Voice of the Heart (65 page)

‘You’re incorrigible, Katharine.’ Terry shook his head.

‘Pooh, I know I am.’ She smiled at him prettily, for all the world like a mischievous child. ‘But sometimes it’s fun to be incorrigible. And I did get the desired results, didn’t I?’

‘Yes. And what if Hillard had spoken to Victor first? Then where would you have been?’

Katharine gave him the benefit of a withering look and
said, her tone scathing, ‘You don’t know Hilly Street very well. He would
never
tip his hand like that. I was
positive
he would approach you immediately, that he would try to cut Victor out, and he was true to form.’ She shrugged. ‘Elementary psychology, my dear Watson.’

‘Quite so, Holmes, quite so,’ Terry responded, taking her cue, amusement tugging at his mouth. He lit a cigarette, observing her through slightly narrowed eyes. There were those who might consider that Katharine had been cunning and conniving.
He
preferred to think of her dealings with Hillard Steed in less derogatory terms, attributing them to an inveterate shrewdness rather than any form of devious-ness. Although this was not the first occasion she had displayed her inimitable brand of astuteness, again he was startled, as he had been in the past. Perhaps this was because her looks belied her intelligence, which he knew to be considerable, as did her air of childlike
naïveté
, never more pronounced than it was this morning.

Katharine filled the teapot with hot water, and asked, ‘Another cup, Terry?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ He watched her closely, his eyes evaluating. She was wearing a tailored white shirt of fine cotton voile and a navy blue cotton skirt. Both were simple, demure, could only be described as schoolgirl clothes. In point of fact, she did not look much older than sixteen at this moment. A line of Petruchio’s flew into his mind:
Yet sweet as springtime flowers
. Yes, that was the impression she made today, with her chestnut hair falling in tumbling waves to her shoulders, her eloquent face sparkling fresh, entirely devoid of makeup except for the bright red lipstick she generally favoured, and her eyes so brilliantly alive. A bonny Kate indeed, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, he thought, borrowing from Shakespeare again. But no shrew was she. Just the opposite, for there was a vulnerability about her, a poignancy in her that always tugged at his heartstrings. Yet he knew she had a will of iron, a terrifying
self-sufficiency and great tenacity. Perhaps this duality in her personality was the secret of her extraordinary appeal, for it gave her an elusive quality that was intriguing. Once, months back, he had seriously toyed with the idea of sweeping her off the stage, off her feet—both literally and figuratively—and into his bed smartly. But suddenly he had wavered and ultimately he had changed his mind. He was not sure why he had done so, and the moment had passed and he had never felt the impulse again. It no longer mattered. Hilary, his own true love, had come back to him, bringing him priceless gifts of adoration and understanding and belief, making him a whole and complete man once more. Giving meaning to his life.

‘You’re looking terribly serious. Is something wrong, Terrence?’

‘No, Puss.’ A gentle smile, and then, ‘Just wool-gathering, that’s all.’

Katharine returning his smile, took a sip of her tea, put the cup down and said slowly, ‘What about… Hilary?’

How much had she guessed? He felt himself stiffening but he asked casually enough, ‘What about Hilary?’

‘How did she react when she heard about your contract and that you’re leaving for California shortly?’

‘She was overjoyed. She believes that only by going to Hollywood can one truly become an international movie star. And you know Hilary, she only ever wants the best for her friends.’

‘Yes, she’s a lovely person.’ Katharine shifted in the chair, and glanced out of the window. She had been about to remark that Hilary would miss him, but she swallowed these words. Despite their new closeness, there were still some lines she was afraid to cross. There was an imperious-ness in Terry, an aloofness that sprang from his natural reserve, held him apart, forbade familiarity of a certain nature. As an actor he was nonpareil, particularly with his brilliant and stunning interpretations of Shakespearean roles, and she was for ever
conscious of his prominence and standing in the English theatre, of the reverence in which he was held by his peers, and not unnaturally these considerations served as a further restraint. After a second, Katharine swung her gaze back to him, and asked, ‘And Norman? What did he say?’

‘Aha! Good old Norman! He’s on top of the world for me, of course. And very excited. I’m taking him with me to California, and Penny too; they’re so devoted and loyal, I couldn’t leave them behind. They’re going to be looking after me in their usual loving way. Apart from continuing to be my dresser, Norman’s also agreed to try his hand at being my secretary, and he’ll do a bit of driving. I suppose you could say he’ll be my major domo, or general factotum, whatever,’ Terry grinned. ‘Penny will run the house, a sort of unofficial housekeeper. You see, I’ve decided to rent a place for a couple of years. Hilly thinks Monarch will be able to find something suitable for me, either in Beverly Hills or Bel-Air.’ He stubbed out his cigarette and finished, with a lilt in his voice, ‘I’m really looking forward to this move across the Atlantic. The timing is exactly right, in more ways than one. Do you know where you’ll be camping out, Puss?’

‘Originally Victor was thinking of a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel for me. But then he changed his mind. I think I’ll be staying at the Bel-Air Hotel. He seems to prefer that. I’m not sure why.’ Katharine bent closer. ‘Oh darling, it’s going to be great fun being there together. We
will
have some fun, won’t we?’ she cried.

‘Yes, course we will, love.’ Terry was thoughtful for a moment, then he remarked, ‘He’s awfully deceptive, isn’t he?’

‘Who is?’ she asked with a tiny frown. ‘Victor Mason.’

‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

‘On the surface he seems to be very easygoing, but he’s not really. Victor runs a tight ship, and he’s tough. Bloody hard-headed actually. Lately I’ve seen him lock horns with
Mark Pierce more than once, and it’s not always about the spiralling costs, or the budget, even though money does preoccupy him. He wants things done his way. I suspect there’s a bit of the tyrant in Victor, in spite of his lazy, effortless charm.’

‘You’re right,’ Katharine said, ‘but let’s not forget that he’s the producer, as well as the star. He’s only being professional.’

‘I
know
that, love, and I wasn’t being critical. I was merely making a few observations, and anyone who underestimates him is a downright fool. Victor’s a damn sight smarter than one expects him to be. And I like him; he’s been pretty decent to me on the picture. Incidentally, talking about your admirers, how does his lordship feel about your impending departure for distant shores?’

Ignoring the innuendo, Katharine said, ‘Kim was a little startled when I first told him, but he’s accepted it now, and I’ll only be gone a few months.’

‘Oh,’ Terry said, taken aback. ‘I hadn’t realized that. I thought Victor would have another film lined up for you, after the Beau Stanton comedy’s finished.’

‘He hasn’t mentioned anything, so I’m sure there’s nothing special on the horizon.’

Terry looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to be leaving, Puss. I have an interview with Estelle Morgan in about ten minutes, and afterwards I’m obliged to take her to lunch. That’s another reason I popped in to see you. I’d like you to join us.’

‘Oh dear, I don’t think I should, Terry. I know Estelle wouldn’t like it. I’m sure she’ll want to be alone with you.’

‘But I don’t want to be alone with her,’ Terry declared. ‘That’s the problem. She makes me frightfully nervous. I keep thinking she’s going to pounce on me at any moment.’ He grimaced and rolled his eyes. ‘A very predatory lady, our Estelle. Be a good sport, say yes.
Please
, Puss.’

Katharine’s laughter filled the room and she regarded
him through merry eyes. ‘Don’t be such a scaredy cat. She’s harmless, and anyway, you’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself.’ But noting the plea on his face, she capitulated. ‘Oh, all right, I’ll come and protect you. But I don’t want to be there for the interview. Now
that
she
would
regard as an intrusion. She doesn’t like an audience when she’s interviewing a subject, and I have to respect her point of view. She’s right really. Shall we say one o’clock?’

Terry exhaled a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks, Puss. And one o’clock’s fine. In the bar. That’s where we’re doing the interview, so I’ll—’ Terry paused, his eyes swivelling to the shrilling telephone.

Katharine ran to answer it. ‘Hello, Norman,’ she cried. ‘Yes, he’s here. Just a minute, love.’ She turned to Terry, beckoned to him. He strode over and took the telephone from her, and Katharine returned to her chair. Leaning back, she closed her eyes, listening. Terry had one of the greatest voices on the English stage today, and distinctively his. How many actors had tried to imitate it and failed miserably? Hundreds.

Her lids lifted and she looked more closely at that refined face and at the light blue eyes, so open and guileless. A shiver ran through her and gooseflesh speckled her arms. Terry was such easy prey for the unscrupulous. She was glad Norman and Penny were going with him to Hollywood. They would give him protection. Her gaze pulled back a fraction, and then roved over him swiftly. He was wearing dark grey slacks, a navy blue blazer and a white turtle neck sweater. Tall and lean, he looked casually elegant and debonair. The matinée idol personified, she thought. He would be a sensation in the States, of that there was no doubt in her mind.

Terry said goodbye, dropped the receiver in the cradle, and asked, ‘Why the long stares, Puss? Don’t I look all right for the interview? Should I change, put on a tie?’

Katharine shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly, your clothes
are perfect. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sit here and scrutinize you like an insect under a microscope. Actually, I was thinking of the impact you’ll have in Hollywood. You’re going to bowl them over with your talent and your looks. As Victor would say, you’re the whole enchilada, my darling.’

Terry laughed. ‘And as Hamlet would say, “season your admiration for a while”. I’m glad
you
like my togs. Hilary thinks I look like a German U-boat commander in them!’ He stepped to the door, swung around. ‘I’m going to give a small luncheon tomorrow, at the Red Lion in South Stainley, the marvellous old inn I was telling you about. I’ve invited a few of my close chums in the cast. None of them know about the Monarch contract, but it’s bound to leak out in a few days. So, I thought I’d tell them myself, and it’s a good excuse for a little celebration. We’ll have a real English Sunday lunch, the kind I’ve been promising you since we’ve been here. You know, Yorkshire pud, roast beef and horseradish, roast potatoes and brussels sprouts, the lot. And trifle afterwards. Will you come, Puss? With Kim, of course. And look, bring Francesca along if you want.’

‘Why, Terry, how lovely. Thanks, we’d love to come, and I’ll ask Francesca when she gets here. I’m expecting her in a few minutes.’

‘Good. And
I’ll
be expecting
you
in about an hour. Don’t let me down.’ He opened the door and almost collided with Francesca. ‘Sorry, love.’

‘That’s all right, Terry. How are you?’ Francesca asked.

‘Fine and dandy, but late for an appointment.’ He opened the door and let her pass. ‘Toodle-oo,’ he said, waved, and disappeared down the corridor.

Francesca closed the door and came into the room, a striking picture in buff-colour riding breeches, highly-polished black boots, a pink cotton shirt and red silk cravat. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a pony tail and caught at the nape of her neck with a black bow, and her peaches-and-cream complexion looked more perfect than ever. A
shopping basket was slung over one arm and she was carrying a large bunch of flowers.

‘Hi, darling,’ Katharine exclaimed, her face wreathed in smiles as she came to meet Francesca. She kissed her on the cheek and went on, ‘I’m so glad you ’phoned.’

Francesca returned her kiss. ‘And hello to you too, stranger,’ she laughed gaily. ‘These are for you. I picked them in the gardens at Langley this morning.’

‘How sweet of you, darling. Thank you so much.’ Katharine took the flowers, buried her face in them. ‘They smell divine. I’d better put them in water immediately. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable. Do you want coffee, or a drink? I can order something from room service.’

‘No, thanks anyway.’ Francesca put the shopping basket on the floor and flopped into one of the chairs. ‘Since I had to come into Ripon, to get a few things for Melly, I thought I might as well stop by for a few minutes.’

‘I’m so glad you did,’ Katharine called from the bathroom. She returned to the sitting room a moment later, carrying a vase of water, and stood by a side table, arranging the flowers in it. ‘I’ve missed you, Frankie.’

‘I know. I’ve missed you too, Kath. Gosh, I see more of you in London than I do when you’re here on location.’

‘Isn’t it stupid! But Mark has been working us awfully hard. He likes to rehearse every scene like a play, not wing it.’ She stepped back, regarding her handiwork, her head on one side, and then rearranged a few blooms. ‘There, that does it.’

‘It
is
going well now, though, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, everyone’s terribly pleased,’ Katharine responded, adopting an off-handed air, not wanting to discuss the film, which had been troubled from the start. She joined Francesca near the windows. ‘Kath…’ Francesca said, ‘come and sit down. I have something to tell you.’

‘You sound excited.’ Katharine gave her a curious look and lowered herself into the chair opposite.

‘Well, yes, I am.’ Francesca’s face was eager with happiness. ‘Daddy and Doris have decided to get married.’

Katharine blanched. ‘But… but… How marvellous…’ She faltered and stared at Francesca blankly, at a loss for words.