The Picture Show Annual (1930)

118 Picture Show Annual Kay feeling horribly uncomfortable at being dragged into the row, had her gaze fixed on him like a scared rabbit, until the scratch of a match where Terry Marlow was lighting a cigarette with a nonchalance that seemed too elaborate to be real, diverted her attention for a moment. Above the flame, his eyes looked into hers, twinkling, kind, and he smiled reassuringly. He was a good sort, thought Kay, and smiled timidly back, a quick fleeting ghost of a smile, before she turned her gaze once more to the director. To her embarrassment, he was staring at her also, speculatively. For quite a while he stared, then suddenly he smacked his huge hands together. I've got It," he shouted. " Miss Bramley, I am taking up the challenge." He bent down and picked up the wig Jeannette had torn off. " Put it on," he ordered. Scarcely daring to acknowledge the hope that was leaping in her heart, Kay adjusted the wig on her sleek, fair head. The director scrutinised her closely for a few moments. Then he said : By Jove, it does it ! Miss Bramley, you've got to be Sleeping Beauty—and we'll make a long shot of the scene instead of a close-up. 1 can't afford to waste time waiting for Miss Joyce to recover her temper and make this scene. We II do without her. What are you looking like that for? Don't you think you can do it? All right then—go and get on the make-up and costume. Hurry ! " ' But " Kay began, l>ut he waved his hand. Hurry, I tell you, don't argue. " And Kay walked off, a little bewildered by this sudden turn of the wheel that gave her the chance to play Sleeping Beauty to Terry Marlow s prince, and wondering by what miracle she was to persuade the temperamental Jeannette to give her the costume. Slowly she began to mount the stairs leading to the dressing rooms, but on the third step she suddenly paused. Out of the dimness came a call : Miss Bramley " She recognised the voice at once—it was Terry Marlow's —and she waited a little breathlessly as he came up to her, a gallant young figure in his fairy-tale clothes. She looked down at him from her elevated position on the stairs. " Well ? " she said. " Oh—er—I just wanted to say that perhaps you'll find Miss Joyce rather difficult to manage. I've just a little influence with her, and if 1 can help you, ask me. I'll be m my dressing-room. " " Oh, Mr. Marlow, it's very kind of you—but I think I can manage all right. " Kay spoke a little uncertainly. It was overwhelming that the star of the film should notice her, and even offer to help her, but that he should be Terry Marlow was almost unbelievable. But it was just the sort of thing she had imagined he would do—she had heard tales of his generosity and kindliness, and believed them all with an eagerness that had made the studio shell of her, that she liked to think hard-boiled, laugh contemptuously at her hero-worshipping inner self. Besides, from what she had seen of him at the studio during the making of the picture, the tales were most probably true. She went on up the stairs leaving him looking after her, a softness in his eyes. Poor kid, I'd better stand by in readiness, " he said to himself, then added, " I wonder why I'm taking all this bother over a script girl ? " " Mr. Marlow, on the set, please ! " The voice of the callboy roused Terry from the un- conscious contemplation of his own features in the large square mirror screwed to the wall of his dressing-room The ^irl had not come, so he supposed that she had managed somehow to gather what she wanted from Jeannette—she must be a mountain of tact. He gave himself a last glance in the mirror, then picking up his make-up box, went out. On an impulse he walked across to the foot of the stairs leading to the women's dressing rooms, and at that moment a faint rustle made him look up. Kay stood at the head of the stairs and Terry caught his breath at the radiance of her beauty against the dim greyness of the background. She was a younger, lovelier edition of Jeannette. Is everything all right ? " he called up to her. . She came down close to him before she answered and her voice was half way between laughter and tears. Yes—now, " she said, " but my goodness, for a moment I thought that the chief would have to substitute Cinderella for Sleeping Beauty. Miss Joyce was— upset—naturally," she added hastily, lest she should appear to be unfair to the star. " And—well—as it is, I m afraid there s rather an insecure arrangement of safety pins at the back. You see, it tore a little as she was taking It off. " 1 understand. " Terry could just imagine Jeannette taking off the frock, and throwing it at Kay, following it with the little rosetted slippers. He slipped his hand under Kay's arm and pressed it. A wave of comfort seemed to be transmitted from him to her. Do you feel nervous ? ' " Well, just a bit, " Kay admitted. " But not so much now as I did at first. It's awfully kind of you to be so nice to me. " He smiled to himself a little smugly at her expression, and the inflexion of her voice. Tliis adorable un- sophisticated kid had fallen for him. " That's the spirit," he said. " If Montaigne bawls at you don't take any notice of the tone, but imbibe the instructions. They tu^rived in the area of light thrown by the arcs. For a moment she stood there in her low-necked, tight- fitting gown, the bright light emphasising the flawless- ness of her skin under its light layer of grease-paint. " Ah, there you are. Miss Bramley." Montaigne looked at her critically and Kay quivered, fearing an outburst. But to her surprise his grey eyes were kind. ' Excellent ! But your make-up's not quite right. Terry, may I have your make-up box for a moment ? " Deftly he added a few strokes to her eyebrows, lightened the shadows rouud her eyes, outlined the soft contours of her lips. " That's it, ' he said at last. '* Now we'll rehearse the scene. " Kay turned to go to the couch, but his voice stopped her. " Hullo ! What's the arrangement at the back ? " He pointed to the safety-pins. " Oh, the dress tore a little as Miss Jeannette's maid was taking it off," she stammered. " I—I hope it doesn't matter. I didn t think it would show. " The grey eyes twinkled knowingly. (Continued on page 120.)