by Penny Jordan
‘Where do you find the energy?’ Helen asked her. ‘I envy you! Still, once junior arrives safely.…’ she patted her stomach and smiled, and mindful of what she had been told Kirsty wondered if perhaps Helen ought to be resting rather than tiring herself out entertaining them all. Something of her feelings obviously showed in her face, because Helen laughed. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told her. ‘I’m not as delicate as Simon likes to pretend—I’ve always been a semi-reluctant actress. Going on stage is something I always have to psyche myself up to, and it’s the strain of that rather than any physical tiredness I have to avoid. That’s why I’m not taking part in Much Ado.
‘Oh, here’s Drew at last,’ she exclaimed suddenly, a delightful smile illuminating her features. ‘Have you known him long?’
Drew? Did Helen mean Drew Chalmers? Kirsty stared at her in appalled disbelief.
‘Drew Chalmers?’ she questioned huskily. ‘But.…’
‘You knew he was hoping to come, of course?’ Helen was frowning now, obviously perplexed by Kirsty’s attitude. ‘Of course, as Simon’s partner Drew does try to come up here as often as he can, but as you will know, he has so many other business interests.’
Drew Chalmers was Simon’s partner—of all the appalling coincidences! Kirsty swallowed and tried to conceal her dismay. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the familiar male outline of him; how could she ever forget it, it was engraved on her heart, but this was the last place she had expected to see him. She could only pray that Helen would go and give her an opportunity to escape before Drew spotted her.
She was just starting to inch away when Helen raised her hand and beckoned Drew over. Kirsty felt as though she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, but it was no use telling Helen that she was the last person Drew would want to meet socially.
She was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the beginning of Helen’s next sentence, merely catching the tail-end of it, but what she did hear was enough to widen her eyes in disbelief, her mind reeling with shock.
‘You mean Drew recommended me for Hero?’ she exclaimed in a shaken voice. ‘But he’d never do that, he.…’
‘I can assure you that he did,’ Helen confirmed merrily. ‘I must admit that at first Simon had doubts—after all, you’re very young, very inexperienced, but he has a good deal of faith in Drew’s judgment—it’s always proved sound in the past, although this is the first time he’s ever actively recommended such a relative unknown—of course, he does see much more of what’s going on in the theatre through his work as a critic.’
Kirsty was still trying to assimilate the shock of firstly seeing Drew here—the last place she had expected him to be—and secondly, and perhaps worse, his involvement with the Ousebridge Players and his recommendation of her to Simon. It was something she was finding it impossible to come to terms with.
Why on earth had he recommended her? It was something she simply could not understand. And what must the rest of the cast think? She writhed mentally in horror; they must know how she had got the part, did they think that she had asked Drew to intercede on her behalf? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened, but even if she was able to wield such influence she would never, never do so. If she was to succeed she wanted to do so on her own merits. It was totally abhorrent to her to think that Drew Chalmers had been responsible for her getting the part. And yet only a handful of hours before she had been mentally thanking her unknown champion, making a vow not to let the company down. But that was before she had realised that Drew Chalmers was the one who had recommended her. Why? Because of what had happened in Winton?
She moved slightly, stifling a gasp as she realised that he was looking directly at her, freezing like a tiny trapped animal caught in the mesmerising glare of a predator’s gaze. He moved, lean and graceful in formal evening clothes; a man who automatically drew the eye of those who saw him, his predatory, tigerish stalk carrying him through the crowd that parted automatically for him. He was smiling at her, tiny lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, his mouth quirked in amusement, and Kirsty felt the resentment boil up inside her. How dared he take it for granted that she would be grateful for his intervention—and that was what his smile suggested. Didn’t he realise that she would far rather have succeeded on her own merits? And why had he done it? Not simply out of charity. A terrible thought struck her. He had been furious, she knew, at the trick she had played on him. Could this be his way of taking revenge; getting her a part that she herself suspected might be beyond her and then sitting back to watch her fail, before reminding her of his earlier judgment—proved correct by yet another failure. She darted a quick glance at the impassive features. Someone was talking to him and he was giving them his whole attention, yet it was impossible to read anything in his face. He was a man who was adept at concealing his real feelings, and yet they would run deep, Kirsty sensed that instinctively. She had played with those feelings as carelessly as a child might a box of matches, without realising the danger, until it was too late. Was Drew capable of acting in such a cold-blooded fashion? Her instincts gave her an unequivocal ‘yes’, and she shivered suddenly, causing Helen to frown in concern and ask if she was cold.
Reassuring her hostess, Kirsty was just about to excuse herself when Beverley Travers suddenly materialised at Drew’s side, her eyes narrowing in recognition and dislike as she spotted Kirsty.
‘Darling!’ she trilled in a clear carrying voice, polished fingernails bright spots of crimson against the silky fabric of Drew’s shirt. ‘Isn’t that your little bedmate over there?’ She was looking directly at Kirsty and there was no way that she or anyone else could mistake the remark or the look that accompanied it.
Kristy coloured to the roots of her hair, paling just as suddenly, conscious of Helen’s small gasp, and her protective hand on her arm; of Drew’s sudden frown, his grey gaze impaling her where she stood.
Everybody in the room seemed to be looking at her. They had all heard Beverley Travers’ deliberately malicious remark. Kirsty had a cowardly impulse to turn and run—and then Drew stepped forward, smiling lazily at Helen. Kirsty couldn’t look at him, so the sudden shock of his fingers curling round her arm was even greater, his breath stirring the faint tendrils of hair on her forehead as she heard him saying lazily over her head, ‘Helen, will you forgive us if I take advantage of your party to make a rather special announcement?’
Helen was laughing, and as Drew hadn’t lowered his voice at all, but had spoken in a cool but quite discernible tone, people standing within earshot had forgotten their own conversations in favour of listening to his.
This was it, Kirsty thought fatalistically. Having recommended her to the Baileys, he was now going to announce that he had changed his mind and why. She wanted to turn and run, melt away—anything to escape the dénouement she knew was to come. As though he sensed her desire to escape Drew’s grip on her arm tightened, the touch of those hard, lean fingers causing curious sensations to radiate outwards, from the spot where the careless stroke of the ball of his thumb over her skin sent frissons of awareness along her nerve endings. The caress was automatic and oddly soothing, nevertheless she was tense, anticipating with every second hearing his dry criticisms of her ability.
‘Well, darling?’ The words were anything but dry; and so huskily sensual that at first Kirsty didn’t realise he was addressing them to her; and in fact would have gone on oblivious to the fact that he was addressing her if Helen hadn’t smiled conspiratorially at them and murmured, ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
To what? Kirsty wondered dumbfounded, unable to think beyond the unreality of having Drew look at her with a tenderness that brought a strange lump to her throat, her mouth painfully dry as he turned her unresisting body to face him, his lips against her temple as he murmured quite audibly, ‘Shall I tell them, then?’
The smile he gave her as he kissed her lightly and then held her slightly away bemused her with it
s teasing warmth.
‘Tell them what?’ she was about to demand croakily, when Beverley Travers, obviously as much in the dark as Kirsty was herself, pushed past her friends to confront Drew, anger flashing in her eyes as she insisted, ‘I want to know what’s going on! First I discover this… this… person in your suite, and now.…’
‘Then I’ll tell you.’ Drew spoke quite calmly, but the look in his eyes would have frozen molten lava at a thousand feet and Kirsty was glad that she was not on the receiving end of it. ‘Kirsty and I are engaged.’
Kirsty didn’t know which of them was the more stunned. She rather thought it was her. Beverley Travers’ shock, although painfully evident, was quickly masked, a sneer quickly curling her mouth as she said cuttingly, ‘Clever little girl, but it won’t last.’ And then she was gone, turning on her heel and stalking through the crowd of people pressing in on them offering congratulations, masking their evident curiosity, chattering blithely about wedding dates and dark horses.
Kirsty stood it as long as she could and then suddenly could bear it no more. She longed for peace and quiet; to escape somewhere where she could come to terms with Drew’s shock announcement. Why had he done it? To punish Beverley Travers for walking out on him that night in his suite? Surely that must be the answer. In another man she might have thought his action born of some quixotic and chivalrous desire to protect her good name—after all, as both of them knew, Beverley Travers’ implication had had no true base, but then Beverley hadn’t known that. Nor did she know how close it had come to being true. Kirsty’s face flamed as she remembered that Drew had been the one to draw back, the one to call a halt.
‘Drew, Kirsty looks positively faint!’
Helen’s concerned tones cut through the fog of bewilderment enshrouding her, and the next thing she knew Drew was marshalling her towards some chairs, his murmured, ‘Now don’t you dare run away!’ holding enough of a threat to send her nervous system into a frantic overdrive.
Not that she was given any opportunity to flee, much as she would have liked to. No sooner had Drew left her to go and get her a drink than she was surrounded by avid questioners. When had she and Drew met? How long had they known one another? etc., etc. Cherry had just reached her when she saw Drew returning with a tall, frosted glass.
‘Well, well, you kept that a dark secret,’ Cherry commented. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll need Mrs Cummings’ bedsit now.’ When Kirsty looked uncomprehendingly at her, she added kindly, ‘Drew won’t want you living alone when you could share his house. He bought it when he originally invested in the theatre, and although he can’t spend as much time up here as Simon and Helen would like he keeps on the house for those occasions when he can.
Drew had invested in the theatre! Kirsty’s mouth fell open, and then suddenly the full meaning of Cherry’s comment became plain and colour surged into her too pale face. Fortunately, before Cherry could comment, Drew had reached them and was placing her glass on a small table he had commandeered.
‘What have you been saying to Kirsty to make her go that colour?’ he demanded of Cherry in a friendly manner, one arm draped casually round Kirsty’s shoulders, as he drew her down towards his shoulder.
Really, the man had missed his true calling, Kirsty thought bitterly. He was a consummate actor, currently engaged on giving his all to the role of newly engaged male, but why? Had she been right? Was it because of Beverley Travers?
‘I was just saying she wouldn’t need Mrs Cummings’ bedsit now that the pair of you had announced your engagement. She’ll be living with you.’
Kirsty found it impossible to look at him, which was quite ridiculous. He meant absolutely nothing to her; there was no reason why she should feel the slightest bit of embarrassment, but she did. She felt both embarrassed and confused, without being able to understand why. The mere suggestion of them ‘living together’ had been enough to remind her of that night in his suite; of how it had felt to have his arms round her, the male warmth of his body covering hers.
‘Excellent though your suggestion sounds, somehow I can’t see Kirsty agreeing to it.’
Wretched man! Kirsty thought, disbelieving what she was hearing. Drew had managed to inject into his voice a nicely judged blend of regret and acceptance, and she could see that Cherry was completely taken in by it, even before she heard her laugh as she commented,
‘Wise girl! You keep him in his place, Kirsty—but you could have told us that this was in the wind, you know,’ she added. ‘Why didn’t you? Helen and Simon would have been delighted. They’ve been urging him to sample the delights of wedded bliss for years.’
‘I wanted to tell them all along,’ Drew announced, astounding Kirsty with another barefaced lie, ‘but Kirsty had the notion that if they did they’d be bound to take her on, whether they thought she was up to the part or not.’
‘While of course, merely having you recommend me to them wasn’t moral blackmail at all,’ Kirsty scoffed, letting a little of her anger show in her eyes as she turned to face him.
She had forgotten that Cherry was still there until the other girl chuckled, but as always Drew had a ready answer.
‘Not the way I look at it,’ he agreed. ‘I’d already told them I was going to spend part of the next six months up here with them—Simon needs a break, he’s earned it, and naturally I wanted you with me. I’ve got it both ways now,’ he added with a slow smile. ‘Simon tells me you signed the contract yesterday.’
The contract! Kirsty had forgotten about that. Trust Drew with his Machiavellian mind to guess that she had been planning to tell Simon she had changed her mind and to leave Ousebridge just as quickly as she could.
‘And you needn’t worry about Kirsty not being up to the part,’ he told Cherry, further confounding Kirsty. ‘If I’d had any doubts on that score, I’d never have recommended her to Simon, love of my life or not.’
It was obvious that Cherry was completely taken in by his pseudo-sincerity, and Kirsty ground her teeth in helpless resentment as the other girl beamed a smile of approval at him.
‘How did you two come to meet in the first place?’ she questioned. ‘I mean, Kirsty here has only just left drama school, and Drew.…’
‘Is a famed, not to say notorious drama critic, way, way above the likes of struggling unknowns,’ Kirsty supplied with saccharine sweetness. ‘Well.…’
‘We met when Kirsty was performing in the new Alan Forster play,’ Drew supplied. ‘She had the part of Myra—and played it abysmally, I might add,’ he went on without batting an eyelid. ‘It was the worst piece of miscasting I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness.’
‘No wonder he felt he had to tie you down with a contract!’ Cherry marvelled. ‘He doesn’t believe in pulling his punches, does he?’
Kirsty opened her mouth to speak, to tell Cherry the truth, but once again Drew forestalled her, laughter lurking in his eyes as he said suavely,
‘If you’d let me finish, I was going to add that the director in me couldn’t resist the challenge of finding her the right part—as it happens, two right parts, the future Mrs Chalmers and Hero—you see, I’m getting her well trained,’ he added teasingly. ‘Hero is perfect wife material, and I only hope Kirsty takes due note of that fact while she’s playing her!’
Cherry’s mirth left Kirsty with no alternative but to grind her teeth in silent and bitter fury, and that interlude set the tone for the entire evening. Wherever she went, whoever she talked to, Drew was at her side; the perfect fiancé, only Kirsty aware of how tight his grip of her arm actually was, of the menace behind the warm smile. What was he trying to do to her? Or was she simply a pawn he was using against Beverley Travers, deeming it a fitting revenge for the trick she had played on him, using her until he saw fit to discard her with another grating criticism that would leave her career in ruins.
The only time she managed to escape him, Helen found her, her face breaking into a delighted smile as she told her again how thrilled she was by the news o
f their engagement.
‘I can understand you wanting to keep quiet about it,’ she sympathised, ‘but you mustn’t think that Simon took you on because of Drew. Good friends and business partners though they are, Simon would never forsake his own standards simply to please Drew, and nor would Drew expect him too. I’m so glad he’s found someone like you,’ she added simply. ‘For a while I feared he was becoming too embittered and cynical—our life can affect you like that. I was dreading hearing that Beverley had managed to snare him. I wouldn’t have minded if I thought for a moment that she genuinely loved Drew, but I doubt that she’s capable of loving anyone apart from herself. She’s intrinsically cold and hostile. I sense it every time I go anywhere near her.’ She laughed mischievously, obviously suddenly struck by something. ‘I can’t wait to see the fireworks when you and Drew have to work together,’ she explained. ‘I haven’t forgotten what it was like when Simon first directed me—fight!’ She raised her eyebrows in mock despiar. ‘It was dreadful—worth it, though,’ she added with a grin, ‘when we made up afterwards.’ She laughed again when she saw Kirsty blush. ‘I’d forgotten how young you are,’ she said. ‘Eighteen—nineteen?’
‘Twenty,’ Kirsty corrected her, biting her lip when she realised how juvenile the claim sounded.
‘Umm, and Drew’s thirty—thirty-one soon,’ Helen amended with another grin. ‘Ten years between you—a nice age gap, I think. There’s eight between Simon and me; just enough to put us in different decades and add a little extra spice to life. I hope you’ll be very happy,’ she added on a more serious note. ‘Oh, and Drew tells me he’s taking you to York on Monday to get your ring. He explained that he hadn’t had time to talk to your parents yet, and that he’d originally intended not to announce anything until he’d done so. However, in the circumstances I’m sure they’ll forgive him. I hope you weren’t upset by Beverley’s bitchiness. Drew explained to us how she burst in on you, and immediately leapt to the wrong conclusion. He must have been thrilled when you arrived unexpectedly like that—especially when he admitted that he was the one to blame for your quarrel.’