Herb ran a hand over his balding head.
“But why did the teacher say it was a fib? Surely she must have had some basis for making such an accusation.”
Caroline had peeled a potatoe with a vengeance. “That’s just it. She had no reason, except that she claimed the other child had been, as she put it, ‘more reliable’. More reliable. More reliable, indeed.” She threw the potatoe into the pot.
“I knew this would happen.” Her husband sat wearily at the kitchen table. “It’s just what I was afraid of.”
Caroline remembered, even now, her surprise. “You knew what would happen?” Her tones had been as sharp as the paring knife she held. “Just what, such a terrible what, has happened?”
“It’s just—,” Herb’s little mouth stretched, searching for words, “she’s too young for such an atmosphere, such competition. They’re at each other tooth and nail, these babies, on stage and even off. There was that incident when Margot and that other little girl were found fighting back stage, physically fighting, and had to be pulled apart. Each claimed the other had slapped her. A fine thing, a little lady her age involved in a brawl. I tell you, Caroline, my mind’s made up. We’re going to stop this thing before it goes too far.”
Caroline had stood very still, kept her voice controlled. “You’re mistaken, Herb. We’re going to stop nothing. She’s just beginning to get someplace. And you’re not going to throw a monkey wrench into the works.”
Herb had drawn himself up to his full five-foot-six. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I know how much pleasure you gain from it. But I am Margot’s father — and I say she is going to quit.”
And then she had called a halt to it. She hadn’t wanted to, but she’d had to. “And do you know why you’re her father — do you? Because you would marry me. You were available and I accepted you. Not because I wanted you, heaven knows I didn’t, but because I wanted a child. That’s all. And that’s the truth. Margot was the answer to my prayer,” she had stood over him then, the paring knife still in her hand, “and before I’d allow you to ruin her life, I’d... I’d,” she drew in her breath and hissed, “I’d kill you.”
She looked up then to see Margot in the doorway and after searching her daughter’s face to read her reaction, Caroline decided she was glad that she had heard.
That had been the last obstacle. From then on the sailing had been more or less smooth. In the three years that had passed Margot had, to be sure, lost a few auditions, but she had appeared in two long-run productions and gotten excellent notices.
And now — today — she was to audition for the juvenile plum of the year. The part of “Kathy” in “The Changling”.
Caroline had explained the part. Slowly and carefully. “This little girl is, on the surface, a lovely little angel. But inside she is capable of anything, anything to get what she wants. Do you understand?”
Margot had watched her with wide eyes, nodded her shining head.
“So you must remember to contrast the lines. When Kathy is with other people she is sweet, charming, an old-fashioned tintype of a child. When she is alone, she is capable of the worst sort of violence.”
Margot had smiled, such a beautiful smile, such perfect teeth, jumped up and kissed her mother. “Oh, Mummy, you’re such a help to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” And then they’d hugged each other and Caroline had answered fervently, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Caroline looked down at her now, the sedate little figure sitting beside her on the straight chair. Of all the children grouped around them, none could compare to Margot. Of that she was sure. She sat back and watched the try-outs with a professional eye.
When it was all over they took a cab home by way of celebration. “Not a one of them could hold a candle to you, darling. You’ll be magnificent as Kathy and unless I miss my guess this is the sort of thing the movies will pick up. Just think, Margot, we’ll go to Hollywood and you’ll be a move star!” She kissed the top of her head. “My own little Shirley Temple. Just imagine!”
It was the next morning when the news came. She twinkled at Margot as she answered the phone. “Yes, this is the residence of Margot Parks.” They had thought it wise to change Pincher to Parks. And then to Margot, “It’s them. It’s they. Oh dear,” and she giggled. “Yes. Yes, we’re available.” They had long ago abandoned the agent. He had turned out to be third rate. “Yes... oh, I see.” Her words were slower now, the twinkle had gone. “Yes. Of course.” She tried to make her tone pleasant again. “Certainly. We’re delighted. Monday at ten. Of course. We’ll be there. Thank you. Thank you, very much.”
“We got the part, Mama? We got the part. Oh, I know we did, Mama. We got the part.” And Margot began a wildly graceful series of pirouettes.
Caroline clutched the door jamb. “Stop it, Margot. And stop saying ‘Mama’ in that ridiculous way. Stop it. Now.”
Margot halted on one toe, her blue eyes enormous. “But... they want us at rehearsal. So we did get the part. What—”
Caroline sank into a chair. “Vivian Maynard got the part. You’re her... understudy.”
Margot wrinkled her smooth young brow. “Understudy!”
Caroline could only nod.
Margot stamped her tiny foot. “Well, I won’t, I tell you. I won’t! That’s as good as being dead and buried, and I won’t do it.”
“That’s what I thought at first, baby. I almost told them to get somebody else. But then I remembered — if anything ever happened to Vivian, you’d still get your big chance.”
Margot’s pretty pink mouth drooped in a pout. “You know nothing will happen to Vivian. She’s as strong as a horse. And looks like one as well.”
Caroline sighed, reached out to gather her in. Margot moved away.
“You must have told me to do it wrong. They didn’t like my interpretation and I did just what you told me. You coached me wrong. It’s all your fault!”
Caroline’s mouth dropped open and she stared at the gold and pink package of fury confronting her.
“Margot,” she said and stopped. Her pale eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”
They stared at each other, mother and daughter, and then Margot let out an anguished cry, turned on her patent leather heel and ran from the room. Caroline heard her door slam in agony. Margot stayed there the rest of the day. Caroline suffered.
But by Monday morning the world had turned right-side-up. They went, in harmony, to rehearsal and Margot behaved exactly right with just the right amount of deference for Vivian Maynard. Caroline breathed a sigh of relief and began a series of daily prayers.
“Measles. Or a broken arm. Nothing too serious, please. Just enough to keep her out of the play for awhile. Please. I know Margot’s future was plotted in the stars. I know something will happen. Because Margot was born to be a star.”
She was very sure, but as first night opening drew near it seemed as though the gods had forsaken them. Vivian bloomed in the part. She played it in a much lower key than Caroline would have preferred, but Al Peters, the director, seemed absurdly pleased. Margot didn’t seem to care — at all.
And then — bolt from the blue — it happened. At dress rehearsal. Peters was struggling with a difficult bit between husband and wife that had never come off well. Vivian had gone to her dressing room and Margot was sitting quietly in the wings, watching. Caroline took the opportunity to go to the ladies’ room and freshen her face.
She was just coming out when she heard it. A shrill childish scream, starting out full-bodied and thinning as it rose up and up. It ended in a crash, a thump, and dead silence. Then there was movement from all around. People ran from the stage, from the dressing rooms above. And, while Caroline stood rooted, there were more screams.