Toby winked at the receptionist, took a deep breath and walked into Mrs. Tanner’s office.
Alice Tanner was a dark-haired woman, with an attractive, aristocratic face. She appeared to be in her middle thirties, about ten years older than Toby. She was seated behind her desk, but what Toby could see of her figure was sensational. This place is going to be just fine, Toby decided.
Toby smiled winningly and said, “I’m Toby Temple.”
Alice Tanner rose from behind the desk and walked toward him. Her left leg was encased in a heavy metal brace and she limped with the practiced, rolling walk of someone who has lived with it for a long time.
Polio, Toby decided. He did not know whether to comment on it.
“So you want to enroll in our classes.”
“Very much,” Toby said.
“May I ask why?”
He made his voice sincere. “Because everywhere I go, Mrs. Tanner, people talk about your school and the wonderful plays you put on here. I’ll bet you have no idea of the reputation this place has.”
She studied him a moment. “I do have an idea. That’s why I have to be careful to keep out phonies.”
Toby felt his face begin to redden, but he smiled boyishly and said, “I’ll bet. A lot of them, must try to crash in here.”
“Quite a few,” Mrs. Tanner agreed. She glanced at the card she held in her hand. “Toby Temple.”
“You probably haven’t heard the name,” he explained, “because for the last couple of years, I’ve been—”
“Playing repertory in England.”
He nodded. “Right.”
Alice Tanner looked at him and said quietly, “Mr. Temple, Americans are not permitted to play in English repertory. British Actors Equity doesn’t allow it.”
Toby felt a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
“You might have checked first and saved us both this embarrassment. I’m sorry, but we only enroll professional talent here.” She started back toward her desk. The interview was over.
“Hold it!” His voice was like a whiplash.
She turned in astonishment. At that instant, Toby had no idea what he was going to say or do. He only knew that his whole future was hanging in the balance. The woman standing in front of him was the stepping-stone to everything he wanted, everything he had worked and sweated for, and he was not going to let her stop him.
“You don’t judge talents by rules, lady! Okay—so I haven’t acted. And why? Because people like you won’t give me a chance. You see what I mean?” It was W. C. Field’s voice.
Alice Tanner opened her mouth to interrupt him, but Toby never gave her the opportunity. He was Jimmy Cagney telling her to give the poor kid a break, and James Stewart agreeing with him, and Clark Gable saying he was dying to work with the kid and Cary Grant adding that he thought the boy was brilliant. A host of Hollywood stars was in that room, and they were all saying funny things, things that Toby Temple had never thought of before. The words, the jokes poured out of him in a frenzy of desperation. He was a man drowning in the darkness of his own oblivion, clinging to a life raft of words, and the words were all that were keeping him afloat. He was soaked in perspiration, running around the room, imitating the movement of each character who was talking. He was manic, totally outside of himself, forgetting where he was and what he was here for until he heard Alice Tanner saying, “Stop it! Stop it!”
Tears of laughter were streaming down her face.
“Stop it!” she repeated, gasping for breath.
And slowly, Toby came down to earth. Mrs. Tanner had taken out a handkerchief and was wiping her eyes.
“You—you’re insane,” she said. “Do you know that?”
Toby stared at her, a feeling of elation slowly filling him, lifting, exalting him. “You liked it, huh?”
Alice Tanner shook her head and took a deep breath to control her laughter and said, “Not—not very much.”
Toby looked at her, filled with rage. She had been laughing at him, not with him. He had been making a fool of himself.