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happy.”
    â€œYes, er . . .” Roderick cleared his throat.
    â€œBut you’re not?” Pat had turned to smile again, this time apologetically. “I can’t say I’m surprised. In fact, we realized you wouldn’t be. That’s why Cordelia took the first opportunity to come clean.”
    â€œCould we sit down for a moment?”
    They had come to a roadside bench. Pat nodded and said, “Sure.” He and Roderick sat, and Roderick tried to formulate his thoughts yet again.
    â€œYou see, all we can imagine is that this book is designed to chuck mud at Myra Mason. Destroy the Dame Myra image. If she wants to do that, well, that’s Cordelia’s business. I can imagine she has a good many scores she wants to settle with her mother. My impression of Myra, on my one brief meeting many years ago, was of a powerful, egotistical person, somewhat hysterical—or at least one that needed a constant succession of scenes. We can see that Cordelia’s childhood was probably not an easy one. Still, it’s an ugly business, and one we don’t particularly want to be associated with. Am I sounding like Pontius Pilate?”
    â€œNo, no.”
    â€œThere’s another thing. There’s been a battle royal between my father and Myra Mason before. Twenty-oddyears ago. Fought in the tabloid press and elsewhere. Most people in the literary and journalistic world have a fair idea of his present condition. It could look as if we’re reviving that old war and using his natural daughter to do it. . . . Oh, dear, I’m still sounding like Pontius Pilate, aren’t I? What I’m really trying to say is that I find the whole project repulsive.”
    Pat thought long, in his manner. “Yes, I can understand that. But in fact it’s a little more complex than you realize.”
    â€œYou mean she was exaggerating her feeling about her mother?”
    â€œNo, not that. She had a terrible childhood—neglected, abused, even physically maltreated. That’s her story, if she wants to tell it to you. I know it’s true, because I know Cordelia doesn’t lie. But there’s another side: She does admire her mother tremendously as an actress. It was something that she clung tight to all through her childhood: She does this to me, but it’s part of the process of being a great star. She’s seen everything her mother’s been in since she was six, and she has a tremendous archive of reviews. She also has a host of backstage memories, and she’s interviewed people she’s acted with. That part of the book is almost finished. I’ve read it. It’s brilliant. There’s an account of Myra’s Rebecca West, for example, that’s uncanny. It brings it totally to life, so that you feel you’ve seen it, yet Cordelia was only thirteen when Myra did Rosmersholm. That part of the book could be published on its own, and it’s pure admiration, almost hero worship.”
    â€œI see . . . But in the other part it’s to be no holds barred?”
    Pat shrugged. “There’s no reason for her to pull her punches. Myra is a monster, and Cordelia’s been the main victim.”
    â€œBut isn’t she worried the publisher will simply reject it?”
    Pat smiled. “Not really. Of course, Cordelia will be willing to negotiate, go into a huddle with the lawyers and so on. But if they find it just too hot to handle, then the part on Myra’s stage career can be published, lavishly illustrated. High-class fan stuff. If they put a veto on the other part, Cordelia’s going to lodge it with her bank. Her mother will know that as soon as she dies this account of her personal life will be published. That, in a way, will be almost better—a revenge, but a long-drawn-out one, hanging over Myra for the rest of her life. I suppose you think that sounds quite disgusting?”
    â€œYes, I do