The next morning when she awoke he was already up, showered and suited. He was immaculate.
‘Why didn’t you wake me.’ She scolded, feeling rather crumpled and worn in the face of his beautiful elegance.
‘I thought you needed the rest.’ He said and placed a breakfast tray across her lap. ‘Eat up, we’ve a busy day.’ ‘Oh, have we indeed…..’ ‘Yes…. It’s alright, I’ve already eaten. I’ve booked you at the salon, the full works. David is coming to iron out a few things, so you’d only be bored, then Ralph has ordered a script run through and I want you by my side for that.’
He paced up and down the room with nervous, edgy, volatile energy and she knew that he needed her acquiescence and calm acceptance.
‘That’s lovely, Jonathon. A girl loves to be pampered….. What would you like me to wear.’
'Anything you like for the salon, but the cream suit for the meeting with Ralph. You look so elegant in that Bea, absolutely stunning.’ he said, his mind racing ahead to that all important meeting. His whole career, his life, could hang in the balance at that.
‘Don’t bite your nails, sweetheart.’ He stopped immediately and gazed at her in a sudden crisis of doubt and terrified insecurity. ‘You’ll be fine, Jonathon. Truly you will.’
‘Christ, I need a fucking drink!’ his fist pounded the chair.
‘Jonathon!’
He looked at her, biting his lower lip. Blasphemy; foul language; drink. He was lucky not to have received at least one good slap. And there was still time. ‘I apologise.’ He said. ‘I just need one drink, Bea.’ he wheedled.
‘No! No, you do not. Oh Jonathon, don’t go there again. Remember what that does to you. One chance, half a chance, that’s all you said Ralph will give you. You don’t need that my darling. You’re better than that, really you are.’
‘Am I, Bea. Am I?’ desperate for her reassurance.
‘Yes.’ She said firmly ‘And if that’s not enough, just you remember this. You get drunk again and I’ll cut your balls off.!’
‘Bea!’ he cried, shocked and then his burst of rich deep mirth bounced round and round the walls. She never ceased to amaze him.. ‘Oh Bea, Bea’ he said weak from laughter. ‘You are so good for me.’
He went with her to the salon and caused a great excited stir. He took it as his due. He explained to the stylist what he wanted, his fingers framing Bea’s face. She sat still beneath it all. In fact she was rather overawed by the salon, she would not have known what to ask for and again this was his world. He knew fashion, he knew style. He knew what look he wanted in the woman he had on his arm and she would do nothing to undermine him or his, as yet, still fragile confidence. He was a peacock but he did not want a dowdy little peahen to escort around Town. It was important to him; he needed all the trappings of success to buoy him up so that he might regain what was important to him and what he regarded as his rightful place. And if she could help him by looking her best for him, that was small price to pay. It was a price she wanted to pay. In her loving eyes, he deserved nothing less.
Once he was sure the stylist knew exactly what to do, he bent and kissed Bea’s cheek. ‘Just get a taxi back to the hotel when you’re through.’ he said. ‘I’ll tell the receptionist to order it for you.’
She nodded and he left her. They probably thought she was an elderly great aunt or something being treated by her indulgent young relative. She almost giggled. If only they knew! She was very cautious and very discreet in answering any questions that came her way and soon they tired of asking and just got on with the job in hand.
As well as the styling of her hair, she had a manicure and a facial. When it was all done and she looked at herself she had to admit that he knew her very well. The cut and style was beautiful, her hair shiny and bouncy, her face had been made up with the most natural and soft colours to enhance her fair skin and dark eyes. She was pleased. Jonathon would be pleased, and that really mattered to her.
When she returned to the hotel she noticed a difference in the staff, there was new admiration in their eyes. ‘Miss Roberts’ they addressed her and escorted her through to the lift.
Jonathon was alone when she entered the room, and still nervously pacing.
‘Bea! You look beautiful.’ he complimented her.
‘Thank you Jonathon. Is everything alright? Has David been?’
‘Yes… yes...’ he seemed distracted; perhaps things had not gone so well, after all. ‘I’ve ordered lunch in our room.’ he said. ‘Then you can change and we’ll leave for the studio.’
‘That’s fine, sweetheart. Fine.’ whatever he wanted.
The lunch was excellent but he ate very little and then, distressingly he had to rush to the bathroom and she heard him retching violently.
‘Jonathon!’ she called urgently through the locked door. ‘Jonathon, are you alright? Oh please let me in.’ but he would not and came out later, pale and trembling. She rushed towards him. ‘Are you ill again…?’
‘No…no. It’s always like this, before rehearsals. Stage fright… I don’t know.’
‘You…. You haven’t had a drink…?’
‘Christ Bea! I promised you I wouldn’t.’ so hurt and disappointed that she had thought that of him.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.’
‘Me forgive you? Oh Bea, it’s little wonder you doubted me. But I haven’t Bea, I won’t. I need my balls.’ He made the little joke again and she held him close. He gently pushed her aside in a little while. ‘You finish your lunch.’ he said. ‘I’ll just sit here.’ But he kept getting up and looking at the clock.
‘I’ll get ready.’ said Bea and went and changed into her cream suit.
‘You look stunning.’ he said when she came out of the bedroom. She took his hand.
‘So do you.’ she whispered and he smiled. The phone rang and he answered it.
‘Taxi’s here.’ He announced; he looked decidedly green again but he swallowed the bile. Bea collected her handbag and they walked out to face the music.
The photographers were outside and she blinked in their flashlights. He posed for a few photos and gave a short interview all the while gripping her hand so tightly she feared it would be bruised. And when they asked about her, he squeezed her hand even tighter.
‘This wonderful lady has been instrumental in my recovery. I would not be here now, without her, but she is a very private lady who values her anonymity and so I would ask you gentlemen to leave her in peace.’ And with that he opened the taxi door and swiftly handed her inside. He scrambled in beside her.
‘Move off!!’ he commanded and the driver obeyed. ‘That will hold them at bay for a little while, but not long my love. You will find there is a very dear price to pay for knowing me.’
‘And I will gladly pay it. In full.’ She assured him and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.
‘Darling, Bea.’ he murmured.
They were taken to meet the head of production and Jonathon held her hand the whole way. She knew he gave the pretence of comforting her in a situation she was unfamiliar with, but she hoped she was the only one who knew how hard his hand was trembling. They were shown into Ralph Porteous’ elegant office and the heavy-set man did not even rise in greeting until he noticed Bea. He stood then.
‘Ralph.’ acknowledged Jonathon, ‘May I introduce Miss Bea Roberts, the lady responsible for saving my life.’
‘Jonathon. Miss Roberts.’ Ralph Porteous crossed the room and shook her hand. ‘Might you not be more comfortable in the hospitality room?’ he asked silkily and trying to steer her to the door.
‘I would rather Miss Roberts stayed, if you have no objection, Ralph.’ Jonathon replied steadfastly for her. The faintest of smiles played across the older man’s lips. What he had to say to this young man would be best said in private but if he wanted a witness to his upcoming humiliation then that suited Ralph Porteous’ purpose just as well.
‘As you wish; please take a seat Miss Roberts.’ He indicated two armchairs some distance from his desk. She sat and Jonathon was about to take the chair next to her when Ralph strode to the window.
‘Jonathon.’ He ordered. ‘Come; let me have a good look at you.’ Jonathon stiffened at the peremptory tone but released Bea’s hand and walked purposefully across the room and stood in front of the man, waiting.
Ralph looked him up and down and then swiftly reached out and gripped his jaw. Jonathon’s head jerked back but the man had him firmly and turned his face this way and that in the strong daylight streaming through the window. Jonathon lowered his eyes and said nothing but Bea could see his mounting fury that any man should handle him thus. She saw his mouth purse as he chewed the inside of his cheek and the muscle in his jaw jerked angrily and she could only wonder at what other more traumatic and distressing memories Ralph Porteous’ impertinent familiarity had roused in him. Ralph took his hand away and Jonathon stared unblinkingly out of the window.
‘Look at me!’ ordered Porteous harshly. ‘Look me in the eye Jonathon.’
Jonathon glared at him and did not bother to hide his insolent but unvented fury. The two men glared at each other for some moments. Ralph saw the healthy glow to the young man’s skin not entirely due to the anger. His eyes were clear and bright with no sign of puffiness or the tell-tale bloodshot residue of over-indulgence. He looked, in fact, better than Ralph had seen him in a long, long while. His flesh had been cool and dry and firm to the touch and he had detected no trace of alcohol on his breath when Jonathon had gasped when he first took hold of him.
‘You’ve lost weight.’ Ralph observed.
‘I said I’d never do ‘fat’ Henry.’ Jonathon pointed out sarcastically. ‘I’m not piling on the pounds and ruining my body with junk food for you or anybody…’ he continued defiantly.
‘No. But you don’t mind doing it with drink!’ roared Porteous. Jonathon recoiled as if he’d been slapped. Bea saw him clench his fists and the dark flush of anger crept up from his neck to his face and his eyes darkened with near murderous rage.
‘Jonathon.’ Bea murmured soothingly, but he didn’t even acknowledge that he had heard her. Bea watched him struggle with his towering emotion, but who was he more angry at, Ralph or himself? The two men continued to glare at each.
‘Jonathon.’ She murmured again and he did not even turn but put out one arm behind him, his hand palm down to her as if calming her and for her to hold her peace. He brought himself under control.
‘Deserved.’ he acknowledged to the man who held his future in his hands. ‘I apologise Ralph. I apologise for it all.’
‘There’s too much riding on this, Jonathon…’
‘I give you my word….’
‘That’s worth having is it?’ said the man bitterly. Jonathon lowered his head. He had given and broken his word to this man before but it didn’t make it any easier to take.
‘This production,’ breathed Ralph ‘has received world-wide acclaim. The last series swept the board for awards and yes, you had much to do with that, I’ll give you that much. But that was then and now is now and if you are so arrogant as to think it stands on you alone, think again! There are hundreds of pretty, talented boys out there only too ready to step into your shoes. I won’t stand and let this production run out of time and be brought into disrepute with any more of your drunken, foul-mouthed, brawling displays. I’m warning you if that happens I’ll do everything in my power to see you never work again. Not in any production worth doing. I’ll play the Henry – I’ll eviscerate you! Now get yourself on set and you had better give the performance of your lifetime, Jonathon, because it’s still not yours for the taking. Oh no, you’re not home yet. You’re going to work for it. Now get out.’
Jonathon tried to moisten his lips but he was parched. He nodded at the man.
‘Thank you.’ he said hoarsely.
‘Don’t presume to thank me yet, Jonathon.’ Porteous warned.
‘For the chance…..’ Jonathon explained.
‘And that’s all it is. One chance. Now go!’
Dismissed like an errant schoolboy from the headmaster’s study, Jonathon crossed the room and took Bea’s hand and led her from the room. Outside, he leaned briefly against the wall, trembling, drained. He spun away from Bea and retched. She fumbled and got a handkerchief from her bag and pressed it into his hands. He took it but shook his head.
‘I’ve nothing left.’ He assured her.
But he lifted the small square and smelled her perfume there, the Chanel No.5 he had bought for her and he drank it in as if it were wine.
She raised her hand to his cheek and it was burning but not with fever, or even anger but with shame. He was a proud man and he had been thoroughly and mercilessly humiliated; whipped, and she had witnessed it, but almost worse than that, he knew he deserved it.
He pushed away from the wall and led her off down the corridor.
‘You can do this Jonny.’ she assured him.
He gave a little bitter, mocking laugh. ‘Can I?’ and his uncertainty and self-doubt pierced her.
‘Yes! And if at this moment you’ve lost a little faith in yourself, don’t worry, I’ve enough for both of us. You’re better than anything, better than all the rest. Better than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re simply the best!’ she sang at him off key, out of tune. It made him laugh, it made him feel good. She always made him feel good.
‘Okay, Tina,’he chuckled. ‘let’s go show ’em.’
When they reached the set and everyone but Porteous was there, she felt his momentary doubt and uncertainty ripple through him once more. Thankfully he didn’t retch. How would they accept him? Would they accept him at all or turn on him like ravening wolves and bring him down. And then….
‘Jonny!’
He was suddenly flocked and she stood back as he was grabbed and pulled into the welcoming throng. His back was thumped and slapped, his face was covered in kisses; they were all talking at once and pumping his hands, punching his arm, pinching his cheeks. She saw him draw himself up to his full, but still not great height, his head high, his jaw at an arrogant tilt. He turned his head to look for her and when their eyes met she saw the proud insolence smouldering there and he grinned in triumph. He was king; Jonny was king.
Bea sat back and made no attempt to intrude upon his parade. She watched with a sick feeling of jealousy other women’s eyes and hands and lips on him. She wanted to shriek at them to leave him alone but she saw how he handled them, with charm and gentleness but authority. She observed him use all manner of teasing, flirtatious guile to evade a certain intimacy, for he allowed no woman to kiss him on the mouth and she knew he did that for her sake and she loved him more for it.
Ralph Porteous’ entrance on the set immediately hushed the celebration. Jonathon couldn’t quite quell the triumphant, impudent glint in his eye for his rapturous reception but he knew well enough his popularity with the cast and crew held no sway with this man. Porteous sat in his chair and with a surly thrust of his chin instructed them to begin. He had chosen one of the most arduous scenes, a long and convoluted tirade full of fury and passion but sometimes lapsing into pathos and self-pity and even a hint of doubt before erupting again into an irascibility brought on by the almost unbearable pain of the king’s ulcerated leg.
The set fell silent. Jonathon took a long, deep breath and slowly surveyed them all, his eyes his trademark unblinking stare. Then he roared out Henry’s oaths at the beginning of his towering, smouldering, magnificent performance. He was word and gesture perfect. He was electrifying, he was mesmerising and when he briefly descended into the monarch’s soul-destroying despair there was a soft sob from one of the younger actresses, so moved was she and Bea held her breath that it might distract him;, but he continued to the scene’s towering, harrowing climax. And he stood unmoving in the stunned silence that followed before the whole set erupted with whoops and shouts, applause and a standing ovation that went on and on.
Only one person was still sitting. And when he rose, all again was hushed as they waited his verdict.
'Jonathon! My office! Now!’ Porteous ordered and strode off.
Jonathon looked to Bea, for some kind of explanation. He’d been good, he’d been very, very good but still he was being punished, still he had to wait on this man for his verdict. To congratulations and good luck and more back slapping he walked, hand in hand with Bea, from the set to meet his fate.
Ralph Porteous almost threw the contract across the desk at him. Jonathon picked it up.
‘You sign that here, now, before you leave this office or not at all.’ Porteous told him.
‘Without reading it?’ demanded Jonathon
‘Your agent has agreed it.’ replied the man flatly. Jonathon reached for the phone.
‘May I?’
‘No!’ Porteous’ hand slammed down on the receiver. ‘Will you call me a liar now Jonathon?’ he threatened.
‘But only a fool would sign a document he hasn’t read….’
Porteous nodded.
‘Playing the fool has got you in this position, Jonathon. Only signing that will get you out of it. Now shall I call my secretary to witness it or are you leaving - with nothing?’
Jonathon sighed. He hated to be beaten but he had sense enough to realize when he was. He nodded and tried to ignore the satisfaction that spread across the older man’s face. Porteous rang for his secretary. They both signed two copies and she witnessed their signature and left.
‘Welcome aboard, Jonny. Welcome aboard.’ And Porteous held out his hand to shake on their deal. Jonathon would have loved to have spurned that outstretched hand and walked out, but he knew what that would cost him. He shook Ralph’s hand, picked up his copy of the contract.
‘Good day to you Ralph.’ He said and walked out, head high and reaching for Bea’s hand.
In the corridor he paused briefly. ‘I think I may have just sold my soul to the devil.’ He said bleakly.
‘You were magnificent.’ Bea told him.
‘He’s castrated me, Bea. I don’t need to read this to know he’s bound me hand, foot and finger and cut off my bollocks. He’s got me just where he wanted me. I’ll be dancing to his tune and paying him for the fucking privilege.’
‘Oh, but he’s admitted this production can’t proceed without you, Jonathon.’ she pointed out triumphantly. ‘You’re hot property again and he may think he has you in his hand, but everyone who’s ever spurned you or held back from offering you anything else will be fighting to sign for a piece of you now. This contract will end and by the time it does you will have another major award-winning television series under your belt and been acclaimed as the great actor you are and everyone will be falling over themselves to offer you the world on a plate. Now make good of this Jonathon. If you look upon it as a defeat, so will others. This is something to celebrate!’
He gazed at her in admiration. ‘You never cease to amaze me, Bea.’
‘And I hope I never will.’
‘Amen to that.’ He started to walk away.
‘And Jonathon?’
‘Yes Bea?’ he stopped and turned.
She beckoned him to her and he went willingly. She reached swiftly behind and slapped his buttocks hard.
‘Ow!’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought I’d got away with that.’ he laughed.
‘You will never get away with that.’ she informed him.
‘I apologise.’ he said and kissed her palm. ‘Forgiven?’
‘Forgiven. Now smile, you’re about to be on the front page.’
He was grinning from ear to ear as they emerged onto the street to a hail of flashlights and thrusting microphones. He was gracious, he was charming, he was amusing, he was proud. He was king.
At the hotel there was pandemonium, telegrams, phone messages. Bea took charge and insisted that they not be disturbed for at least two hours.
Back in their room, the elation melted and he trembled with exhaustion. She helped him undress and guided him beneath the covers and he sighed with gratitude. She put away his clothes, undressed and slipped beneath the sheets and just held him and soothed him to sleep.
He awoke refreshed and full of vigour but when he made love to her he was sweet and caring and kind and she thought her heart would burst for love of him.
Still in bed, they read all the messages of congratulations and good luck. He phoned David.
‘Yes, I’ve signed. It’s as bad as you said it would be; I’ve just read it through. The bastard has castrated me. I know. I know David. Bea said as much. There was no other option but Christ it feels I can’t even take a shit without he okays it first. Yeah, yeah. It’s the only way back. When… tonight….. where…… the whole gang eh? I’ll check with Bea, See you later and thanks David.’
She looked up at him. ‘I apologise.’ he said, for his language and crudity on the phone and waited with arms outstretched in supplication to see if she would give him a slap. She absolutely hated it when he lapsed into such crude language. But she merely nodded in acceptance of his apology.
‘You knew?’ she was surprised.
‘The contract…? Yes. When David came earlier he’d read it and had it checked with our lawyers. He told me how binding and limiting it is to me. It’s pretty damn water-tight but the money is good and I can still fulfil my modelling obligations. It served Porteous’ purpose to have me immaculately suited and booted and smelling sweet at someone else’s expense and free publicity, but as for the rest I can only do what he chooses for me whether I like it or not. And I like it not!’ He managed the small joke but it was bitter in his mouth.
‘And what else…. About tonight ?’ she reminded him.
‘Oh, a party, to celebrate. The whole gang have taken over a club…. You’ll probably hate it, but I should go and I want you with me. Please, Bea.’
She nodded. She could feel his nervous, restless energy surging up in him and he needed release.
He took her hands. ‘No drink’ he promised her earnestly. ‘I promise you, Bea. I won’t touch a drop. But it’ll be easier to say no if you’re there with me.’
‘Alright, Jonny.’ She agreed. He kissed her and she felt his full lips trembling on her mouth.
‘You’re so good for me, Bea.’ he breathed. But she wished with all her heart that they did not have to go, that he would not be faced with such temptations again so soon and that his demons would not emerge to torment him and drag him back down into his own private hell.