Devil in Disguise (13 page)

On the night of the party
at Kit-Kat Cottage, there was quite a buzz at the theatre. Apart from post-show
drinks at the pub or in the theatre bar it was unusual for the company to enjoy
a social event together. Plans were made for Peter, Renata and Christine to
travel to Long Buckby in the car with Molly, while Sam, Michael and Duncan
would go with Roger, which meant they’d be a little later as Roger had to wait
half an hour after curtain down for the night-shift person to take over his
duties at the stage door. Marcus would travel there on his motorbike.

‘Your
car appears to be a Nissan arrangement,’ commented Peter to Molly, as they had
their traditional coffee in the green room before the show. ‘Are leather seats
too much to hope for?’

‘Velour,
chuck,’ Molly said.

‘Oh,
the horror!’ said Peter. ‘I may break out in hives.’

‘Perhaps
you’d better not come, then. I wouldn’t want you to suffer.’

‘Oh,
I’m so looking forward to it!’ exclaimed Peter. ‘I guess I’ll just have to
endure in silence. I may bring a roll of clingfilm. I’m sure you’ll be the
perfect hostess once we get there. I’m contributing a bottle of Laurent
Perrier. Rosé, naturally.’

‘Very
acceptable,’ said Molly. ‘Lilia and I went to Sainsbury’s this morning. We’ve
even upgraded from
Cava
to champagne, I hope we’ve got enough for you
all.’

‘So do
I. I’ve been saving myself,’ Peter informed her.

Later,
as Molly was applying her makeup, Christine came in with her wig, a heavy dark
Japanese-style hairpiece with the traditional chopsticks through the bun.

‘Hiya,
sweetheart!’ she said, in her pleasant, reassuring voice. ‘Bet you’re glad
you’re about to see the back of this thing. One more matinée and evening show
after this and you’re done.’

‘Gosh,
you look nice!’ said Molly, admiringly. Christine was always well dressed,
usually in soft, velvety fabrics cut low at the front to make a feature of the
lotus-flower tattoo springing from her cleavage. Tonight she was in a
bottle-green wraparound dress with a grey cashmere pashmina tied at her waist,
gypsy style, and silver strappy sandals. She had made herself up with pink,
glittery lips and shimmering black eyes. She wore copper earrings the size of
bangles and, as ever, looked cool.

Christine
was pleased. She stole a quick glance at herself in the mirror. ‘Thanks. I
thought I’d make an effort for our proper night out.’

‘I do
hope no one’s going to be disappointed,’ said Molly. She closed one eye and
applied a thick dark swoop of liquid liner along the lid. ‘It’s a buffet and a
few drinks, not
Sunday Night at the London Palladium.’

‘The
invitation sounds very sophisticated. Pardon me for asking, but is Lilia
famous?’

‘A
living legend in some circles. She’s retired now, of course.’

‘Sounds
fabulous! I can’t wait. I’ll meet you after the show, ‘said Christine, as she
closed the door behind her.

Molly
stared at her white made-up face and painted little rosebud lips. ‘What’s got
into everybody?’ she asked her reflection.

‘You’d
think they’d never been to a party before. It’s not the Oscars, for Christ’s
sake. I just hope Lilia can live up to the billing.’

Such
was the anticipation among the cast that they raced through the show, knocking
almost five minutes off the running time. The moment the final curtain fell,
Peter turned to Molly. ‘I’m going to have a quick shower and a facial scrub.
I’ll meet you at the stage door in exactly eleven minutes.’

In fact
he was there in nine, dressed in a fresh blue gingham shirt, face gleaming and
hair carefully blow-dried into the skeleton of a quiff. Renata was in a white
linen trouser suit, still in full Oriental stage makeup. She said she had a bit
of a headache and wasn’t sure if she should come.

‘Please
come, Renata,’ said Molly. ‘Lilia is so looking forward to meeting everyone.
You’ll love her.’

‘Very
well,’ she said, sounding pained. ‘Just a brief hello. We have a matinée
tomorrow. There’s going to be a terrible whiff of peardrops from the stalls.’

‘All
the more reason to have a bevvy. Come on, let’s go to the car.’

Renata
always needed to be coaxed into coming to the pub or even into the dressing
room for a glass of wine after a show but then, when she’d had a couple of
sips, she was the life and soul. Molly wanted Renata to be there because she
was a mature woman and a theatrical, and she thought Lilia might appreciate
her.

Christine
arrived in a flurry of smiles and excited giggles and got into the back with
Peter. Renata sat regally in the passenger seat and Molly drove. Once they were
out of the city and into the winding country lanes, threaded with clusters of
houses and villages, Peter said, ‘I wouldn’t fancy this drive every night. You
need your wits about you in the pitch dark.’

‘I
rather like it,’ said Molly. ‘I’ve seen starlings and pheasants, rabbits — even
some sort of falcon the other morning.’

‘Treacherous
in the winter months,’ rejoined Peter, knowingly.

‘Well,
it’s not winter, is it?’ said Molly, slightly exasperated. ‘It’s September and
we’re only here a couple more days.’

When
they eventually parked outside Kit-Kat Cottage, Peter peered out of the window.
‘Is this it? I was imagining some sort of quaint latticed-window affair. This
is your bog-standard modern little bungalow.’

‘I
think Lilia has fallen on hard times,’ said Molly, feeling defensive. Kit Kat
Cottage now seemed like home to her and she didn’t like the critical edge in
Peter’s voice. ‘It could happen to any of us.’

‘Tell
me about it,’ said Renata, quietly. ‘I was Peter Cook’s plaything once. Now I’m
touring the provinces and attending parties in bungalows. How are the mighty
fallen!’

‘Well,
you’re right, I suppose, Molly. And I can’t really boast about my little
pied-à-terre
come to that,’ said Peter, sounding a little kinder. Perhaps he’d seen
Molly’s expression of hurt and realised it was time to water down the
theatrical bitchiness a little.

‘Shall
we go in?’ said Molly. She had a distinct sense of trepidation about the
evening ahead. If only Simon were here. He’d know how to keep them in check.
But, as far as she knew, he and she weren’t even speaking at the moment so
she’d have to manage alone.

They
got out of the car and stood in a line on the garden path as Molly fished in
her handbag for the keys. Heathcliff barked gruffly from within.

‘Is
there a dog?’ asked Peter, wary. ‘Only I’m not very good with them.’

‘It’s
only Heathcliff,’ said Molly, soothingly. ‘He’s a big old softie.’

She
opened the door, greeted Heathcliff — who took one look at the visitors and
padded off to Lilia’s bedroom — and led everyone into the empty lounge. The
table was heaving with food and there was a strong smell of vinegar and Scotch
eggs. Champagne glasses were lined up on top of the piano, with small, neat
schnapps glasses gathered around them like day-old chicks with hens.

‘I’ll
put the bags and things in my bedroom,’ she said, making a quick collection.
‘Do make yourselves comfortable.’

‘Lovely
spread!’ said Christine. The three guests eyed the food hungrily. Everyone was
always starving after a show. ‘I guess we’d better wait for the others.’

‘Yes,
of course,’ said Renata, with admirable restraint, although she couldn’t stop
staring at a pork pie.

‘Sod
that,’ said Peter. ‘Those stagehands look as if they haven’t eaten for a week.
They’ll inhale this lot. Let’s tuck in while we can.’

Molly
left them to it and took the coats through to her room. She had just dumped
them when the doorbell rang so she headed for the front door. Marcus came in
first, flushed from his open-air ride, followed by Duncan, Sam, Michael and
Roger. Molly led them into the sitting room and there were cries of mock
surprise and joy as they all greeted the colleagues they had seen less than an
hour ago, albeit in a theatrical version of Japan. Peter pulled his bottle of
Laurent Perrier from a plastic bag with a flourish. ‘What we need is some of
this!’ he declared. ‘Sam, will you pass the glasses round?’

Molly
brought out two more bottles of Sainsbury’s own champagne and urged everyone to
help themselves to the buffet while she popped the corks and started filling
glasses. Soon the hum of conversation and the clink of cutlery on china plates
filled the room.

‘All
right, Duncan?’ Molly asked, as she did her best to circulate in the crowded
room.

‘Mmm.
I’ve no idea what I’m eating but it’s delicious,’ he said, spraying filo-pastry
crumbs.

‘That’s
the story of your life,’ said Peter, tartly.

Renata
had downed her champagne and was eyeing an elaborate glass bottle on the
mantelpiece.

‘Peppermint
schnapps,’ Molly informed her. ‘Have some! ‘‘Peppermint?’ demurred Renata. ‘I’m
not sure.’

‘Good
for the digestion.’

‘Is it?
Well, maybe just the one …

Sam,
Marcus and Michael were huddled in the alcove, drinking from cans of lager and
somehow sharing a single armchair.

‘Now,
boys,’ said Molly, as she passed, ‘sorry there are no kebabs, but this is all
healthy fare, so don’t be shy.’

‘Is it
Arabic?’ asked Michael.

‘I’m
not eating sheep’s eyeballs!’ said Sam, and the three fell about laughing.

‘Arabic?
What are you talking about?’ Molly pointed over at the table. ‘Rollmop herring?
Dumplings? Gherkins and pumpernickel? You need to learn a bit about world
cuisine, boys.’

Roger
slid round in front of Molly.

‘Hiya,
Rog,’ Molly said brightly. ‘Like a top-up? I’ve got some bubbles left if you’re
interested.’

Roger
ignored the offer. ‘This is very odd,’ he stated. ‘Where is Lilia?’

‘I
don’t know, actually. She said we should start without her if she was still
getting ready.’ Molly looked at her watch. ‘But she must be done by now. I’ll
go and knock on her door.’

‘I
mean, what sort of party is it where the hostess doesn’t even show her face?
She’s not Elton John, for fuck’s sake.’

‘She’s
here, don’t get your knickers in a twist.’

‘Well,
go and get her. We could do with some entertainment around here. I’m not being
funny but to be perfectly honest with you, I’m bored.’

Molly
put a placatory hand on his arm. ‘Okay, Roger, I get the message. Calm down,
have a drink and I’ll see what’s keeping Lilia.’

As she
excused herself, pushing past everyone, she felt a little flustered and her smile
was somewhat strained. Roger had managed to sour the mood for her, but perhaps
he was right. It
was
odd for Lilia not to be present at her own party.

She
shut the sitting room door behind her just as Renata was letting out peals of
laughter and Duncan was raising his voice to Peter. She took a couple of deep
breaths in the corridor and knocked gently on Lilia’s door, which wasn’t on the
latch. Heathcliff growled menacingly from within.

‘It’s
only me,’ said Molly. ‘Just checking that you’re all right.’

‘Ah,
Molly,’ said Lilia. ‘Do come in. It’s rather dark in here.’

Molly
pushed the door open and stepped inside. She could see nothing but darkness for
a moment, then made out Lilia’s silhouette framed against the window. She was
sitting on the edge of the bed, and her left arm was moving slightly. Seconds
later Molly realised Lilia was stroking Joey’s forehead. The old lady was wearing
a floor-length, ruby-red sequined gown, which shimmered like ectoplasm in the
gloom.

‘The
guests have arrived, I hear.’

‘Yes,
they’re having a great time. Are you coming to join us?’

‘I do
apologise. Joey will not settle.’

‘Is
there anything I can do to help?’ asked Molly, eagerly. ‘Shall I make him a cup
of tea?’

‘No
liquids at this time of night. The only answer may be to increase his
medication.’

‘Why
don’t you bring him to the party? It’s only next door.’

‘They
might confuse him with the rollmop herrings. I’d never forgive myself if he was
accidentally eaten.’

Molly
snorted, more with surprise than amusement. ‘Lilia, that’s awful! Come in and
enjoy yourself. You look beautiful.’

‘Not a
particularly convincing compliment as I’m sitting in the dark, but thank you. I
shall endeavour to make an appearance shortly. I feel …‘ She hesitated, her
voice trembling very slightly. Then she continued. ‘I feel — unsure of myself.
Nervous of meeting all your young friends.’

‘Oh,
you don’t have to feel like that. They’ll like you, I promise, and you’ll love
them. You’re just like us.’ Molly was overcome with pity for the poor old lady
who had wanted to have a party and impress the theatre folk but was now too
scared to show her face. Molly went to the bed and knelt down next to it. ‘I
don’t have a mother. But if I did I’d feel very proud if she was like you.’