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realized that it was his swearing she was clucking over, and that it was a standard game with them. They seemed to have a nice relationship. I wondered what Mr Marshall had been like—dull and solid, probably, a quiet man.
    ‘Sarah and Anne didn’t get along?’ I asked. Sarah Wiggen had hinted at the same thing, but had at least implied that the aloofness was all on Anne’s side.
    ‘Well,’ Marshall grinned, even blushed. ‘Sarah and me, I, we had a thing for a while. Before I met Anne, you know? We were in the same class a while, me and Sarah. Scene class.’
    ‘Sarah’s an actress, too?’
    ‘Was, not now. Quit it. Got some mother-hen job in some kind of residence hall for females.’
    ‘You and Sarah?’ I said. ‘Then Anne came along?’
    ‘Bingo, that’s it. We had the same ideas, you know?’
    His voice, still soft and pleasant, jerked and jumped like a spastic. Nervous: voice and body. His strange, light eyes were hard to really see, elusive. I saw in them, vaguely, that same self-awareness I had seen in the action pictures of him at the theatre, a small fear that seemed part of him. Not for now, always; as if he lived every day a little afraid. I remembered a very young second mate on a Liberty ship during the war whose eyes had been like that when we entered the war zone. Not afraid of the submarines in themselves, but afraid every day that something would happen to the skipper and first mate, leaving him. A man in over his head on nerve he didn’t really have.
    ‘You’re nervous,’ I said. ‘Worried about Anne?’
    ‘That,’ he said, nodded. ‘Maybe more worried without her, you know? She’s cut out, ditched the theatre and all?’
    ‘You know any reasons she would ditch it?’
    ‘Not a one.’
    ‘Nothing? Friends, plans, troubles?’
    ‘Who knows, you know? I went over on Friday like usual. She wasn’t home. No word before or since. I never see her on weekends, of course. That’s her time with the big sports, money work. Sarah says she talked about going down home, but not to me she didn’t.’
    ‘You had big plans for your theatre,’ I said. ‘Plans that cost money. Could that be part of her disappearance?’
    ‘Plans? Hell, we’re not even sure of the next show.’
    Mrs Marshall objected, ‘Perhaps you didn’t have big plans, Theodore, but I know Anne did. Why, I’ve heard her talking about them here. It worried me for you. She’s too ambitious.’
    ‘Knock it off, Ma,’ Marshall said. His voice was curt. ‘Pipe dreams; pie-in-the-sky. Anne and her big dreams. All fog, you know?’
    ‘Dreams can be trouble,’ I said. ‘Money and influence, is that what she was after?’
    Marshall nodded. Mrs Marshall wan’t even listening to me. Her eyes were for her boy.
    ‘She’s too old for you, Theodore,’ she said.
    His pale eyes looked to the ceiling for help. ‘For Christ sake, Ma, I’m four years older than Anne.’
    ‘She’s a mature woman. You’re still a boy,’ she said.
    ‘That’s swell, thanks. A boy who lives off his mother, right? Go to work for me, Ma. Work your ass off!’
    She flinced, but her voice was calm. ‘That’s hardly called for in front of a stranger.’ She looked at me. ‘Theodore doesn’t like me to work, especially not at night. I’m not fond of it, but the theatre is demanding. He works much too hard, really. He has his odd-hour job, though I’m against that. He shouldn’t waste time on money work without future. Still, the job pays for his clothes, and appearance is vital in the theatre. Of course, I wish Theodore wanted a more solid career, but a career is useless if it isn’t what a man wants. Theodore must have his chance, and you get nowhere with half measures. Now is the time he has to think only of his goal. I’m really quite selfish, you see. Investing for my old age when he’s rich.’
    Her smile was a little mocking of herself. A mother who was justifying her son, but who was also pushing him to face his own goals more