The Joys of Love (9 page)

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Authors: Madeleine L'engle

BOOK: The Joys of Love
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“Okay. Don't say I didn't warn you, see,” Joe told Dottie. “Come on, Sophie. Say goodbye to your friends and let's go.”
“Goodbye, Liz and Ben.” Sophie's voice was suddenly a little wistful. “I—I'll miss you. Say goodbye to Bibi and Jane and John Peter and the others for me.”
“Goodbye, Sophie,” Elizabeth said. “Good luck. And thanks for helping me out.”
“That's okay.”
“Maybe we'll see you in the casting offices in New York,” Ben said.
Sophie turned to Dottie. “Goodbye, Dottie. I'm awfully glad to have met you.”
Without looking up, Dottie addressed her envelope. “Goodbye, Soapie. See you at supper.”
Ben and Joe raised their eyebrows and grinned at Elizabeth.
“If Dottie concentrated when she's acting the way she does when she's writing love letters,” Ben said, “the theatre would benefit greatly.”
Joe picked up Sophie's bags. “Come on, kiddo. Ben, I'll see you after dinner.” He went out, pulling Sophie after him.
“And the sad part of it is,” Ben said, “that no one's even going to know she's gone.”
“She couldn't have picked a better time or a better way.” Elizabeth's face shone with relieved pleasure. “Thank goodness some people have money. Now I can see Miss Andersen every night next week!” And I can have another week with Kurt, she added in her mind.
“Do you think Half Price will let you stay on Soapie's dough?” Ben sounded worried.
“I don't see why he shouldn't. And if I can stay next week, maybe I can figure out a way to stay on a bit longer—” she broke off, flushing, as Kurt bounded in with a graceful leap.
“Kurt!” Elizabeth ran over to him but stopped herself short from flinging her arms around him. “Are you going to help us rehearse this afternoon?”
“Of course, Liebchen. That's what I came over for.”
“Oh, Kurt, I can stay another week—I thought I was going to have to leave tomorrow.”
“Her sainted aunt has stopped paying room and board,” Ben said.
“But Soapie's just left and has already paid for the week! And she said that I could use it!”
“The theatre has claimed you, Liebchen. It would be terrible
to have you ripped from its arms so violently.” He touched her cheek and smiled. “Where is everybody?”
“Ditta's got students visiting here this afternoon, so she can't come. I think Jane and John Peter are upstairs. I'll go get them,” Elizabeth said. As she turned toward the stairs, Kurt pirouetted across the room toward Dottie. Elizabeth paused on the landing and watched him lean over Dottie, running his fingers through the fountain of blond hair, and was amazed at the rage that welled up in her. Dottie frequently cuddled up to Kurt; Dottie frequently cuddled up to every man in the company. Elizabeth pushed her fingers viciously through her hair, in anger at her anger.
“Looks like you'll have to tear Kurt away from Dottie if he's going to help us,” Ben said.
“I'll tear him.” A gleam came into Elizabeth's eyes. She started to go upstairs but paused again as the screen door creaked open and Huntley Haskell peered in. He was almost as nearsighted as Elizabeth but refused to wear glasses; he was handsome in a rather dissipated, puffy way, and Elizabeth liked him because he liked her as well, and because, on the first day of the season, he had decided that Dottie was his own particular piece of property; and that was something for which Elizabeth was frequently grateful.
“Have you seen Dottie?” he asked now. “Oh, hi, honey. There you are.”
“Hello, lamb. Rehearsal over?” Dottie drawled lazily, stretching herself to best advantage on the faded chintz of the couch. “What do you want?”
“Andersen wants you onstage. She's not in too good a mood,” Huntley said.
Dottie stretched again. “The old slave driver. I don't see why I should run at
her
beck and call. I bet they wouldn't even have her out in Hollywood.”
Elizabeth came down a few steps. “She's a magnificent actress.”
“Valborg Andersen? Oh, I don't know about that,” Dottie said, winking at Kurt.
“Well, I do.” Elizabeth was fierce as an angry puppy.
Kurt ran his fingers through Dottie's hair again and said to Elizabeth, “Okay, Liebchen. Calm down.”
“Don't take hysterics,” Ben added, winking at her and putting on a strong Brooklyn accent.
Dottie leaned lovingly against Kurt and looked up through her eyelashes at Huntley. “She's going to be a letdown next week after Sarah Courtmont.”
Elizabeth's voice cracked with rage. “That superficial, insincere—”
“Liz, don't let them egg you on,” Ben said.
Kurt put his hands under Dottie's arms and raised her off the sofa. “You'd better run along, angel face.”
“I'm going up to powder my nose first,” Dottie said. “Huntley pet, go and tell her I'll be right over, will you? And I'm not egging you on, Liz. I don't like neurotic actresses like Andersen. Courtmont's the gal I like to work with.”
Elizabeth came downstairs and turned to Ben. “Which scene are we doing this afternoon?” she asked in a frigid voice.
“We got to where Nina comes back in the last act. Hey, Dottie, shout upstairs at John Peter and Jane to come down when you go up to powder your nose, will you?”
“And you'd better hurry,” Huntley called as he slammed the screen door.
Dottie walked slowly over to the staircase, swinging her hips provocatively. “I'll shout at 'em for you. Though why you want to waste time like this I don't know. And you, too, Kurt. What's in it for you?”
“The future,” Kurt said. “It isn't any waste of time for me. These kids are good, aren't you, kids? Price isn't giving them too good a deal on their summer, so if I can give them anything extra it's my pleasure. And my investment.”
Dottie started upstairs. “Chekhov.
The Seagull.
You can have 'em.”
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said. “We will. And thanks, Kurt.” Her voice softened as she turned to him. “You know how much it means to us to have you work with us.”
Ignoring Ben's ill-concealed snort, Kurt said, “What do you want to start with?”
“Jane does Nina's part, so would you read Masha's first scene with me till Jane and John Peter get here?”
“Sure,” Kurt said. “Give me the script.”
Ben glared up the stairs after Dottie's disappearing figure. “That dame. The way she thinks a few stinking pictures give her the right to put on airs gives me a pain in the posterior.”
“Dottie's got a big career ahead of her,” Kurt said.
“Yeah.” Ben nodded sagaciously. “But not as an actress.”
“Listen,” Kurt said, the easygoing humor momentarily
gone from his voice. “You kids have got to stop thinking you know so much. You're not as good as all that. It's okay for you to talk now when everything's still ahead of you, but wait until you've been around a few years longer and really come up against it. Then maybe you'll think more of people like Dottie.”
“Come on. Let's forget Dottie and start to work,” Elizabeth said. “Come on, Kurt.”
Ben curled up on Dottie's vacated sofa to watch. Elizabeth sat down on a folding chair, leaned her elbow on a small rickety table, and placed her head on her hand. To Ben, watching, it was amazing how with a brief gesture she stopped being Elizabeth Jerrold and became the bitter young woman in Chekhov's play, always a little drunk so that she never actually seemed drunk, but so that one knew there was something strange about her; always darkly intense, passionate.
“‘Why do you always wear mourning?'” Kurt read from the play.
“‘I dress in black to match my life. I am unhappy.'” The extravagant words seemed inevitable and right as Elizabeth spoke them.
“‘Why should you be unhappy? I don't understand it.'” Kurt put the same overemphasis into his reading that often marred his acting.
Dottie called as she ran down the stairs, “John Peter and Jane aren't around.” She ran across the room, tying a bright wraparound cotton skirt over her white sharkskin shorts, and slammed out the door.
“They must be at the beach with their recorders,” Ben said.
“It's not fair of them to be late like this!” Elizabeth cried.
“We can do plenty without them,” Kurt said easily. “‘Why do you always wear mourning?'”
“Oh, Kurt, I can't just bounce in and out of it like that.”
“Okay,” Kurt said. “Ready now?” He cleared his throat, then asked again, “‘Why do you always wear mourning?'”
“‘I dress in black to match my life. I am unhappy.'”
This time it was the screen door slamming on Bibi that jarred Elizabeth out of Masha. Bibi came rushing into the room, swirling the skirts of her pink-and-white dotted swiss dress, and screeched, “Did you know Sophie's gone?”
“Yes,” Ben snapped. “And we're working.”
“When did you find out?” Bibi persisted. “My goodness, I can't believe I'm one of her roommates and she never said a word about it. She didn't even mention it at breakfast. Did she tell you or Jane, Liz?”
“No. We just happened to see her leave,” Elizabeth said patiently. “She said to say goodbye.”
“Oh, listen, don't set a place for me, Liz. I'm going out.” Bibi flitted from thought to thought as quickly as a mosquito.
“I already have.”
“Oh, I'm sorry. I meant to tell you sooner, but I forgot.”
“Don't mention it.”
“Anyhow, you've got the tables set awful early today.”
“Who're you going out with?” Kurt asked.
“Oh, Jack. Do you know what I've been doing?”
Ben yawned. “Don't know, don't care.”
“I've been watching the rehearsal of
Macbeth
.”
“What!”
Elizabeth and Ben pounced on her.
“You wouldn't've if I'd been around,” Ben said. “How did you sneak in?”
“I didn't sneak in at all,” Bibi exclaimed in righteous indignation. “I went to Mr. Price and he gave me special permission.”
“Some people—” Ben started, and shut his mouth tight.
“He wouldn't give
me
special permission,” Elizabeth said grimly.
“You just don't know how to handle him right, Liz. I can wind Mr. Price around my little finger. Anyhow, he couldn't let
all
the apprentices watch rehearsal, could he? And Miss Andersen's in a rage at Dottie,” Bibi added with importance.
“Why?” Kurt raised one of his dark, flexible eyebrows.
“Because she wasn't there when they came to Lady Macduff's scene. Gee, I think Miss Andersen's wonderful. She let me go get coffee for her again and she made me buy some for myself, too. I don't blame you for having that big picture of her on your bureau, Liz. I'm going to get her to give me one next week and ask her to autograph it. She was so mad at Dottie. Do you think Dottie's a good actress?”
“My opinion of Dottie's acting is not fit to print,” Elizabeth said.
“Listen”—Bibi lowered her voice—“why do you suppose Sophie left?”
“She couldn't keep up with your conversation,” Ben said. “Look, Bibi, didn't I tell you we were trying to work? If you're going out for dinner, you'd better go get ready.”
“Okay, okay, I guess I'll go up and change now. This dress is kind of wrinkled. Gee, I've got a lot of stuff to send to the
laundry this week. One good thing about Soapie leaving is that I'll have the closet all to myself. Will you call me if Jack comes before I'm ready, Liz?”
“Yes, I'll call you.” Elizabeth sighed heavily as Bibi went upstairs.
“Not much above the eyebrows,” Kurt said, and put his arm about Elizabeth's waist. “‘Why do you always wear mourning?'”
Ben came over to them. “I don't like to interrupt you again, Kurt, but I guess one more interruption more or less won't make a difference. Listen, Liz, you know Nina's lines in that last scene as well as Jane does, don't you?”
“Mm-hm. I've been kind of working on her a bit by myself. And I love
The Seagull
so much I think I know the whole thing by heart.”
“Well, do that bit with me, will you? I don't think John Peter and Jane are going to turn up this afternoon, drat their hides, and I want to go over the scene at least once. I've thought out a couple of new things I want to try.”

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