Authors: Lynne Wilding
In a fit of pique, Hilary, who’d been well provided for in the will, had bought a beautiful home in Cullen Bay, a Darwin seaside suburb where, with the Selby name being well known, a good social life was guaranteed. But that hadn’t satisfied her. He shrugged a shoulder defensively as he acknowledged that nothing seemed to satisfy his mother these days. Which was regrettable because, periodically, she made his, Curtis’s and Lauren’s lives hell with her demands and attempts to impose her will as she had in bygone days.
Bren had settled into his room at the Montgomery’s spacious flat in Mayfair. He had come armed with Vanessa’s phone number and address, courtesy of an obliging Fay Whitcombe whom he’d contacted through their mutual friends on Linford Downs Station.
Alex and Felicia had bought him, and themselves, tickets to the opening night of
The Glass Menagerie
, in which Vanessa starred. He looked at his reflection in the wardrobe mirror. Opening nights were special events in London with first-nighters wearing their best clobber, according to Alex. Hence the hired dinner suit and other paraphernalia.
Would she remember him? God, his hopes would be dashed if she didn’t. In her profession, she undoubtedly met a lot of people, males, from varying backgrounds and, perhaps, the unpalatable thought crossed his mind, she was seeing a new man by now. Damn! He should have come sooner but Curtis would have thrown a fit if he’d taken off before the post-wet muster.
‘Ready, Bren?’ Alex asked as he knocked on the bedroom door.
‘Don’t you look super,’ Felicia complimented as the two men came down the hallway then added as an afterthought to her husband, ‘you too, darling.’ Ready herself, she went to stand by the front door to wait for them.
‘Mmmm, you can tell we’ve been married for a while,’ Alex grumbled good-naturedly, his grimace directed at his wife. ‘The longer one is married, so I’ve noted, the more rare and sometimes questionable are the compliments.’
‘Don’t be such a bear, darling. It’s Bren’s confidence that needs boosting, not yours.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Bren said staunchly as they walked down a flight of stairs to street level. He knew he looked good in the dinner suit. He had the height, the breadth of shoulders and the tan to carry it off. It was bitterly cold outside, it had been all day, and a sensible man would have worn his sheepskin coat over the dinner suit. That wouldn’t have looked sophisticated so the coat stayed where he’d thrown it on arrival, over a chair next to the bed.
‘I wangled tickets through a friend to go backstage afterwards, to meet the cast,’ Felicia murmured to Bren as Alex flagged a taxi. ‘I didn’t tell you before ’cause I thought it might make you nervous.’
‘Thanks, I believe they’re hard to get.’ Bren gave Felicia a grateful smile, letting the fact that he was impressed show. It was obvious that Felicia was trying to make him feel comfortable and help him in his romantic endeavours. It was nice of her to have
made the effort. He didn’t know the English-born Felicia as well as he knew Alex. He and Alex’d been mates at boarding school and had flatted together in Townsville while they’d done their respective university degrees; farm agriculture for himself and a business degree for Alex. After getting his Masters, Alex, now a stockbroker, was doing very nicely on the London Stock Exchange.
From their dress circle seats, the Montgomerys and Bren had a good view of the stage. Bren’s gaze followed Vanessa as she performed her role though he was more interested in watching her every movement and listening to the sound of her voice, than following the play’s plot. Before Vanessa made her entrance, he had admitted to, suddenly, having doubts. What if, when he saw her, he felt nothing? What if the fantasy he’d built up in his mind was just that, and seeing her in real life burst the bubble of his dreams? But then she had come on stage and her presence was so powerful that the audience hushed, eager to hear every line she uttered.
She looked very different to the woman he’d met in Darwin. Her hair was formally done. She wore stage make-up too, and her role played a part in that. However, as he listened to his erratic heart pump faster than it should, and became more aware of the blood coursing through his veins, he knew his feelings were true and that nothing mattered more than getting Vanessa to reciprocate them.
The evening passed in a blur. Alex, Felicia and he talked about the play and about other topics but he’d be damned if he could remember a single word.
He was focussing on that backstage party. God, so much hinged on making the right impression.
These feelings, these anxieties were new territory for Bren Selby. In the past, with women, he could either take them or leave them — often the latter — in spite of the outback lacking a surplus of females, a fact that had never worried him. Having seen Curtis go through a ruinous divorce to that bitch, Georgia, and seeing him lose contact with his only child, had been a salient lesson, enough to put him off contemplating settling down. Until now!
Since he had first laid eyes on Vanessa he had thought, many times, that he was embarking on an impossible dream yet, curiously, there was something romantic, even old-fashioned about his quest, considering it was almost the nineties. These days, people shacked up together, changed partners as frequently as they liked, were promiscuous in their love lives and didn’t seem overly concerned about contracting AIDS or any of several other nasty, communicable diseases. Social ethics had blurred dramatically as the century was drawing to a close and while he considered himself a modern kind of bloke, there was enough of the traditionalist in him to want to do things the right way.
It was bedlam backstage after the final curtain went down. Vanessa hated it and at the same time, contradictorily, loved it. There were so many people, cast, crew members and the public milling around to congratulate and, occasionally, criticise the performance. Champagne flowed freely, and there was a lot of noise, laughter and compliments,
sincere and otherwise. After years of experience she knew that by the time the critics’ reviews went to print, she would be pleasantly exhausted and her cheek muscles sore from so much smiling.
From the other side of the stage Kerri Spanos gave her the thumbs up sign. Yes, she too believed the audience had loved the play.
The Glass Menagerie
had been originally made memorable by the late English actress, Gertrude Lawrence, long before Vanessa had been born. She hoped none of the critics would compare her performance to the legendary Gertrude’s. She had played the role the way she had felt it, not copying it from any past performances.
Someone touched her on the shoulder. She turned around to see who it was.
‘Vanessa Forsythe, I presume?’ A deep voice with an Australian accent spoke, corrupting the renowned Stanley meets Livingstone introduction.
‘Oh!’ She looked into a pair of grey eyes that were studying her intensely. They belonged to a ruggedly attractive man in his early thirties. ‘It’s you.’
A shiver of delight went through her. She knew him, didn’t she, but from where and how? Something about him … She pondered over the tingle of recognition, her brown eyes sparkling as the memory clicked into place. ‘Aahhh! The jackaroo with two left feet, from Darwin.’
‘The same. But how unkind of you to remember my two left feet, considering I only trod on your toes once,’ Bren threw back at her with an engaging grin.
His answer made her smile, slowly. He’d been nice, she remembered that. Friendly and easygoing,
a lot different to the average uptight, straight-backed Englishman. And, she recalled admitting as she had packed her bags that night … there had been a momentary regret that they’d been like ships passing in the night.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Combining business with pleasure,’ he fibbed convincingly. ‘Inspecting livestock breeds in Middlesex and staying with an old school friend in London.’ He waggled an accusing finger at her as he said, ‘You could have told me you were
the
Vanessa Forsythe. The actress who has articles written about her regularly in women’s magazines, who’s been nominated for several acting awards and has already won one.’
Wanting to know all he could, over the last two months he had compiled a dossier on Vanessa, thanks to her fan club. He had press clippings from her Sydney performances. He knew about the death of her fiancé, David Benedict. Knew a little about her parents, her on-the-stage grandmother …
‘Forgive me. I was on holiday, travelling incognito.’ She jiggled her eyebrows melodramatically. ‘I chose to be an ordinary person. That’s not always easy for me in the United Kingdom.’
‘You could never be ordinary, Vanessa.’ His voice rang with sincerity. ‘Though I understand the reason for your secretiveness.’
‘Thanks, but I’m afraid you have the advantage. I’m sorry, I can’t recall your name.’
He stopped the wince before it started. Of course she couldn’t. Why would she? ‘Brendan Selby of Amaroo Downs. People call me Bren.’
‘Bren. Yes, of course. Come meet my agent, Kerri Spanos. She’s standing beside the lighting control panel over there, giving us the “stare”. Kerri’s very protective and, clearly, wants to know who you are.’
Vanessa took hold of his hand. ‘She’s a dear friend as well as my business manager and,’ she giggled as she admitted her agent’s greatest flaw, ‘when it comes to her clients, the world’s biggest stickybeak.’
‘We can’t disappoint the world’s biggest stickybeak, can we?’ he agreed. Following her, they wove their way through the crowd until they’d made it to the other side of the stage.
‘Kerri, meet Brendan Selby from Australia.’ Vanessa made the simple introduction.
‘Australia.’ Kerri’s dark eyebrows winged upwards. ‘So, do I presume that you two have met before …?’
‘Fleetingly,’ Vanessa supplied the answer. ‘On my last night in Darwin.’
‘And now you’re in England, Bren.’ The question was more in Kerri’s eyes than her tone of voice as she submitted him to a thorough inspection.
‘Yeah. A combined business trip and holiday. I read the promo about the play in the paper and recognised Vanessa’s name. Thought I’d look her up and say hello.’
‘Really, on a first night too! How interesting,’ Kerri said with a cool smile.
On the surface Kerri Spanos’s expression gave nothing away but Bren could tell that Vanessa’s agent’s mind was ticking overtime. Bullshit, she was probably thinking. He might fool Vanessa with his
casual approach but he could tell from the agent’s sharp look that she
knew
he was smitten.
‘How long will you be in town, Bren?’ Kerri wanted to know.
‘I’m not sure. A month at least, maybe longer.’
‘Your property can do without you for that long?’ Vanessa queried.
‘My brother runs the place as well as I do, perhaps even better,’ Bren admitted with a chuckle. ‘I won’t be missed, too much, not until the spring muster.’ Though he knew Curtis would kill him if he stayed away that long!
‘Oh, Vanny,’ Kerri was the only person who dared to use that nickname for Vanessa, ‘Mike Harley from
The Times
wants an interview. He’d like to do it now so it can make tomorrow afternoon’s paper.’
‘No problem.’ Vanessa gave Bren a regretful smile. ‘That’s the problem with being
known
, not enough time to oneself.’
‘Perhaps I could give you a call? Take you to lunch or something?’ Bren offered, striving to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
‘Of course, I’d like that,’ Vanessa said with a smile. ‘Kerri will give you my number.’
‘No worries. I got your number from Fay Whitcombe. Fay was kind enough to give it to me before I left Darwin,’ he said with a self-satisfied smile.
‘Oh,’ Vanessa looked impressed. ‘How clever of you to do that. The Whitcombes are coming here in June, you know.’
‘You’d better go and find Mike, Vanny,’ Kerri reminded Vanessa, encouraging her client to move on.
Bren watched Vanessa melt into the crowd, but with her height and fair hair, she still stood out. Pleased that he’d accomplished what he had, he was about to turn away to go and find the Montgomerys when Kerri put a detaining hand on his sleeve.
‘Bren Selby,’ she said coolly, her coal black eyes probing his. ‘I think we both know what you’re after, with regard to Vanny. She …’ Kerri paused, pursed her lips for a second or two then decided to go on and say what she wanted to. ‘The last six months have been rough for Vanny … I don’t want her to be hurt again.’
Bren nodded that he understood the gist of her words. ‘I know about David Benedict.’
‘You do?’ Kerri didn’t disguise her surprise. She gave the man from the Australian outback another longer, appraising look, and there was a glimmer of interest in her black depths.
‘Yes. Believe me, Ms Spanos, the last thing I’d want to do is hurt Vanessa. She’s become … quite special to me.’
Kerri took his words in with a nod of her head. Her set features would have been the envy of a poker player for they betrayed nothing of her inner thoughts. ‘I accept that. But be warned, Bren, if you hurt her, I’ll do my utmost to make your life hell. And …’ she added with steely purpose, ‘with my contacts I have a reputation for being able to do that, no matter where you might be in the world.’
Bren took Kerri’s threat in his stride. He was astute enough to see that Vanessa’s agent could be a formidable enemy or she could be a valuable asset and that it would be smarter to have her on his side
than otherwise. ‘I promise you won’t have to, Ms Spanos.’
‘Good, and you can call me Kerri, Bren.’
‘Thank you, Kerri.’ He didn’t want to say anymore, he’d said enough. Intuitively she’d worked out that he was either infatuated or in love with Vanessa, so all he could hope was that she wouldn’t use what influence she had with Vanessa to cruel his chance with her. Before he could make a speedy exit someone came up to Kerri and spirited her away without so much as a backwards glance at him.
Theatricals! Watching her totter off in her stiletto heels, his mouth twisted in a cynical smile. Vanessa’s world was one he knew nothing about but he had the feeling that over the next month or so he was going to do a crash course on actors, agents and those involved in live theatre …