Stage Fright

by Christine Poulson

  ‘If Melissa doesn’t turn up soon, Kevin will just have to make proper arrangements for Agnes to be looked after.’

  ‘You don’t sound very sympathetic.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be all that surprised if it turned out that Melissa had had enough of Kevin. I’ve never really taken to him. It’s strange her leaving Agnes, though. That’s the bit I can’t understand.’

  ‘You don’t like him? You’ve never said.’

  ‘Well, Melissa’s your friend and anyway it wasn’t anything I could put my finger on. The guy’s always pleasant enough. Just one of those things. “I do not like thee, Doctor Fell, The reason why I cannot tell, But this I know and know full well, I do not like thee, Doctor Fell.”’

  ‘Masculine intuition?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘So how are you getting on?’

  ‘Oh, it’s great, just terrific. I’m getting on like a house on fire with Bob. In fact…’

  He hesitated.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Oh, well…’

  ‘Stephen! I know there’s something! Out with it!’

  ‘Oh, all right, but we can’t really discuss it over the phone. We’ll have to talk about it when I get back. The thing is: I’ve been offered a job.’

  ‘A job!’

  ‘It’s the clients out here. I think that’s part of the reason they got me over.’

  ‘Oh, what! You don’t need a job! You’ve got your own firm!’

  ‘Look, I’m not saying I want to take it, but it’s such a good offer, we have to at least consider it. Like I said, we can talk about it when I get back.’

  ‘And what about me and my job! I don’t want to move to Los Angeles!’

  ‘Look, I’ll have to go. I’m at work. I’ll ring you again tomorrow, OK?’

  * * *

  Low-lying mist drifted across the fields. The land between the Old Granary and Journey’s End could almost have been covered with water just as it had been for centuries before the fens were drained. The moon was higher now. It seemed strange that it could be so light and yet this was a world drained of colours. I drove to the cottage across a landscape of black and grey and silver, of silhouettes and shadows.

  Kevin was standing framed in the doorway. He came hurrying out across the gravel and opened my car door.

  ‘You’ve been a long time,’ were his first words.

  ‘Stephen rang,’ I said shortly.

  ‘Sorry: didn’t mean to sound – it’s just that I’m worried.’

  ‘Of course you are,’ I said, relenting. It wasn’t his fault that I was in a filthy mood.

  I got out of the car and opened the back door. The drive had done the trick. Grace was fast asleep. I unbuckled her and followed Kevin into the house. Something was not as I expected it to be. I looked round. Everything looked much as usual. Kevin must have tidied up. Then I realized what was missing.

  ‘I don’t hear Agnes crying,’ I said.

  Kevin looked surprised. ‘You’re right. That’s funny. She was still at it when you drove up.’

  ‘Let’s go up and have a look at her. I’ll leave Grace down here.’

  I put her on the sofa and Kevin helped me to fence her in with cushions. I took my bag up with me in case I needed the thermometer. In Agnes’s room the night-light cast a dim glow. Agnes was lying on her side with her thumb by her cheek as if it had been in her mouth and had fallen away when she fell asleep. I bent down into the cot and put a finger on her cheek. She didn’t seem to have a temperature and her breath was coming from her lips in even little puffs.

  ‘She seems fine,’ I said. ‘It’s hard to believe that there’s anything wrong with her.’

  ‘And yet she was yelling her head off only a few minutes ago.’

  ‘Hard to believe,’ I repeated, shaking my head. And no sooner were the words out of my mouth than I thought, perhaps it’s hard to believe because it isn’t true. This baby had surely been peacefully asleep for more than a few minutes. I looked at Kevin. He was standing at the bedroom door. Light was coming in from the landing, throwing his face into relief. The dark eyes looked darker than ever. His face was impassive, carefully blank, it suddenly seemed to me. The fens were stretching out in darkness all around us. There was no one else for miles. And who knew I was here? Stephen – yes, but Stephen was thousands of miles away, damn him. But if this had been a ruse to get me over here, then why…? Kevin took a step towards me. At that moment my mobile phone rang. Kevin paused. I pulled the phone out of my bag and answered it.

  ‘Cass?’

  ‘Stephen!’ I said.

  ‘Look, I was a bit abrupt earlier. Of course, there’s no question of us moving if you don’t want to—’

  ‘No, no, you’re right. We ought to talk about it at least. No harm in seeing what’s on the table.’ My eyes met Kevin’s.

  He turned away and switched on the main light.

  ‘That’s right,’ Stephen said. ‘Are you at the cottage?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I am, I’m with Kevin now.’

  ‘Is Agnes OK?’

  ‘I think so, yes.’

  ‘Oh. That’s good. D’you think I could have a word with Kevin?’

  I handed the phone over. From Kevin’s reactions I guessed that Stephen was commiserating with him. Then he frowned. ‘Well, if you think so,’ he said. ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re right. I’ll give you back to her, shall I?’

  He handed the phone over.

  ‘I’ve told Kevin not to let you overdo it.’

  ‘Oh, really!’ I felt a familiar flash of irritation, but I couldn’t be truly angry. I’d been so relieved to hear his voice.

  ‘Got to go. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Love you.’

  ‘Yeah, good. I mean, me too. ’Bye then.’

  Kevin was standing on the landing now, his back turned tactfully towards me. I joined him and we went down the stairs in silence. I was longing now to get away.

  Kevin said, ‘Don’t come into the theatre tomorrow. Stay at home. Have a rest.’

  ‘I’m sorry about Stephen. I’ll be OK, honestly,’ I said, rummaging about in my bag for my car keys.

  ‘No, Stephen’s right. And anyway, it’s the technical tomorrow. It’s not absolutely essential that you’re there.’

  ‘You’re sure? What about Agnes?’ The keys weren’t in my bag. What on earth had I done with them? I started patting my pockets.

  ‘I expect I can get Tilly to baby-sit again after the nursery closes,’ Kevin said.

  ‘I don’t know what I’ve done with my car keys.’ I looked round the sitting-room to see if I’d put them down somewhere.

  ‘Have you looked in there?’ Kevin pointed to the zipped compartment on the outside of my bag.

  ‘I don’t remember putting them in there but … Oh yes, here they are. These days I’d forget my head if it was loose.’

  I collected Grace and Kevin walked me to the door.

  ‘I’m really sorry I bothered you. I guess I overreacted,’ he said, his hand on the latch.

  I opened my mouth to reply but I didn’t get anything out, because overhead, as abruptly as if someone had pressed a switch, Agnes started to howl.

  Kevin winced. ‘Spoke too soon.’

  I’d never heard her make such a terrible noise before. It was gut-wrenching.

  ‘Is that what she was doing before?’

  He nodded. As we went up the stairs together, Grace stirred against my shoulder and whimpered, disturbed by the noise. We looked into the cot. Agnes’s face was red and creased and already glossy with tears. Her fists were clenched. I handed Grace to Kevin, and bent over into the cot.

  ‘Shush, shush,’ I murmured. I opened one of the little hands and stroked the palm. The fingers closed tightly round mine and the crying stopped. She lay there hiccuping and gazing up at me. I stroked her stomach with my other hand. Her eyes remained fixed on mine.

  ‘Is it colic?’ Kevin asked.

  ‘No. I don’t think it is. Grace had
it a month or two back. It wasn’t like this. They draw their legs up to their chest. Could she be hungry?’

  ‘I did try her on a bottle but she only had a little bit of it.’

  Agnes had started crying again and was lifting her arms imploringly to me.

  ‘Let’s try her again.’ I said. ‘Put Grace in the cot. With any luck she’ll stay asleep.’

  I picked Agnes up and we went down to the kitchen. I saw that Kevin had somehow found time to have the kitchen window boarded up.

  ‘It’s in the fridge. It’ll need warming up,’ Kevin said.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I said, handing Agnes to Kevin. ‘And I’ll make a cup of tea. Might help to keep me awake.’

  I got the bottle out of the fridge and put the kettle on. Kevin sat down at the table and tried to distract Agnes by joggling her up and down.

  ‘There should be some biscuits somewhere,’ he said. ‘Try that cupboard.’

  ‘This one?’ I opened a door on an array of packets and jars and reached for a tin that looked as if it might contain biscuits.

  He looked up from trying to entertain Agnes. It wasn’t working anyway, she was still sobbing away.

  He raised his voice to be heard over her. ‘No, no. That’s all our landlord’s stuff in there. They’re coming back in October. Next along. Yes, there’s a packet of digestives.’

  I got it out, sat down opposite Kevin and watched him handling his baby. What had I been thinking of? There was nothing sinister about this. I was so tired that I was losing my grip on reality. Kevin was just an anxious father, and no wonder, alone here with Agnes. As for how Agnes had looked earlier, well, I knew from my experience with Grace how quickly even a fractious baby could tall asleep.

  ‘Cass?’ There was a note of pleading in Kevin’s voice. ‘You would say, wouldn’t you, it you had any idea at all why Melissa’s left or where she’s gone?’

  ‘Of course I would. But honestly, Kevin, I don’t have a clue.’

  He said, ‘I just thought she might have confided in you.’ He looked as if he was about to cry.

  I shook my head. ‘I wish she had.’

  Agnes had stopping crying, and was trying to stick her hand in Kevin’s mouth. He took her hand away.

  ‘You know, looking back. I think perhaps she hadn’t been herself since the baby was born. I’m blaming myself for not taking more notice. I wasn’t always as attentive as I might have been. If I hadn’t been so busy with the play…’

  There were tears in his eyes. I felt tears of sympathy welling up in mine. I didn’t know what to say and, God, I was so tired. A wave of fatigue swept over me. I could have put my head on the table and fallen asleep right there and then.

  The kettle clicked off. I got up and moved around the kitchen in slow motion. Find jug, yes, water into jug, yes, bottle into jug … Agnes began bawling again. I held out my arms for her and Kevin handed her over. I gave her my finger to suck and for a little while there was silence. I leaned back against the work surface. The next moment Agnes was yelling again. My eyelids shot up and I realized that I had actually fallen asleep for a few seconds with the baby in my arms.

  ‘I’ve got to sit down,’ I said. ‘I’m falling asleep on my feet. Now I know how they felt in those dance marathons in the twenties.’

  Kevin shook out a few drops from the bottle on to the back of his hand. ‘It’s ready anyway,’ he said.

  I went into the sitting-room and sat down on the sofa with Agnes in the crook of my arm and offered her the bottle. Kevin sat down in a chair opposite. At first, the baby sucked greedily on the teat, but after a few moments she began to whimper. She pushed the bottle away and started to cry again, this time in a monotonous, hopeless wail, even more nerve-shredding than before. Upstairs Grace had woken up. She began to yell and the two shrill voices wove in and out of each other in a counterpoint of misery.

  I got up and put Agnes in Kevin’s arms.

  ‘Here, walk up and down with her. Maybe that’ll help.’

  I went upstairs. As soon as I lifted Grace out of the cot, she clutched me and nuzzled her face into my breast. She wanted feeding again. I looked round for somewhere to sit down. There was just the cot, a chest of drawers and a small table. I took her next door and sat on Kevin and Melissa’s bed. The noise downstairs broke off briefly. I unbuttoned my shirt and opened my bra. Grace latched on to my breast. I looked up to see Kevin standing in the doorway. Our eyes met and he looked away. Agnes was still crying, but as soon as she saw me, she stretched her arms out towards me.

  He said, ‘She wants her mother.’

  ‘Give her to me.’

  He hesitated. Then taking care not to look directly at me, he placed Agnes by my side. He turned and went downstairs.

  I offered Agnes my other breast. She latched on eagerly and started to suck.

  Silence settled over the house.

  Chapter Ten

  JOE leaned towards me and pressed his lips to mine. He drew back a little to allow me to respond. Without hesitating I kissed him back. The kiss was gentle and romantic, scarcely erotic at all. We were somewhere outdoors and it was sunny. I was floating in a haze of warmth and light. And now something wasn’t quite right. The light was too strong. I was wincing and blinking. A dazzling shaft of light had fallen over my face. I hadn’t quite closed the curtains the night before, that was the problem. I shifted my head on the pillow. I was in bed, and Joe had gone. I wanted to sink back into the dream, but it was too late. Where was I? Not at home. The light was coming from the wrong side. So where was I? At Stephen’s flat? At my mother’s? I even wondered if I was back in my old childhood home in York. Then the warmth and weight of Grace against my side reminded me that I was a mother myself now. There seemed to be something on the other side as well. Did I have two babies, then? It all came back to me. I was lying fully clothed on Melissa and Kevin’s bed. My shirt was undone, but someone – presumably Kevin – had covered me with the duvet and there was a baby tucked in on each side.

  I looked at the bedside clock. Seven o’clock. Amazing that they’d both slept through. Grace was making little snuffling noises, clenching and unclenching her fists. Agnes was still sound asleep. When I stroked her face, she didn’t stir. I disengaged myself from the pair of them and crawled down the middle of the bed. I pulled the curtains back and looked out of the window. It was another peerless August day.

  I had that clammy uncomfortable feeling that comes from sleeping in your clothes and I smelt of sweat and milk. When I ran my hands through my hair it felt sticky. I went into the bathroom, stripped to the waist and had a good wash. I eyed my dirty shirt with distaste. I really didn’t want to put it back on. Should I borrow one of Melissa’s? It didn’t seem quite right somehow, but borrowing one of Kevin’s would be even worse. I’d feel like someone in a Whitehall farce. Most of the shirts in her wardrobe were too small for me, but I picked out a baggy candy-striped one that did just fit. Under the circumstances I didn’t think Melissa would mind.

  Downstairs in the sitting-room, a dented pillow on the sofa told me where Kevin had spent the night. But where was he now? He wouldn’t have gone off to the theatre without letting me know. I looked out of the window in the front door. The hire car had gone. I was looking around for a note when I was startled by the phone ringing. I walked over to where it stood on the wooden chest next to the sculpture of the woman and child. I was reluctant to pick it up. I felt like an intruder alone here so early in the morning. Who’s been sleeping in my bed. Who’s been wearing my shirt? And now who’s answering my phone? But of course I had to do it. It might be news of Melissa – or even Melissa herself.

  ‘Hello,’ I said.

  ‘Hello? Who is that?’

  Just for a second, before I caught the slight Australian accent, I thought the woman who replied was Melissa, and my heart lurched.

  ‘This is Cassandra James. I’m one of Melissa’s friends.’

  ‘Oh, Cassandra. Melissa’s told me all about you. I’m Maire, her
sister. I’m ringing from Canberra?’ She spoke with that rising inflection that makes every statement sound like a question.

  ‘Oh, yes, hello.’

  ‘I’ve just got in from work. You’re ten hours behind us. I guess there’s no more news of Melissa or Kevin would have left a message on the machine?’

  ‘I’m afraid there isn’t, no.’ I heard a sound of a car crunching over the gravel outside.

  ‘Oh, my God, I just can’t tell you how worried I am. I just wish I could get on a flight today and come straight over. Guess I’ll do that if there’s no news soon. How’s Agnes? That poor kid’s on my mind the whole time.’

  There was the slamming of a car door.

  ‘Well, Kevin was worried about her last night. She was missing her mother. Anyway, I stayed to look after her.’

  ‘Bless you. You’ve a daughter the same age, is that right? Melissa mentioned that.’

  ‘Yes. Look,’ I said. ‘I know you must be terribly worried, but Stan and I – Stan’s the stage-manager – we’re keeping an eye on Agnes.’

  The front door swung open. Kevin appeared with a sheaf of newspapers in his hand.

  ‘Kevin’s just coming in if you want to speak to him. Hold on.’ I held out the receiver. ‘Melissa’s sister.’

  Kevin looked rough. His chin was dark with stubble and his hair was lank and stringy. He dumped the papers on the sofa and took the phone from me. A copy of the papers slithered to the floor. As I bent down to pick it up, a huge headline caught my eye. MISSING ACTRESS it screamed.

  Behind me, Kevin was saying: ‘It’s splashed all over the newspapers.’

  I sat down on the sofa and skimmed the article: ‘Missing since Wednesday … acclaimed classical actress … married to Kevin Kingleigh, star of Half-Way to Paradise … blonde 32-year-old … has abandoned six-month old Agnes.’ There was a highly coloured account of how I had broken into Journey’s End.

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, as soon as I hear anything myself,’ Kevin snapped. He put the phone down without saying goodbye. He turned to me. ‘Could do without her on my case.’

  I was surprised by the irritation in his voice.

  ‘She’s bound to he worried.’