Lying back with her eyes closed, she gave herself up to the thoughts and imaginings that turned over in her brain, images shifting, falling, forming patterns like the coloured pieces in a kaleidoscope. After a time she slept.

  *

  Carrie didn’t get to sleep until the early hours of the morning. After Jane Eyre she had got herself a dish of ice cream – butter pecan with maple syrup – and then read for a while. Later on she made a supper of cold chicken and salad and, with Kitty on her knee, relaxed once more before the television. It was a good night for old movies. She saw Three Came Home, starring Claudette Colbert (What that poor woman went through!), then Hedy Lamarr in Strange Woman, and finally Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers in The Gay Divorcee. She loved that old movie. Particularly the way Betty Grable (so young!) sang and danced Let’s Knock Knees. It was a number she’d learned herself and had often performed in front of the mirror.

  …..THIRTEEN

  In the London private hospital Rosemary gazed at herself in the small mirror the surgeon placed in her hand. A week had passed since her surgery and this morning the stitches had been removed.

  ‘What do you think?’ the surgeon asked.

  ‘It – it’s a bit of a shock.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m sure it is. It’s bound to be.’

  ‘My face – it feels numb – and the skin looks so tight.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there’s still some swelling, of course, but that will go – and the scars will soon fade. It’s all healing extremely well. You wait – give it just a little time, and you’re going to be very pleased.’

  The next day she checked out of the hotel where she had been staying, and took a cab to Evergreens, the small health farm situated on the northern outskirts of London. Here she would remain for the next three weeks before going to join Carrie at the cottage.

  *

  Laden with purchases, Carrie emerged from the Fifth Avenue department store and walked to the corner. She still had a couple of items to get, but they could wait till another day. She was cold and tired, and her feet hurt.

  When the lights changed she stepped off the pavement, and started towards the opposite side. She stopped so suddenly in the middle of the street that the young man behind her almost fell in his attempt to avoid colliding with her. ‘Stupid ass dumb broad!’ he muttered angrily, recovering and swinging on by. Carrie took no notice. She was unaware of anyone but the man who had passed by some yards to her right, crossing in the opposite direction. Turning, she hurried after him.

  A few minutes later she watched as he entered a small diner. She hesitated for a moment or two, then followed him through the doorway.

  She saw that he had seated himself at the rather crowded counter. And then – and it had to be fate – saw that the stool on his left was vacant. Trembling slightly, she moved to it and sat down. He gave no sign of having noticed her, but gave his order to the waitress for a coffee, then opened a paperback and began to read. Carrie ordered coffee too, and sat there sipping it and wishing that he’d look up – she had to be absolutely sure that it was he – but he remained with his head bent, intent on his book. At last, after taking a deep, nervous breath, she softly spoke.

  ‘Michael…?’

  He looked up, turning to her. ‘Yes?’ His expression showed puzzlement.

  She gave a wan smile. ‘Don’t you know me?’ Her smile grew broader. ‘I wasn’t absolutely certain that it was you – not at first.’

  ‘Carrie,’ he said after a moment. ‘Carrie. My God, you of all people.’

  She nodded, still smiling. ‘Yes, it’s me all right.’

  ‘Oh, my God,’ he said. ‘Carrie.’ He shook his head in disbelief.

  ‘What a surprise, eh?’

  ‘I’ll say.’ He gave a little smile. ‘It – it’s been a hell of a long time.’

  ‘Yes – it certainly has.’

  ‘Imagine it. I can hardly believe it, seeing you here next to me, like this. It’s amazing.’

  ‘It is amazing, isn’t it?’ she agreed. He looked slightly uncomfortable, she thought – somewhat nervous, on edge.

  A little silence went by, awkward.

  ‘It – it’s good to see you again,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, you too.’ Another brief silence, then she glanced over his shoulder to an empty booth, way in the corner. ‘Hey, why don’t we go sit over there for a few minutes,’ she said. ‘We can talk for a bit. Have a bit of privacy.’

  ‘Oh – okay.’

  She could hear a note of doubt in his voice. Nevertheless he rose from his seat.

  ‘We’d better order some more coffee,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, right.’

  He nodded and turned to the waitress across the bar. ‘Two more coffees, please.’ Then he added, gesturing, ‘We’re moving into that booth over there.’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ She gave a weary sigh. The world was full of people who made life difficult.

  A minute later, in the comparative seclusion of the booth, Carrie asked:

  ‘So, Michael – tell me, how have you been?’

  ‘Oh, pretty good, I guess. And you?’

  She nodded. ‘Okay, I guess.’ She paused. ‘Quite a bit has happened, of course. Well – it’s been a few years.’

  ‘Yes, it has.’ He was silent for a moment, as if searching for words, then he said, ‘How’s your family?’

  ‘My family?’

  ‘Well – your mom – she okay?’

  ‘My mom died,’ she said, looking down at her hands. ‘Right after the show closed.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. And coming at a time like that, too. It must have been just awful for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was tough – I don’t mind admitting.

  ‘And your sister? Janet?’

  ‘Janice,’ she corrected him. ‘She’s gone too, I’m afraid. Cancer.’

  ‘Oh, Carrie, I’m so sorry. You went through a pretty tough time.’

  She gave a shrug. ‘Things happen. You have to deal with them.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  In the little silence that followed she studied him, thinking how much he had altered. It was a wonder she had recognised him. The change in him was quite scary. His once slim figure now looked overweight and flabby. His hair was greying, and thinning alarmingly, and his once brilliant smile had faded along with the loss of a molar from the right side of this mouth. She thought of him as he had looked in Save a Place for Me, and tried to reconcile the image with his present one. It wasn’t easy.

  A waitress, a different one, appeared, sporting a badge saying, Hi, there! I’m Rachel, your waitress. Beneath it was a little yellow sun with laughing eyes and a wide, smiling mouth. Unfortunately neither the sun nor the friendly Hi, there! had been designed with Rachel in mind. With a stony face she set down fresh cups of coffee. ‘Anything else?’ she said.

  Michael looked across at Carrie. ‘You want anything else?’

  A moment’s hesitation, then she said, ‘You know, I could be really naughty and – hey, yes, why not? I’d like some – some apple pie and ice cream. Vanilla.’

  ‘One apple pie with vanilla.’ Rachel made a note on her pad and moved away.

  ‘So,’ Carrie said to Michael, ‘tell me about yourself. Are you still in the business?’

  ‘In the theatre? Oh, no.’ He shook his head. ‘I gave that up a long time ago. Or rather, it gave me up.’

  ‘What are you doing for a living now?’

  ‘I work for a warehouse downtown.’

  ‘Oh…okay…’

  ‘How about you?’

  ‘What? Oh, I got out of the rat race too. I never did anything after Save a Place. That was the end of it for me. I got out of Manhattan, too. I’m living upstate now. Rockland County.’ He said nothing to this, but merely nodded. Carrie said after a moment: ‘I’m a kind of companion-secretary now. Or PA as the term goes. Have been for years. To Rosemary Paul. Remember her?’

  ‘Rosemary?’ His eyes widened. ‘You’re working for her?’

  ‘Yes, I’m living with her out in Nyack. I have been since soon after the show closed.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘You look so surprised.’

  He nodded, staring at her. ‘I – I guess I am. And you get on okay together? Well, obviously you do. You must do.’

  She frowned, smiling at the same time. ‘What kind of question is that? Of course we do. Why shouldn’t we?’

  He said nothing.

  ‘It’s been over twenty-two years,’ she said. ‘That speaks for itself.’

  ‘I – I guess so.’

  ‘Rosemary’s in England right now,’ she said. ‘Getting ready to do a big show there – in March. I’m flying out next week to join her. It’s very exciting.’

  The waitress approached, set down a dish of apple pie and ice cream, then went away. Carrie picked up her fork and ate a little of the pie.

  Michael watched her eat for a moment. ‘How is it?’ he said. ‘Is it okay?’

  ‘It’s very good.’ She ate in silence for some moments, then said: ‘Why didn’t you get in touch with me, Michael?’ It was clear from his silence that her question had taken him by surprise. When he didn’t answer, she said: ‘I waited and waited, but after the show closed I never heard another word. There was nothing. Nothing at all.’ He was silent.

  ‘I didn’t know where you were or what had happened,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you ever call me again?’

  He gave a sigh, dropping his eyes from her gaze. ‘I – I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know? You don’t know? There must have been a reason.’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You told me we’d be together again once you were back in Manhattan. You promised. You made all those promises to me.’

  ‘Oh, Carrie…’ He shook his head. ‘It’s all so long ago now.’

  ‘What difference does that make?’ she said. ‘You think just because you’ve put it out of your mind it doesn’t matter any more? You think that that excuses the way you behaved?’ Now her tone had taken on a hurt, angry note. ‘I waited and waited to hear from you. And you know something? There was somebody who needed me at that time. My mother was sick. But did I go to her? No, I didn’t. I stayed here in New York, waiting for you to get in touch.’

  ‘I didn’t know about your mom,’ he said lamely. ‘How was I to know?’

  ‘You weren’t around to find out,’ she said. ‘But this isn’t about my mom – this is about me and you.’ She glared at him. ‘You just didn’t care, did you?’

  He sighed, a little sound of desperation. ‘Oh, Carrie, please. What’s the point of all this? We were both very young.’

  ‘Yes. And I must have been very green and stupid too.’ She shook her head. ‘I believed everything you said to me. And you knew what a terrible time I went through – with Ian Brewster being so mean and making me so miserable, and me having to leave the show like that and everything. I was depending on you.’ Tears suddenly welled in her eyes and she sniffed and brushed them away. ‘I loved you,’ she said. ‘I really loved you.’

  ‘Carrie –’

  She overrode him, her tone full of reproach. ‘And you said you loved me. We made plans together, and to you they meant nothing, did they?’

  ‘Carrie, listen, I –’

  ‘No, you listen,’ she said. ‘I got back to New York – without a job. But at least I had you – so I thought. And having you I could cope with anything. And I waited, and waited, but nothing happened.’ She clutched her fork so tightly that her knuckles showed white. ‘You should have been there to help me – like you said you would be. But you weren’t. It was Rosemary who had to do it.’

  ‘Rosemary?’ he said, a note of wonder in his voice. ‘Rosemary?’

  ‘Yes, she was the one who helped me. I was in a terrible state. When I ran into her after the show closed she took me in and gave me a job. If it hadn’t been for her I don’t know what I’d have done. She saved my life – my sanity.’

  ‘She – she did that?’ he said. ‘Rosemary?’

  ‘Yes, Rosemary. Are you losing your hearing?’ After a pause, she said, her tone sharp, bitter, ‘There’s just one thing I’d like to know from you – and that is why you never got in touch with me again. Didn’t it mean anything to you, what we had?’ She gazed at him across the table, her pie and ice cream quite forgotten. ‘You made me think I was special, and –’ she could hardly bring herself to say the words ‘– that you loved me.’ She shook her head. ‘But you didn’t, did you?’

  She waited for him to answer, watched as he waved his hands – hateful, soft, podgy, weak hands – in a gesture of helplessness. ‘You didn’t, did you?’ she said.

  He made no reply.

  ‘Yet you knew how I felt,’ she said. ‘I really did love you. I really did.’

  It was true. She had loved him. Now she hated him. Her eyes narrowed with loathing as she took in his thinning hair, the thick folds of flesh beneath his chin, the fine sprinkling of dandruff on his collar. She wondered how she could ever have felt anything for him. Now the sight of him filled her with disgust. ‘You made a fool of me,’ she said. Her voice was rising now. ‘A complete fool.’

  Michael glanced briefly about him, anxious in case they were overheard.

  Reading the gesture she said, hissing the words, ‘Oh, I’m embarrassing you, am I? Well, let me tell you I don’t care if anybody hears me! Why should I care if you feel uncomfortable? Why should I stop to consider your feelings?’

  ‘Carrie – please!’ He breathed the words and reached out across the table to her in a little gesture of pleading. She snatched her hand away.

  ‘Don’t touch me.’

  He shook his head. ‘Oh, what’s the use?’ He drew back his hand, laying it over his book, shifting in his seat, as if preparing to rise.

  ‘Don’t you walk out on me,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  He stayed where he was. ‘Carrie,’ he said, ‘what do you want from me?’

  ‘Just tell me,’ she said, ‘– did you love me?’

  She watched as he struggled, searching for an answer. ‘Well – did you?’

  He sighed. ‘I – I thought I did.’

  ‘Meaning that you really didn’t, is that right?’

  He said nothing.

  ‘Did you?’ she asked. ‘Did you love me or not?’

  ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I – I guess not.’

  Fresh, hot tears sprang to her eyes. ‘No?’ she said. ‘Not at all?’

  He looked away from her, shaking his head. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘But – but you were the only man I ever – ever slept with. The only man I’ve slept with in my life. And you knew you were the first. You knew that. And now I see it meant nothing to you.’

  Over the years she had made excuses for his silence with stories that she had almost come to believe. In her eager daydreams she had seen him searching Manhattan for her, or imagining him involved in some dreadful accident – the way it had happened to Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember. But he’d had no such noble excuse. His silence, his heartlessness, had stemmed simply from the fact that he didn’t love her, had never loved her.

  ‘You were the first, the only one,’ she said. ‘That’s a very special, precious gift that a woman can bestow on a man.’

  He gave a little groan. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Carrie,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘He’s sorry,’ she said. Then in the phony voice of some cod announcer: ‘You hear that, folks? He says he’s sorry. That’s nice to hear, isn’t it.’

  ‘I am,’ he said. ‘Believe me, Carrie, I really am. But – but, you know, we were young. I was young. I made mistakes. Stupid mistakes. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry I did.’

  She looked at him coolly across the table. Silent for a moment, then she said, ‘This snivelling, this whining – it isn’t becoming.’

  ‘Oh, for Heaven’s sake,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what to say. I told you, I’m sorry. Can’t you forgive me?’

  She gazed at him a moment longer, then, clutching the fork in her fist, she raised her hand and plunged it down with all her force. He gave an agonised yelp of pain and horror and looked down round-eyed at the fork embedded in the back of his hand, the blood springing, welling up around the tines.

  ‘We don’t do forgiveness,’ she said.

  Picking up her packages, she rose from her seat. ‘Don’t get up,’ she said flatly. ‘And next time the coffee’s on me.’

  Turning, without a backward glance, she walked away.

  ……FOURTEEN

  Still damp from the shower, Carrie padded along the landing to the telephone in her room and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Hello…?’

  ‘Hi. Is that you, Carrie?’

  It was Kurt. Immediately becoming aware of her nakedness she clutched her bathrobe closer. ‘Yes, it is…’

  ‘Have you heard how Rosemary’s getting along?’

  ‘Yes, I heard from her just this morning. She called from London.’

  ‘Good. How is she?’

  ‘Fine. She’s very well. She’s having a rest at a health farm right now. She’ll be joining me once I’m over there in England.’

  ‘When are you going?’

  ‘In two days. Wednesday. I’m all packed. I’m going straight to the cottage we’ve rented.’

  ‘I must get the address from you. I have a few things to send her. Some new arrangements and a new song I’ve been working on.’

  ‘I’ll send you an email today – all the details.’

  ‘Thanks a lot. That’ll be great. Are you looking forward to going?’