the glass on to the sheet. He looked down at the wet patch and shook his head, smiling to himself. ‘Tears. Ah, yes, tears.’ He lay supine on the pillows and murmured, ‘“To weep is to make less the depth of grief.” Henry VI. The Bard always got to the heart of the matter, did he not, my sweet Kate.’ He closed his eyes wearily. The eyelids fluttered and then were still.
Katharine’s troubled face now met Norman’s, and he shrugged, helpless and resigned.
Penny said, ‘I think Terry’s falling asleep. Perhaps we should let him rest for a while.’
‘Oh no, I’m not, Penelope. The wise and wonderful Penn – ell – ohpee,’ Terry cried, opening one bloodshot blue eye and leering wickedly at them.
Katharine turned to Norman and said carefully, ‘I agree with Penny. Terry’ll feel better in about half an hour, then you can get him ready.’ Aware that Norman was about to protest, she signalled him to be silent with her expressive eyes, and rushed on, ‘Maybe you should run a bath in the meantime.’ Her cool blue glance rested on Terry and she remarked casually, ‘When you’re ready, Norman and I will take you to the theatre. Come on Norman, Penny.’ She swung around and walked across the room, her steps purposeful.
‘Thanks, Puss. I knew I could rely on your understanding,’ Terry muttered, raising himself on his right arm. Instantly he collapsed on the mound of pillows, looking more exhausted than ever.
Norman threw Katharine a questioning look once they were outside, and Penny began crossly, ‘What kind of idea is –’
‘Hush,’ Katharine whispered, and pulled Penny after her into the drawing room. Norman followed and closed the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it and said, ‘If you’ve come up with a plan, it’d better be a flaming good one, ducks.’
Katharine sat down on an easy chair, and smiled faintly. ‘It’s not a plan exactly, only a little common sense. Look, Norman, as long as we argue with Terry about going on tonight, he’ll continue to fight us until we’re blue in the face. So … I think we ought to go through the motions of getting him bathed and dressed. Didn’t you see how docile he became when I suggested that you get him ready?’
They nodded in unison, and Katharine proceeded, ‘It’s pretty apparent to me that Terry is wiped out physically, and he’s still a bit drunk, you know. That’s why I don’t think he’ll have any juice left in him by the time you’ve got him shaved, bathed and in his clothes. He’s going to be awfully drowsy after a bath, particularly if you make it a hot one. I have a feeling he’ll simply fall apart, and then we can get him to bed without any arguments, or a struggle.’
Norman smiled for the first time that day. ‘Katharine, you’re a little genius. Of course it’s the only solution. Hell, I wish we had some knockout drops as well.’
‘I have some sleeping pills on me …’ Penny began hesitantly, and stopped when she saw Norman’s glowering expression.
‘Why the bloody hell didn’t you say so before,’ Norman snapped, staring at his wife in irritation.
‘Well, actually, I haven’t had a chance, have I?’ she retorted reprovingly, with a small glare. ‘There’s no need to be so snippy, Norman. Anyway, when you rang me up to tell me about Terry, I threw a lot of things in a shopping bag. A first-aid kit, bandages, aspirin and sleeping pills. I was reluctant to suggest giving him one of those though, because he’s been drinking.’
‘Christ, I didn’t think of that,’ Norman answered, looking shamefaced. ‘But one wouldn’t hurt, would it?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Penny went to her shopping bag and pulled out the bottle. She popped it in the pocket of her cardigan and said, ‘We’ll never get him to take it voluntarily, Norman. I’ll have to crush it and put it in a glass of hot milk. He won’t taste it, if I add a bit of sugar.’
‘Good idea, love.’ He gave Penny a fond look, and added, ‘And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.’ He jumped up. ‘I think I’d better go and run a bath for him. Back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’
The moment Norman left the room, Katharine turned to Penny and said, ‘This is pretty awful, isn’t it? What’s it all about, Penny darling?’
Penny bit her lip. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ she murmured.
Katharine gave her a hard stare. ‘Did Norman tell you anything?’
‘No,’ Penny responded, returning the stare with one equally as hard.
‘How did Norman find out about the stabbing?’
‘Terry had asked him to pick up a suit from his tailor’s and deliver it here. Norman brought it over this afternoon. He found Terry lying on the bed in a pool of blood, drunk as a skunk. He ’phoned me and told me to get over here as fast as I could, and then I believe he tried to question Terry. But he didn’t find out anything. Terry was much worse earlier, unintelligible, from what Norman told me. That’s about it …’
‘It’s a good thing Norman had reason to come over here today,’ Katharine said with a small shiver, imagining the consequences if Norman had not arrived on the scene at the right time. She looked down at her hands, and when she lifted her head her eyes held a quizzical look. ‘I asked Norman if he thought Alexa Garrett had done it, and he said no. But he didn’t really convince me. I think Norman suspects her, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Penny responded uncertainly. ‘But I suspect her. I think she’s a bit of a Tartar, that one. I wouldn’t put anything past her. Terry’s had nothing but bad luck since she’s been around. Jinxed him, that she has. I never liked her, stuck-up little piece of nothing. She’s led Terry into bad ways, Katharine. Very bad ways indeed, I don’t mind telling you. But then, Terry never did have much taste in women. Always going for the dolly birds. Except for Hilary Rayne. He should have married Hilary, instead of that last wife of his – Megan. I never liked her either, another stuck-up article, if ever I saw one. Exactly like Alexa. Two peas in a pod, if you ask me, and rotten bloody peas at that.’
Katharine was taken aback at this second reference to Hilary in one day, and intrigued and inquisitive, remembering Estelle’s comments about the party. She said, ‘Yes, I agree with you, about Hilary. She’s a lovely person. But she’s married to Mark Pierce now, so she’s hardly available for Terry.’
Penny was startled. ‘Oh, I didn’t know you knew Hilary. Known her long, have you?’
‘Not very long, but she’s –’ Katharine cut off her sentence as Norman rushed in. He seemed elated and he grinned at them both and made Winston Churchill’s V for Victory sign with two fingers. ‘I think it’s going to work. I had to wake Terry to get him into the bathroom. Right now he’s sitting in a tub of hot water, looking as weak as a kitten and sounding very groggy. He didn’t even want me to shave him. Why don’t you go and boil the milk, Penny love, and then I’ll try to get him to drink it. After that, it’ll be never-never-land time.’
Penny hurried out, and Norman peered at his watch. ‘It’s just turning five-thirty, Katharine. Do you want to get off to the theatre?’
‘No, I’ll wait for you, Norman. Just to be sure everything is all right. We can go together,’ she said.
Norman stood in the wings of the St James’s Theatre, watching the last scene of the last act of Trojan Interlude. And silently he applauded Katharine. She was superb. She had carried the entire play with ease and brilliance and immense flair, radiating her own extraordinary magic, a magic quite unique to her. Peter Mallory, Terry’s understudy, was good, but he lacked Terry’s fire and declamatory ability, and although his performance was sound it was without inspiration.
If the audience felt a little cheated because of his lack-lustre performance, they had been more than compensated by Katharine’s stunning protrayal of Helen of Troy. She had given them everything she had, with every fibre of her being, and Norman decided it was probably her most outstanding