Mike Jarvis would be home soon. It had been a wonderful two years - almost three - and now it was time to return to his home city of Wellington to establish himself as the top lawyer he knew he could be. He glanced again at the rather silly New Zealand movie he was watching. He hadn't followed the plot but it seemed to rely on a pretty female lead and her capacity for wriggling in and out of rather scanty clothes and men's beds. Mike found her rather alluring. He laughed at himself. Of course he found her alluring. He was supposed to find her alluring. That's why they made the film. She probably had a husband and six kids by now. They were nearly there. They would land in Auckland inside half an hour. A few days there to catch up with friends and then Mike would go home. As the credits began to roll he flicked off the screen. Outside the window, land began to pass under the wings.
Above the ruckus of twenty-two ten year olds beginning the clearing up, Abby called, "That's it for today. All the clothes back in the clothes box. Furniture back against the wall. Remember that no matter how good the performance, if the props aren't where you expect them to be you look really dumb. Now we are going to sit on the mat and be mice. Really quiet mice. Even quieter mice. There is a cat over there and as soon as it hears us we are lunch." A blissful silence descended.
"May I be in your next film with you Miss Lake?" one of the mice asked.
"Not if you think that is how to act a very quiet mouse," Abby said, grinning at the culprit. She turned to greet Pamela Roberts, returning to her class. With just a hint of resentment Pamela admired Abby's control. Abby had the little devils eating out of her hand. Pamela said, "The children get so much fun and learning from these sessions."
"So do I," Abby replied, "I love my time here."
Watching her leave, Pamela reflected that Abigail Lake left a room full of ten year olds with the same aplomb that she had walked the red carpet on the opening night of Maria Grenville. If there had been anyone in the corridor they would have received a regal smile and toss of the head and yet there seemed to be nothing affected about it. Abby's presence was such a perfect combination of guile and friendliness that everyone on the staff felt that they were on intimate terms with her and yet none knew her beyond a nodding acquaintance.
Abby waved cheerily to the office staff. She felt a little light headed. It was so refreshing to work with children after the different stresses and demands of professional theatre. It was too easy to lose sight of basic acting when the ultimate goal was always commissions, ticket sales and bums on seats
Harry Jarvis settled into the airport chair and opened his book. He enjoyed the anticipation of welcoming home his son. He didn't have long to wait. They embraced warmly and started out to the car park. The conversation rushed over the casual things of life and returning home until it got to the two important things that Harry wanted to know.
"You'll stay with me for a while, until you get settled somewhere?"
"If you don't mind, Dad. I haven't anywhere at present."
"No job lined up yet? We need you back at Jarvis and Keen"
Mike laughed. "Hardly need me, but I enjoyed your place, Dad. If you offer a job I'll take it."
Harry hid his relief. Harry respected Mike as a valuable lawyer who would improve with the years, and the two men had worked well together in the past. But mostly he just felt that he was getting older and lonelier. He was happy to have Mike back and close again.
During the drive they chatted of life in London and Wellington and Harry's new home. While Mike had been away, Harry had replaced the family home.
"Wait until you see where we live now, Mike."
But he had even bigger news. As they passed through the centre of Merriton, Harry pulled up in front of the small set of offices.
"Our new suburban branch office, Mike. I'm hoping you will agree to manage it."
"Oh no Dad, I'm not ready for that and the Head Office staff will quite rightly say that it's nepotism. How will it be for you if you have your son managing his own branch office close to home while everyone else slaves away in downtown Wellington. There'll be revolution."
Harry had expected this, but he wanted a bright young manager in the suburbs while he kept the senior staff close to him. Having the branch manager living in his house would be a bonus. "No, Mike. You are ready for it and it is not nepotism. If there was anyone better they would get the job. Our most senior staff are specialists and needed elsewhere. Of the older ones, they are either close to retirement or not up to it. You're the best of the younger staff. You are trained, go-ahead and with ideas you need to use before us old guys corrupt you. I need an intelligent, customer oriented person up here and you are it. Having you in the house to confer is a bonus."
Mike laughed. "Okay, it sounds like a good job, but we both better watch out for knives in our backs."
The conversation paused as an attractive redhead crossed the street. She glanced briefly towards them and looked away.
"I think she fancied me," Harry said.
Mike snorted. "We scored somewhere between the toffee wrapper and the dog poo that she was stepping over."
Harry eyed his son. "Speak for yourself. I saw desire."
Mike felt uncomfortable. He was aware of something he couldn't quite understand. Some disturbingly sexual memory taunted him. But where had it come from? There were no beautiful redheads in his life. He shook off the feeling. "Take me home you old fool."
Abby glanced at the two men in the blue Audi convertible. There was wealth and power in the image. But they were looking back. If they had been walking she would have stared them down. In a car it was awkward. With a toss of her head she looked away.
At home Abby kissed her mother and threw herself into an armchair.
"I am glad I don't have a full time career in primary teaching. Two hours with a handful of kids and I need a lie down and tranquillisers. Satisfying and fun though. What's the note by the phone?"
The older woman smiled in sympathy. "Chris rang. Excited and with great news and you must ring back soon."
Abby enjoyed the stimulation of Chris and his exuberance. She went to the phone. The conversation was short. Abby would have Chris over for a chat, especially as he said he wanted to talk business. Abby and Chris had been friends throughout their drama training. Chris was now the manager of the local theatre group and dance and drama school. He would want Abby to do some menial unpaid task which he would assure her was the opportunity of a lifetime. He was not a very practical person. Nor was he far away. There was a knock on the door.
Abby opened it to the usual rush of nonsense from Chris.
"Oh gracious, how is it possible for the absolutely fabulously beautiful Abigail Lake to get more lovely every day," he said squeezing her around the waist and kissing both cheeks. "Mrs Lake, is this not a magnificent sight?"
"Looks like me bloody daughter to me," Lucy said.
Abby laughed. "Damn, knocked off my pedestal again. What do you want?"
"If you are having as much trouble getting work at present as the rest of us, then you may be interested in an offer I have to make to you," Chris said.
"Hell no. There are twenty ten year olds all needing to learn how to be the goblins and fairies in the school play, and a cereal company is waiting to hear their cornflake packet speak. Don't tell me the work is not flooding in," Abby said.
"Exactly. And into this maelstrom of activity I am going to offer a job of director and lead actor in a top locality with top people and a particularly top play and with only one small snag. Will you take it?"
"No, because it is another of your harebrained schemes. And if even you have to admit to a small snag then it is a fiasco of unimaginable proportions."
Chris raised his voice to nearly falsetto. "Ooh she is cruel. Isn't she cruel Mrs Lake. How could a creature of such perfection and loveliness as yourself produce such a monster?"
Abby was keen to move this along a bit. Despite the raillery her interest was piqued and she wanted to know what Chris was on about. "I may be cruel, but I'm not stupid. What ridiculous idea have you dreamed up with its small snag?" Abby asked.
Chris was an actor, he could slip in and out of parts, although he preferred the part that most nearly suited his natural style. But now he wanted to be convincing. And he could play that as well.
"Abby, you are the most talented organiser and actor in the city. Everything you touch turns to gold and it is time that you took full charge of something that will be indisputably yours. We at Princess Players need you to survive and you can do it for us and win fame and fortune at the same time."
Abby hooted and playfully slapped Chris's arm. "Chris, the Princess Players is a handful of bankrupt amateurs. Their hall is too big for them. They've no following or finance. They are facing death from slow decline. You want me to direct their funeral?"
Because Chris respected Abby and loved her for her humanity as well as her intellect, he was hurt much more than he should have been. His facetious comments about her cruelty came back to him.
Abby saw the pain and relented at once. "Oh, I didn't mean that. The Princess Players do wonderful work. They have put on great community entertainment and their coaching classes are some of the best." Abby was startled to realise that this was in fact true. "What I meant is that they can't compete at the top level of general entertainment."
This was the opening Chris wanted. "Why? We have several top actors. We have set design and construction. We have wardrobe. We have a hall. We have catering. What we lack is top class direction and a female lead."
Chris took hold of Abby's arms. His eyes shone. "And up until now we have lacked a first class crowd pulling play. Abby, you have vision and you work like a mule. You can do this. It would make you a hero and give you a CV to set you up for life. In the unlikely event of failure you could write us off as small time no hopers who were never going to make it anyway."
Chris's voice had dropped from its usual siren wail. The flow of superlatives had ceased. Abby was seeing the rare sight of a Chris intense and serious.
"Up until now no crowd pulling play?" she asked.
Chris went straight back to loud and high. "You won't believe it. You won't. We have Potent Performance by John Ashcroft - in his own words, to do with it as we will. Can you imagine it? Potent Performance by the Princess Players. We can fill the hall night after night and you will be there to lead us."
Abigail was careful not to hurt Chris again. But this didn't make sense. "This is a very exciting fantasy, but you do not have Potent Performance. It's barely started on London's Westend. Broadway doesn't have it yet. And you can't afford it."
"But we do. I worked with John at Oxford where he trialled it and he said I could use it for Princess Players. When it went big I told him he could rescind the offer. He said he'd promised it and it would be good publicity to have us do it on the other side of the world. He wished us luck."
Abby fought her rising enthusiasm. "Chris, I'm flattered and almost tempted but you are talking of a large suburban hall and a small suburban company and too many amateurs for a major production. This is pretty loony even for you."
Chris released her arms and pulled her into a bear hug. "Oh my angel Abigail. You're going to say yes. I can see it in your eyes. When did you ever turn down a challenge? When did you ever fail in anything? I love you I love you. Mrs Lake isn't she adorable?"
Abby landed a rather hard punch on Chris's arm. "I said 'no'. I have declined. N. - O. What is the snag?"
"Well you are aware that under our last production team we put on an ill considered, lavish and long season of The Three Sisters to which no one came. We are not flush with funds."
Abby asked, "How much money do we have to stage the internationally acclaimed play Potent Performance, which has a substantial cast, a complex set, and will require enough advertising and effort to drag in an audience of thousands?"
Chris's falsetto went up a note or two. "We. She said we. Mrs Lake is she not the most excellent female to ever grace the earth?"
Lucy kept a straight face. "Abigail's fine. It's the company she keeps that concerns me."
Chris clasped his forehead. "Insults have no sting. She will say yes. The world is a happy place again."
Abby tried again, "How much is there in the kitty?"
"About minus $20,000"
"Fuck it all Chris, you nearly had me. You don't want a director, you want a banker."
Chris pretended shock. "Please Abigail, remember the women and children and gay men. A little decorum. There are bankers. There are art benefactors. There are supporters. But most of all there is our lovely seductive Abigail Lake and her money winning ways. When the investors hear that we have Potent Performance directed and acted by Abigail Lake they will come to the party. Some may even come to the show. The Lake name alone will fill the hall a hundred times over. Your name will be enough to get the first night in and your talent will keep them there."
Abby felt herself weakening. Chris was getting to her. She was feeling anticipation and excitement mixed with fear and foreboding for where this might lead. She wanted to say no. She couldn't. Instead she said, "Leave the script and material you brought. I'll tell you tomorrow."
She saw Chris to the door, accepting the hugs and flattery that expressed Chris's exuberant nature and that simply meant that they were good friends. She wanted to direct. She wanted to act. She wanted to be part of a best selling play, but she did not want to be part of an embarrassing débâcle. A bankrupt group of casuals pretending to be the big time. And she had to think of her mother.
As Abby walked out to the front door, chatting to Chris, Lucy crossed to the pile of papers on the table. There were two copies of the script. That was all right, Abby would encourage her to read one so they could discuss it together. There was a cast list. A male and female lead, and several young people apparently living together in a chaotic house. Her finger lingered over the next character. A slender middle aged woman who can be confused with her daughter. The finger refused to move on. Some of the other characters had pencilled suggestions for who should fill the part from the permanent members of Princess Players. This one didn't. Unwanted and unwarranted excitement began to consume Lucy. Somewhere inside her head distant shouts of laughter and pleasure began. The sound became cheering and rose to a crescendo. The house shook with cheers and laughter. The heat of stage lights baked her. The other actors moved to the front, facing the tumult. Lucy would wait until they had formed a line and then sweep between them, honouring the two who's grip she broke to take her position. She'd bow low as the applause thundered to new heights. This was living. This was what she was born to do. This was what she did better than anyone else. At least this was what she had done better than anyone else when she could still remember her lines, and remember to get on stage at the right time. And on that one last awful occasion remember to stand up again after falling over. It hadn't mattered. She couldn't have been heard above the howls of laughter from the audience.
"Mum, Mum. Are you okay? Are you crying?" An arm went around Lucy. "Sit down. You don't have to worry. I'm not going to do it. It's too much work and would take me out of the house too much. Mum relax."
"Abigail. I've often considered suicide so that you can get on with your life, but I've never had the courage. But if you turn this down just to stay home to see what I'm drinking then I think that I can do it. If you deny yourself this for me then I will drink and drug myself to death just to spite you."
Abby had no answer. Lucy had been sober for months. Something had changed and they had to move on eventually. Perhaps this was it. Abby picked up the second copy and tossed it down on the coffee table. "Help me decide on the merits of the play then," she said.
Harry stopped the car at the beginning of the drive. "My new home, and yours for as long as you want to share," he said proudly.
"Jees Dad, are you planning to start another family, or run an orphanage? It's nice though, and rather handy."
Harry nodded. "It's an indulgence, but both ends can be treated as separate units. Who knows, I might find someone someday. And you might ..." Harry ran out of courage but he had made the point.
Mike heard the loneliness. "I'll be here for a time," he said.
"Sally was in asking about you."
Mike grinned at his father. "I'll manage my own romantic arrangements, Dad. Sally is just a friend, but I'm looking forward to seeing her again."
Abby's brain churned restlessly over. Although this was life changing, the issue was simple black and white. She could risk her mother's health and possibly her life on a bizarre venture that just might succeed, or she could give Lucy more time and expect other opportunities. Simple. She put her head on her pillow and willed sleep to come. Another cycle of the same useless thoughts. She could risk everything and win or lose or she could wait. Simple. She'd decide in the morning. She closed her eyes and the thoughts were still there. In exasperation she jumped out of bed. A glass of water and a pee and sleep would come.
"Mum, what are you doing here in the dark?"
"The same as you. Agonising over the future. Abby, remember what I said. If you turn this down for me I will love you more than ever but I will never be able to forgive you."
Abby nodded mutely. Who was she kidding? This was it. This was her. This was better than being offered another major part in a major theatre. It was going to be her from start to finish. She would stand or fall on this. She'd sacrificed nearly two years of her career to her mother. She had to risk moving on eventually and this was a job that had come to her. She would direct, act and mother-mind. She wouldn't be Abigail Lake if she didn't do this.
They both needed sleep and they would sleep better knowing the decision.
"I'm going to say yes, Mum. You know what I need from you don't you?"
Lucy ducked the question. "You'll do it and make me very proud."
Abby felt the joy of a difficult decision made. She hugged her mother and went back to bed. But sleep still didn't come. Her troubled mind now worked through casting, props, finance and contracts and how it might end. At last, some time after 3am, too exhausted to care any more, she plunged into a deep sleep.
Next morning Abby lingered over dialling. There would be no way back. "Chris, there are some things to negotiate but if I have control and you can supply the facilities and most of the actors, I want to do it."
Abby waited patiently while squeals of delight and thanks washed down the line. Then Chris said, "Abby, come to the committee meeting at 7pm. Announce it then. They'll be so thrilled."
"Chris, be realistic. We might make this work but there is no surplus talent or money. This is suburban theatre."
"This is suburban theatre with you, me, and Potent Performance. Abby, we will do it."
Abby hung up smiling.
Conscious that despite the need to protect her mother from being overtired, excited or stressed, or even hungry or thirsty, Abby knew that Lucy needed stimulation and a life. They worked together through the scripts, accounts and the myriad details that make a theatre group what it is. Lucy thrived on it, but Abby became aware of a rising feeling of manic excitement that preceded a major role. She fancied a drink. She was after all her mother's daughter. But there would be no drink. The only alcohol in the house was the bottle of vodka that they both pretended Abby didn't know about. It was hidden behind the cleaning gear in the passage cupboard. Abby had long ago learned that removing that last lifeline resulted in several more cunningly concealed bottles turning up elsewhere. Better the devil they both knew about than the endless game of search and destroy that had marked her younger and more naïve years.
Mike reacquainted himself with Jarvis and Keen and met the newer appointees. There didn't seem to be resentment that he was to get his own branch up the hill. Perhaps the employees were grateful that the boss's son wouldn't be in the office with them. He kept himself busy catching up with essentials until lunchtime and then went to meet Sally.
Mike had met Sally in law school and had found her a valuable friend. Apart from one somewhat drunken fumble after a student party, Mike and Sally had kept their relationship platonic. When Sally joined a law company in Wellington shortly after Mike had begun as a junior in his father's firm, they had been glad that they were working in the same town again. Then a scholarship in England took him away and both he and Sally had been sorry to lose contact.
Now there was a lot to catch up on. Sally, who was now well established and well respected was delighted to hear that Mike had his own branch to manage. She was tempted to tell him about her friend in Merriton, but this was Mike's day and it was only a short time that they had together.
When lunch was over Mike returned to Merriton to familiarise himself with his new workplace.
At the office he went through the jobs to be dealt with before Jim Potter left for retirement. Jim had been holding down the branch until a replacement was found and it was soon clear to Mike that no one had tried very hard to find anyone other than himself. Well okay. If his father wanted him here in this small office being groomed for grander things in the central city then that was what he would do.
Many of the jobs would be completed by Jim before he left. Some that were in their early stages would be left to Mike. The rest they had to share.
Jim lifted a few notes from the pile. "Here's an interesting one. We have had a number of small-business people approach us for advice on how to recover money from a local group, The Princess Players. Their idea of being princely is to spend other people's money and not pay it back. They had some huge flop recently and owe a heap of money. I left it because someone young and energetic - that's you in case I'm being obtuse - has to get around town and find out how many creditors there are and who they are and then close down this group and share the cash. They may have $5 in the tea fund if we're lucky. It will be a lot of work for bugger-all return but they appear to be a menace. And they are an incorporated society so there will be a hassle to deregister them."
Mike shrugged. "Welcome to suburban small time law."
"It's not small to a jobbing carpenter on a budget of a few thousand who spends time and money building sets for a group that can't pay."
Mike nodded. "In the circumstances it won't be too difficult to get rid of them but that won't help our clients."