character, “Why, Penny my child!”
“Don’t you call me that , either! You fake! You phony! You— actor! ” She jumped up, ran as far as she could—which was only to the door—and stood there, faced away from me, her face buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking with sobs.
I made a tremendous effort and lifted myself out of the character—pulled in my belly, let my own face come up, answered in my own voice. “Miss Russell!”
She stopped crying, whirled around, looked at me, and her jaw dropped. I added, still in my normal self, “Come back here and sit down.”
I thought she was going to refuse, then she seemed to think better of it, came slowly back and sat down, her hands in her lap but with her face that of a little girl who is “saving up more spit.”
I let her sit for a moment, then said quietly, “Yes, Miss Russell, I am an actor. Is that a reason for you to insult me?”
She simply looked stubborn.
“As an actor, I am here to do an actor’s job. You know why. You know, too, that I was tricked into taking it—it is not a job I would have accepted with my eyes open, even in my wildest moments. I hate having to do it considerably more than you hate having me do it—for despite Captain Broadbent’s cheerful assurances I am not at all sure that I will come out of it with my skin intact—and I’m awfully fond of my skin; it’s the only one I have. I believe, too, that I know why you find it hard to accept me. But is that any reason for you to make my job harder than it has to be?”
She mumbled. I said sharply, “Speak up!”
“It’s dishonest! It’s indecent! ”
I sighed. “It certainly is. More than that, it is impossible— without the wholehearted support of the other members of the cast. So let’s call Captain Broadbent down here and tell him. Let’s call it off.”
She jerked her face up and said, “Oh no! We can’t do that.”
“Why can’t we? A far better thing to drop it now than to present it and have it flop. I can’t give a performance under these conditions. Let’s admit it.”
“But—but—we’ve got to! It’s necessary.”
“Why is it necessary, Miss Russell? Political reasons? I have not the slightest interest in politics—and I doubt if you have any really deep interest. So why must we do it?”
“Because—because he ——” She stopped, unable to go on, strangled by sobs.
I got up, went over, and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know. Because if we don’t, something that he has spent years building up will fall to pieces. Because he can’t do it himself and his friends are trying to cover up and do it for him. Because his friends are loyal to him. Because you are loyal to him. Nevertheless, it hurts you to see someone else in the place that is rightfully his. Besides that, you are half out of your mind with grief and worry about him. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I could barely hear it.
I took hold of her chin and tilted her face up. “I know why you find it so hard to have me here, in his place. You love him. But I’m doing the best job for him I know how. Confound it, woman! Do you have to make my job six times harder by treating me like dirt? ”
She looked shocked. For a moment I thought she was going to slap me. Then she said brokenly, “I am sorry. I am very sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”
I let go her chin and said briskly, “Then let’s get back to work.”
She did not move. “Can you forgive me?”
“Huh? There’s nothing to forgive, Penny. You were acting up because you love him and you were worried. Now let’s get to work. I’ve got to be letter-perfect—and it’s only hours away.” I dropped at once back into the role.
She picked up a spool and started the projector again. I watched him through it once, then did the acceptance speech with the sound cut out but stereo on, matching my voice— his voice, I mean—to the moving image. She watched me, looking from the image back to my face with a dazed
Joy Nash, Jaide Fox, Michelle Pillow