Tripping the Night Fantastic

Chapter 8

Jane quietly unlocked the front door to her house and peered in. The house seemed to be empty. She went in. She tiptoed over to the kitchen, trying to prevent her feet from making a sound, and lightly opened the door a crack. She looked through and panned across the room. It was empty. She let out a silent breath and started creeping slowly up the stairs.

Upstairs was clear. Nobody was in.

Jane pulled a large suitcase from the top shelf in her wardrobe and threw it on the bed. When it hit the bed the lid conveniently sprang open, as if this were a carefully choreographed movie scene, and a pile of clothes landed in it. Jane opened another drawer and grabbed a pile of assorted underwear and threw them in to the suitcase. She went into the en-suite bathroom and grabbed some basic toiletries. She stuffed them into her suitcase and then looked around the room with her hand on her chin wondering what else she would need. Of course! She thought, bending down and pulling a shoe box from under the bed; her duel-speed, multi function, Pleasureflex 3000! She tossed it into her suitcase and then looked at it for a while, she checked her watch, wondered when Simon might be back, started to smile, thought against it, and finally took her eyes off of the immensely pleasurable toy and grabbed a few last bits and pieces to pack for her stay at her mothers. Finally she packed the book she was currently reading, which happened to be one of Charlie Deavon's early books, 'The Elegance of Idiocy', and zipped up the suitcase.

The bedside phone started to ring.

Jane stared at it and waited for it to go to answer phone. Eventually it did.

'Simon, are you there? Please pick up. It's Casey Jury, the Casting Director. I'm calling from the studio. We've got people here waiting to audition. I've been trying to get hold of you all morning. I've been told I can't start until Charlie is on set. Please call me ASAP. I'll soon have no choice but to start without you...'

Jane's conscience got the better of her. I say that, what actually happened is that she remembered Amelia was going to be there to audition. She picked up the phone.

'Casey?' she said, 'It's Jane, Simon's wife.'

'Jane, thank god, where is he? I can't drag this out much longer.'

'I'm not sure where he is, he should be there. Listen, I can come as his representative, so you can at least start the process.'

'I'm not sure, I have been told to specifically wait for Charlie to be on set.'

'It's ok, Charlie was here for dinner last night, I know he won't mind so long as we don't make a decision without him. The auditions are being filmed aren't they?'

'Yes, actually, they are.'

'Ok, then we can do the auditions and then let Charlie and Simon view them when they become available.'

'Ok, that will have to do, how soon can you be here?'

'I'm on my way.'

Jane hung up the phone and picked up her suitcase. She trundled down the stairs and practically leapt out of the front door. She threw the suitcase into the boot and sped off toward the studio.

In Keep's bar Charlie was standing on the stage writing on the back wall with a piece of chalk. To Charlie those carefully chalked words were the opening chapter of the greatest book he'd ever written. To the casual onlooker they were just a random jumble of misspelled words.

Keep was behind the bar making evolutionary leaps in the science of drink mixing. The drink he held in his hand now was glowing purple. He drank it and grinned. He searched frantically for a piece of paper and a pen to write down the recipe to this incredible new drink but, alas, could find neither pen nor paper.