by Penny Jordan
‘Oh, by the way, you know…’
‘Time we were on stage,’ Meg announced firmly, taking Kirsty by the arm. She was feeling dreadfully nervous, a whole flock of butterflies clamouring for release in her stomach, and she barely registered Simon’s unfinished sentence as Meg ushered her out of the room and back stage.
Rachel was already there, her normal expression hidden beneath her Beatrice.
‘Right,’ Simon instructed softly behind them, and in the concerted move towards the stage, protected by the closed curtains, Kirsty barely had time to wonder where Drew was.
During the initial part of the first scene Kirsty had little more to do than speak briefly and then remain in the background, which gave her ample opportunity to study the other actors as they entered part-way through the scene. They all looked unfamiliar in their costumes—Kirsty still hadn’t got used to the difference they could make. She stiffened as she studied Claudio, her eyes widening as they lifted to his face. Only it wasn’t Rafe’s face, it was Drew’s. Her heart started to thump erratically. What was Drew doing playing Claudio?
She found out during the first interval. Rafe’s sore throat had proved more serious than had been expected and he had been told by his doctor that if he went on stage he risked losing his voice altogether.
‘Wasn’t it lucky that Simon was able to come back to direct?’ Cherry chattered enthusiastically as she helped Kirsty to change ready for the wedding scene, ‘otherwise Drew wouldn’t have been free to play Claudio. There you are,’ she announced, fastening the dress. ‘Very nice—almost like a dress rehearsal for the real thing,’ she added a grin, ‘although Drew’s hardly likely to do a Claudio on you!’
‘No,’ Kirsty agreed hollowly. It was true he wasn’t, for the very simple reason that he had no intention of marrying her in the first place.
Knowing that she was playing opposite Drew increased her nervous tension, and Kirsty was actually trembling when she went back on stage. A vague sense of unreality seemed to possess her, so that she wasn’t entirely sure what was real and what was merely play-acting. Drew’s cool, cynical eyes were real enough, and so was the expression in them. Just for a moment Kirsty actually felt she was Hero, unable to comprehend why her husband-to-be was looking at her so coldly. And then came his rejection of her.
Listening to the cold hauteur of those words, Kirsty had no need to act. Her shame and pain were real; her agony of mind at being so misjudged evident in her expression as she spoke her own lines in a voice that trembled with fierce conviction. The audience was forgotten; the other actors were forgotten; she was simply a woman in love trying to convince her lover that he was wrong. Gradually her trembling anxiety changed to scorching sarcasm; it was evident in her movements, and the curl of her mouth, underlined as she spoke her lines, fading away to nothing as she listened to Claudio’s final denunciation before swooning away at his feet.
Somehow she managed to stumble off stage when the curtains closed. Cherry was waiting for her.
‘Oh, Kirsty, you were marvellous! I actually cried!’ she told her. ‘I couldn’t believe I could be so affected—you were a thousand times better than I’ve ever seen you before. You’ve stolen the show from Rachel,’ she added with relish. ‘She’s furious! I’ve just heard her arguing with Drew. She says you deliberately upstaged her.’ Cherry gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘Drew wasn’t impressed. Actually he didn’t seem to be in a very good mood. Perhaps he’s finding being on stage a strain.’
Kirsty was inclined to dismiss Cherry’s comment as fanciful until her final scene with him. He did look strained, she acknowledged. Beneath the stage make-up his face was drawn in bitter lines. Was it because Beverley wasn’t here and he still had to tell her that they were back together?
Kirsty forced herself to concentrate not on her own private pain but on the play.
The final scene was a very emotive one. Drew’s voice was raw with a feeling that brought the ache of tears to her throat, until the moment when he had to accept her in place of Hero.
He stepped forward, touching her arm, and Kirsty started to tremble. In the seconds before he kissed her she experienced an aching sense of loss to know that they were simply acting two roles and that the sensual brush of his lips against hers was no more than a part of that acting. But even that knowledge was not sufficient to prevent her lips from parting beneath his, her body swaying against him, her eyes closing as she drowned in the fierce pressure of a kiss that made her eyes sting with tears. And then it was over. The rest of the play passed in a fog of unreality. She took her bows with the rest of the cast, still wrapped in the strangely numbing blanket which had engulfed her the moment Drew released her.
As she made her way to her dressing room, the applause of the audience still ringing in her ears, all she wanted to do was to go back to her room and sit re-living the precious memory of Drew’s kiss. She started to cleanse off her make-up automatically, when the door opened and in the mirror she saw Drew’s reflection. He was still wearing his costume, but like her had removed his stage make-up.
‘It’s all right, Meg,’ Kirsty heard him saying calmly as the older woman got up to leave, obviously thinking tactfully to give them some time alone. ‘I just came to tell Kirsty that I’ll pick her up outside in fifteen minutes.’
‘Wasn’t she wonderful?’ Meg enthused. ‘I don’t think anyone watching the pair of you could have doubted that you were very much in love,’ she added forthrightly. ‘It showed. I can’t remember ever seeing such a charismatic performance before. Poor Rafe,’ she said with a chuckle, ‘he’s got a lot to live up to!’
Kirsty had intended to tell Drew that she wasn’t going to the party, but she could scarcely do so with Meg listening. Instead she showered quickly and changed into the dress she had brought with her, her fingers stilling for a moment as she slipped it over her head. It was the cream dress she had worn the night she had first seen Drew. She hadn’t worn it since, but it was the only thing she had that was suitable, and after all, only she knew what memories it aroused.
As he had promised, Drew was waiting for her outside, the Porsche gleaming luxuriously under the street lamps. Kirsty was glad she had worn her dress when she saw that Drew was wearing formal evening clothes.
‘Simon normally makes a point of inviting several influential people to these do’s,’ he told her by way of explanation. ‘It helps generate goodwill towards the theatre. He normally holds them at home, but because of Helen’s pregnancy, this time he’s hired a suite at the York Royale. Have you seen him since the play finished?’ he asked her with curious abruptness.
Kirsty’s heart started to thump uncomfortably. Why did Simon want to see her? Hadn’t her performance been good enough after all, or worse still, had Drew suggested to him that in view of the fact that he was being reunited with Beverley it would be an embarrassment to them both if Kirsty remained with the company?
She managed to shake her head in negation, although it was impossible for her to speak.
‘So I’m going to be the first one to congratulate you on a first-rate performance, am I?’ Drew asked her in a metallically flat voice that seemed to hold neither approval nor praise.
‘I was…’ Just behaving naturally, were the words trembling on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to silence them, and Drew filled the gap by supplying sardonically,
‘Just doing your job? Oh, you don’t need to tell me that. I take back everything I said about your acting ability,’ he added with a savagery that took her off guard. ‘You’ve all the makings of another Rachel. For a moment there on stage you almost had me convinced. A word of warning, though. Actors are a hot-headed race. Carry on as convincingly as you were tonight and you’ll have difficulty dislodging them from your life after the play is over.’
Kirsty didn’t reply. She could not. A huge lump had formed in her chest. Her body felt heavy and tired; her head ached, and she had an overwhelming desire to put her head on Drew’s shoulder and burst into tears.
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‘Nearly there. Looking forward to the coming adulation, are you?’
What would he do if she told him the truth? That she no longer cared about her career; that much as she enjoyed acting she lacked the driving intensity that would take her to the top and that right now all she wanted from life was to be Drew’s wife and to bear his children. Of course the theatre would always draw her, she would never lose that, but she acknowledged that now she would never feel as intense about it as she had done.
Obviously not expecting a response to his question, Drew turned into the gates of the hotel and brought the Porsche to a halt outside the main door. A uniformed commissionnaire stepped forward to open the door for her, taking the tip Drew proffered as he drove the car away to park it. An attractive receptionist pointed out the way to the suite where the party was being held. It was completely self-contained, she explained, adding with an enthusiasm which at any other time Kirsty would have found thrilling,
‘My sister saw the performance tonight. She just rang to tell me that it was absolutely super and that I must get tickets. I’ve never been a great one for Shakespeare, but according to her this was really something!’
Kirsty blinked a little as she preceded Drew into the crowded room. There were far more people in it than she had anticipated; Drew had obviously made an understatement when he mentioned that Simon invited a few outsiders.
Cherry came rushing up to them and hugged her enthusiastically, and soon other members of the cast were thronging round them, congratulating them and telling Kirsty that she had been superb.
‘I don’t know about bringing tears to the eyes of the audience,’ Meg sniffed at one point. ‘I was pretty close to them myself when you rejected her, Drew. It was all so emotional!’
‘Perhaps it wasn’t simply acting,’ Rachel remarked maliciously, watching Kirsty’s face.
‘Kirsty darling, you were so good!’
Kirsty dragged her eyes from Rachel’s face to stare in bemused disbelief at her aunt and her husband.
‘Chelsea—Slade—but…’ Her eyes widened even further when she saw her parents behind them.
Ann Stannard hugged her emotionally. ‘Darling, I couldn’t believe that was my little girl up there! I was so proud of you.’
‘Me too,’ her father agreed gruffly.
‘But you never said you were coming. You didn’t even acknowledge the tickets I sent you.’
‘You’ll have to blame Drew for that,’ Chelsea told her, taking her sister’s place to hug Kirsty warmly. ‘He rang us and told us he wanted to surprise you. Although it seems that you have a surprise for us,’ she added meaningfully.
‘Yes, you naughty girl,’ Ann Stannard chided. ‘But Drew has explained to us that you didn’t want anyone to know about your engagement until after the play opened, and that it was only because Beverley Travers guessed that you made it official.’
Drew had told her family they were engaged! Kirsty turned her head and encountered his grimly unsmiling face.
‘Now that we’ve all said our hellos, why don’t we give them a few minutes on their own?’ Slade suggested. He was looking at Drew and an unspoken message seemed to pass between them. ‘We can all get together later on at the hotel for a celebration worthy of the event.’
A little to Kirsty’s surprise no one made any demur at Slade’s suggestion. Even her mother seemed less inclined to fuss than usual, and Kirsty could tell that she approved of Drew, but then what mother wouldn’t?
‘Come on, Kirsty,’ Drew’s fingers touched her arm, ‘have you forgotten that we still have things to talk about?’ he asked in a low voice.
She hadn’t, but why on earth had he complicated matters by telling her family that they were engaged?
She didn’t realise until he pushed her gently towards the door that he intended them to have their talk away from the hotel, but by that time they were already out of the foyer and on their way to the dark shadow of the parked Porsche.
The road to Drew’s farmhouse was familiar enough to her now for her to recognise it instantly, and as they traversed the short distance in silence, Kirsty had time to build up the anger that was all she had to sustain her through the coming ordeal. How dared Drew invite her family up here and then make a fool of her by announcing their engagement—an engagement which he knew would soon be over?
He assisted her from the car with his usual courtesy, but Kirsty could tell that he was unusually tense and distant with her. Perhaps he too was dreading the coming interview; dreading her making some sort of emotional scene. Well, he needn’t be. She intended to behave with all the control at her disposal.
Even so, it was nerve-racking having him head her to the comfortable sitting room, with its cosy lamps. She refused the drink he offered her, watching miserably as he poured himself one. His hand shook slightly and the knowledge that he too was on the edge nearly destroyed her poise completely.
His glass was placed on the table before he had even taken a sip from it, his expression partially obscured as he turned towards the fire.
‘Kirsty,’ he began slowly, ‘I want to…’
‘No, Drew,’ she interrupted firmly, praying she wouldn’t let herself down now. ‘I want to tell you something.’ She had tugged her ring off as she spoke and proffered it to him on the palm of her hand.
‘I do realise that now you’ve achieved your aim, there’s no longer any need for me to go on wearing this, so I’d like you to take it back.’
‘Achieved my aim? What the hell are you talking about?’ The violence of his words robbed her of breath. ‘Look, Kirsty,’ he said impatiently, ‘you’re not on stage now. I brought you here so that I could make one last desperate appeal to you…’ He ran unsteady fingers through his hair and Kirsty had an uninterrupted view of the tension and anguish in his face. Pain exploded inside her that he should feel like that for Beverley.
‘You don’t have to appeal to me to set you free, Drew,’ she managed jerkily. ‘I know you and Beverley were together in New York, I know…’
‘You know nothing,’ Drew broke in explosively, ‘nothing at all.’ His eyebrows snapped together suddenly. ‘What do you mean you know we were in New York together? You know no such damned thing. She happened to be on the same plane as I was going out there, but apart from that I haven’t seen her since she walked out of this house weeks ago—and anyway, what’s Beverley Travers got to do with us?’
Kirsty gaped at him.
‘But, Drew, surely the whole purpose of our engagement—of my being here—was to make Beverley jealous, so that you could get her back. You told me it was.’
‘I did?’ All of a sudden his expression seemed to have changed, losing some of its anguished tension and instead becoming curiously watchful. ‘Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to refresh my memory,’ he told her quietly. ‘When did I tell you?’
‘The night you brought me here after you’d announced our engagement. I told you I knew you had an ulterior motive, and you agreed. Surely you remember? I told you there was simply no way I was going to help you.’
‘I remember that bit all right,’ Drew agreed in a very dry voice, ‘but I… Tell me more about my motives in getting engaged to you, Kirsty,’ he demanded thoughtfully. ‘You guessed I had an ulterior motive, go on from there.’
‘If it had been anyone else I would have thought they were just trying to protect me because you knew… I…’
‘Because you were still a virgin and I knew it, whatever Beverley might care to imply, and I didn’t want the rest of the cast believing you were my mistress, but of course I wouldn’t be gentleman enough to do that—is that what you’re saying?’
Put like that it sounded almost insulting.
‘You were so angry with me in Winton,’ Kirsty palliated. ‘And with every right.’ She bit her lip. ‘I had no right to try and do what I did. It was unforgivable—and childish. I was wrongly cast in the Howard play, and…’
‘Did it never occur to you that I m
ight have another reason for forcing our engagement on you?’
Kirsty stared up at him, puzzled.
‘Like what?’
Wry self-mockery gleamed in his eyes, his smile slightly mocking. ‘My dear Kirsty, you are one very dense young woman. Come over here.’
Puzzled, she did as he bid, gasping as, when she got within arm’s reach of him, he took hold of her shoulders, his hands sliding up into her hair as he drew her closer; close enough for her body to respond dismayingly to his proximity. Her lips parted automatically as his hovered over them, and then he was kissing her, gently at first, and more fiercely as his fingers tightened into her hair, tilting her head back, and her emotions ran out of control.
It was several breathless seconds before he released her.
‘Doesn’t that tell you anything?’ he asked huskily.
Her tongue touched dry lips nervously.
‘It tells me you find me desirable,’ she managed at last. ‘Even though I am a virgin.’ There was bitterness in the final words and she found herself back in Drew’s arms, her chin held firmly so that she was forced to meet his eyes.
‘Perhaps I ought to try a different tack,’ he murmured dulcetly. ‘When I kiss you, what do you feel? Merely desire?’
Kirsty’s face flamed. ‘I…’ She struggled to break free of his arms, unsure of her ability to lie when he was looking right into her eyes. ‘I…’
‘Will it help if I tell you that I love you and have done since you walked out of my bedroom and caused havoc in my life—something I once swore I’d never allow any woman to do—? It’s quite true,’ Drew promised softly, ‘so true that unless you say something quickly I’ll be forced to prove it with actions rather than words. Have you any idea what it’s been like?’ he groaned suddenly. ‘Wanting you, loving you, and all the time terrified of losing you?’
‘Every idea,’ Kirsty replied quietly. This time when his eyes searched hers she felt no need to hide her feelings.
‘When?’ he asked softly, but she knew what he was asking.