The Last Fan

Clifford Percival sighed as he looked forlornly at the telephone, it had been a long time since it had rung, a very long time. He recalled when his phone was never silent, agents, directors and producers all wishing to speak to him. His eyes moved to the mirror, turning side on he noticed a small paunch, taking a deep breath he grunted with satisfaction as it disappeared. He held his breath for as long as possible, then exhaled noisily and watched the paunch reappear. He looked at his left profile, not bad, not bad at all. This was always his best side, the cameras loved this side, he was sure that he could pass for forty, with a bit of judicious lighting and a touch of make up.

He looked round his flat, a pile of publicity photographs, mainly black and white, lay on the arm of an easy chair. He picked them up and studied them as he had done a thousand times before . He remembered the adoring fans, the thousands of letters. The screaming women as they begged for his autograph. He laughed aloud when he recalled the sensation when he removed his shirt in a film, some young women had swooned in the cinema.

                  He stroked his immaculate pencil moustache with his forefinger, he still cut a dashing figure despite what they say. Too old indeed, he was a good actor, he had been called the greatest romantic hero since Errol Flynn. He could become a character actor, the best in the business had resorted to that Geilgud, Richardson and Larry. Why couldn’t the powers that be see that he would be sensational. A good, well written part, not necessarily a starring role, anything would be an improvement on that last lot of rubbish ‘The Werewolf Lives’. The dialogue was written by a Cretin, and his leading lady spent most days in a drunken stupor. Never again, he would never act in another film like that, rather than subject himself to such humiliation.

                 This latest project, the boy director had insisted that he audition, he Cliff Percival who had acted with the biggest names in the business. The boy had insisted that Cliff come to Glasgow, Glasgow for Gods sake not exactly the artistic centre of the universe. They had rented this flat for him, which led him to believe the audition was a mere formality Straightening his silk smoking jacket, a present from Rex Harrison, he walked to the settee and sat down. Dear old Rex, the original ‘grumpy old man’, they had got on well together. Rex could be the most difficult and exasperating person he ever worked with, complaining about the scripts, the directors, the other actors or the location being too hot or too cold. Cliff was always, ’Dear boy’, he missed Rex, missed him a lot.

                     He was awakened from his reverie’, by the door bell, sending out it’s irritating peal of Westminster chimes. He tutted and shook his head, ‘I bet this is the boy director calling to inform me of changes, now don’t get annoyed, old boy.’ He stood up and walked to the door, straightened his jacket again, took a deep breath and forced a wide smile on his face. He opened the door.

“My dear chap.” He began, stopping when he realised that the boy director was not there, but a young woman with a small boy. The boys nose was running, which he cleared by using his pullover sleeve. He held his mothers hand, and looked miserable. His mother was extremely agitated.

“Can you help me, mister? I’m at my wits end, I stay two doors along and I’ve just had a phone call to tell me that my mother has had a stroke, I must go to hospital to be with her and I don’t want to take William – you know what children are like in hospitals when they are bored. I know it’s a lot to ask but could you possibly look after him until I get back?” She pleaded.

Clifford’s first reaction was shock that she hadn’t recognised him, a sign of the times. His next reaction was to send her packing.

“Why don’t you contact your husband fetch him home from work, or failing that surely you must know the other neighbours better than me. Why don’t you knock on their door, I’m sure they would be happy to help.”