‘We can.’ Carrie turned to her. ‘Listen to me – not long from now there are going to be hundreds of people lining up, booking seats for the chance to see you. You can’t let them down. We’re not going to give in now, just because of what Kurt said.’ She paused. ‘Or is that what you want?’

  Rosemary didn’t answer.

  ‘Is it?’ Carrie said.

  ‘No. No, I guess not.’

  Carrie gave a nod, then said softly, ‘You’ll get cold standing out here, Rosie. And you have to look after your voice. You can’t afford to get a chill. Why don’t you go back in the house?’

  After Rosemary had left her side, Carrie remained until the fire had burned out, then poked at the embers with a stick until she was sure there was nothing left that was recognisable. Giving a last prod at the fading ashes, she stepped back. ‘And that’s the end of you,’ she said.

  *

  That evening, in an effort to take their minds from the atmosphere of horror that hung about the house, Carrie turned on the television. But it was soon apparent that nothing happening on the flickering screen was registering in Rosemary’s brain. Her dull, lacklustre eyes fixed on the picture as if she was looking right through it. She needed more time, Carrie said to herself. Unfortunately, time was a commodity in short supply.

  *

  The next day Carrie suggested to Rosemary that she work at some of her songs. Rosemary shook her head. ‘I just – just don’t feel like it right now.’

  ‘Why don’t you try?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘I see,’ Carrie said. ‘So everything will have been for nothing.’

  ‘Oh, Carrie, please…’

  ‘I let you have all the money I had, Rosie,’ Carrie said. ‘Every cent. And I don’t think for a minute we’ll get back our payment on the theatre. We can’t change things. I wish we could, but we can’t. We can only make the best of what we have.’ She paused, watching Rosemary’s tortured face. ‘You didn’t mean to kill him, Rosie.’

  ‘No – but I did.’

  ‘I know. But we’ve got to go forward. We can’t stop now.’

  Rosemary said nothing for a moment, then got up and moved to the piano. Lifting the lid she played a few chords, and began to sing, but falteringly, spiritlessly. Breaking off in the middle of a phrase, she looked round at Carrie.

  ‘Keep going,’ Carrie insisted.

  ‘They’ll throw things,’ Rosemary said. ‘I just keep thinking of – of what he said.’

  ‘Forget that. Think about those people who’ve been buying your album. They love you, and they can’t all be wrong. You can’t take the word of just one man.’

  Rosemary remained silent for a moment, then gave a nod. ‘I’ll try.’

  Carrie left her then and, with the sound of the piano fading behind her, went from the house and down the garden path. Making her way to the little copse, she stood in the fading light and looked down at the spot where Kurt lay buried. She could see no obvious signs that the earth had been disturbed.

  As she entered the house a moment later there came to her the sound of Rosemary singing. With a little nod of satisfaction and relief, Carrie came to a stop and stood listening. It would all be all right, she said to herself. It would.

  *

  Rosemary was in the kitchen making coffee, when Carrie, holding a notepad, came in. ‘We’ve got to get busy,’ Carrie said. ‘Booking for the show opened on Saturday, and I just called the box office to see how tickets have been going.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Not so good, I’m afraid. We need to get out and do something. We’ve got to see some people. Get some publicity going. We’ve got to get up to London.’

  ‘When do you think we should go?’ Rosemary said. Although eager to get away from the house, she dreaded the thought of going out in public. For all the horror connected with the cottage, within its walls she felt relatively safe.

  ‘What about today?’ Carrie was brisk. ‘We haven’t got much time left.’ Her voice softened. ‘I’m sorry, Rosie. I don’t mean to be tough on you, but there are things to do, and we can’t put them off any longer.’

  ‘No – of course not.’

  ‘And one of the first things,’ Carrie went on, ‘is to get some pictures done. I’ve got the numbers of a couple of photographers who are said to be very good, so we need to get that arranged as soon as possible. We’ve got to get some publicity working for you. Photographs, a few private interviews. If we can get an appointment with a photographer you can sort out some things to wear for the session – and we’ll take them along with us. Get your hair done for the session too – you’ll look fantastic.’ She paused, looking at Rosemary with a judicious gaze. ‘You know,’ she added in a softer tone, ‘I haven’t told you how marvellous you look. But you do. You look really great.’

  Rosemary gave the hint of a smile. With everything that had happened she had given no thought to her new appearance.

  ‘You’ll want to see about your gown for the show too,’ Carrie went on. ‘And we still have to find a new MD. I’ve been making a few enquiries there and I’ll make a few more calls. We’ll get done what we can today, and maybe go up again tomorrow or the next day. Whatever it takes, okay?’

  *

  Two hours later they left the cottage and climbed into the Corolla that was waiting in the yard. An appointment had been made for Rosemary in London with a hairdresser, and for later in the day with a photographer. Already on the back seat of the car lay the clothes she planned to wear for the photo session.

  ‘I hope we’ve got everything we need,’ Carrie said as she closed the car door. Then, glancing off, she added, ‘Oh – here comes the mailman.’

  As the village postman came cycling up the drive, Rosemary said, ‘Have you been getting the mail okay? Is it all getting directed here?’

  ‘It all seems to be coming through,’ Carrie said. ‘The bills too, unfortunately.’ She lowered the window as the postman came to a halt at her side. ‘Good morning,’ she greeted him. ‘You have something nice for us today?’

  He smiled. ‘Just two, three things, ma’am. But nice or not, I couldn’t say.’ He placed some envelopes in her hand and looked up at the sky. ‘Will it stay fine, d’you reckon?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Carrie said. ‘We’re off to London.’ She thanked him, and he wished them a good day, turned his bicycle and rode back out into the lane.

  Carrie glanced through the items of mail. ‘A couple for you and one for me,’ she said. ‘We’ll deal with it later.’ She put the envelopes in the glove compartment and turned to Rosemary. ‘All set?’

  Rosemary gave a hesitant nod. ‘All set.’

  ‘Good.’

  The sun above was bright. Carrie turned on the ignition, and as she did so, Rosemary leaned across and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  Carrie looked at her. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Nothing. Just that you’ve been so – so wonderful.’

  ‘Oh – Rosie…’

  ‘You have,’ Rosemary said. ‘And I won’t let you down, I promise.’

  ‘That’s all I want to hear.’ Carrie’s voice was husky in reply. She gave Rosemary a smile, put the engine in gear and started the car forward. ‘We’ll stop somewhere nice for lunch, shall we?’

  ‘That would be nice.’

  At the end of the drive. Carrie eased the car out into the lane. ‘Okay, London,’ she said, ‘here we come.’

  ……EIGHTEEN

  Somehow they had missed the road to the motorway. It had been over thirty minutes since they had set out, and they should have been on it by now.

  ‘We didn’t get any satellite navigation with this car?’ Rosemary asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s there somewhere,’ Carrie said, ‘but I’m no good at all that. I’d rather use a map. Trouble is, I left it in the house.’ She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter – we’ll pick up another one and we’ll get some gas at the same time – or petrol as you English choose to call it over here.’ She gestured off the way they had come. ‘We passed a gas station a little way back. Let’s try that.’

  She turned the car and they set off back. Half a mile along they came to the service station and pulled in. As Carrie braked and switched off the engine Rosemary dipped into her purse and brought out her wallet holding her credit cards. ‘Use whichever one you like,’ she said. ‘And maybe get me some aspirin or something, if they have such a thing.’

  ‘Oh, you have a bad head?’ Carrie asked.

  Rosemary nodded. ‘It could be better.’

  ‘I’ll see what they have.’

  When Carrie had finished at the pump she made her way to the station shop and picked up a map of the local area and some paracetamol for Rosemary. After paying for it along with the fuel she returned to the car and got in. ‘Hey, what say we stop off for some coffee?’ she said as she handed Rosemary the packet of tablets. ‘We passed a pub or inn or restaurant or something just down the road. It’ll give me a chance to look at the map as well. Be a good idea to find out where the devil we are.’

  ‘Okay, that sounds good,’ Rosemary said. ‘I need to go to the bathroom too.’

  A couple of hundred yards back along the road they saw the pub, an old building set high above the road, standing solidly against a backdrop of trees and sky. A nearby sign directed them to a steep, narrow road leading to it. Following the sign, Carrie turned off and took the winding way up the hill. At the top she turned into the parking lot, stopped the car and switched off the motor.

  ‘Here we are.’ She smiled at Rosemary. ‘Now you go on in,’ she said. ‘You find us a nice table, and I’ll follow you in a minute. I just want to check over the map.’

  ‘Okay, fine.’

  As Rosemary moved away across the car park towards the entrance to the inn, Carrie leaned back in her seat with a sigh. The demands on her concentration, from the left-hand driving and the navigating, had made her a little tense. But that would pass. Watching as Rosemary’s slim figure disappeared into the inn she felt a surge of warm affection for her. She felt truly needed now, and the call upon her reserves of strength had made her feel stronger than she had ever thought possible. Things might never again be as they had been, she was aware of that – but one thing was certain – from this time on they would be closer than ever.

  From the glove compartment she took the map that she had just bought and opened it out on the passenger seat. Bending over it, she found the route to the motorway, and saw where they had gone wrong. Satisfied, she refolded the map and moved to put it back in the glove compartment. As she did so she saw the items of mail that she had put there at the start of the journey. She took them out. The one addressed to her had a New York City postmark and had been forwarded from Nyack. The envelope bore no sender’s name and address. Tearing open the envelope, she took out a letter and, unfolding it, found a small photograph inside.

  She looked at the photograph, puzzled, frowning. Then, after a few moments the puzzlement disappeared and horrified disbelief took its place. Fingers trembling, she smoothed out the pages of the letter.

  When she had read it through she went back to the beginning and read it again – as if in some part of her mind there was a desperate hope that the second reading would somehow give the lie to the first, and all would be different. No, every word, every phrase was the same. She read it through again, and now, with their growing familiarity, the words only seemed to strike more violently at her heart.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there. Beyond the letter nothing moved for her through the blur of her tears; no sound was there but for her quickening breath, increasing until her despair broke through in a choking sob. Clutching the letter, she hugged herself, rocking to and fro like a child, steeped in misery.

  ‘Carrie…?’

  At the sound of her name she turned her head and saw Rosemary at the window. The next moment Rosemary was opening the passenger door and leaning in.

  ‘Carrie.’ There was concern in her face. ‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter?’

  Carrie said nothing, but sat there, tears coursing down her face.

  In moments Rosemary was in the car. ‘What’s the matter?’ she said. ‘I couldn’t think what was keeping you. What’s wrong?’ Looking at Carrie with increasing alarm and puzzlement she saw the letter clenched in her hand. ‘Oh – have you had some bad news? Oh, Carrie – darling, what is it?’

  Carrie didn’t answer, but turned away and stared from the window.

  ‘Carrie,’ Rosemary said, ‘please – tell me what’s wrong.’

  Reaching out, she put her hand on Carrie’s arm. Carrie flinched, jerking away. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she said.

  Rosemary frowned, taken aback, baffled, her eyes wide. ‘Carrie – what’s the matter?’

  ‘Just – just don’t touch me.’

  On the carpet near her feet Rosemary saw a small rectangle of white. She bent and picked it up, turned it over and saw that it was a photograph.

  And with a shock she saw herself, so much younger, sitting at a restaurant table. Beside her, his cheek close to her cheek, sat a handsome, smiling young man, his hand clasped over hers on the tablecloth. She stared at it while recollection came flooding back. Turning, the blood colouring her cheeks, she saw that Carrie’s eyes were fixed upon her.

  ‘Carrie…’ Rosemary stammered. ‘Carrie, I can explain.’

  ‘Old Cape Cod,’ Carrie said. ‘Does it bring back memories?’ She reached out, took the photograph from Rosemary’s hand and looked closely at it, taking in Michael’s smiling, happy face. Her tears were drying now. After a moment she tossed the photograph into the glove compartment. ‘You don’t need to explain,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t need explaining.’

  ‘I can explain it,’ Rosemary said. ‘Please, Carrie – you must listen to me.’

  ‘I don’t think I need to listen,’ Carrie said. ‘Michael’s letter is very explicit. He was there as well. Or have you forgotten?’

  ‘Your letter – it’s from him, is it?’

  ‘Yes. And he’s told me everything.’ She paused. ‘Did you have any idea what Michael meant to me? No, I guess not. He didn’t mean anything to you, I’m sure. But he was someone I really wanted. And I never dreamed I’d lose him – at least not in the way I did. I wouldn’t want him now. But I did then.’ Another pause, for a second, then, almost as if to herself, she added, ‘Maybe if I’d had him, kept him, he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.’ She smiled a sharp, bitter little smile. ‘I guess he just couldn’t resist you, could he? Once you’d set your sights on him he didn’t stand a chance. Is that the way it happened? And after all, I wasn’t around to get in your way. And he was handsome, there’s no doubt. Just perfect for you to amuse yourself with for a few weeks. Until you got tired of him. He must have been so damned weak. An easy mark for you.’

  Rosemary had remained silent throughout Carrie’s words. Now she gave a little groan and said pleadingly, ‘Carrie – darling, all that was so long ago. And at the time I had no idea you felt so strongly about him.’

  As if Rosemary hadn’t spoken, Carrie said, ‘There I was, moping around Manhattan, waiting for some word from him, and there he was with you – relaxing with you up on Cape Cod. Staying with you – sleeping with you. Making love to you. My God.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s why I never saw him again – because you’d got your hooks into him. And all the thoughts I had of you at that time were such – such warm thoughts. I really thought you were so wonderful.’

  ‘Carrie,’ Rosemary said, ‘listen, please –’

  ‘No, you listen,’ Carrie hissed. ‘This –’ she jabbed at the letter, ‘is not all about Michael, and your little fling.’

  ‘What – what do you mean?’

  ‘What do I mean? I mean that I know everything.’ Carrie’s voice was cold with loathing. ‘And I don’t just mean your taking him away with you when the show closed – I mean everything.’

  ‘Carrie,’ Rosemary said, ‘let me – let me tell you what –’

  ‘I don’t want to hear,’ Carrie said. She glared at Rosemary for a second, then went on: ‘Oh, when I think of what happened at rehearsal. The way you stuck up for me to Ian Brewster. And then when I decided to leave the company you were so nice to me. You came to my motel room and you comforted me. You even offered me money. D’you remember? I was so miserable and I thought no one had ever been so kind to me before in my whole life. And ever since that time, whenever I’ve been unhappy, or when you’ve been cross with me, or impatient, I’ve just thought about your kindness to me that time. And it always worked. I forgave you everything, always. I loved you for that – for what you did that day.’ She gave a slow shake of her head. ‘And all along, it was you. It was you who had me kicked out of the show.’

  Rosemary sharply drew in her breath.

  ‘Yes,’ Carrie said, ‘I know that, too.’ She held up the letter and thrust it before Rosemary’s face. ‘I told you – Michael’s told me everything. Everything.’

  ‘Carrie…’

  ‘You wanted me out of the show, didn’t you? And you were determined that I would go.’

  ‘Carrie…’

  ‘It’s no good denying it.’ Carrie gave a slow nod. ‘I didn’t know at the time, of course, but Michael tells me you had a lot of money invested in the show. Is that right?’

  Rosemary didn’t answer.

  Carrie nodded again. ‘Yes. Right. So now it all makes sense to me. I was a threat to you, wasn’t I? I was just too darn good. You didn’t get me out because you had your eyes on Michael. Oh, no, he was just a side issue, a little fling to take your mind off things later on. No, you wanted me out because you were afraid of me. Right? My presence in the show threatened you, didn’t it? That’s why Brewster cut my songs. At your orders. You were so afraid the notices would say that the second lead was better than the star. Is that the way it was?’

  ‘Carrie –’

  Carrie ignored her, and went on, ‘If I’d known at the time that you’d sunk a lot of your own money into the show I might have guessed a few things.’ She sighed. ‘I doubt it, though; I trusted you so completely. And of course, as you were paying the piper you had so much influence. You fixed it all up with that bastard Brewster, and then watched it all happen. You made it happen. You saw me there on stage, day after day, getting humiliated and torn to shreds in front of the whole company – and it was what you wanted. It’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted me gone – but you couldn’t take the risk of having me fired. What reason could you give? You knew if you did fire me I could have gone to the union, and you might end up getting sued. Whichever way, you’d look bad, and you didn’t want that happening. Oh, no. So you made it impossible for me to stay on. It had to be my decision. And you made sure it was – you and Brewster.’ She was silent for a moment, then, the thought suddenly coming to her, she said, ‘Yes! Brewster making that pass at me, that little kiss. Oh, my God, you put him up to that, didn’t you? To make it look as if he had a reason for it – his turning against me that way.’ She nodded. ‘I see it all.’ She paused. ‘Tell me – did you pay him well?’