Barbara Taylor Bradford – Voice of the Heart (страница 16)
The dressing room not only reflected Katharine’s neat, spruce little flat in Lennox Gardens, but was yet another manifestation of her personal fastidiousness. This excessive neatness was becoming a fetish. Her drawers at the theatre, and at the flat, were laden with piles of beautiful underwear, and without exception she changed her under garments at least three times a day during her working week. One set was donned in the morning, was replaced by another for the performance, and this was discarded for a third, fresh set to wear after the theatre. On matinee days she used up four sets, much to the continued amazement of her dresser, Maggie. Other drawers, both at home and at the theatre, contained innumerable pairs of newly laundered stockings, folded and stacked in neat piles alongside clean handkerchiefs, dozens of pairs of white kid gloves of varying lengths, and a staggering selection of silk and chiffon scarves as pristine as the day they left the store. Every pair of shoes she owned boasted shoe trees; her hats were kept on the proper stands; her handbags were stuffed with tissue paper; sweaters were folded into plastic bags; and almost every garment in her wardrobe, from day dresses to evening frocks, hung in a dust-proof bag. Every time an outfit had been worn it was given to Maggie to be sponged and pressed, or was sent out to the dry cleaners.
Katharine was equally immaculate about herself, and was heavily addicted to perfumes and deodorants as if she was afraid that her own very natural and feminine body odours might possibly give offence, and she used breath sprays, mouth wash and toothpaste lavishly. Not surprisingly, she had an enormous distaste for anyone or any place that was dirty, grubby or unkempt.
The tranquillity, orderliness and coolness of the dressing room was like a balm to Katharine after the intensity of the lights and the heat of the stage, and particularly so tonight. Maggie had asked to leave an hour earlier than usual to attend a special family gathering, and Katharine had agreed at once. Maggie’s absence was welcome, and she was glad to be alone to collect herself. She struggled out of the Grecian costume, laid it on the small sofa.
Seating herself at the dressing table Katharine removed the tiresome wig. As she did she experienced a lovely sense of freedom. She unpinned her own hair and shook it loose. After brushing it vigorously until it gleamed, she tied it back with a white cotton bandana, and then creamed off the heavy stage make-up until there was not the merest trace of it left. A folding screen camouflaged a wash basin in the corner of the room, and now Katharine stepped behind this, where she gave herself a thorough body sponging. She then washed her face, cleaned her teeth, gargled, dusted herself with talcum powder, sprayed on deodorant, perfumed herself with Ma Griffe scent and so finished her evening toilette, which was invariably something of a ritual with her.
Whilst she dressed Katharine contemplated the evening ahead and suddenly she wished she had arranged the supper for tomorrow night instead. The two performances had vitiated her energy, and she, who was normally so full of vigour at this hour, felt ready to curl up and go to sleep. But she knew she had to pull herself together, strike a pose of sparkling gaiety and be entertaining for a few more hours. Certainly it was impossibly late to cancel the evening, and undoubtedly Kim was already patiently waiting at the stage door as arranged. And of course there was Victor, who was going directly to the house in Chesterfield Street. She sighed. Having paid punctilious attention to every detail and carefully contrived this entire situation, she was now hoist by her own petard. If only my throat weren’t so sore, she said to herself, sliding the pure-silk-and-lace slip over her head. God, I hope I’m not really getting a chest cold.
This thought was so alarming it propelled her across the room to the dressing table. She pulled open a drawer and took out the bottle of cough medicine she kept there. She was sparing with the mixture because it had a high alcohol content, and on several occasions it had made her a trifle whoozy. She gulped down the medicine and grimaced.
Lowering herself into the chair, Katharine leaned forward and examined her face in the mirror. At least she looked in perfect health, and she recognized she must do everything in her power to ensure this state of well being. Under no circumstances could she permit herself to become sick. The next few weeks were going to be the most important weeks of her life. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with her plans, so diligently and painstakingly formulated. Nothing and nobody.
How hard she had strived to arrange everything to her advantage, to manipulate events, to make her dreams come true. They had to come true.
Still preoccupied with her rapidly moving thoughts, Katharine brushed out her hair, carelessly stuck two combs at each side, pulling it away from her face, and filled in her mouth with lipstick. Without even a cursory second glance at herself she rose and went to the wardrobe. She slipped on the black dress, stepped into the black suede pumps and added the turquoise silk scarf at her neck before pulling on the black wool coat. She took a pair of white gloves from the drawer, picked up the black suede handbag and glided to the door.
For a moment her hand rested on the knob. She let her body go slack, and took several deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds. And then drawing on all of her inner resources and every ounce of energy she could muster, she straightened up, stiffened her back and threw back her head. Consummate actress that she was, Katharine was able to summon any facial expression and mood at will, and she assumed a demeanour that was carefree and vital before stepping out into the corridor. And her step was remarkably determined as she mounted the stone stairs.
Kim, who was hovering near the stage door chatting to Charlie, the doorman, excused himself and rushed forward when he saw her approaching. ‘Katharine darling, you look absolutely ravishing!’ he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Thank you,’ Katharine said, giving him a glowing smile. She squeezed his arm affectionately and looked up at him through sparkling eyes. ‘Sorry I kept you waiting.’
‘Don’t give it another thought,’ Kim replied quickly. ‘And at least it’s stopped raining. It was coming down in torrents when I arrived.’
‘Good night, Charlie,’ Katharine called as Kim bustled her out of the door.
“Night, Miss. And ‘ave a nice evening.’ Charlie nodded in Kim’s direction. ‘And you too, yer lordship.’
‘Good night, Charlie. And thanks so much for entertaining me.’
The door slammed behind them and Kim took hold of Katharine’s arm, hurrying her down the narrow alley adjoining the theatre. ‘Let’s get to the car before it starts pouring again.’
‘Tell me, Kim, how was old Charlie managing to entertain you?’
Kim chuckled. ‘He was regaling me with marvellous stories about the “stage-door Johnnies” he has known in his time. He was frightfully funny, and even a bit risqué.’
‘Oh, and does he think you’re one?’ Katharine asked. ‘Are you his idea of a modern “stage-door Johnny”?’
‘Most probably!’ He glanced down at her. ‘I must say, old Charlie is very devoted to you, Katharine.’ He hesitated before adding. ‘And so is Terrence Ogden. He stopped to exchange a few words with me when he was leaving, and he positively raved about you. He also seemed a bit curious about this evening and our plans. He said he had wanted us to join him at the Buxton, that he had invited us.’
Katharine experienced a small jab of astonishment, and thought: invited
‘Well, you do agree, don’t you?’
‘Agree about what, Kim?’
‘That Terry is devoted to you.’ Kim coughed behind his hand, and his voice was gruff as he ventured, ‘Actually, I think he has a crush on you.’
Laughter bubbled up in Katharine at the absurdity of this idea, and she was unable to suppress it. She looked up at Kim, her eyes crinkling with merriment. In the faint light from the street lamp she noticed the look of gloomy consternation on his face, and knew she must reassure him instantly.
‘Of course he doesn’t! He was only raving about me tonight because I helped him out in the second act. He almost blew his lines. And as for the invitation, well, he was just trying to be sociable, that’s all.’ Katharine was not sure she believed her own words. Perhaps Kim was correct in his assumption. If so it would explain Terry’s churlish attitude after she had refused the invitation, and his comment about Victor also. But she had no intention of confirming Kim’s suspicions. Rather, she had to allay them, and immediately. ‘Anyway, Terry is in love with Alexa Garrett. They are having a wild and highly-publicized romance, don’t you know?’