Firth

by Vaso

  Max enjoyed cutting his sort down to size. Vanessa remembered the play script that she had typed for him.

  It had made fun of just such a bureaucratic blunderer, exposing him with a wicked sense of humour that had been absent tonight. She wondered if Max really disliked the man he had been interviewing just now. A trace of impatience had crept in that was usually absent in his discussions. She had never known anything ruffle his cool manner before. In his professional life, that was, she amended hastily. He had lost his temper often enough with her.

  'I do like that Max Anderson. He really does get them going, doesn't he?' Mrs Thompson voiced her approval loudly over the closing credits. 'And he's a treat to look at too. It'll be a lucky girl that lands him.'

  Vanessa agreed absently. There was no point in arguing the fact. She went to bed instead and lay there restlessly trying to sleep and failing. Max's face refused to be banished from her mind. It was over a month ago that he had stalked arrogantly away from her at the press reception, not allowing her to utter a word in her defence. In that moment she had hated him as she had never hated a man before. She had thought of him often in the last few weeks, although she had made a conscious effort not to. Somehow a chance word or phrase, sometimes even an idea loosely expressed, had the power to conjure his dark features into her mind.

  And tonight she had only to see his flickering image on the television screen for the hatred that she thought she felt towards him to disappear and all the old longings revive and intensify. It didn't matter that he despised her as an actress and a woman. All she wanted was the feel of his arms around her, the touch of his lips against hers. What fool had said that physical feeling died after a while? If her experience was anything to go by, exactly the opposite was true.

  What was he doing now? How was he managing without her? With his usual competence, she supposed.

  There would no doubt be a queue a mile down the street when he advertised the vacant secretarial post. And every one of the applicants madly besotted with him and overwhelmed at the idea of working for the man who had stunned them on the television. She absolved him from enjoying that kind of adoration; he hated being stared at as a public face. Vanessa smiled at the thought of his irritation. At least she had never embarrassed him by admitting that she loved him, although she had come near to admitting it that night at Jill's flat.

  The lucky girl who was his new secretary would have a rude awakening when she started working with him. She would discover that his temper was diabolical, his standards were exacting and his presence disconcerting to say the least. But perhaps she wouldn't mind. Maybe she would cope better than Vanessa had done. No one could manage any worse. Of course it probably helped not to be in love with the man.

  Fortunately the next two weeks passed in a hectic blur that left no time for reflecting on Max Anderson. There were too many other matters to fill Vanessa's waking hours. The first night was four days away, then three, and suddenly it had arrived and she was sitting in the star dressing room in a state of flat panic. Her dresser was fluttering around her making last-minute adjustments to her first act costume, 'the tannoy on the wall was registering the subdued buzz that was the audience settling itself into its seats, and then there was the assistant stage manager's voice cutting in to summon all those who were due on stage as the curtain went up.

  Vanessa licked her dry lips. Why had she ever wanted to become an actress? Why hadn't she taken up something safe and dull like chartered accountancy? Why hadn't she decided to earn her living almost any other way than by going out on a stage in a few minutes' timeand making a complete fool of herself? She looked at the pile of good luck telegrams that littered the dressing table in front of her. There was a lucky black cat made of pipe cleaners that Jill had sent her. There were flowers all over the place. People she thought would have forgotten her long ago had remembered her.

  And she wasn't going to let them down this time. This play was not going to be a repeat of Pontoon. She was going to be a success. Her heart nearly failed her when she thought of Max sitting out there in the stalls with the other critics, waiting to review her performance. It was a bit like being an early Christian thrown to the lions, she decided. But at least the Christians had a sporting chance. Or did they? She was past thinking any more. What was her first line? She couldn't remember it. She had a ghastly feeling of blankness, utter panic.

  Then someone pushed her along the narrow corridor that led from the dressing rooms to the stage. The glare of the lights was somehow warm and comforting. She was amongst friends. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered and then calmed as she said her opening words. It was going to be all right.

  The interval applause was encouraging, but it wasn't until the final curtain that they knew for sure. The silence from the audience in the last harrowing moments of the play was intense. Then the deafening roars of approval that rang out from all sides of the house signified that they were a success.

  'Look at that,' one of her co-stars said out of the corner of his mouth as they took their bows. 'Even some of the critics are clapping.'

  Vanessa wondered if Max was one of them. Probably not. It wasn't his style. She looked, but she couldn't see him anywhere. There were shouts of approval as she took a solo bow and renewed bursts of clapping kept

  the curtain rising and falling steadily. It was almost as if the audience couldn't bear to let them go.

  'What did I tell you?' said Jonathan as he sat in Vanessa's dressing room a quarter of an hour later, a glass of champagne in his hand and an expression of deep satisfaction on his face. 'You've done brilliantly, my girl. I knew it from the beginning. This play couldn't fail. Didn't I say so?'

  'Yes, Jonathan,' Vanessa agreed obediently. He'd said just that about Pontoon. But tonight wasn't the time to think of her failure in that. She was an assured success now. Her dressing room was overflowing with people who were only too anxious to tell her so. Some were friends; some were people she had never met in her life before. Still others were familiar faces from the worlds of television and films.

  And they were all congratulating her, Vanessa Herbert, on a stunning performance! Was she dreaming this, she wondered, as a casting director who had definitely no time for her two months ago fawned over her with promises to be in touch with her about a new television play that would, he assured her, be exactly right for her. Vanessa looked across at Jill who was sitting quietly in a corner letting the whole scene swim before her. She didn't believe it was happening either.

  The tide of people continued for quite some time and soon Vanessa's face ached with receiving congratulations with a grateful smile. Daniel appeared as if from nowhere and caught her to him, kissing her full on the lips.

  'I thought you were in the States?' Since she had rejected him he'd gone back to New York. She had had a brief card from him. Tonight he had sent her a good luck telegram and a large bouquet of flowers.

  'I wanted to keep an eye on my investment,' he told her. 'I snuck back yesterday specially for the first night.'

  He had a girl with him, a slim blonde who seemed nice enough. 'I'm glad to see you're not that brokenhearted,' Vanessa said softly to him.

  'Caroline, you mean? A passing fancy.'

  'Like I was?' she asked him teasingly.

  'You were never that,' he told her. 'If I thought there was a chance that you——'

  She kissed him on the cheek. 'There isn't.'

  'Sure about that?'

  'Quite sure.'

  Her dresser came in at that point like a guardian angel, determined to rid the place of all these people. 'Come along now, everyone out! Miss Herbert has to change for the party.'

  There were a few grumbles, but they were good-natured ones. In the space of .a few minutes Vanessa had the place to herself. Her dresser had helped her out of her costume and had left her alone. 'You'll be glad of a quiet moment or two to yourself after all that mob,' she said cheerily, and Vanessa had agreed.

  She reached for her wrap and p
ut it round her, then began the automatic process of creaming her face to remove the heavy stage make-up. Her head was spinning with all the noise and excitement that had surrounded her since curtainfall. That must be over an hour ago, she thought in surprise as she looked at her watch. She felt suddenly weary, as if she had been dragged off on a ten-mile hike. She supposed in a way that she had been. The strain on her nerves this evening had been tremendous.

  Now that she was alone her thoughts went to Max. He had been out there somewhere in the darkened auditorium. What had he thought of the play? Had he liked it? More important, had he liked her? What kind of notice could she expect from him tomorrow morning? It was a long time to have to wait. She wondered if he

  would eat his words about her and admit that she had acted well tonight. Not for him the massively inflated praises that the other critics sometimes indulged in. If he thought something was good, he said so bluntly, not in a high-flown way. That always made his good opinion worth having.

  She roused herself from her reverie and reached for her dress. There was a party at one of the big hotels to celebrate the play's success and she would be expected to attend. Jonathan had already whisked Jill off there in his car, arranging to meet her later. Daniel had gone on ahead too, although he had offered to wait around to drive her there. She had refused the invitation with a smile at the girl with him, who was looking a little disappointed. She wanted him to herself, and who could blame her?

  Til get a taxi, thanks,' she told him. Til be ages yet, what with changing and messing around. You don't want to hang about when you could be enjoying yourself. Just make sure they keep some champagne for me, will you?'

  He didn't try to force the issue. 'You bet! I'll save you a whole case full.'

  Vanessa did her face and hair with care, then slipped into the evening dress and pulled it up over her shoulders. It was a slinky black outfit that clung to every curve and looked daringly seductive. It had been more than she had expected to pay, but somehow it had seemed made for her and she hadn't been able to resist it. She zipped it up and studied herself in the mirror with critical eyes. She presumed, "without false modesty, that all eyes would be on her when she finally arrived at the party. It was as well to ensure that she looked at least presentable.

  She yawned as she got to her feet and took her coat down from its hanger. She supposed it was ungratefulof her to be thinking like this, but she would much rather be going home to the flat and seeking her well-earned bed than dancing the night away in celebration. The penalties of fame, she thought, and laughed aloud. What an idiot she. was sometimes!

  Everyone else seemed to have gone already, she noticed as she made her way through the empty, echoing corridors to the stage door.

  'You're the last one to leave, Miss Herbert,' the stage door keeper told her in some surprise. 'I thought you might have gone out the front way. I'm afraid all the autograph-hunters have given up long ago. Still, you won't mind that, I'm sure.'

  'No.' Sometimes it was an effort to pin on a smile and sign her name for the fans when all one really 'wanted to do was go home as quickly as possible. But it was still a sufficiently new sensation for Vanessa that she had enjoyed it on the whole so far. Tonight, however, it would be a relief to dodge it. 'Goodnight,' she called, and stepped out into the street, shivering as a blast of cold wind howled round her. She wondered whether she should step back and ask the stage door keeper to get her a taxi, then decided not to bother. Shaftesbury Avenue was only round the corner and she wouldn't have any trouble in attracting a cab at this time of night.

  She was walking briskly out towards the main street when a tall figure stepped out of the shadows and came over to her. For a second she felt uneasy. After all, it was late and the area wasn't that salubrious for a woman on her own.

  'Hello, Vanessa.'

  She would know that voice anywhere. Her heart started the usual wild dance that Max Anderson always induced in her. 'Hello,' she managed feebly. 'What are you doing here?'

  'I phoned my notice in and came back. I've been waiting for you.'

  She supposed there were a lot of witty responses to that, but she could only ask directly, 'Why?'

  'I wanted to talk to you.' His voice was as cool as ever. It sent shivers of attraction down her spine. One would never have guessed from his manner that this was the man who had flung away from her with such loathing only a few weeks before.

  Well, she could be cool too. 'Really?' she said, achieving a note of faint surprise. 'I thought you said all you wanted to say the last time we met. I understood I wasn't to have the pleasure of communicating with you again.'

  'You haven't lost that sharp tongue of yours in the meantime, have you?'

  'Did you hope that I might have?'

  'No such luck,' he said, and there was an odd note in his voice that she couldn't immediately identify. 'We can't talk here,' he went on with more familiar impatience. 'I've got the car parked round the corner. You're heading for the party, I suppose. I'll drive you there.'

  Vanessa opened her mouth to refuse and then shrugged. What was the point in being childish about it? He was probably going to the same place. And she couldn't resist the thought of a, few moments alone with him, whatever -the consequences^ She let him take her arm and lead her towards the car.

  She was silent as he switched on the ignition and edged his way out into the main street. She studied his features for a clue to his mood and drew a blank. He didn't seem over-eager to talk either now that he had her to himself. She cleared her throat nervously. 'What did you want to speak to me about?'

  The car drew to a halt at a set of traffic lights and then surged ahead in a sudden burst of speed. At firstshe thought he hadn't heard her question and was going to repeat it when he answered her. 'Daniel tells me you're in love with me,' he said in a conversational tone. 'Is it true?'

  Vanessa had expected anything but that. A comment on the play, perhaps, or her performance in it. Even a reference to some shortcoming of hers in the past that had caused him inconvenience. But never that.

  'Well?' he pressed her. 'Was he right?'

  'It's nothing to do with you,' she told him desperately.

  'It's everything to do with me, if it's true.'

  'It's not,' she lied. Heaven forgive her, but she couldn't take his ridicule.

  In the light of the street lamps she saw a sudden frown crease his forehead and wondered if he believed her. Did it matter one way or another to him? The car raced forward as he trod on the accelerator. Vanessa was suddenly aware that this was a very long journey to a hotel that was a short distance from the theatre.

  'Where are we going?' she asked him. 'Where are you taking me? They'll be expecting me at the party.'

  "They can expect,' he said carelessly. 'I'm taking you to the flat. We've got quite a lot to get straight between us.'

  'There's nothing I want to talk to you about,' she told him furiously. 'I hate you, Max Anderson!'

  'You've told me that before. Women who repeat themselves bore me.'

  'You don't have to put up with me. Turn the car round and take me back to the party.'

  'Later,' he said imperturbably.

  'You can't just abduct me!' she protested.

  'Can't I?' he asked, faint amusement creeping into his voice. 'I thought I'd done exactly that.'

  Til be missed.'

  'I told Daniel you'd be with me. He'll make your excuses for you.'

  'Daniel seems to have volunteered quite enough on my behalf already,' she snapped. 'Anyway, it's up to me whether I accompany you or not, and I prefer not.'

  'What are you going to do about it? I wouldn't recommend you to make a jump for it. You'd only break your neck going at this speed.'

  'A fat lot you'd care!'

  'You'd be surprised,' he assured her, and she subsided back in her seat, aware that there was nothing that she could do to alter the situation, however much she disliked it.

  By the time they drew up outside the apartment block
where Max lived she had had time to think. She didn't know what was going through his mind, but she mistrusted the look of devilry on his face. There was danger ahead, of that she as sure.

  'I'm not coming in with you,' she said firmly. 'If you won't drive me back to town, I'll get a cab from here.'

  'You will get out of the car, walk through that door and into the lift with me,' he told her. 'Or, if you prefer, I can carry you. It's less dignified, but you never have bothered about that, have you?'

  He meant what he said, she could tell. She got out of the car, contemplated the possibilities of sudden flight and dismissed them instantly. He would catch her before she had got fifty yards, probably well before then. She would have to do what he wanted. She stalked ahead of him to the lift and stood silently by his side until it reached the top floor. Then she got out and waited by his door while he found his keys and opened it for her.

  She walked into the living room, switching on the lights as she went. Nothing had changed as far as she could see. The desk by the window was still piled highwith papers. Whoever was working for him wasn't making a very good job of it. She had organised things a little better.

  For some reason the familiar territory unne'rved her. She had meant to remain silent, let him make the first move, but something impelled her to talk. 'How—how did you get on with the play?' she asked. 'Did they take it?'

  'Yes.'

  She swallowed nervously. 'I thought they would. It was very good, you know. Very funny. Very witty, I mean.'

  'Yes, I know.' Max wasn't helping matters, lounging by the door, looking wickedly attractive in his dark evening clothes. Vanessa felt the pull of attraction that always drew her to him and forced herself to ignore it. 'So you're launched on a new career now. Television dramatist, no less. How will you fit it all in?' She was babbling incoherently and they both knew it.

  'Shut up, Vanessa,' he told her.

  'Why?' she faltered.

  'Because I want to kiss you,' he said and, taking a quick couple of strides across the distance that separated them, he took her in his arms and bent his head towards hers.