Rivals (63 page)

    He put his hand on her head, briefly stroking her hair: 'We'd better go to bed, we've got an early start in the morning.'

    As Saturday wore on, Maud was increasingly in need of Declan. To fill in time, she went to the hairdressers, and even had a manicure, but her hand shook so much the manicurist had trouble getting the polish on. She also bought good luck cards for the rest of the cast, and some champagne in case by some miracle anyone came backstage to see her afterwards.

    Arriving at the theatre, she gave a gasp of terror at the huge lights on metal stands trained on the main entrance, ready to film the arriving celebrities, and huge cables running from these and from the cameras inside the theatre to a variety of OH vans. She felt even sicker at the sight of a make-up caravan, a mobile dressing-room for James, and a double-decker catering bus for the technicians.

    Even though the town hall was less than 300 yards from the Corinium Television building, union rules required all these facilities.

    Going into her dressing-room, Maud gasped again, but this time with delight, because she'd never seen so many flowers - from the family, and Rupert and Cameron, and the Verekers, and the Joneses and the Baddinghams, and so many of her friends in London. There were also scores of good luck cards, and a telex from darling Patrick in Brisbane. But so much good will made her feel even more nervous. What happened if she let them all down?

    She looked at her watch: five o'clock. She needed twenty minutes alone with the script to absorb the notes Barton had given her yesterday. Then her make-up would take an hour, by which time Declan would be here, and he could do up her dress and her jewellery and they could have a quiet hour together. But, as she tried to concentrate on the script, she was interrupted by the arrival of more and more flowers, and by Monica popping in to see if she were all right, and by Bas who'd brought her a fluffy stuffed black cat which miaowed good luck when you pressed it. Maud was enchanted.

    'And we've got time to rehearse "Love Unspoken" just once more,' she said.

    'Let's rehearse it lying down,' said Bas, who'd just come back from hunting and was feeling randy.

    'Not before a performance,' said Maud, shocked. 'I couldn't possibly concentrate.'

    'Well I'm not risking you going down on me with chattering teeth,' said Bas. 'So I'd better buzz off back to the Bar Sinister and pay the wages. We're doing a roaring pre-theatre trade.'

    As Taggie carried great saucepans of chicken Marengo in through the stage door, she could see people gathering in the foyer hoping for returns. The advance publicity and the possibility of the audience appearing on television had made it a total sellout.

    As she fell over cables and bits of scenery, she could hear, behind every dressing-room door, the cast warming up like the record department at Harrods. She felt simply terrified for her mother. Once she'd unloaded the stuff, there wasn't much to do. The puddings were cold. The salads only needed dressing and she had just to put the chicken, the mashed potato and the garlic bread in the oven to heat up.

    If the ovens were turned on low during the interval, everything would be ready, in case anyone was frightfully hungry, by the final curtain. Thank goodness Monica had provided plenty of people to help serve and wash up. As she came in with the last chocolate meringue cake, the telephone was ringing by the stage door.

    'Maud O'Hara,' shouted the doorman.

    'My mother,' said Taggie. 'Shall I take it and see if it's urgent?'

    It was.

    'Maud,' said the all-too-familiar, seductive rasp.

    'No, it's Taggie.' 'Your fucking father's missed the plane. "

    'Oh, my God, are you sure?'

    "Course I bloody am, I was on it,' snapped Cameron. 'The next one doesn't land until nine forty-five. I've arranged for a car to pick him up and bring him straight to the theatre.'

    'But M-Mummy'll die. She's been going through our leaking roof with nerves all week.'

    Tranq' her till we get there,' said Cameron. 'I've gut to change, and then Rupert and I'll be over.'

    With a sinking heart, Taggie knocked on Maud's door.

    'Declan,' said a low excited voice.

    Maud, wearing only a sliding emerald-green towel now, sat at the brilliantly lit mirror, different eyeshadows littering the shelf in front of her, as though a paintbox had been upended. She had just spent forty minutes on her eyes. Huge, gold-green, hypnotic, impossibly seductive, like two separate works of art, they seemed almost too dominant for the heart-shaped, delicately flushed face.

    'You look beautiful,' said Taggie nervously. 'And what wonderful flowers.'

    'Where's Daddy?' demanded Maud. 'He should have been here five minutes ago. Is he parking the car?'

    Taggie took a deep breath, and was almost asphyxiated by the heady smell of fuchsias and jasmine. 'I'm sorry, he missed the plane,' she said. Then, as Maud opened her mouth to scream, 'But he'll be here for the end of the last act and the party. He didn't mean to.'

    Going into hysterical sobs, Maud put her hands up to her eyes and deliberately smeared the make-up all over her face, neck and shoulders. Taggie winced. It was like seeing the Mona Lisa slashed with a razor.

    'I don't believe it,' sobbed Maud. 'He can't do this to me. The one night I need him. He did it on purpose because he was jealous. He doesn't like me having the limelight.' Her voice rose to a screech. 'I can't go on, I can't.'

    Hearing the din, Monica rushed in wearing only her petticoat with one eye made up, demanding what was the matter.

    'You must go on,' she said in a shocked voice. 'Don't be so jolly wet and selfish. They're all coming to see you.'

    'He did it on purpose,' screamed Maud, rocking backwards and forwards. 'If it had been an act of God like an engine fault or fog I could have forgiven him, or even a crash.'

    'Oh don't say that,' said Taggie, turning pale.

    'And you can shut up,' yelled Maud. 'You and your father in-just

    the same, never think of anything but your bloody work.'

    'That's jolly unfair,' said Monica.

    There was something almost obscene about Maud's daubed screaming face and neck, and her bare shoulders and breasts as the towel slipped downwards.

    Monica yanked it up round her, tucking it in, as Barton burst in. But neither Monica's rallying exhortations, nor Barton's hair-tearing, nor Charles's jokes could shift Maud. Finally they all lost their tempers and shouted at her like some operatic trio admonishing a wrong-doer, and Cameron, who'd heard a great deal too much in praise of Maud recently, was only too happy to make it a quartet when she arrived.

    'For Chrissake, Maud,' she screeched, 'you can't let the cast and the audience down. Don't be so fucking unprofessional.'

    'I'm not going on,' Maud screamed back. 'And why did Declan miss that plane?'

    'He went to see…' began Cameron, then realizing she couldn't mention Dermot MacBride in front of Monica who might tell Tony, 'to see someone very important about the franchise.'

    It was like a spark from the fire landing in a box of matches.

    Maud went berserk.

    'All he thinks about is his fucking franchise,' she screamed, her face a shuddering grotesque coloured pulp of rage and misery, and, turning on her flowers, she started to tear them apart, pulling off the heads and then the petals and throwing' them on the floor.

    'Shouldn't we slap her face?' said Cameron longingly.

    'Stop it, Maud,' said Monica angrily. 'That's wanton and destructive.'

    'I don't care,' screamed Maud, ripping apart poor Taggie's

    yellow roses.

    In despair, Taggie went out into the passage and ran slap into Rupert, who was no doubt about to add his own particularly vicious brand of invective. Behind him members of the cast and the Corinium television crew were peering curiously out of doors and round corners.

    'Where is she?' said Rupert grimly.

    'Oh, please. They're all shouting at her. They don't realize I how frightened she is.'

    Rupert paused, weighing up the options, then, like a wand fleetingly restoring her happiness, he touched Taggie's cheek with his finger: 'Go and get a large brandy, angel. I'll sort her out. Shut up the lot of you,' he yelled, as he went into the dressing-room.

    'We'll have to play the understudy,' said Barton despairingly, 'even though she's fifteen stone and about to draw her pension.'

    The floor was entirely carpeted with petals now.

    'She won't go on,' said Cameron contemptuously.

    'I'm not surprised with you lot yelling at her,' said Rupert. 'Get out, everyone.' And he slammed the door on them.

    Rupert sat down on the bed and pulling Maud into his arms, gently stroking the silken shoulders, letting her cry, until gradually the sobbing and shuddering ceased.

    'There,' said Rupert encouragingly. 'There's a brave girl.'

    'He wanted me to go to Ireland with them and play Maud Gonne,' said Maud in a choked voice.

    'I know.' Rupert went on stroking her.

    'I wanted to do it so badly, but I funked it. I didn't want to fail again, particularly in front of Cameron. I'm sure she's having an affair with Declan. I kept imagining them meeting secretly after a day's shooting, and discussing how terrible I'd been.'

    'You're a dick,' said Rupert gently.

    'Declan fell in love with me the first time he saw me acting. I wanted him to fall in love with me all over again tonight.' 'Declan adores you. He's never looked at anyone else.'

    'Then why isn't he here?' Maud's voice grew shrill again. For a second Rupert thought he'd lost her.

    'He went to see Dermot MacBride.'

    The Dermot MacBride?'

    Rupert nodded. 'He's written a new play. Declan felt if Venturer could tell the IBA we'd bought an option, it would really give us the edge.'

    Maud quivered with rage. 'I loathe the franchise,' she said

    tonelessly.

    'Declan's only obsessed with it because he sees it as the one way he'll get you out of your financial mess. You don't want to sell The Priory, do you?'

    Maud shook her head violently: 'Could it come to that?'

    'It almost has,' said Rupert.

    There was a knock on the door.

    'I don't want to see anyone,' said Maud hysterically.

    Rupert wrapped the towel round her again. But it was only Taggie with an enormous brandy for Maud and an equally huge whisky for Rupert.

    Thanks, sweetheart.' He took them from her. 'Now beat

    it,'

    Maud took such a huge gulp that she choked. Rupert didn't tell her he suspected Declan had deliberately missed the plane because his nerve had failed and he couldn't bear seeing Maud humiliated. Nor did he say that the press were howling like jackals outside and that, if she didn't go on, the publicity, with both her and Declan letting everyone down, would be devastating for Venturer.

    'I'm disappointed,' he said idly. 'I heard you practising at The Priory so often. I wanted to hear it for real, and see the others make absolute tits of themselves by comparison. Look, you've had a shock, why not get back into your jersey and jeans and finish that brandy.'

    There was a long, long pause.

    'Better not,' said Maud shakily, putting down her glass, 'or I'll start forgetting my words. I'd do better with a drop of oil to get me through all those skylarking bits.'

    Rupert said nothing, but, reaching for the huge blue tin

    of cleansing cream, he took off the lid, gouged out a white blob and very slowly began to smear it over Maud's face, blurring away the ravages.

    'How did you know to use that?'

    'I've watched enough actresses take their make-up off in my time.'

    'Most of mine's come off on you,' said Maud, suddenly contrite, as she noticed his hopelessly streaked evening shirt.

    'Treat it as war paint,' said Rupert. 'Later I'll be doing battle with Tony.'

    Docile as a child, Maud let him remove all the smeared make-up: 'You won't leave me?'

    'I'll stay with you the entire evening, but I have to admit making up your face is beyond even my skills.'

    Outside, Barton looked at his watch for the hundredth time. It was ten past seven. The press were howling for a decision. The understudy was already changed. If only he could make an announcement that the performance was starting late at least it would keep the audience happy.

    'If she weren't going on,' said Cameron, 'Rupert would have come and told us.'

    'He was always good at boxing difficult horses,' said Bas, who had changed into his stage clothes and was now raring to go in and comfort Maud.

    As her door opened, everyone surged forward. Coming out, Rupert put a. finger to his lips, then made a thumbs up sign: 'Has anyone got any eyedrops?'