This first chapter re-tells the story of that episode, as if it were an Avengers story.
EVER AFTER
Doctor Roger Smythe and Doctor Tara King were dressed in the white linen gowns of their profession, but their visitor, who was not a doctor, outdid them all, with a cap on his head that completely hid his hair, and a surgical mask that obscured his chin, face and nose. Only his eyes were visible, bright blue eyes that seemed almost incandescent.
''We'll look in on John Steed first,'' Dr. King said, leading the way down the corridor. ''I really think his Preparation is the crowning event in my career.'' They paused in front of a blank wall at the end of the corridor, and Dr. King pressed a button. The plate glass window in front of them glowed into life.
On the other side of the glass, a man sat in front of a wooden mock-up of a piano. He wore black tie and tails, his fingers flashed over the keys, his eyes were closed and his face uplifted in rapture at the music he was 'playing.'. It was John Steed.
''Meet Brian Harris,'' Dr. King said, smugly.
''A concert pianist?'' the masked man said. ''How is that possible?''
''I could have made Steed in to anybody. It was just Brian Harris' bad luck that he resembled Steed so closely. And, of course, had no family.''
''But a concert pianist? I don't think Steed can even carry a tune.''
''He can now. He may not have the innate spark of genius that caused Brian Harris to scale the heights, but he can reproduce any Brian Harris performance that Harris recorded - and that's enough for most listeners.''
The masked man nodded.
''Steed now has an entirely new persona overprinted over his old one. Faint childhood memories, young manhood, the Ecole de Music, eleven years of concert touring. Wine, women and song. He is Brian Harris.''
''What about Emma Peel?''
''My esteemed colleague,'' Dr. King nodded to Dr. Smythe, ''has taken care of Mrs. Peel.''
They retraced their steps to the other end of the corridor, and Dr. Smythe pressed the button which revealed Emma Peel in her own white room. She was surrounded by artistic materials, and sat in a chair sketching intently on a large pad.
''Meet my sister,'' Roger Smythe said with a smirk. ''She's divorced, and she's moving to New York to start a new life. She's already been hired at a department store and will take up her position as a fashion illustrator in a few weeks.''
''Mrs. Peel, as a fashion illustrator for a department store? How delicious.''
Smythe shrugged. ''It was necessary to give her a mundane profession. Any position in which she had to exercise her physical or mental skills might interfere with her programming and cause her to start thinking ambitiously, which would undoubtedly dredge up old memories. As it is, she has extreme artistic talent and will probably blossom into one of the great artistic talents of New York.''
''Not that that's saying much,'' Dr. King said with a sniff.
The masked man nodded. ''And so the partnership of John Steed and Emma Peel has ceased to exist. They have no knowledge of each other.''
Dr. King and Dr. Smythe exchanged glances. ''Well,'' said Smythe, ''We couldn't go that far.''
The masked man's blue eyes turned into chips of glacier ice. ''I beg your pardon?''
Dr. Smythe shook his head decisively. ''The bond between the two of them was too strong. If we'd attempted to eradicate it completely, their subconsciences would have gone to war immediately, knowing something was missing.''
''So we took care of it,'' said Dr. King. ''They know each other, in fact they'd once been lovers. But Brian Harris' self-absorbed life-style has driven her away. So they each exist in the other's history. But we've put in mental triggers - they will never be able to...er, get together...again.''
The masked man nodded. ''Very good, doctors. I am quite pleased with you. Now...there's an individual by the name of Bond...
One year later
Diana Smythe stood in a department store window, trying to make head or tail of the window plan that one of her co-workers had designed before falling ill. A woman entered the window, short, elderly, with the charm of an elfish face.
''Hi, Diana.''
''Hi, Norma.'' Diana greeted her boss cheerfully.
Norma looked around, a smile on her face. ''Every time I get in one of these windows it's just like being on stage. It reminds me of the time I was an angel in the Christmas play in the third grade.''
Diana grinned. ''Were you a hit?''
''Not exactly. I whooped on one of the Wise Men. How's it going?''
''Fine. Unless I've got Marshall's plan upside down. In that case I'm in a lot of trouble.''
''How's he feeling?''
''Well, he's in the third day of the twenty-four flu.''
Norma shook her head, then gestured at the window. ''I do appreciate your helping out like this, Diana.''
''I'm glad to help.''
Howard, the copywriter for the advertising department, entered the window at this time. Tall, with a soft middle, and hair that would have looked like Albert Einstein's on a bad day, he carried a handful of white placards. ''Here they are, hot off the paint brush.''
''Oh, thank you, Howard,'' Norma told her copywriter. ''You didn't have to bring them down yourself.''
''Oh, anything to get out of that office. I'm having trouble writing the ad. Everything I write seems to be phony.''
''What's the ad for?'' queried Diana.
''Fake fur.''
Norma had been going through the signs. She held up one that read, in big, still-wet letters, DIANA SMTHE - YOU'RE NEEDED. ''Diana Smythe, you're needed.''
Diana Smythe felt a frisson of some kind of emotion she couldn't identify, before the memories in her head clicked smoothly together. Of course. Brian Harris. The emotion became one of irritation.
''How on earth did he find me?''
Norma's face had lit up with curiosity and the scent of a possible romance. ''Who found you? Who needs you? What does this sign mean?''
''It means the ghost of London past has come back to haunt me." Diana said resignedly.
''Well,'' commented Norma, ''its calling card's a family size. Well, come on, let's finish here and go down and risk lunch at the cafeteria.'' She turned and saw a man walking past the window, bearing another sign. ''Hey, are we being picketed?''
Howard caught a glimpse of the words on the sign. ''That's not a picket.''
''This is only the beginning, friends,'' said Diana Smythe. Memories were flooding back. Brian Harris...in love with her...but in love with himself more...always chasing after her...flattering but exhausting...yes...she remembered.
''So, whose this old friend?''
Diana glanced at Norma, reluctant to answer for she knew Norma's match-making instincts. But she said, ''Well, it's Brian Harris.''
''Brian Harris? The concert pianist?'' Norma said delightedly.
''The same.''
''The Brian Harris?'' commented Howard. ''He's a genius.''
Diana nodded. ''I'm sure he'd be the first to agree with you.''
An attractive young woman entered the window at this moment, carrying an envelope. ''Is there a Diana Smythe here? ''
''Oh, yes,'' said Norma helpfully. ''There she is.''
The woman handed an envelope to Diana. ''This is for you.''
''Not another one,'' Diana said heatedly. She tore up the envelope. ''Tell Brian enough is enough.''
Norma took the pieces Diana handed her. ''Enough,'' she said, handing the pieces to Howard, ''Is enough.'' finished Howard, handing the pieces to the woman.
''Who's Brian?'' said the woman in bewilderment. ''I'm from accounting. That was your overtime check.''
Diana smacked her forehead.
A couple of hours later, Diana entered her office, her eyes glancing over an individual seated in a chair face obscured by a newspaper. ''You're late,'' said a familiar voice, and once again Dina felt that frisson of emotion she could not identify, before the emotion settled into pleasure at viewing an old friend.
''I'm late?'' she queried.
Brian Harris put down the newspaper. ''You're nine years, seventeen minutes and thirty two seconds late.'' Harris gazed at Diana Smythe, and the conflicting emotions that he himself felt were not in evidence. He hadn't seen Diana Smythe in nine years - he knew this, but he was in love with her, he knew that, too.
''I do apologize.'' Diana said with a smile.
''You're forgiven.'' he told her, matching her smile.
''How are you?''
''I'm a delight. And you?''
''Charming as ever. How did you find me?''
Brian moved very close to her. ''When you left I put salt on your tail. You're not exactly inconspicuous. I went to London Airport and I said, 'Where did the tall girl go?' They, recognizing my impeccable taste, pointed due west.'' he reached into his pocket and brought out a small box. This is for you''
Diana's face glowed as she accepted the box. ''Oh, Brian, you should have.'' She opened the box, as Brian said lightly, ''It's nothing.'' And it was true - there was nothing in the box. Diana glanced at Brian questioningly.
'' I never lie.'' Brian said with a broad grin. He handed her a sheet of paper. ''Now, this was supposed to be in it. It's an invitation for dinner. You can fill in the name of the person you want to have it with. Will seven thirty be all right?''
Diana shook her head in amusement. ''Seven thirty will be fine, thank you.''
Brian grinned, turning away as he consulted his memo pad. ''I hope I can manage it.'' he murmured.
Norma entered the office and her eyes lit up as they fell on Brian Harris.
Diana introduced them and they exchanged how-do-you-do's. ''Norma is my boss,'' Diana amplified.
Brian ran his eyes up and down Norma's figure with flattering attention. ''You're the most intelligently constructed boss I've ever seen.''
'' Thank you. Are you in town for a visit or a concert?''
Brian looked shocked. ''Hasn't anyone told you?''
''No.''
Brian glanced between Diana - who got up to get him some coffee, and Norma. ''I'm playing with the New York Philharmonic tomorrow night at Lincoln Center.''
''Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know.''
Diana handed him a cup of coffee. ''Lincoln Center? Brian, that's marvelous.''
''Yes, I've progressed from simple pianist to internationally renowned artiste. That means that Brian Harris is spelt wrong in eight languages. My current favorite is Blarney Harris.'' He sipped his coffee.
''In Japan?'' asked Norma.
''No, in London.'' He put down the cup. '' I say, I wonder if you could come with Diana to the concert tomorrow night.''
Diana had sat down at her desk. '' I didn't know I was going.''
''Well, of course you're invited. I have influence. I can get you the very best seats at a reasonable price.'' He hesitated a beat for that to sink in, then grinned. '' No, you're my guests.''
''What about Norman?'' asked Diana.
''What do we want with a Norman?''
'' Norman is my husband.'' pointed out Norma.
''Oh, pity.'' Brian smiled at her.
''He'll be out of town tomorrow night.'' Norma said, very quickly.
'' Splendid.''
At this point Howard entered. Diana started to introduce him, but Brian interrupted with a conspiratorial grin at Howard. ''Oh, you don't have to introduce us. He's my conspirator. He carried the cry of my heart to you.''
''I didn't know you were the Brian Harris, then.''
''I am always the Brian Harris.''
''You know I don't think there's a record album of yours I don't have.''
Brian looked at him with closer attention. ''Oh, really?''
'' I particularly like that Rachmanoff piano concerto.''
''I'm inclined to agree with you.''
''It's...it's...what's the word I'm looking for?''
''Magnificent?'' suggested Brian. Diana smiled behind him as Howard snapped his fingers.
''Yes, that's it. You know, I wanted to come to your concert tomorrow night. Do you think there'll be tickets at this late date?''
''Be my guest.'' Brian said immediately. '' Join the ladies.''
''Oh, thank you, that's very kind of you.''
''And after a scintillating performance, and an encore of Rachmaninoff specially for you, we'll open a bottle of champagne in the dressing room.''
''Oh, I'd love to.''
The phone rang, and Diana picked it up. ''Hello? Yes, I'll tell him.'' She replaced the receiver. '' Your limousine is awaiting downstairs.''
''Oh, I shall have to desert you. The limousine awaits. I have to do some interviews.'' He pulled out his memorandum pad. ''I have to do some today. I have to do the Tonight Show today, and...that can't be right. I have to do the Today Show today.''
''No, no, no. They do tomorrow's Today Show tomorrow. Tomorrow's Tonight Show they do today.''
''I beg your pardon?''
''Today's Tonight Show they did yesterday.'' Howard gestured at Diana for her further help in explaining.
''It's very simple.'' Diana commented. '' You see they do the Tonight Show today for tomorrow But It's too late to do the Today show. They did that already this morning.''
''I think I'll be better off with Dick Cavett.'' Brian replaced his memo pad in his vest pocket and bestowed smiles on Norma and Howard. '' It's very nice meeting you. Goodbye.'' He bent over Diana and gazed at her deeply. ''See you tonight, which is today. Perhaps we'll extend it, to tomorrow. Goodbye.''
Diana smiled up at him. ''Goodbye.''
Brian exited the room, and Norma and Howard turned towards her.
''Oh, Diana, he's wonderful.'' exclaimed Norma.
''He's a great guy.'' agreed Howard.
''Yes,'' said Diana, pensively, ''he is.''
Diana looked at herself very briefly in the mirror. She did not spend a great deal of time on her looks as a rule. But she wanted to look extremely nice for Brian tonight...at that point the door rang. She went out to answer it. Brian was there.
''Brian, you're early,'' Brian informed her. ''I haven't finished dressing yet. Help to yourself to a drink. I'll be right with you.''
He turned to the right and found himself at her wet bar. Diana shook her head admiringly. ''You've still got it. Your sense of where the bar is located is still 100 proof.''
'' How about you? Can I offer you a drink?''
''Yes.''
''The usual?''
''Yes. ''
For some reason, Brian said, ''Extra dry martini, straight up with a twist.''
Diana's lips twitched. ''Tall scotch.''
''And water.''
''Soda.'' corrected Diana.
''Of course!'' Brian said, snapping his fingers. '' The usual! Tall, scotch and soda.'' Why had he done that, he wondered. He knew what Diana liked to drink. He also knew that she didn't like him referring to all the women that he had had, at one time or another in his life.
Brian glanced around the room, with its many knick knacks and decorations, including a telescope by a huge plate glass window. '' I love the drama of this room, you know. It's very similar to Roger's flat in London.''
''Yes.'' said Diana. '' The furniture is the same including the art collection.''
''There's only one jarring note. That picture over there.''
''Which one?''
''The atrocious one. It's the only time I've ever really disagreed with Roger's taste. Who's the artist?''
''Me.'' pointed out Diana.
''Oh, I'm sorry.'' said Brian, going back to mixing the drinks.
''There's no need to apologize.''
''No,'' commented Brian candidly, ''I'm sorry it's atrocious.''
He handed her a drink. ''There's your scotch and water.''
'' Soda.'' said Diana.
''Of course.'' Brian pulled back his left hand and handed her the drink in his right. ''Scotch and soda. Now. What shall we drink to?'' he moved closer to her. ''Exciting, unusual. I guess we'd better drink to us.'' The two of them sat down, Diana on the divan and Brian on a chair. ''The past. The two of us just talking, relaxing, and exchanging ideas...''
''Brian. I seem to remember our past was a quite frantic series of interruptions..''
Brian hadn't been paying attention. He interrupted. ''By the way, how are you getting on in America. Are you getting acclimatized?''
''Well, I'm getting there. I know longer call the subway the tube. I say X, Y and Zee instead of X, Y Zed. And I'm learning to tell my dates 'why don't you give me a call' instead of 'why don't you knock me up.'''
Brian laughed heartily. ''Extraordinary language.''
''You should hear what they say about ours.''
Brian sipped his drink, gazing at the sweep of Diana's auburn hair. ''Do you know,'' he said soberly, ''there's not been a moment I haven't thought about you.''
''And I've read about you.'' Diana said quietly.
''And thought about me?'' Brian asked, equally quietly.
Diana shrugged. '' Inevitably one reads, one thinks.''
''Yes. Well, you don't need to believe every scurrilous thing you read. In particular that incredible thing..''
Diana waved a hand at him. ''No, no, no. I've never read that one.''
''Good.'' Brian got up and joined her on the divan. ''I bet you don't know where I was last week. Waterford.''
''Waterford.'' said Diana, somewhat blankly.
''Yeah. You remember that absolutely mad day. Ha ha. The canoe. We left our clothes on the shore, we had to buy 'em back again from those children that came by...''
Diana joined in his laughter but said, ''The part I remember best about that particular day...''
''Yes, what?''
''Is my not being there.''
Brian blinked. ''It wasn't you?'' He recovered smoothly. ''It should have been. Do you know, I've often wish I hadn't been such an idiot and walked out on you.''
''I walked out on you.''
''Right. I wish you hadn't been such an idiot.''
The telephone rang. Diana picked up the receiver. ''Hello. Yes, he's here. It's for you.'' she handed the receiver to Brian.
''Ah.''
''You gave out my number?'' Diana asked, slightly annoyed.
''I knew you wouldn't mind. I gave it to the hotel in case there was a call. Yes? Hong Kong? Yes, I'll accept the charges. He began speaking, in a really atrocious Chinese accent. Dem guy ganor. Desoto desonto. Jee see san lie. Dozo.'' He hung up the phone. ''My shirt maker.''
Diana laughed. ''Brian, you are incorrigible.''
The phone rang again. ''That's probably for me.'' Brian commented.
''Has it occurred to you that someone may wish to call me at my apartment on my phone. Hello?'' She listened very briefly, then held the receiver out to Brian.
''Hello. Yes, this is he. Ohh, Barbara. It's Barbara Walters. That's very kind of you, Barbara.'' Another phone rang. ''Will you get that please, darling?''
''Certainly,'' said Diana with resignation.
Brian returned his attention to the receiver in his hand. ''I'm very glad. I'm delighted that you want me to play the piano, but, I honestly don't think I can do it at six am. I mean, my fingers don't even start to lift until one.''
''It's your manager.'' Diana called to him.
Brian covered the receiver. ''Oh, what's he want?''
''He wants to know if you're interested in Denver.''
''Well, only if Denver's interested in me''.
''Only if Denver's interested in him.'' Diana told her receiver and hung up.
Brian was still on his call to Barbara Walters. ''Look, I'm awfully sorry, Barbara, but even for you it is too early. Perhaps when it's a little later. Bye.''
The doorbell rang.
''Don't tell me you gave out my address as well.'' Diana commented.
''My tailor, darling.''
Brian opened the door to a short man of obvious Italian extraction, with brilliantined hair and a moustache. ''Good day.'' He entered, carrying a gleaming black set of tails.
''Ah, Mr. Spinelli. Come in, come in.''
''Excuse me. I have brought your tails.''
''Wonderful.''
''And I am sure you will find them exactly to your taste. But, more importantly, to mine.'' He helped Brian slip on the jacket.
''Lovely. They're really perfect. ''
''Of course, it's a Spinelli.''
Diana sighed. Clearly Spinelli and Brian Harris had gone to the same school of ego-mania.
''Of course.'' commented Brian. ''But there is just one thing I have to do. This is important.'' He moved in front of Diana's coffee table, which would serve as a piano bench in a pinch. He stood quietly for a second, eyes straight ahead as if looking at an imaginary audience, then he brought his hands down to flip his tails out of the way as he sat down on the bench.
''The left one doesn't flip correctly.'' he reported.
''Impossible.'' snapped Spinelli.
''No, no, no.'' said Brian in all seriousness and concern. ''See for yourself.'' He repeated the flip and once more the left one didn't flip correctly. ''Mr. Spinelli. A gracefully flipped tail makes all the difference in the appearance to the piano player. Now, you'll just have to add more flip.''
The short man glared up at him. ''Mr. Harris. I have given those tails the precise degree of flip for performing at Lincoln Center. If you were performing at Carnegie Hall I would tend to agree with you, but for Lincoln Center, they're perfect.''
Brian loomed over the tailor. ''Mr. Spinelli. I'm the one who's going to be doing the playing, and I'm the one, therefore, who's going to be doing the flipping. And I demand more flip.''
''One does not demand of Spinelli! For five generations the name Spinelli has been synonymous with excellence in design, workmanship, detail and flip.''
''Mr. Spinelli. When I say more flip I want more flip!''
''Mr. Harris. I won't touch them!''
''I insist!''
''I refuse!''
''You won't get paid!''
Spinelli blinked. ''You want flip you'll get flip.'' He seized the tails. ''Good day, Mr. Harris.'' He looked at Diana. ''Mrs... Miss, . Lady..'' he bowed and left to Diana's amused ''Goodbye.''
'' Wasn't I right?'' Brian appealed to her.
''Of course. There's nothing worse than a limp flip.''
The doorbell rang.
''I'm terribly sorry, my darling, but, I've invited a few reporters in for an impromptu press conference.''
'' How many?'' demanded Diana, her hand on the door.
..Well, Maybe ten. Perhaps twenty. I do hope you don't mind but I do think it's going to delay our dinner just a little.''
''Yes,'' said Diana coldly. ''Possibly another ten years.'' She opened the door and watched the reporters - men and women, enter. Brian greeted them with all the aplomb in the world.
''Come in, gentlemen, and ladies. Oh, it's delightful to see you all.''
Diana ungritted her teeth. Brian obviously wanted her to act as his hostess, she would act as his hostess. She went into the kitchen, removed a few blocks of cheese and her cheese slicer, and got to work on canapes.
Diana Smythe spent a restless night. Every time she closed her eyes Brian Harris' face rose in front of her eyes...but he wasn't playing the piano...instead he was smiling and grinning and flirting with a succession of women and then turning and staring at her with a lifted lip as if mocking her...her anger was growing and growing...
The next morning Diana had forgotten her dreams, but the feelings of irritation with Brian Harris remained. She was almost ready to leave for work when the doorbell rang. ''Good morning.'' said Brian with a smile. He carried a tray on which there were silver chafing dishes, and there was a paper under his arm.
''Good morning.'' Diana said cheerfully.
''Breakfast is served. Your morning paper.''
Diana took the paper from underneath his arm and glanced at the label on it. ''Jones. Apartment 11A.''
''We can put it back before they get up. They'll never miss it.''
'' I'm afraid they will. They've just bought a puppy.''
''Oh.'' said Brian unrepentantly. He lifted the covers off the chafing dishes.
''Brian. I find that deeply moving. But you do seem to have forgotten I don't eat breakfast.''
''But I cleaned and caught these kippers for you.''
''Besides, I have to go to work.''
''Work. You're not going to go to work today, are you?''
''Of course.''
''But I thought we'd spend it together. Look, all I've got is a press conference this morning, a radio interview over lunch, then I've got a few publicity stills at two, and then we can go to the Lincoln Center and you can listen to me practice for an hour or two. Won't it be wonderful?''
''Brian, I have to work.''
Brian took hold of her hand. ''Oh, but I wanted you with me.''
''I'm sorry.''
''Why don't you phone in and tell them a little white lie.''
Diana was actually tempted, but then she thought better of it. ''No, no, no, I can't do that.''
Brian was getting irritated. ''What possible difference can it make if you don't go to work today. I mean, it's not really all that important, is it?''
That was a mistake. Diana's voice grew icy. '' I beg your pardon. My work may not be as glamorous as yours, and I may not receive an ovation for it, but my job is just as important to me as your job is to you.''
Brian was shocked. ''Being a concert pianist is not a job!''
''Well, being a fashion illustrator is. And I have certain responsibilities and I can't just walk out on them.''
Brian caught up her other hand, but Diana drew away from the warmth of his touch. ''Oh, darling, what happened to the Diana Smythe who was full of life? A free spirit. You did everything for the moment. All you want to do is go to work in a bloody shop.''
Diana maintained her iciness. ''That is called making a living, Brian.''
'' Well, you've certainly changed.''
''Unfortunately you haven't. You're still totally preoccupied with yourself.''
''Now, look,'' Brian raised his voice, ''Diana, all I want you to do is to take the day off.''
''You're still as understanding and flexible as after.''
''Darling. Dammit! You're being childish and immature.''
''You haven't changed a bit. You still like to push people around! But you are not pushing me!''
''All right! All right!'' He sat down, pouting. '' I'll go to Lincoln Center and spend the day alone! With my piano.''
Diana glared at him. In clipped tones she said, ''I'd tell you what to do with your piano. But it's a physical impossibility.'' She closed the door, with herself on the other side of it.
'' I'm an artist.'' Brian Harris snapped. '' I can do anything with a piano.''
Diana was back in the department store window, putting in the final touches. Norma entered. ''Hi, Diana.''
''Hi, Norma.''
''Well?''
Diana walked away from her, busily arranging the tilt of the hats on the mannequins. ''Well, what?''
''Well, how is Brian?''
''Oh, he's fine.'' Diana said uninterestedly.
''Diana, you meet a man you haven't seen in ten years. A man you obviously knew...very well. And all you can say is fine?''
Diana was getting tired of her friend's matchmaking. ''Norma, fine is fine with me.''
''Has he changed?''
''No, he's still as charming and stubborn and handsome and pigheaded as he always was.''
''Half of him sounds delicious.''
Diana smiled. ''One minute I adore him and the next minute I'd like to throttle him.''
''Well, you'd better make up your mind right away because look whose here.'' She indicated the man outside the window - Brian Harris bearing a bunch of roses. Norma gestured him to come inside.
''Oh, this is ridiculous.'' Diana said,
''He brought you flowers.''
''Mm, he's very big on long-stemmed apologies. At times, my flat in London looked like a greenhouse.''
At this point Brian arrived. ''Hello.'' he greeted Norma. He handed her one the roses, which she thanked him for, and gave the rest of them to Diana.
'' Thank you.'' she told him sincerely, sniffing at them delicately.
Norma glanced between the two of them, so obviously in love, and said, ''Well, I guess I'd better go do whatever it is ...I'd better go do.''
'' Don't forget this evening.'' Brian told her. '' My dressing room after the concert.''
''Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world.''
Brian watched her leave and then turned to Diana. He took a deep breath. ''Um. I realize that the things I said this morning were unnecessary, harsh, and I hate to say it, but childish.''
''I think that summed it up rather nicely.'' Diana greed.
''I'm sure you do.'' Brian said with a smile. '' I realize I'm just a pain in the neck!''
''I was thinking a bit lower.''
Brian moved closer to her. ''Do you know what I did this morning? I thought and stared at the piano. I couldn't even play chopsticks. All I was thinking about was our argument. Look, darling,'' his voice softened, ''you know I get ..I get nervous before a concert. I admit I'm self-centered and sometimes I speak before I think, but the fact is I'm sorry.''
Diana stared at him in surprise. ''Brian, do you know what you've just done?''
''No?''
''You have just apologized.''
Brian looked just as surprised. ''I did, didn't I?''
''It's a first.'' This was true, Diana remembered. When she was angry at him in the past, he'd always given her flowers...but he'd never actually said he was sorry...
''Don't let it get around.'' Brian said in a conspiratorial whisper. '' It could ruin my image.'' He moved yet closer and their was a tinge of yearning in his voice as he said, ''You are coming to the concert tonight, aren't you?''
''Of course.'' Diana said, surprised that he doubted it.
''And dinner afterward. Just the two of us?''
''I'd love it.''
''Forgiven?'' asked Brian, moving closer.
''Forgiven.''
''Friends?'' yet closer.
''Friends.''
They stared into each other's eyes, and then Brian bent and closed his lips very gently over Diana's. They looked at each other, deep into each other's eyes, but the spell was broken by the sound of clapping. They looked up to see a crowd of people in front of the window, delighted with the show.
That night, Brian Harris entered his dressing room, followed by his manager. Brian's face was covered with a sheen of sweat and his tails hung limply.
'' A disaster.'' Brian announced.
''Mr. Harris, everyone is entitled to an off night. I would certainly not call it a disaster.''
''In my entire career I've never received as bad notices as tomorrow's.''
''So you had a little problem with your Beethoven. The rest of your performance was brilliant.''
Brian glared at him. ''What do you mean? They walked out. I wish I'd been with them.''
''They gave you six curtain calls.''
''Three. If Beethoven had not been deaf, he'd be turning in his grave.''
''Do you wish to see anybody?''
''No, they want their money back.''
''You know, you'd feel better if you get out of those tails and into something more comfortable.''
''Yes, into a 747, jumbo, back to London, dear, rainy old London.''
''And don't be so harsh with yourself. And don't talk down. Be affirmative.''
''You know, John. You're quite right. Forgive me, Ludwig,'' he said this to a picture of Ludwig van Beethoven that hung on the wall. He reached into a drawer, brought out a bottle, and entered the inner, changing room.
There was a knock and John opened the door to Norma and Howard.
''Won't you come in?''
'' Thank you.'' they said, and entered.
Howard said happily, ''Hey, he's not here.''
''He'll be with you in a moment.''
''Oh.'' said Howard, less happily.
''Have a seat,'' said John, gesturing. ''Excuse me,'' and he went out of the room.
''We should have waited for Diana.'' Howard said nervously.
''She's talking to friends.''
''We made a big mistake coming here.''
''To the dressing room?''
''To the concert.''
''I don't know what to say to him.'' Norma said worriedly. ''I can't lie. He'll see right through me.''
''Do you think we can get away with just, 'good night?' What happened?'' He just didn't play well tonight.''
Brian re-entered the room, wearing a dressing gown, his hair plastered down from the shower he'd just taken.
''Howard, Norma.'' Brian greeted them pleasantly. ''How good of you to drop by.''
''We simply had to.'' Norma said awkwardly.
''How could we leave without telling you that...''' Howard stuttered to a halt.
Brian looked at them, vaguely amused. ''Yes?''
''Great..great, the seats were just great.'' said Norma quickly.
''Perfect.'' agreed Howard.
''And soft.'' added Norma.
''Soft, soft.'' agreed Howard.
''Did you enjoy the concert?'' asked Brian.
Norma blinked. ''Enjoy is not the word. 'I can't remember another night like this in my life.''
'' Oh, me too'' agreed Howard. ''I'll be talking about this for weeks.''
''Yes.'' said Norma quickly. ''I don't know anybody who could have done what you did...the way you did it tonight. Well, I suppose we really ought to leave you alone because I'm sure you have a lot of people waiting...'' she glanced around but of course there was no one else in the room, ''to talk...to you.''
''Aren't you going to stay and have some champagne?''
''No, thanks very much.''
''We've to get up very early in the morning.'' said Howard quickly. ''You know.''
''Oh, I understand.'' Brian said. ''Well next time I come back we'll have to do it again.''
''Why?'' asked Howard.
''They've asked me back in three months time.''
''Really?'' said Norma. She recovered quickly. ''That is simply marvelous. We'll see you then. Goodnight. Goodnight, and thanks again for anything.''
Howard peered around the door. ''And, once again I just have to say...'' and he closed the door.
John entered with Brian's tails. ''Do you want these pressed?''
''No.'' said Brian irritably. ''Burned.''
John sighed and opened the door into the hallway. He stepped back to allow Diana Smythe to enter the room, and closed it behind him.
''Forgive me, Brian,'' Diana told him, '' but I got into a conversation with some rather long-winded friends. They really enjoyed the concert.''
''Then they must have missed it.'' Brian snapped. ''The one I was at was dismal.''
'' Brian.'' Diana said sympathetically.
''No. Intellectually I know that I perform poorly on occasions. But, I can't stand what happened tonight, darling, I hate myself. '' He held up his hands. ''I'm divorcing all ten fingers.''
''Brian.'' Diana said again. ''You had moments of brilliance.''
''You're remembering the past.'' Brian said bitterly. ''You of all people should know that I did not perform well.''
They sat down on the divan in the dressing room. ''Now, listen.'' said Diana seriously. ''Your Chopin was beautifully performed. And you're Mozart was excellent.''
''What did you think of my Beethoven?'' Brian demanded.
''Your Beethoven?'' Diana stalled.
''I want the truth.''
''I was quite moved.''
''Yes, I saw you squirming. I was atrocious! I decimated Beethoven!''
''Those are your words, not mine.''
''Well, I want to hear your words.''
''Well, you played with conviction and...''
'' The truth.''
''Well, actually I was disappointed.
Brian stared at her, jarred out of his own self-loathing. ''Disappointed?'' he said in a dangerously low tone.
'' Mmm. I simply don't think you played as well as you can.''
''You don't?''
''No.'' Diana moved away from him.
Brian stood up and said very coldly, ''May I ask what qualifies you for such an evaluation?''
Diana stared at him. ''Well, it's an opinion and I'm not without some musical knowledge. I did study music in school.''
''An hour a week,'' snapped Brian, ''of music appreciation at a Buckinghamshire boarding school does not entitle you to set yourself up as a music critic.''
''You asked me to tell you what I thought.'' Diana defended herself.
Brian was angry - he was furious, and he didn't know why. But he couldn't stop himself. ''Well, you should think before you say what you thought.''
''But I thought...'' Diana too did not know why Brian was so angry - surely he was not one of those men who thought that their women should always give them unqualified praise when it was not deserved?
''You should think before you say what you're think you thought.'' snapped Brian.
Diana did not appreciate having her thoughts and ideas dismissed. She said very coldly, ''I think we should stop this before one of us says something we're totally sorry for.''
''One of us already has. I'm totally sorry for what you said. Good night.'' Brian picked up the bottle and went back into the other room.
Diana stared at the closed door for a long second. ''Good night, Brian.'' she said very quietly. ''And goodbye.'' She tightened her fur cloak around her shoulders and left the room.
That night Diana had the same dream. It was always the same. She stood alone, no props around her...while Brian stood surrounded by women, enjoying their company, always turning back to look at her and sneering at her...and she kept growing angrier and angrier...but sometimes she thought she saw a look in his eyes...he wasn't sneering at her so much as begging for her help...
Brian Harris did not sleep well that night either. He was alone in his hotel suite - which had a piano in a place of honor. He sat at the piano and tinkled the keys...but he didn't feel like playing Rachmaninoff or Chopin and he didn't feel like he knew how to play anything else, let alone chopsticks.
What had happened? He'd been on stage playing Chopin, brilliantly, as usual, and then he'd taken a side glance and seen Diana in her place of honor and the way she had looked...it seemed to have triggered something in him. And then while he'd been playing Beethoven he simply hadn't been able to remember the notes...or even how to play!
And then the way he'd acted towards Diana. When she'd come to his dressing room intent to cheer him up and he'd hounded her to tell him the truth and then he had berated her for doing so. He hadn't been able to stop himself...but why. And she'd left, of course. Diana wasn't one of those women who'd take a lot of guff and then sit and wait to take some more - she'd left and how was he going to get her back?
Brian held his head in his hands. Words echoed in his head, ''Diana, you're needed...you're needed...I need you.''
Diana Smythe sat in her chair, her eyes far away. She felt a sickly sweet feeling of loss and yearning...she was remembering Brian Harris...all the things she remembered about him...she was in love with him...yes she was, but she could not stand the way he treated her...
The doorbell rang. Diana stood up and took a deep breath. ''Don't let it be Brian,'' she thought.
It was Brian. He had his coat over one arm. ''Bum bum bum.'' he said, whipping the coat off his arm to reveal a magnum of champagne. '''I also do card tricks. Charming smiles. And apologies.'' Diana let him kiss her on the cheek.
She wanted to say many things, but it was like her brain was on autopilot. ''Brian. Why do you keep coming back?''
He stood looking at her, hands at his sides, defenseless. ''Probably because I love you.''
''Because you love me?'' Diana said with a tinge of disbelief in her voice.
''Well, is that so illegal in the United States?''
''But, Brian, you have no reason to love me.'' This was true, Diana thought. He was an internationally renowned pianist and monopolized the conversation and never listened to what she had to say...he was obsessed with her looks, that was all...
''You were born.'' Brian said quietly. ''That's reason enough.''
Diana actually laughed. ''I'm terribly sorry, Brian, but you said precisely that, one night in Cambridge 11 years ago.''
''Oh? Well, what's so terrible about being consistent? And what's so wrong about being loved?''
''Because,'' Diana said quietly, ''with you it's a conversational gambit.''
''I suppose you're going to say that I'm not capable of loving.''
''No, no, you are capable of loving, but it is yourself that you love.''
Brian stared at her. ''True.'' he said. He crossed over and sat down on the arm of her chair, and she leaned her head against his chest.
''But once you love one person you can love another.'' He took her hand. ''Darling, come with me. Look, I've got a concert tour, it's booked to the end of the year. All around the world. Now we'll travel, we'll laugh.'' He squeezed her shoulder. ''We'll be full-time lovers and part time sparring partners. You're marvelous when you're angry, and I'm marvelous when we make up. What do you think?''
Diana sat still for long seconds, warring within herself. She wanted to. More than anything else. But she did not want to be a sparring partner, even if it meant that they'd be making up every night. Was there no way to change hi? No, there could be no way.
Brian himself was thinking, ''Please, please say yes...I need you.''
Very quietly, Diana said, ''No.''
Brian didn't let any expression of despair show on his face. ''I want to ask you something else.''
'' Mh hm?''
''Are you still in the mood for dinner?''
Diana gazed up at him with a look that caused his heart to beat. ''I'm starved.''
Brian bent down and kissed her. He wanted to kiss her, hard, to take her in his arms, but he couldn't. Instead he stood up and said, '' Good. What have you got in the house?''
Diana laughed. ''I've half a can of artichoke hearts, some pickled gherkins and some fig newtons.''
''We'll go out.'' he turned. ''Darling. Diana. Thank you for being honest with me. I think we'd be better if we looked upon ourselves as two ships that passed in the night.''
Diana nodded. ''And count ourselves lucky that we didn't collide, and sink.'' She kissed him on the cheek.
Diana sat in her office, doodling on her sketch pad. Norma was there, sipping coffee. It was Monday, and another lovely day at work. A day to draw pictures and think of advertising copy.
Howard entered, cheerfully. ''Good morning.''
''Good morning, Howard.'' said Norma.
''How was your weekend.'' Diana queried.
''How could the weekend be with the kids fighting and the dogs yapping and Ethel complaining.''
''Why was Ethel complaining?'' demadned Norma.''
''Because I was away all weekend. How was yours.''
Diana smiled. ''It's the most relaxing Sunday I've had in weeks.''
Howard looked at her. ''What did you do Saturday?''
''I saw Brian off. Why do you think Sunday was so relaxing?''
A phone rang and Norma answered it. ''Hello. Oh, yes, just a minute please. Diana, it's for you. It's Brian calling from Denver.''
Diana picked up her extension. ''Hello, Brian.'' she said warmly. ''Marvelous to hear you. Yes, Brian, I would love to have breakfast with you. But don't you think the fact that you're two thousand miles away makes it a titch difficult?''
At that precise second two men clad in tuxedos appeared in the doorway. One of them carried a tray. ''Mrs. Smythe?'' asked the man in the lead.
''Sh. She's on long distance.'' Norma told him.
The man in the lead said, ''Excellent. Over there, Fred.'' The second man carried the tray in and put it down in front of Diana.
''Oh, Brian, you are deliciously mad.'' She took up the orange juice. ''Good morning, darling.''
Diana didn't eat breakfast, so she merely listened while Brian talked, telling her all about Denver and the people he was meeting. After he hung up, she went back to work.
It was time for lunch. Diana lifted the lid off the chafing dish on the tray, and then almost dropped it, as a sudden feeling of terror rushed over her. All that was on the tray was a single rose. Why in the world would she feel so horrified at the sight of it?
''Meine liebling, meine rose...'' she murmured to herself. And then stopped. Now why in the world had that phrase popped into her head. She didn't even know how to speak German...did she? But..it was a song, a song playing in her head.''
Diana leapt to her feet. ''I'm going out for lunch, Howard. See you in an hour.''
''Sure, Diana.''
Diana didn't wait for the elevators, she took off her high-heels and then headed down the stairs of the building two and three at a time. Finally outside, she put her high-heels back on and started walking rapidly, anywhere, as kaleidoscopic images flashed across her eyes. Men's faces, all kinds of men's faces, men that she didn't know but whom she knew meant danger to her. And then always there was Brian's face, smiling...wearing a bowler of all things, and then everything was all right again.
''I think I need to go into therapy,'' Diana told herself at last. ''Something is going on and I don't know what it is...does Brian have this much of a hold over me?''
Diana walked through the crowds of people that always infested a Manhattan side walk, until finally she came to Central Avenue, and she followed the path into the park. It wasn't much like walking through Hyde Park in London, but it was better than nothing.
As she walked, hearing the sounds of the birds and looking at the trees, she began to calm down. But that song, Meine liebling, meine rose, it wouldn't go out of her head. Suddenly, behind her, Diana heard the sound of hoofbeats. She turned to see a policeman on horseback. The horse was a magnificent beast, its head arched proudly, its hooves stepping high...a magnificent steed.
Steed...steed...a picture slipped sideways into Diana's mind. Brian's face, very close to hers, lips warm and inviting, herself pressing him away. ''You don't need to worry about that,'' came his voice. ''I've been to the vet and had myself fixed. You don't think I'd want the patter of little Steeds all about, do you?''
Steeds. Steed. Steed?
Something seemed to shatter in Diana's mind. She clutched at her head as she sank to the ground...''Steed, Steed, John Steed,'' echoed again and again in her head.
''Hey, lady? Hey, miss?'' came an urgent voice.
Diana opened her eyes to see a young black kid looking at her, his face alive with concern.
''Are you okay?'' he asked. ''You're holding onto that tree for dear life.''
Diana took a long, shaky breath. She smiled at the good samaritan, and as she started to get to his feet he helped her. ''I'm fine, thanks. Just a bit of a...well, a daymare, I guess you'd call it.''
''Uh, sure.'' said the kid. ''There was a cop who rode past here. You want me to go get him and take you to a doctor?''
''No, no, thanks, I'm fine. As a matter of fact, I'm perfect. Thanks for your concern.''
''Sure.'' he nodded at her, then ran off.
Diana took another deep breath, then turned and retraced her steps. She had to get back to her office. She had to make a phone call to a travel agent. She needed a ticket to Denver.
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