Eric swooped into the Hollywood Bowl stage entrance car park and literally leapt from the vehicle, motioning for Chelsea to come with him.
She stepped out and walked in steadily after him. She had no intention of performing. Connie was sure to do a good job, and, although she had been the one on the stage for all of the performances so far, she was not going to spoil meeting back with Michael by having him poke her breast.
Eric stuck his head out through the door and gesticulated wildly.
“Chelsea we have less than ten minutes to get ready for the first sketch. Move your arse!”
She shrugged as he tugged her arm and yanked her into the backstage corridor.
“You’re not going to be ready in time and Terry will flip!” Eric said and rolled his eyes.
Chelsea pulled back from him and he turned around quickly. “What are you doing? Do you want a tongue lashing?”
She shook her head. “I’m not performing Eric. I’m going to go and sit in the audience and enjoy the show you guys give me.”
Eric rested his hands on his hips and sighed, before shaking his head and smiling gently. “Go on, I’ll tell them you’ve come back.”
Chelsea grinned widely and went off to find the stage manager who was busying himself with the lighting man, and he lead her from the stage area to the front of the concert hall where people were shouting and hollering and making noise and laughing in anticipation of the last show of the tour.
Eric scampered off down the corridor and was grabbed by a vice grip from behind.
“John, you bastard!” Eric shouted loudly as John, dressed in full yellow Barber outfit, smiled wickedly.
“Where is she then?” he asked and Eric grimaced.
“She’s not coming on the stage. She’s in the front row.”
John smiled heartily. “Good, at least she’s here and we can get these two fools to sort themselves out.”
Eric nodded and winced as John released his grip. “Look I have less than six minutes to get ready. I’ll speak to you later.” He said and sprang down the corridor as the music began to play and the credits began to roll up.
Eric spotted John, Graham, Gilly and Terry all lined up ready to go on and stuck up his thumb to them as they began climbing the stairs.
Just as he was about to go into his dressing room, he heard a small cough and saw Michael with a huge black bow tie, ready for the wrestling sketch, looking at him with a restrained smile.
“Where is she?” he asked unsteadily.
Eric looked around but no one was there to help him. “She’s not here.” He said honestly and Michael’s face fell. Eric cursed himself for the way he’d said it as Michael began to walk off.
“Michael, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded…” he began but Michael was already halfway to the stage and either couldn’t hear or wasn’t listening.
Eric cursed himself again as he locked his door and started to change.
**********************************************************************************************************
Michael climbed onto the stage and began his performance as the wrestling match commentator, but didn’t feel as though he were really there. In his mind he was miles away, on a plane over the sea, with Chelsea in his arms.
He looked to the side of the stage and saw Annabel smiling happily up at him. That was his future now, he supposed; a life with a beautiful woman, who was intelligent and witty, and incredibly good in bed.
He watched the sketch unfold before him from the wings of the stage, and looked across the audience, looking at the happy faces full of enjoyment and laughter and he felt happy himself. There was nothing like a good old audience to lift your spirits again. He looked at the front row and at the people all in their cubicles looking at the stage, mouths open and grins spread across their faces. With a small smile to himself he left the stage and headed back towards the dressing room for his next change as Eric leapt from the shadows.
“Eric, what the hell?” he asked breathlessly.
“I really need to speak to you.” Eric said, waving his purple arms in front of Michael as Michael began to move away.
“I think it’s time we put it all aside.” Michael said. “There’s really nothing left to say.”
“Eric what are you doing? We’re on in like, ten seconds!” John hissed and Eric looked desperately at Michael.
“Please…” he said, “wait for me after the show. I really need to talk to you, there’s something you must know!”
Michael shooed him away and Eric felt large hands on his arms.
“Eric Idle!” John boomed and literally lifted him from the floor and turned him in the direction of the stage.
“John he thinks that Chelsea didn’t come back!”
John frowned. “We’ll discuss this after the sketch. Now move…”
***********************************************************************************************************
Michael tore off his bow tie and quickly took off his jacket as he entered his dressing room, preparing to put on his Australian outfit and hunting around desperately for his corked hat as he removed his shirt.
“Where the bloody hell is it?” he cursed under his breath and began scrambling around the floor, now topless, with his trousers undone.
“Are you looking for this?” asked a voice and he looked up with a small smile.
“Thank you,” he said as he stood up and took the hat from her outstretched hand.
Annabel smiled at him and crept closer. “Any time.” She said softly and looked up into his eyes before planting a kiss on his mouth.
He broke away and stepped back. “I need to get ready for the next sketch,” he said awkwardly and Annabel pouted, but still maintained that small smile she seemed to always have.
“Well I suppose I can wait until after the show is done.” She said and folded her arms. “I have a bit of an announcement to make anyway at the party.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “I’d forgotten about the party.” He said and she play punched him.
“I worked hard all these weeks on that party, how could you have forgotten?”
Michael shrugged weakly. “I’ve just had a lot of things on my mind that’s all.”
Annabel eyed him and then stepped closer to him, putting her hand on his stomach and slowly letting it descend to his open trousers.
Michael gasped as she reached in and touched him, and closed his eyes in a moment of ecstasy before she released her grip and kissed his cheek.
“I’ll meet you here after the show.” She said and left the room, leaving Michael to carefully put on his outfit.
*************************************************************************************************************
Terry rested his head on his hand as he sat in the dressing room he shared with Michael, and looked at the pictures he’d put around his makeup mirror. He touched one of Alison and smiled at himself gently as he looked at his family and friends all surrounding him.
He pulled on his suit for the ‘Never Be Rude to An Arab’ song and grinned again at the board when a pair of hands covered his eyes and he jumped.
“Guess who…?” said a soft voice and Terry was loath to tell her he knew already because of her perfume.
“Um…Marjorie from Wardrobe….” He said and she slapped his shoulder playfully as he stood up from the chair and turned around in the circle of her arms.
“Hello gorgeous.” He said and kissed her mouth.
Alison smiled up at him. “You didn’t think I’d miss your final night would you?”
He looked down at her. “I thought you had that conference thing you couldn’t possibly get out of?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think leaving a day early would bother anyone too much. And anyway, a friend has it covered. She’s sleeping with the conference Director, so she said she’d send me any notes I missed.”
Terry smiled and kissed her cheek, before leaning in close and holding her to him. “I’m glad you came.” He said.
“I’m glad I was able to make it,” she said.
The tannoy in his room went off and Terry broke away quickly and adjusted his tie.
“I have to go,” he said and squeezed her hand. “Will you go out front?”
Alison shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll hang around the wings.” She said and grinned as he looked pleased with her reply.
He kissed her cheek and was about to leave when he turned to her quickly. “Chelsea’s here. She’s out front. I think tonight is the night when she and Michael get back together.” He said and Alison beamed.
“I love you.” He said and took her hand and led her to the wings, before making his entrance.
***************************************************************************************************************
The lighting came up and Michael heard the roar of the crowd as they realised what sketch was coming next. He pretended not to notice, enjoying the familiar thrill of performing live on stage that he always experienced.
John marched onto the stage doing his very silly walk and Michael found himself fighting the giggles as John sat down and crossed his legs on the desk, looking, with the same glint in his eye as always, directly at him.
Michael knew John was trying to make him corpse. It was the game they always seemed to play on stage, and more often than not Michael was the one who ended up laughing, while John seemed more superior and reproachful.
The sketch drew on and John finally asked for him to get up and perform the silly walk that would receive government backing. Michael got up and straightened his arms, and pulled up his trousers in preparation, drawing out the fatal moment when he would perform the pathetic walk.
He looked out into the audience for a moment and then down again as he began his walk and something in him stopped. His head rose slowly and his eyes alighted on the figure in the front row, looking up at the stage with a smile planted on her sweet lips.
The audience began rumbling slowly, not sure whether this was a new part of the routine they hadn’t seen before, and John sat back in his seat, wondering if Michael was trying to make him corpse by adding a new section. He was determined not to crack, and waited to see if anything would come of it.
Meanwhile the sound of the auditorium disappeared and his heart beat thudded in his head, filling his senses with heat.
She hadn’t left. She was sat in the audience, waiting for him. That was what Eric had meant by she wasn’t here. She hadn’t been on stage, she had been in the crowd. She hadn’t left.
Michael looked at Chelsea, and Chelsea looked at Michael, and in that moment he felt an understanding pass between them. They couldn’t possibly mess this up again.
“Mr Stad-Knacker?” John said finally and Michael snapped back into reality, a smile on his face that no amount of acting could hide.
“Excuse me…” Michael said and continued the sketch as if nothing had happened, while the fans roared the punch lines at him as though it was meant to tease them.
************************************************************************************************************
Annabel saw it. She saw everything from stage right, and knew that Michael had spotted her as he stood looking down from the stage, as she had done at the beginning of the performance. It didn’t take a genius to realise that all the secrecy surrounding the guys had resulted from their hapless efforts to try and get Chelsea and Michael back together. Didn’t they realise that Michael was with her now? And what Annabel wanted she got, no questions asked.
She folded her arms and watched the casual glances Michael gave Chelsea when he thought there was no one watching. But he didn’t realise that Annabel was there, and that she could see everything.
She picked up the stage phone and was automatically put through to the main reception.
“Oh yes, hello,” she said, disguising her voice with her own English impersonation. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you but there’s a woman in the first row nearest the stage, in Box 4 I believe, that is causing an awful lot of trouble, and Michael would like her removed from the arena.”
“Certainly,” said a voice on the other end. “I’ll have security remove her immediately.”
Annabel smiled happily to herself as she replaced the phone and folded her arms in satisfaction. She would take care of every problem that threw itself up in front of her with such ease, and Michael would thank her for it in the long run. She knew him better than he realised, and knew what was best for him.
She smiled at him as he looked her way, but he didn’t respond and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, before flicking open her notepad and began scribbling more ideas that had come to her about the party that very evening.
Annabel didn’t notice the shadowy figure behind her and didn’t realise that that person had heard every word she had uttered on the phone; that was, until she heard a noise, and went to investigate.
**********************************************************************************************************
Chelsea looked up at the stage with pride. The boys were doing well, and Michael cast her a glance every now and then, filled with something she couldn’t quite understand, and it nagged at her memory.
She clapped as the Silly Walks sketch faded and she smiled as the lights went down.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Said a voice to her side and she looked around, a smile still on her face.
A huge man with a skin head, a dark suit and leather gloves was kneeling beside her and he didn’t look impressed.
Chelsea’s smile faded and she stopped clapping.
“Can I help you sir?” she asked innocently.
“I’m afraid you have to leave the arena.” He said in a deep, authoritarian voice.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, slightly bewildered. “Why?”
“I’m under instructions to remove you. You are disturbing the performances.”
Chelsea scoffed. “I haven’t done anything!” she exclaimed, careful to keep the level of her voice to a minimum.
“One of the gentleman performers feels that you are distracting him from a full performance and requires you to leave.” The big security guard stood up fully, signalling the conversation was over, and stepped backwards as Chelsea gathered her belongings and followed him through a dark corridor and out into the main lobby.
“Excuse me,” Chelsea said, her voice wobbling slightly in anger. “I was actually a part of that performance for the few weeks.” She said and saw the security guard frown. “Who was it who asked for me to be removed?” she asked and the guard looked puzzled, and shrugged.
“Um, I believe it was Michael Palin ma’am,” said a soft American voice. The receptionist appeared over the front of the desk and looked apologetic.
Chelsea felt as though she’d been hit in the stomach. Michael wanted her removed? After everything Eric had said! She had stayed when there had been no point. No wonder she hadn’t realised what he was trying to show on stage. He wanted to get rid of her, not to have her hanging around watching him on stage like that.
After everything, this was the end; the end of the road for her and Michael. He was throwing her out, and all she could do now was leave.
Looking up at the guard and receptionist, who both eyed her with caution and apologetic stares, Chelsea gave them a watery smile before turning full circle and leaving the Hollywood Bowl through a set of revolving glass doors.
*********************************************************************************************************
Michael leapt on stage, barely able to contain his excitement at seeing her sat in the front row. He eyed the audience, giving them his most winning smile, and then looked about for her. He saw her empty seat, couldn’t see her coat, and any trace of her as she had been sat there had been removed. She had gone. His heart sank. Didn’t she come back to make up with him? To start again? To get married to him, to the love of her life?
He glanced at Eric with a sad face and saw Eric eye the empty seat with a frown, before they both were prompted to kick start the sketch.
They worked hard to make it seem funny, but although the laughs they were both getting seemed the same as always, neither of their minds were on the job, and the Bowl seemed hollow.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Terry demanded as Michael trailed off stage. “I haven’t seen you do it so badly since that time you broke your toe before you went on stage and didn’t say anything to us about it!”
Michael shrugged and Eric patted his shoulder. “Chelsea’s not out the front anymore.” He said and frowned some more. “I don’t understand it at all. She wanted to come back. She loves Michael. Why would she disappear?”
Michael pulled off his costume and moved away from the guys. “It’s obviously not to be.” He said firmly. “Let’s just get on with the show now.” He said, and the guys watched him as he moved off towards his dressing room, head bowed.
*************************************************************************************************************
Alison moved slowly backwards into the thick curtains of the backstage, and tried desperately not to make a sound as she scampered away as quickly as possible away from that God awful woman.
She had known in an instant whom Annabel was. She was just as Terry had described her. Alison had known as soon as she had walked backstage and seen her fawning over Michael, a pathetic but calculating look on her face. She had glanced over Alison as though she were nothing, had said a mere hello, and had disappeared off stage left before Alison had been able to get more from her. But Alison had managed to gain a feeling of dread, or coolness, about her in that short space of time that made her dislike her intensely.
Now, after she had heard that telephone conversation, Annabel had worsened in her mind. Alison had seen Chelsea on the front row. She had seen Michael’s face and knew that he was happy she was there, and if she had seen it then Annabel had definitely seen it too. How could she go doing something like that to Michael? It was obvious that Annabel wanted Michael for herself, but surely she must’ve heard the whole Michael/Chelsea history? Surely she must know that Michael still loved Chelsea very much?
Alison ran around the back of the stage, hunting for one or more of the lads to let them know what was going on, but they all seemed to have vanished, and there were of course two or three on stage already.
She wrung her hands, knowing that this could be the most important thing she ever did for her friends, and knowing she must find someone.
“Alison.” A voice said and Alison froze to the spot, knowing exactly who was speaking to her.
She turned slightly and gave Annabel a small smile. “Hello Annabel. The show’s going well don’t you think?”
Annabel, who seemed to have lost her pen and pad along the way, had folded arms, and a small, cold smile was firmly on her lips.
“The show should be going well. I organised it. And when I organise things, they always go well.”
Alison noted the emphasis on “always” and grimaced internally. “Well I’d better go and find Terry.” She said slowly and Annabel shook her head, and let out a laugh that sent shivers down Alison’s spine.
“You can’t,” she said pointedly and motioned towards the stage. “He’s out there.”
Alison nodded. “Oh yes, thanks for pointing that out; I’m sure there’ll be someone about though.”
Again Annabel shook her head. “Four of them are on stage right now, and the other two, they’re off round the sides, ready for the next bit. There’s no one here except me and you.”
Alison felt the shackles on the back of her neck go up and knew that this was a risky situation.
“In that case I’m going to go and sit out the front and watch the rest of the show in comfort.”
Annabel smiled again. “I’ll take you.” She said. “I bet you don’t know your way around yet.”
Alison nodded. “Thank you.” She said and followed Annabel’s back as she headed off into the warren of corridors.
For what seemed an age Alison followed her, until finally Annabel opened a door and pointed into a dimly lit room.
“Go through here and you’ll find a door on the far side. Go through that and you’ll come out on the side of the main block of audience. You’ll find a seat there I’m sure.” Annabel said, smiling with innocence.
Alison looked cautiously at her, before stepping into the room. She couldn’t see a door though, and turned around to question Annabel.
Annabel raised the metal bar in her hand and brought it down on Alison’s head with a smash.
Alison reeled and fell to the ground, bleeding profusely from her nose and ear, her eyes shut and her body crumpled.
Annabel threw the bar away into the darkness and laughed gently to herself, before dusting off her hands, and, pulling a set of keys from her trousers, shut the door.
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