Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1941)

STEPMOTHER ■ "Kay opened her eyes on the darkness. The shock of awakening had been so sudden that her nerves were still tingling." So begins one of the greatest emotional experiences ever published in these pages, the story of a beautiful woman whose marriage plunged her into a whirlpool of jealousy and passion. Begin this powerful radio drama now KAY opened her eyes on the darkness. The shock of awakening had been so sudden that her nerves were still tingling from it. Then again, she heard the sound that had first startled her into wakefulness. Outside, there was a shrill burst of laughter and a car door was slammed. A motor was raced and over the roar of it, Kay heard her step-daughter, Peg, call gayly, "See you tomorrow!" There was the clatter of high heels coming up the walk. Kay glanced at the clock and frowned at its luminous dial. Three-thirty. And Peg had. promised her father to be home by twelve. John had made quite an issue of it at dinner. In fact, he hadn't wanted her to go out at all and only gave his permission, finally, on the condition that she come home early. And now, here she was — not only late, but making no effort to be quiet. In the bed next to Kay's, John stirred restlessly and Kay held her breath, afraid he would awaken. After a moment, she slipped out of bed and, pulling on her dressing gown, crept out of the bedroom to the dimly lit landing. Peg was coming up the stairs now, dreamily swinging her widebrimmed hat by its ribbon and whistling a popular tune. Her blonde curls had been blown about by the wind and her blue eyes were shining. She was smiling to herself and the smile gave her wide mouth a look of childishness. She looked so young and sweet that Kay's annoyance almost faded. Then, she saw her stepmother and her face grew cold and petulant. "Ssh," Kay whispered. "Please be quiet, Peg. Your father's asleep. You promised to be in early." 14 Copyright 1938 by Sherman & Marquette, Inc. published 1941) Peg's gaze measured Kay coolly. "I'm sorry," she said with calculated impudence. "But I only promised because you made Dad insist on it." Kay sighed. "I did nothing of the sort," she said. "It's your father, not I, who objects to your late hours." "Well," Peg retorted, "all I know is that he doesn't think it's necessary to wait up and spy on me!" A quick answer sprang to Kay's lips, but she closed them firmly and watched Peg walk past her, down the corridor to her own room. Then she crept back to her own bed, trembling with mingled anger and self-pity. At nineteen, you could be so cruel, so implacable! Everything Peg did and said was designed to make her stepmother feel like an interloper, or, failing that, to undermine her authority asf mistress of the house. Oh, Peg had been very open about it, right from the beginning— she was taking no direction or criticism from any strange woman just because that woman happened to be married to her father. And especially not from a woman who was only nine years older than herself. Peg took every opportunity — and where there was none, she manufactured one — to assert her independence and make her hostility felt by Kay. Tonight, for instance. Kay's only motive in leaving her bed and meeting Peg in the hall had been to protect the girl from her father's anger if he woke and discovered she had broken her promise to be in early. But Peg had cleverly twisted that motive into a desire to spy on her. On the other hand, if John had heard her come in, she would have accused Kay of having awakened him deliberately so he could catch Peg in the wrong. It was all so difficult, so tremendously difficult! Lying there in bed, her wide-open eyes staring up at the dark ceiling, Kay faced the problem squarely. Obviously, she and John could not have a happy marriage without the help of John's children. And one of those children refused to give that help. Suddenly, in a wave of sick bitterness, she felt that she had undertaken too impossible a task when she married John Fairchild and came to Walnut Grove to live. She loved John, yes, loved him so much that even now she couldn't imagine a life without him. Still — life had been pleasant before she knew him. And a wave of nostalgia brought the memories flooding back. CHICAGO. Chicago in the rain and herself, wet and muddy to the knees, hurrying back to the office with a story. The managing editor barking orders at her, treating her like a man, because — "you're the best damn newspaperman in this town." Chicago in the sun. Visiting celebrities to interview. Hotel rooms and handshaking. Chicago at night. Swing music and rackets. Racketeers and stories about them and — David. No! Not David. Mustn't think of him. Escape — run from heartbreak, like before. "Uncle George" calling her a fool, but understanding and giving her an assignment to do small town impressions. Then, Walnut Grove and John Fairchild. The spinning days, with John rolling them along faster and faster, taking her breath away. Calls in the morning, lunch, dinner, drives through the night. Flowers. More phone calls. More days running swiftly by, with nothing in them RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR