She laughed, but she thought, 'I suppose he is! With those good looks and that vitality—^and everything.'
And she was smiling so radiantly when she came into the house that Aunt Hilda said, 'Have you found another diamond ring? You look just as though you have.'
*Not quite. Aunt Hilda. But I sang for Ken— for my boss—this evening, at Sir Oscar's studio, and they were both very pleased and complimentary. It made me feel good.'
'I expect it did,' was the quite kind reply. *But don't get a swelled head, dear. It's hard coming down to earth with a bang.'
Caroline agreed that it was, and then caught up a telegram from the mantelpiece, exclaiming, 'Is this from Jeremy?'
'Yes. I was just going to tell you. He's coming home on Wednesday, and—you'll see—he's got that contract he was hoping for.'
'Oh, Aunt Hilda! You must be proud of him. I know I am.'
Aunt Hilda said modestly that she was not counting on too much yet but that yes, she was proud of him.
Between then and Jeremy's arrival Caroline alternated between happiness on his behalf and her own, and the realisation that now she must at last admit to her proposed entry for the Carruthers Contest. Perhaps he would not feel so badly about it now that he had his foot on the ladder. But nothing, she supposed, nothing could sweeten the fact that she would be challenging him directly in the contest on which he and Lucille were counting so much.
'I'll just have to trust to the inspiration of the moment,' Caroline told herself, knowing perfectly well that moments of that kind provided few inspirations.
But when Jeremy finally arrived, the sheer pleasure of seeing him so happy, so sure of himself at last after all the disappointments and
setbacks, swept away every other consideration. It was like old times when he hugged and kissed her as well as his mother, and said how much he had missed them both in spite of having had such a thrilling time in Germany.
'You must tell us all about your triumphs,' Aunt Hilda said.
To which he replied, very truly, that one did not exactly have triumphs in smallish roles, but that the opera director had been emphatic about wanting him back. In addition, he had received tentative offers from other small opera houses, which had resulted in the offer from his original house being substantially increased.
*The only snag is that I have to go back almost inmiediately, and I hate leaving you again so soon. But it's the best of all possible causes, so I can't complain.'
*But what about ' Caroline could hardly get
out the words'—^what about the Carruthers Contest, Jerry? It's coming up soon.'
'Yes, I know. But I'll just have to pass it up this year. Maybe next year. We'll see what I'm doing then.'
'You mean ' Caroline was suddenly radiant
and her voice shook'— that you're not going in for it, after all?'
'That's what I mean.'
'Oh, Jerry, the relief! I've been feeling so awful, because I'm going in for it myself, and the thought of pitting myself against you, of all people, made me feel so mean, so disloyal. And now—you really mean it?—I can go in with a clear conscience?'
'You certainly can, you bold, bad girl.' He
ruffled her hair affectionately. *But aren't you pitching your hopes a bit high? It's a very stiff contest, you know. Not really for amateurs at all.'
'I know,' said Caroline humbly. 'But Sir Oscar thinks I should try. At least, not quite that,' she amended, feeling she was certainly taking Sir Oscar's name in vain. 'He said I could if I really wanted to.'
'Silly girl, isn't she?' commented Aimt Hilda almost indulgently, and she actually went into the kitchen to make a personal inspection of the supper which was cooking.
'Jeremy,' Caroline said, recalling something vital, 'what does Lucille think about your cancelling? She was so keen for you to go in, wasn't she? You and she were counting such a lot on——'
'That's over.' Jeremy's expression was suddenly grim.
'What's over?' She stared at him.
'Any joint plans between me and Lucille.'
'Oh, Jerry, I'm so sorry! That is—has it spoiled things for you? You seemed so happy, so '
'No,' Jeremy replied deliberately. 'I'm simply not going to let it spoil things, as you say. I'm on the up and up, Caroline, and no one is going to spoil that for me. Certainly not a little go-getter lie Lucille. The truth is that she wanted much bigger fish than I was. I was just a bit of fun while she went after something bigger. She got him, incidentally,' he added reflectively.
'What do you mean?'
'I came through Paris on my way home and made it my business to see her and fiiid out what she was really up to. She couldn't have been more off-brushing '
'Oh, Jerry, I'm truly sorry.'
*Don't pity me. Pity the other chap,' Jeremy said heartily, *I'm sorry for him. He deserved better than that. I know, for I've got to appreciate him after all he's done for me.'
*What are you talking about?' Caroline suddenly got to her feet, her mouth and throat so dry that she thought she would choke. *Who— who is the man who supplanted you?'
'Well, I'm just telling you. Kennedy Marshall. She told me about it in our revealing interview and showed me the ring he'd just given her, poor dupe. Why, Carrie, what's the matter? Are you feeling faint or something?'
CHAPTER SEVEN
*Is something the matter?' asked Jeremy again. But Caroline just shook her head and then managed after a moment to force out a few words.
'No, nothing's the matter/ she said tonelessly. For not even to herself could she find any reason for the sense of utter desolation which had suddenly overwhelmed her.
'You don't like Lucille, do you?' He glanced at her curiously.
*I hardly know her.' Caroline was beginning to recover her self-possession. 'But what I know I don't like. Candidly, I'm glad to hear that you and she are no longer friendly.'
Aimt Hilda came back into the room at that moment and asked, *Who is no longer friendly with Jeremy?'
'Lucille Duparc. She's—friendly with Kennedy Marshall instead.' Caroline hardly knew why she added that, but she managed to laugh as though she found the quick-change situation rather amusing.
'Well, he ought to be able to manage her,' said Aunt Hilda philosophically. 'He's literally been her manager for some time, hasn't he?'
'Professionally, yes.' Caroline wondered desperately how they could get off this subject. But Aimt Hilda soon came unknowingly to the rescue. Jeremy and his affairs were the only
topics which could hold her interest that evening, and if Caroline contributed little to the conversation no one seemed to notice.
By a supreme effort she contrived to keep the thought of Ken and Lucille in the background of her mind. *ril think about it later,' she told herself. *ril think about it later.'
And much later, in the blessed privacy of her own room, she did exactly that, bringing from the recesses of her consciousness the stunning fact that Ken was now engaged to Lucille Duparc. That Jeremy had in the process escaped seemed oddly imimportant.
Two months ago that would in itself have been enough to make her happy beyond expression, she thought, and she wondered bewilderedly what had come over her. She loved Jeremy still and could only rejoice that he had escaped from the Lucille entanglement almost unhurt. But—Ken!
She told herself that she was disappointed in him—that she would have expected him to show more sense and judgment. But that seemed a poor reason for the sense of shock and near despair which she was experiencing. She knew now of course that he was a man of generosity and sensibility, and how could such a man be happy with Lucille?
*I should hate him to be imhappy,' she thought. 'He's been so good to me in many ways. I like him and '
Then she stared across at her reflection in the mirror, as she had done on another occasion when she faced the truth about herself.
'Don't be a fool,' she said aloud. 'You love him.' And burying her face in her hands, she
allowed th
e overwhelming truth to wash over her like a tidal wave.
That was not the end of her self-communing. Painstakingly she went back over the last few months, trying to find the moment when her relationship with him had undergone this drastic change. But, of course, like all big changes in relationships, it had been a gradual process, culminating in the shock of discovering that he was the generous patron providing the wherewithal for her to follow her heart's desire and strive to become a singer.
Was that before or after the first time he kissed her? she asked herself irrelevantly. Or perhaps, she decided, it was not exactly irrelevant. For that moment was etched on her memory now with a poignancy which hurt—and it had been before she knew of his extraordinary generosity.
When she reached even farther back into her recollections she could not remember any time when she had found him without interest. Not when she feuded with him over Jeremy, nor when she had staggered him with the accusation that he was a mean bully to threaten her with dismissal. She remembered those scenes, not in the monotone of idle recollection, but in the brilliant colours of flashing and exciting conflict.
*I think that was the first time he really took my measure as an individual,' she reflected with a faint smile. 'That was the moment when we broke the mould of secretary and boss. And ever after that '
She broke off suddenly in imbearable distress, for he was engaged to Lucille now and she herself was nothing in his life.
Nothing? She got up and walked softly up and down the room. Nothing?
*But Fm the girl he thinks might develop into a successful singer—a fine artist. He's backed me to do so, and I'll do it! I will, I will! I'll challenge Lucille on her own ground. She shall not have him.'
Caroline did not glance at herself in the mirror again. Had she done so she would have seen someone who in every line and feature commanded the stage. That the stage was no more than her own bedroom in Aunt Hilda's house was immaterial. The centre of that stage was hers by right of an iron determination and a total belief in herself.
Inevitably this mood of high courage and determination wavered in the light of day, but some of it remained, to inform Caroline's thoughts and actions—and development.
This did not go unnoticed, and later that day she overheard Aunt Hilda say to Jeremy, 'Caroline is tending to give herself airs, I'm afraid. She really thinks she is going to be a great singer. It's rather pathetic really, isn't it?'
'No,' was Jeremy's reply. 'It will only be pathetic if she fails. We all have to have the inner conviction that we're something special. But I wish she were not going in for the Carruthers Contest. She can have no idea of the standard required, and I'm afraid she may be in for a shock.'
'I suppose a lot of hopefuls go in for it?' Aunt Hilda sounded no more than mildly interested, but Caroline listened eagerly—and shamelessly— for Jeremy's reply.
'Well, it varies from year to year, but seldom attracts less than about eighty, I imagine. The first prize is three thousand pounds, which is not to be sneezed at, and even the lesser ones are quite useful sums. Of course a lot of the competitors get sorted out in the preliminaries, but some pretty good material survives for the semi-finals and finals.'
'If by some extraordinary chance Caroline gets as far as that I expect I shall watch on television,' said Aunt Hilda thoughtfully. 'Unless it's more than my nerves will stand.'
'If she reached the finals,' replied Jeremy, obviously speaking more or less in joke, 'you could go to the actual performance. It will be open to the public, and I'm sure there would be reserved seats for relatives and friends.'
'Oh, I couldn't do that,' declared Aunt Hilda seriously. 'That would be more than my nerves could take.'
Fortunately years with Aunt Hilda had armoured Caroline against feelings of hurt and pride. But she was glad when, the next day at the office, Dinah referred to a TV announcement about the impending Contest and said admiringly, 'I felt proud to know someone who was actually going in. You are going in, aren't you?'
'Oh, yes. I'm quite determined about that. For several reasons,' Caroline added, half to herself, which made Dinah cock an interested glance at her and ask,
'What does Mr Marshall think about it?'
'I don't know that he's specially interested,' replied Caroline most untruthfully.
'Oh, he must be! Imagine someone in his own
office making a splash like that. I mean if you scooped up one of the prizes. He'd offer himself as your agent on the spot—and you'd just have to accept, wouldn't you?'
'I might not,' said Caroline, thinking of Lucille. *He already has a number of sopranos on his list.'
'But ' Dinah's jaw dropped slightly*—^you
couldn't have a better agent, and he'd be bound to give you special treatment. As a matter of fact, I've sometimes thought he's a bit keen on you. Haven't you?'
'No, I have not.' Caroline's tone was emphatic.
'Which is just as well ' she managed a slight
laugh'—because I've heard rumours that he's either engaged or about to be.'
'Oh, too bad,' declared Dinah cheerfully. 'Bang goes another romantic dream!' And she turned back to her typewriter, while Caroline swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat.
Ken came back the following day, but she managed to be out of the office for tiie day—in the morning at the Opera Studio and later with Sir Oscar.
'Here are the particulars about your precious Carruthers Contest and your entry form,' said Warrender, handing over a sheaf of papers. 'If not with my total approval, at least with my cordial good wishes.'
She examined them thoughtfully, then, without raising her head, she asked in a low voice, 'What are my chances. Sir Oscar?'
'I couldn't even hazard a guess,' was the reply. 'There are too many varying factors involved. For one thing, we don't yet know who the judges
will be. Oh, reputable, of course, and distinguished in their own field, no doubt. But even in 5ie higher reaches of our profession different people are looking for different qualities.'
*How do you mean?'
*Well, academics are, quite legitimately, looking for academic excellence. Old professionals like myself look for something more original, more personally and musically arresting. While the occasional patron or official or what-have-you is entitled to back his or her own fancy, within the terms of reference.'
'I wish you were on the jury,' said Caroline with a sigh.
*If I were, either you or I would have to withdraw,' he assured her. 'It wouldn't be ethical, you know, for one of the judges to have had a hand in training one of the competitors.'
'I hadn't thought of that!' She looked taken aback. 'But if you were on the jury. Sir Oscar, what sort of rating would you give me?'
'Without an opportunity to assess the other competitors, how can I tell?'
She thought that was all he was prepared to say. But he went on slowly, 'In my view, however, the winners of the first three prizes are going to have to be very good indeed to displace you.'
'Thank you!' She smiled brilliantly. Though she added obstinately, 'But it has to be the first prize.'
'If it's any help to you, I've heard that one of the judges may well be Enid Mountjoy, and she will certainly be looking for what I would describe as the right things. She's no longer
young, but her judgment is excellent,' he stated authoritatively. 'She was responsible for quite a lot of Anthea's training, incidentally.'
'By your arrangement?' Caroline asked interestedly.
'By my arrangement,' he confirmed, and somehow that was very cheering.
The next day she went to the office dreading the first meeting with Ken. If he were to impart to her the news of his engagement in some offhand manner she hardly knew how she could take it with decent composure. But she was not put to the test. Apparently his private affairs were not for discussion between them.
He breezed into the office, full of information about some successful contracts, but also, it seemed, very willing for fur
ther discussion about the evening in Warrender's studio when he had heard her sing.
'My critical godmother is going to be very gratified when she hears you and realises she's backed a winner,' he informed her with a mischievous smile, and she suddenly wanted to hit him for continuing the masquerade with such gusto.
'Do you think so?' Her tone was cool.
'Yes. Don't you?'
'I hope so—^naturally,' she replied indifferently, and went over to the filing cabinet so that she could turn her back on him.
'What's the matter?' His voice changed suddenly. 'And don't say "Nothing",' he added irritably before she could.
'What would you like me to say, then?' She had never spoken to him in that tone before, and
she could feel the cloud of astonishment behind her.
*Tum round and look at me,' he said quietly, and when she took no notice she heard him get up and cross the room. The next moment he had swung her round to face him and, shifting his grip, he held her by her upper arms so that she was almost against him.
'What's this charade in aid of?' he asked, and for the first time she was surprisedly aware of a note of brutality in his voice.
'I don't know what you're talking about!' and her voice shook with anger and pain as she tried, unavailingly, to escape from his grip. 'Let go of me, please. I don't like employers who take liberties.'
'Liberties? Good God, girl, you don't know what the word means! But if you want to
know ' and before she could stop him, he
bent his head and kissed her hard on her angry mouth with a sort of brutal deliberation which made her gasp.
*You—skunk! I suppose you think that spending a fortune on me without my knowledge entitles you to maul me?'
He fell away from her as though she had literally struck him.
'So that's the trouble? You've found out I'm paying for your training.'
It was as good a way out as any, she supposed, with her heart like lead. She had so nearly betrayed her fury and misery over Lucille's conquest. Better a thousand times that he should think she resented his spending money on her and keeping her in ignorance of the fact.
Warrender 13: On Wings of Song Page 12
