Mistress at a Price (22 page)

‘
But all alone on Friday evening?
’
David Adamson clicked his tongue reprovingly.
‘
That won
’
t do, sweetheart.
’

‘
I
’
m fine.
’
Cat looked past him, but there was no sign of Sharine.
‘
Anyway, you seem to be on your own, too.
’

‘
Temporarily,
’
her father returned airily.
‘
I
’
m treating Sharine to a few days at a health farm.
’

‘
Oh.
’
Cat digested this.
‘
Is she feeling off-colour?
’

‘
We
’
ve been up in Scotland for the past week, and it rained every day. She was not impressed.
’
There was a faint dryness in his tone.
‘
Have you eaten?
’
He handed her a bulging carrier bag.
‘
I stopped off at the deli round the corner. There
’
s chicken Caesar salad, bread, cheese and a peach tart. Oh, and a bottle of Pouilly Fumé.
’

‘
Wonderful.
’
Cat took the bag into the kitchen and began to unpack it. David followed her in, pouring himself a beaker of coffee and leaning against the sink.

‘
So why were you in Scotland?
’
she asked.
‘
You surely haven
’
t taken up golf
—
or fishing?
’

‘
God forbid.
’
David gave a smile of pure satisfaction.
‘
I
’
ve been staying with Nevil Beverley and his wife. He
’
s just finishing his new play, and I
’
m to play the lead. That
’
s really why I returned from California.
’
He lowered his voice confidentially.
‘
I
’
m going back into the theatre, and Oliver Ingham is directing me. He was staying with Nevil too, and we thrashed the whole thing out.
’

Cat
’
s brows rose.
‘
Really?
’
She shook her head.
‘
I thought you were totally dedicated to films.
’

‘
I was.
’
Her father shrugged.
‘
But it
’
s good to rethink
—
change directions occasionally.
’

‘
Yes,
’
Cat said slowly.
‘
I suppose it is.
’
If it
’
s not too late
, she thought, and bit back a sigh.

‘
So, what
’
s the play about?
’
she enquired, as they were eating.
‘
I presume it
’
s a comedy?
’

‘
Shakespeare.
’
David drank some wine.
‘
He
’
s enjoying success as a playwright, and he
’
s fallen in love with Mary Fitton, who was one of Queen Elizabeth
’
s maids of honour, and possibly the Dark Lady of the sonnets as well. He has to go back to Stratford to tell his wife Anne Hathaway that their marriage is over.
’

He leaned back in his chair.
‘
But she has other ideas, and he finds it harder to tear himself away than he thought. And then Mary Fitton comes to find him and take him back to London. And they fight for his heart and soul.
’

‘
Which Mary Fitton wins, presumably?
’

‘
Neither of them win.
’
David smiled at her.
‘
Because they both realise that his only real love is the theatre.
’
He shook his head.
‘
It
’
s a wonderful script, full of poetry and emotion. I can
’
t wait to start rehearsals.
’

Cat took some more salad.
‘
So Sharine will be going back to America?
’

‘
On the contrary.
’
David studiously avoided her gaze.
‘
She
’
s going to play Mary Fitton.
’

Cat put her fork down.
‘
The Dark Lady?
’
she asked incredulously.
‘
Can she act?
’

‘
Of course,
’
David said stiffly.
‘
She has real talent. She read for Oliver and he was most impressed. She
’
ll wear a wig, naturally, but that
’
s no problem.
’

‘
None at all,
’
Cat agreed drily.
Just as long as you
’
re not planning to cast her as my stepmother as well
, she thought, with an inward grimace. She paused.
‘
And who
’
s playing Anne Hathaway?
’

‘
Not decided yet.
’
David refilled their glasses.
‘
Oliver has a few actresses in mind.
’
He looked at her, frowning faintly.
‘
So you
’
ll be seeing much more of me from now on.
’
He hesitated.
‘
The prospect doesn
’
t seem to have you jumping for joy.
’

‘
I
’
m very pleased,
’
Cat said steadily.
‘
I just have a lot of other things on my mind.
’

David seemed in no hurry to leave. He clearly wanted to talk about the play, and Cat brewed more coffee and listened, wondering, as she did so, what her mother
’
s reaction would be to the news.

But I have enough problems of my own, she thought soberly, after he
’
d eventually gone. I can
’
t worry about two people who don
’
t even want to be in the same room with each other. And she sighed.

She was just finishing breakfast the next morning when she heard the doorbell. She went slowly to answer it, bracing herself for more disappointment.

It was the same courier standing outside, but this time he was holding a bouquet of flowers
—
pink, deeply scented roses and freesias. He handed her the card in its tiny envelope.

‘
I
’
ve been told to wait for a reply, madam.
’

The card said simply,
‘
Tomorrow night
—
please?
’

She buried her face in the flowers, inhaling their fragrance. Her voice was husky.
‘
The message is
—
that
—
that will be fine.
’

The door closed and she stood for a moment, her eyes closed. She thought, Tomorrow night. Then repeated it aloud, over and over again, her voice high with laughter as she danced round her living room, with Liam
’
s flowers held close against her breasts.

It seemed to Cat that Sunday night would never come. She
’
d spent most of Saturday morning going through her wardrobe and deciding that most of the things in it were boring, especially her underwear drawer. During the afternoon she
’
d gone shopping for replacements, choosing pretty lacy things in pastel colours rather than the overtly sexy gear that most of the boutiques were offering.

On Sunday she went for a walk in the park, lunched at a bistro near her flat, and tried and failed to read the newspapers. She applied a face pack, and took a long and leisurely bath, then gave herself a manicure.

She was wildly, stingingly nervous as she began to pack her overnight bag. Liam hadn
’
t mentioned a time, but she wanted to be ready when the car came for her.

I don
’
t want to waste a minute of my time with him, she told herself.

She chose one of her new bra and brief sets in white brod-erie anglaise, topping them with a linen shift dress in a soft, deep blue. She was just fastening the zip when the knock on the door came.

‘
I
’
m coming,
’
she called, as she dealt with the safety chain and undid the latch. Only to find herself confronted by her mother.

‘
Hello, darling.
’
Vanessa Carlton sauntered in, unfastening the jacket of her pale primrose suit.
‘
They gave me your message at the hotel, so I thought I
’
d come round and see you. Spend a nice girlie evening together. Did you want anything special?
’

‘
Well, no.
’
Cat swallowed her dismay.
‘
It was just that I hadn
’
t seen you for a while and…
’

‘
Well, you
’
ll be seeing much more of me from now on.
’
Vanessa disposed herself elegantly on the sofa.
‘
If you
’
ve any Chardonnay in the fridge, I
’
d like some,
’
she added.

‘
Yes,
’
Cat said mechanically.
‘
Yes, of course.
’
Oh, God, she wailed inwardly, as she found the corkscrew and opened the bottle. This is a disaster.

‘
Could you manage to take a few hours off early next week?
’
Vanessa asked, taking the glass Cat was proffering.
‘
I
’
d really like you to come flat-hunting with me.
’

‘
Flat-hunting?
’
Cat nearly spilled her own wine down the blue dress.
‘
You can
’
t be tired of the Savoy, surely?
’

‘
No, but I don
’
t want to take up permanent residence either.
’

‘
But I thought you
’
d be going back to Beverly Hills?
’

‘
Well, normally I would be,
’
Vanessa said.
‘
But London
’
s an interesting place at the moment. There are a couple of projects I
’
m looking at, so I
’
ve decided to stay where the work is.
’
She lifted her glass, an odd smile playing round her lips.
‘
Cheers, darling.
’

‘
And what about Gil? His work
’
s in America, isn
’
t it? He won
’
t want to stay here.
’

‘
Ah, Gil,
’
Vanessa said meditatively.
‘
Let
’
s just say that negotiations are in progress.
’

She leaned back against the cushions and looked her daughter up and down, her smile widening.

‘
You look very nice, Cathy. That
’
s a good colour for you.
’
She glanced at her watch.
‘
Would you like to go and eat somewhere?
’

Cat nerved herself.
‘
Actually, I can
’
t,
’
she said.
‘
I
’
m going out already
—
to see friends.
’