'I'm ready,' he replied coolly, and reached for his coat.
Only then did Michele bother to register Nicola's presence with the most casual of glances and an abrupt inquiry if she had heard the rehearsal.
'Yes. I thought it went well.' Nicola too spoke with great coolness. Then something in the other girl's off-brushing air stung her into the desire to assert herself. Without thinking of the eventual consequences, she smiled full at the conductor and said with almost intimate friendliness,
'Good-bye, Julian. I'm glad I came. I'll be wishing you luck until the first night—and after.'
Then she took herself off, aware that she had left two much astonished people behind her.
She had never spoken to Julian like that before. Never even called him by his first name, come to that. But though she was surprised and vexed at her own ill-judgment, a sort of elation possessed her as she ran down the stone stairs and along to her aunt's dressing-room once more.
'Well?' Torelli gave her an amused glance as she came in. 'Was he pleased?'
'I think so,' Nicola said, and smiled to herself.
'You think so? Didn't he say so?'
'He kissed me,' said Nicola unexpectedly, because somehow she had to tell someone.
'Oh, come! That's as good a comment as any,' declared Torelli, laughing. 'You see? I was right to send you.'
And although Nicola still doubted the wisdom of that, she was in no mood to argue about something which had given her such pleasure. A pleasure which was none the less intense for the forbidden quality about it.
Torelli, on her side, was so happy about the impending reunion with her husband that she even took in her stride another family reunion which might not otherwise have pleased her so much. That afternoon, to Nicola's surprise, her mother telephoned to say that she and Nicola's father were coming to London for a few days.
'And we look forward to seeing a great deal of you, darling,' Mrs. Denby finished.
'Oh, Mother!' Nicola was divided between doubt and pleasure. 'It's the first night of "The Magic Flute" on Friday!'
'Is it really, dear? Then perhaps you should get tickets for us. Who is in it?'
'Why, Gina, of course!' Nicola was shocked that anyone could be unaware of the fact. 'And Julian Evett is conducting for the first time at Covent Garden. It's going to be a terrific occasion.'
'Well then, of course we must go!' declared Mrs. Denby with the cheerful confidence of one who knew nothing of the facts of box office life. 'Will you see after the tickets, dear?'
'I will if I can. They're like gold-dust, you know.'
'But surely if your aunt is in it—?'
Nicola winced slightly at this easy family way of referring to the great Torelli.
'I'll do my very, very best, Mother, and of course it will be simply wonderful to have you there. But I'll be pretty busy beforehand. There's the dress rehearsal the day after tomorrow, and then Uncle Peter is coming home. I doubt if I'll have much free time.'
'But there are the evenings!' The surprised disappointment in her mother's voice stopped Nicola from trying to explain the reasonable and unreasonable demands to which she gladly submitted before a first night.
Instead she just said that she would do everything she could to get away as often as possible. And then, as Mrs. Denby rang off, Torelli came into the room.
'Who was that?' she wanted to know.
In some trepidation, Nicola explained. At which the unpredictable Torelli cried, 'How delightful! They can share the box with Peter. Quite a family occasion, and so nice for the two brothers to meet again.'
'Yes, it will be, won't it?' A good deal relieved, Nicola smiled, and then diffidently broached the matter of perhaps having a little time off before the great night on Friday.
'But of course, my dear! When did you say they were coming? Tomorrow? Then you had better go home to your flat this evening and be ready for them. I can manage without you for a day or two. Unless I telephone you, consider yourself free until the actual performance.'
'Miss the dress rehearsal, you mean?' cried Nicola in absolute horror.
'Yes, yes. Dear child, you don't suppose I can't tackle a dress rehearsal without your presence, do you?' exclaimed her aunt impatiently. 'I've done enough of them in my time, and Lisette will be there to see to everything.'
'But—' she fought desperately for that rehearsal which meant so much to her—'I thought, I hoped I gave you some sort of support.'
'You do, darling.' Torelli laughed and kissed her not unkindly. 'But Peter will be home the next day. And your parents do come first, don't they?' She was enjoying her self-sacrificing role and no one was going to do her out of it. 'Give them my affectionate greetings, and say I look forward to seeing them after the performance. After all, it isn't a tremendously demanding role. Provided, of course,' she added with satisfaction, 'one has the right vocal equipment for it.'
There was absolutely nothing to add to the discussion after that. Nicola was as free as air to enjoy her parents' visit to the full. And she was miserable and frustrated at having her chains struck off.
She knew she was being ungrateful and ridiculous. What did it matter whether she were at that dress rehearsal or not? Julian was going to be much too busy to notice her presence or absence. And, even if not, the point was a completely unimportant one. He was nothing to her. Or, more accurately, she was nothing to him.
She started to remind herself again that it was Michele who was the girl in his life, and then the expression suddenly struck her as so silly that she rejected it. What did it mean? Was he in love with Michele? He certainly seemed to take it for granted that they would share each other's company outside the theatre. The way they had been going off to lunch together had almost the air of a foregone conclusion about it.
But even that was really no business of hers. Julian was no business of hers. The part he had played in Brian's death precluded that. She started to go over those facts again. And suddenly they seemed stale and irrelevant.
They had not changed. He was still morally responsible for Brian's death. But she had gone over it all once too often, deliberately whipping up her anger and resentment, and now her heart was no longer in it. Deep down in another part of her consciousness she knew that what was far more important was the fact that from the first moment she met Julian Evett he had fascinated her beyond her power to resist.
Fight as she might, that fact remained. And that was why it seemed disastrous to her that she had to miss the dress rehearsal. Everything about his first great chance at Covent Garden was important to her. Not just the first night itself, but everything which led up to it. Torelli might play the self-sacrificing role with all the fervour at her command. It was really Nicola who was doing the self-sacrificing.
When she finally met her parents the next day, she was ashamed of course to think that she had ever looked on their coming with anything but joy. They were so delighted to see her, and she to see them. And both exclaimed immediately on the fact that she looked so much better than when they had last seen her.
'Dancing attendance on a prima donna seems to suit you,' observed her father amusedly. While her mother kissed her a second time and said,
'You look so different, darling! I was quite worried about you last time you came to see us. You seemed so peaky and spiritless. When your father urged you to take on this job with your aunt I thought it was a mistake. Artists are so notoriously self-centred and demanding. But she must be quite different from the general run.'
Nothing, Nicola knew, could be more self-centred or demanding than Torelli at times. But if she admitted as much it would then be quite impossible to make her mother understand that there were other, fascinatingly contradictory qualities there too. In Mrs. Denby's reckoning people were either nice or nasty, and anything as complex as the Torelli phenomenon would be outside her kind but conventional powers of assessment.
So Nicola merely laughed and said she had never had a more interesting, stimu
lating job—which was true—and then she hugged both her parents afresh and tried to sink all other considerations in the sheer pleasure of having them with her.
In this she succeeded very well, until it came to Wednesday, when she knew that the dress rehearsal would be in progress. Then, although she was outwardly enjoying a shopping expedition with her parents, her heart and most of her thoughts were at Covent Garden, and she longed inexpressibly to know exactly what was happening there.
Late in the afternoon, having seen her mother and father back to their hotel, she rushed home to her own flat and allowed herself the indulgence of telephoning to her aunt. But it was Lisette who replied, informing her repressively that Madame was resting now after a very tiring morning.
'Did everything go all right, Lisette?' Nicola inquired eagerly.
'Madame seemed satisfied,' replied Lisette. And with this Nicola also had to be satisfied, for Lisette replaced her receiver before any more questions could be asked.
She was still fretting impatiently for news when her mother telephoned and said, 'Your father thinks it would be nice to dine out somewhere special this evening. We want to celebrate having you to ourselves, dear, before we all become involved in Peter's return and Gina's first night. We wondered—what about the Gloria? Wasn't that the place where Gina had that glamorous supper-party after her concert?'
'Yes, it was!' It was also, of course, the place where Julian had taken her to dinner that first evening, and where, so far as she knew, he was still staying. 'It's a wonderful idea, Mother! Tell Dad there's nothing I'd love more.'
'Or, alternatively, of course—'
'Oh, no! No alternative,' cried Nicola. 'Please let it be the Gloria.'
'All right, dear. We might go to a theatre afterwards. Wear something nice and we'll all be festive.'
'I will,' Nicola promised, and as soon as she had rung off, she rushed to survey her fairly modest wardrobe. She changed her mind three times. But in the end she chose the dress she had worn when she dined with Julian. And judging by the approving smile Dr. Denby gave her when she arrived, she had chosen well.
Her mother, who was reading an evening paper, looked up and said more specifically, 'Very, very charming, dear!' and then—'I thought you said Oscar Warrender was conducting on Friday.'
'Oh, no, Mother! Julian Evett. It's his first time at the Garden. That's why it's so exciting. He's wonderful. You'll hear for yourself.'
'He's a good-looking fellow, anyway. There's a photograph of him here—'
'Where?' Nicola came quickly to her side, to study the excellent photograph of Julian coming out of the stage door after rehearsal, with Michele Laraut.
'Pretty girl with him,' observed Mrs. Denby.
'Yes. That's Michele Laraut.' Nicola's tone was noticeably less enthusiastic. 'She's singing the Pamina.'
'Are they the two who are married?' her mother inquired.
'No, Mother! Certainly not.'
'Oh, no—I remember now. Of course it's Oscar Warrender who is married to a singer, isn't it? One gets these people mixed when they're only names, I'm afraid.'
Nicola swallowed and was dumb with astonishment For how could anyone, in any circumstances whatever, confuse Julian and Oscar Warrender?
'Shall we go?' suggested Dr. Denby, who had a nice instinct for the moment when one should change conversational course. So they went.
When they arrived at the Gloria the big grill-room was already more than two-thirds full. But Dr. Denby had reserved a table in one of the wide window bays.
'You sit where you can have the view across the Park, Nicola dear,' said Mrs. Denby generously. 'I'm going to sit and face the room and be a happy provincial, frankly celebrity-spotting.—Oh, I know that face! I can't think of the name, but I know the face perfectly. I'll get it in a minute—'
Within five minutes she had the pleasure of identifying two television personalities and one famous writer. But then her husband recalled her to the more serious business of choosing the meal, and it was some while before she could resume her pleasant occupation.
'I think that's the pretty girl who was with that conductor in the photograph,' she said suddenly. 'Don't turn for a moment. She's looking this way. You said she was Michele Somebody. Has she got red hair?'
'Yes, she has.' And, in spite of her mother's warning, Nicola turned and looked across the room, to acknowledge Michele's not very friendly stare with a cool little smile and nod.
At the same time her mother exclaimed, 'Oh, here comes the conductor himself. Why, he's even better-looking than in the photograph. He's looking round. I suppose for his red-haired friend.—No! He's nodded to her but isn't joining her. He's coming this way.—Why, how funny! I believe he's coming straight for this table.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
As Julian came level with their table, Nicola turned and smiled up at him with a sort of nervous eagerness she could not entirely contain. But before she could even open her lips to ask about the morning's rehearsal he said almost curtly,
'I missed you at the dress rehearsal. Were you there?'
'No. I'm having some days off because my mother and father are in London. Would you like to meet them?'
Only then did he seem to become fully aware of anyone else at the table. But he accepted the introduction with a gravely courteous smile before which Mrs. Denby at any rate blossomed.
'How did it go this morning?' Nicola got her inquiry in then.
'Very well. It's a fine, well-integrated cast, and everyone is full of enthusiasm. Torelli, of course, is terrific'
'Nicola says you are a marvellous conductor too,' observed Mrs. Denby with such naïve candour that Julian's glance lingered on her kindly for a moment before he said,
'Nicola is too kind. I hope you will be there on Friday to judge for yourselves?'
'Oh, yes, indeed we shall,' Mrs. Denby assured him. 'My husband is Madame Torelli's brother-in-law, you know. We shall be having quite a family reunion, as it happens. Peter Denby—Madame Torelli's husband—will be back in London by then—'
'He is back already,' Julian told her. 'He arrived just after the dress rehearsal this morning.'
'Did he?' cried Nicola. 'Lisette is the limit! She never told me when I phoned. Oh, how happy Gina must be.'
'Yes, I think she is.' The conductor smiled slightly again. Then, as there was a stir at the entrance to the restaurant, he glanced across and said, 'This seems to be a popular meeting place tonight. Here are Madame Torelli and her husband.'
Nicola turned round fully while her parents craned their necks to see better. As they did so, Torelli caught sight of them, waved with something between cordiality and regality, and immediately made for their table, followed by a tall, thin, heavily tanned man whom Nicola recognized as her Uncle Peter.
There was a tremendous flurry of greetings and introductions, during which Julian prepared to withdraw. But Torelli, looking more warmly radiant than Nicola could ever remember seeing her before, put a detaining hand on his arm.
'No, Julian dear, stay and join the family party. You are one of us after this morning's performance. I refuse to let you go and dine alone. Now, my dears—' with one comprehensive glance she gathered the slightly dazzled Mrs. Denby and the somewhat amused Doctor Denby into her general scheme of rearrangement—'we must have a table added here. Peter and you will have so much to say to each other!'
Recalling the extreme taciturnity of her uncle in earlier days, Nicola rather doubted if they would. But in any case she recognized the remark for what it was, a mere figure of speech. What Torelli meant was that she had a lot to say to everyone within what she now apparently quite willingly regarded as her family circle.
With a single gesture and no more than a few words from her uncle, Nicola was amused to see the head waiter and an assistant come running to do Torelli's bidding. The table was extended, the seating rearranged, and, before she knew what was happening, she found herself sitting between Julian and her uncle.
&n
bsp; Faintly overwhelmed by Julian's nearness, she turned first to her uncle, who said in his deep, abrupt but agreeable voice, 'Gina tells me you have been a great help to her.'
'I'm so glad if she thinks so! It's all been a marvellous experience for me. I really love her,' Nicola said frankly.
'So do I,' was the unexpected reply. 'Impossible, of course, but quite irresistible.'
And on this her uncle turned his attention to the menu, leaving Nicola to smother a laugh and turn to look at Julian who, with his head slightly inclined towards Torelli, was listening to what she had to say with an unmistakably indulgent smile.
'Do you agree with me?' Nicola heard her ask challengingly.
'Of course.'
'What do you mean—"of course"? I don't like people to agree with me just because they won't stand up to me and query my judgments,' declared Torelli quite incorrectly.
'My dear Madame! I merely meant that when you speak about singing there is no second opinion,' Julian replied. 'On that subject I am satisfied to have you pronounce. If I disagreed with you I should know it was I who was wrong.'
The singer looked at him and laughed, her wonderful dark eyes sparkling suddenly with real humour.
'You're learning fast,' she observed. 'You were resistant and more than a trifle arrogant at first. Now you know all the tactful phrases, don't you?'
'Those were not tactful phrases,' he assured her gravely. 'I was speaking from my heart.'
'I believe you were.' The laughing eyes were almost sombre again. 'You're a good boy, as I've said before. I told Nicola—she should marry you and keep you in the family.'
'And what,' asked Julian, ignoring the gasp from the other side of him, 'did Nicola have to say to that?'
'Oh, she became melodramatic about that unfortunate business in Canada.—Yes, you did, dear!' Torelli leant across Julian to speak to her niece, now that she saw she was listening. 'Very silly of you. There's a time to remember and a time to forget. Peter, are we starting with oysters, or aren't they in season? I always forget and an oyster is more temperamental than any prima donna, when you come to think of it. Chooses its own time—or poisons you.'
The Curtain Rises Page 13
