The Amateur Players (Closed for TheWorldBuilder)

[AndreaSubbie]

Her head came up at the sound of the double knock. Who could possibly be knocking on a Sunday morning?

Getting up from her little table where the light breakfast of juice, cereal and coffee were still half consumed, she wandered down to the front door wrapping her white towel dressing gown over her flannel pjs.

Thankfully she'd brushed her hair already but wasn't wearing any makeup. Her carpet slippers slapped on the tiles as she crossed the hallway.

She recognised the large outline through the stippled glass. Her mouth compressed into a flat line and brow creased lightly; she opened the door.

"Hello," she said. It then struck her that she was still cross. Not with him, but with a situation that was out of control. It wasn't his fault. He'd done nothing wrong.

Relenting, she softened her expression and with resignation added, "I suppose you better come upstairs." She'd seen that he was bringing gifts again, and turned to lead the way back up to her bedsit, where she gestured to the same chair he'd used last time after a Party, and put the kettle in to make his milky sweet tea.

Coillecting her own coffee from her breakfast table she sat in the other chair.

"This is getting to be a habit, you visiting me after a Players' party."

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

“They don’t seem to end well, do they?” he acknowledged, “I promise you, they’re usually good fun.”

She sat a few feet from him, her slim frame hidden by layers of fluffy fabric. Once again, her expression held secrets he couldn’t decipher. OK, he wasn’t the stud of Skipton, but he’d spent half of the past 40 years in his two long-term relationships, with other encounters along the way. What was she holding inside? Her enigma was as elusive as the image in the persistent dream which was so regular now.

He sipped the tea, thankful that she’d remembered to lace it with sugar and drown it in milk. He didn’t enjoy the drink, but social convention gave him the choice of that or bitter, unpalatable coffee.

Placing the dainty cup on his muscled thigh, he looked straight into her eyes. “I’m sorry, Andi.”

 

[AndreaSubbie]

She looked up into his blueygrey eyes.

She looked at the chocolates, the flowers. She heard those words again in her head, "I'm sorry, Andi."

She looked down into her lap, her eyes on her mug of coffee but not seeing it. She looked up again into Paul's eyes. He seemed so sincere, like he felt responsible in some way.

Her heart gushed, her bottom lip quivered. She tried to stifle it, but it was building faster than the damn she was trying to put up to stop it.

Desperate to keep her face straight she lost focus as the tears welled in her eyes and overflowed to run in staright rivulets to her chin.

Then the damn burst, and she sobbed, gasping for breath, trying to see Paul through her blurry vision.

She sensed him lifting himself out the too-small chair and come over, taking the cup from her hands and effortlessly lifting her to her feet, wrapping his big protective arms round her.

She wept into his chest, all the confusion and mixed emotions and misunderstandings and uncertainty of the last few weeks washing out of her in the flood.

Her small hands were pressed against him either side of her face and she buried herself as if hiding from the world.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

She pressed her whole body into him, moulding her curves against his warm chest and belly, her ear underneath his Adam’s apple. He stooped slightly as she clung tightly and placed one hand and wrist behind both her slim thighs. Straightening, he lifted her effortlessly to his chest, using his other arm to twist her round so that she sat cradled in his embrace. A stray wisp of hair was curling towards her streaming eyes and he gently blew it back. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged even harder.

“Andi?” he whispered.

The only response was another loud sob. The change of position meant that the front of his thin cotton shirt wasn’t acquiring any additional damp patches, the moisture was now on his shoulder.

He wasn’t sure if any of the slender furniture would support their combined weight and, once more, his flickering thoughts digressed as he recalled a sturdy pine table which had broken under the onslaught of a particularly vigorous fucking session.

Patiently, he stood holding Andrea. As in his dreams, he enveloped her and protected her. She trembled less, now. He knew that his body would feel hot to her, even though he only wore that simple shirt in the Yorkshire autumn cold. His hand beneath her buttocks could feel their curve, the maximus beneath each rounded cheek. His other hand, supporting her shoulder, was large enough that the tips of his fingers curled round under her raised arm and lightly brushed the place where her armpit became the side of her breast.

He quietly started to hum, then his deep bass voice began to sing Dio’s lyrics:

When evening falls….

The soft melody of the rock ballad was almost like a lullaby an octave lower than its normal register.

….soft and warm, she’ll touch my face….

Andi tilted her brown eyes up towards him as she felt his powerful lungs expand and contract next to hers.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"You can put me down now," she said as her gaze flicked from one of his eyes to the other and back.

Taking one hand from round his strong neck she used the towelling sleeve to wipe her eyes and her face, embarassed that Paul should see her in such a state. She must look a mess.

Once back on her feet she didn't know what to do with herself so tidied away their mugs and ran water into her only vase for the flowers, long since vacated by those he'd brought after the other Theatre party.

"I've been catching up on my reading," she pointed to the books with their notes in various parts of the small room, "College is about to start and I'll be busy for a while with everything there. But we have a few weeks until rehearsals for Trojan Barbie, right? Lee will keep the kitchen straight so you won't even notice I'm gone.

In fact, it's ok, if you don't really want me for the part I'll understand. It's not like I actually do anything useful and I haven't really got acting experience. Perhaps it's best if I just disappear. Hey, you won't have to pay for flowers after the next Last Nighter," and she tried to smile and inject a little humour.

Paul was a nice man, kind and caring like Polly said, despite his gruffness. It wasn't fair on him to have her emtional immaturity cause so much confusion. Even though Polly was wrong about the two of them, just her thinking the way she did wasn't helpful for anyone.

Maybe it was for the best after all if she just left.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

What was she saying? ’disappear’ He sank back into the small chair, the certainty of holding her and reassuring her lost in the few sentences she uttered.

He tried to rewind. “Of course I want you in rehearsals. I don’t ask on a whim.” No, too stern. Softer. “You’ve been a little Bobbie Dazzler since you came to the Theatre. How can you get the experience without playing the part? If you want to learn, you have to make the effort and face the challenge.”

His arm, in turn, swept round all the books on equestrian care and management which were on almost all the flat surfaces in the room.

“I thought you wanted some jokes with Mike? How about a song, too?” In his mind, it wasn’t actually a bribe. He only wanted to offer some enticement to persuade her to stay. “Surely you’re not going because of whatever foolish thing I did last night? Is that what the tears were about? Oh, Andi, surely you can forgive the big, clumsy bear?”

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"OooooH!" she said in exasperation.

"There's nothing to forgive! You didn't DO anything." and she held back from saying that was part of the problem. She still wanted him to show some kind of jealousy over Lee talking with her, but she could hardly tell him, it was far too difficult to explain and he might get the wrong idea like Polly had.

"But thank you for the hug, well, whatever it was. It was nice. And I'm sorry I soaked your shirt. And thank you for the flowers and the chocolates though I don't deserve them. And you sing nice," which made her smile at him; he really did have a lovely rich bass singing voice.

She moved closer and raising herself on her toes leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Yes, I'd love a few jokes with Mike, and I do like singing. But if you really want me to, then yes I'll stay and give it my all. I said I'd do it so I will. I'll do my absolute best for you, and find some time to read the play properly and try to understand it, maybe with Polly like you suggested."

She put the flowers next to her abandoned breakfast and put the kettle on again.

"Would you like another tea? I don't have tomato juice but I do have a bottle of water in the fridge, and there's some fruit cake?"

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

“A big bear hug,” he said, “and you fit perfectly.” She did, he thought, recalling her body snuggled so closely against him. “You’re right about my little presents, though. You won’t deserve them if you try any magic tricks. If you disappear, so do they.” His deep chuckle told her that his threat was totally without substance.

Her lips left a sensation, a touch even though she was now back at the other side of the room. His diverted attention caught up as she was saying something about Polly.

"Would you like another tea? I don't have tomato juice but I do have a bottle of water in the fridge, and there's some fruit cake?"

He doubted she would have been to Tesco at the other end of town when Morrisons was closer. The water in her fridge was probably the chalky type that could trigger his kidney stones again. He considered the options. Skipton’s reservoir was over at Grimwith, above the limestone pavement. Not perfect, or else he’d drink it at home, but….

“Oh, corporation pop will do.” No, she had that puzzled look again. He had to stop confusing her with the 1970s Pennine idiom the older Players bandied around. “A glass of tap water. Oh, and stop bloody fussing.”

He relaxed a little as she waited for the water to boil. He’d thought for a moment he was going to lose her and his blood had chilled. He wanted to know more, to be closer, to spend time just being. Every time they had a conversation, he felt himself falling a little further under her spell. Even now, there was so much he didn’t know about this young woman, who’d become so much a part of his life so quickly.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"I'm not fussing, you big bully, so take your water and enjoy it!"

She'd run the cold tap for a few moments before filling a clean glass, which she put next to his chair. Freshly made coffee in one hand and a plate with two slices of fruit cake in the other she sat in her comfy chair and offered him the plate.

It was her way of apologising, and giving him a reason to stay, to feel that he was welcome to stay.

The thing was, she really did enjoy his company, even though they didn't talk very often beyond what was necessary. She remembered how he'd chatted before the Party, when it was just the two of them in the Green Room before curtain call. It had been relaxed, friendly, pleasant. Why did Polly have to ruin it with her silly ideas?

"So this Panto, Aladdin, can you tell me what you're planning or is it all a big secret waiting for the Dramatic Reveal?"

She ate her own piece of cake and sipped her coffee, sitting back in her chair, feeling much better after a good cry. It was always better to have someone to cry on than to have to blub on her own. They just needed a supply of dry shirts.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Whatever had caused the tears, the chirpy Andi was back. Big bully, indeed. “Fruit cake for breakfast? Your diet’s as haphazard as mine,” he teased.

"So this Panto, Aladdin, can you tell me what you're planning or is it all a big secret waiting for the Dramatic Reveal?" she asked once she’d taken a bite of her own cake.

“I haven’t got it quite right yet,” he answered, “and I don’t usually let anything leak until I’m happy. What I will say is most of your scenes are with Lucy, but you’ll have some with Mike and some with me. Lucy’s been doing pantomime with her dad since she could barely walk, so she’ll ease you in.”

Andi stared at him.

“No, you won’t be Principal Boy,” he laughed. “I’m thinking Princess’ maid.”

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"Ha ha I'm far too new to be Principal Boy, and nowhere near experienced enough! Don't worry, I wasn't thinking anything as high profile as that. But Princess's Maid sounds nice. Do I get a lovely costume to wear? A big dress and stockings and stuff?"

It all sounded rather fun, and she was again looking forward to it. But first she had to acquit herself well in 'Barbie'. That was the hurdle. Paul had said she needed to prove herself before he was sure she could play a part in the Panto.

"Ok, keep it to yourself. I'll just have to be grateful for whatever dramatic crumbs you're offering."

As if to emphasise the point, she finished her cake and cradled her mug in both hands, sipping the hot brew.

This was nice. Just having Paul here was better than being on her own. her Reading List could wait.

"You don't have to bring flowers or chocolates every time you visit, you know. You can just come round."

It seemed a natural thing to say given how relaxed she was feeling, and Andi didn't even think of the implications of her words.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

“Have you given the costume mistress your measurements yet?” he asked, as she nursed her coffee. “I doubt there will be anything your size.” Paul stopped himself from adding ’in the adult costumes’ not sure if she was sensitive about her petite build.

Her head shook, just once. She seemed deep in thought again. Paul hoped that wasn’t a signal for another bout of tears, no matter how delightful it had felt to hold her in his arms.

She glanced up at him, "You don't have to bring flowers or chocolates every time you visit, you know. You can just come round."

“Well I don’t want to impose….” His mind raced, 'just come round.' No, his rational mind insisted, it’s totally innocent, just a polite invitation. His darker psyche grasped the word ‘invitation’ and ran off into flights of fancy. It joined his subconscious dreamer and together they wished for another kind of ‘invitation’ from the lovely Andrea.

Paul pushed away the inner voices and tried to keep his outer one steady. “Maybe now and then, you’ll be busy with your course and I don’t know enough about horses to help you along.”

He looked round at the books, open at marked places. There were at least half a dozen thick volumes. Part of him was surprised that the old tradition persisted, but he supposed that modern students had to feel they were getting something for their £9,000 a year and .pdf files didn’t have enough substance to cut it.

“I’ve got a spare bookshelf at home, could you use it?” he lied. If she wanted one, he’d go and buy it for her.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"If you're sure you're not using it? I wouldn't want you to have to empty off all your back copies of Theatre Weekly, or Director's Digest?" she chuckled and smiled into his lovely eyes.

Then her smile faded a little. He didn't want to impose. Perhaps he didn't want to come round, didn't enjoy being here? Why should he? She wasn't the greatest conversationalist, he didn't seem to like her tea, and they didn't share much in the way of interests. He knew nothing of horses, those graceful primeval creatures, so alert, so ready to communicate in ways you couldn't explain.

Probably he just saw a chance to offload a bookcase he didn't need, and she was as good as a charity shop? Andi had to admit to worrying that he'd forget all about her while she was concentrating on College for the next few weeks. Him bringing a bookcase over would at least remind him that she existed.

"I could really do with a bookcase, actually. But only if you're sure?"

How did she say she wanted his bookcase? There would be something special about having a bookcase of his. It wouldn't be like the flowers or chocolates, bought items that had nothing of him, and anyway were gone in a moment. No, something that belonged to Paul would be quite different.

Of course, she only wanted it because it was practical. She so hoped he wouldn't tell Polly.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Continued ...

Polly seemed to guess too much! No, make up too much, yes, make up too much. She was sooo wrong. The proof was right there for everyone to see. Andi didn't follow Paul around like his puppy. Paul barely spoke to her at the Theatre. She didn't go all tongue tied in his presence, well not since she learned to not be scared of him. And she'd been scared for good reason, and it was Polly herself who told her to stand up for herself.

So really she was only behaving how Polly said she should.

So any rumours were all Polly's fault, and not anything Andi had done.

Which meant it was all good.

There was nothing going on, nothing between them. Andi could forget Paul just like that if she wanted, just so long as he didn't really forget her. He wouldn't really. Would he?

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

“No, they’re all at the theatre,” he chuckled. “The ones at the house are all Monthly Notices of the RAS. Old research journals,” he added, “they’re all available online now, so I really ought to clear them out.”

Yes, he ought to. Some of them were ten years old and he usually only read one or two papers in each of the 400 page volumes. They needed ridding.

"I could really do with a bookcase, actually. But only if you're sure?"

“OK,” he said, “how about I bring one round next Sunday and we try to squeeze it up those stairs? Then after, we go for lunch?”

Had he really just said that? A date? He was sure she would politely refuse.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"Ooh! Lunch! Sounds lovely!" and her eyes lit up and sparkled with delight.

Thinking more practically, she added, "Do you have a large one or a small one? Small would be easier to fit in, I suppose, but a big one is often better, don't you think? But we need it to fit, don't we? And either way, we'll have to manhandle it all the way up here?"

She looked round her room to try and figure out the best place for a bookcase.

"And I have to work out where to put it? That might take a bit of trial and error before we get it right?"

She glanced round the room again, at the window taking up one wall, at the furniture using most of the remaining space. She shrugged, postponing the problem.

"Anyway, enough of bookcases, where should we go for lunch? D'you think we might find a place that does a proper Sunday Roast?" Her enthusiasm waned quickly as she realised she was presuming he'd pay, and it might be a bit expensive. Not knowing how to rescue the situation, she went on, "unless of course you'd prefer somehing simpler?"

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Her enthusiastic acceptance of his offer was possibly not phrased in the best way, given his hindbrain’s tendency to twist thoughts in a certain direction as far as she was concerned.

"Do you have a large one or a small one? Small would be easier to fit in, I suppose, but a big one is often better, don't you think? But we need it to fit, don't we?”

Paul tried to hide his splutter in a cough. Thankfully, he hadn’t finished the water she had given him earlier. He drained the glass to ease the roughness in his throat. She was burbling on and looking at each wall in turn, obviously oblivious to the innuendo she had so carelessly delivered.

He was glad when she looked back at him and asked, ”Do you think we might find a place that does a proper Sunday Roast? Unless of course you'd prefer something simpler?"

“I don’t mind, we can go to the Devonshire Arms if you want but I don’t think it’s really your sort of place, especially at the weekend when it’s full of the holiday homers. If you want simpler, there’s a good Sunday carvery at the Craven Heifer. We won’t be getting dressed up, as I’ll need the old Land Rover to move the bookcase.”

He thought for a moment. Now that he’d decided to clear out the printed volumes of research papers, he wondered if he could spare one of his mismatched set of bookcases. A lightish one, say five or six shelves would be enough. Yes, he had one in mind that should be quite suitable.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"A carvery sounds perfect!"

Andrea was happy again. He'd be round next Sunday, it was a promise. That meant one week less for him to forget her. And she'd get a bookcase out of it, which was going to be quite handy. Not just any bookcase, either.

Again she glanced round the room, wondering where it could go.

"Would you able to help me move some furniture round to make space for it, once we bring it in up the stairs?" Andi noticed that Paul hadn't given her any idea how big the bookcase was. Maybe he hadn't worked out which one he might spare? In which case they still had no idea how much space to make available.

"I suppose until I actually see it, see what size it is, I won't know what to do with it. We can both of us work on getting it inside. You won't mind shoving it where it's supposed to go, will you?"

Sighing with satisfaction, she noticed that Paul had finished his water, and he seemed to have got a bit of a cough.

"Would you like more water? More fruitcake?" and she picked up his glass to refill it, placing it by his chair again before retaking her own seat. She wasn't too keen on him getting out of the chair and back in too often. It was a bit fragile for a man of his size and she didn't want to be reduced to one chair only. Then she'd have to offer the survivor to him, and in no time at all that would probably expire as well and then where would she be?

Andi was aware she was running out of reasons for keeping him there, but took comfort from next week's lunch forcing him to spend a decent amount of time with her. As long as Polly didn't find out and carry on with her silly notions.

"So what should I wear next Sunday for our lunch date?" she said lightly, thinking perhaps she should have said 'lunch appointment' but confident there was no way Paul would get the wrong idea. After all, it was obvious that Polly was completely wrong.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

That was lunch sorted, then. She had that soft radiance about her again, something that he couldn’t define but that he certainly recognised whenever she was happy.

She chirped away, nattering mostly to herself, but then her words jumped into focus again.

”Until I actually see it, see what size it is, I won't know what to do with it. We can both of us work on getting it inside. You won't mind shoving it where it's supposed to go?”

She couldn’t be doing it deliberately, surely she was too naïve? He doubted whether she had seen a fully grown man naked, had ever even taken a boy inside her.

She put another glass by his side and he took a large gulp of the cold fluid.

"So what should I wear next Sunday for our lunch date?"

“Something easy to move in and easy to scrub,” he replied, “the Land Rover’s none too clean. There’s probably dried mud on the seats. I’ll give it a wash for you, but don’t expect luxury.”

He looked around at the simple furnishings and felt the chair flex as he moved. That was something else he ought to think about if he really did have an open invitation to drop by. Was she serious about that? She was in his thoughts so often and he really wanted to know more about her. Could that opportunity be knocking?

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"Ok, I guess I can manage that! It's ok, I don't mind being dirty. Maybe after we've got it up and in and we're finished, I could find something suitable to wear? If you don't mind informal?"

A naughty thought drifted through her mind that what was easiest to move in and to scrub was her skin, and for a brief moment she pictured herself naked while helping Paul shift a bookcase from his muddy Land Rover up the stairs and into her bedsit. Thankfully there was no way he would even think such a thing, certainly not suggest it, and with the lightest of smiles twitching her lips she dismissed the idea, at least for now.

"So the carvery?" she asked, spinning out the conversation even though she really had nothing to say. She just liked him being there, liked hearing his deep growly voice. She got out of her chair again and put the kettle on, struggling to close the wonky cabinet door above, where the coffee and tea were.

"I really should get some tomato juice in, if you're gonna be dropping by regularly?" She threw it out to see his reaction. He had suggested himself that he might. If he told her not to bother she'd know he was only being polite. Andi tried not to show that his answer was suddenly important to her.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

She was restlessly hopping around the small flat again. He noticed that the cupboard door she was trying to close wasn’t hanging straight. Perhaps that needed fixing one Sunday?

"I really should get some tomato juice in, if you're gonna be dropping by regularly?"

“Any juice except grapefruit is OK. Tomato’s the lowest in sugar, but then there’s more salt. You can’t win. Low calcium water, milk, hot chocolate, Horlicks, Bovril, full sugar types of IrnBru, D&B, Vimto, Coke, except you can’t get Life anymore, sarsaparilla, cream soda, why does nobody do strawberryade?”

Regularly?

Not just Sundays, then. That would be a pleasure to look forward to, but perhaps he’d overstayed his welcome today?

“That would be very nice of you, Andi, and you really shouldn’t go to all that trouble, so maybe if you just wanted to get one type of juice and pop of some sort that would be plenty. Now I really ought to be off. Sunday’s usually laundry and I haven’t done any today. You need to get your head back in those books. See you Tuesday night?”

 

[AndreaSubbie]

"Tuesday night!" she agreed readily, bouncing lightly to her feet, trying not to grimace at the ominous creak from Paul's chair as he rather more carefully followed suit.

She saw him to the door of her bedsit and let him take the stairs by himself. Closing the door behind him she leant back against it and let out the quietest squeal of delight.

He wanted to keep coming by. They would have lunch together on Sunday. He wanted her at the Players on Tuesday. A foolish grin split her face, and she toyed with the idea of finding a charity shop and buying all the books she could from the bargain basket just so she'd need a second bookcase.

That would be silly, of course, as soon as he looked through the titles Paul would smell a rat, as they say.

But she needed to buy orange juice and cokes. Maybe that long life juice that doesn't need to be in the fridge until its opened? She thought they sold it in bargain packs of four? And she liked orange juice, so she could have some too.

"There, Polly, see? We're just friends, nothing happening."

And she skipped to the bathroom to shower and dress for her visit to the supermarket round the corner.

*****

Tuesday was her first day at the College, and returning home on the bus late afternoon Andi felt excited but worn out.

The Staff had been in on Monday getting ready, the Freshers like her were there today and a few older students acting as guides, and the rest of the student body would start later in the week.

But there was so much information to absorb. She had a bag full of handouts, leaflets, Guides, and a few little presents from the Students Union; a pen, pencil, and fluffy air freshener. She'd met the Professor and the Lecturers, seen the stables, visited the Veterinary School, and been talked at all day.

What she really wanted was to sit at home with her feet up. But she promised to be at the Theatre tonight.

So after a quick bite of toast and a coffee, she was back in the Theatre kitchen tidying up after Lee and putting things back in their right places.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

Mike

Mike watched as Paul swung his legs out of the old Triumph convertible and pressed his elbows onto the bodywork, thrusting himself forward and up. No matter how many times he saw the practiced routine, there was something incongruous about the big man getting in and out of the small, white car.

“Afternoon,” he called across.

“Hi, Mike,” Paul replied, manually locking the driver’s door. He lifted the electronic fob on the bunch of old, flat keys and pointed it at the theatre. There was a muted click and the flashing red light in the chunky box high on the wall turned green.

Mike climbed the four steps and pushed the door. Turning to the side, he released the latch on the cage behind the letterbox and took out the thin sheaf of correspondence. Even in these days of internet transfers and card payments, there were those in the rural communities who preferred to send a cheque for their booking. Electricity board, ’This is not a circular.’ Probably notice of the impending disruption last week. He opened the door of the office, walked across to the desk, dropped the post and sat in one of the old wooden chairs.

As Paul came into the room, he murmured quietly, “She’s very young, you know.”

Paul

The alarm repeater turned green, but his fob didn’t chirp. Paul made a mental note to call his brother after six, the second-hand security system was a collection of components which Shorrock’s large and generally secretive clients had exchanged for upgraded versions and sometimes they needed a little TLC. Maybe he would be free on Thursday evening, the 14 miles from Burnley didn’t take him long.

Following Mike into the building, Paul opened the door into the Green Room and switched the lights on before stepping back across the foyer to the office.

Mike’s barely audible words punched him in the stomach.

“Is everyone gossiping behind my back now?” he enquired.

”No, but you know how shrewd Polly is. She says there’s something about Andi when she’s near you, a combination of fear and fascination, like you’d get near a tiger loose in the garden of a mansion. You’re different, too. Your eyes follow her everywhere and Polly says you’re rewriting the Emperor.”

“So now I’m a bloody circus animal,” he rumbled. “Maybe I’ll rewrite the sodding Dame so she’s eaten by a bloody tiger.”

His old friend sat quietly.

“OK, she’s bloody young. It happens, there are plenty of May to Decembers out there, especially in theatreland.”

”Yes, but you’re not some rich, metropolitan sugar daddy. We’re out in the sticks here and it’s not your conventional Dales coupling.”

Footsteps in the foyer cut short any reply he was about to make. The last thing he needed was any of the Knitters to hear their discussion and take it back to the Circle.

 

[AndreaSubbie]

Andi was singing happily to herself a fairly nondescript nothing while she had a good look at the tidy mess in the kitchen.

Hm. Lee had left it clean, ish, but hadn't put things back in the sensible places. Her sensible places. The tea and coffee supplies were way too high up, she could barely reach. Other things meant leaning too far across the counter tops. He'd put heavy stuff where it would need lifting instead of sliding. Lee might be good at electrical and mechanical stuff, but his abilities were clearly limited. The low fridge, opposite the doorway, had out of date milk in it.

It was good to know she was needed.

She was also Happy. Her first day at the College had gone well, not that she'd had to do much other than listen. She was needed at the Theatre. Their very next production, no their Current production had a stage role for her in it as the indomitable slave girl, spirit of defiant womanhood. She still hadn't read the script properly other than a cursory glance, but she got the idea of two worlds colliding and the Feminist angle. She could hardly wait for her bit.

And then, Paul seemed to want her around still. At least, he seemed to. He did indicate on Sunday that he did. So yeah, probably he still wanted her around. But that had been two whole days ago. He might have forgotten her already? And she'd gone and got the juice and coke ready for him. Oh well, she could always drink it herself if he never came round again.

He probably wouldn't forget Sunday, because he kept appointments. She'd never heard anyone suggest otherwise. But they did have a lovely time on Sunday morning just sitting in her little place. Well, she had a good time, anyway. And there was nothing going on so it didn't matter, did it?

But she'd still dressed carefully in the stretch jeans that seemed draw eyes to her legs and behind, and a green tight t shirt and lifting bra that made her small boobs look a bit bigger and older.

As she paused in her singing she could hear rumbly voices from the office, and put the kettle on ready to take through to the Green room.

She looked again in the fridge. And sighed.

Bending at her hips like she'd been taught is good for the back, she rummaged through the salad box at the base of the fridge, fishing out all the produce that was likely to turn to mush before very long.

 

[TheWorldBuilder]

The five way conversation had reached that point where things had begun to circle. Their interpretations of the ‘habeas corpus’ implicit in Evans’ script led to alternate versions of the statement reveal. Paul exited the verbal roundabout gently, but firmly. The primary déshabillé would be masked and Andi would have a moment to adjust to her semi-nudity before the guard Captain’s movement fully exposed her. His decision made and accepted, the small group made their way through into the Green Room. None of them would say a word to Andrea, it was the Director’s prerogative to guide his cast.

Paul noticed the change instantly. Her perky cones were squashed upwards somehow. They were a balloonish parody of breasts, that belonged in a tenth-hand film copied too many times from a grainy VHS bootleg. He wistfully recalled the first time he had visited her little flat, when she had dressed in the middle of a hangover and forgotten a bra. That was how her cute mounds should sit on her chest.

“Right,” Paul announced, “five sets for this one but all with a common theme, so we can make painted flats and swap them around at each change. The forum has to look large, we’ll have a forced perspective backdrop for that one. Everything else is woodland or indoor.”

Chatter built as the experienced stagehands took his vision and discussed how they would realise it from timber, screws, paint and lighting.

Paul glanced back at Andi, “First we have to build you a town.”