Tangled Tapestry. Anne Mather

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      His voice was still quiet, but his blue eyes had narrowed and Debra felt suddenly afraid. After all, who did she really know here, in San Francisco? A few teachers at the High School. Her landlady? Who would miss her if she disappeared?

      ‘Please,’ she said, running a tongue over her dry lips, ‘go away. I … I don’t want anything to do with it. I’m sorry if you’ve had a wasted journey.’

      ‘Open the door,’ he repeated, ignoring her pleas.

      Debra closed her eyes momentarily. ‘And if I don’t?’

      ‘You will.’

      She glanced back at the telephone. ‘I could call the police.’

      ‘You could be dead before they arrive,’ he remarked, as though he was discussing the weather.

      ‘Oh!’ Debra pressed a hand to her mouth.

      ‘Oh, for God’s sake, open the door,’ he said coldly. ‘You have nothing to fear from me.’

      Debra unlatched the door with shaking fingers, unable to resist any longer. She opened it wider, and he stepped inside, into the light. Then, as before with Emmet Morley, she saw his sudden shock of recognition, before he controlled his expression.

      She saw now he was a man in his late thirties, dressed casually in a turtle-necked navy blue sweater over grey pants, a grey car-coat over all. She thought he was very attractive, and stifled the idea. But there was a kind of animal magnetism about him that was hard to ignore. Whatever kind of life he had led, it had not been always easy, she thought. He was no soft-skinned drone; and this was part of his attraction. He would not be a man to play around with—in any way.

      ‘So,’ he murmured, ‘you are Debra Warren.’

      Debra did not reply, but merely stood there rubbing her elbows with the palms of her hands nervously.

      ‘Emmet tells me you made a good test. And you read part of Laura’s script from “Avenida”.’

      Debra shrugged and nodded.

      ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘are your parents living?’

      Debra shook her head. ‘No.’

      ‘Don’t give too much away,’ he remarked dryly, lighting himself a cigarette. ‘Who were they?’

      ‘I never knew them. I … I suppose my father was my aunt’s brother, as our names are the same.’

      He studied her thoughtfully. ‘And you never knew Elizabeth Steel.’

      Debra stared at him exasperatedly. ‘Oh, not that again!’ she exclaimed. ‘How would I know Elizabeth Steel?’

      He ignored her question and said: ‘Where do you live?’

      ‘Didn’t Mr. Morley tell you?’ she asked sarcastically.

      ‘Yes. But you tell me.’

      Debra exhaIed irritably. ‘Valleydown, in Sussex. Don’t tell me you’ve heard of it!’

      Again he ignored her outburst, much to her annoyance.

      ‘How old were you when they died?’

      Debra compressed her lips. ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Come on. When?’

      Debra squared her shoulders. ‘Now look here,’ she said. ‘You’ve come here, practically forced your way in and asked a lot of questions for which you’ve received answers. Now this is all! Do you understand?’ Her green eyes were blazing, and he seemed lost in some speculative study. Then he shrugged, his eyes cold.

      ‘You look here,’ he said, in a quiet voice that emanated suppressed violence. ‘Sure I’ve come here uninvited, sure I’ve asked you questions, and can you say in all honesty you don’t know what in hell I’m talking about?’

      ‘Of course I can!’ Debra felt something suspiciously like tears behind her eyes, pricking uncomfortably. ‘If I knew what it was all about, maybe I’d be able to tell you what you want to know. Because it seems obvious to me that you want something that at present you’re not getting.’

      ‘You’re damn right,’ he muttered, his blue eyes piercing her cruelly. ‘I really believe you’re on the level!’

      Debra was breathing swiftly. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ she exclaimed, ‘get to the point!’

      ‘All right, all right, I will!’ He flung his cigarette out of the half-open window, staring momentarily on the midnight blue scene below him, lit like stars with the myriads of lights of the city.

      Then he looked back at her. ‘All right, Miss Warren. You can have it straight. Elizabeth Steel may have been your mother!’

      For a moment there was silence in the apartment, and then Debra gave a nervous laugh. ‘You must be joking,’ she exclaimed.

      He shook his head, and said: ‘Say, do you have anything to drink around here?’

      Debra shook her head. ‘Only Coke.’

      He smiled sardonically, and for a brief moment she could not drag her eyes away from him. Then she hunched her shoulders and looked towards the kitchen. ‘Do you want some coffee?’

      He shrugged, and then tucked his fingers into the back waistband of his trousers, walking across to the television, and switching it off firmly. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘let’s have some conversation. What do you really know about your parents?’

      Debra twisted her fingers together. ‘Before you start asking questions, let me ask one,’ she said. ‘Why are you so sure I might be Elizabeth Steel’s daughter? Where’s the connection?’

      He put his hand into his inside pocket and drew out a wallet. From it he extracted a photograph which he handed silently to Debra. She stared at it in amazement. She might have been looking at a photograph of herself. But this woman’s face was older more mature, and yet, basically, there was little difference. The hair, the eyes, the whole expression, was emphatically identical.

      ‘I see,’ said Debra, breathing shakily. ‘Now I understand.’ Then she looked up at him. ‘Even so, it’s possible for anyone to have a double.’

      He lit another cigarette before answering. ‘Sure it is, and that’s why Emmet wanted to test you. I guess he thought that if you were conceivably some relation of Steel’s it would show.’

      ‘And?’

      ‘Well, let’s say the resemblance was sufficient to warrant further investigation.’

      Debra brushed back her hair from her eyes, feeling bewildered. It was like some crazy dream, brought about by the disturbing affair at the studios. This couldn’t actually be happening to her. Her parents had been English, they had been killed in a train crash when she was a baby. She could not possibly be Elizabeth Steel’s daughter.

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