Sister's Trio Squad

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Delia was on form all right, Nancy thought as she slipped quickly into the small adjoining room where extra costumes, make-up and wigs were kept, and where Jeannie had obviously been making the mint tea. Luck was with her tonight, that was certain. Nancy poured the contents of the little bottle into the cup and stirred it. The colour darkened a little but with any luck, by the time Jeannie had finished fixing the headband, Delia would have to gulp it down and would hardly taste it. Then a thought struck her. It would be luke-warm by then and what if Delia refused to drink it? She wouldn't, for there wasn't time to make more, she told herself sternly. With a nod to Jeannie, Nancy quickly slipped out

of the room. 'Did you get them?' Laura asked.

No. She's in a foul mood and so is Jeannie and I don't blame her. Oh, hell, I'm all behind now!'

'Hurry up then, I don't know why you made all that fuss just for curling your eyelashes. Hells Bells! What's going on now?'

The noise from the end of the corridor had risen consid erably. Jeannie could be heard yelling and then she started to scream. There was instant pandemonium as they all tried to run into the corridor at once, but Nancy got there first.

Jeannie was frantic. 'For God's sake get someone

quickly, Nancy! She's ill! She's really ill! Oh, Mr Christy.' George elbowed his way through. 'She's collapsed. She was rolling in agony, Mr. Christy,

she was, on my life!'

For an instant Nancy was guilt-stricken. Dear God, she'd never intended to kill her! She pushed her way forward after George and saw, over his shoulder, Delia lying on the floor, face down.

'Let her get some air! Move back! Move back! Joe, go and get an ambulance and be quick! The rest of you get back to your dressing rooms. The curtain goes up in fifteen minutes. Nancy, you'll have to go on tonight and move yourself.'

Nancy caught Jeannie by the wrist and pulled her into the tiny back room. 'You heard him. Pull yourself together and get my

costume ready.' She heard the raised voices in the other room and the clanging of the ambulance bell and, as she struggled into her costume, Delia was being carried out on a stretcher.

'George, what's the matter with her? What is it?' Nancy

called to him.

"They don't know for sure, but it could be appendix. She's had a "grumbling" one for years. Now hurry up. want you out there on time!' I

Appendix! If that was true she needn't have gone to all that trouble. And she'd thought she'd poisoned Delia!

Edward got quite a start when he saw her. He knew she was not happy with her career, but then Nancy would never be happy, she would always want more and more. He hadn't heard that Delia was ill, or indeed that anything was wrong with her at all, and he knew she would sooner die than let Nancy take her place. The fading star doggedly refused to be outshone. So how had Nancy managed it? He knew the show as well as she did, so he excused himself and went backstage to wait for her. It was there he heard of Delia's sudden collapse and removal to hospital and his suspicions deepened. He wouldn't put anything past Nancy, and it had been known to happen before, although usually Epsom Salts were used, which was why leading ladies often refused point blank to drink anything fizzy, except Champagne poured from a bottle they could see. Edward watched her from the wings. Nancy had been overjoyed with the reviews she'd had the last time and now she was putting her soul into the show to make sure she got them again. If anything serious was wrong with Delia, he knew he had a new star on his hands. He rubbed his chin ruefully. She deserved it. She'd 'served her time'; it wasn't fair to hold her back any longer.

'Tell Miss O'Maxwell I'll be waiting in the car for her, will you, Joe?' he called. The lad nodded as he went out.

'So, tell me how you managed that? Did you poison her or beat her unconscious with your shoe?'

Nancy laughed, her eyes sparkling. If only he knew how close he'd come to the truth. Appendix or not, she had intended to make Delia very ill. 'Appendicitis! Apparently she'd had something called a "grumbling" one for years." 'Lucky you! Poor Delia! I'll send her some flowers

because I know you won't.'

'Why should I? She's had her day, now it's my turn!' 'Oh, the arrogance of youth! Where would you like to go to celebrate?"

"The Ritz or the Café Royal!' He laughed 'All right, the Café Royal.'

You mean it? Oh, I'll have to go home and change. Turn around Edward!' 'Nancy, we don't have time for you to prink and preen.

Do you want to go or not?' 'Yes! Oh, who cares if its only my old dress! Soon I'll be able to buy them from all the best shops and when I go into restaurants people will recognize me! Oh, Edward, do you know what that means to me?' 'I've a fair idea! But don't go out and buy up Bond

Street just yet!' 'But I will earn more, won't I?'

'Yes, less my ten per cent. I haven't taken it before because, my dear Nancy, I felt sorry for you, struggling on that pittance."

'You're teasing me?'

'I'm not! I intend to reap the benefit of my invest

ment!'

"Ten per cent!'

'Nancy, I didn't take you for a fool. You've known all

along that that is the usual percentage.'

'Will I have enough left to get a nice place of my

own?'

'Yes, but I wouldn't rush things, wait until you've some money in the bank first.'

I won't have much with you taking ten per cent of it, she thought, then she shrugged. Nothing was going to dim her happiness tonight. Even if she went right to the top, she'd never forget this night.

As they pulled up outside the restaurant and Edward got out to open the door for her, a young newspaper reporter dashed forward.

'Miss O'Maxwell? I'd hoped to see you. I've just heard what a great success you were tonight! I'm hoping to get on in my field, journalism, could I have your exclusive story?"

'No Press Releases', Edward said firmly. 'Oh, Edward, don't be so mean! I haven't got a "story" as such,' she smiled.

"Then can you tell me how it feels to be an overnight success?"

The smile faded. 'Overnight success! There's no such thing! I've worked hard for months for this chance. No one just steps on to a stage and becomes an instant success! Excuse me.'

You changed your tune?' Edward commented dryly. 'Are they all such fools?" Nancy said waspishly.

No, he was just young, inexperienced and looking for what they call a "scoop"."

Buoyant though her mood was, Nancy couldn't help but be aware of the looks cast in her direction in the restaurant and she wished she'd worn something else. Well, the next time she came here things would be different.

Edward handed her the menu but as it was written

entirely in French she stared over the rim of it at him.

I'll order for both of us, if you like." She nodded. 'Can we have Champagne?'

'If you like, but I don't want you to get drunk. You're half-way there already on success! And, if everything goes well...'

'What?"

"There's some talk of a London production of another

Broadway success."

'Oh, I'd give anything to star in a brand new musical! What's it called? What's it about? Is it modern?'

'It's not "modern" as you put it. It's set in America's Deep South and its called 'Steamboat'. It is already a success, so those who get the four star parts and there are four...' He spread his hands expressively.

'Edward, I want a part! I don't care how, but you've got to get me it! I'll give you fifty per cent of everything I earn if I get it."

'My God! You mean it, don't you?'

'Of course I mean it! I've never been more serious in

my life before.' 'I can't give you a signed and sealed guarantee, but I'll do my best and the rest is up to you. But don't think it I will be easy! You're not the only one who can sing and dance!'

'But I do it better than any of them!'

'You're being arrogant again, Nancy.' 'I'm not, I'm being honest.'

'Don't you ever think of anything else?' 'No, what else is there?"

To her astonishment Edward leaned over the table and kissed her full on the lips and when he drew away she

gasped, confused. "There's that!'

'Edward! What...? Do you mean you . . . care?' He laughed. 'No, I don't love you, if that's what you mean. That was just a sample, if you like, of some of the other pleasures in life that you're hell bent on missing out on!'