While I Was Shopping: Part 9

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.
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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.

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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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