Girl Overboard

Act One, Scene Three:

Ms. Carlotta De Silva was a middle-aged woman with dark chestnut hair. Her skin was bronze and gently worn by time, her bone structure elegant. She seemed warm and kind, with a charming touch of vanity.

"So Charles sent you to me?" Ms. De Silva asked, welcoming Ariel into her home. "I'm sure we'll get along famously. You're an actor? No? I can't imagine that not with a face like yours."

Busily she showed Ariel around the two-story house, each room filled with momentos of her acting years. "I was the toast of London," Ms. De Silva declared, taking her past a wall of portraits done a decade earlier. Each photograph depicted her in a different pose or costume, some of them nude. She seemed to take great satisfaction in seeing Ariel blush.

"You're an easy one to read, aren't you? What a refreshing quality."

Intrigued by the collection of memorabilia, Ariel inspected framed play notices, engravings and coloured fashion plates of old costumes. "What an exciting life!" He exclaimed.

"I've had my ups and downs," Ms. De Silva said. " And I've enjoyed all of it. Never regret anything. That's my advice. Come, I'll show you your room and then we'll have a long talk. You must tell me everything about yourself."

Ariel had never before realised how obvious his thoughts were. It seemed that Ms. De Silva could read them as easily as Grimsby did. "Ah," she said, regarding Ariel's face. "You don't want to discuss your past. Well, we can find other things to talk about."

Ariel was gratified by the elderly woman's understanding. "Thank you, Ms. De Silva," he said, walking beside her for the rest of he tour.
..................................................
After unpacking his duffel bag, Ariel changed into a white linen shirt and black trousers. He was going to the theatre tonight, to see Erica Royce on stage and decide for himself if she was as talented as everyone claimed. Standing before the mirror, he noted the creases in his shirt and frowned.

While his suit was well made, the travel had left them horribly wrinkled. How was he supposed to impress any woman, least of all Erica Royce, looking like this.

Ariel smoothed down what he could, his naturally high spirits asserting itself. He would solve those problems later. Tonight he had only one thing to accomplish, and that was to see his first London play.

..............

Charles Grimsby was kind enough to show Ariel a place in the wings where he could stay and watch the play. "Just make sure you keep out of everyone's way. They'll be rushing through scene and costume changes- you wouldn't want anyone to trip over you." He said making light of the little incident earlier in the day.

Nodding his head, Ariel moved to the side and found that he could see most of the action onstage, albeit from an odd angle. The play, called No Other Woman, was preceded by a musical performance and a one-act farce that sent ripples of laughter rolling through the audience. The curtains were drawn, and set pieces, flats, and people flew into place in less than a minute. Two men near Ariel pulled expertly at the ropes and pulleys, and the curtains opened to reveal the beautifully crafted interior of an english garden.

Applause and exclamations of pleasure emanated from the audience at the sight of the display. Ariel was enthralled as he watched the story unfold. He felt acute sympathy for the heroine, an ingénue who was being prevented from being with her childhood sweetheart who was betrothed to a villainous woman who refused to relinquish him to the arms of his true love.

To Ariel's surprise, Erica Royce had not been cast as the heroine, but as the villain of the piece. The moment she strode onstage, an electric thrill bolted through the audience. Like everyone else, Ariel was riveted by her self-assurance, the threatening charm of her character. She wanted the man for herself, and not even his love for another girl would stand in her way.

To Ariel, each minute that passed was a revelation. He stood silently at the wings. Each time Erica Royce spoke, he could feel all the way down his toes. She inhabited the character with ease, conveying the girl's selfishness and intense longing. Like the rest of the audience, Ariel began to hope that she might win the hero's love.

Royce remained onstage for most of the first act, manipulating, bargaining, driving wedges between the two lovers until it seemed true love would never have its way. "What happens in the end?" Ariel couldn't help whispering to a screen-mover who had stopped next to him. "Does he marry Royce or does he go with the other man?"

The screen shifter grinned as she saw the rapt attention Ariel paid to the action on stage. "I can't tell you," she informed him. "Wouldn't dream of spoiling the surprise."

Before he could entreat her again, the first act concluded and it was time for intermission. Ariel stepped to the side again, as the curtain was dropped. A troupe of vendors filed along the aisles offering refreshments to the audience until the second half of the play began.

Patiently Ariel waited in the semidarkness, hidden behind the edge of the velvet curtain. It would seem an eternity until the play resumed. Anticipation filled him, and he was conscious of the tingle of happiness. There was no other place he'd rather be than here, breathing in the scents of sweat and paint.

A lithe, dark shape moved past him, a woman striding from the stage to the cluster of dressing rooms. Her shoulder brushed his arm as she walked by, and her steps slowed. She stopped and lifted her hand to the place where they had touched. Slowly, she turned to look at him. Their gazes met, and Ariel felt a throb of alarm in his temples. It was Erica Royce.

A shimmer of perspiration highlighted every curve and angle of her face. Although the colour of her eyes were muted in the shadows, the glitter of dawning anger was unmistakable. "You..." She said. "What the hell are you doing in my theatre?"