Voice of the Heart (12 page)

Katharine gave Kim’s sister a seraphic smile. ‘How beautifully you express it! And you’re absolutely right. In reality there is very little glamour or glitter to the theatre, despite what everyone thinks. The public see only the most obvious things, the outer trappings. Acting is the most gruelling work, the salt mines really. It’s demanding, exhausting, frustrating, nerve-racking and challenging. But I find it very satisfying. And of course I don’t deny that it does have its moments of excitement.’ There was a sparkle about her, a lovely glow. The last remnants of her tiredness evaporated in the friendly atmosphere, induced by Francesca’s warmth and sympathetic demeanour. ‘But heavens, we’re boring poor Kim with our chatter.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Kim said. He was relieved that Francesca and Katharine had taken to each other and with such spontaneity. His expression was loving as he added, ‘It’s very entertaining. Actually, I’m glad I’ve hardly been able to get a word in edgewise. Imagine how ghastly I would have felt if you two hadn’t had anything to say to each other.’ He lit a cigarette and thought: this augurs well for the meeting with Father. Francesca will help to smooth the way.

Katharine herself was patently aware of Francesca’s readiness to be friends, and she smiled inwardly, remembering her faint misgivings. How wrong she had been. Francesca was a
delight, and she felt completely relaxed in her company, conscious as she was of the other girl’s approval. And approval, above all else, was essential to Katharine Tempest.

‘Why don’t you come to the theatre on Monday evening?’ Katharine asked, wanting to pin Francesca down, her mind teeming with elaborate plans for dinner afterwards. ‘We’re always in good form after our weekend break, and it’s generally a great performance.’ She broke into laughter. ‘Having made that sweeping statement, it’s bound to be the worst show of the week!’

Francesca said, ‘I know it will be quite wonderful, and I would like to come on Monday evening, providing Father can make it. What about you, Kim?’

‘I’m definitely on! I’d love to see it again. Now, how about another glass of champagne, girls?’

‘Thank you.’ Katharine handed him her empty glass.

Francesca declined. ‘I’m all right for the moment, and I don’t want to get tiddly. I have the supper to serve, you know.’ She turned back to Katharine. ‘It must be an extraordinary experience working with Terrence Ogden. I’ve always thought he was a brilliant actor. He’s also quite the ladies’ man, isn’t he? All my girl friends have a crush on him. Is he really as divine as he looks?’

Katharine groaned to herself. She did not want to embark on a discussion of Terry’s merits as a great lover, in view of Kim’s jealous display earlier. But there was a look of such eager expectancy on Francesca’s face she did not want to disappoint or offend her by brushing the question aside in a peremptory manner. She drew nearer and dropped her voice. ‘I suppose he does have a bit of a reputation, but it’s rather exaggerated. Terry himself encourages that though. He seems to think it’s good publicity, being linked with lots of lovely ladies in the press, although I’m not so sure myself. Actually, he is very dedicated to his work. I enjoy acting with him. He’s very generous as a performer, and I’ve learned a lot from him.’

If Francesca found Katharine’s answer unrewarding, she did not show it. Her eyes rested briefly but thoughtfully on Kim, who was standing by the chest pouring the champagne, and then shifted to Katharine again. She nodded her head, as if she intuitively understood it was unwise to pursue this line of conversation. ‘Kim told me you’re an American, Katharine. Have you lived in England for a long time?’

Francesca had changed the subject, much to Katharine’s considerable relief. ‘A few years.’ There was an almost imperceptible hesitation before she volunteered, ‘I went to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art for a couple of years, before doing repertory in the provinces.’

Kim handed Katharine her glass. She looked up at him and those glorious eyes were full of tenderness as they met his. She patted the sofa. ‘Sit down, Kim darling, and let’s talk about something else. I feel as if I’ve been dominating the conversation, and I’m also getting bored with all this chit-chat about the theatre, even if you’re not.’

‘Listening to your lovely voice is music to my ears, my sweet. You could read Debrett’s Peerage to me, and I would still be entranced,’ he teased, seating himself next to her.

‘Oh phooey!’ Katharine winked at Francesca, who simply smiled with benevolence, understanding perfectly Kim’s infatuation. She knew that she herself was also rapidly falling under the girl’s spell. Let’s hope that Father will too, she mused, and discovered she wanted him to approve of Katharine just as much as Kim wanted it.

Katharine, who was intrigued by Francesca, now focused her complete attention on her. ‘I hear you’re doing research for a book, that you’re a writer. Now
that
is fascinating and I’m sure it’s just as difficult as being an actress, if not more so.’

Surprise flicked on to Francesca’s face and she shot a questioning look at Kim, who simply grinned like a Cheshire cat and then shrugged off-handedly. After a moment’s hesitation she said, ‘Yes, I’m researching, and I hope to write my book
on Chinese Gordon one day, but I wouldn’t call myself a writer. At least not yet. Ernest Hemingway said a person is not a writer until he or she has readers. So I feel I can’t possibly make that claim until I’m actually a published author.’ She took a small sip of her champagne. Wishing to avert a discussion about herself, for she was both reticent and modest about her talents, she said casually, ‘Do you think Victor Mason is still coming?’

Kim, who had entirely forgotten about Victor, immediately straightened up on the sofa and frowned. ‘I telephoned him earlier this evening to confirm, before I went to pick up Katharine. He said he would be arriving when we did.’ He stared at the ornate ormolu clock on the mantelpiece and shook his head in disbelief. ‘But we’ve been here almost an hour already. Perhaps I had better give him another buzz at the hotel.’

‘I don’t think you need bother. I’m afraid he’s notorious for being late,’ Katharine fibbed. ‘I know he’ll be here any minute.’ This last remark was said with a degree of assurance Katharine did not truly feel. Victor’s absence had been weighing heavily for some time, and she had been hoping it was merely tardiness on his part. Now she was no longer sure this was the case. She would be mortified if he did not come to supper; this could only have one meaning: He was unable to face her because he had not kept his promise to her.

She felt her throat tightening as the tension took hold of her, and although she rarely smoked, she reached for a cigarette in the silver box on the table in front of her.

Kim gave her a light and took a cigarette himself. He blew a smoke ring, peered at his sister, and said, ‘I say, I hope you haven’t got anything spoiling in the kitchen.’

‘No, I haven’t. Everything is under control, Kim. Don’t fuss so. All I have to do is light the oven when Victor gets here. Are you getting hungry, Katharine?’

‘Not really. Thank you, anyway. It always takes me a while to unwind after the performance. Shedding the part.’

‘But I’m ravenous,’ Kim announced. ‘I wouldn’t mind sampling some of that caviar, and the pâté, which you have so conveniently forgotten, Francesca.’

Laughing, Francesca rose. She, who was so beautifully mannered, had indeed forgotten the food she had intended to serve with the drinks. It was a rare lapse. She had been so fascinated by Katharine and engrossed with her, everything else had been swept out of her mind. ‘How awful of me. Please excuse me. I won’t be a minute.’ She flew out of the drawing room, her taffeta skirt crackling as she moved.

The minute they were alone, Katharine turned to Kim and, quenching her rising anxiety about Victor, she said, ‘I think your sister is really lovely.’

‘She likes you, too, I’m sure,’ Kim murmured. He moved closer to Katharine and put his arms around her, kissing her neck and her hair. ‘And that goes for me too,’ he whispered. He felt the warmth of her enveloping him, the delicate perfume of her silky skin intoxicating him, and as always when he held her like this his excitement surged in him.

‘Oh, Katharine, Katharine, I do adore you so,’ and he buried his face against her neck.

Katharine stroked the back of his fair head and returned his embrace, but she said nothing. At this moment Victor filled her mind and one thought turned endlessly against itself:
How could he have let her down?
She never broke
her
promises. Men. They were all the same. Untrustworthy. Just like her father, the bastard. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, endeavouring to obliterate the image of
him
.

After a moment, Kim drew away from her; as he looked down at her nestled in his arms he was overcome by his longing for her. He slowly lowered his mouth to hers, wanting to devour those warm lips. Katharine pushed him back, but with gentleness.

Somehow she managed to find her voice. ‘Please, Kim darling, don’t start this now. Francesca will be back any moment, and how would it look if she catches us necking
on the sofa.’ She extracted herself from his tight embrace and stood up, tugging at her skirt and smoothing her hair. ‘I’m surprised at you,’ she pronounced sternly, but the tone was soft.

Kim fell back against the cushions helplessly, groaning out loud. ‘It’s all your fault. You’re a temptress, don’t you know. And the most maddening it’s ever been my great good luck to encounter. What am I going to do with you?’

‘Nothing at the moment,’ she said. ‘But you can get me another glass of champagne.’

He grinned at her good naturedly, pushed himself up off the sofa and brought the bottle. He filled the Waterford flutes, and then eyed the empty bottle, shaking it. ‘Well, this one’s a dead soldier. I’d better put another one on ice. We’ll need it when Victor gets here.’ As he reached the door, he swung around and said, ‘If he ever turns up, that is, which I seriously doubt now. Back in a jiffy, my sweet one.’

Katharine nodded, not trusting herself to respond coherently. Kim had voiced the one fear nagging at her. She turned and rested her hand on the mantelpiece and gazed down into the fire miserably. She had been in control of her own destiny since the age of twelve. She had never relied on anyone for anything, for mistrust was paramount in her nature, and especially so when it came to men. Yet she had broken her own stringent rule and trusted Victor Mason. Damn, damn, damn, she muttered under her breath.

Francesca came in carrying a large silver tray. ‘I hope you’ll try a little of this, Katharine,’ she said. ‘I think I will.’

‘I’m not really hungry, thank you,’ Katharine answered and returned to her place on the sofa.

Francesca seated herself in the chair, and picked up a pearl-handled silver knife. She plunged it into the mound of sturgeon’s roe, so glistening and moist in the crystal dish, spread a portion on a piece of Melba toast and squeezed lemon over it. Smiling, she offered it to Katharine, who shook her head, and then handed it to Kim, who had joined them again.

‘I say, this is superb!’ Kim exclaimed, after devouring it. ‘You don’t have to bother with the cottage pie. This will do just nicely for me.’

Francesca said, ‘Try the pâté too. It’s—’ The shrilling of the door bell caused her to stop. She glanced from Kim to Katharine, arching her blonde brows. ‘Could that be our missing guest at long last?’

Katharine rose with unusual swiftness. ‘Perhaps I’d better answer the door, Kim. After all, you’ve never met Victor.’

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Katharine hissed, her eyes blazing as she confronted Victor Mason on the door step.

‘Charming welcome,’ he said, adding with a huge grin, ‘am I allowed in, or shall I be on my merry way?’

‘Of course you’re allowed in,’ Katharine cried, and fearing he was about to depart she quickly snatched at the sleeve of the trenchcoat thrown casually over his shoulders, and drew him towards her possessively.

Victor turned to his driver, who hovered on the step next to him, holding a large black umbrella over them both. ‘I guess I’ll be a couple of hours or so, Gus. That is if I don’t get thrown out on my rear end before then. You can mosey off for a while. I’ll see you later. Have fun.’ His mouth twitched. ‘But don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

‘Right you are, Mr Mason,’ Gus responded, and retreated to the car as Victor stepped inside the house.

‘Well, at least he’s stopped calling you Guv, thank heavens,’ Katharine remarked.

Victor threw her a swift, amused look, chuckled softly and said, ‘Only in front of people. When we’re alone he still calls me Guvnor. I don’t mind. In fact, I like it.’ He thrust a package at her, winked theatrically and declared ‘Beware of Italians bearing dubious gifts.’

Katharine accepted the package in grudging silence. She was not so easily placated and the tension was still flaring within her. In consequence, she was a little on edge and her patience had worn thin. There was a cold silence, during which she continued to glare at him, and then she said, ‘I thought you weren’t coming. You’re very late. Abominably late. You’ve heard of the telephone haven’t you? It’s a small
instrument that enables you to communicate between two points—’

He cut in with a throaty laugh, ‘Save me the sarcasm, honey.’ Shrugging off the trenchcoat he glanced around. ‘Where shall I put this?’

Katharine nodded in the direction of the hall cupboard. ‘In there.’ She looked down at the package she was holding. ‘What is this, anyway?’

‘A peace offering. Champagne. Pink champagne.’

‘Pink! Now I know what you mean by dubious,’ she retorted.

‘My, my, we are being gracious tonight,’ Victor said. But he did not seem in the least put out by her scathing words or her frosty manner. In fact, he appeared sanguine, and his voice was even as he said, ‘Look, honey, I’m sorry, I really am. The delay was unavoidable. I had to wait for a call from the Coast. An important business call. Come on, Katharine, give a guy a break.’

His smile was so sincere, and he sounded so genuinely apologetic that Katharine found herself smiling back at him. She was also shrewdly aware that it would be foolish to antagonize Victor, and by so doing put her assiduously-made plans into certain jeopardy. Need her he well might, but his goodwill was absolutely crucial to her, and since he had finally made an appearance her troubling doubts about him were subsiding, were replaced by the optimistic belief that he had not reneged on his promise to her. And so she softened her manner and her chameleon-like ability to present a different visage went into immediate play. The smile became infinitely more luminous and beguiling and the turquoise eyes were instantaneously veiled with affectionate fights.