Situation Tragedy

‘He said he’d got rid of them all. I didn’t believe him. Not many of these authors want to part with their private copies of their own works. Mind you, the widows often don’t care so much, if you come in with a reasonable offer.’

‘Really? No, no, I haven’t met him. Don’t know much about him.’ Anything about him, in fact.

‘Well, do you want to buy it?’

Charles couldn’t remember exactly why he had thought the book important. It was part of some train of thought that had been shunted off into a siding to make way for the Intercity express conviction of Barton Rivers’ guilt. On the other hand, he did feel fairly flush and this bloke had taken the trouble to ring up.

‘Yes, please, I would like it.’

‘Okay, well, if you can send me a cheque for?5.32 — that’s with postage — I’ll send the book as soon as I receive the money.’

‘Fine.’

Be nice to have something to read while he watched to see who Barton Rivers tried to eliminate next.

He felt a chill. Of course it was possible that the old madman might start on members of The Strutters cast.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘Now please don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay,’ Peter Lipscombe assured the cast at the read- through on the 27th July, ‘but I should just put you in the picture about the news on the industrial front. You’ll have heard that there was a one-day strike last Monday, and there have also been one or two other go-slows and things happening, but I think the atmosphere’s clearing now, and I don’t think we need worry about our recording next Friday. You may find odd things happening in the W.E.T. building — I mean, for instance there may not be any canteen service and the bar may suddenly be closed.’

A communal groan broke from the cast.

‘But I think basically everything’s going to be okay. We’ll get the show made, don’t you worry about that. Now one thing I should tell you — I don’t think it’s likely to happen, but we should be prepared for any eventuality — when we get into the studio, we may have to rehearse/record the show during the day. You see, at the moment — and I’m sure this will have changed by next Friday — at the moment the security men have got an overtime ban on, which means that they won’t work evenings, which means we can’t have an audience in the studio because of safety regulations. So if that ban hasn’t been lifted — and I’m sure it will have been — we’ll get the schedule changed and do the show during the day.’

‘And dub the laughs on afterwards?’ asked Bob Tomlinson.

‘Yes,’ replied the producer with distaste.

‘Good,’ said Bob Tomlinson.

‘Okay, sure it won’t happen, but thought you’d like to know. Oh, one other thing about the studio. We’re not in Studio A this week, we’re in B.’

‘The small one?’ asked George Birkitt, affronted.

‘Smaller,’ conceded the producer.

‘Why?’

‘Well, Wragg and Bowen are in the big studio.’

‘Why?’

‘It is a big prestige show.’

‘And what about us? Aren’t we a big prestige show?’

‘Of course, of course. But not quite as big a prestige show as Wragg and Bowen.’

‘Just because of the bloody money they’re being paid. .’ George Birkitt muttered darkly.

‘You finished?’ asked Bob Tomlinson, with his customary lack of grace.

‘More or less,’ said Peter Lipscombe.

‘Right, let’s get this rubbish read. You ready on the watch, girl?’

Jay Lewis was ready for the read-through, but George Birkitt wasn’t. ‘I’m sorry, before we start, there are a few things in this script we’ve got to change.’

‘Why?’ asked Bob Tomlinson belligerently.

‘Because they’re just wrong. I mean I’ve spent seven episodes of this series — not to mention all the What’ll the Neighbours before it — building up Colonel Strutter into a recognisable, rounded comic character, and now I’m handed a script in which not only does he have considerably less lines than in previous episodes, but the ones he does have are unfunny and out of character.’

‘Oh, but we’ve worked so hard to maintain the character,’ wailed Sam Tennison, dressed today in a Mister Men T-shirt and strawberry coloured jeans. ‘Haven’t we, darling?’

‘Yes, indeed, darling,’ concurred Willy Tennison, also dressed today in a Mister Men T-shirt and strawberry coloured jeans.

‘Then obviously you just haven’t worked hard enough,’ said George Birkitt. ‘I mean, I know Colonel Strutter, and these lines aren’t Colonel Strutter. I can’t learn lines that are out of character.’

‘You can’t learn lines that are in character,’ was the thought that went through every mind in the room. But nobody said it.

‘I mean, for a start, since when has Colonel Strutter called Mrs Strutter ‘darling’?’

‘Oh, but all married couples call each other “darling”. Don’t they, darling?’

‘They certainly do, darling.’

‘Not Colonel Strutter. He wouldn’t go in for that sort of sentimental nonsense. He never calls his wife anything.’

‘But he has to call her something,’ complained Sam Tennison.

‘Well, he doesn’t.’

‘But everyone calls everyone something. Don’t they, darling?’

‘They most certainly do, darling.’

‘Anyway, that’s only a detail,’ George Birkitt steamrollered on. ‘The plot is full of silly things too, which are just out of keeping with the rest of the series that we’ve already made. I mean, that business at the end with the samurai sword. Have you ever met a Japanese with a samurai sword?’ He turned to the Japanese actor who was playing the Strutters new neighbour. ‘I mean, have you got any samurai swords?’

‘Yes, many,’ replied the Japanese with a polite smile.

‘Well, that’s neither here nor there. As a pay-off for an episode of The Strutters it’s just hopelessly out of keeping.’

‘Oh no,’ murmured Mort Verdon, who was sitting by Charles. ‘Don’t cut the samurai sword. I spent most of last week finding somewhere that would hire the thing to us. They’re about as easy to come by as a banana in a convent.’

‘Now come on,’ Peter Lipscombe was saying bonhomously. ‘I’m sure everything’s really okay with this script. Just change the odd word here and there and. .’

Charles relaxed. Barton Rivers had delivered Aurelia to the rehearsal and then driven away. If anything was going to happen, it wouldn’t be yet a while.

Idly he wondered what form the next attack would take. Shooting? Stabbing? Bombing?

He also wondered idly who would be its target.

But the week passed very quietly at the Paddington Jewish Boys’ Club. Those whose work took them into W.E.T. House, like Mort Verdon, came back speaking of strikes and rumours of strikes, but the atmosphere in the rehearsal room remained peaceful. All of the Strutters team had benefited from the few days’ rest and seemed relaxed. George Birkitt, whose objections to the script had really only been a way of asserting himself, was content with a few minor word-changes. The offending ‘darlings’ were excised, which made the script a revolutionary new departure in the literary careers of Willy and Sam Tennison, and George became quite mellow. He didn’t really mind about having less lines than usual; if the truth were told, he was quite relieved —