‘I think it’s coming together,’ Jude replied cautiously.
‘And is Olly keeping you busy as prompter?’
‘Still a little ragged on the lines,’ Carole was forced to admit.
Elizaveta smiled indulgently on the young man under discussion. ‘Yes, you always go for the approximate approach, don’t you, Olly? I remember you were all over the place as Lysander in Freddie’s Dream.’
‘It didn’t matter,’ said Olly gallantly. ‘No one in the audience had eyes for anyone except your Titania.’
‘And Freddie’s Oberon,’ said Elizaveta in gentle reproof.
‘Oh yes, of course.’
‘And our doubling, me also playing Hippolyta and Freddie giving his Theseus.’
‘Yes, they were all splendid,’ said Olly.
‘There was a very good production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the RSC last season,’ Jude volunteered.
‘Really?’ Elizaveta Dalrymple dismissed the idea. For her theatre began and ended with the SADOS. No stage other than St Mary’s Hall was of any significance. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘it doesn’t matter so much, I suppose, if Olly’s paraphrasing George Bernard Shaw’s lines. They are at least in prose. But with Shakespeare’s blank verse it was a complete disaster.’
Olly grinned winsomely, as if already enjoying the chastisement he was about to receive.
‘“Doesn’t the boy have any sense of rhythm?” Freddie kept asking. “How can anyone have such a tin ear for the beauties of blank verse?”’ Elizaveta laughed and the others joined in, Olly as heartily as anyone. ‘He did try to help you, didn’t he?’
‘Oh yes,’ Olly agreed. ‘Freddie was always so generous with his time and his talent.’
‘He was.’ Elizaveta let out a nostalgic sigh. ‘And of course Freddie was a wonderful verse speaker.’ Everyone mumbled endorsements of this self-evident truth, as she focused a beady eye on Olly. ‘So, will you know your Devil’s Disciple lines by the first night?’
‘Of course I will. Sheer terror will keep me going.’
‘Oh yes. When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.’
The coterie greeted Elizaveta’s latest bon mot with more laughter, unaware that she was quoting Dr Johnson. Then she turned sharply to Jude and asked, ‘How’s Davina doing?’
‘Doing in what way?’
‘As a director, of course.’
‘Well, she seems to be … fine.’ Jude wasn’t sure what kind of answer was expected. ‘I mean, obviously her plans were all disrupted by what happened to Ritchie, but she seems to have managed to regroup and … As I say, everything’s fine.’
‘Hm.’ Elizaveta Dalrymple managed to invest the monosyllable with a great deal of doubt and suspicion. ‘Of course, Freddie and I taught her everything she knows.’
‘In the theatre?’
‘Oh yes. Hadn’t an idea in her head when she started in amdram. Freddie sort of took her under his wing. And she’s developed into quite a nice little director. But I’m not sure how this Devil’s Disciple is going to go.’
‘As I said, I think it’ll be fine.’
Another loaded ‘Hm.’ Elizaveta looked across to where Olly Pinto was deep in flirtatious chatter with Mimi Lassiter and the two old ladies. Then she moved closer to Jude and started to whisper.
Carole felt awkward. She wasn’t quite near enough to hear and she didn’t know whether she was meant to be included in the conversation. Rather than moving closer, she shifted nearer the window, as if suddenly fascinated by the movement of shipping beyond Smalting Beach.
‘At least,’ Elizaveta whispered fiercely at Jude, ‘from Davina’s point of view, she’ll be better off with Olly as Dick Dudgeon than she would have been with Ritchie.’
‘Oh?’
‘Bit of bad blood between her and Ritchie. She thought he was keen on her, which he certainly appeared to be. But when she suggested taking the relationship further, he dropped her like a brick.’
Par for the course with Ritchie Good, thought Jude.
‘And Davina didn’t like that at all. Hell hath no fury … you know the quote. No, Davina would have done anything to remove Ritchie from her production of The Devil’s Disciple.’
TWENTY-FIVE
As they walked to the Renault from Elizaveta Dalrymple’s front door, Jude quickly told her neighbour what their hostess had whispered to her.
‘Strange,’ Carole observed. ‘That’s two people who’ve pointed the finger at Davina.’
‘Two?’
‘Come on, Jude. Neville Prideaux. I told you what he said.’
‘Oh yes.’
It was after eight and still just about light. They were suddenly aware of the spluttering sound of a car engine failing to fire. Then the slam of a door, a muttered curse and a bonnet being opened. They found themselves facing a very cross-looking Gordon Blaine in front of his ancient Land Rover.
‘Trouble?’ asked Jude.
‘Bloody thing. It’s got a new engine and … not a sign of life.’
‘Oh well, if it’s a new engine,’ said Carole, ‘at least you can bawl out whoever put it in for you.’
‘I put it in,’ said Gordon Blaine lugubriously.
‘Ah. Oh. Well …’
‘Bloody useless!’ He slammed the bonnet down, disturbing the genteel Saturday evening quiet of Smalting, and looked around in frustration. ‘Where the hell do you get a bloody cab in this place?’
‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ asked Carole. ‘Where do you live?’
‘Fethering,’ came the grumpy response.
‘What serendipity,’ said Jude.
Gordon Blaine’s house was a semi with a garage on the northern outskirts of the village. A couple of streets further along and he’d have been in Downside, regarded by people like Carole as the ‘common’ part of Fethering.
She had insisted he sat in the front seat of the Renault, ‘because you’ve got longer legs than Jude’. As he got out he said, ‘Can I invite you two ladies in for a drink?’
Anticipating Carole’s refusal on the grounds that they’d already had plenty, Jude said quickly that it was very kind of him, they’d love that. Reflected in the rear-view mirror, she could see the tug of annoyance at her neighbour’s mouth.
The interior of the house was strangely cramped, a tiny sitting room with an even tinier kitchen en suite. The furniture was old and dark and the décor gave the impression that the owner didn’t notice his surroundings. There seemed no evidence that Gordon cohabited with anyone. Nor did their host give the impression that he was much used to having guests.
‘Now, drinks …’ he said rather helplessly. ‘You were drinking champagne at Elizaveta’s, weren’t you? I’m afraid I don’t have any of that. Or white wine, actually. I think I’ve got some red … certainly beer. I’m going for the Scotch myself.’
‘That would suit me perfectly,’ said Jude.
‘I’ll just have water, because I’m driving.’
‘It’ll have to be from the tap,’ Gordon apologized. ‘I don’t have any of that sparkling mineral stuff.’
‘Tap is fine.’
The ease with which he found the bottle of Teacher’s and the size of the measures he poured suggested that he might have quite a taste for the whisky, though he probably rarely had company to share it with. He raised his glass. ‘Well, thanks very much for rescuing me.’
‘No problem at all,’ said Carole.
He sat down, shook his head and said, ‘It doesn’t seem right, Elizaveta not being involved in this Devil’s Disciple production.’
‘Really?’
‘Well, you wouldn’t know, Jude. Nor you, Carole, only just having joined the society.’