Second Act by Marilyn Todd Read Free Book Online Page A

formed a half-open pout through which he could see her tongue. ‘After work?’
    ‘Of course I will,’ he promised, taking extra care as he buckled his belt to avoid meeting her gaze.
    ‘Miss you.’ She planted a kiss on her fingers and blew it across to where his hand was already closing round the door handle.
    ‘You, too, darling.’
    As an afterthought, Marcus winked. He had a feeling women liked that sort of thing.
    *
    The play was going well.
    Considering it hadn’t actually been written.
    Caspar, however, felt he knew enough about musical farce to rush ahead, confident of shoring up any shortfalls at the end. Improvisation was his middle name, he declared grandly. And since he was the Narrator from whom the actors took their cue, Claudia suspected that more than one previous production had owed more to frantic ad-libbing than a script.
    She was also beginning to understand what had prompted several members of the previous cast to break away and form their own company last October.
    But credit where it’s due, the whole troupe was pulling together on this. Leonides reported—sourly, it must be said, since it involved much burning of coals through the night and no consideration whatsoever as to the number of oil lamps that were lit—that few of the company had been to bed last night, scratching away on rolls of parchment in a bid to get the dialogue down and start rehearsals as soon as possible.
    ‘Teamwork wins the day, dear boy,’ Caspar had told him with a firm clap on the back. Before requesting bread and cheese for eight, even though the hour was after three.
    Far from showing the strain, however, the portly impresario’s face glowed and his little dark eyes shone. Unmistakably, a man in the grip of ecstasy.
    ‘These,’ he had announced, sweeping out of Claudia’s office with a sheaf of rustling parchments, ‘shall be billed as the Halcyon Spectaculars and our play—your play—I have called The Cuckold .’ He planted a loud kiss on the back of her hand and failed to notice that his hostess was shielding her eyes against his narcissus-yellow robe, lime-green bejewelled turban and turquoise belt. ‘Alas, I can’t stop to brief you on it now, dear lady, I must get started on the scenery, but rest assured you will be given progress within the hour.’
    With that, the little tornado scurried off in a flurry of rosewater scent and Claudia felt quite breathless as she settled down for breakfast. Hardly an original title, Halcyon Spectaculars, but appropriate enough—and catchy. She tucked her feet underneath her on the couch and sipped the spiced apple juice Leonides had warmed up in advance. Halcyon reflected perfectly the fourteen days that bridged the winter solstice, the time when the sea is calm enough for the fabled halcyon bird to lay her eggs upon the waves. Idly, Claudia wondered what else might be about to hatch.
    She was slicing off a wedge of pecorino cheese, her favourite, when Chiselled Cheekbones, he who had been watching her so intently yesterday, minced comically into the room, tossed back his fringe and perched cross-legged on top of the chest containing the silver.
    ‘I’m Doris,’ he announced. His voice was soft and slightly husky. ‘The name means bountiful, you know.’
    ‘Wasn’t Doris the nymph who married a sea god who could change his shape at will?’
    ‘And your point?’ The young man tilted his head to one side as he grinned. ‘Be a love, would you, and toss me a roll. Caspar said to brief you on the Spectacular, but he never said to do it on an empty stomach.’
    ‘I thought actors perform best when they’re hungry.’ Claudia threw across a hot roll peppered with poppy seeds, which he caught with one hand.
    ‘Not this thesp, kiddo,’ he said, catching the chunk of spicy sausage that came winging after it. ‘Right then,’ he said through a mouthful of dough. ‘The programme’s as follows.’
    Claudia wasn’t interested in the programme, only the