by Stan Mason
Waverley glanced at the script still holding one hand around Paula’s neck and he whispered to her as loudly as he could. ‘Not a word! Do you hear? Not a word!’
‘What are you doing?’ ordered Matthews. ‘Let her go!’
‘If you know what’s good for you, mon ami, you’ll stay out of it!’
‘Let her go!’ The repeated command echoed loudly in the rehearsal room.
‘This is a lover’s quarrel! Go back to fighting the Revolution!’ continued the banker acting as Armand in a firm tone.
‘You fool!’ snapped Paula, as Camille, acting at her best to impress the Director. ‘Lover’s quarrel! We were washed up long ago, Armand! Wake up to reality!’
‘I’m taking Camille back to England with me,’ declared Matthews curtly. ‘And don’t try to stop us!’
They continued the dialogue a little longer near to the end of the scene until the Director stopped them. ‘That’s good... good! The dialogue continues... you fight with swords...’
‘I’ve never used a sword,’ cut in Waverley pointlessly.
‘You don’t have to because you haven’t got the part, Mr. Waverley.’ countered the Director strongly. ‘If I may be allowed to proceed. After the fight in which Roger is badly wounded and believed to have been killed, Armand ’ arrested by the police on a a charge of murder although Roger’s not dead. You then go on to your song, Camille. Don’t forget that you’ve fallen in love with Roger, You believe him to be dead and you‘re pining for him.’ He turned to the pianist and nodded. ’Okay, Norman... music for ’Love lost is such a precious thing!’
The pianist began to play and Paula started to sing a mournfully romantic song. As soon as she had finished, the Director clapped his hands with delight.
‘Very well done!’ he commended brightly. ‘I see we have a new leading lady in the cast for future productions. Where did you learn to sing like that?’
‘My mother was a professional singer,’ she explained briefly.
‘Well she certain taught you well. Very well done!‘’
He was about to turn away when she took him gently by the arm. ‘Would you consider giving Mr. Waverley the understudy part for Armand?’ she went on hoping to help her new-found friend.
The Director didn‘t need to give the suggestion any thought whatsoever. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ came the negative reply. Although Neil’s been in a number of productions, he’s never auditioned for a speaking part. He’s an unknown factor for any serious role so, for this production anyway, he’ll have to be satisfied with a walk-on part. If he wants to audition for a role in the next play... well that’s up to him.’ He moved towards some actors to play the next scene. ’Right!’ he told them smartly. ‘Let’s do the Revolutionary scene once more. Make it noisy and as it’s the last one we’ll do tonight, don’t forget to be on time next Wednesday. I want a full cast here... on time!’
As they left the building shortly afterwards, Paula felt somewhat deflated. As far as she was concerned, there was no serious problem with the banker undertaking a supporting role as the understudy for Armand. However the Director had considered otherwise and quite clearly it was not going to be.
Waverley, on the other hand was very impressed with Paula for her acting and singing.
‘You’re very good,’ he commended as they left the building.
‘It was the song,’ she said humbly. ‘It’s has a haunting melody and it’s really beautiful.’
‘It was worth coming along this evening just to hear you sing. I’m glad you made me change my mind.’
‘I’m only sorry that he wouldn’t give you the chance to understudy that part.’ she told him sadly.
‘You can’t blame him,’ came the response. ‘He was right. I’ve never auditioned for any part in the past... not in all the productions I’ve been in. I’ve always been a walk-on actor and I suppose I always will be.’
‘Don’t put yourself down!’ she reproached gently. ‘You have it in your to take on speaking parts and to do them well. We’ll have to wait for the next production to show them what you’re made of.’
He smiled at her optimism but he didn’t feel that he could take on any speaking role except for a very small one. He loved acting but it was not in his nature to develop his acting skills any further.
‘How about coming for a drink?’ she suggested, hoping to spend the rest of the evening with him.
’I really should go home,’ he responded although it was the last thing he really wanted to do. Everything in his house reminded him of Elizabeth and it was turning out to be a prison in which he was incarcerated.
’Why?’ she enquired. The house is empty. There’s no one else there. You know what you’re doing. You’re still thinking that your wife is there waiting for you but she’s not. It ‘s the process of conditioning. Just like Pavlov’s theory. We become habitually conditioned in what we do and you can’t get it out of your mind that she’s not there to welcome you or to make dinner for you. You have to understand that you’re a free man now... you can do as you want. She won’t be there for you any more. Cut the ties of the past and move on.’
He considered her views about his life carefully for a few brief moments and then nodded. ‘You’re right. There’s nothing to go home for. It’s something I have to get my head around. I remember Pavlov’s theory with rats. They all became conditioned to routine and human-beings follow that example. Okay‘ he concluded, ‘let’s go for that drink!’
They drove to a nearby inn and sat facing each other across a table with their drinks in front of them. He stared directly into her eyes thoughtfully before breaking the ice.
‘You know you don’t have to do this,’ he told her candidly. ‘I may seem hopeless to you at the present time but I can manage.’
‘Manage to do what?’ she responded.
‘You needn’t hold me by the hand all the time in my hour of need. I’ll be all right on my own. I mean to say I appreciate what you’re doing, but it’s not necessary.’
‘The jury’s out on that one. Regard me as your Guardian Angel sent from Heaven to look after you.’
‘I’m not like a bird attacked by a cat that you have to mother,’ he said unkindly.
She disregarded the comment and sallied forward grimly. ‘I would say you were definitely attacked by a cat”’ There was silence as he failed to respond and she leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. ‘I want you to come to lunch with me tomorrow,’ she proposed wondering if he would agree.
‘Why should you want to do that?’ he asked, surprised at her request.
She paused thinking that he was going to refuse. ‘I have a few things I want to go through with you.’
‘Such as what?’ he enquired tersely.
‘From what I understand, you really didn’t know your wife too well otherwise you would have known that she was having an affair with another man.’ Her comment was scathing and she felt that she needed to start toughing a few nerves in order to energise the man back to normality. ‘Come to lunch with me. I’ll explain it all then. You’ll be really interested in what I have to say,’ she told him as though she hadn’t insulted him.
He tossed the idea around in his mind. The woman was getting a little too close to him for his liking. He was grieving for his wife as though she was dead and Paula Stratton was starting to make ostensible demands of him. However, he had nothing else more important to do and there was little that should could do if they had lunch together, although he decided that it would be a one-off episode. ‘Very well,’ he returned slowly. ‘I’ll come only because I’m intrigued in what you have to tell me. ’
’I’m intrigued myself,’ she went on, ’and I’m sure you will be too. You see there’s a strange series of events which rules our lives. We don’t understand the paranormal but it does exist and we sail
along in a rough sea like a series of bobbing corks with each sudden change of the tide.’
He had no idea what she was talking about but he pursued the matter regardless. ’What do you mean?’ he asked inquisitively.
’That’s for me to know and for you to find out,’ she teased nonsensically. ’Let’s wait until tomorrow. You may well be surprised. Finish your drink and I’ll drive you home!’
They left the inn and climbed into the car. She turned to him before starting the engine.
’I like you Neil Waverley,’ she told him frankly. ’You’re my kind of man but I think you’re too good to be bad.’
’At the moment,’ he responded, disregarding the second part of her comment. ’I don’t feel like anyone’s man.’
‘Time’s the great healer,’ she went on. ‘Leave it to time! I can feel that we’re on the brink of success. I can feel it in my bones.’
He stared at her bleakly without understanding what she meant as she started the engine and then drove quickly away from the inn. Paula Stratton began to believe that the items on her agenda were beginning to fall into place and it pleased her greatly As she had told him... it was all a matter of time!
***
There are a number of divining elements in the human psyche which prove to be extremely destructive in mankind. They range from belligerent attitudes beyond reason causing wars to rage in different parts of the world, at the same time relating to the belief in principled causes which, in the light of day and within the realms of history, do not amount to a hill of beans. Yet people have such different views on everything that exists which goes against justice and the progression of safe conduct in the lives of men and women on the planet today. Such is the diversity of views that there is the story of a committee which started off with two motions to choose from and, after a full discussion with all the members in attendance, they ended up with five motions. That’s exactly how politicians in the world react in their normal daily business lives and it’s the fate of the masses of population to adhere to whatever they agree to legislate.
One of the most pernicious elements that prevails in mankind is that of ambition. For many, it is a means of moving up the ladder of success in whatever organisation or body in which they commit themselves. In many cases, it is mostly an ideal in the mind of the individual... a passive desire to progress and become more noticed, to attain a higher position in the ranks, and perhaps even to be able to control other people in their work. For those people, there is an inherent desire to reach the top of the tree at any cost often becoming an obsession for which other parts of their lives are ignored to achieve their aim. If it means treading on the toes of other people, or even forcing them to sacrifice their positions, they regard such heinous activity as an act of Fate. To them, any means necessary to gain promotion is worthwhile however much it may affect other people.
Nothing of that kind was any different at the Prescot Bank, an internationally large bank with its main branch in the centre of London in which Neil Waverley was the Assistant Manager. It was founded in 1803 by Jacob Prescot who, over a period of time, absorbed a number of smaller banks to become a world-wide renowned organisation. It now owned eight hundred-and-seventy branches in the United Kingdom with many more spread around the globe and it enjoyed a very high reputation by every authority at home and abroad. To reach the appointment of a manager in Prescot Bank was a highly desirable position to attain and Ernest Crozier had managed by stealth to have done just that. He was very bright... an ex-university student who had passed all his banking examinations fairly quickly. At the age of thirty-three, he was promoted to become the head of the Foreign Department in its major branch in the City of London but that was hardly the post at which he wanted to remain for the next few years. Ambition drove him to think of a higher rank, such as Assistant Manager, and he made plans to try to wrest the appointment away from Waverley. In the reality of life at the bank, such a role would not be possible to attain for at least five years but he wasn’t willing to wait that long. As a high-flier in a very mature profession which continued its operations very solemnly, he was very much disliked by many other members of staff because of his easy-going flexible outward attitude towards the work. It was almost as though he didn’t care about it much of the time making decisions quite casually although al of his decisions seemed to come out all right, Some of the bank staff considered his attitude to be modern and refreshing; most of them condemned it as unprofessional and against the spirit of good behaviour in banking. After all, to them, banking was a very serious operation, one not to be taken lightly. Regardless of their views abut him, Crozier’s agenda worked out that he could be as high as number three in the bank in twenty years if he pressed hard enough and used methods to enhance his promotion, speeding it up rapidly. He would be fifty-three years of age by then with another twelve years to reach the top. At least that was what he hoped would happen. The problem was to find the right method to employ to enhance his chances of achieving his aim, With that in mind, he buzzed for his assistant, Tony Abbott to come to his office.
He stood up and went to the window looking skywards as his subordinate entered.
‘Know anything about clouds, Abbott?’ he asked, although the question was rhetoric. ‘I can’t tell the difference between a cirrus cumulus to a mackerel sky.’ He turned to face the other man and sat down in his swivel executive chair, placing the tips of his fingers together. ‘Sit down, Abbott. I want a private word with you.’ The junior obeyed the order and sat facing him. ‘Are you a loyal person?’ he asked him point-blank as though firing a pistol at his head.
The subordinate stared at him bleakly surprised at the question. ‘Loyal?’ he repeated. ‘To whom? To the bank, to my wife, to you?’
‘I’ve noticed Abbott that you tend to answer my questions with other questions It’s a very bad habit. You need to do something about it,’
‘If you mean am I loyal to the bank... well of course I am. Although I have to add that if they stopped paying me my salary, I wouldn’t come in any more.’ He laughed at his own joke but it failed to amuse his superior. There was a short pause before he continued. ‘Of course I’m loyal to you as well. We’re all part of a team.’
‘Is that your honest reply?’ asked Crozier, his eyes penetrating those of the other man like shafts of light.
‘Without doubt!’ exclaimed Abbott vociferously hoping to have struck the right note. ‘I’m definitely loyal to you, sir.’ He felt extremely uncomfortable at the questions and his judgement meant that he had to err on the right side.
‘Would you lay down your life for me, Abbott?’
The junior stared at the senior officer with his eyes wide open. What sort of a question was that? He had come into the office to discuss banking business. Suddenly he was faced with a barrage of nonsensical personal questions which could only be considered inflammatory. If he answered them correctly, it wouldn’t help him at all; however if he replied incorrectly, he would be condemned.
‘I wouldn’t put it that far,’ he answered with an element of concern. His ambitions were fairly low but he didn’t wish to ruin his future chance of promotion by responding with the wrong answers. He needed to be very diplomatic.
‘Well at least you’re honest,’ returned Crozier easily. ‘What if I made a proposition to you that was extremely outrageous?’
Abbott began to feel even more uncomfortable. He had always doubted the outward attitude of his superior, noticing that sometimes his methods of operation often appeared to be strange and, in particular, they always seemed to be for the personal benefit of the man. Now he was being faced with something out of the ordinary and he was concerned for his position in the bank if it went wrong.
‘I’d have to consider it at length,’ he returned thoughtfully, hoping that it wasn’t too outrageous to perform. ‘I’d go along with it if it’s not illegal,’
Crozier burst into laughter. ‘I don’t think I’d ask you to do anything illegal,’ he returned, pausing before continuing. ‘I’ve been watching you closely for some time, Abbott. How much can I trust you?’
‘One hundred per cent, sir,’ retorted the subordinate quickly.
‘To the extent of corporate suicide?’
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.’ The junior man was now becoming seriously worried with alarm bells ringing in his head.
‘I’m talking about a situation which could promote you to the next level in the bank but there may be risks to be taken on the way. How do you feel about that?’
Abbott began to feel relieved to a certain extent at the suggestion. He had been a clerk at the branch for four years and promotion would be gladly accepted. However, he was concerned about the risks he would have to take in the process that was about to be revealed.
‘It sounds interesting,’ he advanced eagerly. ‘What do you have in mind?’
Crozier swung away in his chair towards the window again. ‘Maybe we shouldn’t be having this discussion right now,’ he said having second thoughts about the matter.
However the tables had turned because the subordinate was sufficiently intrigued to hear more about the prospect of promotion. ‘Maybe we should discuss it now,’ he uttered, hoping that the senior man would continue. There was a further pause and he became more bolder in his attitude. ‘Are you playing games with me, Mr. Crozier?’
The senior banker swivelled back in his chair to face him. ’I understand I’m disliked by many of my peers at this branch because of my flare and easy modern attitude. You see, I’m not like the rest of the dull boring bankers with the way they treat customers and their solemnity in banking business. I’m flexible and that galls them. They realise that, with my casual attitude, I can do the work better than them and they hate me for it.’