I can’t go to the party without Mr Gosselyn.’
‘Since when?’
‘Shut up, you old hag.
Phone through and say that I’ve got a bad headache and had to go home to bed, but Mr Gosselyn will come if he possibly can.’
‘The party’s being given special for you.
You can’t let the poor old gal down like that?’
Julia stamped her feet.
‘I don’t want to go to a party. I won’t go to a party.’
‘There’s nothing for you to eat at home.’
‘I don’t want to go home.
I’ll go and have supper at a restaurant.’
‘Who with?’
‘By myself.’
Evie gave her a puzzled glance.
‘The play’s a success, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.
Everything’s a success.
I feel on the top of the world.
I feel like a million dollars.
I want to be alone and enjoy myself.
Ring up the Berkeley and tell them to keep a table for one in the little room.
They’ll know what I mean.’
‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘I shall never in all my life have another moment like this.
I’m not going to share it with anyone.’
When Julia had got her face clean she left it. She neither painted her lips nor rouged her cheeks.
She put on again the brown coat and skirt in which she had come to the theatre and the same hat.
It was a felt hat with a brim, and this she pulled down over one eye so that it should hide as much of her face as possible.
When she was ready she looked at herself in the glass.
‘I look like a working dressmaker whose husband’s left her, and who can blame him?
I don’t believe a soul would recognize me.’
Evie had had the telephoning done from the stage-door, and when she came back Julia asked her if there were many people waiting for her there.
‘Abouf three ’undred I should say.’
‘Damn.’
She had a sudden desire to see nobody and be seen by nobody.
She wanted just for one hour to be obscure.
‘Tell the fireman to let me out at the front and I’ll take a taxi, and then as soon as I’ve got out let the crowd know there’s no use in their waiting.’
‘God only knows what I ’ave to put up with,’ said Evie darkly.
‘You old cow.’
Julia took Evie’s face in her hands and kissed her raddled cheeks; then slipped out of her dressing-room, on to the stage and through the iron door into the darkened auditorium.
Julia’s simple disguise was evidently adequate, for when she came into the little room at the Berkeley of which she was peculiarly fond, the head waiter did not immediately know her.
‘Have you got a corner that you can squeeze me into?’ she asked diffidently.
Her voice and a second glance told him who she was.
‘Your favourite table is waiting for you, Miss Lambert.
The message said you would be alone?’
Julia nodded and he led her to a table in the corner of the room,
‘I hear you’ve had a big success tonight, Miss Lambert.’
How quickly good news travelled.
‘What can I order?’
The head waiter was surprised that Julia should be having supper by herself, but the only emotion that it was his business to show clients was gratification at seeing them.