Situation Tragedy

‘Ah.’

At that moment Aurelia Howarth wafted up to the group, nursing the vile Cocky in her arms, and followed by George Birkitt. ‘Scottie darling,’ she cooed, ‘have you any idea what time we’ll be finishing today? I promised I’d ring Barton and tell him when to come round with the car.’

‘Oh, Dob. .’ Tilly Lake cooed in turn. ‘Don’t bother Barton. The PA’ll order a car for you.’

‘Or I could give you a lift,’ suggested Scott. ‘If you don’t mind the Mini. You’re more or less on my way and I wanted to have a chat about — ’

‘No, no, Barton’ll pick me up. He always does. He loves driving the Bentley. So what time, Scottie darling?’

‘Let me think. I would like to have a quick word with you about something before you go, so, if we reckon to read the scripts in about. .’

As Scott tried to estimate the shape of the afternoon, Charles sidled up to George Birkitt. ‘Does she really mean that the old boy still drives?’

‘Very much so.’

‘God, what a terrifying thought. I’m glad I haven’t got a car. I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace if I thought I might meet the old loony careering around in a Bentley.’

‘Oh, I dare say he’s safe enough. It’s only his mind that’s gone.’

‘That’s quite enough. I like to think that most people driving cars have got minds.’

‘Hmm’ George seemed distracted. ‘What do you think of the scripts?’

‘They seem remarkably like the pilot.’

‘I wonder. I think there are things that’ll have to be changed,’ George Birkitt said ominously. ‘And I’m rather annoyed with the Wardrobe girl.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Well, as you know, I’m the last person to make a fuss about something that isn’t important, but I just asked her if she could guarantee that I’d have the same dresser right through the series. It’s only a small thing, but it does make a big difference. I mean, when you’re concentrating on a performance, you don’t want to be thinking about costume changes and things. You want to be sure that all that side is in the hands of a regular dresser you can trust. Don’t you find that?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ agreed Charles Paris, whose eminence in his chosen profession had never merited the attentions of a personal dresser, regular or irregular.

He was pleasantly sedated with wine for the afternoon’s readings, but felt a great glow of righteousness from the fact that he did not actually go to sleep. What was more, he didn’t miss any of his cues. In both of the remaining scripts, he delivered his fourteen lines impeccably (impeccably, that is, in the character of Reg, the golf club barman, a character chiefly humorous for his drink problem). He felt very professional.

Round about four o’clock they finished the last script. Rod Tisdale appeared unmoved by the rendering of his oeuvre. Only once during the day had he spoken. That was at the end of the fourth script, when he had said. ‘Peter, I think there should be a change to that line on page 17 of Part Two.’

‘Which one, Rod?’

‘The Vicar’s line. Where he says, “It got stuck in my cupboard”.’

‘Yes, got it, Rod. What should it be?’

‘Can we change it to “It got stuck in my drawers”?’

‘Yes, sure, Rod.’

‘Silly of me, I should have thought of it earlier. Cupboard not funny. drawers funny — old rule of comedy.’

‘Okay, have you all got that change?’

After all the scripts had been read, Peter Lipscombe said again that he thought it was all very exciting and Scott Newton said he thought it was all very exciting too and everyone could go, except for those who were taking part in the filming, whom Wardrobe and Make-up wanted to see. Charles Paris needed no second bidding and made off.

‘Charles, Charles!’ He was almost out of the building before Mort Verdon caught up with him. The tall Stage Manager had come flapping down some side stairs in pursuit and was breathless. For the read-through he had selected a pale biscuit boiler suit and changed the diamond stud in his ear for a plain gold one.

‘Charles, dear, have to give you your calls for the filming. And Wardrobe wants a word. You’re a naughty boy to go off like that.’

Charles felt his hand lifted and a mock slap administered.

‘But I didn’t think I was in any of the filming. I thought I just stayed behind my bar.’

‘No, Charles. . You must read your script, dear. At the end of Episode Four it said quite clearly “Film. Golf Club Exterior. Reg the barman chases Colonel Strutter off the premises and into his house as the captions roll”.’

‘So there are no words?’

‘No. Just ad lib shouting.’

‘Oh well, that explains why I didn’t notice it. I only read the speeches.’

‘Oh dear.’ Mort Verdon made a Dame aux Camelias gesture against his forehead and then said, but not vindictively, ‘I can see we’re going to have trouble with you.’

A revolutionary thought struck Charles. ‘Does this mean I’ll be seen below the waist?’

‘Of course.

‘But barmen are never seen below the waist. Primary rule of television.’

‘First time for everything, dear. Now you come back like a good boy and have those lovely ladies in Wardrobe measure your inside leg for some trousers. I dare say you’ll enjoy that.’

‘These trousers’d do.’

Mort Verdon narrowed his eyes. ‘That I doubt.’

‘They were a nice pair of trousers ten years ago.’

‘I was a very beautiful young man ten years ago, but it doesn’t make the crows’ tootsies any less prominent now.’

‘I’d better come back then.’

‘Yes, boofle, that would be best.’

They were alone in the lift, so Charles hazarded a detective probe. ‘Pity about Sadie, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes. Terrible.’ As far as it was possible to judge through the drawl, Mort Verdon sounded as if he meant it. ‘I’ll miss her.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yes, she was so much fun.’

‘Fun!’

‘Yes, dear. Wicked sense of humour.’

‘That I can believe.’

‘Oh yes, I know her manner was brusque and all that, but underneath she had a. .’

He paused, gesticulating for the right word.

‘You aren’t going to say “heart of gold”, are you?’

‘Nooo,’ he replied, lengthening the vowel into a long swoop. ‘No, dear Sadie had a lot of qualities, but I don’t think a heart of gold was among them. But she could be very funny sometimes.’

The lift stopped and they walked towards the conference room. Charles persisted with his questioning. ‘Had she got a husband around?’

‘No, dear, not exactly around. There had been a husband at some point, but I think she left it in South Africa when she came over here.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘Don’t know exactly, boofle. Must be ten years, I should think, because she was a pretty senior PA here. And of course they don’t — or didn’t then — have the telly in South Africa, so she must have done all her training here.’

‘Ah.’ Soon they would be back with the hordes of Strutters. Charles had to be quick. ‘Did Sadie have a particular boyfriend?’