Dear Villain

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  'And that,' said Adam, draining his glass, 'is where I came in.' He walked to the door and turned, a teasing quality in his voice that surprised her. 'Has anyone ever told you, Elizabeth, that you have a gorgeous pair of legs?' and then he was gone and Liz was left contemplating the aforementioned limbs with a silly smile on her face.

  Even the smallest of audiences provide the stimulus needed for that extra spark in a performance and the final dress rehearsal proved no exception. On the stage management side things went comparatively smoothly and on the acting side the response from the invited few was encouraging. Liz sought out Judy and found her enthusing to Martin, who then left to get changed.

  'What have you done to yourself?' Judy asked with deep foreboding, as she gazed at Liz's forehead.

  'Er—I had a slight trip—but I wouldn't recommend the journey.' She grinned amiably. 'Are you dashing off now?'

  'Yes, I'm on duty in half an hour. Thank your clever Mr Carlyon for letting me come and tell him how much I've enjoyed it. We'll talk tomorrow. Goodbye, Liz.' With a smile and a wave Judy hurried out and Liz made her way on stage. She flicked the switch for the revolve and watched the scenery circle round until act one faced out front again.

  'The wonders of modern machinery,' said Val as she walked on stage from the wings. 'Want some coffee, Liz? There's plenty in my flask.'

  'Val, I love you! I've got a cup somewhere—ah, here it is.' They both wandered over to centre stage which was now only dimly lit. 'There's nothing really like it, is there?' asked Liz, contentedly drinking in both the coffee and the atmosphere of "the street in Padua" in which they were standing. 'Once bitten by the bug you've had it.' She gazed out front. 'This time tomorrow the seats will be full of people, all waiting expectantly, eager to…'

  'Are you two going home tonight, or are you so fond of the place that you're taking up residence?' Adam Carlyon's tall figure loomed up out of the dark auditorium and he stood smiling, one dark brow raised questioningly.

  'There was a time when I thought I might have to!' admitted Val, laughing. 'As it is, I've still some last-minute things to do.'

  'The costumes are perfect, Val, thank you for working so hard on them.'

  'Thank you,' said Val quietly but obviously pleased, and with a smile at them both, left with a quick, 'Goodnight.' Liz watched her go, a tiny frown on her face, envying Val her composure. If Adam had praised her—and heavens, that took some imagining—she was sure to act like a teenager and go red and mumble like an idiot. She gave a start as she realised that Adam had spoken to her.

  'I'm sorry, I didn't quite…' She broke off and smiled. 'I was miles away, I'm afraid.'

  'I only asked if you have anything more to do here?'

  'No, I don't think so. Everything is set in readiness. It doesn't seem possible that we're actually opening tomorrow.' Liz gave a last look round and satisfied that all was well, dowsed the remaining light and followed Adam out. 'Your job is over now,' said Liz thoughtfully. 'How do you feel, just having to stand back and watch?'

  'It's not really over, you know. Oh, I'm not one of those directors who forever haunt the dressing rooms, breathing down the actors' necks. But at the same time, it's important to keep an eye on things, make sure the play's kept at the correct pace. Sometimes bad habits creep in and it's better they're trodden on immediately.' He smiled down at her. 'The habits—not the actors.'

  Liz returned his smile, saying sincerely: 'I don't think you need worry. You've done wonders with them and I'm sure it's going to be a success.' She hurriedly began to put on her jacket, and her pace quickened slightly.

  'Why, thank you, Elizabeth,' he said, helping her free the collar. 'Coming from you, that means something.' She turned her head quickly, searching his face for cynicism, but there was none. 'How's the head?' he asked lightly.

  She pulled a face. 'Not too bad, how's the leg?'

  'I'll live,' and holding the stage door open for her, he said: 'It's raining heavily, but I see you have a lift. I'll say goodnight then, Elizabeth,' and with a nod he strode off in the opposite direction and Liz walked slowly towards the patiently waiting Martin.

  With the whole of Wednesday looming emptily before her, Liz wandered aimlessly round the flat.

  'How about coming for a breath of fresh air, Liz? It's a lovely afternoon and you're making me nervous, prowling around like that.' Judy had just woken and eaten her breakfast ', and closing the window she turned to look at her friend. 'Come on, it'll be better than sitting doing nothing.'

  'I know,' admitted Liz, 'but I couldn't go far, Judy. I'm always like a cat on hot bricks on an opening.'

  'We needn't go far. How about the park the other side of the dual carriageway?'

  'What energy you have! All right, a brisk walk it is.'

  'How's nights going?' asked Liz ten minutes later as she threw a stick for a friendly stray mongrel. 'I tried to be as quiet as I could this morning, did you sleep well?'

  'I slept fine. Once my head's down, I'm out for the count, usually. I've been put on a fairly quiet convalescent ward at the moment. In one way, I wish I was on a more strenuous one, keeps you awake, although I'll probably be moved next week and then I'll be eating my words.'

  'How long will you be on nights?'

  'They're trying out this monthly system at St Anne's now. It seems to be working. Liz, that dog will be following us home. Here, take the bread and feed the ducks and then we'll have to turn back.'

  The telephone began to ring as they opened the front door and Judy raced up the stairs, two at a time, to answer it. Slightly out of breath, she said:

  'Judy Lawson speaking. Oh, hello. Yes, hold on.' Covering the mouthpiece, she whispered: 'It's Adam Carlyon,' and passed it over to a puzzled Liz.

  'Yes?'

  'Elizabeth.' The voice was crisp. 'We've a crisis on our hands. Paul Scott collapsed this afternoon and has been taken to hospital. You'll have to take over.' He paused, then said sharply: 'Elizabeth? Are you still there?'

  'Yes,' said Liz, gazing wide-eyed at Judy.

  'Good. I thought perhaps you'd collapsed on me too. I'll pick you up about five-thirty so that you have plenty of time to sort yourself out before the performance. Which of the ASMs is the more reliable? We'll leave Jane on props.'

  Liz found her voice. 'Andy, I think, though there's not much between them.'

  'Andy it is, and Steve can take the prompt book.'

  'But, Adam,' bewilderment showed in her voice, 'pick me up? Why? There's no need, I can easily catch…'

  He interrupted with amused resignation.

  'Are you arguing with me again, Elizabeth? You'll have to take Paul's place at the dinner,' he explained patiently, 'so bring your glad rags with you. Don't keep me waiting.'

  'No, of course not,' Liz replied weakly, and replaced the telephone.

  'What's happened?' demanded Judy.

  'Paul Scott's ill. He's in hospital.'

  'And?'

  'I have to take over,' said Liz, her mind busy with all the implications this news implied.

  'How do you feel about it?' asked Judy, struggling with the key and finally opening their door.

  'Well, I've taken over during rehearsals and managed, but it's rather different when it's the real thing and so much at stake.'

  'That's just panic talking,' Judy said calmly, preparing the tea things. 'You really know what to do backwards, don't you?'

  'It's just if something goes wrong, shall I cope? Oh, well,' Liz shrugged, 'time to find that out, if and when it happens. With a bit of luck and a good deal of competence, nothing will, I hope!'

  'Did Adam say what's the matter with… what's his name?'

  'Paul? No, only that he'd collapsed. I'll watch the toast.'

  'I'll have a scout round tonight and try and get news of him if he's in St Anne's.' Judy yanked at the grill and looked ruefully at the smouldering toast.

  'It is slightly browner than we want,' agreed Liz with a laugh.

  'Perhaps I'd better take over,'
said Judy, pushing Liz out of the kitchen. 'You go and sort yourself out for tonight.'

  'Good lord, the civic dinner!' Liz ran her fingers through her hair. 'If I'd known I would have had this done professionally—just look at it!'

  'I am looking. It's soft, shiny and looks very attractive. What will you wear?'

  'The toast!' wailed Liz, rescuing the blackened remains.

  'Yes, the birds will do well today. Let's concentrate on one thing at a time, shall we?' suggested Judy with a grin. 'We'll sort through your extensive wardrobe after tea!'

  This they did, although as Liz pointed out, extensive was hardly the right word. She pulled out one or two dresses, rejecting them with a frown.

  'What about this one? Helen persuaded me to buy it and I've always felt it too sophisticated for me, but perhaps this is the occasion for it?'

  'Try it on,' suggested Judy, 'it's difficult to tell until I've seen you in it.'

  'I don't normally wear black. I thought it terribly expensive at the time, but Helen was insistent.' Liz struggled into the dress and Judy zipped her up.

  'She was right to be,' said Judy. 'Turn round.' The dress was of fine crepe. V-necked, it fitted snugly over bust and waist, swirling out into a flowing skirt. The sleeves were in three flouncing layers, the longest reaching to just above the elbow.

  'Yes, that's the one,' decided Judy. 'Have you a small case? I insist you borrow my cape, it will go beautifully over this.'

  'Bless you, Judy,' Liz said breathlessly, quickly changing into backstage uniform of black sweater, black trousers and pumps. Putting on her jacket, she sat at the window, keeping her eye open for the Morgan, flicking quite unnecessarily through the script. She heard the car first, and looked up to see it sweeping round the corner. By the time she was at the gate, Adam was doing a precise three-point turn and as she heaved her case into the back, he commented:

  'Punctuality in a woman is a rare commodity.'

  'Can you prove that statistically, or is the remark just based on personal experience?' she asked with some asperity, settling herself in the seat. 'There's not much room in these cars, is there?'

  Adam said: 'You can't rile me by insulting the Morgan, Elizabeth.' He expertly negotiated a traffic block and Liz heard the amusement in his voice. 'And I consider there's just the right amount. Two's company, etc. It suits me very well at the moment, perhaps later on I might consider a change.'

  Liz wondered if that was when he became a family man, for she had heard Louise openly declare that she wanted children of her own.

  'You look rather pale, Elizabeth. What's the matter? Nervous? You needn't be.'

  Liz settled lower into the seat, thrusting her hands deeply into her pockets, wishing that nerves didn't make her hands and feet so cold.

  'I've contacted all heads of departments,' Adam went on, 'and told them about Scott. Polly's informed the Town Hall that you're his substitute and I'll tell the cast just before curtain. They can do their share by being extra punctual on call; they would have been anyway, on a first night, but no harm in giving them an incentive.' He swung the wheel round and they swept into the car park. When the engine note died, he turned and looked at her. They were very close in the confines of the Morgan. Liz wondered dreamily what it would be like to run her fingers through his dark hair.

  'Hey, wake up!'

  She jumped slightly and tore her eyes away from the tiny, thick curls that lay clustered at the nape of his neck. 'S-sorry, what did you say?'

  'Don't think that either John or I will be sitting out front with our illustrious guests worrying about you, because we won't be.' He thrust himself out and pulled her case after him. Liz, feeling smaller in her pumps, had to run to keep up with his long stride. The stage door slammed behind them, Adam collected some messages left at the desk and then they were off again, down the corridor, until they came to the door leading to the stage.

  'Thanks for the lift,' she said, slightly out of breath.

  'You look ridiculously young in that get-up,' he commented, frowning, and Liz wondered whether he was having second thoughts about her capabilities, but it was too late now, he was stuck with her. 'Good luck, Elizabeth,' he added abruptly, placing his hand on her shoulder for a moment, then with a quick smile, he carried on down the corridor and Liz watched him out of sight. Coming out of her reverie, she realised she was wasting time and went through the door.

  The air of purposefulness inside the theatre enveloped Liz like a comfortable old coat. Now that the time had at last arrived for positive action, all the tension of the previous two hours drained away and her training took over.

  'Thirty minutes, please, thirty minutes to curtain-up,' she relayed calmly over the tannoy, imagining the preparations and tensions in the dressing rooms. She stood in the wings with the rest of the crew, listening to the auditorium filling up; the murmur of voices, the clatter of seats, an occasional laugh, epitomising the excited, eager anticipation of the evening's entertainment.

  'Fifteen minutes to go… fifteen minutes!'

  Liz found herself re-checking the stage and catching Andy's eye, grinned. Sam arrived holding a tray of drinks which he offered round and they silently toasted each other, the close affinity of her fellow workers making Liz feel good. She felt someone squeeze her arm and it was John, smiling at her.

  'Good luck, Liz,' and she smiled back. Jane whispered: 'I've just had a peep at the audience, they do look nice, they've dressed up for us. And you should see Adam—he's just gone into the dressing rooms and he looks gorgeous.'

  Martin loomed up, looking even more enormous in large boots and vivid costume, his plumed hat set at a jaunty angle.

  'Best of luck, Lizzie darling,' he said, giving her a bear hug and a hearty kiss.

  'Thanks, and to you too, Martin,' she managed.

  Adam Carlyon appeared out of the semi-darkness, looked at the clock, smiled all round and with an 'All the best, everyone,' disappeared as quickly as he had come. Liz also looked at the clock and taking a deep breath said:

  'Beginners, act one, please. Lucentio, Baptista, Katharina, Bianca…' One by one, the players acknowledged their presence in the wings by a touch of the arm or a wave of the hand and Andrew ticked them off his list. Seven-twenty-eight and everyone was waiting, silent and tense. Liz nervously cleared her throat.

  'House lights, music fade, intro music cue.' She listened intently as the audience quietened into an expectant hush.

  'Lights, curtain, music fade,' she ordered tersely, and the brightly coloured 'street in Padua' was revealed, the superb visual effect being acknowledged by applause from the audience. Liz looked across the stage into the ops wings. The actor taking the part of Lucentio was staring at her, frowning intently. The footlights reached maximum, the music faded completely and the frown disappeared, to be replaced by the smiling face of Lucentio, late of Pisa, who briskly stepped out into the Street of Padua to seek his fortune. The first performance ever at the new Queensbridge Civic Theatre had begun.

  The next two and a half hours passed in a state of automation. Not until she heard Louise making her final speech did Liz allow herself to relax slightly. The theatre was very quiet as Louise's lovely voice projected over the footlights.

  ' "I am ashamed that women are so simple to offer war where they should kneel for peace; or seek for rule, supremacy and sway, when they are bound to serve, love and obey." '

  Liz stopped listening to Kate, who would never have been elected on to a Women's Lib committee, and concentrated on giving the lighting and sound their cues. As the last words rang out Liz gave a triumphant 'curtain, please', the music swelled to a crescendo followed by a spontaneous burst of applause. The curtain rose and the cast took their well deserved bow. Three more curtains and then the players swept off the stage in a whirl of Elizabethan finery, giving hugs, kisses and backslappings to anyone who was near. Liz was grabbed and kissed amongst a tangle of bodies and then they were gone in a babble of noisy chatter and the backstage crew were left grin
ning idiotically at each other. Liz methodically set the stage for the following evening's performance, checked that everything was switched off and hurried out, to be met down the corridor by an excited Val.

  'Liz, I thought you were never coming. Your dress is ready.'

  'Thanks, Val, I'd almost forgotten about the reception! I'll just have a quick shower, I won't be long.'

  On her return, Liz said cheerfully: 'Those showers are a luxury. I always get so dusty backstage. Oh, Val, you do look nice.'

  'Thank you. Shall I do your hair?' Val asked. 'It will be easier now that you've let it grow a little. Look, if I backcomb the crown slightly and let the rest hang loose, these side pieces curve nicely under your chin. There, how's that?'

  Liz studied herself solemnly in the mirror, tilting her head from side to side.

  'It looks and feels… chic! Heavens, I'm slightly heady! I've just realised I didn't eat much at tea, I was so nervous.'

  'You'll have to go steady on the wine,' warned Val, 'at least, until you've eaten. Anything more I can do?'

  'No, thanks, Val, you go off now. Is Sam taking you?'

  'Yes. Are you sure you won't come with us?'

  'Quite sure,' Liz said firmly, determined not to intrude. 'Everything's organised. Now off you go,' she repeated, and Val gave her a hug, grabbed her coat and hurried out.

  Liz finished getting ready, wondering what to do for the best. The rest of the theatre seemed to be very quiet, she was probably one of the last. Adam had not mentioned anything about getting there. It was not far, but she would rather not have to walk and she certainly was not going to find him and beg a lift. Perhaps she ought to get a taxi. Gazing critically at herself, Liz felt excitement beginning to creep over her. The performance had been a personal triumph and there was nothing like success to bring a sparkle to the eyes and a glow to the cheeks. Not bad, Lizzie girl, she thought, not bad at all. The time has come to give life a whirl. She pirouetted in front of the mirror and then stopped, thrown into sudden confusion. Adam Carlyon was leaning against the door and how long he had been there she did not know. He was smiling slightly and Liz caught her breath.