Cover-Up Story by Marian Babson Page A

into those searching eyes, you’re afraid of giving the impression that you return whatever dubious sentiments are being yodelled at you. And singers always feel that they’re doing you such a big favour by singing to you. I once had a girlfriend who was a music student and, to my dying day, will remember the exhibition she made of me by choosing to serenade me – complete with meaningful gaze into my eyes – on a crowded escalator at Piccadilly Circus tube station. She never was able to figure out what ended the romance so abruptly, but it was the expressions on the faces of those gliding past us on the downward side of the escalator. Horrified to a man, and amused to a woman, they seemed to be saying, ‘Good lord, can’t the chap control that girl – and in public too!’
    As for me then, so for Penny now, there was no escape. The Perkins & Tate funds wouldn’t run to a rise in salary, but I determined to give her a bonus and get it back on the Client’s bill later. This was above and beyond the call of duty.
    The flashbulbs continued popping all the way through the song, but Penny was a nice sensible girl and kept a determined smile fixed on her face. I could see from her eyes, though, that she had just resigned from the Black Bart Fan Club. As I said, she was a nice sensible girl.
    Finishing the song, the Client squeezed Penny to him again, but she turned her head at the last moment to smile at the camera, so he had to, as well. Sam, unable to get a purchase on any shreds of fingernails on either hand now, had compromised by quietly beginning to shred his handkerchief into tatters.
    I moved forward to the rescue, and heard the Client say, ‘How’s about you and me going out for a quiet drink?’
    â€˜No, really,’ Penny gasped. ‘I have to go home and do my homework.’ As an attempt to discourage him by reference to her youth, it was a failure. Black Bart chuckled insinuatingly.
    â€˜Why don’t you just go get your homework and bring it back here, then? I jest love helping kiddies with their homework. I got a real talent for it.’
    At least he kept his voice low. The Press were leaving, and Penny’s schoolmates too far away to hear. Sam had been out of earshot, too, but he charged forward nervously, as though he knew what was going on. I decided it was time to speak to Sam again.
    â€˜Come on, Bart.’ Sam pulled him away from Penny. ‘It’s time to start for the theatre. You want to check those lighting cues again, and I don’t think the amplifier sounded so good at last night’s performance. We ought to –’
    â€˜Leave me alone!’ Bart shrugged Sam off. ‘Leave us alone.’ He started for Penny again, but I stepped in front of him.
    â€˜We’d like a few more pictures of you, Bart,’ I said. ‘You and the Cousins – with Lou-Ann.’ I signalled Gerry forward with the camera.
    Bart hesitated and, while he was unsure, I nudged him farther away from Penny. She wasted no time in quietly heading for the exit, leaving her friends to trail after her. Bart put out his hand, as though to try to stop her, but the Cousins and Lou-Ann closed in on us and the moment of danger was past.
    â€˜You damned fool,’ Sam snarled softly at me. ‘I thought you said you were having your secretary present the award. What the hell went wrong?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ I said. ‘Penny is my secretary.’
    â€˜Why, you dawg!’ The Client whirled on me, giving me a conspiratorial slap on the back. ‘They’s more to you than I suspected. Who’d’a’ thought it?’ He guffawed loudly.
    â€˜Just get over there and pose.’ Sam shoved him into the corner. ‘And shut up!’
    Still snuffling with laughter, Black Bart let himself be angled into position while Gerry took half a dozen shots. Sam supervised the session, then dismissed the Troupe and turned to