Break a Leg, Darlings

by Marian Babson

  'Don't!' The man's dialogue was a bit limited, so he was trying to make up for that by a lot of body language or, as we used to say, chewing the scenery. Not that there was much scenery to chew in this production. He grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her back towards the sofa. I wouldn't like to have her bruises in the morning.

  The 'mist' was hot on his heels, rolling across the stage ankle-deep and rising, spreading out in all directions. In the front row, someone stifled a cough.

  'It's waiting out there in the mist ...' She was over-optimistic, if you ask me, considering that the mist was rapidly engulfing them where they stood.

  'Imagination!' The man cast a worried look over his shoulder, obviously the script did not call for the mist to advance so rapidly.

  I followed his gaze, to find the shadowy figures disappearing into the fog at their end. One of them appeared to be on his knees, wrestling with the orifice of the machine, trying to point it in another direction. The other figure was bent over it, hands clenched into fists and hammering silently at it. It continued to belch out smoke, fog and mist with even more enthusiasm than before.

  The actors were hip-deep in the stuff now and fighting panic as they realized they might soon be invisible. Worse, the uncontrolled fog was eddying out into the auditorium, threatening the audience. There were more coughs, not so stifled this time, and the rustle of feet shifting uneasily.

  'Don't thwart me, Ephraim!' The voice soared out, as though realizing that soon it might be the only beacon in the disappearing surroundings. The mist was waist-high now; it was a solid rolling bank of fog at our end of the stage.

  'You'll not open the door!' he shouted. 'You'll not let that mist into the house!'

  That raised a few titters, since there was now not a corner to which the mist had not penetrated. I saw several inhalers being produced and wielded with varying degrees of surreptitiousness. Other people began dabbing at their suddenly teary eyes.

  In the wings, it was all hands to the pump. Two more figures, not bothering with any attempt at camouflage, had joined the original two dark shadows. They all battled with the smoking contraption, but the only thing clear was that they were doomed to lose the battle.

  'Air!' I gasped, beginning to choke as the mist enveloped us. 'I need air. I'm getting out of here!' I dashed for the exit sign, which was already blurred, losing all brightness and definition in the rising fog.

  There were footsteps immediately behind me. Juanita, I presumed. She wasn't one to stay and suffer when there was a means of escape close by. I wondered if Evangeline was so pleased with her choice of seat now.

  I plunged down the stairs and kept on going, across the saloon bar, which I could barely see through streaming eyes, out of the door leading to the street, and to the edge of the pavement before I stopped under the street lamp, half sobbing and gasping in the clear fresh air.

  'There you are!' a voice roared behind me. 'I've got you, you scheming bitch! Now you're for it!'

  Long, thin, icy fingers closed around my neck and tightened like a coil of steel.

  13

  I raised my hands to claw feebly at the relentless hands tightening around my throat, cutting off my breath. Why had I trimmed my fingernails the other day? I was helpless. I felt consciousness begin to slip away from me.

  I heard a shout from what seemed a long distance away and the sound of running feet. Then a babble of voices, but so far away ... so far away ...

  'See here, what do you think you're doing?' It was Adam's voice, faint and lightweight, half afraid to offend anyone – even a killer. 'See here, old man, calm down and let's talk this over.'

  'UNHAND THAT WOMAN!' The bellow of rage loosened the fingers that had been intent on strangling me.

  Beau, I recognized thankfully. Dear old Beau, presented with a situation he had faced in myriad films, knew just what to do when he saw a frail blonde being menaced.

  I felt the hands being wrenched away from my neck. I opened my eyes in time to see Dorsal Finn being raised bodily off the ground and held aloft.

  'Don't you –' For good measure, Beau began shaking him. 'Ever. Ever. Put your dirty hands on one of my friends again!'

  He raised Dorsal still higher and hurled him across the road. There was a thud as Dorsal hit the ground and lay motionless.

  'I say!' an awestruck voice whispered.

  'They said he never used a double in his action shots.' Vic whistled softly. 'He didn't need to. He still doesn't.'

  'Oh, Beau!' I fought for breath and gazed at him incredulously. 'You saved my life!' I hoped he didn't notice the unflattering amazement in my voice; I didn't mean it that way. I was just so astounded. And thankful.

  'Aw, shucks!' Beau could do the rest of the dialogue for this scene in his sleep. 'It was nothin', ma'm. Trixie.'

  'He can't be the age they give in the record books.' Ledbetter's emotions seemed thoroughly mixed, admiration and jealousy and an odd note of complaint. 'It must be true, what they say about theatre people: first they take years off to make themselves younger, then they add years on to get credit for being so spry when they're so old.' He seemed to be having a problem with the thought.

  'It was wonderful, Beau.' I didn't grudge him his accolade. 'You were wonderful! You're a hero!'

  'He is always a hero, my Beauregard,' Juanita purred, curling against him like a cat.

  'Aw, shucks,' Beau said again. He kept his head lowered modestly, but I'll swear his chest expanded at least six inches. He put his arm around Juanita, losing track of which woman he had rescued.

  Not that I wanted a romantic clinch with Beau. Across the street, I saw Dorsal roll over on to his stomach and begin to crawl away slowly. I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want another scene with him, either.

  Behind us, coughing and spluttering, the rest of the audience was spewing out on to the pavement. It was too early for the interval; it looked like everybody else was abandoning ship, too.

  'What's happened?' Evangeline reeled over to us, picking up on the atmosphere immediately. 'What have I missed?'

  'Nothin', really.' Beau was still being modest.

  'Beau has been wonderful.' I gave him his due.

  'He has?' Evangeline regarded us sharply, then decided that Juanita was looking far too contented for her first interpretation of the dialogue to be correct. 'In what way?'

  'I'll tell you later,' I said.

  'Let's get outa here,' Beau said. 'I've had enough of tonight. I never shoulda let you talk me into this. Although it was damn lucky for Trixie that I did.'

  'You can say that again,' I agreed. I could have died while our English hosts were trying to use sweet reasonableness on Dorsal.

  'Home,' Juanita throbbed, arching against Beau. 'Yes, I want to take my hero home ... and bathe his wounds ... and tell him how wonderful he is ... and sing him to sleep.'

  Suddenly, I saw how she had stayed married to him all these years, despite her ruined face. When the lights are out...

  'TAXI!' Beau waved his arm at a taxi cruising down the street. 'Come on, all you girls –' He herded us into the taxi. 'Let's go home.'

  'How are you feeling?' Evangeline asked when I appeared in the kitchen late the next morning.

  'How do you expect?' I rubbed gingerly at my sore throat and slumped into a chair at the table.

  'I made hot chocolate for you.' Evangeline filled a cup at the stove and brought the steaming fragrant brew over to me. 'Use lots of cream. It will be good for your throat.'

  'We've got to get that damned dog back.' I had been giving the matter some thought in the wakeful moments between nightmares all night. 'Or that maniac will kill us both.'

  'Never mind that.' Evangeline had her own agenda. 'Lucy and Nova have walked off with my play.'

  'The Irishman's dog and your play.' A gloomy foreboding swept over me. 'Your unfinished play. They'll be lying low now until Lucy finishes it.' By which time, they would probably hope that we would have forgotten all about the dog. 'We may never see the
m again.'

  The thought should have cheered me, but it seemed as though nothing could do that this morning. I looked down at my cup of chocolate; it smelled delicious. I took a small sip; my throat said yes, my stomach said no. I put the cup down again.

  'Would you like some toast?' Evangeline was watching me, a trace anxiously.

  I shook my head. The thought of rough scratchy toast – I raised my hand to my throat.

  'You could dunk it,' she suggested. 'That would soften it, so that you could manage it, all soft and squidgy –'

  I pushed back my chair and dashed for the bathroom ...

  When I returned, Evangeline surveyed me critically. 'There are bruises on your throat.'

  'I'm not surprised.' I perched on the end of my chair, not sure how long I was going to sit there. The smell of the chocolate wafted up to my nostrils and suddenly it didn't smell so good any more. I pushed at my cup. 'For heaven's sake, take this away!'

  'Would you like anything else?' Evangeline whisked it out of sight. 'Tea? Coffee?'

  I shuddered.

  'Should I call the doctor?'

  'We don't have a doctor.'

  'I'll ring Jasper. He must know of one around here.' She started for the phone.

  'Stop fussing and sit down!' I don't often snap and she almost fell into her chair with surprise. She looked at me closely.

  'Everyone is entitled to an off day,' she said.

  'Thanks!' Especially after they'd been throttled, not to mention all that smoke inhalation.

  'Why don't you go back to bed?'

  'I ... might ... just ... do that.' The idea held a lot of appeal. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest, even if I didn't sleep.

  'And take a couple of aspirins. Soluble ones,' she added quickly as I raised a hand to protest. 'You can drink those down without any difficulty.'

  'Soluble aspirin ...' I tested the idea gingerly. There was no strong response one way or the other from my stomach. 'I suppose that can't do any harm.'

  She mixed the aspirin and brought it to me. I was just raising the glass to my lips when the telephone rang, startling me so that I nearly dropped the glass.

  'You plugged it in again!' I accused, almost whimpering.

  'I'll get it.' The grim set of Evangeline's mouth boded ill for any caller who was looking for a fight – or a dog.

  'Oh, it's you.' I heard her voice relax, then change into a differently aggressive tone. 'I suppose you're not calling to tell us that Hugh has found a play for us? Or a theatre?'

  'Martha!' I found new strength to bring me to my feet and carry me into the living room. 'All right, Evangeline, I'll take it.'

  'No, I thought not.' She swerved, evading my outstretched hand.

  'It's for me. Give it to me!' I lunged for the phone, but was brought up sharply by a stitch in my side.

  'Evangeline –' I sank down on the sofa, clutching at my side. 'Give me the phone.'

  'I don't know why your mother wants to speak to you,' Evangeline said coldly. 'No play. No theatre. You have nothing to say to us.'

  I caught hold of the cord and yanked the receiver from her hand. 'Martha, darling, how are you?'

  'Mother! I was afraid that wretched creature wasn't going to let me speak to you. I've been trying to reach you for days. Where have you been?'

  'Oh ... in and out ... round and about,' I said vaguely. 'We're doing a lot of theatre-going these evenings.' It sounded better than pub-crawling.

  'That explains it. I've been ringing in the evenings; I'm so busy during the day, getting the children settled at school, redoing the house, meeting Hugh for lunch with his friends ...' She sounded so happy.

  'That's all right, dear. I know you're busy.' Evangeline was making faces again. I turned my back to her.

  'Tell her not to bother wasting any of her valuable time on us –' Evangeline pitched her voice to carry. 'And that goes for her precious husband, too. We're finding our own show.'

  'What was that?' Martha cried. 'What did she say? It was something nasty, wasn't it?'

  'It usually is,' I sighed. 'Look, Evangeline –' I turned back to her. 'Why don't you –?'

  'All right, all right. I'm just leaving.' Evangeline threw up her hands. 'I have better things to do than stand around listening to boring conversations. I'm going out.'

  'Where?' I was instantly suspicious. 'No, no, not you, Martha. Just a minute, I'm saying something to Evangeline.'

  'I hope it's goodbye!' Martha snapped.

  'Out,' Evangeline said. 'Just ... out.' She gave me her most maddening smile.

  'Evangeline! You're not to go anywhere near Kilburn! It isn't safe! Besides, Nova and Lucy don't live there – they're farther out. Nova said so – and she didn't specify in which direction.'

  'Mother! What's going on? Are you all right? What do you mean, not safe?'

  'It's all right, Martha. Nothing's wrong.' I tried to soothe her and keep track of Evangeline at the same time.

  Ignoring my protestations, Evangeline vanished into her bedroom and returned wearing her coat and drawing on her gloves. She made a beeline for the door.

  'Wait a minute –' I called after her. 'Let me get dressed. I'm coming with you.'

  'You're not well enough.' She paused at the door and looked back. 'Have a nice gossip with Martha and then go back to bed.'

  'No, wait –' But the door closed behind her and she was gone. In the perverse way that such things happen, I immediately heard the clash of the lift doors and the whine of the motor. Today of all days, It had to be waiting at our floor to facilitate her escape.

  'Mother, what is it?' Martha's anxious voice recalled me to the moment.

  'Nothing, dear.' There was no point in worrying her; there was nothing she could do about it, either. 'Evangeline has just gone out ... to do some errands.'

  Abstractedly, I watched the front door TV monitor as Evangeline left the building, just as Nigel was about to enter. They stopped to talk and I saw Evangeline curl a predatory hand around his arm as she gazed into his eyes and spoke earnestly. He nodded his head with a slightly glazed look and together they walked out of range of the monitor.

  'Now, darling.' I turned back to Martha with a feeling of relief. Evangeline had found herself an escort for the afternoon. 'Tell me how the children are settling down in school ...'

  I felt a lot better by the time we finished our conversation, perhaps even well enough to have some tea and toast before retiring for a nap. My stomach stayed quite calm at this thought; it didn't lurch until the telephone rang again abruptly.

  'Yes, dear?' I picked it up with a false sense of security, having instantly convinced myself that Martha must have remembered something else she wanted to tell me.

  'Flee for yer lives, I'm warning yer! Himself is on the loose and out of control!'

  'Brendan.' It could be no one else. 'Thank you for the warning, but you're a little late. I had a run-in with Dorsal Finn last night.'

  'And you're alive to tell the tale?' he marvelled. 'Sure, you must have the luck of the Irish yourself. He was that furious, I was sure he'd kill.'

  'He did his best.' I stroked my throat lightly. 'If he ever comes near me – or Evangeline — again, I'll see to it that he spends a very long time in jail.'

  'Ah, now, you wouldn't do that? He's just high-spirited, is all. And don't forget, you started it. It was all your fault. You never should have done it.'

  'We did nothing!' Sheer irritation straightened my back and quickened my breathing. I realized I was beginning to feel a lot better. 'That man attacked me without cause or provocation!'

  "'Cause", say you? "Provocation", say you? That depends on how you look at it. I'd say no one has the right to come between a man and his dog.'

  'Come between? That dog made its own choice – and a damned sensible one, I'd say! We didn't ask it to follow us. We didn't give it any encouragement at all. We didn't even know it was there. When we discovered it, we tried to send it back. Nova and Lucy were supp
osed to deliver it back to him. Try finding them and you'll get Tex back.'

  'Nova who? And Lucy who?'

  He had me there. I realized that I couldn't remember their last names if, indeed, I had ever known them. Perhaps Evangeline knew, but she wasn't here now.

  'You shouldn't have any trouble finding out who they are and where they live.' A counterattack is the best defence. 'You live here and you know more about the pub scene than we do.'

  'And Tex, is it now?' A change of subject to deflect the attack isn't bad, either. 'If the poor miserable creature is nothing to you, since when have you taken it upon yourself to change his name?'

  'Since anyone could see "the poor miserable creature" cringe every time anyone called him "The Semtex". It was a damned stupid name for a dog – you ought to have been reported to the RSPCA!'

  'Ah, now. Ah, now.' He recanted hastily. "Twas Himself as named him. You've got to make allowances for the artistic temperament.'

  'No, I haven't. Especially when there's no artistry in it.'

  'You think not?' He didn't sound as though the thought came as a complete shock to him. 'You don't acknowledge Dorsal Finn as one of the great undiscovered geniuses of our time, then?'

  I let the silence build while I mentally debated the choice between giving him the horse-laugh or just hanging up quietly.

  'Are you still there?' he asked finally, an uncertain tremor in his voice.

  'Not for much longer ...'

  'No, no! Don't ring off yet!' His voice rose in panic. 'We need to talk –'

  'Maybe you need to talk, but I need to go and lie down. I'm recovering from a brutal physical attack last night.'

  'Oh, God! Oh, God! I'll kill him when I find him again! Where did you say you saw him last?'

  'I didn't say.' And I wasn't sure it would be safe to tell him. Despite the fervour in his voice, he was exaggerating, of course. Or was he? To anyone in constant contact with Dorsal Finn, the thought of murdering him must present an ever-present temptation.

  'But you're going to.' The voice took on a coaxing, wheedling note. "Tis the last clue we have to his whereabouts. If I don't find him, he may have another go at you. You wouldn't want that.'