Cherringham--Playing Dead

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Authors: Neil Richards
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11. The Players at the Ploughman’s
    “Ready?” Todd said to Jack who had his hands on the curtain ropes. “Your cue is when I flash the lights on stage, two times, then we go dark and—”
    “Curtain.”
    Todd grinned. “Precisely. Least that’s how Kramer wants the act to end.”
    “And what Kramer wants…”
    Jack turned back to the stage. It was the end of the party scene, leading to a big moment. No more fights had broken out, and except for a roll of the eyes by Ambrose and the occasional exasperated look from Kramer, things had gone smoothly.
    Then the plan — for those who wanted it — was a post-rehearsal retreat to the Ploughman’s.
    Hopefully, without the director in tow.
    “What you are about to witness…” Goode, in character, said, holding a dark mahogany case, “is a most precious article that few have seen since I brought it back from the hot, mysterious city of Bombay back in ninety-four.”
    The actors formed a near semi-circle around “Lord Blake” and his mysterious case. They pretended to look at each other with curiosity. This play, Jack knew, was written in 1912.
    And it sure felt like it…
    “As a reward for service to King and Country, the Royal Indian family of Jain, long the wealthiest family in the land, presented it to me. For services rendered, of course.”
    More “oohs-and-ahhs” from the actors.
    Then:
    “And on this, the occasion of my lovely daughter Clarissa’s engagement being announced…”
    Now both soon-to-be-newlyweds, Ellie and Kramer, turned to the group and smiled.
    “…I wish to present this great prize to my daughter and for all her heirs, in perpetuity!”
    “All set?” Todd whispered.
    Jack nodded.
    Goode seemed to have some trouble holding the mahogany case up with one hand, while his other went to the front to open the lid.
    “Bit of a tilt,” Kramer said through his clenched-teeth smile, slipping in a tiny bit of direction.
    Goode kept his smile on as well as he tilted the case more towards the theatre, then slowly pulled on the case’s top.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you … The Pearl of Bombay!” Goode said, in what must have been as loud a voice as he could summon. Then, scanning the group whose smiles had now been replaced with horror-struck looks, eyes as wide as could be.
    There was nothing there, save the velvet nest for the pearl.
    “My God! It’s been stolen !” Goode — the thunder-struck Lord Blake — said.
    The stage lights flashed as if a lightning bolt had exploded over the room.
    Once … twice…
    Then the lights cut out completely, and Jack quickly lowered the curtain.
    The act, and the rehearsal was over.
    And nobody got killed…, Jack thought.
    *
    Ellie had walked into her usual place behind the bar of the Ploughman’s and suddenly the soon-to-be-married Clarissa vanished to be replaced by the familiar cheery barmaid.
    Todd stood next to Jack.
    “What can I get you, Todd?”
    “Hmm — think … I’ll have a Stella.”
    Jack turned back to Ellie. “Make that two pints of Stella please, Clarissa .”
    It almost felt that — with the rehearsal ended — people just continued in their parts as they walked over to the pub.
    Sarah sat with Tony Standish whose broad American accent in the show would be sure to get laughs — even for the lines that weren’t actually funny.
    And Sarah’s mum had come to the pub, sitting at table with Ambrose Goode — maybe doing some damage repair on the guy’s ego.
    Kramer had passed on the pub gathering.
    Probably wanted to preserve his aloof status as the artistic “visionary” of the show.
    Also Laura — aka the tipsy divorcee in the show — begged off, saying she had a long drive home. And Ben Ferris, who didn’t say much save for the lines in his script, simply vanished.
    Ellie put down the two pints.
    “Thanks,” Jack said.
    That first sip … not bad.
    “So Jack,” said Todd. “You enjoying it so far?”
    “Sure. Fun to see the thing come

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