Christmas Eva (12 page)

“Good. I'm going home. I'll be back to put it on for the evening performance.”

He opened the door for her and stood in dismay as she negotiated her way past without even a goodbye. His stomach pitted and he slammed the door harder than necessary. He yanked his phone from his jacket and rang his brother. “Darrell, it's me.”

“Hey, Harry. How's it going? Shouldn't you be on stage?”

“In a bit. Needed to speak to you first.”

“Have you seen Eva? She was desperate to talk to you.”

“Yes, I have. What did you do to her?”

The cheerfulness left his brother's tone. “I'm sorry?”

“She's in a foul mood and barely speaking to me. What did you tell her?”

“Harry, I promise, she was fine when I saw her last. And she made me promise not to tell you anything. She wants to tell you herself.”

Harry groaned in anger and frustration. He hung up and hurled the phone across the room. Then he shook himself and dropped to his knees, praying hard. The only person who could resolve this wasn't him or Eva.

“Mr. Lyell, five minutes.”

“OK.” He reached for his phone, surprised it was still working, and sent Eva a text.
What have I done? Can I see you, talk about it?

No
came the almost immediate reply.
Sleeping 'til tonight's show. Phone off now.

Harry's heart sank. The last thing he wanted to do was go on stage and act the villain and make people laugh. But, the proverbial show must go on, and the professional that he was locked away his emotions until later.

But by seven, he was really het up. He'd spent the couple of hours between shows pacing his dressing room. At a knock on the door, he flung it open. “Eva…”

She wheeled herself into the room. “I've come to do your makeup.”

He shut the door. “Not until we talk about this. What have I done?”

“Sit.” She jerked her head at the chair as she pulled the makeup tubs towards her. “I'm here to work, not chit-chat.”

He automatically went to shove his hands into his pocket, for them to fall uselessly at his side. His costume didn't have pockets. “Not until you tell me what has upset you. I have been wracking my brains all afternoon and can't think of anything. Unless Darrell gave you bad news and you're blaming me for sending you to see him.”

“Fine.” Her voice shook, rage flickered in her eyes. “Am I just a publicity stunt? Another photo opportunity for you? A way to enhance your image?”

Flummoxed he pushed his hands through his hair, dislodging the hairnet. “Huh?”

“Be nice to the crippled girl and get a load more people through the doors of the theatre and enhance your career some more. Meanwhile your publicist has us followed so that the pictures end up in the papers and maybe another huge spread in a magazine. Just like your romantic getaway on a beach with Joanne Finch, last month.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You were shirtless. She was topless. You were frolicking on a beach, kissing her, reaching for her, touching her. Or do you kiss so many naked women you don't remember their names? The photos are all over this month's
Film Quarterly
if you need reminding.”

The penny dropped. “Eva, it's not what you think.”

“It never is, is it?” Her voice rose, shaking with anger.

“Eva, please.” He held out a placating hand.

“You know what? You can do your own makeup. I don't want to look at you right now, never mind touch you.”

She turned the chair around and headed across the room.

Harry dodged past her and slammed the door shut as she opened it. The light on the ceiling vibrated with the amount of force he used. He leaned against the door frame, blocking her exit, and folded his arms across his chest. “Don't you dare walk out on me.”

“I'm not,” she yelled back. “I'm rolling out on you! Now open that door or I'm going to scream and have every security guard in the place running in here.”

Stifling his cry of frustration, Harry flung open the door. “Fine, leave.”

Eva brushed past him, barely missing both his toes, and Felicity and April who stood in the hallway.

Great, just what he needed. And they'd heard every word, judging by the looks of concern.

“Is everything all right, Eva?” April asked.

Eva scowled. “Ask him.”

“I'm asking you.”

“Everything is just fine.” Her voice was tight, her fingers curled into fists, and she looked anything but fine.

Harry knew April wasn't falling for this. He shook his head and leaned across the door frame, blocking anyone access to his dressing room. “It's just a slight difference of opinion. Eva's had a long day, so I'll do my own makeup tonight.”

April looked from one to the other. “Eva?”

“It's personal,” Eva muttered.

April frowned. “Fi just told me you two were an item.”

“Not anymore,” Eva told her.

Shock hit Harry hard in the stomach. She was ending things? Like this?

And telling his employer rather than him? Did he really know Eva at all? Or was his gut instinct right and her tiredness just meant she wasn't thinking straight? He'd give her time to calm down, and then explain the truth to her.

Felicity looked as shocked as he felt. “Eva?”

Eva shook her head. “I'd like to go home now. I'm not needed if Mr. Lyell is doing his own makeup tonight.”

“Before you go,” April said, “is working together in the future going to be a problem? Because we still have several weeks of the run to go.”

“Not for me,” Harry said quickly.

Eva didn't answer, just shook her head.

April nodded. “Good. Fi, take her home. Eva, I'll expect you in at the usual time tomorrow.”

Harry watched Eva wheel herself down the corridor. He had to find out who leaked those pictures and tonight. Because there was only one film they could have come from and the director had promised him that footage was destroyed, so that no one could read into it what Eva had.

He dialed his agent and left a terse message on the answerphone, threatening legal action against the director, photographer and anyone else he found out was involved.

Harry valued his reputation and if it was tarnished, then so was his witness for God in an industry it was increasingly hard for a Christian to work in.

 

~*~

 

Eva found things progressively unbearable the next couple of days.

She went to work long enough to do Harry's makeup and then left. Seeing him, knowing how he'd used her, lied to her, made her believe in his Christian act, was more than her heart could bear. She did her job without speaking to Harry—if she could quit she would, but why should she let him win? She'd done nothing wrong, and she needed the job.

Harry rang several times a day, but she refused to take his calls. Flowers arrived with a card in his handwriting, but she refused to accept them. She later found them in a vase in the lounge, but passed no comment.

Every spare moment she had, she spent in her bedroom—doing the exercises she'd been given and pulling herself to her feet. She became expert at using the crutches, pouring all her anger and fear into every step as Darrell had suggested. The problem was she'd fallen in love with Harry. Loved him so very much, but he'd used her and that hurt more than her aching muscles did.

She didn't go to church on Sunday. Not even the prospect of a family meal out after the morning service could raise her spirits. She listened to the service on line and then pulled herself up again. She would try walking to the kitchen to shove the ready meal Mum had left for her into the microwave.

Eva gripped the dressing table and reached for the crutches. She lost her balance and fell hard, hitting her head on the edge of the dressing table on the way down. Stars flashed in front of her eyes and she cried out in pain. She lay there, not sure how she could get up. She hadn't tried it from the floor before. She turned onto her back. “Now what?”

The doorbell echoed in the quiet house. Eva pushed the crutches under the bed where they lived and held her breath. It sounded again, and then the letterbox moved.

“Eva?” Harry's voice. “Eva, I know you're there. Your mum said it was OK if I came over. I need to talk to you.”

She didn't answer. Just bit her lip, praying he'd go away. She didn't want to see him, not like this, not sprawled on the floor in a most undignified fashion and unable to get up.

Footsteps came from outside the open window and a hand tapped on it. She groaned, remembering too late the net curtains were in the laundry and whoever was out there could see straight in.

“Eva!” Harry knocked on the window. “Are you OK?”

She shook her head. She was dying inside, without him she'd never be OK, but he couldn't know that.

Harry managed to slide his hand in far enough to unlatch the window. He swung it open wide and climbed in. He was at her side in three long strides. “What happened?”

Glad she'd hidden the crutches, Eva looked at him. “I fell.”

“I can see that.”

“What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“Breaking in.” There was a faint smirk on his face.

“I can see that.”

Harry picked her up and set her in the wheelchair. “You cut your head.” He sat on the bed and pressed a tissue to the lump.

She winced, hissing in pain. She hadn't realized she'd cut it, but then she'd been thinking about other things.

Harry kept up the pressure, then pulled the tissue away. “Don't think there's any lasting damage. Eva, look at me.”

Slowly, she raised her gaze to meet his. “So why are you here?”

“I came to give you these. Front row seats for you and your parents to the Christmas Eve matinee tomorrow. My parents and Darrell are coming too, so I got a group booking.” He held out the tickets, but Eva didn't take them. He put them on the bed. “I'll leave them here.”

He stood and took three paces to the door.

Then he turned. “Eva, you don't want my explanation, but you're going to get it. I have a strict code when I film. No nudity. No sex. It's in my contract with my agent, and I won't touch anything that goes against that. Jo and I were filming in Jamaica over the summer. A beach scene hence the fact I have no shirt on. Her bikini top broke and fell off. I was reaching out to her with a shirt. That photograph you saw was doctored.”

Eva looked at him.

Harry pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. “These are the original screen shots. My lawyer is going to sue the magazine and any other publication that printed the edited versions. All the money will go to charity.” He paused, dropping the envelope next to the theatre tickets. “Eva, I only want one woman and that's you. But if you don't want me, or can't trust me, then I'll leave once the panto is over and won't look back. It's your choice.”

Tears ran down Eva's face as he walked out. She didn't move until the front door shut. She reached for the envelope and opened it. She sifted through the photos, finding the one of Harry with a tee shirt clearly visible in his hand.

She closed her eyes. She'd misjudged him. Even if she went to the Christmas Eve show tomorrow, how could she ever put this right?

 

 

 

 

11

 

Eva wheeled the chair into the kitchen Christmas Eve morning. Mum stood at the sink, peeling and chopping veggies. As always the Christmas Day prep started a good twenty-four hours early, but even the pile of veg seemed huger than normal.

Mum smiled at her. “Morning, Evie. Cereal is on the table for you.”

“Thanks. How much veg do we need for four people?”

“Oh, there's going to be eight of us. I spoke to Harry after the service last night. He said he'd dropped off the panto tickets. He and his parents and brother are spending the day with us tomorrow.”

Eva frowned. “You do know we're not going out anymore, right?”

“Yes, I do. But it's Christmas and a time for families. I'm not having them eat in a hotel. Especially after his parents have come all the way from Scotland to see him.”

“I guess it
was
my idea in the first place.” Eva tipped the cereal into the bowl.

“Exactly. And it's rude to retract an invitation once it's been made.”

“Have fun today, Mum.” Felicity breezed through the kitchen. “I have to run—big day at work. See you at one, Evie, don't be late.”

“How can I…”

“You still love him right?” Felicity looked at her from the door. “If you love him, you have to trust him. Simple as that.”

Eva shifted uncomfortably. Her face burned. “But I didn't, and I don't know how to fix that or if he'll accept an apology.”

Felicity paused. “He loves you—he's been like a bear with a sore head the past few days. You not speaking to him has about broken his heart, not that he'd tell you that. He's a proud man, but you…you're his undoing, and you can't see it.”

Eva looked at her. “What do I do to put this right?”

“Call him. Speak to him. Do something so he knows where he stands. I'll see you at one. And don't forget the tickets. He got you a seat, an actual seat, not a wheelchair space, so we'll park you, and then take the chair back to my office. The ball's in your court. Just don't drop it.” Felicity turned and ran out of the door.

Eva looked down at her hands. Could it be that simple? Just call and say sorry and can we start over? The phone dropped into her lap and she looked up to find her mother standing over her. “Mum?”

“Your Dad and I had a misunderstanding once. When we were engaged, he thought I was hugging another bloke. He blew his top, called off the engagement.”

“Really?” She looked at her parents. “You've never told me this before.”