Oliver, Samantha and Sabrina make their way backstage through the crowd. A throng of actors mill around the hallowed corridors and a general buzz of excitement pervades the air, tinged with relief at the first night’s successful performance. The audience loved the production and demanded several curtain calls. Even though Oliver is a fellow member of their profession, several actors turn their heads as he passes by. Samantha throws her father a smirk, to which she receives a raised eyebrow in response.
‘Here we are,’ Sabrina announces, halting at a door. She knocks.
‘Enter,’ a woman’s husky voice calls out.
As they cross the threshold into Heather’s dressing room, wafts of sweet scent greet them. Numerous bouquets of varying sizes and colour adorn every surface and give the room the appearance of a florist’s shop. A young assistant arrives in the doorway behind them with yet another bouquet.
‘Where shall I put these, Ms McMullen?’
Heather sits at a large mirror surrounded by lights. In the reflection, her eyes immediately lock onto Oliver’s. She waves her hand airily at the girl. ‘Anywhere you can find a space.’ She turns and gives the actor a megawatt smile, her radiance filling the room. ‘Oliver, darling.’ Rising from her chair and with hands outstretched, Heather quickly crosses the room. ‘How wonderful you came.’ Taking his hands in hers, she rises on tiptoe and kisses him on the cheek.
‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ says Oliver.
‘What did you think?’ she asks, still holding his hands.
‘It’s an excellent play and the role was made for you.’
Heather smiles with delight. Putting her arm around Oliver’s waist, she snuggles against his chest. Her gaze transfers to the two women standing politely alongside.
‘Oh, darling,’ Heather says, her tone changing as she holds out a hand to her agent. ‘I’m so pleased you made it, too!’
Sabrina squeezes Heather’s hand. ‘Like Oliver, I wouldn’t have missed it either.’
Suddenly Heather’s eyes widen. ‘Why, aren’t you just the most elegant, young thing?’ she chirrups. Extracting herself from Oliver, she slowly circles Samantha, looking her up and down.
Unused to people scrutinising her in such a manner, Samantha blinks in surprise. She bites down hard on her lip in an attempt to stem the amused laughter wanting to burst forth.
‘And where did you spring from?’ asks Heather.
Samantha looks at Oliver and pulls a wry face.
‘Samantha is my eldest child,’ says Oliver with pride.
Heather stops circling and glances at Oliver. ‘But, darling, she’s simply adorable!’ She looks Samantha straight in the eye. ‘Do tell. What’s it like to have Oliver as a father?’
Samantha shrugs. ‘He’s just Dad.’
Clapping her hands together, Heather gives a shrill laugh. ‘Oh, isn’t she just the most delightful thing?’ she says to Sabrina.
Her agent nods in agreement.
‘You have the hottest, most talented actor on the planet as a father and you think he’s just Dad! My darling girl—’ Heather hooks arms with Samantha and walks her to the seat in front of the mirror ‘—sit,’ she commands. Placing her hands on Samantha’s shoulders, she pushes her down into the chair.
Bemused, Samantha stares at her reflection.
Heather leans down and levels her head with Samantha’s. She studies the young woman in the mirror. ‘Tell me what you see standing over there by the door.’
Samantha lifts her gaze to Oliver. Of course, she’s aware of how good-looking he is – she’d be blind not to see it – and all her life she’s witnessed people’s reactions to him. What does this woman want her to say?
‘Well?’ presses Heather.
Samantha shrugs again. ‘As I said, he’s just Dad.’
Oliver smiles. Like her mother, she’s her own woman.
Heather straightens up and turns to Oliver. ‘All I can say, darling, is you’ve brought your gorgeous daughter up to be a very level-headed young woman. She won’t go far wrong.’
‘Thank you, Heather,’ says Oliver graciously. ‘It was always our intention to give the children a grounded upbringing.’
‘Ah, yes, you have brothers,’ says Heather, turning back to Samantha. ‘Three, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And are they all like Oliver?’
Samantha considers the actress’s question. ‘They all resemble him in one way or another, but I guess the one most like Dad in character is Jamie.’
‘The youngest,’ Oliver says softly.
Heather smiles at Samantha in the mirror. ‘It must be wonderful to have brothers. I bet they spoil you rotten!’
‘Not particularly,’ Samantha says, ‘but they have their moments.’ As Heather turns away from her, Samantha pulls another face at her father.
Oliver grins and winks at his daughter.
‘So, darlings, let’s celebrate.’ Heather waves at the young assistant in the corner of the room sorting out the leading lady’s wardrobe. ‘Amanda, bring me three more champagne glasses.’
‘Coming right up, Ms McMullen,’ says the girl, temporarily abandoning her duties.
To one side of the dressing table, a bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket. ‘Have a seat, darlings,’ Heather says, taking out the bottle and topping up her glass. Daintily, she takes a sip.
As the assistant returns with three flutes, Heather pours champagne into the glasses. She passes one to Oliver with a twinkling smile before handing the others to Sabrina and Samantha.
‘Santé!’ Raising her glass to her guests in general, Heather makes direct eye contact with Oliver.
‘Salute,’ says Sabrina.
‘Cheers!’ Samantha responds.
‘To you, Heather,’ Oliver says, understanding only too clearly the unspoken promise in her eyes. ‘And here’s to many more spectacular performances.’
‘Ah, yes,’ she says, a suggestive smile playing on her lips, ‘to spectacular performances…’
Oliver averts his gaze. He’s always enjoyed Heather’s wicked sense of humour and subtle innuendo, but this is neither the time nor place with his daughter sitting on the opposite side of the room.
‘The play has a terrific cast, don’t you think, Heather?’ Sabrina asks, diverting the interplay between the leading lady and the award-winning actor.
Heather gazes at Oliver for a fraction longer. Giving an almost indiscernible sigh, she turns her attention to her agent and enters into an educated discussion about theatre. Soon, the bottle of champagne is finished and Heather orders another, refusing to hear that they all have homes to go to.
‘You can’t leave a Dame drinking all on her ownsome,’ she pleads in a deep, husky, sexy voice.
Some time later, Oliver glances at his watch. It’s way past midnight. At this rate he will be cutting it fine if he wants to reach Hunter’s Moon before Deanna gets back. He places his empty glass on a small side table. ‘As much as it grieves me, Heather, I have to go.’
Disappointment registers in Heather’s eyes. ‘I suppose it takes a while to get back to that country pile of yours, even at this time of night.’
Oliver smiles. ‘It’s been a wonderful evening. Thank you.’ He rises to his feet.
‘I’m so pleased you all came,’ Heather says. She glances at Samantha. ‘If you, young lady, and your friends would like tickets, please let me know. I like to encourage the younger generation to become theatregoers.’
‘Thank you,’ says Samantha politely. ‘I may do. Several of my college friends are keen on theatre.’
‘Well, don’t hesitate to ask,’ says Heather. ‘I mean it.’
Oliver is about to follow Samantha and Sabrina out into the corridor when Heather grabs his hand.
‘Darling, I will be in touch.’ she says. ‘There’s so much I want to do while I’m in London and it would be such a thrill if you agreed to participate in some, if not all.’
Oliver gazes down at her. There’s never been any hidden agenda with Heather. Her attitude to life is straightforward; fun, for fun’s sake. And what he needs in his life right now is some fun.
‘I’d like that very much,’ he says with a smile.
‘Oh, good,’ Heather says. ‘Indeed, what I have planned I think you will very much like!’
She glances along the corridor and sees Sabrina and Samantha at the far end, deep in conversation. Standing on tiptoes, she kisses Oliver on the lips.
‘And that,’ Heather says, the mischief dancing just beneath the surface of her eyes, ‘is for starters!’