Centre Stage

by Judy Nunn

  Over twenty years ago Julian had watched Alex exercise his power to such a degree that Maddy would have done anything he wanted. It was one of the principal observations upon which this very play was based. And now Alex was exercising the same power over Maddy’s daughter. His daughter.

  EDWIN

  Photos, Kat.

  EDWIN RUNS HIS FOREFINGER GENTLY DOWN HER OPEN—NECKED SHIRT AND BETWEEN HER BREASTS.

  Photos to tease me. And we take them in public places. You’d like to do that for me, wouldn’t you?

  The night in the Taylor Square hotel when Alex had told him about Jonathan Thomas and the photos was as clear in Julian’s mind as if it had been yesterday. And naturally, the photos had gone into the play.

  He watched as Alex gently ran his finger down Jenny’s T-shirt between her breasts. Even though they were working with scripts in hand, Alex was observing every necessary gesture to its fullest. In fact, he referred to the script so rarely that it was obvious he already knew it backwards.

  No, this can’t happen, Julian thought, as he saw Jenny’s reaction to the touch of Alex’s hand. This can’t happen. The play can’t take over.

  Normally, in the early days of rehearsal when actors went into a clinch and tried desperately to see around each other’s scripts and keep their reading glasses from clashing, Julian found it funny. Now, as Alex and Jenny started into the clinch, it wasn’t funny at all. It was ominous.

  ‘Hi, everyone.’ Julian stepped out from the doorway and tried to look as though nothing was wrong.

  Alex’s flash of irritation at being interrupted was quickly replaced by genuine relief when he saw who it was. ‘Julian! About time.’

  ‘Julian.’ Naomi kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry about your father. Did the flowers from the company arrive OK?’

  ‘Yes, thanks. It was very kind of everyone.’ Julian could read relief on Naomi’s face too and he knew he was definitely going to be the ham in the sandwich with these two. But that was the least of his worries at the moment.

  ‘This is Imogen. I believe you know her mother,’ Alex said.

  A quick glance at the two of them and Julian knew he’d been right—they had no idea.

  ‘Hello, Jenny.’ He embraced her warmly. ‘Where did the “Imogen” come from?’

  ‘It’s always been there. I just didn’t have an agent before.’ Jenny smiled. ‘It’s still Jenny to friends, except for Alex who seems stuck on Imogen.’ Julian wanted to recoil from the special look they shared.

  ‘How’s your mother? Does she know about your getting the role?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jenny nodded. ‘She’s arriving tomorrow morning. She didn’t seem all that thrilled for me but then we’ve been having so many clashes lately it’s hard to tell.’ She sighed.

  ‘Give me the flight details when we break and I’ll go out and meet her.’

  ‘Oh, terrific! Mum’d love that.’

  ‘Let’s call a fifteen-minute break now, shall we?’ Naomi suggested and she nodded to the assistant stage manager to line up coffee.

  Julian was halfway through being introduced to the stage manager and two of the other actors whom he hadn’t met, but that didn’t stop Alex from dragging him to one side out of earshot. Naomi knew full well that Alex was going to complain about her and hope to get Julian on side but she didn’t worry unduly. Let him get it off his chest, she thought. Then she’d have a talk with Julian herself and they could sort out a strategy. Naomi was a very reasonable woman and she just wanted to run a well-ordered ship.

  ‘She doesn’t understand Edwin,’ Alex muttered intensely. ‘She has to leave me alone; I have to be free to do this my way. His way. Edwin’s way.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with her.’ Julian turned aside to accept the coffee offered him by the assistant stage manager.

  ‘Don’t you see that—’ Alex pulled him back and the coffee spilt all over Julian’s bare forearm and down the front of his short-sleeved shirt. ‘Sorry,’ Alex said.

  The coffee scalded him and Julian’s arm was smarting as he mopped at himself with his handkerchief but Alex didn’t seem to notice. ‘Don’t you see that you and I are the only ones who truly know Edwin? She has to back off.’

  ‘I said I’ll have a word with her and I will, Alex,’ Julian answered firmly. ‘Now let me talk to the other actors.’ As he left Alex brooding in the corner of the room it occurred to Julian yet again that Alex was mad.

  Later, when they broke for lunch, Julian said as much to Naomi. He said it in a light-hearted fashion but he meant it. ‘There’s a touch of madness in the man, my darling, and he’s going through an identity crisis with Edwin. He’s not sure whether it’s him or the bloke I wrote.’

  ‘Well, you’re not wrong there,’ Naomi smiled.

  ‘No, I’m not.’ Julian dropped the banter. ‘A lot of this play is biographical, a lot of it’s drawn from my personal knowledge of Alex which spans over twenty years and …’ Julian shrugged helplessly, ‘he thinks he knows this character better than anyone. Including me. And he’s probably right.’

  ‘So what do I do?’ Naomi threw up her hands in frustration.

  ‘You leave him alone. You let him run with it.’

  Naomi looked doubtful; it could make for a very uneven production in her opinion.

  ‘This play’s about a megalomaniac,’ Julian continued as he read her misgivings, ‘and we’ve got a megalomaniac playing the central role. Why don’t we let him go for a while? We can always cut him back if it gets out of hand.’ Julian wasn’t too sure about the last bit but it seemed the right thing to say.

  At least it convinced Naomi. ‘Right,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll give it a go.’

  Ten o’clock the following morning found Julian waiting for Maddy outside the customs hall at the international airport.

  She saw him immediately and marched straight up to him. ‘Does Jenny know about Alex yet?’

  Julian shook his head. ‘No, she doesn’t.’

  ‘Then what the hell’s going on? How did it happen?’ Her eyes blazed with anger. ‘Why didn’t you do something?’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Julian protested. ‘Not until yesterday. I swear. If I’d known I would have stopped it.’

  She continued to glare balefully at him.

  He picked up her suitcases. ‘Come on,’ he said wearily. ‘It’s a long walk. I’m right over the other side of the carpark and it’s bloody hot outside.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Maddy was instantly contrite. Julian had to put down the suitcases while she hugged him. He hugged her back. ‘I was sorry to hear about your father,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded and picked up the suitcases again.

  ‘Can we go to your place and talk?’ Maddy asked.

  ‘Sure. Your mother might be upset though. Jenny said she was expecting you to come straight home from the airport. She was going to come and meet you herself apparently.’

  ‘No, she wasn’t. She only said that after you offered to pick me up.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘It’s a pretty good guess,’ Maddy laughed. ‘I know Helena. Come on, let’s go to Bondi. I’m dying to look at the ocean.’

  Maddy jogged back up the beach and threw herself down on her towel. God, that water was good! And the sun! And the waves! She still loved bodysurfing.

  And she loved Bondi, she thought, as she looked around at the deep bay with its rocky headlands and yellow-white sand. Bondi reminded her of NADA and her first taste of true freedom—NADA and Alex and Julian and those wonderful days.

  Suddenly she realised that thinking about Alex had ceased to frighten her. The knowledge that Alex and Jenny were about to meet each other as father and daughter was no longer the daunting prospect it had once been. It was simply something she should have seen to years ago.

  For the first time in a week Maddy felt strong. She was here now, here with Jenny and able to protect her. And Julian was standing by to help.

/>   She watched him jog up the beach to join her. He hadn’t really changed much, she thought. The lanky hair was starting to grey and there was a lack-of-exercise thickening about the waist but the image was the same. Gawky. All bones.

  Yes, she thought, between the two of them they’d manage. And Alex couldn’t be all bad, surely. After the shock, he and Jenny might even delight in the discovery of each other.

  When she said as much to Julian he corrected her on both counts. ‘Sure, he’s not all bad, Maddy, but I’ll tell you something that might be a lot worse. He’s mad. It’s quite possible he always has been. And I don’t think for one minute that either of them will delight in the discovery of their relationship.’

  Maddy’s new-found strength and her hopes for a simple solution disappeared entirely as she listened to Julian.

  He painted the picture as black as he saw it, sparing her nothing. He started with the play, its subject matter and its principal characters. Maddy was horrified. She’d had no idea the roles in Centre Stage were so sexually entwined.

  ‘Well, you’ll have to recast the girl’s part,’ she said. ‘Jenny can’t do it, that’s obvious.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Julian countered and, before Maddy could interject, he spelt it out for her. ‘Face it, you’re already having trouble with your daughter. Just what do you think her reaction will be if you cheat her of the biggest opportunity of her career?

  ‘Because that’s what it will be,’ he continued, holding up a hand to stop Maddy from interrupting. ‘London managements are already vying for the production on the strength of my other plays, Alain’s sold the television deal and it looks as if the UK wants to be in on that too. It’s a first, I tell you. And, disturbing as the play might be, it’s far and away the most powerful thing I’ve ever written.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ Maddy’s confusion was making her irritable. ‘So she keeps the role. We tell her and Alex everything and they continue as they are. They’re actors, for God’s sake. Father and daughter teams have played love scenes before. What’s wrong with that?’

  Julian answered immediately. ‘I agree Alex should be told. And he should be asked to hold back and stop encouraging the girl’s infatuation. But I’m not sure about Jenny—I don’t think for one minute she’d be able to perform this role if she knew that he was her father.’

  Beyond that, Julian was unable to convey his misgivings. ‘Read the script tonight,’ he said finally. ‘I think my worry is that the play could take over.’ He squinted out at the ocean. The sun was beginning to give him a headache; he rarely spent time on the beach in midsummer. ‘I may be dramatising the whole situation, Maddy,’ he said. ‘They may be infatuated with each other merely as actors—I know that happens. But I’m worried. And I don’t know what the right plan of action is.’

  They agreed, however, that Alex must be told as soon as possible.

  ‘I’ll arrange lunch tomorrow,’ Julian offered. ‘One o’clock, by the minotaur at Hyde Park Fountain?’

  When Maddy arrived home, Helena was waiting impatiently.

  ‘I was beginning to worry, darling,’ she said with a furrowed brow.

  Maddy got straight to the point. ‘Did Jenny tell you she was going to audition for this part?’

  ‘Oh yes, dear,’ Helena gushed, ‘and we were so thrilled when she got it.’

  ‘And did she tell you all about the production?’

  ‘Well, of course she did.’ Helena was bewildered and a little offended by Maddy’s belligerence. ‘It’s a wonderful opportunity for her. It’s a Rainford/Oldfellow collaboration. We’re all very excited.’

  ‘And who the hell do you think Rainford and Oldfellow are?’

  Oh dear, Helena thought, this cross-examining was becoming most unpleasant. ‘I do still keep abreast of the theatre, Maddy—they’re the most successful entrepreneur and playwright partnership—’

  ‘That’s right. Alex Rainford and Julian Oldfellow.’

  ‘Yes. Alex Rainford and …’ Realisation started to dawn. ‘Oh my goodness. Not your Alex?’

  ‘Yes, mother, if you want to put it that way, my Alex and my dearest friend Julian.’

  ‘Well, I certainly never knew your friend Julian’s surname,’ Helena said, totally justified on that score. ‘But … that means Alex is Jenny’s …’

  ‘Precisely.’

  Helena started to apologise, although she wasn’t quite sure what for. Maddy let her off the hook.

  ‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter. But for the moment Jenny mustn’t know. Promise me that you won’t say a word. Not even to Todd.’

  ‘I promise, darling. I do. I promise.’

  ‘I mean it! Not one word!’ And Maddy went upstairs to her bedroom to read the script. What was the point in being angry with her mother? Helena had never had the capacity to think of anyone or anything other than herself and her impact on the social scene.

  An hour and a half later Maddy put the script to one side, lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

  That blissful moment on Bondi Beach flashed through her mind. The moment when she’d looked at the waves, watched Julian jogging towards her and thought that everything might end up being simple. Oh, how she wished it could be.

  The play was magnificent. There was no way she could rob Jenny of this role—or the ability to perform it to her best. And Maddy certainly agreed with Julian that it would be impossible for Jenny to do that if she knew that Alex was her father.

  Not that there were heavily sexual scenes in the play—there weren’t. It was all innuendo. There wasn’t even any heavy kissing; their lips barely touched. But the girl must be sexually besotted with the man. She must be his slave. To the man, of course, she was nothing but a willing player in his game of death.

  In the acting process it was necessary, therefore, for Jenny to have a certain infatuation for the actor playing opposite her. It wasn’t necessary for the man though. And once he’d been told, surely it would be simple for Alex to keep control of the situation? Maddy couldn’t help feeling that maybe Julian had been dramatising things; perhaps he had been confusing the acting process with reality.

  Maddy was in a state of utter confusion. Several pages into the play she’d recognised that the characters were based upon herself and Alex and she was fascinated to read about the power Alex had had over her. She hadn’t realised it herself all those years ago—not until she’d been faced with the abortion. She was equally fascinated to think that Julian had been observing it and writing about it all the while.

  She wasn’t offended by his use of the past. It was his right and the play was a wonderful observation. But Julian’s thought that Alex was perhaps practising the same power games on the infatuated daughter of that original union … well, surely that was just a playwright’s fanciful notion? Maybe it would be Julian’s next play …

  Maddy knew that ever since the episode at Berchtesgaden Julian had been convinced there was a madness in Alex. A madness and an obsession with death. Maddy herself had never been aware of that side of Alex: her recollection of him was of a dangerously charismatic man who had power over women, power over people in general. But, as for this obsession with death … could it perhaps be Julian’s? Julian had always been obsessed with Alex. He’d admitted that all of his successful plays had, in one way or another, been inspired by Alex.

  Stop it, she told herself, she must think rationally. The one that mattered was Jenny, a talented young actor on the threshold of her career.

  Maddy couldn’t help but recall her own early years in London. Hands clutching at her backside as she carted around steins of lager in the Bier Keller, the stale smell of ‘champagne’ and the gloom of ‘Danny’s Downstairs’. This role could save Jenny all that. Centre Stage could push her five years up the ladder; she could skip all the crap in between.

  As the images of the early years flickered through Maddy’s mind, she drifted off into a jet-lagged sleep.

  Jenny arrived home early the next morning
full of apologies.

  Maddy was up at seven, having slept most of the previous afternoon. She was halfway through her second cup of coffee on the terrace when a voice rang out behind her.

  ‘Mum! I’m sorry!, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry.’

  Maddy only just had time to put her coffee cup down before she was engulfed in a fierce hug.

  ‘A few of us went out for drinks after rehearsals and we talked for hours. And then Paul joined us and then I went back to his place and then suddenly it was really late and … Hell, I didn’t mean to stay out on your first night in town.’

  Under normal circumstances Maddy probably would have been a little hurt, but these were not normal circumstances. It was a huge relief to think that Jenny had gone back to her young boyfriend’s place for a night of lovemaking.

  ‘It’s all right, darling. I was so jet-lagged that I slept most of the time anyway. Now do you have a moment to talk to me before you go to rehearsal? I’m dying to hear about everything.’

  ‘Yes, I’m not called till ten-thirty.’

  And talk Jenny did. All about the play, the production, her role, the cast, the director, and Alex Rainford. She talked a lot about Alex Rainford.

  ‘It’s wonderful working opposite him, Mum. He’s riveting.’

  Strangely enough, the more Jenny talked about Alex, the more Maddy felt herself relax. Jenny was talking as an actor.

  ‘He’s living the role and he’s bringing so much out of me that the response between us is electric. It’s unbelievably exciting!’

  Maddy knew exactly how she felt. Foolish as it may have sounded to others, there probably wasn’t an actor around who hadn’t felt that at least once in their career. Mind you, Maddy hoped the director was strict enough not to allow such ‘electric response’ to become indulgent. Nothing worse than wanky actors, she thought, but she didn’t prick Jenny’s bubble by saying it.