Situation Tragedy Read Online Free PDF Page B

than television.
    But he didn’t keep his exclusive hold on her for long. Robin Laughton, the hearty Floor Manager, who appeared now to be in a lager-drinking situation, joined them. Charles found two people talking about television more than he could take, and slipped away to rejoin Gerald.
    On his way across, he was accosted by another familiar figure. It was Walter Proud, who had produced Charles’s previous, and ill-fated, excursion into West End Television comedy.
The New Barber and Pole Show.
He had lost more hair and there was a wildness in his eyes. ‘Hello, Charles, how’d the show go?’
    Charles shrugged. ‘Those who know about such things seem to think it was okay.’
    â€˜Great, great. If you’re going over to talk to Nigel Frisch, I’ll join you.’
    Something rang warning bells for Charles. ‘Well, no, I wasn’t particularly . . . What are you working on here?’
    â€˜Nothing right now, actually. Got one or two projects sort of around, but, er, nothing right now.’ The confession was transparent. Walter Proud was out of work. He’d left his BBC staff job a few years before, and since then had a discontinuous sequence of short contracts with the various commercial companies. ‘No. actually. I came down here to see a few chums, see if there was anything going.’
    â€˜Any luck?’
    â€˜Don’t think so. I had a word with a girl who was my PA on something I did here, girl called Sadie Wainwright, but she . . . No, there doesn’t seem to be much around.’
    Walter’s dismal tone suggested that Sadie had choked him off rather in the same way she had everyone else.
    â€˜Oh well, something’ll turn up,’ said Charles blandly.
    â€˜Hope so. Actually, if you are going across to see Nigel Frisch –’
    But Charles was saved embarrassment by the arrival of Scott Newton. The young man looked awful. He had no colour, and his face gleamed with a fine sweat. ‘Hello, Charles,’ he cried, with a sad attempt at conviviality. ‘Lovely performance. Can I get you a drink?’
    â€˜I think I’d better get you one. You look terrible.’
    â€˜No, I’m okay now. Had some sort of bilious bug, don’t know, must have been something I ate.’
    Charles caught the sour whiff of the young man s breath. He had obviously just been very sick. Something he’d eaten . . . or, more likely, just the nervous pressures of the day.
    â€˜By the way, do you know Walter Proud? You’re both BBC renegades, so perhaps you’ve . . .’
    But no, they hadn’t. Charles introduced them.
    â€˜You came after the big money too, did you?’ asked Walter ironically.
    Scott replied in the same tone. ‘Bigger, maybe, but not big enough. I seem to have even less since I made the move.’
    â€˜If that’s the case, then let me buy you a drink.’
    â€˜No, no, things aren’t that bad.’
    They argued a bit, but Walter didn’t need much convincing and Scott walked unsteadily to the bar.
    â€˜And he’s directing you, Charles?’ The question was incredulous.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜God, kids like that get jobs, while people with experience . . . If I had my way –’
    But Charles never found out what would happen if Walter Proud had his way. The door from the fire escape into the bar suddenly burst open to admit Mort Verdon, waving his arms and screaming.
    He was making so much noise that everyone was distracted and gathered round him, trying to find out the cause of his agitation.
    Charles and Robin Laughton understood at the same moment that it was something he had seen outside on the fire escape, and rushed to the door. Most of the rest of the crowd followed.
    It was after half-past ten and dark outside. Charles look down the fire escape, but could see nothing untoward. The car park below was shrouded in darkness.
    Then a departing member of West End