Christmas Eva (5 page)

“Thanks, Evie. I'll make sure we have it for tomorrow's performances. But what do we do for tonight? Everywhere will be closed by now.”

“Umm…” Eva thought quickly, looking over the bottles and jars. She picked one up. “Use this as a base and tell your makeup girls to go easy on the layers. It was way too thick, never mind anything else. Less is more.” She assessed Matthew. “And you'll need to take it off as soon as you come off stage, before you change out of your costume.”

He nodded. “Will do.” He rubbed his face. “It itches.”

“It will. Calamine lotion or E45 should help with that. Don't use aloe vera because it'll make it worse. You also need to avoid scented soaps until it clears up.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She picked up her program from the side. She wasn't going to admit how good it had been to get out or even to get her hands dirty again and do some work.

For a few minutes, she'd forgotten the chair and the fact she couldn't walk. It had just been her and him and the job she loved doing. She wondered if quitting had been the right decision for an instant. Then, she shook her head. Of course it was. She couldn't keep going outside. Something might happen.

Matthew caught her hand. “Eva, would it be possible for me to have your address?”

She bit her lip, biting back the gasp, as warmth shot down the entire length of her hand, then looked at him. “What for?”

“Because I'd like to see you again. Take you out for coffee. Just to say thank you.”

“There's no need…”
Are you mad?
Her inner voice all but screamed at her.
He's asking you out here and you're saying no?

“There's every need.” He hunkered down in front of the chair.

Was that a deliberate move to stop her leaving? Or was it simply so he was at her height? Either way, it had the same effect. Her heart melted into a pool of wax, and she was helpless in his gaze and the river of fire flooding from his hand, down her arm and straight to her core.

He smiled at her, fingers gently stroking the back of her hand. “Please?”

“OK, as you asked nicely…” Eva swallowed. “Fifty Raggleswood Crescent. It's in—”

“I'll find it,” he said. “Is tomorrow morning all right? I need to be here for one, so how about ten thirty?”

“I'll see you then.” She swallowed hard.

He smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

Heart racing, blood pumping in her ears, Eva struggled to comprehend what was going on as Felicity wheeled the chair from the room. Matthew Lyell wanted to have coffee with her. It wasn't a date, she knew that…but…

Matthew Lyell…me…coffee…

 

 

 

 

 

4

 

Harry arrived at the house dot on ten thirty. He hated being late for anything, probably because directors tended to throw a hissy fit if anyone dared to delay recording by even a nanosecond. But, good timekeeping never hurt anyone. And even if this wasn't a
date
date, being punctual wasn't going to hurt.

The house looked bigger than he imagined. Christmas lights hung around the eaves and doorway and on the huge fir tree by the front door. A lighted silhouette of a train hung under the kitchen window and another of a star on the side of the house. He raised his hand to ring the bell, admiring the wreath of holly and berries suspended on the door itself.

Voices came from inside the house before the door opened to reveal Felicity, who smiled at him as she buttoned her coat. “Hi, come on in.”

“Thank you.” Harry stepped into the hall. The house was warm after the chill of the December air.

“I'm off then, Evie.” Felicity raised her voice.

“No, you can't leave me, this doesn't look right.” In the quiet house Eva's panicked whisper from the other room carried as if she were on a stage.

Felicity sighed. “You look fine. I have to go to work. I know I had the morning off, but there's a crisis so I have to go in.”

“So let the boss handle it.” Eva appeared in her chair in the doorway. “This is ghastly. It makes me look like a kid in her mother's clothes.”

Felicity grabbed her bag. “Those are
my
clothes you bag of bones. You used to borrow them all the time and didn't think I ever noticed. Now I'm lending you them and you're moaning. There's gratitude.” She winked at her sister. “Now, I'm going to work, and that's the end of it.”

“Fi…”

“Eva's having wardrobe issues.” Felicity said as she crossed the room and glanced apologetically at him. “I'll see you later.” She left, shutting the door behind her.

“Hello, Eva.”

She barely glanced at him. “Hello, Matthew.”

Awkward just didn't cover how Harry felt. He'd never felt more unwelcome in his life. It took every ounce of will power he had, not to show that emotion on his face as she lifted her chin. He swallowed. “Would you rather I left?”

“No! No.” She took a deep breath. “So long as you don't mind staying here. I can't go out, not today. I'm sorry.”

“Not a problem.” Wishing she sounded a little more enthusiastic, Harry nodded. He pulled off his hat and gloves and shoved them into his coat pocket. “It's really chilly out there this morning. Did you see the frost first thing? It must have been at least an inch thick. It looked like snow.”

Eva shook her head. “No. I heard Dad scraping the ice off the car, though.”

“I managed to avoid that. The hotel has an underground car park.” He unwound his scarf, as he did her shyness changed to, was that fright? Horror? “What?”

“The rash is worse,” she said quietly. “A lot worse. You may need a doctor.”

Harry glanced in the hall mirror. He had to admit he did look awful. “Looks worse than it is,” he said, removing his coat. “The makeup will hide it.”

Eva took his coat and hung it over the bannisters. “That's just going to worsen the problem. Come on through to the kitchen.” She struggled to turn the chair around.

Harry wanted to help, but hesitated.

Eva's face creased in anger, her eyes glittered, and she muttered under her breath as the chair got stuck. “For Pete's sake!”

“May I?” he asked, unable to stand and watch any longer.

“Be my guest.” Eva flung her hands onto her lap.

Harry took hold of the arms of the chair and tried to free it. “You've managed to get this well and truly wedged between the wall and the bannisters.”

Eva's scowl deepened. Then she giggled. “Great. Now I'll have to stay here forever.”

He tilted his head and looked at her. Not giving her a chance to object, he slid his hands underneath her and deftly lifted her from the chair. Shock filled him at how little she weighed…and he'd lifted plenty of actresses.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked. “I thought this was coffee not a date. Put me down.”

“I'm freeing your chair,” he said. He set her on the stairs. “Only I can't do it with you in there.”

Eva's half smile vanished. “Are you saying I'm heavy?”

He looked askance at her. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Good, cos I'm more of a bag of bones according to Fi.” She sighed. “I know I wanted to lose a little weight but this is ridiculous.”

Turning his attention back to her chair, he frowned. “Going to have to climb over this and collapse it.” He winked. “I can put you back in it and then collapse it if you want me to.”

“You're good,” Eva said dryly.

“Really? Then I guess you don't know me very well.” He climbed over the chair and glanced over the back of it, working it out rapidly. It was the same make of chair his grandmother used. Seconds later, he'd reassembled it facing the kitchen and pulled it backwards to the base of the stairs. “Your carriage awaits,” he said.

“Am I a princess from a fairy story now? Think being in a panto has gone to your head.”

He grinned, not letting her mood affect him. He picked her up, and sat her gently in the chair. “If you want to be a fairy princess you can be.” He pushed the chair towards the kitchen, before she could argue. “So long as I don't have to be a prince. I don't think I could do a pirate prince right now.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Pirate prince would be interesting.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Nah, it'd have to be king of the pirates.”

Eva's mouth turned up slightly as she looked away.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He stopped in the doorway and put on the brakes. “Ok, miss; you're not going anywhere until you tell me what's so funny.”

She put a hand over her mouth as she composed herself. Then sucked in a deep breath. “Just had this mental picture of you as Captain Hook standing on the bow of the Jolly Roger, arms outstretched, yelling
I'm the king of the pirates.
”

Harry snorted and then belly laughed. He laughed so hard his stomach hurt and he put a hand over his middle. When he straightened, Eva was looking at him in amazement.

“It's not that funny…”

“Oh, but it is. You see, the cow on the ship was my idea and the director said I'd be bringing something from the movies in next. I
so
have to do that.”

She tilted her head. “And if I decide not to let you steal the line?”

He waved his hand. “I be the king o'the pirates, matey, an' I be a'stealing it. An' there bain't be a thing you can do about it, arrrr, Jim lad.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “I could withhold coffee…”

Harry immediately released the brake. “No, not the coffee, please anything but withholding the coffee. That's the one thing an actor relies on more than anything.” He pushed her into the kitchen.

“Thank you.” Eva put her hands on the wheels.

He looked at her. “Don't you have any gloves?”

“Why do I want gloves?” she asked.

“Stop your hands from getting sore. My grandma has these fingerless cycling ones. She's known as Racing Grandma now.”

Eva smiled. “Bet she loves that.” She wheeled herself over to the table and checked the water level in the coffee machine before turning it on.

Harry nodded. “Especially once she gets her new chair. We're getting her an electric one so she can be a little more independent.”

“I'm sure she'll like that.” She picked up the basket of coffees. “OK, we have latte macchiato, mocha, cappuccino, espresso, chococino or something called lungo. I have absolutely no idea what that is.”

“Spoiled for choice. Macchiato please.”

Eva pulled it from the basket along with a different colored one for her. “Are you really going to use that line?”

Harry nodded. “Oh, yeah. This afternoon. I'll get your sister to record it for you so you don't miss it. Unless you want to come and see for yourself.”

She shook her head, making the first cup of coffee. “I can't do that. Sugar is there if you want it.”

He perched on the chair at the table and propped his chin on his hand. “Why can't you? What are you afraid of?”

“Who says I'm afraid of anything?” She pushed the coffee over to him.

“Thank you.” He wrapped his free hand around it. “I've portrayed enough emotion over the years to recognize those same emotions in others. And in myself. And you're scared, Eva, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”

She sighed, and turned back to the coffee machine, ignoring him for a moment. “It's the rain,” she said. “I don't like water anymore. Not the rain or the shower and the bath water can only be ankle deep now. Besides people just see the chair when I go out. Have you any idea how embarrassing that is? Everyone thinks that because I'm stuck in here that I'm feebleminded as well. They look over me and ask Mum if I want fries with my meal or sugar in my tea or if I had a good night.”

“Not everyone,” he said firmly. He gazed at her intently. “I haven't done that once.”

“You're different.”

“How?”

Eva put her coffee on the table and turned the chair with difficulty to face him. “What?” She tried to act innocent as she ignored his question.

“How am I different?”

She sipped her coffee, looking flustered. “You just are. I mean you're an actor; you have to be nice to your fans. Otherwise they'll stop watching stuff you're in and you'll...be out of a job.”

He pointed at her over the rim of his cup. “Good point.” He took a long sip. “The coffee is delicious. Far better than the instant rubbish they have at the theatre. Don't tell your sister I called the coffee rubbish.”

She laughed as he sipped his coffee and decided he was going shopping on his way in and buying a coffee maker like Eva's. “Is the chair permanent?”

Eva baulked. “What kind of a question is that? Are you going to ask my weight and age next?”

He studied her. He liked her. And she treated him like...he was
just Harry
, not Matthew Lyell. “An honest one; after all you brought the subject up. What do the doctors say?”

She shrugged. “Not much.”

“Have you seen a specialist?”

“No, they'll all say the same thing. Why?”

Harry put his cup down. “My brother, Darrell, is a top orthopedic surgeon at one of the hospitals in London. I could put in a word, call in a favor, and get you an appointment to see him.”

“Thank you, but there's no point.”

“Why not? Has someone actually told you that you'll be unable to walk for the rest of your life?” He held her gaze until she shook her head. “Then why not see him?”

She shook her head. “I don't need another doctor telling me that my back is broken. Even I know what that means, even if I don't need to wear that hideous corset any longer. God put me in this chair. If God wants me to walk, then He'll heal me with a miracle. Otherwise, this is where I'll stay.”