It was easy to forget that Vince had been raised in the forest these days. He never stopped to speak
to animals any more, or told stories about Bryan Ferry and his childhood adventures. He had lost
the slightly naïve wonder he used to regard the whole world with. Now he smirked and swaggered
(well, minced really) with an arrogant grace, that was completely divorced from the awkwardly
gangly teenager Howard had lured away from the vacuum that was state education with promises of
adventure and millet rotas.
Howard was shocked then, to discover that Vince had never heard of Cinderella. Later he realised
that there was no logical way that he would have known. Leopards are not known for their
knowledge of the collected works of the Grimm's Brothers and Bryan was more the lullaby than
the bed time story type.
"Howard," Vince bounded up excitedly
"What?" Howard muttered barely looking up from his copy of Global Explorer
"Can we see this?" he held up a poster, "It looks well trendy. It's about a girl who gets made a
princess because she had great shoes. Imagine that!"
Howard looked more carefully at the poster.
"Vince, this is for the panto. It's for kids," he said flatly, "Besides you already know what happens
in the end, so what's the point paying twenty quid to see some sad collection out of work soap actor
and and has-been pop stars torture us with two hours of double entendres and dodgy slapstick?"
"Why what happens? Does she win X-factor?" Vince asked with sincerity shining from his eyes.
Howard eyed him suspiciously.
"Are you trying to say that you never heard the story of Cinderella?" he asked incredulously, "You
know the words to every Gary Numan song ever written and you don't know what happens at the
end of Cinderella?"
"Yeah," said Vince churlishly, "So are we going or what?"
"I'll book the tickets," Howard sighed.
He had forgotten how loud it was. Even as a child he had found it all very unnecessary and tedious.
It was worth it though, to see Vince staring at the play wide-eyed, whooping for the good guys and
hissing at the bad guys. Howard had been ready to tackle any and all questions about girls playing
boys and middle aged men playing old women, with historical background notes on the theatre
prepared in bullet points, but Vince had taken it all in his stride. Typical. At the moment he was
admiring the actress who played Button's tight knee length trousers.
"Those are genius! Do you think that the Victorian butler look could be coming back?" he asked in
Howard's general direction. Howard chose to see this as a rhetorical question, as Vince would
hardly ask him his opinion on fashion trends in dead earnest.
During the interval, Vince bought a bag of liquorish all sorts "to share" (translation: he ate them and
picked out the plain black ones for Howard)
"Thanks for taking me Howard," he said with his cheeks full of sweets, looking more childlike than
he had in years. His free hand rested on Howard's armrest, his long fingers plucking at the worn nap
of the velvet.
The lights dimmed and the curtains reopened. The second act was beginning. Vince impulsively
grabbed Howard's hand and rested his head on his friend's shoulder. Ooh that's low, thought
Howard, wait until I can't make a fuss. It didn't actually bother him very much really. But it did
worry him that it didn't. He nervously reached out an arm and placed it self consciously around
Vince.