WHEN THE LIMO finally returned them to their hotel after the concert, Beth and Steve were both in a state of elation, the high that comes after performing or witnessing a hit show. 'The Redeemers' Messiah and their lead singer Beth Boothby's sublime voice blew the capacity audience in the cathedral away,' reported the BBC radio news programme. Steve would never forget the excitement of that colossal standing ovation at the end. Beth was still feeding upon it, that power to move people so much. She only worried slightly that her plain black dress was not quite adequate for the occasion. Steve just couldn't wait to get out of his formal suit and tie.
Terry Buckhauser, the Redeemers' co-ordinator, over from Texas just for the concert, had talked to them both in their limo as it was taking them to the Dome, the Grand Hotel's real fancy restaurant where Lachlan and Delia were giving a reception for Beth. Terry told them how terrific the concert had been and how good for America's image it was to have something other than war to export right now. 'Not that I am suggesting it is anything but a just war,' he said hurriedly, adding: 'God certainly wants us to punish those evil-doers out there. But right here in Scotland you'll be facing, when you start going door to door, preaching God's word, probably a very different reaction. You mustn't think you're going to get quite the reception you got in that cathedral. But I know you're brave people. You'll find some hostility, no doubt. But these Scottish, they're basically kind, decent folks. You'll find that too. I'm sure of it.'
When she entered the small lobby of her suite, Beth found banks of flowers, in baskets, pots and wrapped in fancy paper; all tributes for her performance. Steve was waiting for her, watching the television coverage of the reception from which she had just come, which was still going on down below. Breathlessly excited, she ran towards him, and he, equally excited, caught her in his arms, swinging her off her feet.
'Steve, I just cannot believe how those folks can talk,' babbled Beth. 'I mean they're just so kind and enthusiastic but like so totally polite… it's awesome… in that amazing accent of theirs.'
Steve, dressed now in jeans and a T-shirt, laughed at her slightly incoherent babble. 'You're just used to kids, honey. Fans that are kids and teens.' He was looking at the television showing the milling crowd, and a presenter interviewing Lachlan and Delia. 'Those dudes are old.
But boy did they love you. Wow!'
'So how about you, cowboy? That singin' gal is the new me. D'you still love me?'
For answer he grabbed an open bottle of champagne he had been drinking and took a gulp of it from the neck. He put his mouth to hers, letting the champagne flow in. Beth went slightly pop-eyed as she tried to gulp it down, and they were both spluttering and laughing and falling on the bed, Steve on top of Beth. Suddenly they were both following their strong instinct to make love to each other, his hands on her thighs, her open mouth hungrily seeking his. Steve whispered teasingly: 'I loved you when you had braces on your teeth. And I love you now you're the most beautiful and talented woman in Scotland.'
Beth's dress was up to her waist now. She suddenly wrenched herself away from him, sitting bolt upright, stretching her legs to plant her feet firmly on the floor again. She grabbed his silver ringed hand in her silver ringed hand, and thrust them close to his face.
'Silver ring, Steve!' cried Beth. 'Silver ring, honey!'
Breathless, Steve's response came slowly.
'Sometimes I don't think I'm ever – ever goin' to get used to…'
'Abstainin'?' Beth whispered, distracted, because in the backgound she could now hear her own voice singing in the cathedral.
They both leaned forward to watch the television as the presenter wrapped up the programme against a clip of Beth finishing her performance.
'Well that was the new Beth Boothby bringing the Word of the Lord to us sinful Scots. Now let's take a last look at the old familiar Beth singing her greatest hit…'
Another clip of Beth filled the screen. This time she was dressed in hot pants and in the full pop princess costume. Her body undulating, she was making love to the microphone as she sang a breathy, sexy ballad.
Beth grabbed the TV control gizmo and tried to switch herself off, but pushed the wrong button and the image kept bouncing back. Furious, she pointed the gizmo at her image like a gun.
'I just hate her!' she cried.
'But she's you, baby,' said Steve.
'Not any more she isn't.' Beth finally achieved a blank screen. Meanwhile Steve had gathered up his sneakers and was heading for the door. Beth darted in front of him.
'Where you goin' Steve?' she asked sharply. She put her arms round him and gave him a languorous kiss on the mouth, to which Steve,
sulky and frustrated, only half responded.
'My room, honey,' he said.The telephone by the bed started to ring. Beth hesitated, her attention on Steve. She suddenly sounded very serious and earnest.
'I promise that – when we're wed – you're goin' to know you married a real lil' ole Jezebel.'
She turned away to pick up the telephone while Steve waited an instant to see who was calling.
'Delia!' Beth assumed her best, socially-friendly tone. 'Yeah, that reception was so wonderful. You and Lachlan were so kind… No… Steve has gotten a whole lot of maps. But thank you. Yeah, we got your numbers. If anything comes up we'll call… Sure. We'll let you know how it went… Really appreciate it, Delia… Good night.'
While Beth was talking Steve snuck up behind her and kissed the nape of her neck and immediately left the room. Beth turned to see Steve had gone. She touched the back of her neck, sighed and smiled a little ruefully.