HIS OTHER SON (20 page)

           
‘Very
well,’ she said after a few moments.

           
‘Thank
you. I can come to the theatre.’

           
‘No,’
Meg said quickly. She preferred neutral territory.
 
‘We could meet on the pier. There’s a
cafeteria just before the entrance we could meet there in, say, half an hour?’

           
‘Very
well,’
Narina
Dressler
said
and hung up.

           
Meg
replaced the receiver and stood staring into space, her thoughts racing. What
had
she just agreed to?

Gareth stood in the wings, watching while
Ronnie Miller ran through his numbers in the show with the pianist Ted Taylor.
Taylor was an old hand and Gareth had worked with him before. He knew that Ted
was a true professional, who took work seriously but
never
let it interfere with his philosophy of living life to the full and enjoying
every moment. When Miller called a break Taylor got up from the piano and came
across to where Gareth was standing.

           
‘Good
set of lungs that boy,’ he said, jerking his thumb back at Ronnie Miller who
was charming two of the girls from the chorus with his patented Irish blarney.

           
‘He
can certainly hold a tune,’ Gareth said.

           
‘When
was it we last worked together on a show?’ Taylor said, sprinkling some tobacco
into a cigarette paper.

           
‘Three
years ago.
Boys Will Be Boys
, at the Apollo.’

           
‘Really?
What a stinker that was. So why are you still in
the chorus? With your talent I had you marked down for greater things.’

           
Gareth
shrugged. ‘You need the breaks in this business. Mine have been few and far
between. Actually, I’m hoping something might come my way soon. Did you know
Finlay
Crawford is in town? He’s staying at Clifford
Stein’s house.’

           
Ted
Taylor’s eyes narrowed. He ran the rolled up cigarette paper over his tongue to
gum it down. ‘So?’

           
‘I’ve
managed to wangle a private audition with him on Sunday for the series of shows
he’s producing next year.’

           
Taylor
pulled a book of matches from his pocket and lit the cigarette, blowing smoke
up at the flies. ‘Well, I’m very pleased for you… But you know what they
say,
he who sups with the devil should use a very long
spoon.’ He winked, but before Gareth could ask him what he meant he walked back
to his piano and sat down, his fingers running over the keys, playing the
arpeggio introduction to Ronnie Miller’s next song.

           
The
door at the back of the theatre banged shut and Meg came down the aisle towards
the stage. Gareth jumped down to speak with her. ‘I’ve decided,’ he began. ‘I’m
coming with you to see Crawford,’ he said.

           
‘I’m
not meeting
Finlay
Crawford. He’s been called back to
London on business.’

           
‘Oh,’
Gareth said, wrong footed. ‘Well, that’s all right then. Only I…’

           
‘But…’
Meg interrupted him. ‘I
am
going for coffee with
Narina
Dressler
. I spoke to her on the phone and she said
she’d like to talk to me.’

           
‘What about?’

           
On
the stage Ronnie Miller stopped singing. ‘Could we have some quiet down there
please?’ he called to them.

           
‘Sorry,’
Gareth called back.
‘What about?’ he whispered.

           
‘I
really don’t know, but I must admit I’m curious. And,’ she added, ‘scared out
of my wits. She’s a very intimidating lady.’

‘Where
are you going for coffee?’

‘I
suggested the cafeteria on the pier. We’re meeting there.’

           
‘Well
the offer is still there. I’ll come with you if you wish.’

           
‘That’s
very sweet of you, but I think this is women’s business. I think she just wants
to make sure I’ve got no designs on
Finlay
.’

           
‘And
have you?’

           
‘Gareth,
he’s old enough to be my father.’

           
‘He’s
old enough to be
Narina’s
father, and it
hasn’t stopped
her
.’

           
‘Good
point. But seriously, while I’d be flattered if
Finlay
Crawford
is
interested in me I’ve no real desire to pursue it further.
And that’s what I’ll be telling
Narina
Dressler
. Hopefully it will put her mind at rest and make
it a little less awkward when we go over there on Sunday.’ She glanced at her
watch.
‘Heavens.
I’ve got to fly.’ She pecked him on
the cheek and ran silently back up the aisle and out the double doors.

           
Gareth
put his fingertips to his cheek. He could still feel the warm moistness of her
lips. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was becoming very fond of
Meg Johnson.

A layer of grey cloud was obscuring the
sun and there was an unseasonable chill to the air as Meg walked the mile from
the Winter Gardens to the pier. She shivered as she walked along, but whether
that was due to the weather, or because she was nervous she wasn’t sure. As the
pier came into view she quickened her pace. She reached the cafeteria and
looked in through the window. At a table in the far corner sat
Narina
Dressler
. She was dressed
in a black sweater and slacks. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but she looked across
at Meg as she entered and beckoned her across. There were two cups of coffee on
the table in front of her. As Meg sat down she slid one across to her, took off
her dark glasses and set them down on the table. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she
said.

           
Meg
picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. It was strong and bitter. She reached
for the sugar dispenser and poured a measure into her cup, stirring it in to
the dark liquid with a spoon. ‘I must say, I’m a little intrigued as to why you
wanted to meet with me,’ she said.

           
‘I
don’t think you are
that
naïve,’
Narina
Dressler
said. ‘I heard what
Finlay
was saying to you on the landing. A duet! Ha!’ She leaned forward in her seat
and lowered her voice. ‘If
Finlay
is attracted to you
– and I believe he is – then there is very little I can do about it.
Finlay
is very dear to me… I love him, and I don’t think I
could bear to lose him. So I’ve asked you here to beg you not to take it
further. I know I am asking you to make a very great sacrifice, but I don’t
really see what else I can do.’

           
Meg
looked at her over the top of her coffee cup. She felt sorry for the woman.
Being in love with someone like
Finlay
Crawford could
not be easy. He was a hugely successful man, immensely popular, as well as
being rich and very good looking. Anyone having a relationship with him would
be incredibly insecure and vulnerable. She felt it only right to put the
woman’s mind at rest.

           
‘I
have no designs on
Finlay
Crawford,’ she said.

           
Hope
flared in
Narina
Dressler’s
eyes to be replaced quickly with suspicion. ‘But he is a very handsome man,’
she said.

           
Meg
laughed. ‘Yes, I know he is, and I’m very flattered if, as you say, he finds me
attractive. But I have no desire to enter into a relationship with anyone at
the moment, least of all
Finlay
Crawford.’

           
Narina
Dressler
put her
sunglasses back on and swallowed the last of her coffee. ‘Then I think I have
behaved very foolishly,’ she said and got to her feet. ‘I shouldn’t have asked
you here. I’m sorry if I have wasted your time.’

           
Before
Meg could respond the woman walked to the door of the cafeteria stepped outside
and moved quickly back along the pier to the road. As she reached it a black
Jaguar pulled into the kerb and Jarvis, Clifford Stein’s butler got out of the
driver’s side and came around the car to open the door for her. Without a
backward glance
Narina
Dressler
stepped into the car and slammed the door. A few seconds later the car eased
away from the kerb and was soon lost in the other holiday traffic.

           
The
suddenness of
Narina
Dressler’s
exit left Meg breathless, feeling she’d in some way been hoodwinked. It was as
if there was no real reason for the woman to ask her here. Moreover she was not
entirely convinced by
Narina
Dressler’s
performance as the slighted and wronged lover.
Performance!
That’s
exactly what it was.
Narina
Dressler
was
acting
… and not very convincingly.
But why?
And who’d put her up to it?

           
The
answer to that question dropped into her mind.

Clifford
Stein!

She
remembered the incident on the veranda.
Stein’s dominance of
the woman, her tears.
Would he have really acted like that if
Narina
was in fact
Finlay
Crawford’s partner? Or was it really as he’d told Gareth, that
Finlay
Crawford and
Narina
Dressler’s
relationship was strictly professional? Meg was
confused. How on earth did all this concern her? She felt that she was slowly
being sucked into a web of intrigue that she really wanted no part of. But it
seemed the more she tried to extricate herself from it the deeper she became
enmeshed. She needed to talk to Gareth about it. And this time she would tell
him everything. It was strange, but in the short time she’d known him, he’d
become an important figure in her life.

She
checked her watch. She needed to head back to the theatre. Across from the
cafeteria was a mirror maze, shut for lunch. The ticket kiosk was empty and
there was a chain across the entrance. As she turned to walk back along the
promenade a movement in the mirror maze attracted her attention. At that moment
the sun broke from behind the clouds and she shielded her eyes with her hand to
get a clear view. Standing inside the maze, her image multiplied by the dozens
of mirrors was the pale-faced girl she’d seen at Stein’s house.

As
Meg approached, the girl moved and her reflections moved with her. Within
seconds there was nothing to see except for a wall of glass. The chain across
the entrance was secured by nothing more than a hook through a ring. She lifted
the chain and stepped through the entrance, securing the chain behind her.

           
She
hadn’t been in a maze like this since she was a child, but the principles
hadn’t changed. There was a narrow wooden track snaking its way through a
system of walls – some made of clear glass, some of mirrors. Sometimes she
could see the route of the path through a glass wall, and then she’d turn a
corner and be confronted by a dead end and a dozen images of herself.

           
Taking
a deep breath Meg moved forward, deeper into the maze. She caught sight of the
girl again. ‘Wait!’ she called out and the girl stopped, glancing back over her
shoulder before moving on again.

           
Meg
swore softly and stepped forward, cracking her head on a sheet of plate glass
she hadn’t seen. She cried out and threw her hands to her head, feeling a bump
the size of a quail’s egg growing on her brow. This was pointless, like chasing
a shadow. She turned and tried to retrace her steps, but realized within
seconds that she’d come deep into the maze and completely lost her bearings.
She looked at her watch again. She should have been back at the theatre five
minutes ago.

           
Starting
to panic she stretched out her hand in front of her and began to move quickly
along the wooden path, and as she moved she started to hear voices. Soft voices
whispering her name over and over
again,
and a small
thrill of fear began to worm its way into her mind.

           
As
she moved forwards more figures appeared in the maze, fleeting shapes that
darted this way and that, never still long enough for her to get a close look
at them. Her mind was becoming woolly, her mouth dry. She could still taste the
bitterness of the coffee… and something else – a slight chemical aftertaste
that stuck in her throat, sharp and sour. She stopped moving forwards, swaying
slightly as she stood at junction of the mirrors. She closed her eyes and shook
her head to try to clear it. When she opened her eyes again she saw the girl
with the pale melancholy face standing inches away from her, separated from her
by a single sheet of glass.