said Fran, sucking on a carrot stick. ‘No wonder Sophie never gives prompts on time. Her nose is always in some book, reading useless facts.’
‘But I don’t think that’s useless,’ said Elinor, calming waters. ‘I think it’s fascinating. Thank you, Sophie, for telling us. Now who wants some of this delicious salad?’
Elinor was looking like a cat who’d found the double cream opened. I think she had met someone new.
Joe was watching me. I could sense his eyes aimed in my direction. I kept my head down when it was not in a wine glass. The good-looking young waiter had my measure and kept filling it. I began to like him very much.
At some point in the supper, Joe stood up, glass in hand, tapping it with a spoon. It rang clearly like a bell.
‘I know you don’t want another speech from me, one is quite enough. But I can’t let the occasion pass without thanking the young woman who made our press reception such an outstanding success. The food might have been a little strange and the music not entirely original medieval but it all worked, and that’s what matters. Please stand and raise your glasses to Sophie, our hard-working prompt.’ Joe grinned in my direction. I suddenly realized that he meant me.
Everyone stood up including me. Bill tugged at my arm. ‘Not you, you daft twit. Sit down. We’re toasting you.’
‘To Sophie, our hard-working prompt,’ said the cast, slurping more drink. ‘Our g-gorgeous prompt.’
‘Sometimes our prompt,’ Fran added with her usual brand of acid. ‘When she’s awake.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, nodding generally. ‘You are all very kind. My dear friends. Well, most of them, anyway.’
Ice creams, sorbets and fresh figs were arriving now but I couldn’t eat a single mouthful more. It had been a lovely supper and a mile of taste buds away from my pedestrian beans on toast and chopped cheese and apple in front of late-night telly. I wanted to tell Joe how much I had enjoyed it, but Fran was superglued to him and ready to pounce if I so much as looked.
‘That was a lovely meal, wasn’t it?’ I said to Jessica. She hadrelaxed and was telling me about her early days in rep. But she had no sense of humour and her stories were relentlessly banal. Maybe one day she would make a joke and her porcelain skin would crack.
Claud, on the other hand, had launched into his repertoire of jokes. He’d once been a standup comic when he could stand up. He’d worked all the clubs.
Everyone was leaving, a little unsteadily. I didn’t think I could stand up, let alone walk. Perhaps I would wait until everyone had gone and then I could crawl out.
‘Come on, Sophie, we may as well share a taxi,’ said Joe. ‘Stir yourself.’
Fran sidled up to him, flashing her smoky eyes. ‘How about coming back to my place for a brandy?’ she said. ‘A nice way to round off the evening.’
Round off the evening? Was that what horizontal wrestling was called these days? Joe was shaking his head. He was always so polite.
‘Sorry, Fran. Early start tomorrow. I’ve the technical in the morning.’
Bill groaned and clutched his chest. ‘The technical. I’d forgotten all about it. Jesus, it’ll be a bloody disaster.’
‘No, it won’t,’ I said comfortingly. I had no idea what I was talking about. ‘Not a disaster. Perhaps a bit of a shambles. You mark my words, mister.’
Joe was pushing my head through the poncho and pulling me to my feet. ‘Where’s your bag, lady?’
‘What bag lady?’
‘Your clothes. Remember them?’
Elinor put the carrier bag into my hand. ‘Are you looking for this, my dear?’ She was amused at my disarray.
Taxis appeared like magic on the street or had Joe ordered them? We all piled in, dropping people off at different places. This time I was squashed between Joe and Elinor. They kept me more or less upright. I very much wanted to go to sleep, a real sleep, like a ten-day coma with a handsome TV doctor hovering at my bedside.
Street
‘But I don’t think that’s useless,’ said Elinor, calming waters. ‘I think it’s fascinating. Thank you, Sophie, for telling us. Now who wants some of this delicious salad?’
Elinor was looking like a cat who’d found the double cream opened. I think she had met someone new.
Joe was watching me. I could sense his eyes aimed in my direction. I kept my head down when it was not in a wine glass. The good-looking young waiter had my measure and kept filling it. I began to like him very much.
At some point in the supper, Joe stood up, glass in hand, tapping it with a spoon. It rang clearly like a bell.
‘I know you don’t want another speech from me, one is quite enough. But I can’t let the occasion pass without thanking the young woman who made our press reception such an outstanding success. The food might have been a little strange and the music not entirely original medieval but it all worked, and that’s what matters. Please stand and raise your glasses to Sophie, our hard-working prompt.’ Joe grinned in my direction. I suddenly realized that he meant me.
Everyone stood up including me. Bill tugged at my arm. ‘Not you, you daft twit. Sit down. We’re toasting you.’
‘To Sophie, our hard-working prompt,’ said the cast, slurping more drink. ‘Our g-gorgeous prompt.’
‘Sometimes our prompt,’ Fran added with her usual brand of acid. ‘When she’s awake.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, nodding generally. ‘You are all very kind. My dear friends. Well, most of them, anyway.’
Ice creams, sorbets and fresh figs were arriving now but I couldn’t eat a single mouthful more. It had been a lovely supper and a mile of taste buds away from my pedestrian beans on toast and chopped cheese and apple in front of late-night telly. I wanted to tell Joe how much I had enjoyed it, but Fran was superglued to him and ready to pounce if I so much as looked.
‘That was a lovely meal, wasn’t it?’ I said to Jessica. She hadrelaxed and was telling me about her early days in rep. But she had no sense of humour and her stories were relentlessly banal. Maybe one day she would make a joke and her porcelain skin would crack.
Claud, on the other hand, had launched into his repertoire of jokes. He’d once been a standup comic when he could stand up. He’d worked all the clubs.
Everyone was leaving, a little unsteadily. I didn’t think I could stand up, let alone walk. Perhaps I would wait until everyone had gone and then I could crawl out.
‘Come on, Sophie, we may as well share a taxi,’ said Joe. ‘Stir yourself.’
Fran sidled up to him, flashing her smoky eyes. ‘How about coming back to my place for a brandy?’ she said. ‘A nice way to round off the evening.’
Round off the evening? Was that what horizontal wrestling was called these days? Joe was shaking his head. He was always so polite.
‘Sorry, Fran. Early start tomorrow. I’ve the technical in the morning.’
Bill groaned and clutched his chest. ‘The technical. I’d forgotten all about it. Jesus, it’ll be a bloody disaster.’
‘No, it won’t,’ I said comfortingly. I had no idea what I was talking about. ‘Not a disaster. Perhaps a bit of a shambles. You mark my words, mister.’
Joe was pushing my head through the poncho and pulling me to my feet. ‘Where’s your bag, lady?’
‘What bag lady?’
‘Your clothes. Remember them?’
Elinor put the carrier bag into my hand. ‘Are you looking for this, my dear?’ She was amused at my disarray.
Taxis appeared like magic on the street or had Joe ordered them? We all piled in, dropping people off at different places. This time I was squashed between Joe and Elinor. They kept me more or less upright. I very much wanted to go to sleep, a real sleep, like a ten-day coma with a handsome TV doctor hovering at my bedside.
Street
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