“It isn’t that I don’t wish Alison good luck,” she cried softly, “but at least he could have seen both of us in the play. He would probably have picked Alison anyway, because she’s good movie material. But if he had only seen my work—it would have been something to take back to New York with me.”
And on top of that she had missed the opportunity to play Evelyn at the peak of her feeling about the part. Would she be able to do it at all tomorrow night? She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed until she was too exhausted to cry any more. Then, blessedly, sleep came.
Alison was gone by the time Peggy awoke the next morning. It seemed unbelievable that she had managed to assemble her things and pack in such a short time, but her little room was as stark and bare as if no one had been in it all summer.
The cast didn’t attempt to disguise their disapproval of Alison’s hasty exit. “That’s typical of anybody so career-minded,” sniffed Danny Dunn. “No gratitude. Alison doesn’t have the least conception of anyone’s problems except her own.”
“Thank goodness we have June Tilson to take her place,” Rita echoed. “I don’t know what Chuck and Richard would have done.”
By evening Peggy was so exhausted that she almost didn’t care how the play went. She was tired of questioning looks and concern. Tired of thinking about Evelyn. She put on her make-up and dressed for her entrance, as unconcerned as if she were simply going out to dinner. She watched the other actors begin the play and waited for her cue with such a lack of emotion that she wondered for a moment if she could possibly be coming down with a cold or a fever. She simply didn’t care. Her cue came up, and marshaling as much energy as possible under the circumstances, Peggy walked on stage.
For the two hours that she played Evelyn, Peggy worked with a most peculiar sensation. She felt as though she were standing beside herself, looking on. She watched Evelyn, heard Evelyn, moved her around like a puppet, with an objective, detached viewpoint completely new to her. She felt nothing whatsoever inside.
After the play Peggy took her solo curtain call and received the most tremendous ovation she had ever heard in the theater. She bowed and smiled, wondering what all the shouting was about, and was utterly astonished to see Chuck come to her with real tears in his eyes.
“That was one of the most beautiful performances I have ever seen in my life,” he said, looking at her with something like awe. “I won’t even ask you what happened. It was too wonderful to spoil by trying to analyze it!”
Ford Birmingham came back to congratulate her, too. “I haven’t yet written my review, Peggy, because I heard what happened last night. I saw both of you play it. Alison was awfully good, but I haven’t seen a job like yours in years! I’m truly grateful for having had the opportunity to see you!”