The Strangling on the Stage

by Simon Brett

  Hester Winstone was silent. Tears were beginning to well up in her hazel eyes.

  ‘But, as I say, I’m sure nobody else noticed,’ Jude reassured her. ‘It’s just, being introduced to a group of people for the first time, you see things in a detached way … you know, before you get to know any of them.’

  Hester nodded, hoping, but not convinced, that what Jude had said was true.

  ‘So you’ve got a bit of a history with Neville Prideaux, have you?’

  ‘A very brief history. I hadn’t met him a month ago.’

  ‘But you did meet him during the time that your husband’s been in New Zealand?’

  ‘Yes,’ the woman said wretchedly.

  ‘And he came on to you?’

  ‘It wasn’t as obvious as that. Not like Ritchie. He … Neville … he kind of took me seriously. At least appeared to take me seriously.’

  ‘You mentioned Ritchie. So he came on to you, did he?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘He came on to me the minute I was introduced to him,’ said Jude.

  ‘Yes, he does that to everyone.’ Hester Winstone coloured. ‘He’s a very attractive man.’

  ‘He certainly thinks he is.’

  ‘But he really is,’ Hester insisted, and Jude was forced to admit it was true. Though Ritchie Good’s chat-up line had been crass beyond words, Jude had still felt a tug of attraction towards him.

  She banished such thoughts from her mind and said, ‘One thing I don’t quite get is that today was the first rehearsal for The Devil’s Disciple …?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘… and it’s only in the last few weeks that both Ritchie and Neville have come on to you …?’

  ‘Well, as I say, with Neville it wasn’t so much “coming on”.’

  ‘All right. But how did you come to be involved in SADOS before this production started rehearsing?’

  ‘Ah well, it was the end of the panto …’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘SADOS always do their pantomime at the end of January. And it was round then that Mike went off to New Zealand … and I was kind of at a loose end, so I got in touch with SADOS to see if there was anything I could do to help out, and they needed some people for front of house during the panto, so that’s how I became involved.’

  ‘And were Ritchie and Neville both in the show?’

  ‘Not acting, no. Ritchie just came to see one performance and then he kind of chatted me up in the Cricketers afterwards.’

  ‘And did you mind him chatting you up?’

  ‘No, I was flattered … just having someone taking some notice of me.’

  Jude recognized this as another comment on the state of Hester’s marriage, but didn’t pursue it. Instead she asked, ‘And what about Neville?’

  ‘He wasn’t acting in the panto, but he’d written the lyrics for the songs, so he was around quite a lot during the run.’

  ‘And you kind of “got together”?’

  Hester Winstone blushed furiously. ‘One evening after the show we’d had a few in the Cricketers, and my car was being serviced, so Neville offered to give me a lift home, and I invited him in for a drink and … I don’t think anything would have happened if we hadn’t been drinking.’

  ‘And did it happen again?’

  ‘No, just the once. And then suddenly Neville seemed to lose interest. Didn’t reply to my texts or calls.’

  ‘And you were hurt because you loved him?’

  ‘I don’t know about love. Maybe I convinced myself at the time that was the reason. I don’t know. I just felt dreadful. I can’t think why I let it happen.’

  ‘You were lonely.’

  ‘Yes, maybe, but that’s no excuse, is it? And in my head I’ve gone through so many scenarios about how I would tell Mike, but that was assuming that Neville still wanted me and … I don’t know. I’m just so confused.’

  ‘From what you say, it sounds as if you’ve never been unfaithful before.’

  ‘Good Lord, no.’ Hester sounded appalled by the very idea. ‘And I wouldn’t have done, I mean, not unless I thought I actually was, at least at that moment, in love with Neville. And now I feel just so confused. And Mike’s back next week, and I’ll have to tell him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, I can’t not, can I?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ Jude asserted. ‘In my view far too many people rush to tell their partners about their infidelity. In very few cases does it do any good, and in many it destroys a perfectly salvageable relationship.’

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ And there was a spark of hope in Hester Winstone’s hazel eyes.

  ‘I most certainly do.’

  ‘But when I see Mike, I’m sure I’ll just blurt it out.’

  ‘Well, curb the instinct. Don’t give him more ammunition with which to criticize you.’

  ‘But I haven’t said he does criticize me.’

  ‘I extrapolated that, Hester.’

  ‘Oh, did you?’ She sounded a little crushed. And guilty. But also reassured. Jude’s recommendation that she shouldn’t tell her husband about her lapse had clearly brought her comfort.

  ‘Oh dear, I don’t know what to do.’ But now Hester sounded weary rather than desperate.

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do. You are going to sit here while I open a bottle of wine and pour you a drink. Then I’ll cook us some supper. Then I think you should probably stay here the night.’

  Hester grimaced. ‘Love to, but I’ve got to get back for the dogs. If they aren’t let out … well, you can imagine what will happen …’

  ‘I think I can. What about the drink and the supper?’

  The woman grinned as she replied, ‘That’d be wonderful.’

  ‘And when you go back home, you’ll be all right, will you?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be fine,’ said Hester Winstone.

  And Jude believed her.

  SIX

  The following morning over coffee at High Tor Jude gave Carole an edited version of her conversation with Hester Winstone. Though the woman wasn’t a client, their time together had been almost like a therapy session, so Jude kept the details of the infidelity to herself. She just said that Hester was clearly in a bad state, but talking things through had, she hoped, helped. It would have been different if she and Carole were working on a case together. Then she would have recounted everything that had passed between them. But there was no crime involved here, just a cry for help from a very unhappy woman.

  Carole, needless to say, couldn’t wait to express her views of the SADOS members. ‘Really! Who do they think they are? When I was growing up, we had a word for people like that, and it was “show-offs”. Can’t they see how ridiculous they appear?’

  Jude shrugged. ‘They’re just doing something they enjoy. I don’t see there’s much harm in it.’

  ‘Well, I’d hate to be involved with a group like that.’

  ‘No problem. No one was rushing to make you join them, were they?’

  ‘No,’ Carole conceded.

  ‘Have you ever done any acting?’

  ‘No.’ There was a shudder at the very idea.

  ‘Not even at school?’

  ‘Well, I was in a Nativity Play.’

  ‘What part?’

  Carole coloured at the recollection as she said, ‘I was the Ox.’

  ‘One of the great parts,’ said Jude with a grin.

  ‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. And I think my parents were at least as embarrassed as I was. The Seddons have never been people for putting their heads above the parapet.’

  ‘No, I can believe that,’ said Jude.

  It was later that afternoon in Woodside Cottage, while she was reading a book about kinesiology written by a friend of hers, that Jude’s phone rang. The male voice at the other end was rich, confident and vaguely familiar.

  ‘Is that Jude?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, good, I’m glad I got the
right number.’

  ‘Mm.’ She still couldn’t place him.

  ‘We met yesterday evening in the Cricketers.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘My name’s Ritchie Good.’

  ‘Ah. And to what do I owe the honour of this call?’

  ‘I just wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘Well, you seem to have achieved your wish.’

  ‘Mm.’ He let a silence dangle between them. ‘You made quite an impression on me.’

  ‘I’m flattered. Slightly surprised, because we can’t have spoken for more than a couple of minutes.’

  ‘It often doesn’t take long.’

  Jude groaned. ‘That’s almost as corny as your “Where have you been hiding all my life” line.’

  ‘At least you remember it.’

  ‘Only for its cheesiness.’

  ‘Touché. Anyway, I was wondering if we could meet for a drink or something.’

  ‘A drink might be all right. I’m not so sure about the “something”.’

  ‘Let’s start with a drink then …’

  Jude didn’t really know why she was playing along with him. If she hadn’t already decided that Ritchie Good was nothing but an ego on legs, this phone conversation would have convinced her. And yet here she was, responding in kind to his rather elaborate innuendo. Maybe it was just that it had been a long time since she’d flirted with a man. She was still smarting after the end of a pretty serious relationship with a man called Piers Targett, so wasn’t looking for anything beyond casual. But having a drink with an attractive bullshitter … well, there might be worse ways of spending an idle hour.

  So she found herself agreeing to meet Ritchie Good at six o’clock in the Crown and Anchor.

  The fact that she had chosen Fethering’s only pub as a rendezvous was a measure of how little Jude was anticipating any kind of relationship. Had the assignation been with anyone who really interested her, she would opted for another venue, a place from where the news of her tryst did not immediately go straight round the village. There was security for her in the Crown and Anchor. It put her on her home base, and there’d be people she knew there – Ted Crisp the landlord, his bar manager Zosia and some of the regulars.

  Jude also told herself that she might get more information from Ritchie about Hester Winstone and what had reduced her to a suicidal state. The woman had, after all, said that Ritchie had chatted her up. But Jude knew that was really only an excuse. There was also the fact that he was a very attractive man.

  He was late. Jude was already installed in an alcove with a large Chilean Chardonnay, and had already heard Ted’s Joke of the Day (‘Where are the Seychelles?’ ‘I don’t know – where are the Seychelles?’ ‘On the Seyshore.’).

  Ritchie Good apologized for his tardiness. ‘Sorry, I got held up at work.’

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I work in a bank.’

  ‘Oh, are you one of those pariahs of contemporary society who keeps getting whacking bonuses?’

  ‘I wish. No, I work in the Hove branch of HSBC. On the Life Insurance side.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘I see you’ve got a drink.’ No suggestion he should buy her another one. Then again she had only had a couple of swallows from the glass. ‘I’ll get something for myself.’

  He came back from the bar with what Jude knew, because she’d overheard him ordering it, was half a pint of shandy. ‘Can’t drink much,’ he said, ‘because I’m rehearsing tonight.’

  ‘I thought The Devil’s Disciple rehearsed on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays.’

  ‘Yes, they do. Tonight isn’t for that. I’m playing Benedict in the Fedborough Thespians’ Much Ado.’

  ‘At the same time as you’re doing The Devil’s Disciple?’

  ‘Yes. Davina knew the deal when she persuaded me to do Dick Dudgeon. The Much Ado is on at the end of March, so I’ll have to miss a few Disciple rehearsals round then.’

  ‘So how long have you been a member of SADOS?’

  ‘The Saddoes?’ he said, enjoying the mispronunciation. ‘I’m not actually a member.’

  ‘But you have done shows for them before?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve done shows for most of the local amdrams, but I’ve never been a member of any of them.’ He smiled a complacent smile. ‘Sooner or later they all need me to help them out.’

  ‘So you audition for all of them in turn, do you?’

  He chuckled. ‘I don’t do auditions. I get asked to play parts.’

  ‘Is that usual in the world of amateur dramatics?’

  ‘Not usual. But it’s how I work. All amdrams have a problem with gender imbalance. There are always more women available. That’s why they’re always looking for plays with large female casts. Getting enough men’s always tough. Getting enough men who can actually act is harder still. So no, I don’t audition. I wait till I’m asked to play a part.’

  Jude hadn’t been aware that there was a star system in amateur dramatics, but clearly there was. And, at least in the Fethering area, Ritchie Good was at the centre of it. The original big fish in a small pond. She almost winced at the conceit of the man.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘we don’t want to talk about me.’ A statement which Jude reckoned might be one hundred per cent inaccurate. He brought the practised focus of his blue eyes on to her brown ones. ‘I was really bowled over by meeting you last night, Jude.’

  ‘Were you?’

  ‘Yes, it’s not often that I see a woman and just … pow! You had a big effect on me. I kept waking up in the night thinking of you.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘Would I lie to you?’

  ‘You really shouldn’t set up questions like that for me, Ritchie. They’re too tempting.’

  ‘Are you saying you think I would lie to you?’

  ‘I’m damn sure of it.’

  ‘Oh.’ He looked a little discomfited. Perhaps his chat-up lines usually got a warmer response. ‘Anyway, I thought it would be nice to meet.’

  ‘And here we are – meeting. Is it as nice as you anticipated?’

  His face took on the hurt expression of a small boy. ‘You’re a bit combative, Jude.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. I just have a finely tuned bullshit detector.’

  ‘Ah. So you reckon I’m a bullshitter?’

  ‘Isn’t self-knowledge a wonderful thing?’

  ‘And the possibility doesn’t occur to you that I might be sincere?’

  ‘You have it in one.’

  ‘I do find that a bit hurtful,’ he said in a voice that was playing for sympathy. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m a creature of impulse. I see someone I fancy, I want to get to know that person, find out more about them.’

  Jude was silent. She believed his latest statement as little as she had believed his previous ones. Ritchie Good was not, in her estimation, ‘a creature of impulse’. She reckoned everything he did was a product of considerable calculation. And she was interested to know the real reason why he had arranged this meeting. His implication that, on first seeing her in the Cricketers, he had experienced a sudden coup de foudre did not convince her.

  ‘So,’ she said, taking the conversation on a completely new tack, ‘first proper rehearsal for The Devil’s Disciple tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is it going to be good?’

  ‘Dick Dudgeon’s a very good part,’ said Ritchie Good. It was the archetypal actor’s response. Never mind about the rest of the production, I’ve got a good part.

  ‘Have you worked with Davina before?’

  ‘Oh yes, a few times. I like her as a director. She’s very open to everyone’s ideas.’

  Jude didn’t think she was being over-cynical to translate Ritchie’s last sentence as: she listens to my ideas and lets me play the part exactly as I want to.

  Time to home in on what she really wanted to ask him. ‘I was having a chat with Hester last night …’

  ‘Oh?’ There was a sli
ght tension in him, a new alertness at the mention of the name. ‘What, in the Cricketers?’

  ‘No, actually after she’d left. We met in the car park.’ Which was as much as she wanted to say about the circumstances of their encounter.

  ‘Really? Was she all right?’ Which struck Jude as a slightly unusual question from someone who’d been in the same pub with the woman the evening before.

  ‘Oh, fine,’ she said, finessing the truth. ‘Have you known her long, Ritchie?’

  ‘Met her once before last night. I went to see the SADOS panto a few weeks back. They’re always pretty dreadful, but I feel I should go out of loyalty. The trouble is, it’s basically knockabout slapstick, but Neville Prideaux insists on writing these dreadfully pretentious lyrics for the songs, and the two elements just don’t fit together. You know, his lyrics are all about the cigarettes of hope being stubbed out in the ashtrays of dreams. God knows who he thinks he is – Jacques Brel? But that’s how they’ve always done the panto in recent years, and SADOS are not very good at change. Then again, Neville seems to have an unassailable position in the society. They all seem to think the sun shines out of his every available orifice.’

  ‘What’s his background? Was he involved in professional theatre?’

  ‘Good Lord, no. Schoolteacher all his life. At some public school, I can’t remember the name. Head of English and in charge of all the drama. Directed every school play, ran the Drama Department like his own private fiefdom, as far as I can gather. And now he’s retired, so he’s vouchsafing SADOS the benefit of his wisdom and experience.’

  The sarcasm in his last words reminded Jude of what she had felt in the Cricketers, that there was considerable rivalry between Ritchie Good and Neville Prideaux, both big beasts in the local amdram circles.

  ‘Anyway,’ asked Ritchie, ‘do you know Hester well?’

  ‘Met her for the first time yesterday evening.’

  ‘In the Cricketers car park?’

  ‘Well, I’d been introduced to her in the pub, but it was in the car park that I got the chance to talk to her.’

  ‘What about?’ Ritchie’s urgency was making him drop his guard of nonchalance.