The sound of the bell came again, and seeing no sign of the maid, she got up from the stair and made her way down into the hall. Opening the door, she saw a man standing on the threshold. She didn’t recognise him.

  ‘Good evening,’ she said as she offered her hand. Then added, smiling, ‘I think you might be Wes Tarrant’s friend, are you?’

  ‘Yes, I am, Rosemary,’ he said, smiling. They shook hands. He was tall, slightly running to fat, his thinning hair greying. ‘I’m late I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘Wes left me a note with your address. I hope it’s okay, inviting myself like this. I said to Wes I’d really like to see you.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I told Wes you’d be most welcome, so long as you don’t mind taking potluck.’ She turned, gesturing off. ‘Wes is through there in the dining room. Let me have your coat.’

  He took off his coat, handed it to her. They were alone, away from the hubbub. She was waiting for him to give his name, but he stood silent, gazing at her. And then after a few moments it came to her that there was something familiar about him. She was about to speak, when he said, not taking his eyes from her face, ‘You don’t know who I am, do you?’

  ‘I – I think I do,’ she said. ‘Have I met you with Wes sometime?’

  ‘Oh, no. We met way back. Well over twenty years ago.’

  ‘Over twenty years? Oh, so far back.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Of course you realise I’d have been all of twelve or thirteen then.’

  Going along with her joke, he said with a chuckle, ‘Twelve or thirteen! Oh, if that!’

  She frowned. ‘But I do know your face. Were you on bass for me when I played at the Apollo Gold?’

  He shook his head, leaned forward a little. ‘D’you remember a show called Save a Place For Me?’

  And the familiar look, the familiar voice that had hovered in her mind now settled.

  ‘Michael,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘You got it.’

  She stepped back, her eyes suddenly cold. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘What?’ His smile had vanished.

  ‘I asked you what you wanted.’ Her words were measured.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘What do you mean? I came along to see you, that’s all.’

  ‘Okay, so now you’ve seen me.’ She held out his coat. ‘Here, take your coat. I’m afraid you can’t stay.’

  Frowning, he took his coat from her. ‘Jesus Christ, some welcome.’

  She pointed back towards the living room. ‘Listen,’ she hissed, ‘Carrie is in there.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Carrie. Carrie Markham. You have to go.’

  He just stood there.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she said. ‘You fucking deaf?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know she’d be here.’

  ‘Well, you know it now.’ She stepped past him and opened the door. ‘You have to leave – this minute.’

  ‘How was I to know?’ he said.

  ‘Just go.’ Her eyes were like ice. ‘I want you off my property and out of my sight.’ With her words she put her hands on his chest and gave him a shove. He staggered back, and for a moment had to fight to keep his footing. ‘Hey – hey,’ he said, ‘take it easy.’

  ‘Get out!’

  Standing on the porch, he faced her, breathing hard, his face pale. ‘You need to watch your manners, Rosemary,’ he said. ‘I came here in good faith and –’

  ‘Get out.’

  He raised a hand, forefinger pointing at her. ‘Okay – but just remember – two can play at that game.’

  ‘Get out,’ she said. ‘Get out, you son of a bitch! Get the fuck out and don’t ever come back!’

  He gazed at her a moment longer, then turned away, stepping down from the porch. As she watched him start off along the drive she heard her name called. Turning, she saw Tom Ringler coming towards her.

  ‘There you are,’ he said. His smile was broad. ‘I was beginning to think you’d run out on me.’

  She closed the door. I was just saying goodbye to one of my guests.’

  ‘He was leaving so early?’

  ‘Yes – something came up.’

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked. ‘Let me get you one.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. Not right now. I – I must circulate.’

  He reached out and briefly touched her arm. ‘If you like, I can stay around for a bit later on – help you clear up a little.’

  Such an invitation from this nice young man was something that, only ten minutes ago, she would have welcomed. Not now. What magic there was had gone out of the evening.

  She smiled at him. ‘Ah, that’s so nice of you, Tom, but I feel I’ve got a bit of a head coming on. I think when all this is over I shall just go straight to bed.’

  ……TEN

  Sighing loudly, her impatience growing, Rosemary sat facing Douglas across his desk, waiting for him to complete a telephone conversation with one of his clients. But then, at last, with a firm ‘G’bye now’, he replaced the receiver and turned to her, giving an over-bright, now-you-have-my-undivided-attention smile. Her answering smile was fleeting and lukewarm. She got straight to the point. ‘Okay, Douglas, what’s happening?’ she said. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘What have I done?’

  ‘Yes, what have you done? Have you fixed anything yet? Have you found anyone interested in producing my show?’

  In response he raised his hands, as if warding off an attack. ‘Hey, hey,’ he said, his smile uncertain, ‘slow down a little, Rosemary. Take it easy.’

  ‘I’m taking it as easy as I can,’ she said evenly. ‘Just tell me what’s happening.’ Watching his face as he ducked and groped for answers, she realised, quite suddenly, that in spite of all her efforts to do otherwise, she simply didn’t like him.

  ‘Rosemary, I’m working on it,’ he said. ‘Believe me, I am.’

  She nodded. ‘You’re working on it. What does that mean?’

  He sighed. ‘Rosemary, these things take time.’

  ‘You’re damn right they do – too much time. Listen, I want to make sure I get the date I’m after. And the right venue. I don’t mind telling you, I’m getting nervous. I can’t see what’s so difficult.’

  When he did not respond, she said sharply, ‘Douglas, tell me – what exactly is the problem here? There must be any number of producers who’d be ready to back me.’ He remained silent. ‘Well, aren’t there?’ she said. ‘You have tried, haven’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘Well, tell me.’

  He shrugged. ‘Okay, well, I’ve approached a few of the bigger ones, but sorry to say they all seem fairly – committed – to other projects…’

  She frowned. ‘Committed? What are you trying to tell me?’ She leaned forward in her chair. ‘You trying to tell me they don’t want to handle the job? Is that what you’re saying? I don’t believe it. Who did you try?’

  ‘Well – John Balfour first, then Jason Brierly.’

  ‘What? You’re telling me Brierly didn’t want it? I know him. He would have jumped at it.’

  Douglas shrugged, spread his hands. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but he didn’t. I’m afraid he’s already got his commitments.’ He could hardly tell her the truth, that Brierly’s reaction had been one of amused surprise, followed by a firm, unequivocal statement that he was not in the least interested.

  ‘Well, to hell with him,’ she said. ‘Try King and Waterman.’

  ‘Well – I don’t know…’

  ‘Well, I do damn well know,’ she said. ‘And I’m telling you.’

  He wilted slightly under her attack. ‘All right – I’ll get in touch with them. I’ll write them today.’

  ‘You’ll write them?’ she said witheringly.

  ‘Rosemary, listen –’

  ‘No, you listen. This isn’t some pen-friendship where you drop a line every Christmas and birthday. This is my career. And you’re supposed to be looking after it. Don’t write to them, Douglas – get on the phone!’

  For a moment they glared at one another, then Rosemary, feeling that she had overstepped the mark, shrugged and looked away. ‘I’m sorry. Look – do it the way you think best. I guess you know how to handle these matters.’

  He didn’t look at her. ‘Leave it with me,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘We’ll get you there.’

  She sat in silence for a moment, then got up, walked to the window, and stood looking down onto the busy street below. ‘This isn’t an easy time for me,’ she said with a deep sigh. She turned back to face him. ‘I know you think I can get pretty impossible – but nothing’s come to me on a plate. I’ve had to hustle all my life.’ She sighed again, then added, ‘I have to say – Kurt’s done wonders with the music.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ Douglas said. ‘And we’ve got some pretty sharp publicity underway. Things are moving. You want to look at these?’ He took some newspaper cuttings from a file and laid them on the desk before him, spreading them out. They were from British national newspapers and magazines, all giving reports of Rosemary’s impending return to England. Rosemary moved back to the desk, put on her spectacles and began to glance over the clippings. After a minute she gave a little nod of approval.

  ‘Yeah, well, okay,’ she said, ‘that’ll do for a start.’

  ‘Aren’t you satisfied?’

  ‘Like I said, it’ll do for a start.’

  ‘I worked damn hard to get this stuff out,’ Douglas said. ‘And I’m no PR man.’

  ‘You did fine,’ she said. She took off her spectacles and glanced at her watch. It was nearly time to meet Kurt for their lunch date. ‘I must be going.’ She turned, heading towards the door. ‘I’ll hear from you, right?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Douglas said, arranging files on his desk. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Good.’ She nodded to him and left.

  *

  Later, over the restaurant table, Kurt smiled at her. She smiled back and sipped at her dry martini.

  ‘So how did your meeting go with Doug?’ Kurt asked.

  She frowned. ‘I was afraid you’d ask me that.’

  ‘Hey? Why?’

  As she hesitated, searching for words, he said, frowning, ‘Tell me, Rosemary. You can tell me.’

  ‘Can I? Your loyalties are with Douglas.’

  ‘Listen, I like to think I can be objective.’

  She nodded. ‘Okay, well, the truth is, I’m getting concerned.’

  ‘Concerned?’

  ‘Yes. Things aren’t going as I’d anticipated. I don’t know which end is up. I’m not sure of anything. I’m getting very jumpy. I just hope it’s all going to work out okay in the end.’

  ‘I’m sure it will.’

  ‘Yes? I wish I could be as sure.’

  ‘Rosemary,’ Kurt said, ‘this is not an easy business, you know that. But I trust Doug – implicitly. He’s a great guy – and you must remember that his own reputation’s on the line here. He’s not gonna risk looking like an idiot. He’s not in this for fun. He’s in this for success, like you. I’m sure you’ve got no worries, believe me.’

  ‘That’s what I hoped you’d say,’ she said, then added with a sigh, ‘Oh God, Kurt, I’m like a cat on hot bricks these days. I just can’t wait to get back to England and get started.’

  He nodded. ‘I know how you must feel, believe me. But it’ll be okay.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘It will be. And it’s going to be an exciting time for you.’

  ‘My God, yes!’ she said. ‘Say, listen – Carrie’s found this little country cottage for me as a base. It’s a darling place – down in Berkshire.’

  ‘Berkshire?’

  ‘Berkshire, yes. It’s not so very far from London. It’ll be great. And there’ll be plenty of room, so you’ll have to come out there for a break.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘Sounds great. I’ll do that.’

  ‘It’s going to cost a bomb,’ she said, ‘but so what. I need a place where I can take it easy. We’re getting a piano installed and everything. If we’re doing my show early in March I shall want to go over there right after Christmas.’

  ‘Two months before? How come you need all that time?’

  ‘Believe me, I shall. I’ll need time to work and prepare. And anyway, I’ve got other things to do besides.’

  He waited for her to elaborate, but she said nothing. She had no intention of telling him about her date with the cosmetic surgeon. He’d know nothing about that until he saw the results.

  Back on the subject of the concert, she asked: ‘How long will you need to be in London before the show?’

  ‘Not that long. I’ll have to get the musicians together, rehearse with them. Two or three weeks at the most. The less time the better. They don’t cost peanuts.’

  She nodded. ‘I have no doubt of that.’

  He took in her frown. ‘It’ll happen, Rosemary. Don’t worry. It’s not going to be easy, and it’s not going to be cheap, but it’s all going to happen.’

  …..ELEVEN

  The days, the weeks went by, and now here they were, into November, and still no producer had been found. Douglas insisted that he was exploring all possibilities, but the fact remained that, in spite of his efforts, he’d been unable to find anyone willing to put up the financial backing.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Rosemary said to Carrie, ‘how did I manage to get myself landed with that useless bastard! All the hustlers in this town and I have to pick him. Anybody else would have had the whole thing settled by now. If I leave it to him I’m never going to get there, the bloody, fucking useless shit!’

  ‘Oh, Rosie, Rosie…’ Carrie winced at the language, briefly closing her eyes.

  ‘I know,’ Rosemary said, ‘but that man’s enough to make God himself curse.’

  Minutes later, her anger growing, Rosemary telephoned Douglas and told him they needed to meet. Could he come out to the house? Hearing the edge in her voice, and anxious to appease her, he agreed at once.

  He arrived just after three, and Carrie took his coat and showed him into the living room. Rosemary would be down shortly, she said. As she went to hang up his coat, he sat down on the sofa. Seconds later, Rosemary came sweeping into the room.

  ‘Right,’ she said at once, directing her words to Douglas as he got up, ‘what’s happening? Tell me what’s happening.’

  ‘Hi, Rosemary –’ Douglas tentatively reached out a hand. She ignored it.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she said. ‘Just tell me.’

  ‘You mean –?’

  ‘You know what I mean. I want to know what’s happening. This is my career, and I don’t have a damn clue what’s going on. So tell me, will you? And no crap! Because I’m sick of it. Just tell me straight – have you managed to come up with anything?’

  ‘Rosemary,’ he started, ‘you know I’ve been really trying to –’

  ‘So it’s nothing,’ she cut in. She gave a contemptuous nod. ‘What have you come up with? Sweet fuck all – that’s what you’ve come up with.’

  ‘Rosemary – listen –’

  ‘No, you listen,’ she said. ‘And carefully.’ She went on, pronouncing the words deliberately: ‘There isn’t much time left – are you aware of that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Or maybe that hadn’t occurred to you?’

  ‘I told you, yes – I am aware of it,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been sleeping all day.’

  She shook her head. ‘Douglas,’ she said, ‘let’s get this straight. In all these weeks you haven’t been able to interest one single producer or entrepreneur. Not one who’s willing to promote the show – or even ask for a part of it. And I know London’s got to be filled with people who’d jump at the chance. You want to get up off your backside and do something for a change.’

  Tight-lipped, Douglas took a step away. ‘If that’s the way you feel about it, Rosemary,’ he said, ‘there’s no point in continuing this conversation.’

  ‘You’re damn right there!’ she flung at him. ‘I should have known from the start that you’d be useless.’

  He turned, set-faced, his nostrils flaring. ‘Okay, Rosemary,’ he said evenly, ‘if truth is the name of the game, then I’ll tell you a thing or two.’

  ‘Don’t bother.’ Her voice was withering, but he went on.

  ‘I’ve spent a great deal of time, energy and money on you,’ he said. ‘And all that publicity – all those phone calls – and what have I got for it? What will I get for it? Nothing. I did it all on spec. But I’m not complaining. That’s one of the hazards of the job. But don’t accuse me of not trying.’

  She shot him a look of hatred, then, turning in the direction of the hall, yelled out, ‘Carrie? Carrie, are you there?’

  In moments, Carrie was in the room.

  With a brittle smile, Rosemary turned to her. ‘Carrie, sweetie, do me a favour, will you?’

  ‘What? Of course.’

  ‘Go and write me out a cheque, will you? Make it out for – for two thousand dollars.’ She indicated Douglas with a toss of her head. ‘Pay him off.’

  Carrie, wide-eyed, stood looking from one to the other, astonishment showing clear on her face.

  ‘Now,’ Rosemary said. ‘Do it now. I want him gone.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course…’ Carrie nodded, and with one more look at their tense faces, turned and hurried away.

  As Carrie went from the room Rosemary turned back to Douglas where he stood ashen-faced. ‘I think two thousand should more than cover any work you’ve done for me,’ she said, ‘and any expenses you might have incurred.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t want your money, Rosemary,’ he said, then: ‘I’d be glad if you’d ask Carrie to get my coat.’

  ‘You’ll get your coat. And you’ll get your money too.’

  ‘I told you,’ he said, ‘I don’t want your money. And if you want my advice, you’ll hang on to it. You might just find you need every cent you can get.’

  ‘Thanks. If I want your advice I’ll ask for it.’ She turned and called out in the direction of Carrie’s departure: ‘You got that cheque, Carrie? Sometime this week would be good.’ Moving away, she crossed to the window and stood looking out. A minute of silence passed and then Carrie came back into the room.