‘All that’s as it may be. But I don’t know what the author’ll say. He’s a conceited little ape and it’s not a bit the scene he wrote.’
‘Oh, leave him to me. I’ll fix him.’
There was a knock at the door and it was the author himself who came in. With a cry of delight, Julia went up to him, threw her arms round his neck and kissed him on both cheeks.
‘Are you pleased?’
‘It looks like a success,’ he answered, but a trifle coldly.
‘My dear, it’ll run for a year.’ She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him full in the face. ‘But you’re a wicked, wicked man.’
‘I?’
‘You almost ruined my performance. When I came to that bit in the second act and suddenly saw what it meant I nearly broke down. You knew what was in that scene, you’re the author; why did you let us rehearse it all the time as if there was no more in it than appeared on the surface? We’re only actors, how can you expect us to—to fathom your subtlety? It’s the best scene in your play and I almost bungled it. No one in the world could have written it but you. Your play’s brilliant, but in that scene there’s more than brilliance, there’s genius.’
The author flushed. Julia looked at him with veneration. He felt shy and happy and proud.
(‘In twenty-four hours the mugil think he really meant the scene to go like that.’)
Michael beamed.
‘Come along to my dressing-room and have a whisky and soda. I’m sure you need a drink after all that emotion.’
They went out as Tom came in. Tom’s face was red with excitement.
‘My dear, it was grand. You were simply wonderful. Gosh, what a performance.’
‘Did you like it? Avice was good, wasn’t she?’
‘No, rotten.’
‘My dear, what do you mean? I thought she was charming.’
‘You simply wiped the floor with her. She didn’t even look pretty in the second act.’
Avice’s career!
‘I say, what are you doing afterwards?’
‘Dolly’s giving a party for us.’
‘Can’t you cut it and come along to supper with me? I’m madly in love with you.’
‘Oh, what nonsense. How can I let Dolly down?’
‘Oh, do.’
His eyes were eager. She could see that he desired her as he had never done before, and she rejoiced in her triumph. But she shook her head firmly. There was a sound in the corridor of a crowd of people talking, and they both knew that a troop of friends were forcing their way down the narrow passage to congratulate her.
‘Damn all these people. God, how I want to kiss you. I’ll ring you up in the morning.’
The door burst open and Dolly, fat, perspiring and bubbling over with enthusiasm, swept in at the head of a throng that packed the dressing-room to suffocation. Julia submitted to being kissed by all and sundry. Among others were three or four well-known actresses, and they were prodigal of their praise. Julia gave a beautiful performance of unaffected modesty. The corridor was packed now with people who wanted to get at least a glimpse of her. Dolly had to fight her way out.
‘Try not to be too late,’ she said to Julia, ‘It’s going to be a heavenly party.’
‘I’ll come as soon as ever I can.’
At last the crowd was got rid of and Julia, having undressed, began to take off her make-up. Michael came in, wearing a dressing-gown.
‘I say, Julia, you’ll have to go to Dolly’s party by yourself. I’ve got to see the libraries and I can’t manage it. I’m going to sting them.’
‘Oh, all right.’
‘They’re waiting for me now. See you in the morning.’
He went out and she was left alone with Evie. The dress she had arranged to wear for Dolly’s party was placed over a chair. Julia smeared her face with cleansing cream.
‘Evie, Mr Fennel will be ringing up tomorrow. Will you say I’m out?’
Evie looked in the mirror and caught Julia’s eyes. ‘And if he rings up again?’
‘I don’t want to hurt his feelings, poor lamb, but I have a notion I shall be very much engaged for some time now.’
Evie sniffed loudly, and with that rather disgusting habit of hers drew her forefinger across the bottom of her nose.
‘I understand,’ she said dryly.
‘I always said you weren’t such a fool as you looked.’ Julia went on with her face. ‘What’s that dress doing on that chair?’
‘That? That’s the dress you said you’d wear for the party.’
‘Put it away. I can’t go to the party without Mr Gosselyn.’
‘Since when?’
‘Shut up, you old hag. Phone through and say that I’ve got a bad headache and had to go home to bed, but Mr Gosselyn will come if he possibly can.’
‘The party’s being given special for you. You can’t let the poor old gal down like that?’
Julia stamped her feet.
‘I don’t want to go to a party. I won’t go to a party.’
‘There’s nothing for you to eat at home.’
‘I don’t want to go home. I’ll go and have supper at a restaurant.’
‘Who with?’
‘By myself.’
Evie gave her a puzzled glance.
‘The play’s a success, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Everything’s a success. I feel on the top of the world. I feel like a million dollars. I want to be alone and enjoy myself. Ring up the Berkeley and tell them to keep a table for one in the little room. They’ll know what I mean.’
‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘I shall never in all my life have another moment like this. I’m not going to share it with anyone.’
When Julia had got her face clean she left it. She neither painted her lips nor rouged her cheeks. She put on again the brown coat and skirt in which she had come to the theatre and the same hat. It was a felt hat with a brim, and this she pulled down over one eye so that it should hide as much of her face as possible. When she was ready she looked at herself in the glass.
‘I look like a working dressmaker whose husband’s left her, and who can blame him? I don’t believe a soul would recognize me.’
Evie had had the telephoning done from the stage-door, and when she came back Julia asked her if there were many people waiting for her there.
‘Abouf three ’undred I should say.’
‘Damn.’ She had a sudden desire to see nobody and be seen by nobody. She wanted just for one hour to be obscure. ‘Tell the fireman to let me out at the front and I’ll take a taxi, and then as soon as I’ve got out let the crowd know there’s no use in their waiting.’
‘God only knows what I ’ave to put up with,’ said Evie darkly.
‘You old cow.’
Julia took Evie’s face in her hands and kissed her raddled cheeks; then slipped out of her dressing-room, on to the stage and through the iron door into the darkened auditorium.
Julia’s simple disguise was evidently adequate, for when she came into the little room at the Berkeley of which she was peculiarly fond, the head waiter did not immediately know her.
‘Have you got a corner that you can squeeze me into?’ she asked diffidently.
Her voice and a second glance told him who she was.
‘Your favourite table is waiting for you, Miss Lambert. The message said you would be alone?’ Julia nodded and he led her to a table in the corner of the room, ‘I hear you’ve had a big success tonight, Miss Lambert.’ How quickly good news travelled. ‘What can I order?’
The head waiter was surprised that Julia should be having supper by herself, but the only emotion that it was his business to show clients was gratification at seeing them.
‘I’m very tired, Angelo.’
‘A little caviare to begin with, madame, or some oysters?’
‘Oysters, Angelo, but fat ones.’
‘I will choose them myself, Miss Lambert, and to follow?’
Julia gave a long sigh, for now she could, with a free conscience, order what she had had in mind ever since the end of the second act. She felt she deserved a treat to celebrate her triumph, and for once she meant to throw prudence to the winds.