“Of course not. I think Dearbhla and I would notice if you suddenly weren’t there.”
“Yeah.” I calm down. “Yeah. OK. But if he says anything like I’ve gone home, or quit the course, or gone to travel the world, call the cops, all right?”
“I will.”
Emily trips off to join Sir Joseph’s sisters, cousins and aunts while I take the stage to spurn James Winthrop’s amorous advances.
Indeed, it is not only on stage that this seems to be happening. At the end of the rehearsal he asks me if I want to come for a drink in the Biko Bar.
“Sorry,” I grimace. “Brassic lint.”
“Oh, I’ll get you one in,” he offers eagerly and a little spark in those big brown eyes melts me.
“Oh, right…thanks. You coming, Emily?” James wilts visibly when she utters a cheery affirmative.
“I think you’re fantastic as Josephine, you know,” he enthuses once the pints are lined up. “I really enjoy playing opposite you.”
“Oh yeah?” I grin. “Refrain, audacious tar, your suit from pressing. Remember what you are and whom addressing.” This is the opening line of one of our duets.
He grins back and caps me. “Proud lady, have your way, unfeeling beauty. You speak and I obey, it is my duty.” Emily senses the flirtatious vibe and shrinks back a little, watching with interest as we talk the usual shy nonsense to each other. I do like the guy. Would he understand about the Sinclair setup though? Somehow I doubt it, so I’ll have to give him the old heave-ho.
“I ought to go,” I say, checking my watch. Nearly eleven. “I’ll see you at the principals’ rehearsal tomorrow afternoon,” I promise.
“Oh, yes, of course.” He raises his almost-finished glass to me as I hurry off, hotly pursued by Emily.
“Are you going to be all right?” she clucks. “I don’t want to think of you being murdered in your bed.”
“Neither do I,” I say with feeling.
“And just by whom do you expect to be murdered?” A third voice joins us, its originator falling into step behind us as we pass through the glass double doors of the Union. Sinclair.
“Oh! You! Are you…looking for me?”
“Your message on the answer phone had a somewhat hysterical quality to it. I thought I’d come and see that you weren’t ill, or in trouble. And it is getting rather late, Beth. I didn’t want you walking back alone at this time of night.”
“Oh.” Quite thoughtful! For a murderer. He just doesn’t want anyone else stealing his psycho thunder, perhaps. We drop Emily off at Cliveden House and walk on.
“I think I should make it clear that, although I have a number of plans for you, none of them include killing you,” says Sinclair, deadpan. “Well, not literally, at any rate.”
Fortunately the dark conceals my immense flush.
“I just…what Dr Blakey said…you know. It made me think.”
“She called me an axe-wielding maniac?”
“No! But..she said…you know. Sadists. Into pain and torture and stuff. You have to admit, from my angle it’s quite scary.”
He sighs. “My naïve young friend, you make the classic error of conflating sadism and cruelty. It would be cruel to inflict pain on somebody that didn’t enjoy it…but I have no desire to do anything of the kind.”
“Well, but what about you spanking me then? Don’t you think that’s cruel?”
“You’re saying you don’t enjoy it?”
O.M.G. He has sussed me right out. How embarrassing.
“Oh….it’s a bit…you know…humiliating.”
“But you enjoy it? Just a little?”