The Mistress of Alderley by Robert Barnard

case, and decided it was because Olivia had not had enough to do in the last scene, that things had been wound up too quickly after her long absence from the action. But the cheers went on, and the curtain went up and down and up again. The conductor acknowledged the source of the enthusiasm by pushing Olivia forward to take personal calls three times. Then, at last, the lights went up.
    Walking again up the aisle, and enjoying a fresh burst of undeserved congratulations, Caroline wished Marius had slipped back in as he had said for the end of the opera and the acclaim. He loved that kind of excitement. But perhaps he had been watching from the back. When the wave of people got out into the corridor, Caroline slipped into the empty bar. No point in trying to get up to the Grand Circle, where the party was, until the Grand Circle patrons had made their way down the staircase and out into the street. She could see no Marius, either lurking in the corridor or the bar. She listened to the ecstatic comments of the departing audience with pleasure. One woman agreed with her:
    â€œIf only Verdi had given her a bit more to do in that last scene.”
    But there was no doubt it was a triumph. One didn’t have to wait for the critics to know that. In fact, only a dog in a manger could dissent.
    When the swell of departing audience abated she emerged and made her way up to the bar in the Grand Circle. “Tell her we thought she was magnificent,” a man she didn’t know called to her. She smiled graciously and said that she would.
    When she arrived at the Circle Bar she was taken under the wing of a member of the Opera North staff, who recognized her at once and fetched her a drink, as well as directing her to the trays with tempting eats on them.
    â€œI couldn’t eat a thing,” said Caroline.
    â€œIt is awfully exciting, isn’t it?” said the woman. Caroline didn’t tell her that what was preventing her regaining her appetite was not her daughter’s triumph but worry about Marius.
    â€œI’m Enid, by the way,” said the woman. “Call me over if there’s anything you need.”
    When Enid left, a little group started gathering around Caroline, but it parted as soon as Olivia made her entrance. She immediately spotted her mother and came darting over—getting me done first, said Caroline to herself, for she knew her daughter and knew theatrical priorities. The two of them folded each other in an embrace.
    â€œWonderful, darling,” said Caroline.
    â€œRoom for improvement, especially the last scene,” said Olivia, with a rueful grimace.
    â€œI thought that was Verdi’s fault.”
    â€œNot much point in asking for a rewrite at this moment in time. Where’s Marius?”
    â€œHasn’t arrived yet. He may have got caught up in something at the Playhouse Courtyard Theatre that ends late.”
    â€œSend him over when he comes, won’t you? I don’t want him to sneak away without talking to me.”
    â€œMarius isn’t the sneaking-away type. He’ll want to be part of your triumph, even if he did only see the first scene.”
    Olivia nodded, then went to talk to the people who mattered—the company administrator, the conductor and director, a few words to the secretary and the chairman of the Friends. All eyes were on her, as if she were visiting royalty. Clutching her drink Caroline enjoyed her daughter’s poise and purpose, but felt rather out of it, especially when Rick arrived with Lauren Spender, still dressed as the nurse from Loot. She had come in a taxi from Bradford, where the play was being performed, and as she and Rick wafted past her on their way to pay their meed of tribute to Olivia, Lauren found the time to say, “Been stood up, darling? Don’t men treat us girls rotten !”
    Caroline simply turned away. But she realized that she must have been looking rather out of things, rather bereft.