The Playing Fields

Chapter 7

THE PLAY

The restaurant was crowded with shop clerks and business people when Victoria and Nigel arrived. The faint strains of an electric harp followed them as they threaded their way through the cacophony of chatter filling the room. Peering through stands of artificial bamboo, Victoria found Susan waving from a tall booth across the wide room.

"Now remember, Nigel, you can do this. Don't say more than necessary; be clever and creative when you do." She took his arm and steered him through the jigsaw of diners to the waiting Susan.

"Victoria, how wonderful to see you." The two women traded phantom kisses and sincere hand clutches. "And this must be your famous nephew." Susan held out a slender hand in greeting.

"This is Susan Ho," Victoria said, "Susan, my nephew Nigel Stainway."

"It uh, it's a great pleasure, Miss Ho." He felt his neck heat at the bright, beautiful smile on her lips and the touch of her hand.

"Please Nigel, call me Susan. It's my pleasure as well. Let's sit, shall we?"

For several minutes, they traded polite conversation, with Nigel revealing his impressions of Canada, and particularly, Ashton Hills. Susan watched his face attentively, nodding and smiling at every utterance, leaving Nigel to trail his eyes about the room, at odds with the young woman's intense gaze.

"Oh that accent! It just sends shivers through me." Susan blushed and waved an apology.

Victoria cocked an eyebrow, at her nephew's own crimson features, sharing a wink above the rim of her glass. "Susan," she began, setting the glass down. "You said you were searching for material for a play?"

"Yes. Yes I am. We want to do something new this season, something fresh and clever." She wiggled on the banquet, bumping legs with Nigel. "The council, well Milo," she waved a delicate hand, "was leaning toward a Noel Coward type comedy, you know, clever dialogue, vivid characters." Nigel's head swung like a well oiled gate to stare at his aunt who shut her eyes and gave his shin a sharp nudge. "I was hoping that, well since Nigel here is a playwright, we might convince him to lend a hand. Maybe you have something in your uhm, aah..."

"As a matter of fact, Nigel is working on something right now. Aren't you dear?" Victoria turned an encouraging face to her nephew. "It could be just the thing you're looking for."

"Really?" Susan bounced excitedly closer to the cringing Nigel. "Would you tell me about it? I'd just die to hear."

So would I. He cleared his throat and tried a smile. "Well, it's just in very rough outline form at the moment, I don't–" The appearance of a short, bland faced Chinese man, presenting menus, thankfully interrupted his excuse, and Nigel quickly grasped the opportunity to delay his answer. "Ah, yes. Would you be good fellow and bring us some water and then hear our selections."

Victoria winced, delivering another, sharper kick to his shin. "Nigel, this is Victor Wang, the principle of this lovely establishment.

"And also of Miss Ho. She is my fiancée." Victor puffed himself up to his full five and one half feet and gazed with slit-eyed suspicion at Nigel.

"Victor dear, this is Victoria's nephew, Nigel Stainway. He's a playwright from England whom I'm hoping to enlist in helping with our theatre program this summer." Susan diplomatically pulled her fiancée's stiff hand across to Nigel, encouraging their manners.

"So sorry, sir. I had no idea... I mean I thought..."

"Victor understands, don't you dear?" She soothed, keeping hold of his hand as it returned smartly to his side. "Why don't we forget these," she said, gathering up the menus, "and you fix us one of your special lunches. Victor is an absolute genius in the kitchen." Nigel and his aunt smiled enthusiastically, nodding their eager approval. Absorbing the praise, Victor gave a curt bow and with a parting glint at Nigel, vanished amidst the bamboo like a jungle warrior.