How was he expected to go on smiling and frisking about the stage as if everything were fine when he really felt wretched and despairing of the years ahead? He had to bring an end to it one way or another: violence he could cope with, but shame was more than he could bear.
Once inside the room, Terry took his crown from the chair and threw it on the floor, sitting to face Fleming with more nonchalance than he felt. ‘You’ve got no proof.’
The other man laughed. ‘I’ve got all I need. And you’d be surprised who’ll crawl out of the woodwork once the idea’s out in the open. Let’s face it – there’s no shortage of candidates.’
He was right, of course. Terry knew that no matter how careful he had been, he could not rely on everyone to protect him forever 117
and it would only take one loose mouth to ruin him completely.
‘How much do you want this time?’ he asked, defeated.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Another five hundred should do for now.
When you’ve got your new projects underway, we can renegotiate.
But hurry up: I haven’t got all the time in the world.’
‘Then you’d better learn some patience, because there aren’t going to be any new projects. At least, not immediately.’
‘What? Has Aubrey started to tire of his golden boy at last?’
Fleming sneered, his professional jealousy for a moment overcom-ing his other concerns. ‘Dear, dear. Well, you’ll just have to find another way because believe me – that little fall from grace will be nothing compared to the one you’re heading for if I don’t get what I need.’
‘Need?’ Terry retorted, suddenly raising his voice. ‘Are you seriously trying to grace that pathetic habit of yours with some sort of necessity? Look at you! You drink your nights away and turn up here to this stage – my stage – to sleepwalk through another performance, and then you expect me to fund your next . . .’
‘What?’ Fleming was shouting now, and his fury drowned out any level that Terry could manage. ‘You think I’d dirty my soul with your money just for a drink? Christ, you’ve got no idea what normal people have to live with, have you? Locked up here in your own little world, with nothing to care for but your own ego, nothing to lose but another role, another bit of make-believe.’ He picked up the discarded crown and threw it across the room, where it crashed against the dressing-room mirror and shattered Terry’s startled reflection. ‘It’s not just kings, you know. Real people suffer, too, and it would do you good to find out just for once how that feels.’ His voice dropped again, but the change in volume brought no respite for Terry. ‘So yes,’ he continued, ‘I do
‘I can’t give you five hundred. Fifty’s all I’ve got – take it or leave it.’ He held the money up. ‘Anyway, it’s Aubrey you should be playing your dirty little games with. You’re going to need more than my money when you’re out of work.’
118
‘What?’
‘Hasn’t he told you yet? He’s going to sack you at the end of this run. Says he can’t rely on you any more, that you’ve lost whatever it was you had. I could never see it myself, but at least he’s come to his senses about something. So that’s you out of the running for the next show. You’ll have to think again.’
It was a cheap trick to buy himself some space and he knew it was only a matter of time before the lie was revealed. Fleming recovered quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent Terry from realising he had scored a small victory. ‘Then we’d better think of a way to make Aubrey change his mind about me, hadn’t we?’ he snarled, snatching the money and leaning close enough for Terry to feel the spittle on his cheek. ‘After all, two murders this weekend would look like recklessness.’ He stood up and went over to the door. ‘And in the meantime,’ he said mockingly, ‘we must stop meeting like this. You know how people talk.’
It was always at this time of the evening that Esme McCracken felt most at home in her life. Rather than take a break after the matinee like most of her colleagues, she preferred to stay behind and get the preparations for the evening performance out of the way immediately. Impatiently, she ran through costume and property plots which were automatic to her after more than a year, and made sure that all was in place by seven o’clock at the latest. It was then that she most needed time to herself.
Her one good coat – wool, in a daring blue, cast off by a woman her sister worked for and hardly ever worn – hung on the hook where it was always kept for these occasions. She took it down and put it on as quickly as possible, fastening the buttons firmly to cover a faded black jumper and skirt which felt as worn out and as undistinguished as she did, then slipped out of the stage door and round to the front of the New Theatre, eager to be where she belonged. From where she stood at the top of the steps, just outside those polished timber doors, she could watch the audience arrive without being seen from inside, offering a few words of welcome to any theatregoers who caught her eye and practising an air 119
of gracious humility for the future. As the foyer began to fill with expectation, she wondered what her own audiences would be like when Aubrey finally gave in and put her play into production; more discerning than this, certainly, she thought, looking dis-paragingly at a man in a drenched-through mackintosh and trilby, although she supposed she would have to settle for smaller numbers, at least in the early days. Never mind: what mattered was that those who did come would value her ideas, and of that she had no doubt.
On the dot of seven-thirty, Bernard Aubrey came down from his office into the foyer as he did every night, clad immaculately in evening dress which he wore with a casual elegance. He took up his usual position by the white marble chimneypiece and, ever the genial host, nodded to his Saturday night regulars, many of whom he knew well after several years of faithful attendance. He was still a handsome man, McCracken thought grudgingly, and the attractive coupling of compassion and determination in his eyes had not been dulled by age.
As she watched, Aubrey’s general smile of greeting took on a more personal warmth and she felt a sharp stab of jealousy when she recognised its recipient; in the crush, she had not noticed Josephine Tey arrive, but that was hardly surprising – her looks were as bland as her work. She returned Aubrey’s kiss on the cheek, and he lowered his head to allow her to speak privately into his ear, then the two moved slightly to one side, away from the main crowd. McCracken tutted impatiently as her view of the pair was blocked, and risked moving slightly forward; by the time she had them once again in her view, Aubrey’s expression had completely changed and Tey had laid a consoling hand on his arm.
What was that all about? Perhaps she had told him she was giving up the stage? If so, this could be the moment she’d been waiting for. Her heart lifted briefly, until she saw one of the Motley women
– the overweight one – dragging a young couple through the crowd to where Tey and Aubrey were still in
