While I Was Shopping: Part 14

The house looked at him in the midday sun and Michael felt a glow radiate from him, no matter how dishevelled he looked from his weary travelling. It had taken him longer than expected to arrive in Shropshire, particularly as his car had broken down a third of the way into his journey due to over heating. He had had to stop and sleep the night in the backseat, dreaming of when he would see her again.
And now here he was, stood in front of the address he’d been given by the nice lady in Tathern, and he felt his heart leap to his throat and his knees begin to wobble. And suddenly he was at the door, his hand poised to knock, until he caught sight of himself in a window.

He was almost disgusted with himself. His face had oil on it, his hair was on one end and he could smell the scent of car engines as he moved to knock on the door.

He stepped quickly away and resolved that he would return as soon as he was in a fit state to go down on one knee and ask her to marry him.

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The supermarket stared at him with an open mouth as he filed in with all of the other late afternoon shoppers ready to tackle their lists with vengeance. After wandering the streets looking for a B ‘n B to dump his stuff for almost two hours, he managed to find one with vacancies and had quickly made his way over to the local, determined to scrub himself up and make the most of a bad situation.

He’d made a brief mental list, but he soon realised as he wandered the aisles in a haze of shock that his list was too small to cover all of the scenarios his mind was throwing up now.

Toothpaste, toothbrush, soap and underwear were all thrown into the basket, shortly followed by body spray, shampoo and a comb.

He was about to turn into the sandwich section when he collided with another shopper and got his basket caught up with the shoppers coat, sending the contents, and the contents of hers, tumbling to the ground.

“I’m terribly sorry.” He said as he fumbled on the floor, picking up his medley of things and hoping he didn’t look too much like he was trying to shoplift.

“It’s ok really.” Said a voice and Michael felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. He looked up at the person knelt beside him and felt his heart leap to his throat, his nerves, that had been so steely earlier, falter and crumble.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, struggling for something else to say as she looked up at his face with the same shock that he felt bubble inside of him.

Chelsea looked back at Michael and felt the whole world around her disappear. How had he found her? She’d meant to be away from him for at least another couple of months, enough to time let everything settle down, enough time to work out which way was the best to tell him.

“I’m sorry.” He said again and she scooped up her items and stood up.

“Stop saying that.” She said.

Michael pushed his things back into his basket and stood up again.

“Sorry.” He said and winced. “I…I…I’ve been travelling all night.”

Chelsea looked into his basket and back up at him. “You left in a hurry?”

He nodded and she smiled, and he felt all of his nerves fade and the familiar rush of adrenaline explode through his veins.

“I had to get somewhere very fast.” He said.

“And now you’re here.”

He nodded, and caught sight of the supermarket café. “Do you want to get a coffee?”

Chelsea nodded, and they headed over, Michael motioning towards a table near a window.

After they had ordered and settled down Michael looked up at her and smiled.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved Chelsea.”

She sipped her coffee and continued to look out of the window. “I don’t want you to apologise Mike. You did what you thought was right under the circumstances.”

Michael shook his head. “I didn’t realise what I was giving up. I didn’t realise exactly what losing you would do to me.”

“And you have now?” she asked pointedly, and he nodded.

“Being without you is killing me.” He said and looked down.

There was a heavy silence as Michael looked down and Chelsea looked out of the window.

“Why are you here Michael?” she asked finally and he looked up and straight into her eyes.

“I want you back of course.”

She sighed and stirred her coffee with a spoon. “Why?”

Michael was dumbfounded. “Because I love you.” He said.

Chelsea looked at her hands. “Love wasn’t strong enough to keep us together in the first place though was it?”

Michael looked confused. “I don’t understand Chelsea.”

“Was it really love Mike? If you could let me leave, if you could watch me walk away, if you could push me aside and chose something else over me…is that love? If you can’t live without me, how come you didn’t stop me going? Why did you stay in Scotland till filming finished?”

Michael put his head on his hands. “I don’t know.” He said. “I was so confused about what to do. Alison kept telling me that we should be together, that I should go after you, but I wouldn’t listen. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

Chelsea took a mouthful of coffee and swallowed slowly, letting the warm liquid sooth her throat and senses.

“You are not entirely to blame. If I had wanted it as badly then I would have put my foot down ages ago, and I would have demanded that we tell everyone we were together. I am as much to blame as you. I guess I just liked the thrill of having a secret too much.”

Michael gazed at her and placed his palms flat on the table, his coffee untouched.

“Will you come back with me?” he said, his eyes wide and his voice shaky.


She stared into his eyes for what seemed like an age, before looking down at her empty cup and slowly shaking her head.

“Not right now Michael.”

He felt as though his chest would explode. Never in all his dreams had he expected her to say no. In his minds eye he had seen her leaping into his car and him racing them both back to London where he intended to take her into the rehearsal room and announce their engagement.

Here, in a supermarket, he felt his dreams shatter.

“Will you ever come back to me?” he said softly.

Chelsea touched his hand with hers and he looked into her eyes again. She smiled gently and he felt tears well up.

“I think we both need a break for now don’t we?”

Mike nodded and reached out to hug her.

They stayed that way for a while, until, half-heartedly Michael stood up.

“I’d best get back to London. I have a meeting with a BBC man who wants me for some new show they’re thinking up.”

Chelsea nodded. She walked with him to the front of the shop, neither of them caring much about the things they had come to buy, and as they stood on the threshold, Michael turned to her and kissed her on the mouth, tenderly and emotionally.

She couldn’t resist him, and as their mouths parted and he slipped into hers she felt passion rise in her again.

And then he was gone. When she opened her eyes he was walking towards the car park, his shoulders hunched and his walk brisk and steady.

She brushed away tears already falling on her face and quickly headed in the opposite direction, determined that he wouldn’t see her cry.

Michael walked determinedly towards his car, careful not to look behind him so she wouldn’t see the tears on his face, and clambered in.

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TWO YEARS LATER

Eric pushed off from the pavement with his foot and scowled as a car behind him tooted his horn. Flashing the V’s with his left hand, and manoeuvring his bicycle with his right, he quickly peddled down the high street and into the suburbs of London, meandering his way through the houses until he slowed down outside a walled garden.

He clambered off his bike and lifted it onto the pavement, wheeling it along until he found a gate, and pushed inside.

The garden was looking better, a lot better, since he had last seen it, and since the house had been renovated it was looking a lot nicer, a lot warmer and a lot friendlier.

Ever since the end of ’75 Michael had felt wrong in his flat, and for some reason had moved out as quickly as his little legs could carry him. In fact, he’d grown to dislike the flat so much, he had moved almost six miles from it to the other side of London, and had moved into a battered and broken down semi-detached on the end of a row, with a huge overgrown garden and four bedrooms.

It had taken him nearly two years to get it fixed up, and as Eric examined the new windows in their settings, the bright paintwork, the cropped grass and the flowerbeds he smiled. Michael was definitely turning into a suburbia bachelor. Soon he’d have a wife and kids to complete the Stepford look.

He shoved the gate closed and let his bike rest against the panelled shed before walking briskly to the glass patio door and knocking loudly.

A silhouetted figure appeared in the distance and as he approached Michael smiled warmly as his friend.

“Hey Eric, what are you doing here?” he asked in a genial tone. It was rare that any of the Pythons visited now, and he was surprised Eric was even still in the country. He was sure that he’d been offered a couple more films in America.

“I come baring most mighty news.” Said Eric with a grin, and Michael gestured for him to come in.

Once seated Eric sat forward on the chair and knelt his elbows on his knees.

“Well?” Michael asked cheekily as his friend looked eagerly across the coffee table.

“John’s calling another meeting.”

Michael shrugged. “And?” he said noncommittally, “That could mean any number of things. One, that he wants to do another series of Python, however that’s highly unlikely. Two, that he wants to show off about another one of his shows doing really well for the BBC. Three, he wants to announce that he’s getting married….AGAIN….. Or four…”

Eric waved his arms. “We’re doing another movie!”

Michael’s jaw dropped. “Oh are we?”

Eric frowned. “You know it makes sense Mike. After the huge success we had with Grail it was bound to happen. There’s a great market for Python out there.”

Michael sat back in his seat. “But why now? Why does John want to market Python now?”

Eric shrugged. “Something about it being the best opportunity for us. And now we’ll have more sponsors, and more money, and more fun.”

“More fun?” scoffed Michael. “Do you REMEMBER the last movie Eric?”

Eric’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Great wasn’t it?” he said mischievously and he examined Michael’s reaction. There was always something about Grail that Michael shied away from, something that he didn’t like, or didn’t want to be reminded of, and Eric could never figure it out.

Finally Michael sighed. “When is this meeting then?” he said.

“It’s tomorrow night, at Jonesy’s. Can you make it?”

Michael nodded and Eric slapped his hands together. “Fantastic!”

“Where do you get your energy from Mr Idle?” Michael asked laughing.

Eric shrugged and downed the rest of his tea, before making to go. He turned to his friend as he pushed his bike out of the garden.

“I’m glad you’re coming with us on this Mike. Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Michael smiled gently as Eric rode off down the road, before turning back to his house, and deciding what he would have for dinner that evening.

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The house was once again alive, and as Michael sat down in the lounge, he looked around at the faces of his friends, once again gathered together for an ear bashing from John.

So far John, Eric, Gilliam and Terry were there, and they were waiting on Graham, who had insisted he didn’t need picking up. Eric had thrown his bicycle into the hedge out the front on his arrival, and John had brought Gilliam from the airport. He’d been away in America scouting for a new film project he’d been thinking up.

Terry kissed his daughter goodnight as Alison led her away, and he grinned proudly at the group as they watched with the adoring looks of Uncles.

She was christened Julianne, and Michael had become her godfather as expected. No one had been in contact with Chelsea for over a year, and they’d slowly gotten used to the idea that she would no longer be part of Python life.

Eric was grinning manically and John and Gilliam were in deep conversation as Michael sat back in his seat with a glass of wine.

The doorbell went and Terry stood up, winking at Eric as he went. Something was going on but Michael didn’t have the energy to pursue it. He’d spent all night on the phone with his mother, calming her down after the cat had gone missing, and she hadn’t left him alone until at least three am.

When the door reopened Terry poked his head round and Graham pushed past him, heading to his usual seat next to Eric.

“I have a little surprise for all of you.” Terry said and smiled broadly before walking fully into the room.

Behind him a figure appeared and the group fell silent as Chelsea made her way into the room. She didn’t look that much different. Her hair was longer, and fell in waves about her face. She was slightly thinner, and from the toned muscles on her legs Eric reckoned the last few months she’d spent dancing had really shaped her up. Of course it had been him who had found her. She’d moved back to London about a year ago, and had been seen around the entertainment circuit, dancing and singing in cabaret and in West End shows. Eric had been amazed none of the other guys had seen her, but then John and Gilliam had been loitering around America, Jonesy was usually locked away in the Beeb and as for Mike, well, God only knew what he got up to these days.

And one day, on a whim, he’d gone into the West End for a night out and had caught her leaving a stage door, her long wavy hair flowing down her back and her familiar perfume bewitching him again. After believing her dead or missing, it had come as quite a shock, and not only had he been shocked, but as he’d touched her arm she too had been a little surprised. She had invited him back to hers for some tea and a quick run down on all of the happenings, and he had been sworn to secrecy about her return until she was ready.

So for about ten months Eric had known she was back in London, and he had wanted to tell the guys. But other than his promise to Chelsea, he had liked having a little secret something, and had relished in the thrill of it all.

But Terry found out she was back, apparently from some of the Beeb backing dancers he’d gotten chatting to, and she had been more or less harangued into coming to the meeting this evening by both Eric and Terry. But as Terry had said, the films just wouldn’t be the same without her.

“Surprise,” she said softly and John stood up, and hugged her, before the other guys began to make positive noises about her return.

“Where have you been hiding Chelsea?” asked Gilliam in awe.

She shrugged, her curls falling onto her sweater. “Here and there. I just needed a break, that’s all.”

Eric smiled reassuringly at her as she approached the sofa, and sat herself between him and Graham, who patted her thigh with the same familiarity, and grinned with his pipe firmly in his mouth.

She took in the room, all now looking happily on her as she made herself comfortable and Jonesy provided her with a glass of wine.

She saw all of the faces she loved, and she felt suddenly that she had really missed being with them all. She hadn’t expected to feel quite so overwhelmed, and sipped her wine to distract from the fact she wanted to cry. There was so much to tell them, and yet there seemed so much they wanted to discuss.

Chelsea smiled as the banter returned, with only the occasional question directed at her, which she tried to answer as best she could.

She looked to the fire and felt her wine catch in her throat. There was a chair there, a chair she had forgotten about in her minds eye, and she looked at it, and at the person sat in it, with baited breath.

He was staring into the fire. He hadn’t seemed to notice her arrival, or was ignoring it.

Chelsea looked at Michael and felt all of the emotions she’d suppressed for the last two years build within her again, but she quickly pushed them aside, knowing that it was too late for them now, and knowing that she had sealed their fate in that case many months ago.

But yet the firelight caressed his face and flickered across his cheek, dancing light browns and gold into his wavy hair, and making him look very, very sexy. His hand was clasping a glass and he was caressing the neck of it with one finger, his other hand firmly on the arm of the chair. He was wearing a deep blue open necked shirt with light trousers, and she could smell his scent from across the room.

His downcast eyes flickered from the fire and towards her direction. She caught his gaze and saw the flames reflected in it. There was more said in that one moment than she had ever said to him in her life, and she saw his eyes glisten as he turned away, and back towards the fire.

And then Eric was tugging her elbow, and she was drawn back into the real world where questions were once again being fired at her as she sucked back her tears and coughed into her glass whilst Graham looked seriously at her face.

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“So it’s set then,” John said as he stood on the doorstep and waved at Alison who was chatting happily with Michael.

Terry nodded. “We’ll have to start scouting locations, but I’ve already been searching and I’ve had a few picked out.”

John smiled and rolled his eyes as Gilliam joined him. “I see he’s taken control already Gill. No wonder he’s our director.”

Gilliam grinned. “He does a damn fine job dontcha think?”

After some fake shrugging, at which Terry play punched him, John smiled again. “So Eric’s going to sort us out somewhere to write?”

Gilliam stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong with the rehearsal room?”

Terry tutted. “Eric’s flying high now. I know he’s got a bit of a surprise tucked up his sleeve for this one.”

John scoffed. “Yeah well, whatever.” He paused and grinned behind Terry. “Tonight’s been great.” He said. “Even Alison’s enjoyed it, and she doesn’t usually.”

Gilliam laughed heartily and Terry turned to see Mike whispering something in her ear and Alison laughing loudly. Again a stirring rose within him and he cast it down. Everyone had been in high spirits since Chelsea returned, and Alison, who’d nabbed her for a two-hour session of chatting and gossip, had found her arrival very refreshing and a huge comfort. Terry frowned as he remembered Mike’s slightly frosty reception towards their leading lady, but as soon as he’d been plied with enough drink he’d dismissed her completely and was now laughing raucously with Alison as Graham sat back with a mug of tea, chatting softly with Chelsea.

“What time are you going to kick the reprobates out?” John asked.

Terry turned back to his friends. “Soon, I can tell you. I’m getting too old for this kind of behaviour.”

Gilliam scoffed and John began to laugh as they headed towards the taxi. Terry waved them off as Graham approached the front door.

“Thanks again Terry.” He said and smiled gently. “I trust you’ll take care of Michael.” He said motioning for the wreck that was now leaning drunkenly on one hand whilst talking animatedly with Alison.

Terry nodded sternly.

Graham caught his look and put his hand on Terry’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry Terry. It’s just a bit of fun.”

Terry looked sharply into Graham’s face, and relaxed slightly, before nodding.

“Chelsea, darling, would you care for a lift home?” Graham asked, and Chelsea nodded gratefully. She cast a glance over at Michael, disgusted with the way he’d been behaving that evening, and then kissed Alison goodnight, before departing.

As she stepped out onto the front step, she smiled at Terry. “Can I just ask a quick question?”

“Sure,” said Terry and smiled openly.

“Are we allowed to bring relatives with us when we start shooting this next film?”

Terry nodded. “Of course, you know the rules. Who were you thinking of bringing?”

Chelsea looked down at her hands. “Someone close to me.”

At the mysterious answer Terry cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing, and instead planted a kiss on her forehead, and waved both her and Graham off, before returning to the wreckage that was his best friend, sighing and silently affirming that he’d never invite his friends around again.



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