Beaumont Brides Collection (84 page)

The leotard moulded to his body displayed beautifully sculpted muscles and beneath the white make-up, the mournful painted-on expression, his bones were finely modelled. He would attract attention even when he wasn’t performing.

And whether she liked it or not he had already made her part of his performance, the kind of mime perfected by Charlie Chaplin, the bashful little man falling in love with the beautiful, unattainable girl. Despite herself, she was drawn in until when, finally he presented her with the absurd flower once more, she laughed and took it, allowing him to kiss her hand.

She was still laughing as she finally walked away, her temper having evaporated as quickly as it had boiled up in the warmth and charm of his performance. He was well worth the ten-pound note she’d dropped in his hat.

Then as she crossed the piazza to a small wine bar she felt another tap on her shoulder. But she wasn’t playing again.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, as she turned to face him. He shook his head, holding out her ten-pound note, presenting it to her with a formal little bow.

Did he think it was a mistake? ‘No, no,’ she said, slightly embarrassed. ‘Keep it. Please.’

He went through an exquisite routine; his heart was hers, he could not take her money.

They were beginning to attract attention. ‘Don’t be silly. You earned it. You were wonderful.’

He feigned modesty. She didn’t believe it but laughed out loud at his nonsense and apparently encouraged by this, he elaborately but silently invited her to join him for a drink.

‘Well, that’s an original pick-up line.’

‘But did it work?’ he asked, finally breaking out of character. ‘What do you say?’

*****

Jack Wolfe, a few floors above Trudy Morgan, in the penthouse suite, was also more interested in what was happening in the square than the protests of his younger brother.

‘Come on Jack, be fair. The way you boss me about anyone would think you were my father.’

‘I might as well be.’ Jack Wolfe bit down hard, turning abruptly from the performance below him. ‘Who else do you turn to when your rent needs paying? Or when you need funds for a rugby tour? Or when-’

‘That’s just it, Jack,’ Tom rushed in, not in the least abashed by this catalogue of his ingratitude. ‘I’ve got a ticket for the rugby international at Murrayfield this weekend. They’re like gold dust.’

‘And undoubtedly as expensive. I’m sorry Tom. I have no doubt that the England team will miss your support to a man and I wouldn’t ask you to do this for me if it wasn’t important, but I’m needed in Chicago…’ - Tom opened his mouth to argue, but Jack had had enough - ‘…and someone has to be in my apartment when the workmen come to fit the windows.’

‘Why the hell to they have to do it this weekend?’

‘Because they didn’t do it properly the first time. If it’s any comfort I don’t suppose they are any happier about it than you -’

‘Christ, Jack, not just workmen, but bad-tempered workmen. Can’t Caroline sort it out? You’re seeing her this evening, aren’t you?’

‘I’ve had to cancel that too. So you’re not the only one who’s suffering-’

‘She gave you a hard time too, did she? I don’t suppose she’s used to being stood up.’

‘-and since I’d rather not encourage Caro’s nesting instincts, I’m afraid for the purpose of this exercise, you are it, Tom. Accept your fate gracefully.’

Tom reserved all the grace at his command for the rugby field. For the glacial beauty his brother chose to squire about town he had nothing but undisguised loathing.

‘Nesting instincts?’ He snorted. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. That woman has all the home-making instincts of the cuckoo.’

‘I sincerely hope so,’ his brother replied, with a wintry smile. ‘Her lack of domesticity is one of Caro’s most endearing qualities. But women have a way of disguising their true feelings and I am not prepared to take the risk.’

‘Why?’

‘Why am I not prepared to take the risk?’ Jack asked, an edge to his voice.

But Tom was feeling reckless. ‘If you like. I mean why on earth do you hang around with women like her? Aren’t you afraid of getting frostbite? Christ, she’s so thin I’d be afraid she’d break if I turned over in bed too quickly.’

‘Fortunately, that is something that you will never have to worry about.’

‘You can’t punish yourself forever, Jack.’

‘Punish myself?’ The edge sharpened and Tom flushed.

There was an unbreachable boundary about his brother, an inviolate area of his life that no one was allowed to mention. Tom had been too young at the time to really understand what had happened to his brother when Lisette died, but as he grew older he could see that blanking it off was a mistake. Avoiding emotional involvement with women like Caroline Hickey who were all appearance and no heart, would in the end destroy him. But knowing it and telling him were two different things.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

Jack accepted his apology with a dismissive gesture and turned back to the window. The mime artist was trying to draw a girl into his act, the girl from the travel agents who had been in such a state. She didn’t want to play, he could see by her body language that she just wanted to get away but as she turned to tell the clown to leave her alone he must have done something to make her smile.

It was a smile that lit up the square, a smile that seemed to underline his own emotional sterility, the terrible emptiness at his core.

Just for a second, in the doorway of the travel agents he’d had a glimpse of how it could have been as every instinct had urged him to take the girl into his arms and hold her, offer her simple human comfort. Except that people were never simple.

If she had been a company in trouble he would have leapt in there, done everything he could to help without thinking twice. That would have been easy.

But people expected so much more, demanded so much more. He had failed once and he hadn’t been able to handle it. The responsibility for another person’s life was too much. So he had chosen to ignore the need he had recognized in a young woman’s face and walk away from the risk.

The clown was doing a lot better. And now the act was finished, he was following her, talking to her, taking her into the wine bar. It must be easier for a clown, Jack thought, with a white painted face to hide behind.

‘It was a long time ago, Jack, ‘ Tom persisted as he walked away from the window.

‘You’ll need a key,’ Jack said, as if he hadn’t spoken. He took one from his pocket and held it out. For a moment Tom looked as if he would baulk then, with a shrug of resignation he gave in and took it. ‘Oh, and Tom-’

‘I know. No parties.’ He sighed.

Recognizing that his brother had finally accepted the inevitable, Jack Wolfe’s expression softened a little. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Yes it is. You haven’t even got a television.’

‘You can listen to the match on the radio,’ he pointed out, suddenly tired of pandering to a spoilt boy’s complaints. ‘And should you find time hanging heavy you could always try revising for your exams.’

CHAPTER TWO

MELANIE laughed at the clown’s cheek. Then, as the slight Aussie twang in his voice rang a cord in her memory, she asked, ‘Do I know you?’

‘I cannot tell a lie. Our paths have crossed before.’ And he bowed low from the waist. ‘Richard Latham, actor manqué, at your service.’

‘Richard?’ She could scarcely believe it. It had been five years since they had both been in the same soap opera. They had both been little more than children and it was doubtful if she would have recognized the man, even without the white make-up. ‘This is amazing. How long have you been in London? I suppose you saw me coming out of Trudy Morgan’s office?’ she prompted.

‘A glass of wine?’ Richard asked. ‘Or shall we save time and order a bottle?’

‘Neither. A cappuccino, please Marco.’ Richard looked disappointed. ‘I’m afraid it goes straight to my head, but don’t let me stop you.’

‘No, there’s no fun in drinking alone. Make it two cappuccinos, Marco,’ he said, and then turned back to Mel. ‘Actually I saw you arrive at Trudy’s,’ he said, finally answering her question. ‘I was waiting for you to come out.’

‘But I might not have stopped to watch you.’

‘You didn’t,’ he pointed out. ‘I made you stop.’ Then he shrugged. ‘I have to admit it took two attempts. You didn’t even notice me the first time. You seemed a bit upset.’

‘Just in a hurry.’ Richard was charming, and under the white make-up he was undoubtedly still as attractive as he had been when they worked together. But she hadn’t fallen for him then and had no desire to confide in him now. ‘What are you doing performing in the street, Richard? I thought you’d left show business and gone to work for your father.’

‘I did. But the company was taken over last year by one of those international conglomerates and the Latham family became surplus to requirements. Dad made things easy for them by having a heart attack. I was harder to get rid of, but in the end I had no choice.’

‘I’m sorry, Richard.’ Sorry too for the bitterness in his voice. ‘How is your father now?’

‘Relaxing. Pretending very hard that sitting in the garden is all he ever wanted to do with his life. That’s not for me.’

‘What is?’

‘I’ve a few things to settle before I make any major decisions. What about you? Are the offers pouring in after your West End debut?’

Melanie pulled a rueful face. ‘My agent has a sit-com lined up for me. She thinks it’s exactly what I need right now. I don’t.’

‘But you’ll do it.’

‘Will I?’ she asked.

‘Of course. You’re too nice, too sweet to seriously upset anyone by saying no.’

Slightly irritated by his patronizing attitude, she forgot her unwillingness to confide in him. ‘I already have.’

‘Then she’ll leave it for a few days, let you work up a head of guilt and then she’ll ask you again. You won’t be able to turn her down. Not twice.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculous? Me? Think back just five minutes, Mel. You wanted to tell me to go to hell out there, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Come on, admit it.’

He was inviting her to laugh at herself and she did, although she didn’t find it all that funny.

‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should cultivate a bit of attitude, stop trying to please everyone.’ Maybe she should take a leaf out of Heather’s book.

‘When pigs fly. Tell me about this sitcom. What’s wrong with it?’

‘Nothing. I just don’t want to do it.’

‘Oh, hoity-toity!’

Melanie laughed. ‘You see? I can be a bad girl when I want to be.’

‘No, darling, not bad. You’re one of the fabulous Beaumonts now. You’re just showing a little artistic temperament. I’m sure Trudy knows you’ll come through for her.’

‘Not this time. And I do mean it. I’d rather do what you’re doing.’ He raised one painted brow dramatically and she laughed. ‘What do you say, Richard? Do you need a partner? We made a pretty good team out there.’

‘Sure, you’re welcome to come and join in any time. But don’t expect a cut. Not everyone is as generous as you. This doesn’t even pay the rent.’

‘Really? What does?’

‘I’m working as a cleaner at nights in an office block. That one.’ He pointed to the elegant Georgian facade of the offices across the square.

‘Trudy’s office?’

‘She only has a suite on the first floor,’ he said. ‘A very nice suite, I grant you.’

‘Oh, come on, Richard, you’re having me on.’

‘Not at all.’ He fished a card out of the leather purse on his belt and handed it to her.

She glanced at it. ‘Busy Bees Cleaning Services? You’re kidding?’

‘Maybe you should try it for a week or two. It would made that sit-com suddenly seem very desirable.’

‘You could do better than that, Richard,’ she said.

‘Could I?’

‘You were talented - you are talented...’

‘So I should go back to the soaps? Good enough for me, but not for you now you’ve been in a sell-out West End show?’

He was bitter about that too, then?

‘I didn’t mean that. There’s nothing wrong with a good soap opera. And it’s a lot easier than scrubbing floors.’

He said nothing for a moment, and then he laughed. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take my ill fortune out on you. And cleaning isn’t that bad, really.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘There are worse jobs. You’ve lived a sheltered life, Mel. Maybe you should try it out here in the real world before you make any snap judgments.’

It was a sentiment that echoed her own thoughts and yet she didn’t like the way it sounded coming from Richard. ‘You make me sound terribly boring.’

‘Not boring. You’re a nice girl, Mel. Everyone likes you. But you’re untouched. You’ve been protected from the first moment you stepped onto the television set. Your mother saw to that. The producer was terrified of her you know.’

‘Yes, well, my mother had first hand experience of what could happen to a girl in the big bad world of entertainment.’