The rehearsal room was dark when she arrived
and she pushed open the door with a foot, balancing the box of script
materials, pencils and paper with one arm and holding her handbag and
lunch bag
in the other.
It surprised her that no one was there yet,
and her mind only skimmed over the fact that the door was open in the
first
place.
Chelsea squinted as she made her way into the
dark and she let the door shut behind her when she briefly made out the
silhouette of the table in the darkness.
Skipping quickly over to it she put down her
belongings and then hurried back to the doorway, groping on the wall
for the
light switch.
Fluorescent light skipped into her eyes and
caused her to blink quickly. She turned back to the table and felt her
heart
leap into her mouth with shock.
“Eric what are you doing there? You scared
the life out of me.”
Eric’s gaze lifted from the table and he
smiled weakly as she headed back to sit down at the table.
“What’s up?” she asked gently as he shifted
in his seat and rested his head on his hand.
“Nothing much.” He said non-committally.
Chelsea folded her arms and sighed. “Don’t
give me that Eric Idle. You know I can see right through you. What’s
up?”
Eric sighed. “Just some family trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
He shrugged. “Oh the usual, affairs,
children, divorce.”
Chelsea felt her mouth drop open in surprise.
“Divorce?” she asked dumbly. There’d never been a mention of divorce
before and
to hear it, despite all of the purported problems Eric had with his
wife, was
still a surprise.
Chelsea had seen his wife, Mrs Idle, a tall,
thin and blonde woman of extreme beauty and extreme arrogance. She had
looked
only once at Chelsea, with the same distain she’d looked at everyone,
even
Michael, the nicest Python, and she had performed only once or twice on
the
programme, each time insisting her name be changed to Mrs Idle from her
forename.
Looking back at Eric now Chelsea felt her
heart twist gently for her friend. He looked tired, as though he’d been
sleeping
in his clothes, his hair unruly, even though he had waves, and his eyes
were
downcast, even a little glum. He looked as though he’d done a few
rounds in the
ring too, and under his usually happy eyes were dark circles and bags.
She reached out instinctively and touched his
hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly and he looked
into her eyes with a small, genuine smile and even a little tear.
“It’s not your fault I married a monster.” He
said and grinned.
“Still,” Chelsea said, “I bet this must be
hard for you. You’ve spent a good few years with this woman, and you
must’ve
loved her once.”
Eric nodded and bent his head. “I did. Once
she seemed like the only woman in my life who could ever completely
fulfil me,
but now….” he shook his head as though trying to understand, “I don’t
know who
I married anymore. She’s a different person and I don’t know what went
wrong.”
He choked and suddenly Chelsea found herself
putting her arms around him and hugging him as he cried. Something
inside her
told her he’d need someone to talk to about this, other than the guys,
who
could offer an unbiased opinion. And at this moment in time all Eric
needed was
comfort.
His choked tears subsided slowly and he
lifted his head. “I’m sorry.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes with a
hand.
Chelsea smiled. “Don’t be sorry. You needed
to do that I think.”
Eric nodded and pulled out of her embrace,
leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face.
“You’re a good friend Chelsea. Thank you for
your help.”
Chelsea shrugged. “I didn’t really do that
much.” She said. “All I did was give you a hug and a shoulder to cry
on.”
Eric lifted his head. “Still,” he said and
looked straight at her, “you don’t know what that means to me.”
She blushed slightly. “I’m sure any decent
person would’ve done the same.”
Eric held out his hands and Chelsea gave her
his. They smiled at each other as he squeezed her fingers gently.
A cough in front of them disturbed the
silence and Eric withdrew his hands quickly and glanced angrily at the
intruder.
Michael looked over the scene, wondering what
had happened previously between them both. He caught Eric’s angry
glance and
Chelsea’s embarrassed head look at her hands in her lap.
“Where do you get off Mike, sneaking up on
people like that?” Eric asked as Michael took a seat across the table
from
Chelsea and two seats away from Eric.
“I didn’t sneak.” He said coldly and shot
Eric a look of disdain. “And why are you so bothered? You weren’t doing
anything you shouldn’t were you?”
Eric shrugged. “If I was what would it matter
to you?”
“Maybe not to me but it would the rest of the
guys if I were to say anything.”
“And what exactly would you tell them Mike?
That I was holding hands with a friend?”
Michael shrugged. “As long as she stays your
friend.”
Eric folded his arms. “And what right do you
have to tell me who I can and can’t see?”
“The right to wave in front of your face your
promise to the group.”
Eric scoffed. “That’s nothing.” He said.
“That didn’t mean a thing.”
“Obviously not,” Mike said and shot him a
glance.
Chelsea’s mouth had dropped and her eyes were
wide as she saw these two supposed friends become enemies in an
instant. There
was nothing in Michael or Eric’s manner that suggested they liked each
other
for a moment, and when she thought about it all she could think about
was the
reason they were falling out. She couldn’t fathom it out. She’d only
been
holding hands with him, was that such a heinous crime?
“Why are you so bothered anyway Palin? You
got your eye on her too?”
Michael sat down and glowered. “I don’t have
my eye on anyone but you Eric.”
“I reckon you’re jealous.” Eric said smugly
and Chelsea looked towards Michael, wondering what was going to happen
next.
“Jealous of what Eric, if nothing’s going
on?”
“That she’s even looking at me, holding my
hands not yours. You’re not the only one who’s been doing some
watching.”
Michael’s face twitched for a moment and
Chelsea felt her heart lurch into her throat.
“What have I done that warrants such an
attack then Eric?”
Eric smiled haughtily. “I’ve seen the way you
look at her when she’s doing scenes with Terry, or me for that matter.
I
noticed it the first time we did the Marriage Guidance Counsellor
sketch, with
my hands on her, kissing her, touching her skin. You couldn’t keep your
eyes
off her.”
Michael shook his head. “I think you’re
paranoid my friend. And also arrogant. Why are you even saying these
things in
front of the poor girl. Do you really think she wants to hear us
fighting, over
something as trivial as your sexual appetite? That’s ultimately all
she’ll be
to you Eric because no woman can satisfy you can she? Not even your god
damn
wife.”
Eric lunged across the table and Chelsea
slammed back her chair and shouted as Eric grabbed Mikes shirt collar
and had
raised an arm, his fist balled up ready to punch.
“Michael that was a stupid and thoughtless
thing to say.” She said sharply.
Holding Eric’s arm back she pushed him
backwards into his chair. “And as for you, violence isn’t going to
solve anything.”
She walked around to the front of the table
and picked up her handbag. “I can’t believe the immaturity of you both.
I
thought you were such nice men, and then you treat me as though I’m a
piece of
meat for you to fight over like lions. I’m not some innocent little
lamb and
nor will I be torn to pieces by a couple of salivating hyenas.” She
wrapped her
scarf around her neck and glowered at them both. “Tell the others
whatever you
want, but I’m not coming back until I think you’ve had a chance to calm
yourselves down and start sorting out your friendship.”
She pushed the rehearsal room door open and
glanced back into the hall. “And as for satisfying anybodies sexual
appetite, I
point blank refuse.” She looked directly at Michael and Eric in turn
and said
again, “anybodies.”
And with that she shut the door and headed
home, feeling very guilty at being the cause of such a silly argument
and
hoping that they would reconcile themselves, or she may have to start
looking
for a new job.
************************************************************************************************************
Terry couldn’t believe it. They had made
series three already. It seemed hard to believe that they’d made it
through the
first one alive. But suddenly ratings had shot up, their spots had
become more
regular and finally an audience began to surge around them. He glanced
around
the studio at the camera men, the producers, the ward robe and make up
artists,
and then up at the audience, all smiling, eager and ready for filming
of the
final show of the third series to begin.
The regulars were in force today. At least
twelve of them had positioned themselves on the front row, and they
waved and
chatted together as Terry grinned up at them. He winked and clicked his
heels
together and they laughed, clapping their hands together and
invigorating the
rest of the audience.
The sketches were, for the first time ever in
Python’s existence, going to be performed in sequence, and Terry
grinned as
Eric arrived on stage, his Dickie Attenborough outfit making him look
about
fifty and fat. It made a change to see Eric in such high spirits. Ever
since
his wife had moved back to America he’d been a much happier and
carefree
person. He’d announced his imminent divorce last year, and now that it
had come
through he was free and single again, and by all accounts seemed to be
loving
it. He flirted ridiculously with all the women on the show, and
although they’d
all made a pact not to interfere with any of them, Terry was sure that
Eric had
been in and out of at least four girls’ beds.
The sketch ended and again the audience sat
back, laughing and awaiting the next skit. Today’s performances were so
good.
They all seemed to be making a real effort, even Chelsea, who was only
appearing
in the Dirty Vicar Sketch right at the end of the show. Looking back
Terry
remembered his first encounter of Chelsea and smiled. She’d been an
instant hit
with the lads, and Alison was very much taken with her. They’d shopped
together
on several occasions, and Alison always arrived home with a spring in
her step
after having spent the afternoon with her. Terry was sure they talked
about the
guys, and sometimes he would try and quiz Alison about it, but she
would never
tell him.
“It’s women’s talk.” She’d say with a smile
before she smothered him with kisses.
And although they had all made a pact not to
have a relationship with her, Terry was very surprised none of them
hadn’t,
particularly Eric, although something told him that Eric would have if
he
could.
She was beautiful, honest and funny and had a
way about her that made you instantly like her. She helped Gilliam with
his
animations, practised lines with Graham, danced with John when he was
feeling
silly, fixed Eric’s costumes and rehearsed with Michael. She was a good
all
rounder, someone who could learn lines, paint pictures, talk
intelligently
about serious subjects but could make you laugh about something
incredibly
silly. She was truthful, sensitive and witty.
Terry laughed inwardly. It was beginning to
sound like he fancied her himself. But she was far too much of a friend
for him
to even think it, and he honestly never had.
“What are you smiling at?” asked a voice
beside him and Terry snapped from his thoughts. John looked down at him
with a
gentle smile. He had been acting rather odd the last few shows and
Terry was
beginning to sense that John wanted to say something, but hadn’t
figured out
how to say it properly yet.
When Terry looked at him properly he grinned.
John was dressed as Whistler from the Oscar Wilde Sketch.
“I’m smiling at you.” He said.
John snorted softly. “Take a look at yourself
your Majesty.”
Terry looked himself over. “Up yours you
stuck up poncy poet.”
John grinned. “As you wish your Majesty.”
They smiled at each other and Terry felt
something inside him awaken. He knew what it was John wanted to say,
and wasn’t
surprised about it really. He looked down at his hands and held one out
for
John, who looked at first bemused and then a sad smile touched his
mouth and he
took it.
“What are you two doing?” asked Graham as he
approached.
Neither one said anything as they withdrew
their hands and looked at each other with a smile of understanding
passing
between them.
“Arm-wrestling.” John said before whisking
Graham away to the stage where Michael was waiting.
*******************************************************************************************************
The audience clapped and Chelsea grinned as
Terry sheepishly apologised for having to rip off her dress in the
final scene.
She batted it away and laughed as Graham attempted to do her up again,
but only
succeeded in groping her some more.
Michael snuck her a sideways glance but
didn’t make a move to stop him. They had long since decided that they
were to
completely ignore their feelings whilst at work, ever since the
incident with
Eric in the rehearsal room, and so far it had worked a charm. Neither
one acted
as anything other than a friend, and to Chelsea’s relief Eric and
Michael
seemed back to their usual selves. At first they had been frosty to one
another, but their natural ability to get on like a house on fire had
soon
overcome any hostility they felt. And as far as Chelsea was concerned,
Eric
hadn’t pestered her in the slightest since.
Michael, the afternoon of the argument, had
shot straight round to her flat with roses and a sheepish grin to
apologise.
She’d let him in and couldn’t resist his cute apologies for long, and
they had
spent many a night together since. To her he was wonderful. He was
kind,
considerate and caring. He made her breakfast in bed, looked after her
when she
was feeling low, helped her with lines, nursed her when she was sick
and even
covered for her if she was still loitering in his flat when any of the
other
Python’s arrived unannounced.
The camera had stopped rolling and everyone
was smiling and laughing with each other. It was amazing. She had been
with
this group of men for nearly three years already. She felt her insides
lurch.
How long had she and Michael been seeing each other? Surely for more
than two
years? It really didn’t seem that long, and yet she felt her heart
skip. This
was serious then. She had never had a relationship last this long
before.
The audience was getting up to go and the
lads were beginning to remove their outfits to leave the stage.
“Hang on everybody, I have an announcement to
make before you all leave to the pub.”
There was a tittered response and the
audience began to sit back down again. The lads looked at each other as
John
waved his arms around to seat everyone, and none of them knew what was
going
on, save one. What was he going to announce anyway?
Slowly silence fell in the studio, and even
the producer had appeared from his box and come onto the studio floor.
All eyes
were pointed on John and he looked around at everyone with a soft
smile.
“I’d just like to say a huge thank you to
everyone who’s supported Monty Python throughout it’s growth, and to
those who
didn’t, well up yours you bastards.”
A laugh rippled through the air and eased the
tension slightly.
“I’ve spent some happy years with these guys
beside me,” he said and pointed to Gilliam, Graham, Terry, Eric,
Michael and
Chelsea. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of it and no one deserves a bigger
thank
you than you do.”
The audience began to clap spontaneously and
Michael even gave a bow. The clapping subsided and John looked firstly
at his
hands and then back up again at his friends, colleagues and finally at
his
fellow members.
“There comes a time in every man’s life when
he feels he has to move on, no matter how good he may feel things are
in the
present.” His eyes were filling and Chelsea felt a knot twist in her
stomach.
“Ladies and gentlemen this was my final Monty
Python show.”
There was a unanimous gasp as everyone
breathed in together, including the stunned Pythons.
“I want to thank you all again, and hope that
you will continue to support Monty Python in all that he does.”
No one moved, until finally somebody started
clapping and then the room erupted and John felt his breath catch in
his throat
and a tear strayed onto his cheek, which he quickly swept away.
Gilliam held out his hand for John, but
hugged him instead. “Gonna miss you John.” He said gruffly.
Terry looked at him, knowing he’d already
said what he had to say and smiled as he passed John into the corridor
behind
the set.
Eric nodded as he approached and grinned,
always determined to look on the bright side. “I suppose you’ll be
looking for
better money eh?” he said and John faked a slap.
Chelsea smiled as she reached him, her eyes
watery with emotion. She kissed his cheek and he hugged her close. “I
hope this
doesn’t mean we won’t ever see you again.” She said.
He shook his head. “Of course not. I don’t
want you lot taking all the credit for this.”
She patted his arm and headed towards her
dressing room.
Michael felt as though he was losing another
important person in his life. He and John had always had a great
relationship,
and were always laughing and having such great fun. He looked up at
John as he
approached. “Don’t think you’re getting away that easily you money
grabbing
bastard.” He said and John laughed out loud before embracing his
friend.
When Graham approached John felt the room
disappear. Graham was his best friend and he had even kept this from
him. He
felt somehow he was letting him down, that he was leaving Graham to
handle too
much, but as guilty as that made him feel he knew if he didn’t move on
he would
be writing the same old clichés forever.
“I’ll see you around then John.” Graham said,
his pipe firmly in his mouth.
“Don’t worry, I’ll continue to be your
stalker.”
Graham nodded. “As long as we have an
understanding that you don’t steal my underwear. You know what happened
last
time.”
John nodded and put his arm around Graham as
they headed towards the dressing room.
“Well just so long as you know I’m always
going to be there.”
Graham nodded sternly. “Just so long as you
remember that you won’t always.”
They grinned at each other and shook hands,
and then left for their separate dressing rooms, happy in the knowledge
that
John’s departure from Monty Python was not a departure from their
lives.
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