Devil in Disguise

by Julian Clary

  On the night of the party at Kit-Kat Cottage, there was quite a buzz at the theatre. Apart from post-show drinks at the pub or in the theatre bar it was unusual for the company to enjoy a social event together. Plans were made for Peter, Renata and Christine to travel to Long Buckby in the car with Molly, while Sam, Michael and Duncan would go with Roger, which meant they’d be a little later as Roger had to wait half an hour after curtain down for the night-shift person to take over his duties at the stage door. Marcus would travel there on his motorbike.

  ‘Your car appears to be a Nissan arrangement,’ commented Peter to Molly, as they had their traditional coffee in the green room before the show. ‘Are leather seats too much to hope for?’

  ‘Velour, chuck,’ Molly said.

  ‘Oh, the horror!’ said Peter. ‘I may break out in hives.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d better not come, then. I wouldn’t want you to suffer.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so looking forward to it!’ exclaimed Peter. ‘I guess I’ll just have to endure in silence. I may bring a roll of clingfilm. I’m sure you’ll be the perfect hostess once we get there. I’m contributing a bottle of Laurent Perrier. Rosé, naturally.’

  ‘Very acceptable,’ said Molly. ‘Lilia and I went to Sainsbury’s this morning. We’ve even upgraded from Cava to champagne, I hope we’ve got enough for you all.’

  ‘So do I. I’ve been saving myself,’ Peter informed her.

  Later, as Molly was applying her makeup, Christine came in with her wig, a heavy dark Japanese-style hairpiece with the traditional chopsticks through the bun.

  ‘Hiya, sweetheart!’ she said, in her pleasant, reassuring voice. ‘Bet you’re glad you’re about to see the back of this thing. One more matinée and evening show after this and you’re done.’

  ‘Gosh, you look nice!’ said Molly, admiringly. Christine was always well dressed, usually in soft, velvety fabrics cut low at the front to make a feature of the lotus-flower tattoo springing from her cleavage. Tonight she was in a bottle-green wraparound dress with a grey cashmere pashmina tied at her waist, gypsy style, and silver strappy sandals. She had made herself up with pink, glittery lips and shimmering black eyes. She wore copper earrings the size of bangles and, as ever, looked cool.

  Christine was pleased. She stole a quick glance at herself in the mirror. ‘Thanks. I thought I’d make an effort for our proper night out.’

  ‘I do hope no one’s going to be disappointed,’ said Molly. She closed one eye and applied a thick dark swoop of liquid liner along the lid. ‘It’s a buffet and a few drinks, not Sunday Night at the London Palladium.’

  ‘The invitation sounds very sophisticated. Pardon me for asking, but is Lilia famous?’

  ‘A living legend in some circles. She’s retired now, of course.’

  ‘Sounds fabulous! I can’t wait. I’ll meet you after the show, ‘said Christine, as she closed the door behind her.

  Molly stared at her white made-up face and painted little rosebud lips. ‘What’s got into everybody?’ she asked her reflection.

  ‘You’d think they’d never been to a party before. It’s not the Oscars, for Christ’s sake. I just hope Lilia can live up to the billing.’

  Such was the anticipation among the cast that they raced through the show, knocking almost five minutes off the running time. The moment the final curtain fell, Peter turned to Molly. ‘I’m going to have a quick shower and a facial scrub. I’ll meet you at the stage door in exactly eleven minutes.’

  In fact he was there in nine, dressed in a fresh blue gingham shirt, face gleaming and hair carefully blow-dried into the skeleton of a quiff. Renata was in a white linen trouser suit, still in full Oriental stage makeup. She said she had a bit of a headache and wasn’t sure if she should come.

  ‘Please come, Renata,’ said Molly. ‘Lilia is so looking forward to meeting everyone. You’ll love her.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said, sounding pained. ‘Just a brief hello. We have a matinée tomorrow. There’s going to be a terrible whiff of peardrops from the stalls.’

  ‘All the more reason to have a bevvy. Come on, let’s go to the car.’

  Renata always needed to be coaxed into coming to the pub or even into the dressing room for a glass of wine after a show but then, when she’d had a couple of sips, she was the life and soul. Molly wanted Renata to be there because she was a mature woman and a theatrical, and she thought Lilia might appreciate her.

  Christine arrived in a flurry of smiles and excited giggles and got into the back with Peter. Renata sat regally in the passenger seat and Molly drove. Once they were out of the city and into the winding country lanes, threaded with clusters of houses and villages, Peter said, ‘I wouldn’t fancy this drive every night. You need your wits about you in the pitch dark.’

  ‘I rather like it,’ said Molly. ‘I’ve seen starlings and pheasants, rabbits — even some sort of falcon the other morning.’

  ‘Treacherous in the winter months,’ rejoined Peter, knowingly.

  ‘Well, it’s not winter, is it?’ said Molly, slightly exasperated. ‘It’s September and we’re only here a couple more days.’

  When they eventually parked outside Kit-Kat Cottage, Peter peered out of the window. ‘Is this it? I was imagining some sort of quaint latticed-window affair. This is your bog-standard modern little bungalow.’

  ‘I think Lilia has fallen on hard times,’ said Molly, feeling defensive. Kit Kat Cottage now seemed like home to her and she didn’t like the critical edge in Peter’s voice. ‘It could happen to any of us.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Renata, quietly. ‘I was Peter Cook’s plaything once. Now I’m touring the provinces and attending parties in bungalows. How are the mighty fallen!’

  ‘Well, you’re right, I suppose, Molly. And I can’t really boast about my little pied-à-terre come to that,’ said Peter, sounding a little kinder. Perhaps he’d seen Molly’s expression of hurt and realised it was time to water down the theatrical bitchiness a little.

  ‘Shall we go in?’ said Molly. She had a distinct sense of trepidation about the evening ahead. If only Simon were here. He’d know how to keep them in check. But, as far as she knew, he and she weren’t even speaking at the moment so she’d have to manage alone.

  They got out of the car and stood in a line on the garden path as Molly fished in her handbag for the keys. Heathcliff barked gruffly from within.

  ‘Is there a dog?’ asked Peter, wary. ‘Only I’m not very good with them.’

  ‘It’s only Heathcliff,’ said Molly, soothingly. ‘He’s a big old softie.’

  She opened the door, greeted Heathcliff — who took one look at the visitors and padded off to Lilia’s bedroom — and led everyone into the empty lounge. The table was heaving with food and there was a strong smell of vinegar and Scotch eggs. Champagne glasses were lined up on top of the piano, with small, neat schnapps glasses gathered around them like day-old chicks with hens.

  ‘I’ll put the bags and things in my bedroom,’ she said, making a quick collection. ‘Do make yourselves comfortable.’

  ‘Lovely spread!’ said Christine. The three guests eyed the food hungrily. Everyone was always starving after a show. ‘I guess we’d better wait for the others.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Renata, with admirable restraint, although she couldn’t stop staring at a pork pie.

  ‘Sod that,’ said Peter. ‘Those stagehands look as if they haven’t eaten for a week. They’ll inhale this lot. Let’s tuck in while we can.’

  Molly left them to it and took the coats through to her room. She had just dumped them when the doorbell rang so she headed for the front door. Marcus came in first, flushed from his open-air ride, followed by Duncan, Sam, Michael and Roger. Molly led them into the sitting room and there were cries of mock surprise and joy as they all greeted the colleagues they had seen less than an hour ago, albeit in a theatrical version of Japan. Peter pulled his bottle of Laurent Perrier from a plastic bag with a flourish. ‘What we need
is some of this!’ he declared. ‘Sam, will you pass the glasses round?’

  Molly brought out two more bottles of Sainsbury’s own champagne and urged everyone to help themselves to the buffet while she popped the corks and started filling glasses. Soon the hum of conversation and the clink of cutlery on china plates filled the room.

  ‘All right, Duncan?’ Molly asked, as she did her best to circulate in the crowded room.

  ‘Mmm. I’ve no idea what I’m eating but it’s delicious,’ he said, spraying filo-pastry crumbs.

  ‘That’s the story of your life,’ said Peter, tartly.

  Renata had downed her champagne and was eyeing an elaborate glass bottle on the mantelpiece.

  ‘Peppermint schnapps,’ Molly informed her. ‘Have some! ‘‘Peppermint?’ demurred Renata. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Good for the digestion.’

  ‘Is it? Well, maybe just the one …

  Sam, Marcus and Michael were huddled in the alcove, drinking from cans of lager and somehow sharing a single armchair.

  ‘Now, boys,’ said Molly, as she passed, ‘sorry there are no kebabs, but this is all healthy fare, so don’t be shy.’

  ‘Is it Arabic?’ asked Michael.

  ‘I’m not eating sheep’s eyeballs!’ said Sam, and the three fell about laughing.

  ‘Arabic? What are you talking about?’ Molly pointed over at the table. ‘Rollmop herring? Dumplings? Gherkins and pumpernickel? You need to learn a bit about world cuisine, boys.’

  Roger slid round in front of Molly.

  ‘Hiya, Rog,’ Molly said brightly. ‘Like a top-up? I’ve got some bubbles left if you’re interested.’

  Roger ignored the offer. ‘This is very odd,’ he stated. ‘Where is Lilia?’

  ‘I don’t know, actually. She said we should start without her if she was still getting ready.’ Molly looked at her watch. ‘But she must be done by now. I’ll go and knock on her door.’

  ‘I mean, what sort of party is it where the hostess doesn’t even show her face? She’s not Elton John, for fuck’s sake.’

  ‘She’s here, don’t get your knickers in a twist.’

  ‘Well, go and get her. We could do with some entertainment around here. I’m not being funny but to be perfectly honest with you, I’m bored.’

  Molly put a placatory hand on his arm. ‘Okay, Roger, I get the message. Calm down, have a drink and I’ll see what’s keeping Lilia.’

  As she excused herself, pushing past everyone, she felt a little flustered and her smile was somewhat strained. Roger had managed to sour the mood for her, but perhaps he was right. It was odd for Lilia not to be present at her own party.

  She shut the sitting room door behind her just as Renata was letting out peals of laughter and Duncan was raising his voice to Peter. She took a couple of deep breaths in the corridor and knocked gently on Lilia’s door, which wasn’t on the latch. Heathcliff growled menacingly from within.

  ‘It’s only me,’ said Molly. ‘Just checking that you’re all right.’

  ‘Ah, Molly,’ said Lilia. ‘Do come in. It’s rather dark in here.’

  Molly pushed the door open and stepped inside. She could see nothing but darkness for a moment, then made out Lilia’s silhouette framed against the window. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and her left arm was moving slightly. Seconds later Molly realised Lilia was stroking Joey’s forehead. The old lady was wearing a floor-length, ruby-red sequined gown, which shimmered like ectoplasm in the gloom.

  ‘The guests have arrived, I hear.’

  ‘Yes, they’re having a great time. Are you coming to join us?’

  ‘I do apologise. Joey will not settle.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ asked Molly, eagerly. ‘Shall I make him a cup of tea?’

  ‘No liquids at this time of night. The only answer may be to increase his medication.’

  ‘Why don’t you bring him to the party? It’s only next door.’

  ‘They might confuse him with the rollmop herrings. I’d never forgive myself if he was accidentally eaten.’

  Molly snorted, more with surprise than amusement. ‘Lilia, that’s awful! Come in and enjoy yourself. You look beautiful.’

  ‘Not a particularly convincing compliment as I’m sitting in the dark, but thank you. I shall endeavour to make an appearance shortly. I feel …‘ She hesitated, her voice trembling very slightly. Then she continued. ‘I feel — unsure of myself. Nervous of meeting all your young friends.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to feel like that. They’ll like you, I promise, and you’ll love them. You’re just like us.’ Molly was overcome with pity for the poor old lady who had wanted to have a party and impress the theatre folk but was now too scared to show her face. Molly went to the bed and knelt down next to it. ‘I don’t have a mother. But if I did I’d feel very proud if she was like you.’

  Lilia bowed her head, and Molly heard a quiet sob. ‘This is such a Disney moment,’ said Lilia. ‘Crying is the least I can do.’

  Molly got up, then sat on the other side of the bed so that Joey’s skinny, withered legs lay between them. She took Lilia’s hand and clasped it to her chest. ‘You are a star, Lilia. Never forget that. Come and have some champagne. Meet your public.’ Molly released her hand and the two of them hugged, forming an arc over Lilia’s supine spouse.

  Molly returned to the lounge, poured more drinks and reassured everyone that the hostess would be with them shortly. The excitement was on the brink of souring if Lilia didn’t appear soon. It was now almost half past one, and the stagehands were restless and keen to go now that the beer had been drunk. Peter was getting positively militant with indignation. ‘What is this? I’ve never waited so long for someone to make an appearance in all my life! I mean, you’ve done your best as a warm-up act, girl, and good on you for trying, at least. But don’t you think it’s time you served up the main course?’

  ‘Lilia will be here any moment,’ Molly said, as winningly as she could. ‘Come on, Peter, just a few more minutes. Have another drink. I’ve kept a bottle of champagne back just for you.’

  With Peter placated, Roger sidled up. ‘You want to tell Lilia to get a move on,’ he murmured. ‘I hear rumblings. Renata’s getting very loud. That peppermint schnapps is going down as if it was a can of Lilt. And Duncan’s been giving Peter death stares for the last twenty minutes. Unless something distracts them soon, they’ll be wrestling each other to the floor. Christine appears to be rolling a joint and I can feel one of my heads coming on. You’d better do something.’

  ‘All right!’ said Molly, feeling desperate and wondering what on earth she could do.

  As if on cue the door swung open and everyone fell silent. An intriguing shadow came through the door first, and then a magnificent Lilia, head held high and steady, her hair fashioned into a fox-red candyfloss halo, her dress glimmering and gleaming in the light. Her hands were resting on her hips. She surveyed the room. ‘Wilkommen! I’m so glad you could all make it.’ She bowed.

  After an awkward pause Duncan started the clapping and soon everyone joined in. Renata let out a couple of appreciative whoops. Peter passed Lilia a glass of champagne and shook her hand, suddenly rather bashful. ‘A magnificent gown you’re wearing this evening, Miss Delvard. Thank you for having us to your lovely party.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Lilia graciously. ‘I wore this dress when I appeared at Carnegie Hall. Tom Jones asked me to marry him that night.’

  ‘Really? That’s amazing!’ said Peter. ‘Tom Jones has been married for years, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Or was it Liberace? I forget.’

  The rest of the visitors swirled around her.

  ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ said Renata. ‘I’m Renata Maxwell. Contralto and Katisha in The Mikado.’

  ‘Ah! A young Lauren Bacall!’ declared Lilia, which went down very well.

  ‘So thrilled to meet you,’ Renata gushed. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing you sing.’

  �
��We shall see,’ said Lilia, waving her hands in front of her as if bothered by a fly..

  ‘Fantastic makeup!’ said Christine, bobbing up and down in front of Lilia like an exuberant child.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Lilia. ‘I learnt makeup application during my time in Hollywood. Have you heard of a film called Cleopatra?’

  ‘With Elizabeth Taylor?’

  ‘That’s the one. I was Libby’s stand-in.’

  ‘Wow!’ exclaimed Christine.

  ‘She’s a sweetheart. Never well, though. Even then. It’s me you can see in all the Nile scenes. Miss Taylor had a bout of intestinal hurry. We were so alike no one ever twigged.’

  ‘I can see the resemblance even now,’ said Christine, admiringly.

  ‘It helps if you half close your eyes and look at my left profile. ‘Lilia turned her head obligingly.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ said Christine, excitedly. ‘It’s uncanny!’

  Lilia glided a yard away from her and tapped Roger on the shoulder. ‘So glad you could come, Roger. And many thanks for placing the invitation on the noticeboard for me.’

  ‘Always happy to oblige,’ said Roger.

  ‘The Derngate holds a special place in my heart. It was a very memorable night.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ said Roger. ‘Lots of people are still talking about it.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Lilia, nodding. ‘Now, pass me a fork, would you?’

  Roger handed her one from the table and Lilia tapped the side of her champagne glass to gain everyone’s attention.

  Molly had been hovering at her shoulder, entranced by her landlady’s charm. She had spoken to almost everyone. Now Molly stood back to bask in her star quality.

  ‘Thank you, thank you,’ Lilia began. ‘May I thank you first, most sincerely, for making the trek out here into the wilds. It means a great deal to me that you took the time and trouble.’