Chapter Eleven

Phryne's protest died on her lips. This was always going to have been a risk, and it was her own fault for failing to arrange for understudies. No-one was going to be able to fill in all these lines at this short notice.

Unless …

Brushing away Tarrant's urgent enquiry, she hitched up her bustle and scampered along the corridor and up the stairs to the pass-door leading to the auditorium. The first door she came to was the box in which Jack, Dot and Hugh were settling in to enjoy the show.

"Jack?" he glanced round in surprise as she stuck her head around the door. "A word, please?"

He leaped to his feet. "Phryne, what is it? Why aren't you backstage?"

"Jack, you've read through my scenes with me over and over. Do you think you could remember Jack's lines?"

"Well, yes, I'm quite sure I could. I knew the play anyway. Why?"

She explained rapidly, and he went a little pale. "But, Phryne, there are plenty of scenes you're not in where Jack has lines. I don't know those!

"Hardly any really big speeches, though. There's lots of question-and-answer, like the interview with Lady Bracknell – Aunt P will guide you through that. You can carry a newspaper some of the time and we'll put the right page of the script on it. And Jane's in the prompt corner, just for you."

She took his face in both her hands, and gazed lovingly into his eyes.

"Say you'll do it, Jack? Please? We'll tell the audience what's going on, so they'll understand."

"They won't," he said tersely. "They'll throw things."

"No, they won't, and if they do, it'll be assaulting a police officer, and Hugh can arrest them."

With that, he gave in.

Tarrant appeared before the curtain a few minutes later.

"Ladies and gentlemen; good evening, and a very warm welcome to His Majesty's Theatre. A brief announcement, if I may. First of all, many thanks to all of you for supporting our venture this evening. I am happy to say that, on the back of the ticket sales for the show, along with one or two individual charitable subscriptions, we have exceeded the sum necessary to allow building work on the Women's Hospital wing to begin."

At this, there was an outburst of spontaneous applause, and one or two cheers. Tarrant held up an imperious hand and the theatre quietened once more.

"We have encountered a slight hitch, however. Dr Ross McCafferty, who was to have played the role of Jack Worthing, is unfortunately detained in completing a complex but hopefully life-saving operation." There was a collective sigh, and some concerned muttering. "As I'm sure you realise, in a project of this kind, there is not much one can do by way of providing understudies. However, I am delighted to say that there was a gentleman in the audience who, while not as much rehearsed as Dr McCafferty, is familiar with the role of Jack Worthing, and has therefore kindly agreed to do his best to step in at what is extremely short notice."

There was a ripple of applause, and an expectant pause.

"I am therefore in the unusual position of being able to say that not only will the role of Algernon be played by an Algernon, but also that the role of Jack will be played by a Jack – to be specific, Detective Chief Inspector Jack Robinson!"

There was further round of applause, and delighted laughter.

"They're laughing at me already and I'm not even on stage yet," muttered Jack.

"They're laughing with you, and they're rooting for you, darling" Phryne whispered back.

"We hope very much that you will indulge us in what may be some slightly unorthodox performance practice; and most of all, that you enjoy a splendid evening. Ladies and Gentlemen – OUR PLAY!"

The crescendo was perfectly delivered. Sparky took the house lights down, Mr Young pulled the curtain up, and Algy was discovered at the pianoforte.

There was a brief discussion on the relative merits of champagne in bachelor and married households, and then it was time. Phryne placed a comforting hand in the small of Jack's back, and firmly propelled him onto the stage.

He'd been frantically reading his opening line over and over, from the copy of the Argus that had been thrust into his hand with the first page of script placed on top of it. As he stepped into the limelight, his mind, however, went completely blank, and he could only manage to smile faintly and hopefully at Algy.

He needn't have worried.

The moment he stepped onto the stage, the house erupted with applause. There were cheers. Dot and Hugh were on their feet, clapping until their hands stung.

Startled, Jack looked around the theatre, and then across at Phryne in the wings.

She grinned, and winked. Told you so.

The tumult died down, and when it felt quiet enough, Algy spoke up.

"How are you, my dear Ernest? What brings you up to town?"

He cleared his throat, which appeared to have an unaccountable lump in it. "Oh, pleasure, pleasure!" he replied.

He was carried through the first act on a wave of goodwill, and the others stepped up to make life as easy as possible for him. The hitherto Aimless Algernon managed not only to get his own blocking right but position Jack in the right places as well, with an arm taken here or a gesture there. Fresh sheets of script had been placed strategically on various items of furniture, and even on the plate of bread-and-butter. Jane, whenever he was near enough to hear, whispered his next line gently, allowing him to look up more often and interact with the others.

When his first dialogue with Phryne came, he laid down his newspaper to take her hand; they might as well have been in the parlour at 221B The Esplanade in the way they flung the witticisms back and forth. The show was, unusually, stopped by the delivery of a single line, with just the right amount of plaintiveness from the Chief Inspector.

"I think Jack, for instance, a charming name."

They were required to stand, holding one another's hands, gazing into one anothers' eyes, for almost five full minutes while the audience rolled in the aisles. Phryne's shoulders shook very slightly as her eyes laughed at his. He bit his lip to try to avoid corpsing.

Eventually, order was restored, and Phryne was able, regretfully, to deny the presence of Music in the name Jack.

Prudence's catechism was masterly. As Phryne had suggested, Jack had only to follow her lead, and meekly admitted to Knowing Nothing, which had the audience chortling again.

The unfortunate associations of luggage were established, and Act One finished on a high note. Act Two went smoothly, and the glorious garden backdrop received its own round of applause. Phryne and Leila gleefully sniped at one another over the (newly replaced) teacups; Jack nearly choked when he discovered his next page of script on the muffin-plate, and the one after being proferred by Algy underneath the teacakes, but recovered manfully.

Before Jack knew it, they were coasting into the close. He enthusiastically introduced everyone to his unfortunate brother Algy, and thanked Sir Bernard from the bottom of his heart for inserting the last page of script into the relevant copy of the Army Lists.

In any case, he had no need of prompt for the final, victorious, closing line; and the audience knew it so well that the 'vital Importance of Being Earnest' had scarcely left his lips when the house erupted for one last time.

The cast took their bows in turn, but Aunt Prudence, once she had graciously accepted her due, stood back and gestured Jack to stand forward for a bow all of his own. The whole audience rose to their feet, and Phryne, after letting him stand alone for a moment, stepped forward to give him a firm and enthusiastic kiss.

Sir Bernard looked at the rafters with a hint of concern; cheers like this might cause structural damage, after all.