Francesca’s arm, wanting to both reassure and comfort her. ‘I’ll concede that, up to a point. Still, he’s no fool, and I value his opinion. He also told me that you’d sold several magazine articles, so that must prove something to you.’ When Francesca did not answer, she added spiritedly, ‘Well, it does to me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a professional writer.’
‘Not really, Katharine,’ Francesca murmured in a negative voice. ‘Magazine articles don’t mean that much, and anyway a book is an entirely different kettle of fish, especially an historical biography of this nature. I know it’s going to take me years, and I’m not sure it’s worth all the time and effort I’ll have to put into it.’ Her frustration rose to the surface, and she finished, ‘I’m awfully down in the mouth about it today, and perhaps I shouldn’t be boring you with it, after all. It’s not very fair, dumping my depression on you.’
‘Don’t be silly, I want to help,’ Katharine said. ‘I think we should discuss it a bit more, and then perhaps we’ll get to the root of the problem. Come on, Francesca, try and tell me.’
Francesca forced a smile onto her face, and she laughed thinly. ‘That’s just it, I don’t know what I feel. Ambivalent, I suppose, about the book’s chance of getting published and of it being a success if it ever does. And uncertain of myself, my capabilities as a writer …’ She faltered, seemed on the verge of tears.
Katharine identified with Francesca’s problems and empathized. There was a brief silence, and then she hazarded slowly, ‘I think I know what’s wrong with you.’ She waited a moment before continuing, and her tone was gentle as she added, ‘You’re suddenly afraid. You’ve lost your nerve. But you mustn’t lose it, Francesca. I know you can write the book. I also feel sure it will be a great success. A smash hit. I’m not sure how I know, but I do. Truly.’ Katharine cleared her throat, and volunteered, ‘Don’t think I don’t understand what you’re going through, because I’ve been exactly where you are at different times. Unsure of myself in a role, worried I might fail, even crippled by stage fright. I suppose it’s a kind of self-doubt, but if you keep going it passes, truly it does.’
Katharine saw that the other girl was plunged into despair. Francesca’s golden-amber eyes had darkened, she bit her lip nervously, and fiddled with the stem of the glass, her face slightly averted. After a few seconds Katharine decided to take another approach. ‘You know, Francesca, I think it’s important for us all to try and master something we’re afraid of, for that great sense of accomplishment we feel when we’ve actually done it. Of course, it takes a lot of strength and determination. And courage. But it’s worth it in the end. You mustn’t give up now, Francesca darling.’ Being single-minded of purpose, dedicated, disciplined and ambitious, Katharine was always a little puzzled when she sensed these essential drives were missing in others. Now she wanted to fire Francesca on, to imbue in her that same intense desire to succeed which had so motivated her own career as an actress. To Katharine, personal gratification, as well as fame and money, was the spur that goaded her on.
She scrutinized Francesca and exclaimed with enormous conviction, ‘You must pursue your dreams, because without our dreams we have nothing. And then life isn’t worth living.’
Francesca, who had been listening closely, shook her head dismally. ‘I know what you’re trying to say, Katharine, but perhaps I just don’t believe in myself enough.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘And it’s a bit arrogant, isn’t it, thinking I can tackle an historical biography of this magnitude, and get it published to boot?’
‘No, it isn’t!’ Katharine declared. ‘You have talent and you’re very intelligent, and hard working and –’ She left her sentence dangling in mid-air and broke into laughter. ‘I suppose a lot of people thought I was arrogant, believing I could get the part of Helen in Trojan Interlude. But whatever they thought, and even said to me, I ignored them. And I did get it.’ Her manner became more persuasive than ever. ‘Listen to me, Francesca! If you abandon this project now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. You’ll never have the nerve or the self-confidence to attempt another book. And you’ll be wasting your talent, just throwing it down the drain, and that would be a terrible crime. You’ll end up feeling bitter about the “might-have-beens” and all you’ve missed. And think of the research you’ve already done. All those months will have been wasted too.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right,’ Francesca agreed. She was surprised at the extent of Katharine’s concern, her supportiveness and her genuine desire to be helpful. She was also grateful, and she admitted finally, ‘And I believe you hit the nail on the head. I think I have lost my nerve. And the immensity of the work I still have to do frightens me. I keep thinking I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.’
‘And you mustn’t be negative.’ Katharine’s smile was consoling. ‘You know, you’re probably just a bit tired and out-faced by it all. I think you ought to step away from the book, and take a few days off. Spend your time doing something totally removed from the biography. You’ll feel refreshed and raring to go again after a rest.’ Another thought occurred to Katharine. She said quickly, ‘Look, is there anything I can do to help you? Maybe some research. I’d be glad to, honestly I would, if it would make things easier.’
Francesca straightened up on the bar stool and stared at Katharine. She was temporarily at a loss. Unexpectedly, her father’s concern, which he had voiced earlier that morning, popped into her mind. But he had no reason to worry. She was convinced of that now. Katharine was everything she appeared to be, and so much more besides. She was sweet and loving and so unselfish. All the troubling thoughts Francesca herself had had were immediately dispelled, and she was tremendously relieved she had not asked Katharine those leading questions about her life in Chicago, as she had planned to do. Questions she had even rehearsed on the bus on the way from the British Museum. How rude and suspicious and unkind I would have seemed, Francesca thought to herself. Out loud she said, ‘That’s so sweet of you, Katharine. But I’m afraid I’m the only one who can do the research, because I’m the only one who knows what I’m looking for.’ The laughter flickering on her mouth was real as she said, as an afterthought, ‘At least I think I know. Thank you, anyway, for offering. It was a super gesture.’
‘Just give me a yell, if you do need some help,’ Katharine responded with a jaunty grin. ‘Promise me you won’t abandon the book, and that if you do get down in the dumps again you’ll talk to me about it. Promise!’
‘I promise.’
‘I’ll hold you to that. Now perhaps we’d better go in for lunch.’
After they were comfortably seated, Katharine gave the menu a cursory glance, and asked, ‘What would you like?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Francesca answered, her eyes scanning the list of delicious dishes. She was horrified at the prices, and decided to take her cue from Katharine. ‘What are you having?’
‘I’ll most probably have the grilled Dover sole and a green salad.’
Francesca nodded. ‘I think I’ll have that too. It sounds good.’
‘Would you like some wine?’
‘Gosh no! It makes me sleepy during the day.’
Katharine laughed her spiralling girlish laugh. ‘Me too. I’d better refrain as well, otherwise my performance might be off tonight.’ The waiter came to their table and Katharine ordered, and then she turned to Francesca and said, ‘Will you excuse me for a minute, I’ve got to go to the powder room.’
‘Of course.’
Katharine pushed back her chair, stood up and floated through the restaurant, her eyes focused on the arched doorway ahead, quite oblivious of the admiring glances and heads that turned as she weaved through the maze of tables. When she reached the powder room she took a lipstick out of her bag and redid her mouth. She had only been there a few seconds, standing in front of the mirror, when the door burst open and Estelle flew in, looking as if she could hardly contain herself.
Katharine swung