‘Yes, well,’ Rosemary said, lowering her glance, ‘that’s all in the past.’

  Douglas nodded. ‘Apparently,’ he said, ‘the new interest in you started with a series of articles in one of the Sunday tabloids. A series on the whatever-became-of-so-and-so theme. One of the articles was about you, telling about how you’d lost your voice following your – your son’s accident, and that you were now living quietly just outside of Manhattan. But there were a lot of unanswered questions, I guess, and it looks as if you became something of a mystery woman.’

  ‘A mystery woman, eh?’ Rosemary gave a wry smile. ‘That’s a new one.’

  Douglas smiled with her. ‘Anyway, I guess the time was right, and now Amberlight has cashed in on the memories and the nostalgia and put out the album. And what it boils down to is that you’re in demand. It won’t last indefinitely, of course, but right now there is great interest in you. So if you really want to, I think you could do it – go back and cash in on that demand, that interest.’

  ‘Well, that’s what I want to do,’ Rosemary said.

  ‘Good.’ He nodded, clearly pleased. ‘But it’s going to need a lot of work to make it pay off. And there’s no time to hang around. You’ve got to strike while the iron’s hot.’

  ‘I realise that.’

  ‘Good. Great. So, if you want me to work with you we’ll plan it together. Every step. And in the meantime you must start working on your material.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

  ‘Right, and one of the first things we’ve got to do is get you a good arranger and MD. Have you anyone in mind?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t. I don’t know anyone today. I’ve been so out of touch, for so long.’

  ‘Well, I know somebody. His name’s Hellman, Kurt Hellman. His name mean anything to you?’

  ‘I just told you, I’ve been out of touch.’

  ‘Right – well, he’s a good guy, take my word. Very talented – and getting to be pretty much in demand.’

  She nodded. ‘Sounds promising.’

  ‘Oh, he’s really good. He’s just had a notable success with that Off-Broadway show, Second Chances. He’s young, but he has a great future ahead, believe me. If you like I’ll talk to him, see if he’s interested.’

  ‘See if he’s interested?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘You sure he isn’t too exclusive for me?’

  Ignoring the note of sarcasm in her tone, he said, ‘Rosemary, you want the best, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course I want the best.’

  He nodded. ‘Fine. So I suggest that if Kurt’s available you can get together and talk things over, see if you like each other.’

  ‘You like him, obviously,’ she said. ‘You know him pretty well, do you?’

  ‘Pretty well.’ He chuckled. ‘Yes, indeed. He’s my cousin, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Your cousin?’ Rosemary said. ‘What is this – jobs for the boys?’

  He hesitated a moment, then said evenly, ‘No, Rosemary, it’s not jobs for the boys. I’m simply trying to suggest the right man for the job for you. And I mean the right man. But if you’d rather find someone yourself, that’s okay with me too. You just let me know.’

  This was going off in the wrong direction, she thought. ‘No,’ she said quickly, ‘he sounds fine. Just fine. You talk to him. And then call me.’

  ‘I will.’ He took a drink from his coffee cup. ‘And if this all goes ahead you’ll need some good new material – though of course your fans will expect you to do a lot of your old stuff.’

  ‘Oh, they’re sure to.’

  ‘Absolutely. You don’t want to change your image. All those people who come to see you will want to see you – the Rosemary Paul they remember.’ He smiled. ‘And there are a lot of them. Though as you said, they’re not all young any more. But they’ll be there. And the usual gay crowd, I guess.’

  ‘Oh, yes. I always had that special little gay following. They were wonderful.’ She gave a broad smile. ‘And they always bought my records.’

  She picked up her cup and finished the last of her coffee. Then, putting down the cup, she opened her bag, took out a compact and touched up her make-up. Douglas watched her for a second then turned and signalled to the waiter for the check. Turning back to her, he said:

  ‘So? What do you think, Rosemary? You want to take a chance? And it is a chance. I mean, there are no guarantees in this business.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said. ‘But yes, I’m ready for it. Are you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed.’

  ‘Good.’ Now she smiled at him.

  He smiled back. ‘I’ll get in touch with Kurt,’ he said. ‘You’ll hear from me again very soon.’

  *

  ‘How did you make out?’ Carrie asked when Rosemary got back to the house. ‘Was it okay?’

  Rosemary nodded. ‘Yes, it was okay.’

  ‘What did you say his name is?’

  ‘Rosti. Douglas Rosti.’ Rosemary kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the sofa.

  ‘You think you’ll get on with him?’

  ‘Yes…I think so.’

  Carrie heard the qualification, and frowned. ‘You think so? What’s he like?’

  ‘To look at?’ Rosemary shrugged. ‘Well, let’s be kind and just say that Brad Pitt’s not going to lose any sleep.’

  Carrie laughed. ‘That bad?’

  Rosemary shook her head. ‘God, I hate having ugly people around me. I can forgive anything but that. But he’ll be okay. He’s going to fix up a meeting with this guy. He’s his cousin. A guy named Kurt Hellman. Apparently a very talented musician. And if he looks anything like Mr Rosti I’m going to find it very easy to keep my mind on my work,’

  Carrie laughed. ‘Oh, Rosie…’

  Rosemary lit a cigarette, blew out smoke in a stream and said: ‘Anyway, never mind all that. We shall manage. All those people who took it for granted that I was finished. I even got to believing it myself. I got to thinking it was all over, that my life was fading out.’ She gave an emphatic shake of her head. ‘Well, that’s not the way it’s going to be.’

  ……SIX

  Carrie was watching The Wild Heart. Watching as Hazel – that was Jennifer Jones – her pet fox in her arms, ran across the horizon, her slim figure silhouetted against a wide, dramatic sky. From behind the running girl came the baying of hounds and a huntsman’s horn. The sounds were still some way off, but they were steadily getting louder.

  Leaning forward in her chair, rapt, Carrie’s eyes were wide with expectation. The ice that floated in her glass of Coke melted unnoticed.

  Jennifer Jones ran on, while the cries of the hounds came closer. Could she save Foxie? Carrie leaned closer to the flickering television screen, willing the girl to succeed. The hounds were drawing nearer. Nearer still. And then, coming riding, thundering ahead of the hounds, one of the huntsmen caught up with the running girl.

  ‘Oh, help her!’ Carrie whispered. ‘Do something!’

  Pounding along at the girl’s side, the rider shouted to Hazel/Jennifer to drop her little fox. ‘Drop it! Drop it, you little fool! They’ll pull you down!’ The girl took no notice and ran on. And suddenly another huntsman, the squire (that was David Farrar), was there, emerging from the trees. He had loved Hazel/Jennifer, had been captivated by her free, untamed spirit. And now, seeing her running before the pack, he galloped across the field towards her.

  Oh, yes, he would be the one to help her, Carrie said to herself. Oh, yes, please, she prayed. Please, help her.

  The horse’s hooves thudded on the grass as the squire spurred his horse on, striving to overtake the hounds. And eventually he did, and caught up with the running girl. ‘Give her to me,’ he yelled, riding beside her, leaning down to her out of the saddle. ‘Give her to me.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Carrie breathed. ‘Give Foxie to him!’

  But Hazel/Jennifer took no heed and dashed on, plunging down the hill, making for the parsonage and safety.

  Ah, yes, but in her path lay the old mineshaft.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Carrie cried, putting a hand to her mouth, ‘She’s heading straight for the mineshaft.’

  ‘Okay, honey, snap, snap.’

  Rosemary’s voice cut sharply into the drama as she picked up the TV remote and clicked off the picture. Carrie hadn’t even heard her come in.

  ‘Oh, Rosie,’ Carrie wailed, ‘I was enjoying that movie. It was right at the end. It was so beautiful, and now I won’t know what happened.’

  ‘Who cares,’ Rosemary said. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get busy.’

  Carrie got up and followed her into the kitchen. ‘How did you get on?’ she asked. ‘Did you meet the new guy, Kurt Hellman?’

  ‘Yes, in Douglas’ office. And I’ve invited him for dinner this evening.’

  ‘This evening?’

  ‘At 6.30, to be precise.’ Rosemary turned, looking around her, thinking out loud. ‘Now, what shall we have?’

  *

  Wearing an ankle-length gown of deep blue silk, Rosemary moved to the window and peered down the drive. It was 6.50 and there was still no sign of Kurt Hellman. She began to fret, thinking about the duck in the oven. She should have left the dinner to Carrie; the last thing she wanted was for Kurt to arrive and find her in an apron, with grease on her fingers. Turning from the window, she crossed the room and flung open the door. ‘Carrie…!’

  From Carrie’s room came the sound of Carrie’s voice in song, and Rosemary recognised the familiar words of ‘Ten Cents a Dance.’

  ‘Ten fucking cents!’ Rosemary muttered as she strode along the landing. Wrenching open Carrie’s door, she walked in. Carrie, standing before the mirror, broke off singing. ‘Sorry, Rosie, she said, ‘I didn’t hear you knock.’

  ‘I didn’t knock.’

  ‘Is he here?’

  ‘No, he’s not. And when you’ve finished with your Doris Day impersonations I’d like you to go down and look at the bird. And be ready to let Kurt in when he rings. Okay?’

  ‘Okay, of course.’

  *

  When Kurt Hellman arrived a few minutes later, Carrie showed him into the living room. He was not what she had expected. She had guessed from Rosemary’s behaviour that he must have more attractions than Douglas, but she had not been prepared for him to look quite like this. In his late thirties, he was tall, over six feet. His hair was almost black, his eyes a deep blue. He had a straight nose and firm, strong jaw. The smile he gave showed white, even teeth. He wore a light-weight grey suit and his pale-lemon shirt made a striking contrast with his tan.

  At the bar Carrie poured him a Scotch and soda. As she handed him his drink, Rosemary came into the room. Smiling, she moved to Kurt, hand outstretched.

  ‘Welcome,’ she smiled. ‘Glad you could get here.’

  ‘My apologies,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I got held up in traffic.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Rosemary. ‘Anyway, we’re eating very simply.’ She gestured to the sofa. ‘Take a seat while I get myself a drink.’

  As Kurt sat down she poured herself a vodka-tonic then moved to sit at the other end of the sofa. While she and Kurt chatted, Carrie sat for the most part silent, listening to their conversation. After a few minutes Rosemary put down her drink and got up.

  ‘Carrie, darling,’ she said, ‘give me a hand in the kitchen, will you?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Avoiding Kurt’s gaze, Carrie murmured, ‘Excuse me,’ and followed Rosemary out of the room.

  In the kitchen, Rosemary reached for her apron, saying as she did so, ‘If you can tear your eyes away from his crotch for five minutes maybe we can finish preparing dinner.’ Then, seeing the expression of outraged horror that swept over Carrie’s face, she added quickly with a laugh, ‘Only joking, for Christ’s sake.’ She patted Carrie lightly on the cheek. ‘Little Miss Goody Goody.’

  *

  Dinner was a success, and when it was over, Rosemary went back out to the kitchen to make coffee. A minute later Carrie was at her side.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Rosemary said. ‘After coffee we’re going to go through a couple of numbers. See how it shapes up.’

  ‘You’re gonna sing? Great.’

  ‘Well, we’ll do our best.’

  Half an hour later Rosemary led Kurt into the music room. Carrie watched them go, then let herself out of the house.

  The humidity of the day had gone, and the evening was cool and clear. A light wind was gentle on her bare arms, and she stood breathing in the sweet night air. From inside the house came the sound of the piano as Kurt played a few chords and arpeggios. Then, after a little introduction came Rosemary’s voice as she began to sing. It was an old Rodgers and Hart song:

  Once I laughed when I heard you saying

  That I’d be playing solitaire, uneasy in my easy chair.

  It never entered my mind…

  The familiar song was too melancholy for Carrie’s mood, and she moved away from the sound. Near the lawn she saw, glowing dimly in the grass, the cat’s dishes, both now empty. She took up the water dish, refilled it at the garden tap and placed it on the grass again. ‘Sorry about that, Kitty,’ she murmured. ‘I’m afraid you slipped my mind. But I won’t forget you tomorrow.’

  Moving past the pool to the end of the garden, she stood looking down to where the dark, wide expanse of the Hudson flowed by. She felt very much alone tonight. Somehow the completeness of the duo in the house made her feel superfluous and slightly resentful, like a third child when only two can play.

  She moved to the bench and sat down. She had never realised, until this moment, just how insulated their lives – hers and Rosemary’s – had become over the years. Rosemary’s absence from the world of entertainment had brought them a new way of living – detached and separate from the world they had known. Away from the shows, the glare, they had, over time, found a simpler life. And now it looked as if that simpler life was going. Changes were taking place. She had encouraged Rosemary, but now she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She wanted Rosemary to be happy, of course she did, but even so…

  As she shifted restlessly on the bench something soft and warm moved against her foot. She started slightly and, looking down, saw the cat.

  ‘Hello, Kitty.’ Her voice was a murmur. ‘I didn’t see you there.’

  She stooped and gently lifted the animal onto her lap. For a few moments he remained tense, ready to spring away, but she soothed him, stroking his soft fur. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’ Her voice was low and crooning. ‘How come you hang around here?’ she said. ‘Don’t you have any home of your own, a pretty little kitty-cat like you?’

  As she held the cat in her arms she felt the tension drain from his body, and after a while he began to purr.

  …..SEVEN

  Two weeks had passed since their first meeting, and Rosemary and Kurt sat on the porch, sipping their drinks while the shadows lengthened on the lawn and the smoke from their cigarettes drifted on the late afternoon air.

  They were alone at the house now, Carrie having driven into Manhattan to see a show. With several hours' work behind them on various songs and arrangements, the subject had turned to other matters concerning the forthcoming concert.

  ‘I guess you haven’t heard anything from Douglas,’ Rosemary said, ‘about finding a producer for the show?’

  Kurt shook his head. ‘No, he’s said nothing to me. But it’s early days yet.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but the time will go so fast, I just know it.’ She stubbed out her cigarette. ‘We’re meeting tomorrow. Maybe he’ll have some news for me then. We’ve got to find the right venue, too.’

  ‘Oh, Doug’ll deliver the goods, Rosemary, you can depend on it.’

  She nodded. ‘You have a lot of faith in him, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe you’re first cousins. You’re not at all alike.’

  ‘No, we’re not. Not in looks, anyway.’

  ‘But you’re close, right?

  He nodded. ‘I guess we are. We grew up together.’

  ‘So he told me.’

  ‘His mother raised me after my own mother died.’ He took a drink from his glass. ‘And Doug always looked out for me. Being those few years older he was always pretty much like a big brother.’

  Rosemary watched him as he put down his glass. During their hours of working together she had learned a little of his history. He had been married, but was now divorced. Added to that, he appeared to be presently unattached – romantically, at any rate.

  ‘What time’s Carrie due back?’ he asked.

  ‘Not till pretty late, I’d guess.’

  He nodded. ‘I have the feeling she doesn’t exactly approve of me.’

  ‘What? Why? What makes you say that? What has she said?’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t anything she’s said.’

  ‘What, then?’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s just a feeling I have.’

  ‘No, you’re imagining it.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘I wouldn’t worry about it. I don’t think she exactly approves of any man.’

  ‘You mean she likes girls?’ He looked both amused and surprised.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Rosemary laughed. ‘Don’t get that idea. It’s just that – well, once she was let down pretty badly by a guy, and she took it hard. You think people get over things like that – but maybe not everybody does. I don’t think Carrie has. And I think she now mistrusts men – generally. A little scared of them too, I guess. You mustn’t take it personally.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not bothered by it.’ He took a drag on his cigarette, stubbed it out. ‘I’d better think about starting back,’ he said.