at the back of the theatre asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm. Not dripping—flooding.
Kat bristled like a cat, which wasn’t all that helpful, given she was supposed to be a dog. She took a deep breath and channelled her angst at the woman into her performance, using it to galvanise her into the performance of her life. She became Sylvia. She used every bit of Cricket’s quirkiness she had born witness to: his pleading looks, his energy, his over-the-top excitement and his frantic rear-end wagging and wriggling. She felt so authentic in the scene she wished she had a tail when it was over so she could wag it.
‘Thanks, Kathy,’ the director said. ‘I’ll let you know what we decide in a day or two.’
The woman at the back of the theatre rose from the chair she was sitting on. ‘I’ve already decided,’ she said in an accent that this time Kat recognised as none other than Elisabetta Albertini’s. ‘I want her. She was by far the best.’
Kat’s eyes widened as Elisabetta came out of the low light of the stalls towards the stage. Her dream felt like it was balanced on a high wire without a safety net. As soon as Elisabetta recognised her it would plummet to the cold, hard floor of reality. There was no way Elisabetta would want to star alongside her husband’s love child. No way in the world. It wouldn’t matter how brilliant a job she had done of the audition. It would be better to get in first to save everyone from embarrassment. ‘Erm...my name isn’t really Kathy McTaggart,’ she said. ‘My name is—’
‘Katherine Winwood,’ Elisabetta said. ‘Yes, I know.’
Kat fought hard not to be intimated by that cold, dark-brown, assessing stare. Was Elisabetta searching for her husband in Kat’s features? As much as Kat knew it must be galling for Elisabetta to face the living, breathing evidence of her husband’s betrayal, she still wished she could be accepted at face value, for herself, not for the trouble she had inadvertently caused. ‘I really want the part but if you’d rather not work with me then—’
‘Didn’t you just hear me say I wanted you?’ Elisabetta gave an imperious arch of her brow.
‘Yes, but I thought since—’
‘I want you in that part,’ Elisabetta said. ‘Fix it, will you, Leon?’ she said to the director. She turned back to Kat. ‘Rehearsals start on Monday. Be on time.’
Kat had trouble keeping her jaw off the floor as Elisabetta walked out with regal poise. Had that just happened? Had Elisabetta Albertini just insisted she get the part?
But why?
Was it because of her talent or was this some sort of publicity stunt? She hadn’t shown a skerrick of talent until Elisabetta had insulted her. How could she know for sure what Elisabetta’s motivations were? What if Elisabetta wanted to sabotage her career? What better way to get back at her husband Richard than by publicly humiliating his love child onstage?
‘Looks like you got the part,’ Leon said. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’ Kat mentally chewed at her lip. What if this was not about her acting merit? What if this was all about revenge? Wasn’t it the director’s or casting agent’s decision as to who got the part? Or had Elisabetta insisted on choosing whom she would front up with onstage? She had a reputation as a diva. And she certainly had the star power to call the shots. No one would ever employ Kat again if this turned out to be a stitch-up.
Why had Elisabetta chosen her other than to use it as an opportunity to get back at her?
The self-doubts sat like anvils on her shoulders. Her dream of being onstage was turning into a nightmare. The whole world would watch Elisabetta cut her down. It was risky but the determined streak in Kat’s personality thrived on the chance to prove to Elisabetta and to everybody she was made of stronger mettle. She would not be rattled or thrown off her game by a vindictive attempt to ruin her one chance at stardom.
‘Ruby the costume designer will measure you in Dressing Room B,’ Leon said. ‘I’ll email the contract to your agent.’
* * *
Flynn was sitting on his sofa with his foot up after work, reading through a client’s brief, when he got a call from Jake Ravensdale. ‘Jaz tells me you’re done like a dinner over Kat Winwood,’ Jake said. ‘Want to double up at my stag night? Half the cost, twice the fun.’
Flynn pushed the papers off his knee and Cricket promptly rested his furry chin on them, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. He reached out, absently stroked the little dog’s ears and was rewarded with a blissful puppy sigh. ‘My plan is to get her to your father’s party, not into church.’
‘Come on, man, you know Dad only wants her there to placate his fans,’ Jake said. ‘He doesn’t care a jot about her. Miranda and Jaz were quite taken with her. Do you reckon she’ll agree to meet Julius and me sometime, like at your wedding?’
‘Very funny,’ Flynn said. ‘But I want Kat to meet your father. I think it would be good for her. It will give her some closure. Even if she tells him to his face what she thinks of him.’
‘That’s going to be fun to watch,’ Jake said. ‘So, how’s the foot? Must be tricky sweeping her off her feet when you’re on crutches.’
Flynn eyed his bandaged foot with a scowl. ‘You can say that again.’
‘So is she The One?’ Jake said.
Flynn let out a swift curse. ‘What is it with you Ravensdales? You all get hitched within a month or two of each other and then try and recruit everyone else in your circle to do the bloody same.’
‘Just want you to be happy, mate.’ Jake adopted a serious tone for once. ‘You’re so jaded about settling down because of all those dirty divorces you handle. But life is short. Before you know it, you’ll be staring down the barrel of retirement. Is that all you want to show for your life? Work, work and more work?’
‘Listen,’ Flynn said. ‘I’m glad you and Jaz got your stuff sorted. You’re a great couple. Perfect for each other in every way. But leave me to my miserable life with work, work and more work, okay? I’m fine with it.’
Was he fine with it? Flynn thought once he had signed off on the call a moment or two later. Ever since Kat had come into his life he felt...different. Like the colours in his day were brighter, which was weird, since it was one of the bleakest, greyest winters on record. He felt sharper within himself, more switched on. More focused. He enjoyed life more, felt more potent, even though he hadn’t had sex in... When had he last had sex? He screwed up his face as he tried to recall his last relationship, not that it had been a relationship in any sense of the word. He had only slept with the woman a couple of times way back in September at a law conference in Newcastle before he’d lost interest.
September? Had it really been that long? He had been so focused on Kat Winwood since early October that no one else had taken his eye. He couldn’t even bear the thought of trying it on with anyone else. Who would match her for intelligence and feistiness? The chemistry between them was phenomenal. He had only to look at her and he wanted her. But it was more than a physical lust. Over the last few months he had got to know her. Getting to know a partner other than in the biblical sense was not usually high on his priorities.
But with Kat he felt he understood her. He could read her mood, even when she did her best to hide her emotions. Underneath all that feistiness and shtick was a sensitive girl who hadn’t
