Rachel Lindsay - Mask of Gold

by Rachel Lindsay

  'You're my mouse,' Jeffrey said fondly. 'I'm very partial to them.'

  Alvin had still not said a word, although Carolyn was conscious of his gaze directed at her, his expression, as usual, masked.

  'Pour out the drinks,' Mrs. Nichols said, 'or we'll be late.'

  'I was hoping we would,' Jeffrey replied. 'It's ridiculous, but I'm scared as hell.'

  'Why don't you stay here,' Alvin said unexpectedly, 'and we'll pick you up for the party afterwards?'

  'What party?'

  'A celebration dinner at the Savoy.'

  'You're pretty confident, aren't you?'

  'If you want a thing sufficiently you can make it come true.'

  'I wish I believed that.' Romaine sank gracefully on to the settee. 'Heaven knows I wish hard enough.'

  'It depends what you wish,' Alvin said.

  'You should know,' she murmured half inaudibly.

  'I think we all do,' Carolyn said loudly.

  There was a surprised silence and Ella turned away to hide a smile.

  'What about the drinks?' Jeffrey said hastily. 'It looks as if we'll need 'em!'

  Even when they reached the theatre and had taken their places in the box next to the stage Alvin had still not addressed one word to Carolyn. The four women occupied the front seats with Mrs. Nichols and Ella in the centre. Alvin and Jeffrey sat behind and she bit her lip as she saw Romaine catch Alvin's hand and hold it.

  Hiram Walsh came into their box as the overture was being played, patted Jeffrey on the back and disappeared again. Jeffrey mopped his brow and as the curtain rose he sidled out through the door. Ella half rose, but Carolyn shook her head.

  'Leave him alone. You'll make him feel worse.'

  'Poor darling,' Ella's eyes glistened with tears. 'I couldn't bear it if it's a flop.'

  But from the moment the lovely strains of music resounded through the auditorium Carolyn knew that 'Waiting for Ella' was going to be a success. The plot was a simple one, yet the situations were refreshing, occasionally naive and always touching. The songs were romantic and beautiful, particularly the theme song of the show:

  'Waiting for Ella The whole of my life, As children, as sweethearts, As husband and wife.'

  Carolyn felt the sting of tears in her eyes and fumbled for her handkerchief. Her bag had slipped to the floor and as she bent to get it Alvin leaned across, a handkerchief in his hand.

  'Use mine.'

  She did so and handed it back. He took it without a word, and she turned her eyes to the stage again. 'Waiting for Ella.' How poignant the title was. If the last two words were dropped it could be the story of her own life. Waiting… Waiting for a man who would never be hers; who would never know what he meant to her. The haunting refrain reached a crescendo as the final scene was played out, and as the boy and girl on the stage drew close to one another, the curtain dropped on the last act.

  There was a moment of complete silence and then a wave of cheers and clapping rocked the theatre. People stood on the seats and shouted, programmes were thrown in the air and the curtains rose again and again.

  'We want the author!' chanted the stalls.

  'Author!' yelled the dress circle.

  'Author! Author!' roared the gallery.

  Jeffrey opened the door of the box and peered round. 'I've been in a News Theatre,' he said hoarsely. 'Did they like it?'

  'Like it?' Ella sobbed and laughed at the same time. 'They're crazy about it!'

  Jeffrey advanced into the box, his face as white as his shirt.

  'You're joking,' he stammered. 'You're joking.'

  'Listen to the applause,' Mrs. Nichols said brokenly. 'They want you on the stage. Go and take your bow.'

  'I can't.' He backed towards the door.

  'You've got to,' Ella said, her eyes bright with tears. 'They're calling for you.'

  'I can't unless you come with me.'

  'No, Jeffrey, they don't want me.'

  'Without you there wouldn't have been a show. Please, Ella.'

  They looked into each other's eyes and Ella nodded silently. Hand in hand they walked out of the box, but on the threshold Jeffrey stopped. He came over to his mother and held her tight.

  'The Nichols have made it at last,' he said huskily. 'I bet you never thought you'd live to see the day!'

  He hurried out and Mrs. Nichols unashamedly began to cry. Alvin shielded her from the curious glances of the people in the stalls below them.

  'My faith in Jeffrey was justified,' he said quietly. 'It'll make all the difference to their marriage.' He began to clap. 'Here they come!'

  Hand in hand Jeffrey and Ella walked out from the wings.

  The clapping increased to a frenzy, but as Jeffrey held up his hand there was an instantaneous silence. He started to speak and lost his voice. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and he glanced round nervously at Ella. She stepped closer and pressed his arm. It restored his confidence and his voice suddenly boomed out.

  'Thank you for your wonderful reception. This is the happiest moment of my life. And now I'd like to introduce you to the real Ella.' He pulled his fiancee forward and the cheering started again.

  Carolyn stood up. 'I'd better go or I'll make a complete idiot of myself.'

  'And me,' Mrs. Nichols said.

  Together they walked out of the box and waited in the small ante-room. After a moment the door burst open and Jeffrey, Ella and a crowd of men and women came in. Bottles of champagne were opened and toasts were drunk. The room became smokier and hotter and Carolyn stayed close to the wall and fanned herself with her programme.

  'What did you think of the show?' A gruff male voice addressed her and she turned to see Hiram Walsh. His round red face had two heightened spots of colour and with his snow- white hair and twinkling blue eyes he looked like Santa Claus.

  'I adored every minute of it. And so did the audience, which is even more important.'

  'Ba goom,' he said, 'it's time there was a British musical running in a London theatre.'

  'You're not kidding!' Carolyn emphasised her accent, and Mr. Walsh looked discomfited.

  'Trust me to say that to a transatlantic visitor. Don't doubt you're a critic for die New Yorker!'

  'No such luck. I'm a sort of—sort of member of the family, you might say.' She waved her arm. 'Who are all these people?'

  'Designers, critics and some of the cast.'

  'It looks like all of the cast,' she murmured as someone knocked against her.

  'Aye, it does, but some are still changing. We're all going on to the Savoy with Mr. Tyssen.'

  Carolyn remembered the remark Alvin had made when Jeffrey had left the box with Ella.

  'At least his faith is justified.'

  Mr. Walsh looked at her shrewdly. 'More than justified.'

  She looked at Alvin talking to his sister and saw the tender look that passed between them.

  'It meant a lot to him,' she said softly. 'A lot.' 'Sixty thousand pounds is a lot to anyone.'

  Carolyn stiffened. 'Do you mean he backed the show?'

  'I thought you knew,' Walsh stammered. "You said "I know he did." That's why I thought he'd told you.'

  'I wasn't referring to the show.'

  'Then you'd best forget what I said. If Tyssen found out I'd told you he'd have my scalp. He made me swear not to say a word to anyone.'

  Hiram Walsh moved away still looking shocked, and Carolyn leaned against the wall, equally shocked. So Alvin had put up the money to have Jeffrey's show produced I She would never have believed him capable of it. This was no meaningless gesture made by a millionaire to whom money mean nothing. This was a generosity that showed understanding and warmth.

  'Come along, Carolyn.' It was Mrs. Nichols, her coat over her shoulders. 'We're going to the Savoy now.'

  They left the theatre—already empty of the audience—and, piling into cars, drove towards the hotel. Carolyn was wedged between two male leads from the cast and she listened with amusement to the backstage gossip
that flowed above her head.

  Inside the foyer of the Savoy, Mrs. Nichols and Ella were waiting for her and they went into the cloakroom to leave their wraps.

  Romaine was combing her hair by the mirror. 'I thought you'd been lost en route!'

  'We were waiting for Carolyn.' Ella closed her compact. 'Coming?'

  'In a minute,' Carolyn said. 'I want to wash my hands.' She moved over to a basin and turned on the tap.

  'You go on,' said Romaine. 'I'll wait for Carolyn.'

  Ella and Mrs. Nichols glanced at one another, then, looking faintly unhappy, went out.

  'I've been hoping we'd get a chance to talk,' Romaine said. 'I haven't yet congratulated you on your engagement to Derek. He's a charming man and wonderful painter.'

  'Thank you. Is your portrait finished yet?'

  'Almost, and Alvin's going to hang it in his private sitting- room.'

  Carolyn's heart thumped. 'How nice for him.'

  'You don't sound as if you think so.' The dark eyes widened. 'Sometimes I get the feeling you don't like me.'

  'I'm sorry,' Carolyn said coolly. 'I guess I'm not the polite British type!'

  The thick white lids closed for an instant. 'You do have an odd sense of humour. No wonder Alvin finds you amusing. It must be the novelty.'

  Carolyn felt her temper rise, but she controlled it and turned back to the basin for a hand towel.

  'I guess my only novelty for Alvin is that I'm one of the few women who doesn't throw herself at him.'

  'Meaning that I do?' Romaine asked. 'Really, my dear, we are letting our back hair down.'

  'I can't help it if you think I'm referring to you.'

  'But you were, weren't you?'

  'As a matter of fact, yes!'

  Romaine shrugged. 'I've adored Alvin for more than a year.'

  'Him or his money?'

  'How crude you are,' Romaine said distastefully.

  'You could call it honesty.'

  The woman's eyes half closed. 'Once you've had Alvin as a lover the money becomes meaningless. Then it's only the man that counts.'

  This was more than Carolyn had bargained for and she struck back. 'You must let me know when the wedding's taking place—if it ever does!'

  Deliberately Romaine looked down at the enormous square- cut diamond on her finger. 'I will,' she said. 'Shall we join the ladies?'

  'It would be a change!' Carolyn replied, and led the way out.

  The large table Alvin had booked was set some distance away from the orchestra and Carolyn found she had been placed between the same two men with whom she had shared a car. Alvin still avoided looking at her, and when the champagne was served she gulped it down liberally, desperately hoping it would give her the courage to get through the evening.

  As coffee was served the orchestra struck up the first notes of 'Waiting for Ella' and Jeffrey raised his head. 'That's quick work!'

  'When Mr. Tyssen arranges a party,' Hiram Walsh said, 'nothing is forgotten.'

  Jeffrey pulled Ella to her feet and this was the signal for everyone at the table to make a move. Eddie Robins, male lead of the show, caught Carolyn's hand. 'Come on beautiful, let me show you off. Now I've found you I'll never let you go.'

  'That sounds like the lyric of a song.'

  'It is,' he grinned. 'Waiting for Ella', Act 1, Scene 3. You know something?' he said as they began to dance. 'I can go a whole evening and only use dialogue I've learned from my parts!'

  'Prove it.'

  He proceeded to so and Carolyn closed her eyes and listened to him. At dinner Alvin had not exchanged a single word with her, nor once looked in her direction, and to boost her own morale she had drunk too much champagne. Now she felt lightheaded and giddy, and everything took on an unreal quality, making it difficult for her to concentrate on what was being said; not that there was need to say much, for during the next hour she was swung from one pair of arms to the other, dancing continuously with the men from the show. From time to time she passed Alvin on the floor, and every time he seemed to be dancing with Romaine.

  At midnight the orchestra was replaced by a small group. The music stopped for a moment and Carolyn found herself directly beside Alvin. She glanced at her partner and saw he was looking at Romaine and, not caring what he thought, she whispered in his ear: 'Ask her to dance.' As the group swung into a slow, sensuous rhythm, the young man moved over to Romaine, forcing Alvin to step in front of Carolyn. Without a word he took her into his arms, his hand ice cold on her shoulder. Without being able to stop herself, she rested her cheek against his. From this angle she could see his eyes and the long, soft brown eyelashes. A desire to pull his head down on her breast was so strong that it was an effort to appear unmoved.

  'I hope you're enjoying the party,' he said stiffly.

  She ignored the question. 'It was kind of you to arrange for it for Jeffrey.'

  'I'm a kind man.'

  'I found that out tonight.'

  'Indeed?'

  'Yes. Mr. Walsh told me you backed the show.'

  His eyelids blinked rapidly. 'For heaven's sake, keep quiet!'

  'Why?'

  'Because Jeffrey would think his success depended on me.'

  'It does.'

  'Rubbish! I merely recognised his talent before anyone else.'

  'You're a jack of all trades, from chemist to angel, from angel to lover.'

  Forgetting they were so close, he moved his head to look at her and inadvertently his lips touched her cheek. He drew back instantly. 'Are you trying to flirt with me, Carolyn?'

  'Would I succeed if I did?' 'Don't!' he said in a strangled voice. 'It's no use.'

  The tremor of his body belied his words and she moved closer and clung to him. 'Why isn't it any use? Answer me, Alvin, you can't walk away and leave me this time. Even you wouldn't leave a girl alone on a dance floor.'

  'The question I just asked you. Would I succeed if I tried to flirt with you?'

  'What do you want me to answer?' he demanded.

  Again he was silent, but again his body gave him away and she said unsteadily: 'There's no point pretending, Alvin. You want me as much as I want you.'

  'That's the champagne talking,' he said in a frigid voice. 'You've drunk too much.'

  'So what? At least it's giving me Dutch courage.' She twined her arms around his neck. 'Do you like my dress, or haven't you noticed?'

  'It would be difficult not to notice it,' he said unevenly. 'It's a pity your fiance isn't here to see it.'

  'He won't be my fiance much longer. I'm breaking my engagement.'

  His feet missed a step. 'Is that true?'

  'Yes,' she hesitated and then said, 'I'd rather live the rest of my life alone than share my future with him.'

  'Future or your fortune? You should think carefully, Carolyn. You know what happens when thieves fall out.'

  'What's that supposed to mean?'

  'You don't need my explanation for that.'

  'Yes, I do.' She drew a deep breath. 'If you make one more remark I don't understand, I'll—I'll hit you!'

  'I'll hit you back if you do,' he said quietly, and smiled across at Mrs. Nichols who danced passed him with Hiram Walsh. Not until they were out of earshot did he speak again.

  'Let's not bandy in words, Carolyn. You know as well as I do. If you play with fire you're liable to get your fingers burned.'

  'You did,' she said. 'Is it better?'

  'Is what better?' For an instant he looked startled. 'Oh, my hand. Yes, it's better.' He moved a pace away, although his grip on her shoulder remained hard. 'I wish I could see into your mind,' he said savagely. 'Tonight, you look as I always imagined you to be—sophisticated and calculating. Yet at other times you're so naive and appealing that…' For a moment he stopped as though the effort to continue was too much, and when he spoke again his voice was harsh. 'Which is the real you? Tell me that.'

  'Would it make any difference if I did? For reasons best known to yourself, you equate me with the Borgias.'


  'A girl who could do what you've done—— '

  'What have I done?'

  'If you still persist in playing the innocent,' he said quietly, 'make the best of the next seven days. After that your charade will be over.'

  'I'm sick and tired of your riddles. I thought I could get the truth from you tonight, but it's impossible.' Her eyes filled with tears and she made no attempt to hide them. 'You see I haven't much pride left when it comes to emotions, Alvin. I'm not as controlled as you. I thought there was something between us that meant more—that could have led to…' A sob rose in her throat and she was unable to continue.

  "Your tears don't move me. All you've done is spoil your make- up.'

  She clenched her hand against the lapel of his jacket. 'You're cruel,' she whispered. 'Cruel and heartless. I hate you!'

  He did not reply and guided her slowly back to the table, saw her seated and then intercepted Romaine who was coming off the floor. Carolyn saw them dance away and through her tears Romaine appeared to be a blur of shimmering white.

  Carolyn did not remember the party breaking up, for the remaining hours of the night passed in a haze of misery. The following morning they returned to the country, and for the next couple of days the phone did not stop ringing. Everyone was congratulating Jeffrey on his success and he had given up his job at the factory in order to look for a flat in London and to concentrate on his next musical.

  The first morning of her return, Carolyn phoned Derek, determined to see him and break her engagement, but he still insisted she stayed away from him because he was infectious.

  'There's no point in your getting ill as well,' he said.

  'But I want to see you,' Carolyn insisted.

  'I want to see you too, sweetheart, but wait until the end of the week.'

  She put the phone down, depressed that she was unable to see him right away, for until she told him how she felt, her engagement hung over her head like a black cloud. Still standing by the telephone, she decided to speak to her lawyer, and she dialled his number.

  His conversation was at least more rewarding, for he explained that he had managed to find a way of making the money revert to Mrs. Nichols and Jeffrey in the event of anything happening to Piotr.

  'Thank goodness for that,' she said. 'I'll come over and see you this afternoon.'