Riley, page 33
She took his hand as if to lead him like a child back into the kitchen, but he pulled away from her, saying, ‘You go in. Go on, get yourself away from me.’ His voice was rough now, and she laughed gently as she went from him, leaving him yet again amazed at the coolness of her and her strength of purpose. She was dangerous. And his head was ringing with the words, It could’ve happened again. Within another minute it could have happened again. If something untoward didn’t soon take place she’d be the means of wrecking his life, his well-ordered, successful life. What had come over him? He must get home to Nyrene.
But how would he be able to take her after what he was feeling for that one? Oh, she was a devil, a real devil. No—his thoughts changed—not a devil, a siren, a beautiful young siren. It…it was her ardent youth and that exotic body of hers.
He heard cars drawing up in the street, and he thought, Oh, thank God …
But he did not have an empty flat until ten minutes past four when Lily left, saying, ‘Thank you, Peter, for the most wonderful night in my life. I only wish Johnny had been here to witness it.’
‘Thank you, Lily,’ he said, taking her hand, ‘for being the best partner any actor could have. You yourself made that show tonight.’
‘Nonsense.’
They were on the pavement now, and as he bent to kiss her cheek she took his face between her hands and shook his head, saying, ‘You’re a canny lad, and if I didn’t love my man I would love you.’
After the cab had driven away, it was then he had gone into the kitchen and vomited, and realised he couldn’t phone Nyrene, not yet anyway. He must sleep …
He would have slept on, but the continual ringing of the doorbell at twelve o’clock got him out of bed.
At the door, Larry said, ‘Come on, me boy, come on, you’re wanted.’
‘Who wants me?’
‘Lord Very, my dear boy, and our dear Miss Connie. You’re invited to lunch, and they are waiting. They both came in as bright as buttons, and I’ve had to get David up too. I seem to be the only one to have survived the night with a clear head. You can’t take it, laddie, you can’t take it. Have a shower and get yourself dressed pronto! I’ll hold them for fifteen minutes. I think it’s going to be a conclave of some kind. So put a move on.’
‘Oh, my God!’
‘That’s what I said. That’s what I said. But don’t forget he’s got a title and she’s got the money, and we are but pawns in the game. So get going.’
‘Are you invited?’
‘Strangely, yes.’
When he was dressed he said, ‘Look, I should make a phone call,’ and at this Larry, glancing at his wristwatch, said in a hoarse whisper, ‘They’ve been waiting all told more than half an hour. It doesn’t do to keep backers waiting, I’ve learnt that, so come on.’
He didn’t get back to the flat until four o’clock and during this time he had learnt that payment can be extracted in many ways for kindnesses rendered. He was the producer in this theatre because of the benevolence of Miss Connie Pickman-Blyth and if Miss Connie wanted a favour done for a friend, who is a lord, who was he to refuse to comply? And so, of course, he would see the writer of this book with which they had presented him and do his best to turn it into a drama. One consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had to pay: Larry had been given a copy too; and after glancing at the first page or so, his judgement could be gauged by his exclamation, ‘Oh my God!’
Anyway, what did it matter about the book? He had to phone. He just had to phone. What was stopping him? She wouldn’t see his face, she wouldn’t detect his feelings; no, but she would do when he got home. Well, he mustn’t go home for a day or two; he just must not go home yet. He almost jumped up from the couch and picked up the phone …
‘Hello, darling. Now listen to what I’ve got to say. First, how’s the child?’
‘Much better.’
He drew his head back from the mouthpiece…just two words, much better.
‘Look, dear. By now you will have heard of the uproarious do here last night. It went on till early morning, and I’d had nothing to eat from the previous lunchtime. I was dropping on my feet. I don’t remember going to bed, and I only came to when Larry knocked me up at noon to tell me that Miss Connie and Lord Very were waiting for me to go to lunch…it was about a new play. When I saw the time I knew I must phone you; but he harassed me, for the others were waiting. “Those who pay the piper,” Larry said, “must call the tune.” I’ve just got back; and what d’you think the lunch was about? One of Lord Very’s friends is a writer, and his novel, they imagine, would make a first-rate play. Larry’s private opinion, after he had scanned through a few pages, was, “Oh my God!” And we’ve got to pay the piper again because Very wants us to meet the author tomorrow. This will stop me from getting home, as promised. I’m so sorry, darling. But how are you, dear?’
‘Oh, I’m very well.’
‘And is he really better?’
‘Yes, he seemed to get over the worst just about the time you’d be going on stage last night.’
‘That’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Yes, I thought so too.’
‘And he’s really out of danger?’
‘Yes, the doctor says so; but I’m afraid it’s going to leave him with a very weak chest. And it’ll be some time before he fully recovers.’ She did not add, if ever.
‘Can…can he talk?’
‘Yes, although it’s more of a croak as yet, but he asked for you.’
The feeling of guilt whirled up in him, and he said, ‘That…that makes me feel awful. I know I should have been there; and it makes me feel worse knowing I’ll have to stick it out here until the weekend.’
There was a pause before she said, ‘Oh that’s all right, that’s all right. It’ll be Sunday, then, before you get back?’
‘I don’t know. There might be a late train, but you know what it’s like on a Saturday night: the audience seem to hang around. Anyway, I’ll try my best. It would mean my getting there early on Sunday morning.’
‘Don’t hurry, it’s all right.’
From her first words he realised that her tone represented her real feelings; and that she had not once used any term of endearment.
His voice rising, he said, ‘I can’t help it, Nyrene. If I was my own boss, well—’
‘Oh, I understand. Who should know better than me about the claims of the stage? But don’t worry; I am aware of the situation. Let me just say I’m glad everything went so well. The crowd brought a newspaper with them. It was a glowing report, and it seems Lily did a marvellous job.’
‘Yes, she did; quite candidly, she stole the show. Our leading lady, Miss Petula Pratt—believe me that’s her name, Petula Pratt—was slightly peeved, just slightly, but she hid it well and she, too, got a good reception.’
‘How does David feel about things?’
‘Oh, you can’t imagine; he’s over the moon. He’s like a king ruling a country, and it is his country. But he’s very fair with everyone, as always; and he’s very good to me.’
‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Well, my darling, look at the clock. I must be on my way to the dressing room, but to tell you the truth I would rather go to bed,’ but he did not add, as he might have done, with you beside me. ‘If I can ring you later, I will, darling.’
‘Don’t worry; tomorrow will do. Goodnight, dear.’
She had said goodnight, dear, not goodnight, my love, or goodnight, darling, just goodnight, dear. He put down the phone, and remained staring at it. She was angry …
About to leave the flat, he switched on the outside light, then opened the door, only to step backwards, exclaiming, ‘No!’ and for any further protest to be cut off by her saying, ‘It’s all right, dear. Don’t look so apprehensive. Put your head out of the door and you’ll see Mother is in the car.’
He did as she bade him, and he could see the Jaguar at the end of his short drive.
Yvette was saying, ‘We’re off to Greece via London.’
‘What? Oh.’ And then his next words sounded foolish even to himself: ‘You’re driving in the dark…I mean, through the night?’
‘Yes, I’m driving in the dark. I like night driving but it won’t be through the night. We’ll be at the flat by midnight, and the plane doesn’t leave till about ten tomorrow.’ She put her hand out and touched his arm, saying quietly, ‘Come and say goodbye to Mother. She so enjoyed last night, as did everyone else.’ Then her voice sinking, she said, ‘And as for us, we nearly did, didn’t we, Peter?’
‘Yvette, for God’s sake!’
And now almost grabbing his hand, she pulled him over the step, saying facetiously, ‘No, not for His sake, for mine.’
At the car, Gwendoline wound down the window and, putting out her hand, she took his as she said, ‘Thank you again, Peter, for the most wonderful evening. From beginning to end it was what they would call a—’ she glanced up at her daughter, then said, ‘a cracker. I suppose you’re feeling tired now?’
‘Yes, I am a bit.’
‘And you’ll be on stage again very shortly?’
‘Yes. Yes.’
‘Well, we won’t keep you. We’re off to Greece, you know, for three weeks. I have to get warmed up every so often so as to tolerate this climate.’
He nodded down at her but made no response. Then he straightened and watched the window move up into place before he turned to Yvette and said, ‘Have a safe journey.’
‘Oh, I will.’ She was laughing at him. ‘The gods are on my side, and tonight I’ll ask them to look after you until we meet again…shortly.’
The car did not just move away, but sprang from its standing point and sped away into the darkness. He stood on the pavement staring in the direction it had gone. She was the strangest creature; there was no-one like her. She had something. In a way, she was like a female Jekyll and Hyde, possessed of both good and evil.
No, no, not evil. With a toss of his head he dismissed the latter; it was simply an innate sort of magnetism.
On his way back to close the door, he thought, Three weeks. Thank God! It would give him time to pull himself together. He would get himself home as often as possible. He hadn’t been with Nyrene when she most needed him. She must have had an awful time with the child being so ill. He would make it up to her. Yes, he would. And when the other one came back, he’d feel strong enough then to put her in her place.
Sixteen
Riley arrived home on the Sunday shortly after lunch, having taken a taxi from the station. His stepping into the hall brought a loud exclamation of ‘Oh, Mr Riley!’ from Mrs A, who had been attending to the fire.
‘How wonderful to see you, sir. Oh my goodness! Here, give me your coat.’ She had actually run towards him. ‘You look frozen. I’ll have a hot drink ready for you in a minute. Ma’am’s upstairs.’
As she took his coat he said, ‘Thanks, Mrs A. It’s good to be back; I feel I’ve been away for years.’
‘Feels like that to us, too, sir.’
When he reached the landing he saw Nyrene coming towards him, but she didn’t run to him, nor he to her. When they met they clasped each other and he pressed her head into his shoulder as he murmured, ‘Oh, darling, darling! ’Tis good to see you.’
She said nothing, and when she raised her head they looked deeply into each other’s eyes for a moment before they kissed. Then he asked softly, ‘How is he?’
‘Oh, much better. Much better. He’s been waiting for you to come.’
As though he were a stranger, she now led him into the nursery; and there was the child propped up in bed, and on the sight of his father he cried, ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ and when the child’s thin arms went around Riley’s neck he was unable to speak: his throat was full, his eyes burning.
After a moment he laid the boy back onto his pillows, and, as if he were addressing an older person, asked, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Oh, better. I…I can talk now.’
What Riley noticed, however, was that the words came out hesitantly as if each one had to have a breath to assist it.
Nyrene was standing at the other side of the bed when she said, ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘No, but Mrs A is getting me a drink.’
‘Oh, you must have something to eat; I’ll go down and see to it.’
He wanted to say, No, no, it’s all right. Stay, I’m not hungry. The sight of the child was affecting him. The eyes that were staring at him had shrunken into their sockets, revealing a depth that was disturbing; it was the gaze of an older person, and a knowledgeable one, aware of the duplicity of his father.
He told himself not to be stupid, for what could the child be aware of? What could anyone in this house, she in particular, or any of his friends, know about him except that which he himself wished them to know? There wasn’t a soul who knew about Yvette, so why all this inward turmoil and self-recrimination?
Conscience? Yes, that was what was troubling him, his conscience. He’d had no reason to think that he possessed one until these last few months, and now it was playing hell with him.
The boy now said, ‘Are you…on holiday, Daddy?’
‘No, dear, I must go back in the morning, but I’ll have a holiday soon and then we’ll have some fun together.’
He smiled at his son, but there was no answering smile from the boy and the words, ‘Wish it was now…Daddy,’ made Riley reply quickly, ‘Well, you know, dear, I’m on the stage and if I stopped for a holiday someone would have to take my place. It’s very difficult to arrange.’
The child was staring deep into his face. He began to stroke the small thin hand that lay on his palm, but when the child suddenly said, ‘Mummy is tired,’ Riley’s fingers involuntarily gripped the hand within his for a moment. There was that look again, that look of knowledge that was beyond his age.
With the opening of the door, he turned eagerly towards it, and when he saw Hamish he gently released his hold on his son’s hand and stood up, saying, ‘Hello Hamish.’
‘Hello, Mr Peter, sir. Am I glad to see you. And…and what d’you think of our linty now?’ He pointed to the bed. ‘Don’t you think he’s a clever fellow?’
‘Yes indeed, Mac.’
‘Hello there, big fellow.’ Hamish was bending over the bed now, and the child’s face was bright as he smiled up at him, saying, ‘Hello, you yourself,’ at which they both laughed, and Hamish, glancing towards Riley, said, ‘I’m going to have a medal struck for him—a Scottish one, of course, and not a wee one, but a big one—because, to my mind, he’s the bravest and toughest linty at this end of the globe.’
The child was laughing as at a joke, and Riley knew a moment of envy of this brawny Scot because of the empathy there surely was between him and his son.
He said to Hamish, ‘Will you be staying for a minute?’
‘For a minute! Oh, I’m here for the rest of the day. Go on downstairs with you; they’re getting a meal for you. I understand it was a splendid do the other night.’
‘Yes, it went off very well, Mac, but it was tiring.’
‘Oh, undoubtedly. All hard work is tiring. But go on now and have your meal, and I’ll be second best with this young man here until you come back.’
It was a tactful way of putting it, second best, when the man knew that he himself had more knowledge of the boy than he’d ever have.
Second best. So many people had to put up with second best. But it must not happen to Nyrene. No, no, it just must not happen to Nyrene. What on earth had made him think that? He’d have to pull himself together, he really would; he must make it up to her during the short time he would be here.
She was standing by the dining table, arranging dishes, and when she said, ‘It’s only cold beef and salad; I’m sorry,’ he brought her round to him and held her by the shoulders, but the words that he should say just would not come.
Of a sudden, he pulled her towards him and, holding her tightly, he managed to say, ‘Oh, I’ve missed you, darling, I have, I’ve missed you.’
As Nyrene leant against him she thought it was odd the funny things that entered one’s mind. If he had just said, Oh, I’ve missed you, darling, but no, he had to emphasise it with, ‘I have, I’ve missed you.’ An old saying came back to her: the truth needs no emphasis. Then she told herself she must not be like this. What had happened hadn’t been his fault. He had a job to do and the stage was an exacting mistress to any man, and a hard master to a woman. It was expressed in that threadworn saying, the show must go on. Yet most of these trite sayings stemmed from a core of truth. Such as the other day, when she had seen the photos in the paper and a thought had infiltrated her mind with another cliché: there was no smoke without fire. She had chided herself for it, associating the fire with that girl, but according to Louise she was now in Greece and likely to remain there for some time. Of course, there was Lily. But oh dear, that thought was ridiculous.
He held her from him again, saying softly, ‘You look so tired, you must be worn out. Look, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. This show has two more weeks to run; I’ll let Tom take over the next one.’
She looked at him steadily for a moment or so; then quietly, she said, ‘That would be nice. I’ll look forward to it. Sit down and have something to eat, dear.’
Instead of doing as she bade him, he lowered his head to one side, saying, ‘You know something? You’ve haven’t kissed me.’
And she answered in like fashion, ‘And do you know something? You haven’t kissed me.’
He laughed. Well, I’m about to rectify that omission,’ he said, and kissed her with an ardour he certainly wasn’t feeling.
When she withdrew from him, she said gently, ‘Sit down and have your meal, and…and then I have to talk to you.’
‘Talk to me?’ He looked up at her now. ‘What do you mean, talk to me? What’s wrong?’
