Page 27 of A Snowfall of Silver

I take a quick step back. “I’d better go and see if Nora’s up,” I say, and I hurry down the corridor, only now realizing with dismay that I am also moving further away from the kitchen and the delicious food smells.

I stick my head in the sitting room. The only person in there is Russ, sprawled out on one of the sofas, wearing a pair of dark glasses despite the gloominess of the room. I wrinkle my nose. The curtains are pulled closed and the air smells musty. There are empty bottles everywhere.

“Ah, Freya, my love,” he says, pulling the glasses down his nose and looking at me over the top. His eyes are slightly red, and he hasn’t shaved.

“You look thoroughly seedy,” I tell him.

“Too much gin,” Russ agrees wearily, his head lolling back against the cushions. “Come in here and keep me company for a moment. The others are all running around in a flap over Daphne.”

I step cautiously into the room. “Shouldn’t I be running around in a flap over Daphne?”

“What in the world are you going to do about her? Got a secret medical degree I don’t know about?”

“I need to find Nora—”

“Nora has still not appeared after last night’s festivities. And incidentally neither has that delicious brunette she was with, what’s her name – Sandra or Sarah or Sally or something.”

“Gosh,” I manage, dropping into the seat across from him. I suppose I’m really seeing the world now.

Russ chuckles indulgently. “What a lovely, naive thing you are, Freya,” he says.

“It’s difficult not to be naive when nothing has ever happened to you,” I say briskly. “And I may not have read The Well of Loneliness, but I have heard about it – we do get the papers, you know, even in darkest Cornwall. I think Nora’s business is Nora’s business, just like anyone else’s and I’m happy that she’s … having a nice time.”

Russ grins at this slightly confused speech. “But I like your naivety, Freya. I find it deeply charming.”

“Don’t get too attached to it,” I say. “I don’t imagine it will last long while I’m hanging about with you lot. I’m sure Nora’s not the only one who spent the night with someone else.” I treat him to a very level gaze.

He chuckles, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. “A gentleman never tells.” His eyes twinkle. “And, darling, if you’d ever like to learn a little cynicism, you know just where to turn.”

I eye him thoughtfully. I know that Russ is not a sincere person – he would flirt with a potted plant if it wore a skirt. But when he’s not trying so hard to be devastating, when he’s making fun of himself or really laughing, there’s something very appealing about him. I remember what Kit said to me about being open to all sorts of different experiences. And Russ is very good-looking. In fact, if I look at him hard enough, I can make my heart beat a little faster – surely a sign of infatuation. Perhaps we could have the kind of passionate affair people have onstage.

“You’re making me feel nervous,” he says, looking at me uneasily. “May I ask why you are examining me like a prize-winning pig at the country fair?”

“When have you ever been to a country fair?” I ask.

He waves a hand airily. “One doesn’t have to go to a country fair to know precisely what a country fair is.”

“Nonsense,” I murmur, but my mind is already on other things, particularly that little scene just now in the hallway. “Listen, there’s something I want to ask you. Are Kit and Viola … you know…”

“At it again, are they?” Russ sighs. “She does seem to dig her claws in. Mind you, I thought she had moved on to pastures new and a producer with deep pockets. Were they off together last night? I noticed she did one of her disappearing acts.”

“I thought there was something between you and Viola.”

He makes a horrified, spluttering sound. “My god, no,” he says vehemently. “I mean, she’s nice to look at, but a complete harpy. And,” he adds, with surprising self-awareness, “we couldn’t both be the centre of attention all the time.”

“I thought it was one of those passionate, sparky, enemies to lovers-type things.”

Russ shakes his head. “Not everything is a play, darling. Sometimes people just don’t get on.”

I laugh at that, though my mind is still reeling at the idea of Viola and Kit as a couple. I don’t like the idea of it one bit, though I’m not exactly sure why.

Perhaps it’s that, yet again, I’m being left out. It seems that there are plenty of romantic entanglements already taking shape on this tour. My gaze flickers once more to Russ.

He yawns. “Yet again, I feel like a prize pig,” he says. “What exactly does that look mean?”

“I was assessing you for romantic potential,” I say, deciding not to be coy about it.

Russ looks delighted. “Oh, were you now?” he says, his voice a self-satisfied purr. “Do let me know what you discover.”