  But Dot was as good as her word, and as resourceful as Peggy and her friends had hoped she would be. The call came through on time, the information was complete and accurate. Peggy put down the phone, turned to the expectant faces of Amy, Greta, and May, and slowly sat down as if in a daze. “Wow!” she said quietly. “What is it?” the girls asked in chorus. “We’ve got our story,” Peggy said, “but I still don’t know exactly what to make of it.” “Well, for goodness’ sake, tell us!” Greta said impatiently. Peggy gathered her thoughts for a few seconds, drew a deep breath, and began. “Paula Andrews is the daughter of Stacy Blair and—” “Stacy Blair? The actress?” Amy gasped. “Yes,” Peggy said. “The one and only Stacy Blair. And her father is Dean Andrews, the producer and director.” “Wow is the word all right,” Greta said. “I knew she looked familiar,” Amy commented. “We all felt that we had seen her somewhere before. She looks like her mother. And no wonder she’s such a good actress.” “This answers a lot of questions,” Peggy said. “But it leaves a lot of questions, too. The big one is, with parents like that, why would Paula pretend to be an orphan? And why would she go so far with the pretense as to actually starve herself?” “I would say that’s a question only Paula can answer,” put in May Berriman, who had been silent until now. “And I think the best thing to do is to go directly to her, tell her what you know, and ask her to give you her full confidence. After all,” she added, “you have a right to know. She’s taking money and help from you girls on—well, on false pretenses. If you’re going to help her, at least you ought to know why.” “The money isn’t important, May,” Peggy replied. “But there are important reasons for knowing. For one thing, her parents must be terribly worried about her. And for another thing, she’s the leading lady in our play. I don’t know what kind of publicity—good or bad—would come of having her discovered once we open. I think Mal and Randy should know about this, so as to make their decisions.” The others agreed, knowing that it would be impossible for Paula to act in the play for long without being recognized. “I suppose it’s not important,” Amy said, “but I can’t help wondering how Dot found out all this in such a short time.” “She’s a smart gal,” Peggy answered. “She simply took her camera and bought a cheap autograph book and started walking around the streets in the Canyon Road area, pretending to be a movie-fan tourist. She struck up a conversation with a postman, and asked a lot of questions about who lived in the houses around her. Whenever she asked about a famous person’s house, she took a snapshot. When the postman saw she wasn’t going to actually disturb any of the people on his route, he let her walk with him, and he told her a lot about the people who lived in the area. That’s how she found out about Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, and about Paula. And she found out something else, too. Paula is supposed to be in Europe.” “In Europe?” Greta asked. “How does she know that?” “From the letters the postman delivers.” “You’re not making sense. How can he?” Amy complained. “That’s the peculiar part,” Peggy said, “and it’s what I meant when I said that there would be even more questions to answer. You see, Dot said that the postman told her he delivered letters from Paula, from different parts of Europe.” “But Paula has been right here all the time!” Amy cried. Peggy nodded slowly. “She’s been here for about three months that we know of for sure. And the postman said that she wrote to her parents regularly, at least once a week, until recently. He said that it’s been perhaps a month since they’ve had a letter, and that her parents seem pretty worried. Every so often they wait for the mail to come, and they ask him to look again, to be sure that they don’t have a letter from Paula.” After a moment’s silence, while they all puzzled about the meaning of this latest development, May Berriman spoke decisively. “It seems to me that every minute we waste discussing the possibilities is a minute of uncertainty and unhappiness for this girl’s parents—and for her, too. Peggy, I think you should go right to her this minute and get to the bottom of the affair immediately.” “Oh dear,” Peggy said unhappily. “I know you’re right, but I’ve been sort of trying to put it off. I just hate to be the one to tell her that we’ve been spying on her.” “I know how you feel, Peggy,” May Berriman said, managing to sound gentle and stern at the same time, “but after all, you—” “I know, May,” Peggy interrupted. “You don’t have to tell me. I started the whole thing, and it’s up to me to finish it. Besides, I’ve formed a closer friendship with Paula than any of the rest of you. You’re right. I’d better do it, and I’d better do it right away.” As she started from the room, Amy stood up to follow. “Peggy,” she called, “I’m coming, too.” “No, Amy,” Peggy said. “It’s good of you, but I think I’d better do it alone. It may be harder for me that way, but it will be easier for Paula. I’ll meet you all down at the theater as soon as I can get there.” With a distracted wave of her hand, she left. On the way to Paula’s apartment, she rehearsed several possible opening phrases, several tactful approaches to the problem of telling her friend that she knew her identity. Somehow, nothing seemed quite right, and when she finally stepped out of the little elevator and knocked on Paula’s door, her mind was blank. Paula greeted her with a smile. “Peggy! What a nice surprise! I was just thinking of calling you up. I thought we might be able to have dinner together before going down to the theater tonight.” “I’m glad I caught you before you went out,” Peggy said. “Paula. Sit down, will you? I—I want to talk to you. You see, this isn’t exactly a—well—a social visit, although it is a friendly one. I’m coming to you as a friend, to ask you to be honest with me.” “Honest? Why, Peggy, I....” Paula’s voice trailed off, and she became pale and still. “Yes, you know what I mean,” Peggy said. “It’s time to be honest about yourself—and honest with yourself. You can’t go on pretending to be what you’re not. I’m sorry, Paula, but I know all about you. I know who you are, and who your parents are, and I know that they think you’re in Europe. I’ve ... I’ve been snooping.” “Have you talked to them?” Paula asked in a quavery voice. “Do they know where I am?” “Nobody has talked to them,” Peggy assured her. “I think you ought to do that yourself.” “Thank goodness!” Paula breathed. “But why...?” “Why did I poke into your affairs?” Peggy supplied. “Because I was sure that you weren’t telling me the truth about yourself, and I was sure that your parents didn’t know where you were and that they were probably worried sick, whoever they were. I wanted to find out, so that I could help you. You must believe that. I didn’t do it out of personal curiosity, Paula, but just to help you.” “I believe that, Peggy,” Paula said. “But really, it wasn’t necessary. My parents think I’m all right. They believe I’m in Europe, and they get letters from me, and—” “No, they don’t,” Peggy interrupted. “They haven’t received a letter in almost a month.” “Oh, no!” Paula gasped. “I was afraid of that! But how do you know, if you haven’t spoken to them?” “Don’t bother about that now,” Peggy said. “I think the best thing is for you to start at the beginning and tell me the whole story. Then we can put the pieces together.” Paula nodded in silent agreement, then drew a deep breath and started. “My parents are wonderful people,” she began. “They’ve given me everything a girl could want, and I love them dearly. They’re both understanding and talented and charming and generous ... oh, all the things you want people to be! When I decided that I wanted to be an actress, they did everything they could to help me. I was sent to the best dramatic coaches and schools, introduced to all the people who would be good to know. They helped me get placed with the best repertory theater group in California, and when I started to get good parts, they saw to it that the leading critics came out to see me. I got wonderful notices, and I got a few movie offers, but—” “But what?” Peggy asked. “It sounds as if you had everything in the world!” “I did,” Paula answered. “Everything except self-confidence. I was never sure whether I was getting the good parts and the good reviews because I was me, or because I was my parents’ daughter. My mother is, well, very popular with all the show people in Hollywood, as well as being a famous actress. Nobody would ever do anything to hurt her. I was afraid I was being carried along because everybody wanted to be nice to her. And my father, too. He’s well-liked, and he’s also very—influential.” “I see,” Peggy said thoughtfully. “And you wanted to try your talent on your own. But why didn’t you explain that to your parents?” “They thought I was being foolish,” Paula said. “They told me that I should take whatever help I could get on my way to the stage, because once I got there, I would have to stand on my own feet anyway. Maybe they were right.” “They were,” Peggy said decisively. “And it seems to me that we had this conversation once before, and I told you the same thing. You have to be willing to be helped. I think that you believe it a little more now than you did before.” “I guess so,” Paula agreed. “But I certainly wasn’t convinced before. When I got the movie offers, I was afraid that I would be a failure. I wanted to be sure first that I could get a part and please an audience on my own merits. So I turned down the offers. I said that I wanted to complete my education first. I asked my parents to let me spend a year in Europe, so that I could learn a little more about people and the world. They agreed, on condition that I went with a friend. My friend Nancy Frome was planning to go abroad for a year anyway. She’s several years older than I, and my parents were satisfied to have me go with her.” “And you arranged with her that she would mail previously written letters to your parents to convince them that you were in Europe, right?” Peggy put in. “That’s right,” Paula said. “Nancy agreed to do that, and to mail me the letters my parents sent. That way, I could answer any specific questions and make my letters sound natural. I mailed my letters to my parents over to Nancy, and she posted them from Europe.” “But what went wrong?” Peggy asked. “How come you ran out of money, if your parents gave you enough for a year in Europe? And how come your friend stopped sending letters home?” “I don’t know, Peggy,” Paula said earnestly. “I’ve been worried to death about it. I haven’t heard from Nancy for almost a month. You see, that’s why I ran out of money. My parents naturally didn’t want me to carry too much cash with me, so they arranged to send regular monthly checks to me at the cities I was supposed to visit. As soon as the checks came to the hotel, Nancy would send them to me in New York, I would sign them and mail them back, and Nancy would cash them in Europe. That way, the bank markings on the backs of the checks wouldn’t be from New York, but from Paris, or Milan or Rome or wherever Nancy was. Then Nancy would send me a money order. The whole process only took about a week by air mail, and it worked fine for a while.” “It sounds complicated, but it makes sense,” Peggy said. “That is, as much sense as it could make, once you had decided to do a foolish thing. But what went wrong?” “I don’t know,” Paula repeated miserably. “All of a sudden the money stopped coming, and I didn’t get any letters from Nancy. At that point, I didn’t know what to do. I’m convinced that Nancy either must have had an accident, or else she’s ill, because I know that I can trust her. She must be unable to send mail. I’m scared! I would have quit the show and gone to Europe to find out, but by then I didn’t have any money left. My father’s London office probably could locate her right away, but I didn’t want to call my parents and tell them, because then no good at all would have come of the whole affair. I just kept hoping each day that I’d hear from Nancy. And meanwhile, opening night was coming closer, and I thought that if I could just hold out until then—and until I saw the notices in the papers—I could tell my parents, and maybe they’d understand.” “Well, maybe so,” Peggy said, “but, to tell you the truth, Paula, I doubt it. They’ll surely understand your desire to prove yourself, but I can’t imagine that they’ll appreciate the way you chose to do it.” Paula nodded, looking unhappier every minute. “What do you think I ought to do, Peggy?” “I think you ought to call them right now and tell them you’re all right. Then you can explain what you’ve done, and see what they say.” “No! No, Peggy! I know you’re right, but I also know what they’d do! They would come right to New York, and they’re unable to travel anywhere without being recognized and followed by reporters and photographers. And once the newspapers get hold of a story like this, it’ll be all over the place, and when opening night is over, I’ll still not know whether I was good or not—or if I made a splash because of my name and my publicity.” “But you can’t keep them worrying any longer!” Peggy exclaimed. “It’s not much longer, Peggy,” Paula pleaded. “We open in three days—just three more days! Then I’ll tell them!” “I think you’re doing the wrong thing,” Peggy said, “but I suppose there’s no way I can force you to do otherwise. Of course ... I can always call them myself, but I’d rather you did it.” “Please, Peggy! Promise me you won’t do that!” Paula begged. “I ... I’ll think it over,” Peggy said. “I don’t want to make any promises before I think.” Both girls sat in unhappy silence for what seemed like a long time. “Paula,” Peggy began after a while, “I hope you’ll forgive me for—” “Of course,” Paula interrupted. “There’s nothing to forgive. I know you were doing it for my own good. And if it hadn’t been for you—” Peggy cut her off with an impatient nod. “Please don’t thank me for that,” she said. “As long as you know I was just trying to help. And all I want to know now is that we can keep on being friends.” “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Paula said solemnly, “and I don’t know why you even want to have anything to do with someone who’s acted as selfishly and inconsiderately as I have.” “It’s because I want to meet your famous parents!” Peggy said, laughing. For a moment Paula was taken aback, then she too burst out laughing. The surface strain of the meeting was broken, and in a much lighter mood, the two girls left the apartment for dinner and the night’s rehearsal. But Peggy knew that it was only the surface that was smooth. Underneath, she still felt the strain of the last hour—of the last weeks. She had been asked to give her promise to Paula, and she had not done so. The decision was still to be made, and until it was, Peggy knew that she would not have a moment’s peace. |
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