‘What’s that?’ Leo tried to peek over my shoulder but I returned the card swiftly to the envelope.
‘Nothing, just a compliment slip.’
‘You’re blushing. You never blush. What is it?’
‘Nothing, I’m just flushed with success. That’s all.’
He laughed and put his big hand on my knee.
‘Want to celebrate somewhere more private later?’ he whispered.
‘Leo!’
I was astonished. I had no idea the big lummox of a boy was remotely interested. He was handsome in a fresh-faced farmboy kind of way and a lot of the girls – and some of the boys – were after him, but we had started to assume that he was in the closet.
‘Sorry. Sorry. That was inappropriate,’ he said, withdrawing his hand as if I’d stung him. ‘Too much champagne. Forget it.’
‘Hey, it’s OK,’ I soothed. ‘No harm done. I just didn’t know you cared, that’s all. Thanks. I’m, uh, flattered.’
‘God,’ he groaned. ‘Flattered. That’s the ego-killer, right there.’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, don’t sulk. Just dust yourself off like a big boy.’
‘You don’t have to patronise me, Callie. I am a grown man.’
‘Some might say overgrown.’
He looked at me with eyes like a hurt cow, then turned back to his champagne glass. Somewhere in the bubbles, the word ‘bitch’ might have been uttered.
I didn’t have time for rejected drama queens, though. I had my meeting with Peregrine Sands to plan. There was no question of my not going. I had to see him and find out what he had to say. And do.
‘To be honest,’ I said, rising to my feet and addressing the table, ‘I’m bushed. I think I’m going to leave early, and let the victory feeling sink in, before I end up too drunk to remember.’
There were protests, and entreaties to stay, but I brushed them off and left the room, intent on slipping into the backstage area.
It was easy enough. I found the ladies’ toilets and lurked in there, perfecting my maquillage while I ran through fifty mental scenarios of what might happen next.
Was I going to get spanked? Was I? Really? And by Peregrine Sands?
According to Emma, he was a master of the art. She had had the privilege of baring her bottom to his learned palm, and the lesson imparted had been unforgettable. Or so she said – she was prone to exaggeration, like most of us.
I contemplated being late. If I wasn’t already due an appointment under his hand, I certainly would be then. On the other … hand, I didn’t want to overegg the pudding. I had a feeling Peregrine Sands didn’t wait for anyone.
The props store was located in the lowest basement room of the theatre, and it took me a little while to find the right combination of staircases and doors, so it was just as well I hadn’t lingered too long over my lipstick.
When I pushed at the door, I tried to make as little noise as possible. I wanted to get my bearings before I got his attention.
The room, which was large and low-ceilinged, was in darkness. I could make out the shapes of huge backdrops used in past productions. Forests, by the look of them, and the turrets of a castle. Looming less, but still just about visible, were all kinds of strange-shaped objects and furnishings, plus a pony trap, minus the pony.
A little unnerved, I thought he must have changed his mind, and I considered turning back.
‘Hello,’ I said.
With an accompanying click, light flooded the room, causing me to blink and look wildly around. I still couldn’t see anyone.
‘Mr Sands? Sir?’
That was a flash of inspiration, it seemed, for he stepped out from inside a large wardrobe, instantly made flesh.