Jill Churchill: A Midsummer Night's Scream

"We've found something you'll like," Shelley told Ms. Bunting. "Would you like to come up the escalator with us to fetch it, or would you rather take a table and save it for us in our favorite restaurant? The restaurant is much closer. And you could order our drinks while we're gone."

"The second option sounds best to me. I'm absolutely parched," the older woman admitted. "I wasn't expecting all this heat."

They made sure they settled her by a window, and headed upstairs to buy the jewelry container for her flosses. Shelley slapped down a credit card and they rushed back down to the ground floor as soon as the clerk produced the receipt.

Ms. Bunting was already settled in, with a bottle of white wine for herself and Shelley, and the rose-flavored iced tea that Jane had requested.

Shelley reached into the department store bag and brought out the jewelry container, which was almost identical to the ones she and Jane had.

"Oh!" Ms. Bunting exclaimed. "How dear of you pretty girls to get this. You must let me reimburse you."

"No, it's a gift. We're all too hungry to mess around with money right now," Shelley proclaimed. "Besides, Jane and I wanted you to have it as a gift."

"Then I'll pay for our lunch," Ms. Bunting said.

"Let's just be nuisances and ask for separate checks and you and Shelley can split the cost of the wine," Jane suggested.

They all agreed that this was fair. They studied the extensive menu and all chose different salads and entrées to share around.

"Would you like for me to go back to the car and get your flosses and needles while you two place our order?" Jane asked Ms. Bunting.

"I can't let you do that. It's too hot out there. Besides, it will give me something fun to do at leisure when I'm back at my hotel," the older woman said.

They fell to gossiping about the cast, and agreed wholeheartedly that the most annoying by far was the director. Ms. Bunting said, "John

and I seldom do amateur productions like this. It was only because we have family and friends here. I hadn't even looked at the script until we were on the plane, and was shocked at how silly it is."

"Shelley and I purloined two scripts yesterday," Jane said, "and glanced over them. We agreed that it's obvious he's never even read a mystery. The reader or viewer deserves to know whodunit and why at the end. And he has no sense of humor. Are you sure you can't back out?"

"An actor never backs out," Ms. Bunting exclaimed. "No matter how bad the script is, we'll bring what talent we still possess to it. We'll just warn our local friends not to attend, as it's a miserable script."

They didn't get any further with their criticisms because the salads arrived. All three were gigantic. "I'll never get through this and the pasta dish I ordered," Ms. Bunting said.

"They're used to guests like us. They'll box it up for us to take home," Jane reassured her.

At the end of the meal, Ms. Bunting was looking tired. "I'm seldom up as early as I was today, except on film shoots. They often start at dawn if they're shooting outside scenes, in order to get all the natural light they can."

"We'll take you right straight back to your hotel for a nap. I may take one, too," Jane said. "This heat is exhausting."

As they walked her to the hotel entrance, Jane asked, "Would you like Shelley to take your things up to your room for you?"

"No, thanks. I'm not so tired that I can't carry these treasures, not to mention my leftover lunch. See you tonight — and thank you for the lovely day."

"She was really fading away," Jane said as she squeezed her way back into traffic.

"I wonder how old she really is?" Shelley asked.

"I don't think we'll find out. The older the actress, the younger she says she is," Jane replied.

"Not anymore. Jane Fonda, Cher, Sally Field, and a lot of others are bragging about passing fifty these days."

Jane said, "But they all still look thirty-eight. Times and plastic surgery have changed our perception of age since Gloria Bunting's heyday. If there ever really was one for her."

"What do you mean by that?" Shelley asked.

"I saw them on a local morning news show," Jane explained. "The interviewer queried them about what movies they'd made, and both of them turned up their noses at films and said they preferred live theater. They listed a whole lot of plays that they'd been in. Neither the interviewer nor I had ever heard of any of them."

"But you've admitted already that you don't like live acting. And maybe those plays were never made into movies," Shelley said.

"No, I don't like live amateur acting. Come to think of it, though, I do prefer movies, especially when I can buy or rent them and fast-forward or stop them when the spaghetti water starts boiling over."

"So we're guessing that Gloria and John Bunting are a sort of third-rate Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn," Shelley said with the slightest hint of criticism of Jane's opinion.

"That's not as bad as it sounds," Jane explained. "Lots of people in any field of the arts can probably eke out a good living doing first-rate work and not gaining enormous fame from it. It's certainly true of writers. I've read a lot of good books by writers who aren't famous, and probably aren't rich, but who tell a good story. It's probably true of actors and artists as well. They make their own niche and fill it."

"I suppose that's right," Shelley said.

"So who are the caterers tonight?" Jane asked. "An outfit calling themselves 'The Ultimate Meal.' "

"Do you think it will be?"

"At least it's a better name than 'The Ultimate Snack.' "

The rehearsal that evening was a brief walk-through. The main purpose seemed to be to work out details of the play with the two young volunteer art school students who were preparing the

single background set, the professional prop master (who was probably being paid), and the costumer (also paid, Jane and Shelley speculated), who needed to measure the actors. Apparently lighting would come later.

"And maybe a sound person to mike the actors," Shelley commented idly.

"I thought real actors had to have the voices to project without a mike?" Jane asked Shelley.

"I guess so, at least this time. If it was something like a musical review, I imagine they would need microphones."

Jane grinned. "Thank goodness that we don't have to learn all about this. All you and I need to consider is food."

As the actors were walking through the first scene again, Bill Denk said, "Madam and sir, Cook says luncheon will be ready at one o'clock."

"I asked her to be ready at quarter to one," Ms. Bunting said in the haughty voice of Mrs. Edina Weston.

"I'll remind her, madam," he said and turned briefly to the audience and said, "The old trout" "What did you say?" Imry asked.

"Said? Nothing," Bill said.

Jane thought it was funny but also a bit spooky that Bill Denk could cast his voice to the audience but not be heard on stage.

There was no need for Jane and Shelley to be introduced to the newcomers, but they were sur‑

prised to see one familiar figure. It was Tazz from the needlepoint lesson they'd taken the day before.

Tazz greeted them after putting a dress bag over an adjoining chair with great care. "I didn't expect to run into you two here," she said with a smile as she sat down in the back row of the theater, where Jane and Shelley had taken refuge until the caterers arrived.

"Nor did we expect you," Jane said with pleasure.

"We're here to test out caterers for my husband's business dinners," Shelley explained. "They're just making snack suppers for the cast and crew. And you, Tazz? What's your role here?"

"I do the costumes for most of the local productions, and a few costume parties. Mostly around Halloween."