Page 86 of When The Curtain Falls

‘Do you come to the theatre much?’ asked the man, taking off his glasses and giving them a clean with a cloth he produced from his top pocket.

‘Quitea bit, yes.’ Oscar smiled, removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘You?’

‘As much as I can. Nothing quite like it, is there?’

‘Absolutely not!’ Oscar smiled, but it was then he heard a small gasp and his heart jumped. Instantly, his eyes scanned the audience around him until he locked eyes with two girls of, he guessed, around eighteen, sat four rows in front of himbut firmly wedged in the centre of the stalls. He politely smiled; immediately the girls started scrambling through their bags and suddenly the occupants of the stalls had a mission put to them. Two tickets and a pen were passed from person to person, from row to row until the man in front of him, puzzled, looked up at the girls who were now standing and frantically waving, impossible to miss. Theyenthusiastically gave the man the thumbs-up so he handed the tickets and the pen to Oscar whose cheeks were now glowing so red he was sure the cast would still be able to see him from the stage when the lights went down. Oscar returned the thumbs-up to the girls and proceeded to sign the tickets.

‘Are they friends of yours?’ asked the elderly gentleman, chuckling at the swooning pair, oneof whom had started to cry.

‘Something like that.’ Oscar smiled, not wanting to be rude but also not too keen on explaining. Oscar passed the tickets back to the man in front who had been waiting but much to the girls’ dismay, instead of passing on the freshly autographed tickets he said, ‘You don’t know who this is, do you?’ to the elderly man who was placing his glasses back on his nose.

The elderly man took a good look at Oscar but there was no recognition there at all. Just an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry – I… I don’t!’

‘No, please don’t be sorry! I’m no one worth mentioning.’ Oscar smiled, fiddling with his flat cap in his lap, hoping the lights would go down soon.

‘Don’t be modest! This is the guy who’s making a laughing stock out of the Indiana Jones franchise,’the man in front scoffed and quickly turned back to the stage, passing the tickets and the pen along to the person in front of him. Oscar waved at the flustered girls when they received them and finally, they sat down. The elderly gentleman could sense Oscar’s embarrassment and gave him a smile and a roll of his eyes at the man in front whom Oscar thought was no doubt feeling very smug.Just as the lights were going down, Oscar couldn’t help himself. He leant forward and whispered in the man’s ear, ‘Harrison Ford didn’t seem to mind the new movie too much when I had dinner with him last week but hey, what does he know, eh, buddy?’ Oscar patted his shoulder and sat back in his chair.

‘Beautifully done,’ said the old man.

The show was an undeniable success. Well directed,with a tight and well rehearsed cast and impeccable acting but from no one more so than Olive Green. When she appeared to take the final bow, the members of the audience who weren’t already on their feet jumped up like they were spring-loaded. Oscar put his fingers between his lips and whistled as loud as he could and there was a twinkle in Olive’s eyes as she glanced towards M fourteen.

‘Why are you even here?’ snapped the man in front, flinching from Oscar’s whistle. ‘Isn’t theatre a little too intellectual for someone like you?’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ Oscar said over the roar. ‘But you see that woman there? The one who this entire theatre is applauding?’ Oscar made sure to lean over the man’s shoulder and point Olive out, even though she was standing centre stage, taking thehands of her cast mates and bowing again.

‘Oh, I see her,’ said the man, still applauding. ‘I plan on taking her home this evening.’

‘Oh, do you!’ Oscar laughed.

‘She and I have yet to be introduced but y’see, I’m theproducer’s son.’ The man turned his head and flashed his teeth and Oscar felt a wonderful rush of triumph flood through his chest.

‘Ah, well you see…’Oscar grinned from ear to ear and leant forward so the man had no chance of mishearing him, ‘I’m her husband.’ Even in the dim light, Oscar could see the man’s face fall and he instantly stopped clapping. He collected his coat and quickly moved past the people in the row just as the cast disappeared and the lights went up so no one could see his drained face.

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t helpbut overhear.’ The old man took hold of Oscar’s arm, less to stop him leaving than because his aged legs had lost balance, but Oscar gladly held him steady. ‘Olive Green. She’s your wife? She’s unbelievable.’

Oscar smiled. ‘Yes, she is.’

‘You’re a lucky boy. I hope you know that.’ The old man patted Oscar’s arm with a chuckle.

‘Believe me,’ Oscar looked down at his Playbillwhere Olive’s face smiled back at him, ‘I know.’