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Talk to him. Will you?"
"But  "
"Won't take you second," Rodrick interrupted. "You're my last chance. Please.
I've been worried about Sean for weeks. His part would be hard enough for a
woman to play, let alone . . ." He stopped, then went on weakly, "Please,
Marlowe, I'm afraid for him. You'd do us all a great service."
Peter Marlowe hesitated. "All right."
"Can't thank you enough, old boy." Rodrick mopped his brow and led the way
through the pandemonium to the back of the theater, Peter Marlowe reluctantly
in tow. The King followed absently, his mind still concentrating on how and
where and when to make the break.
They stood in the little corridor. Uneasily Peter Marlowe knocked. "It's me,
Peter. Can I come in, Sean?"
Sean heard him through the fog of terror, slumped on his arms in front of the
dressing table.
"It's me, Peter. Can I come in?"
Sean got up, the tears streaking his makeup, and unbolted the door. Peter
Marlowe hesitantly came into the dressing room. Sean shut the door.
"Oh Peter, I can't go on. I've had it. I'm at the end," Sean said helplessly.
"I can't pretend any more, not any more. I'm lost, lost, God help me!" He hid
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his face in his hands. "What am I going to do? I can't face it any more. I'm
nothing. Nothing!"
"It's all right, Sean old chum," Peter Marlowe said, deep with pity. "No need
to worry. You're very important. Most important person in the whole camp, if
the truth be known."
"I wish I were dead."
"That's too easy."
Sean turned and faced him. "Look at me, for the love of God! What am I? What
in God's name am I?"
In spite of himself, Peter Marlowe could see only a girl, a girl in pathetic
torment. And the girl was wearing a white skirt and high heels and her long
legs were silk-stockinged and her blouse showed the swell of breasts beneath.
"You're a woman, Sean," he said as helplessly. "God knows how - or why - but
you are."
And then the terror and the self-hatred and the torment left Sean.
"Thank you, Peter," Sean said. "Thank you with all my heart."
There was a tentative knock on the door. "On in two minutes," Frank called
anxiously through the door. "Can I come in?"
"Just a second." Sean went to the dressing table and brushed away the tear
stains and repaired the makeup and stared at the reflection.
"Come in, Frank."
The sight of Sean took Frank's breath away, as it always had. "You look
wonderful!" he said. "You all right?"
"Yes. Afraid I made a bit of a fool of myself. Sorry."
"Just overwork," Frank said, hiding his concern. He glanced at Peter Marlowe.
"Hello, good to see you."
"Thanks."
"You'd better get ready, Frank," Sean said. "I'm all right now."
Frank felt the girl's smile, deep within him, and automatically fell into the
pattern that he and Rodrick had begun three years before and bitterly
regretted ever since. "You're going to be marvelous, Betty," he said, hugging
Sean. "I'm proud of you."
But now, unlike all the countless other times, suddenly they were man and
woman, and Sean relaxed against him, needing him with every molecule of being.
And Frank knew it.
"We'll - we're on in a minute," he said unsteadily, rocked by the suddenness
of his own need. "I've - I've got to get ready." He left.
"I'd, er, better be getting back to my seat," Peter Marlowe said, deeply
troubled. He had felt more than seen the spark between them.
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"Yes." But Sean hardly noticed Peter Marlowe.
A final check of the makeup and then Sean was waiting for a cue in the wings.
The usual terrored ecstasy. Then Sean walked on andbecame. The cheers and
wonder and lust poured overher - eyes following asshe sat and crossedher legs,
asshe walked and talked - eyes reaching out, touchingher, feeding onher.
Togethershe and the eyes became one.
"Major," Peter Marlowe said as he and the King and Rodrick stood in the wings
watching, "what's this Betty business?"
"Oh, part of the whole mess," Rodrick replied miserably. "That's the name of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]