Chapter Eighteen
Karen had given Peter his tea early, bathed him and put him to bed. He’d just about worn her out today, whingeing and crying for Adrey all day. Simon had insisted that she stay at home to look after him. There had been a horrible scene about it last night when she got home from Susan’s flat. Karen shuddered at the memory.
By the time she’d arrived home Adrey had gone. Simon had put Peter in his car seat and driven her to the station. He was waiting for her when she got back from her mother’s. She found him sitting in the living room with a face like thunder and the moment she got in, he started.
‘I hope you’re proud of yourself!’
Karen began to take off her coat. ‘Well, I’m sorry but Louise was certain you were kissing her,’ she said. ‘How was I to know…?’
‘You didn’t wait to find out, did you,’ Simon stormed. ‘Just came steaming in, throwing accusations around like confetti. That poor girl! It was the last thing she needed, or deserved after the news she’d just had.’
Karen winced. ‘I know that now and I’m really sorry.’
Simon snorted. ‘Too little, too late. She won’t be coming back, thanks to you!’
Karen hung up her coat and came back to sit down opposite Simon. ‘Well, I’ll write a letter of apology to her.’
‘I’m sure that will be a big comfort to her but you still won’t get her back,’ he said sarcastically. ‘She said she’d have to stay anyway, to support her mother.’
‘Oh, then it isn’t all my fault?’
‘So – you think that makes it all right then, do you? Bursting in and accusing the poor girl of seducing your husband. And have you even given a thought to how humiliating it was for me?’
‘I’ve said I’m sorry.’
‘Have I ever given you any reason not to trust me?’
‘No.’
‘Then why start now at the worst time possible? And since when have you taken anything Louise said as gospel?’
Karen sighed. ‘I don’t know. I was tired, I suppose. Adrey is very pretty and just lately …’
‘Just lately you’ve had no time for me or Peter. You’re always too tired and preoccupied. You were suffering pangs of guilt, that’s it, isn’t it?’ Karen’s shoulders drooped and he went on: ‘Incidentally, in case you’re wondering, I put Peter to bed. You’re so self-centred you haven’t even enquired about your son!’
‘Well, I guessed you’d put him to bed, obviously. And I told you, I’ll write to Adrey and apologize. I suppose we’ll have to get Peter into a nursery now,’ she said, half to herself. ‘Either that or ask Mum to—’
‘Oh no! We’ll do nothing of the sort,’ Simon broke in. ‘From tomorrow you’ll be taking care of him.’
Her eyes widened. ‘But that’s not possible. What about my class?’
‘I’ll get a supply teacher in until I can replace you. You’re packing the job in right away, Karen; at least until Peter goes to school. I’ve had enough. You’re a wife and mother. That should take priority.’
So here she was, stuck in the house all day with a fractious child and a whole heap of ironing that Adrey hadn’t had time to do before she left. And all thanks to Louise. Karen ground her teeth at the thought of how much she’d like to wring her sister’s neck. Why had she believed what she said? She had to admit that Simon had been right. If she faced up to the truth she knew it. She had been neglecting her home and family lately. Once home from school, she had been too tired to play with Peter – too tired to listen to Simon’s news when he came home, and at bedtime, too tired to make love. It was weeks since she had shared any intimate moments with Simon and if he had strayed she knew that she would only have had herself to blame.
But to have to stay at home day after mind-numbing day felt like a punishment. Peter was adorable, of course, and she loved him to bits, but to be restricted to the conversation one could have with a two-year-old, or, worse, with the other mothers clustered round the swings in the park, obsessed with which supermarket was the cheapest or which were the best nappies, was enough to drive her mad. A wail from upstairs told her that Peter was awake and demanding attention again. She sighed. Maybe she’d put him in his buggy and walk round to her mother’s. It would pass the afternoon and by the time she got home it would be Peter’s teatime.
Susan was pleased to see them both and immediately put the kettle on for the inevitable cup of tea.
‘What are you doing home at this time of day?’ she asked as Karen took off Peter’s coat.
‘Simon has insisted that I give up my job now that Adrey has left,’ Karen told her. ‘She’s not coming back. Thanks to Louise I made a complete fool of myself yesterday. That poor girl had just received a devastating telephone call and then I burst in with my accusation. Simon was absolutely incandescent with rage when I got back, and that was when he insisted that I give up the job at once and became a full-time mother.’
Susan smiled sympathetically. ‘Well, I can’t really say I blame him, dear,’ she said. ‘Peter needs his mum and you know, you never get these lovely baby years back again.’
Privately Karen thought it was just as well but she didn’t say so. Like Simon, Susan held the old-fashioned notion that a woman’s place was in the home. ‘Peter is missing Adrey,’ she told her mother. ‘He’s been really difficult all morning – nearly driven me balmy with his whingeing.’
Susan pulled the little boy onto her knee. ‘Poor little chap,’ she said, dropping a kiss on the toddler’s blond head. ‘At this age, stability and routine are important. I’m not surprised he’s upset. If you want any help, Karen, you know I’m always willing to lend a hand, don’t you?’
Karen smiled. ‘Yes, I know you are, Mum, and I’m really grateful. I might take you up on that.’
‘It’s not as if I’ll be doing anything else,’ Susan said wistfully. ‘Ted came round with a bouquet of flowers while Louise was here one morning. I was out and I’m afraid she told him where to go in no uncertain terms.’
‘She had no right to do that,’ Karen said. She looked up at her mother. ‘Although you weren’t going to think of starting the relationship up again, were you?’
Susan sighed. ‘I don’t know. I really miss him. Maybe I should have given him more of a chance to explain.’
Karen snorted. ‘Huh! What’s to explain?’
Susan sighed. ‘Ah well, I’ll never know now, will I?’
‘Why can’t Louise keep her meddling nose out of other people’s business?’
‘I think that’s what they call the sixty-five thousand dollar question,’ Susan said.
Chapter Nineteen
When there was a ring on my bell on Saturday morning, my heart jumped into my mouth. Ever since the break-in, I’d been really nervy and the landlord had refused to do anything about the broken door, saying that it was down to me to get it repaired.
I picked up the entry-phone. ‘Who is it?’ I called from behind the chest of drawers that had been securing it ever since the break-in.
‘It’s me – Mark.’
With huge relief, I buzzed him in and when I heard him outside, I pushed aside the chest and opened the door. He looked at me quizzically. ‘What’s with all the furniture removal?’
‘Being burgled isn’t something to joke about,’ I told him. ‘As I told your sister, I came back on Thursday night to find the place had been thoroughly gone over and the door still isn’t fixed.’
He looked around. ‘What are you doing in a dump like this anyway?’
‘This is where I’ve been all the time.’ I confessed. ‘I didn’t want you to see it.’
He laughed. ‘I’m not surprised.’ He looked around. ‘Whoever broke in has certainly made a mess of the place.’
‘Do you mind? I’ve tidied up since then. You should have seen it when I got back,’ I told him.
‘And you haven’t notified the police?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing’s been taken and I can do without the hassle.’<
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He sighed. ‘Just as well we’ll be out of here first thing Sunday morning. Are you packed?’
I pointed to the two suitcases standing by the door. ‘You bet. I can’t wait.’
Mark looked round. ‘And you say they didn’t get anything?’
I shook my head. ‘There wasn’t anything worth taking. Certainly no cash.’ I looked at him. ‘I can’t help thinking I know who’s behind this.’
‘Really – who?’
‘Just before I went away, I had a phone call from a guy who said he’s my half-brother. He wanted us to meet. I didn’t like the sound of him so I said no.’
‘That’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it? Presumably he doesn’t even know where you live.’
I vaguely remembered giving Mum the name of the road. It wouldn’t have been that difficult for him to find me. ‘He might have found out,’ I said.
Mark looked doubtful. ‘Why did he want to meet anyway?’
‘Said he wanted us to get to know one another.’
‘So – is that bad?’
I shook my head. ‘What would we have in common? I’ve never set eyes on the bloke. It seems my mother married again and had another child. His father was a violent man and she divorced him while he was in prison.’ I looked at Mark. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m beginning to wish I’d never set out to find her.’
He nodded. ‘I got the feeling you were less than happy with the meeting.’
‘That’s not all. She borrowed money from me before we parted,’ I told him.
‘How much?’
‘A couple of hundred.’
He whistled. ‘Pheew! Maybe you told her too much about yourself. I have to agree that it doesn’t augur well for re-forging your relationship with her.’
‘Or him,’ I reminded him. ‘My so-called half-brother.’
He put his arms round me and gave me a hug ‘Poor old sausage. Never mind, once we’re out of here you’ll have nothing to worry about.’ He held me at arm’s length and looked at me. ‘Would you like to come back and spend the night at the flat?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I’ll be OK here. After all, it’s only for one more night.’
‘Well, let’s go out for the day, then, spend our last day in London by celebrating.’
I laughed. ‘Celebrating what – my burglary?’
‘No, the start of our record-breaking success, of course.’
‘You hope.’
‘I don’t hope – I know! I’ve got a really good feeling about Oh Elizabeth. We’ll start with the London Eye, then lunch at a little place I know in Soho. How does that sound?’
We spent a lovely day in the West End and I felt much better when Mark dropped me off but for some unknown reason I had the nightmare again that night. I hadn’t had it for ages but this time it was different; this time I was the mother and the one doing the walking out. I couldn’t make head or tail of it when I woke but it gave me a dark, disturbed feeling that lasted for ages. It was only when I came to enough to remember that this was the day we were travelling down to Bournemouth, one step nearer to my success as an actress, that I was able to clear my mind and set about getting ready.
Mark picked me up at eight o’clock in the Ferrari. I’d asked him to come early because I didn’t want to encounter my landlord again. I’d paid the rent and the man in the room upstairs had fixed the door for me (after a fashion) but I hadn’t given him the formal month’s notice, and I didn’t want an argument on my hands over the extra rent he was bound to demand.
We stopped off for lunch at a nice restaurant in Farnborough and arrived in Bournemouth late that afternoon. Mark did a tour of the town to get our bearings, then parked the car in a multi-storey car park and turned to look at me.
‘Right, shall we go and find ourselves somewhere to stay?’
I nodded. ‘Got any ideas? I don’t know Bournemouth.’
His eyes twinkled. ‘How about booking a room at the Royal Bath for a couple of nights? My treat,’ he added. ‘We can look around for somewhere cheaper once we begin rehearsals and get our bearings.’
We’d passed the Royal Bath on our tour and I’d been well impressed. My heart gave a leap. ‘Oh, Mark, that sounds wonderful.’
We took our bags and checked in. A porter took our bags upstairs and ushered us into a wonderful room with a sea view. Once the man had gone, I turned to Mark.
‘This is a real treat,’ I said. ‘I hope it’s just a taste of things to come once we’re famous.’
We went down to dinner and Mark ordered a bottle of bubbly to celebrate. He held his glass aloft.
‘Here’s to us,’ he toasted. ‘Us, the play, full houses and fame and fortune for my favourite leading lady.’
I sipped my champagne with relish. The future sparkled even more than the bubbles in my glass.
We hardly slept that night; partly because we were high on champagne and anticipation of the day to come and partly because our enthusiastic lovemaking kept us busy. Mark was so skilful and practiced that I was swept away on a cloud of sensual pleasure again and again. As I lay in his arms, my head on his chest, I asked him how he came to know so much about how to please a woman. He looked down at me.
‘There’s no secret,’ he said. ‘When you’re as much in love as I am with you, it comes naturally.’
I didn’t really believe him. It was always difficult to know when to take Mark seriously, but I didn’t really care. After all, we were staying in the kind of luxurious hotel I’d always seen myself staying in and the future couldn’t look brighter. He deserved my appreciation at the very least.
‘Do you think you could ever love me back?’ he whispered. ‘Just a little bit?’
I snuggled closer. ‘You are a silly old romantic, Mark Naylor,’ I said. ‘Stop getting carried away.’
‘You make love as though you mean it,’ he said softly.
‘Of course I mean it,’ I told him. ‘You’re so damned good at it I’d have to be made of stone not to.’ I glanced at the bedside clock. ‘Have you any idea what the time is? It’s actually getting light. If we don’t get some sleep we’ll be good for nothing in the morning.’
We were due at the Pavilion Theatre at 10.30 so after a wonderful full English breakfast, Mark and I strolled across the road to the Pavilion. I stood in the forecourt looking up at it.
‘Wow! It’s so big.’
Mark nodded. ‘Restaurants and a massive ballroom as well as a very large theatre. It’s a wonderful place to be launching.’
I felt a thrill of excitement. At that moment, several other cast members joined us, led by Carla Dean. She looked at me with her usual disdain.
‘Where did you two get to last night?’ she asked. ‘You weren’t on the train.’
‘We drove down in Mark’s Ferrari,’ I told her airily. ‘And we’re staying at the Royal Bath.’
To my great satisfaction her eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? Get you! Living it up as the leading lady already! Well, we’d better find the stage door, I suppose. Unless you want to stand here boasting all morning.’
We located the stage door and went inside. Carla was first to inspect the dressing rooms.
‘Mmm, not bad,’ she announced. ‘But someone has left their stuff in this one.’
On inspection, the other dressing rooms seemed to be full of other people’s belongings as well. Phil shook his head.
‘It’s too bad,’ he said. ‘The previous lot should have packed up on Saturday night. They should have moved out yesterday morning at the latest.’
At that moment, music could be heard coming from the direction of the stage above us. We stood speechlessly, staring at each other as a tenor could be heard singing ‘The Music of the Night’ from Phantom of the Opera. When the song came to an end, Carla made her opinion heard in no uncertain terms.
‘What the bloody hell is going on?’ Without another word, she stormed up the stairs to the stage, the rest of us straggling behind. I arrived just in time to see her striding on
to the stage where a rehearsal was clearly in progress.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, her sonorous voice echoing round the stage. ‘May I ask what is going on here?’
A man, presumably the director, stood up from his seat in the stalls and walked down to the stage. ‘I might well ask the same question of you. Who are you, anyway?’
Carla swept her hand around in our direction. ‘We are the cast of Oh, Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘We are supposed to be rehearsing here from this morning until our opening next week.’
The director looked puzzled. ‘My company are opening here next week,’ he announced. ‘We are the number one tour of Phantom of the Opera. If you’d like to go up to the foyer, you’ll see our posters and flyers. The forthcoming attractions posters are on display outside too. I’m surprised you didn’t notice them.’
We stared at each other. I nudged Mark. ‘Maybe we’ve got the wrong theatre,’ I whispered. Mark cleared his throat and spoke up.
‘Come along, Carla. We’ll go and see the theatre management about it.’ He nodded to the director. ‘I apologize for the interruption. There’s obviously some mistake.’
Appeased, the man nodded. ‘That’s quite all right. I hope you get it sorted out.’
Carla was furious and complained all the way back to the theatre foyer. ‘What a cockeyed arrangement,’ she complained. ‘Just wait till Paul gets here. He’s going to be hopping mad.’
The front-of-house manager knew nothing about us. We all crowded into his office and explained our predicament but he said he’d never heard of Paul Fortune or a show called Oh Elizabeth.
‘There’s another theatre across the road,’ Phil pointed out. ‘Do you think that’s where we’re supposed to be?’
We straggled across the road to the smaller Palace Court theatre, but there were billboards in the foyer advertising a thriller beginning next Monday. Defeated, we all repaired to a café further along the road to try to decide what to do.
Give Me Tomorrow Page 13