A Lonely Sky (10 page)

“First room on the right, second floor, as you requested,” Barnabas said, addressing Julia. “I expect you are famished. I have placed an evening tray in your room.”

“Feel free to roam the house at your leisure,” Polly added. “We have no skeletons waiting to jump out from our closets, do we Barnabas?” Polly winked at the caretaker as he placed her medication tray next to her teacup.

“Not many.”

Julia rose to leave. “Thank you again for letting me stay here, Mrs. McTeel. There’s one more thing. I need to phone home and let my friend-, I mean, my dad, know I made it to your house.”

Polly reached for her pills. “Yes, now, that’s something I do recall speaking with Sam about last night. See? I’m not as daft as I seem. Barnabas can show you to the telephone and how to ring up. We’ll get to know each other better tomorrow. Good night.”

“Good night, Mrs. McTeel.”

“Miss Steele?”

Julia dreamt Eliza Doolittle called to her.

“Miss Steele?” A loud rapping accompanied her name. Eliza seemed impatient.

“Coming.” Julia fought to wake from a deep sleep.

“Miss Steele?” The knocking stopped, but the soft creak of a door forced Julia to pry open an eye and make sense of her surroundings. A young woman with a mass of short, dark curls and big, brown eyes stood in the doorway. She donned a maid’s uniform. “Sorry to wake you, Miss, but Mr. Lyons is downstairs waitin’ for you.” She spoke in a Cockney accent, and Julia realized she found her Eliza.

Julia bolted upright. Events of the past two days came rushing back. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and glanced around the richly decorated room. A small clock resided on a skirted, bedside table.

“Eight a.m.” she said. “It feels like five.”

Eliza didn’t answer, but went about the room opening the heavy, rose-colored, damask curtains.

“Did you say Sam’s here?” Julia hoped he wouldn’t come upstairs and find her looking such a mess.

“Don’t worry, Miss. He said to take your time. He’d visit with Mrs. McTeel. You’re to dress for a day on the town.”

Julia stifled a giggle.
Dress for day on the town
. As if she had so many choices in her suitcase. Her wardrobe consisted of jeans, sweaters, a few blouses, a jacket and her choir gown.

“May I shower?”

“In there, Miss.” The woman pointed to a door on her right. “You’ll find all you’ll be needin’. And I’ll be back with your meal. Normally you’d be eatin’ with the lady of the house, but she’s already up and about.”

“Thank you, El-” Julia caught herself. “What’s your name?”

“Sylvie, Miss.” She backed out of the door. “I’ll check in again in a bit.”

“Okay, thanks.”

As Sylvie closed the door, Julia pulled a pillow to her face and stifled a scream of happiness. She was in London, in a fantastic house with her own maid! Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine this happening. Julia silently praised Kim for such a great idea, and then praised herself for finally “living on the edge”.

After she showered and ate the light breakfast Sylvie brought, Julia studied herself in the dressing room mirror. Not exactly sure how to dress for “a day on the town”, she chose her favorite designer jeans and a pink polo shirt. She tied a matching pink pullover sweater around her shoulders. She let her hair hang straight, hoping not to delay Sam any longer by fussing with barrettes or a ponytail.

As Julia slipped into her sneakers, she wondered what to do next. Sylvie hadn’t returned and Sam waited. She supposed she could go downstairs on her own. As she tentatively descended the grand staircase, she giggled to herself, wondering if it was proper “manor etiquette” to see one’s self about.

Sam stood in the hallway, leaning idly against the banister. His casual dress of blue jeans and white Izod shirt eased her mind about her own outfit.

His welcoming smile reassured her further. “Hello, Julia. Did you have a good rest and did you remember to phone your friend back in the states?”

“Yes, thanks.” She paused on the last step. “Barnabas was kind enough to allow me to use the phone. How about you?  Did you hear about the mini-series audition?”

Sam’s face fell, but his voice was gentle. “No, not yet. I expect it any day. I suppose no news is good news. Shall we go?”

“Shouldn’t I say hello to Mrs. McTeel?”

Sam nodded towards the parlor. “She’s in with her physician at the moment. We’ll be back later and you can see her then.” Sam walked to the front door and opened it. “Your tour awaits, Miss Julia.”

Julia had the time of her life. London was a blaze of activity, every store and corner decked out for the upcoming July wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. Excitement buzzed in the air, the Londoners as giddy as the tourists. London seemed to put on it’s best for Julia, the weather holding beautifully with flowers blooming all around. As they walked side by side, Julia listened in captivated awe as Sam narrated London’s history while pointing out historical and famous sites such as the River Thames, the Tower Bridge, London Bridge, London City Hall, Big Ben, the House of Parliament, the London Tube and Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum.

“I’m exhausted,” Julia said several hours later as they stopped to gaze in a souvenir shop. The smiling faces of Prince Charles and Lady Diana peered at Julia from seemingly everywhere. “But happy.”

“Later in the week, we’ll actually tour inside these places,” Sam laughed. “But this afternoon I want to take you to the West End and theater district. I think you’ll enjoy that, and perhaps, be inspired. Afterwards, we’ll grab a bite to eat and then I have a party to attend.” He looked apologetically at her. “Before I left for Germany I promised some friends that I’d make a showing. Do you mind going there?”

Julia shook her head. “You’ve been so nice to me. Of course I’ll go with you…” Her conversation with Mrs. McTeel replayed in her mind. “…unless it’s something you’d rather do on your own…or with someone else.”
Like Deirdre
.

“No.” Sam looked directly into her eyes and the intensity of his gaze caused a chill of excitement to tingle her senses. “I’d like you to go.”

She smiled, relieved. “Okay.”

“To the West End then?” Sam offered her his hand. “We should hurry...lots to see.”

Julia loved how her small hand fit snuggly inside his warm, larger one. She felt safe and happy. Just walking beside him and talking of nothing in particular left her so content. As far as she was concerned, this was the best day of her life, and the happiest she’d been since her mother’s death.

For the first time in a long time, life made sense. She belonged here, in London, and with Sam.

Deirdre rang the bell again, this time with more determination. She tapped her low-heeled, black pump and waited.

After a third ring, the door finally opened and Spencer’s wet head peered around the corner. “Deirdre! This is a shocker.”

She had no time for pleasantries. She pushed the door open and let herself in. Spencer backed away, grasping tight to the white towel covering his lower half.

“I was in the shower,” he said. “If you can wait a moment, I’ll go put on some clothes.”

“Fine. Hurry.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, noticing, as he walked away, his strong, muscular shoulders and well-defined waist. Playing tennis all day would do that, she surmised. But she hadn’t come to study Spencer’s physique.

She glanced around his home with an observant eye. She walked past the stairwell, down the corridor to the kitchen, noticing with particular interest the wine glasses and beer mugs on the counter. A quick peek into Spencer’s refrigerator confirmed all she needed to know.

“Ah, there, now.” Spencer returned, pulling a white t-shirt down over a pair of khaki shorts. Deirdre noticed he even combed his hair, and what was that alluring scent? Had he actually put on cologne?  Well, she had that affect on men, she supposed. They always sought to impress her.

He reached for a glass. “What brings you about?  Need a drink?”

Deirdre placed her small handbag down and leaned seductively against the counter. She traced a piece of stemware with one long, pink-painted nail and smiled coyly. “Spencer, are you having a party tonight?”

His guilty glance at the evidence she toyed with spoke volumes. “Just some friends over.”

“And
I
wasn’t invited?” She stood upright and produced her prettiest pout. “Oh Spencer. I’m hurt.”

“You never come to my parties.”

True
. “Well. I want to come to
this
one.” She waited for his reaction to confirm the one last piece of information she sought.

Spencer’s face blushed pink in his inability to answer. He rubbed the back of his neck, playing for time. But she had all the time in the world. She would get the information she needed if she had to remain in this drab little kitchen all day.

He looked at her, his pale blue eyes worried. Deirdre noted for one quick second that Spencer could actually be called handsome, if she went for fair, freckled, blonde haired, blue-eyed type, which she didn’t.

“It would be awkward to have you here, Dee, because-”

Bingo!
“Sam’s back, isn’t he?”

Spencer looked around the kitchen. “You sure I can’t get you anything to drink?  I could certainly do for a whiskey.”

Fire burned beneath her skin. No bloody drink could quench the sudden boiling in her blood. “He called
you
?”

“Well, yes, you see. We had plans to get together and-”

“How long has he been back?  I’ve left messages on his answering machine!”

“Two, three days, maybe.”

“And he didn’t call
me
?  I’m his fiancé!” Deirdre drew a deep breath and tried to remain calm. No one would see her ire, especially not Sam’s best friend.

“Well technically, you’re not-”

“Quiet!
” So much for remaining calm
.

Spencer stood in silence while Deirdre paced the tiny room. “What time is the party?”

“Deirdre, don’t-”

“Don’t you tell me what I can and can not do!”

“Seven.”

She picked up her purse. “I’ll be there.” She brushed past Spencer but to her surprise, he stood in the doorway and barred her exit.

“There’s something you need to know, Dee.”

She sighed with impatience. “What?”

“Sam is bringing someone to the party.”

“Who?” An odd feeling crept up her spine.

“He didn’t say exactly. Just that friend he met over in Germany.”

Deirdre straightened and bristled. “Well, I think
you
would be more worried than I am.”

She watched Spencer’s brows furl in confusion. “Why?”

Deirdre cocked an eyebrow. “Well, he hasn’t proposed to me and now is bringing a
friend
back from Germany?  Think about it, Spencer. Think long and hard. I certainly have. Why on earth would he choose not to marry
me
?  There’s only one possible reason I can think of. Now the only sad news is that he chose this other fellow over you.”

“Excuse me?” Spencer laughed. “You’ve got this all wrong, Deirdre. I’m not gay. Neither is Sam, for Christ’s sake.”

Deirdre pushed him out of her way and continued walking down the corridor. “See you tonight, love. Won’t it be a smashing party?  Won’t Sam be surprised to see me?”

“I think the surprise is going to be on you, love.”

She heard Spencer’s words but chose to ignore them. She hurried to her waiting car and driver.

“To the salon, Frederick,” she ordered to the elderly gentleman who held the car door open for her. “And hurry. I’ve no time to waste.”

Sam swerved the car to the curb. “Here we are.”

Julia stared at a weather-beaten stone building, unsure how to respond. The West End and Piccadilly Square had thrilled her, as did the rest of her London tour, but as for this run-down old building on this deserted street, she certainly had her doubts. “Where are we?”

“The Old Troubadour Theater.” Sam opened his door and exited the car. “It’s where I got my start in theater, but it’s closed now. Come on, then.”

Julia unfastened her seatbelt and followed Sam to the door of the creepy building. He shook the handle, but the door wouldn’t budge.

“I think I remember what to do.” Sam jolted the handle to the left and right and then jammed it upwards. With a loud click, the door unlocked and Sam pushed it open. “There. Glad to see that old trick still works.”

Julia followed Sam into the building and found herself in a light but spacious room, empty save for a platform stage and a few folding chairs.

“It’s so small.” Julia said, surprised.

“Ah, you’re not only pretty, but observant.” Sam leapt from the planked floor to the stage. “This is where I had my first professional stage appearance.”