In the interval, Katie sat perfectly still in her seat, didn’t bother to go out and stretch her legs, not wanting to break the spell, lose the magic that had been created on stage and with such potency. She could hardly wait for the next act to begin, and when it did she was once again held spellbound by the playwright’s words, the acting, the stage sets and the costumes, as was everyone else in the audience.
Katie did not want the play to end.
As she trooped out behind the other theatregoers, she could only marvel at the miracles that had been wrought on that stage tonight. She knew she had seen something truly remarkable, and it had moved and touched her beyond measure. And that’s what it was all about, wasn’t it?
Once she left the theatre and went out into the street, Katie looked around for the chauffeur she had been told would be waiting for her, to drive her to the restaurant for dinner.
Katie hurried towards him where he was waiting at the kerb, next to the Dawson car.
‘Hello, Joe,’ she said, smiling, remembering his courtesy the last time he had driven her to meet Melanie Dawson.
He smiled back, brought a hand to his cap. ‘Good evening, Miss Byrne.’ He opened the back door of the car for her and she got inside. ‘It’s the Ivy tonight,’ he told her as he closed the door.
Katie sat back, relaxing, still thinking about the performances as the car pulled away towards Soho and the Ivy. She was so glad Melanie had offered to get her a ticket for this very hot play, but then Melanie had always shown her great kindness. They had been friends for four years, and Katie was flattered that a woman so highly thought of, so important in the theatre, so chic, sophisticated and successful would want to be her friend. She looked forward to seeing her for dinner, and couldn’t wait to tell her what she thought of the play. Melanie always asked her opinion, and was interested in what she had to say about most things, not only the theatre.
Melanie Dawson spotted Katie being escorted through the famous show business restaurant, and stood up to greet her as she came to a standstill. The two women hugged, then sat down, and Melanie exclaimed, ‘You look marvellous, Katie. London certainly does agree with you. But then I said that the last time Harry and I were here.’
Katie laughed, nodded. ‘I guess it does, and I’ve been enjoying my classes at RADA. How’s Harry?’
‘He’s great and he sends his best. Stuck in New York at the moment. He’s got problems with a play. But knowing Harry, he’ll solve them.’ Melanie motioned to a waiter, looked at Katie and asked, ‘What would you like to drink?’
Katie shook her head. ‘You know I don’t really drink. But tonight I’ll have a glass of champagne, please. That’s light enough.’
‘Let’s have a bottle of Veuve Clicquot,’ Melanie said to the waiter, thanked him, and then turned back to Katie. ‘And how did you enjoy the play?’
‘I loved it. Thanks so much for arranging the ticket, Melanie. It was so kind of you to think of me.’ She leaned across the table, and went on, ‘I was very moved at times, and that’s what the theatre’s all about, having your emotions engaged, being touched, feeling what the characters are feeling, empathizing with them, living through their tragedies and heartbreaks and happier moments. And I thought the acting was superb. It’s a marvellous cast.’
‘I couldn’t have said it better, but then you’ve always been a clever girl, Katie.’
Katie smiled, simply accepted the compliment in silence. She could not help thinking how smart Melanie looked tonight, in her dark-grey silk suit, obviously an expensive designer number, and her grey South Sea pearl earrings. She was a striking woman, with her well-shaped, stylish short brown hair and deep brown eyes. Katie thought she had great flair in the way she dressed, and everything she did, in fact.
The waiter was back in a jiffy with an ice bucket filled with ice, and the bottle of champagne, which he proceeded to pour.
A moment later the two women were clinking glasses, toasting each other. Once they had taken a sip of the wine, and put their glasses down, Melanie studied Katie for a moment, then asked, ‘What did you think of Branwell?’
Katie shook her head slowly. ‘I couldn’t believe how utterly modern he was, in a sense…a drunk, a gambler, a drug addict, and a wastrel, especially of his talent. I never knew much about the Brontës and their personal lives, I only knew about their work, but the whole play was gripping, really fascinating. And Jonathan Rhyne is wonderful in that role. But they all are.’
‘I agree, and I agree about the play. It is drama at its very, very best. However, of all of them, my favourite character is Emily, perhaps because I’ve always loved Wuthering Heights.’
‘Yes, Emily is very interesting, and somewhat…’ Katie paused, then bit her lip. ‘I was going to say that she seems to be so mysterious in the play, and yet I’m not sure if I mean that exactly.’
‘I hope you do, because she was a very mysterious person in real life, so reluctant to have anything she wrote published, guarding her privacy and her innermost being, her soul, in a way. A free spirit, mystical, in a certain sense, and perhaps the one Brontë who deserves the accolade of greatness. For what it’s worth, I believe Emily Brontë was one of the great geniuses of English literature.’
‘It’s certainly made me want to read some of their books again,’ Katie exclaimed, and stopped when a man came to a standstill at their table.
Melanie cried, ‘Chris! How are you?’
The man grinned, and replied, ‘I’m good, Mel, and you?’
‘Couldn’t be better. Chris, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Katie Byrne. Katie, this is Christopher Plummer, as I know I don’t need to tell you.’
The actor smiled at her, and she smiled back, and gave him her hand, which he shook.
Melanie said, ‘Any chance of lunch or dinner, Chris? How long are you here for?’
‘A couple of days. Give me a call. Maybe we can get together.’
He smiled at them both and took his leave, and Katie said, ‘Phew! What a treat! I never thought I’d meet Christopher Plummer, not in a million years. He’s one of my favourite actors.’
‘He’s just the greatest, in my opinion.’ Melanie picked up the menus, and handed one to Katie. ‘I don’t know what you feel like, but I’m having the fried fish and chips with mushy peas. It’s awfully naughty, they’re so fattening, but I can never resist them when I’m here.’
‘I’ll have the same.’ Katie laughed. ‘I can’t resist them either, not that I come here very much.’
‘It’s a national dish, and I can understand why.’
After the waiter reappeared and took their order, he topped up their glasses, and hurried off.
Melanie said, ‘How long are you intending to stay in London, Katie?’
‘I’m not sure.’ She shrugged lightly. ‘That’s a silly answer, because I am sure, well, to a certain extent, anyway. My parents are going to Ireland in November, and then they’re coming to London for Thanksgiving. My brother Fin’s at Oxford University, I think I told you that. He’s the brainy one in the family. So, we’ll all be here together…well, Niall, my elder brother, is not coming, as far as I know. But I guess he could surprise us. In any event, I have classes to finish at RADA, which will take me through until early December, and I know my parents are going to want me to go back to Connecticut for Christmas. I’m not certain of what I’ll do in the new year, probably trot back to London. I do love it here.’
‘Who doesn’t,’ Melanie agreed. Clearing her throat, she took a sip of champagne, and continued, ‘I bought the play, Katie.’
Katie frowned. ‘What play?’
Melanie chuckled. ‘What play? you ask. The one I wanted you to see tonight. Charlotte and Her Sisters.’
‘You did!’ Katie was completely taken aback and unable to conceal her surprise.
Melanie nodded. ‘I made a deal for a firm option long before it opened, and a week ago I purchased the rights for the States from the British producer. I also bought the
movie rights.’
‘Congratulations! Isn’t Harry thrilled?’
‘Yes, he is. For me. I’m producing this one myself. I’m opening it on Broadway sometime next year. I suppose you could say it’s my contribution to the year of the Millennium.’
Katie gave her a warm smile. ‘I know how much you’ve wanted to find something really dramatic. Now you have.’
The waiter arrived with their dinner; while they ate, the two of them continued to chat about London, acquaintances they had in common, the theatre in general. Once their plates had been cleared away and they were sipping camomile tea, Melanie startled Katie when she said, ‘I want to have a serious talk with you about something.’
‘Yes, what is it?’ Katie asked, staring at the producer intently, wondering what she could possibly have on her mind.
‘I told you I’m bringing the Brontë play to Broadway. I want you to play the part of Emily. That’s what this is all about tonight, Katie. I’m offering you the second lead. That’s why I wanted you to see the play. I wasn’t just giving you a treat.’
Stunned, Katie sat gaping at her, rendered totally speechless.
‘Well, say something, Katie. Yes, no, maybe?’
Taking a deep breath, Katie said, ‘Melanie, how wonderful of you, what a fabulous offer.’
‘So you’re accepting it,’ Melanie exclaimed, beaming at her, obviously thrilled.
‘Not exactly,’ Katie began and paused, shaking her head, grimacing. ‘I think I’d like to do the play, but can I sleep on it, at least? I don’t want to say yes, and then change my mind.’
Melanie Dawson sighed heavily. ‘Like you did the last time? I’m not sure why you keep turning down the parts I offer you, but if you pass on Emily Brontë this will be the third time. Then I will really begin to wonder if you’re serious about your acting career.’
‘You know I am! Those other two parts weren’t right for me, Melanie, and you know they weren’t. And Harry agreed with me. I was too old for the girl in Plainspeaking, and I really didn’t like the role in the musical. Harry was of the same mind, and besides, you know very well I’m not a good singer.’
‘There was hardly any singing in that particular part, and you could have done a Rex Harrison and talked your way through the songs. But look, you’re avoiding the issue. Don’t you want a part in a Broadway show, Katie?’
‘Naturally, I do. It’s my dream, and it always has been. But I want it to be the right part. I’m an American, Melanie, and Emily Brontë was English, and I’m not so sure I can get it right. Also, there are other considerations.’
‘Such as what? Give me one.’
‘Well…’ Katie glanced away, biting her lip, looked around the restaurant, and when she brought her gaze back to the producer, she murmured quietly, and very truthfully, ‘I don’t think I want to live in New York, Mel.’
‘Oh, well then, that’s a different matter.’ Melanie eyed her carefully, thinking, for the umpteenth time, that there was something in her past that troubled Katie. She had asked her several times before if there was a problem, but Katie had always said there was not. Melanie prided herself on her psychological insight into people, as well as her shrewdness and acumen as a theatrical producer, and she was convinced there was a problem, a liability perhaps, of some sort. And Katie was apparently unwilling to share it. No actress in her right mind would turn down the role of Emily Brontë on Broadway, in a red-hot hit play from London. Not an actress of Katie’s talent and calibre. Not unless there was…an impediment. There is, and that’s why she doesn’t want to come home to New York, Melanie now decided.
Taking a deep breath, the producer said, ‘I’m signing Georgette Allison for the leading role of Charlotte, and Harrison Jordan for Branwell. Two big stars, as you well know, Katie. That wouldn’t do you any harm, to be in a play with them, now would it?’
Katie reached out, put a hand on Melanie’s arm. ‘I’m so appreciative, I truly am, Melanie. I do want to do it…but I want to be really sure that I can, that I’m up to it before I say yes.’
Melanie nodded, her face softening. She and her husband were very fond of this young woman, and they believed she could be a great actress, a star. If she wanted to be. Melanie said, ‘All right, darling. Let me know tomorrow.’
Chapter Fifteen
Xenia Leyburn paced up and down the floor of the study in her house in Farm Street, Mayfair, a cell phone pressed to her ear. She was in conversation with her business partner in New York, and at this moment she was listening intently. Finally, she responded, ‘I’m sure I can do it quickly. I’ll think about it, then I’ll send you an e-mail or fax tomorrow, Alan. But what about the invitations? They have to be done immediately, don’t they?’
She heard a noise, and while continuing to listen to Alan Pearson across the Atlantic, she walked over to the door of the study and looked out. At the sight of Katie Byrne she raised a hand in greeting, then brought her attention back to the phone call. ‘Well, there’s no problem then. None for me either, so let’s talk tomorrow, Alan. Bye.’
Going out into the hall, Xenia watched Katie fastening the chain, shooting the bolt and double-locking the front door. At once she began to laugh, and exclaimed, ‘You don’t have to do that, Katie. This place is safer than Fort Knox once the alarm’s on! And you should know that by now.’
‘Better to be safe than sorry,’ Katie said, turning around, smiling at her friend. ‘I always lock doors. It’s a habit.’
‘So I’ve noticed,’ Xenia murmured, then, changing the subject, she asked, ‘How was your evening?’
Throwing off her black cape and hanging it in the hall cupboard, Katie said, over her shoulder, ‘The play was wonderful, really great, and then afterwards I met Melanie at the Ivy for supper.’
‘Oh very nice indeed!’ Xenia remarked, and heading towards the kitchen, she went on, ‘How about a cup of tea before we go to bed?’
‘I wouldn’t say no.’ Katie followed Xenia down the corridor, and into the kitchen. Seating herself at a small table in the middle of the room, she added, ‘The cast was wonderful, and the play’s really outstanding, a superb drama. I never knew very much about the Brontës, although I’ve always loved their books.’
After filling the electric kettle with water and turning it on, Xenia joined Katie at the table. ‘In a way, their whole life was a drama,’ she said, ‘so I’m not surprised it translates well to the stage. Actually, they all had quite colourful lives, even though a great deal of their time was spent at Haworth.’
‘Do you know a lot about the Brontës?’
‘Course I do, Katie, it’s local fodder. You haven’t forgotten I lived in Yorkshire for a great deal of my childhood, have you?’
‘Yes, it had slipped my mind for a moment, since I think of you as International with a capital I.’
Xenia burst out laughing, and pushed her hand through her luxuriant brown hair. ‘Oh yes, Miss Cosmopolitan, sophisticated little me.’ She laughed again. ‘You know very well I’m a country girl at heart.’
Katie shook her head. ‘That’s not exactly how I see you! Nor do the rest of your friends, I’m sure. You were travelling the world with your father at the tender age of six, staying in all the best hotels in London, Paris and New York, and living the high life.’
‘Don’t forget Cannes, Nice, Vienna, and L.A.’ Xenia grinned, and then jumped up when the kettle began to whistle. Taking two mugs out of the cupboard, she added tea bags, turned off the kettle and poured hot water into the mugs. ‘I made green tea, is that all right?’
‘I prefer it, thanks.’
Xenia brought the mugs to the table, put one in front of Katie, and sat down. ‘You know, when I was seventeen and just out of school, on my own for the first time, I found the world a difficult place to function in for a while. And I suppose I can only blame that on my father and hotel living.’
Katie frowned at her over the rim of the mug. ‘What do you mean? I’m not really following you.’
Xenia leaned forward and explained: ‘The concierge of every hotel we stayed in was my father’s good right hand, and eventually also mine. Want a letter posted, a reservation made for a plane, a train, a car, a restaurant, a hairdresser, a hotel room in another city, or another country. Call the concierge, he’ll fix it. That was my father’s motto. He truly believed that if you knew the head concierge at the Dorchester in London and the head concierge at the George V in Paris, you didn’t have to worry about a thing. The world was your oyster. Those beloved concierges would simply ease the way for you, wherever you were going or whatever your needs were.’
Xenia paused for a sip of tea, then continued, ‘Do you know, I didn’t have a clue how to post a letter for years. You see, I’d always given my letters to the front desk in a hotel, to a concierge, to be precise.’
Katie grinned. ‘You sound so dismayed, but I think it’s a cute story. Anyway, you weren’t always with your father, if I remember correctly. You once told me that sometimes you were with your mother. Didn’t she ever take you to a post office? Or show you how to cope with the real stuff in life?’
Shaking her head, Xenia explained. ‘First of all, my mother’s family home is in a remote area of Yorkshire, which is where she was living in those days, and where I lived when I was with her. We were staying with her brother, my Uncle William. And secondly, she wasn’t very well when I was a little girl. I think it was her chronic ill health that actually came between my parents, because she couldn’t function properly. Maybe her illness was psychosomatic…I don’t know. Anyway, because she wasn’t well, I spent a lot of time with Timothy and his sister, Verity, when I was growing up. My mother had spent most of her own childhood with their father, so they were sort of like family to me. Tim, Verity, and I occupied a dream world at Burton Leyburn…it’s the most extraordinary house, unique really. Certainly my life there was something of a contrast to life with my fast-travelling, globe-trotting, high-rolling, movie-producer father.’