ballet, Elizabeth?'
'Only the rudiments, nothing fancy.'
'We don't need anything fancy. I'll get someone to work on you first tiling Friday. We'll keep it simple. You know the sort of thing, flat-footed and angular.'
'I think I can manage that,' said Liz dryly.
He looked at his watch and frowned. 'I think that's all we can do for now. Sorry to make you work over the holiday. Do you learn lines easily?'
'I'm not too bad,' admitted Liz. 'What,' she asked curiously, 'would you have done if I'd refused?'
'But you didn't. So let's not waste time on hypothetical questions.' He picked up her coat and slipped it round her shoulders.
'I wish I had, just to have seen your face.' she teased.
'I wonder if you'll be so cocky this time on Friday?' he asked, and pulling the canary cloche well down over her eyes, and following him out, Liz thought ruefully that he always seemed to manage to have the last word.
'Where shall I drop you, Elizabeth?'
'At the theatre, please.'
'You surely haven't anything else to do?' he demanded, ready to do battle.
Dear Villain Page 17