The Little One [Quick Read 2012] Read Free Page A

heard footsteps.
    The door was swung open by James Halliday, the producer. He was portly, with thinning hair, and was dressed in a flamboyant floral shirt. He flung out his arms and bellowed,
‘Welcome.’
    There were a lot of ‘hellos’ and ‘darlings’ and many cheeks were kissed. Then James directed everyone down a dark hall towards the kitchen. Off to one side they could
just make out a wide staircase with a worn paint-spattered carpet. There was a chandelier with many bulbs missing, but the crystals glittered brightly.
    Like everyone else, Barbara stepped gingerly in the dark, following James through big green-painted doors.
    The kitchen was surprisingly bright, warm and welcoming. It had high glass-fronted cabinets, some half-stripped of their paint. They were filled with blue-and-white crockery.
Dominating the huge space was a fifteen-foot oak table. Stacked at the far end were wine glasses and paper plates and big bowls of salad. One wall was taken up by a vast Aga. A log fire was blazing
opposite. There was a large Chesterfield sofa with tartan rugs folded on the arms and velvet cushions scattered at the back.
    Barbara emptied Alan’s box of food and laid things out on plates. She was trying to make herself useful, as everyone else seemed to know each other and they were busy chattering away very
loudly.
    There was an uneasy atmosphere, all of them wondering where the star of the party was. Some whispered that she might not make an appearance. People were drinking and starting to pick at the food
when Alan clapped his hands.
    ‘Here she is.’
    Margaret Reynolds stood in the doorway, even more beautiful than in the photographs. She had thick, dark, shoulder-length hair, flawless skin and large dark brown eyes. Her
face, devoid of make-up, was very pale but her cheeks were flushed. She was also taller than Barbara had thought and very slender. She was wearing a high-collared Victorian blouse with a brooch at
her neck and leg-of-mutton sleeves that were frilled at her wrists. Her long dark skirt was fitted to perfection, showing off her flat stomach and shapely hips.
    They all grew silent and then Alan, rather embarrassingly, began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’. Everyone joined in and Margaret accepted a glass of wine. She seemed deeply shy and her
hand was shaking as she raised her glass. She had a lovely soft sweet voice.
    ‘Thank you all for coming. Before the party really begins I think you should all know that, as much as I appreciate you making such an effort, there is no possibility of my returning to
work on the series. I have already told our wonderful producer, James, that I have retired and there is nothing that will change my mind.’
    She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped, as everyone began talking to cover their disappointment. Barbara was fascinated, watching as Margaret moved from one person to another.
    Margaret caught sight of Barbara and headed towards her.
    ‘I’m sorry, have we met before?’
    ‘No, I’m a friend of Alan’s.’
    Alan quickly came over and made the introductions.
    ‘Are you an actress, Barbara?’
    ‘No, I’m a writer.’
    Alan was obviously relieved that she hadn’t said she was a journalist. Margaret moved off and Barbara leaned close to Alan.
    ‘She’s gorgeous, so beautiful.’
    ‘Yes. And she doesn’t seem to have aged at all.’
    Barbara tried to mingle, but it wasn’t easy. The actors all talked about old times and there were a few laughs as they recalled amusing things that had happened. Someone
turned on the radio and found a music station. It was an improvement, but this was clearly not a very successful birthday party.
    After several glasses of wine, Barbara needed the bathroom. She asked Felicity for directions and was pointed down the corridor, not far from the kitchen.
    Barbara slipped out, but when she got there the door was locked. She waited for a while and then, glancing around, headed further down the hallway towards the front