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Authors: Marian Babson

BOOK: The Cat Who Wasn't a Dog
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Having poured the contents of our miniatures down Dame Cecile's gullet before we could persuade her to move, we took the precaution of stopping at the all-night off-licence for fresh supplies on the way back to Matilda's.
At which point, Dame Cecile had an attack of hauteur, shook away our supporting arms and insisted that she was quite capable of climbing the stairs by herself. Not only that, she wanted to be alone.
We stood uneasily at the foot of the stairs and watched her weave her way up, prepared to do our best to catch her if she fell. It was just as well that she didn't; it had been a long day and our best wouldn't have been very good.
‘Was that Soroya?' Matilda appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘No, it was Cecile,' Evangeline answered.
‘Where's Soroya?
‘Who knows?' I shrugged.
‘Who cares?' Evangeline went one better – and truer.
‘I don't care. Not about her.' Matilda descended the stairs slowly. ‘But I don't like to go to bed while she's still out. I know – only too well! – that she has her own key, but she never bothers to lock the door behind her. I want to know that the house is secure for the night when I go to bed.'
‘Quite right,' Evangeline approved, stifling a yawn.
‘What time is it? I'm afraid I dozed off.'
‘Ummm …' We exchanged glances, tossing a mental coin. I lost. ‘It, um, seems to be about one thirty.'
‘One thirty? And Cecile is just getting in!' She stopped, seemed to listen to herself, then gave a self-deprecating little laugh. ‘Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like an outraged parent, but Cecile must realize we're opening tomorrow – tonight. What is she doing running around until this hour?'
We didn't even exchange glances on that one. Neither of us was going to do any explaining.
‘Both of them – ' Matilda continued her plaint – ‘Cecile and Soroya – in and out. Out until all hours. And not together. Oh, no, that would be too simple. I'm forever waiting up for one or the other. Believe me, houseguests are hell!
‘Oh, er, present company excepted, of course. I didn't mean you …' She let the valiant lie trail off. It was one thirty in the morning and we had just come in, too.
At least we'd brought Cecile with us. We ought to get Brownie points for that.
‘Lock up and go back to bed.' Evangeline did not bother to stifle her yawn this time. ‘Soroya won't be back now. The last we saw of her, she was in Trafalgar Square, prepared to go off and make someone else's life miserable. With any luck, they've killed her.'
I wish Evangeline wouldn't joke about things like that. It was too close to home.
 
‘Matilda may complain about her houseguests – ' it was still rankling with Evangeline – ‘but she doesn't have such great luck with her housekeepers, either.'
‘You can say that again!' We were in my room, having voted ourselves a nightcap, since we were exhausted and chilled to the bone from our long vigil. ‘What
did
happen to the last housekeeper – the one before that poor Australian woman in the cellar? Do you know if she left of her own free will? I mean – '
‘Or was she pushed, you mean.' Evangeline poured another drink. ‘I understand she left in the time-honoured
way. Flouncing out in a towering fury for reasons best known to herself.'
‘Leaving Matilda in the lurch.' We'd all been there – especially Evangeline. Brooding into my glass, I found that the brandy had started up several disquieting thoughts and was chasing them around my head. Or had they been there all along?
‘Evangeline, do you think maybe Eddie could be right and those stairs were deliberately booby-trapped? Suppose the trap had been set for the last housekeeper and not the poor soul who got caught in it?'
‘I was wondering how long it would take you to get around to that.' Her tone was maddeningly superior.
‘Oh? And you were there ahead of me?'
‘Way ahead. Who'd bother to kill a housekeeper? And why? It's far more likely that any trap was set for Matilda herself.'
‘On the cellar stairs? She barely knew where they were.'
‘It wouldn't have been hard to find an excuse to send her to them.'
‘Who'd want to kill Matilda? Now, if someone wanted to kill Soroya, I could understand it. Yes,' I found myself warming to the idea, ‘anyone might have wanted to kill Soroya.'
‘Including Matilda.' Evangeline stopped me cold with that one.
‘No! I can't believe Matilda as a murderess!'
‘It would solve a lot of her problems if she got rid of Soroya … permanently.'
‘Look at it the other way: it would solve Soroya's problem if she got rid of Matilda.'
‘Soroya doesn't have a problem, she knows when she's well off. She may carp, but it suits her to have Matilda in residence, taking care of the property – and paying the taxes.'
‘It's Matilda's house.' I wasn't going to carry on with that argument, a better suspect had occurred to me. ‘Anyway,
how about Teddy? I'll bet he'd love to get rid of Soroya. If only to have a peaceful life and not have to keep snatching back his own cat.'
‘I'm not so sure about that.' A distant look came into Evangeline's eyes. ‘Then, again, we mustn't overlook Cecile. She's very temperamental and has been through an emotional time lately. When passions run high, there's no telling what might happen.'
‘Cecile?' I gasped with horror, unable to believe that Evangeline was so cold-bloodedly considering one of her oldest and dearest friends as a possible murderess. ‘That's ridiculous! There's nothing in the world that could turn Dame Cecile into a killer.'
‘Isn't there?' Evangeline raised an eyebrow at me. ‘What if Matilda – even by accident – had done something to harm Fleur? Perhaps even hasten her demise? Do you think Cecile would let her get away with that? Oh, no, she'd want revenge, blood for blood – '
‘You've had enough!' It wasn't easy, but I wrested the glass from her hand and hauled her to her feet. The remaining liquid sloshed on to the carpet. ‘Go and sleep it off!'
‘Just think it over.' Evangeline headed for the door with exaggerated dignity.
Just then a floorboard creaked outside the door. Someone was out in the hallway. Had they been listening at the door? Whoever they were, they would have heard no good of themselves. Serve them right.
‘Through the bathroom …' Just the same, I didn't want Evangeline to run into them. ‘And don't make any noise.'
 
No one missed Soroya in the morning. She still wasn't around, but no one missed her. They were too caught up in their own worries.
‘I can't remember a word!' Dame Cecile kept repeating what seemed to be her mantra. ‘Not one word!'
‘You'll be all right once the curtain goes up.' Matilda attempted to comfort her. ‘And Frella will be in the prompt corner. She'll see you through.'
‘Frella hates me!' Dame Cecile declared. ‘She hates you, too, because you're harbouring Soroya. She'd be delighted to see us both fall flat on our faces – if only it wouldn't reflect badly on her direction.'
‘You don't mean that,' Matilda said, not very convincingly. ‘Frella is hard-working and ambitious. She wouldn't want anything to happen to jeopardize the show – it's her big chance.'
‘That's what I just said! But she'd have a better chance if she got rid of Teddy.' Dame Cecile was severe in judgement. ‘He's undermining the whole production.'
‘She'd rather get rid of all of us first,' Matilda sighed.
‘She's besotted with that man.'
‘I suppose he is charming – in his way,' Cecile conceded. ‘I just wish he were more competent.'
‘He's not really incompetent,' Matilda said, ‘just a lazy actor. Frella lets him get away with too much.'
‘She seemed to be tightening the reins yesterday,' I commented.
‘Too little, too late.' Matilda shook her head sadly. ‘She'll never get him into shape for tonight.'
‘
Well!
' Dame Cecile exclaimed triumphantly.
We all turned to her expectantly. She beamed at us.
‘Well what?' Evangeline prodded.
‘
Well!
That's my first word. I've got it!
Well!
'
‘Congratulations.' Evangeline turned away, losing interest. ‘Now all you need are the other few-thousand-odd.'
‘It's a start,' Matilda defended, staunchly looking on the bright side.
A sudden burst of hammering shattered the momentary peace and shook the inner wall.
‘How can I be expected to remember my lines with all that racket?' Dame Cecile shrieked. ‘Make him stop!'
‘He's so enthusiastic,' Matilda murmured. ‘I don't like to discourage him.'
Having repaired the cellar stairs to the admiration of all, Eddie now had the bit in his teeth and was swooping through the house looking for other jobs to do.
‘He's going to fix that wobbly shelf in the closet in my room,' I said. ‘It desperately needs doing. The clothing rail is suspended from it and every time I hang something up, I'm afraid it will come down on my head.'
‘He's promised to build a set of bookshelves in my bedroom,' Matilda said. ‘I think that's what he's working on now. I really need them. I was so pleased when he offered to do it.'
‘So-o-o …' Dame Cecile's eyes narrowed and she looked to Evangeline for reinforcements. ‘I'm surprised your poor head hasn't started to ache with all this noise. You were always so sensitive to such things.'
‘We'll be leaving for the theatre soon.' It was a good try, but Evangeline wasn't going to lead the cavalry to the rescue. Too bad Teddy wasn't here to oblige.
‘Besides,' Evangeline added, ‘there are a couple of loose floorboards in my room that are driving me mad. They not only creak like a door in a Hammer film, but I'm afraid my foot will go through them if I don't tread carefully.'
‘These old houses,' Matilda sighed. ‘They're lovely to look at, but there's always something that needs repairing every time you turn around.'
As though on cue, there came more enthusiastic hammering. Not only that, but Eddie began to whistle loudly. At least he was happy.
‘I'm leaving now!' Outnumbered, Dame Cecile abandoned the battle and prepared to flee the field. ‘Perhaps I can find some peace and quiet in my dressing room!' She stalked away and the slam of the front door was louder than the hammer blows.
 
‘Bad dress rehearsal, good opening.' The cast were consoling themselves with the old theatrical cliché.
For myself, I wouldn't like to bet on it. However much
Frella had worked on him, Teddy was still flattening everything. And, with a foolproof, actorproof script like
Arsenic and Old Lace
, that was saying something.
Perhaps Frella had leaned on him too much. ‘Cowed' was now the word when it came to Teddy. Which was not what the hero of San Juan Hill and subsequent President of the United States had ever been.
This Teddy would not have led an army charging up San Juan Hill, he would have crept up quietly by himself (who would have followed him?), occasionally calling out tentatively, ‘I say, you chaps, can't we talk this over?'
‘Desperate times,' Evangeline said grimly, ‘call for desperate measures.'
‘You mean, like cancelling the show?' It was the only measure I could think of that would save Dame Cecile and Matilda from being damned by association with a major flop.
‘Never!' Evangeline turned away abruptly. ‘I must confer with Cecile!
‘Good luck!' I'd had enough. ‘I'm going out for a breath of air.'
Outside it was cold and dank and starting to rain. I changed my mind, but not to the extent of joining Evangeline in her conference with Cecile. I decided to find a quiet corner backstage and lose myself there until the opening.
It was unnerving to walk along the narrow corridor and hear the sounds emanating from the cast dressing rooms on both sides. The sobs were the worst. A disjointed phrase or sentence was nearly as bad. ‘ … pay the mortgage' … ‘school fees' … ‘decent holiday, for once' … ‘overdraft' …
The usual epidemic of First Night Nerves was rampaging backstage, fuelled by Teddy's ineptness. Or should it be Frella who was blamed? Nepotism was all very well – and sometimes it even worked. But this was one of the times when it didn't.

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