The Playwright: The Escapades of JM
Barrie
Chapter 12
Mistletoe And Champagne
A/N: (May 21) Hahaha I had SO much fun with Charles Frohman in this chapter! XD ! He's such a nut, and from reading his biography, he really was that way. He was real sarcastic. I don't think he got very nervous if he was in danger because on the Lusitania incident, he was making jokes even when he was floating in the water haha. The website said that he had a bad knee and couldn't swim, so he drowned. Sad. But I'm interested in this stuff, so I try not to let the sadness get to me lol.
Hah - in Science the other day, I was writing this chapter and...yup, you guessed it. Teacher yelled at me. Hahaha I take pride in getting in trouble for writing.
My mom is friends with this English teacher at the school she works at (Middle School...she teaches music) and she gave him Chapter 3 of this and he read and wrote some comments! I've deciphered his handwriting and this is what it said:
A very enjoyable read!
o Good dialogue
o great control of tenses between the game sequence and the narration.
o you gave the reminiscence real melancholy.
(and he put stars in the writing to show if something didn't belong in the time period - after looking them over, I noticed it was all in the narration; words or phrases.) Adressing the reader ("you") is very tricky. Discovering the best relation between narrator, reader, and characters is one of the most difficult tasks of an author.
Keep Writing - I'd like to read more.
Yay! I'll be printing up some more for him and I'll post his comments!
To make sure no one jumps to any conclusions, I will say it now: I do not ship Mary/James and I certainly do not ship Charles/James. You'll see why I say this as you read. And you'll want to; I think it's one of my favorite chapters!
BARRIEFACT: Among the distinguished pallbearers at Thomas Hardy's funeral were J. M. Barrie and George Bernard Shaw. Shaw, the tallest and most notable of the group, later remarked that, while he had looked impressive at the ceremony, someone else had outdone him: "Barrie - blast him! - looked far the most effective. He made himself look especially small."
OoOoO
Friday
Mrs. duMaurier was in a great rush to get out the door that evening. James and the boys were prodded along like sheep for about an hour, dumbly being dressed in suits and having their hair slicked back with a gallon of hair oil. Between Michael's crying and whining and Jack's rambunctiousness, (he had chased Peter around with a wet towel, attempting to snap it on his backside - until he nearly knocked over a vase containing Emma's Aunt Josephine) there was total confusion, until, twenty minutes before the party, they hopped onto a coach and were sent to Wincrest Avenue, on the other side of town.
A greeter at the door of Mrs. duMaurier's friend's towering mansion took their coats and attempted to make polite conversation for a while. The six of them broke free and were let loose in the massive entrance hall. People were scattered about, hundreds of people, unrecognizable, strange, high-society, primped up people. James felt underdressed even in his starched tuxedo, with not one single hair askew on his head.
James and the boys entered awkwardly, looking around like they were utterly scared of their new surroundings. Unlike the party of Davieses (with the exception of a Barrie), Emma knew everyone in the hall and had already found someone to talk to. She was making her way to another corner of the room to meet someone else.
Somewhere in those few seconds, the four boys had drifted away from James, and noticing this, he wandered to the buffet table. He planned to stand there the entire time and look like he was having a great time. He turned to the punch, and noticed, after drinking two glasses, that it contained alcohol. He put his glass down quickly and wiped his mouth off with a napkin. James never drank. Well, not never. Special events or dinners, he had a glass of wine, but never more than one. Without looking back at the table, he reached for a stuffed pastry and his hand found his mouth. The pastries seemed to be the only good thing about the party, and the family had only arrived a small while ago.
The chandelier above was gigantic. It was the only light in the room, though every corner of it was lit. Light reflected off of the tiny shards of glass hanging from it, sending majestic beams of light all around the massive collection of people. It hurt James's eyes to look up at.
"James!" came a voice from his side, breaking him out of his trance. James felt a hand slap his shoulder, and when he turned around, saw that it was Charles. Three little purple dots were on the producer's forehead. He blinked the stain from the blinding light away, and managed a half-hearted smile. He was relieved, really. At least he had someone to pal around with. "What a small world. What are you doing here?"
"I'm…I'm not sure, actually." Charles laughed, his own glass of punch squirming around in his hand. Between two other fingers of the same hand, he held what looked like an expensive cigar. The smoke that escaped constantly from it wound its way up to the painted ceiling, and circled high above their heads up into the chandelier.
"Charles, I need to ask you something." James lowered his voice suddenly.
"Sure." He leaned into his friend.
"Em...who exactly is hosting this party?" Charles looked around, a bit worried for the pair of them, and matched his voice to the playwright's own.
"I'm not sure. I was just about to ask you," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, through his mustache. James smiled. Just like Charles. "Emma drag you along?"
"Who else would have? Honestly, I wouldn't have come here on my own. I don't know a single solitary person here, do you?"
"Oh, a few people. Some actresses. I chatted with an old friend from New York for a little while. He's here to visit his wife...they live very separate lives." He moved his two index fingers back and forth to indicate that the couple was far apart. "I've been here for about a half hour. It seems like months, though."
"Who invited you?"
"Mr. Cannan."
"Mr. Cannan?" Gilbert Cannan?
"I heard the grandmother of the host...or hostess is making all of the desserts as we speak" that explained the pastry "and she's got a green thumb for baking. Or...a...iced thumb...? What would it be for desserts...?"
"Then I do know someone here." James began to glance around at the enormous party.
"You think so?" Charles looked around as well. "Ah. There." He pointed with the index finger of his right hand that wasn't intertwined in his punch glass and his cigar. James followed the ringed finger.
"What about Mary? Do you think she's here?"
"Well, it's a social event, it's like when the two of you were married: you'd never be seen at a social event without the other." James nodded. This had been very true. Charles sighed.
"I'll keep an eye out. I have to go talk to Oswald." He vaguely gestured to the left side of him. James nodded, gave a brief goodbye wave to his friend, and gave in to another glass of punch. He looked around again, paranoid about seeing Mary, and walked through the crowd trying to keep a low profile. A tall woman gasped and put a hand on his shoulder. He spun around in shock, nearly spilling punch down his front.
"James Barrie?"
"Yes…"
"Oh, it's so nice to see you again." James blinked.
"I'm sorry, I don't…"
"I'm a friend of your wife's. I was over for dinner one night."
"Oh, were you?" He squinted into the chandelier, trying to make eye contact with the woman. Her head wasn't doing a very good job at blocking the light.
"Yes – I'm Cecilia Jenkins."
"Oh, yes, I worked with your husband once; Carl?"
"He didn't mention that!"
"Well it was quite a few years ago. I'd imagine he'd forget..." James did a double-take past the woman, spotting Mary just a few feet away. She had met up with Gilbert, and was making her way back to the buffet table, where Charles had returned to and was now carefully tucking pastries into a napkin.
"Are you writing any plays currently?"
"Yes, I'm working on one, and we're doing Peter Pan at Easter at the Duke of York's...can you excuse me please? I'm sorry. It was nice meeting you again," he said quickly, shoved his punch into her hand, and walked fast to Charles.
"Charles," he whispered, and tapped his arm. The producer was startled, and dropped a few of his pastries. He bent to pick them up, but James grabbed onto his shoulder.
"No, look." He pointed forward, and Charles looked. They were edging closer.
"Make happy with them," he murmured, setting his napkin on the table behind him and shoving his cigar between his lips. "Hello, Mrs. Cannan," he greeted, his mustache and beard smiling almost insanely. "How are you?" Mary nodded.
"I've been fine, thank you, Mr. Frohman." She didn't look at James. Not even a glance. "Have you met Gilbert?"
"There's the old devil!" The playwright looked up at Charles, a look of disbelief on his face. He pumped Mary's husband's arm hard with both hands, and the man winced slightly, managing a smile. "It's such a pleasure to meet you at last."
"Likewise," Mr. Cannan said, pulling away carefully and holding his arm with his other hand. Charles's expression laughed at the poor fool, but he didn't seem to notice.
"James, you've met Gilbert." It was the first time Mary had looked at him.
"Yes, how do you do," James said dully, with a fake, strained smile. He turned promptly to pick up a pastry and a new pre-poured glass of punch from the table so that both hands were occupied and he had no chance of shaking with him. "Oh – sorry. I…" He indicated that he couldn't shake. Gilbert shook his head, forgiving him.
"Mary has told me that she auditioned for your play a few days ago, Mr. Barrie." James, whose eyes had wandered away, looked up at the mention of his name. He blinked. "Mr. Barrie…"
"Oh - yes. Yes, she auditioned very well. You should begin to watch your mail for news from the theater." Mary felt a bit embarrassed now, and kept her eyes away from her ex husband. A thought crept into her head, and she wondered if she were still married to James, would she still audition for one of his plays?
"Well, that's very good. I look forward to the performance." Gilbert smiled a real smile alongside James and Charles's artificial ones, and put an arm around Mary. James flinched.
"Ah, yes, and of course Peter Pan on Easter." The walking advertisement. James believed that his producer had done far more advertising than even he had himself.
"Yes, we'll be buying tickets, of course." Mary turned u the corners of her mouth during a short pause where Charles struggled for conversation. James made no effort.
"So, anything else new? River of money still flowing your way?" Gilbert still didn't get that the joke was on him, and laughed.
"Yes, and I'm sure it's branching off to your doorstep as well."
"As always." Charles lifted his punch glass to his lips.
"It'll keep flowing. And we'll need it soon; what with a baby on the way..." Charles's eyes grew as big as golf balls and he choked on his punch. James immediately began patting him on the back and making sure he was alright. Mary's face tinted red and she became flustered. "Will you excuse me?" She turned and left. Gilbert followed, clueless as to what was happening.
"Baby?" Charles coughed.
"I didn't know."
"Neither did I."
"Nor would I suspect." The crowd of people began to applaud the miniature orchestral ensemble in the corner of the room, and began to dance, as they started to play again. Charles set down his punch.
"Beautiful. Now we have to dance," he grumbled, and coughed one last time into his sleeve. He looked at James, who gave a sarcastic smile and held his hand out. "What? What are you doing?" The playwright laughed.
"May I have this dance?" Charles laughed back.
"You can have it, but I wouldn't recommend that you keep it very long." And so Charles set his cigar down and they danced and laughed all over the room. People stared, but knowing who it was, they didn't make themselves stick out. The song sped up and they danced faster, while the people on the floor seemed to make way for them, parting at just the right times.
"I'm starting to feel ridiculous, James." Charles laughed, though. He had just pictured the two of them. How must they look? James smiled. He knew that if he was witnessing this through an adult's eyes, he'd turn his back and pretend that he didn't see them. But they kept dancing, not caring at all. Things were good now. A new play, an old moneymaking friend for Charles on the way back to the the theater. They had a reason to let themselves go for a while, and it felt good. After a few minutes into the song, however, they had to stop. One person had decided not to make way for them.
"Hello, Emma." James cleared his throat and let go of Charles.
"A bit too much alcohol, Mr. Barrie?"
"Possibly." Charles's eyes had a funny gloss over them. He'd probably laughed himself to tears. Mrs. duMaurier raised her eyebrows.
"I have a reputation to maintain, James. And with the entire city knowing that I'm here with you, I would be proud if they didn't discover that you were," she looked from Charles to James in disgust. There was the old Emma. "Homo-sex-sual." Charles snorted, but this didn't go over well. Emma was not enthusiastic at all to remain, turned with a grimace, and left them alone.
"I'm afraid I'm far from that," James said to particularly no one, and scratched his head. Charles shook his.
"I'm afraid you're living with an old bat." A straight-backed man came around with champagne, and the both of them took a glass, after Charles had insisted that his friend take one. James sighed. "I won't argue. But I won't say I like it either." He took a sip. Much stronger than the champagne."James." James turned. What does she want, exactly? he thought. "Yes?" Mary looked at a half-drunk Charles, who had already downed half of his champagne in the last thirty seconds.
"Will you dance with me?" Charles looked at James with surprise.
"Of course." He handed his glass to the producer, took Mary's arm, and walked off into a group of people. They began to dance as the song slowed. Who should start the conversation?
"So, you're here with Charles."
"Emma seems to think the same thing." Mary frowned.
"That's not what I meant." James shrugged.
"I wouldn't think it of you either. What with a baby on the way." She bit her lip.
"James, I don't want it to be like this."
"So you're sorry you left."
"Why do you think I've written letters?"
"God knows why you've written letters! I hardly have time to give a thought to Gilbert visiting a doctor to investigate the bump on his finger or the mole on his back." He shivered.
"I never wrote a letter about that." She looked away. A long ten seconds passed.
"Happy Christmas," James mumbled.
"Happy Christmas," Mary said back.
"This is a Christmas party, isn't it?" She smiled. One thing she remembered before the tense times between them was his sense of humor.
"Yes."
"I'm actually not certain who it's for. Mrs. duMaurier dragged the boys and me along."
"I was invited by someone who was invited by the host. And would you like to know the truth?"
"Yes, I would."
"I don't know who it's for either."
OoOoO
Charles swaggered over to James an hour later, and placed his hand heavily on the playwright's shoulder. Peter looked at him blankly, and blinked. He was the only boy who had gotten back to James. The remaining three were still off mingling, as their grandmother urged them to.
"Good evening, Mr. Frohman," he said smoothly.
"Good evening, Pater...Peter - Paul?"
"Er...Peter, can you go find your brothers please? I'll look for your grandmother." Peter nodded, gave a brief smile at Charles, and disappeared into the crowd.
"How many?"
"Goodness, James, I don't even know anymore." He took another long swig of his champagne, but James snatched it out of his hand as soon as it had begun to lower from his mouth. He set it on a small table near the wall and led his friend back to the buffet table, careful that he didn't try to steal anyone else's drinks on the way.
"Don't move, Charles, I'll be back in a minute." Without waiting for a response, James skipped off to look for Emma duMaurier. He expected her to be in the middle of an enormous group of people, and that's exactly where he found her.
"Emma - "
"Are you Mr. Barrie?" A woman looked at James, her eyes sparkling.
"Yes, I'm Mr. Barrie." Emma lifted her head at the sound of that gentle Scottish accent of his. Apparently she'd missed that her name had been called.
"Oh, Emma's been telling us all about you!" James raised his eyebrows. No doubt she'd complained to her girlfriends about how horrible he was at home, and how badly he acted...
"Did she? Well, I'm glad I've entered another person's conversation this evening," he said stupidly, not knowing what else to say. The ladies all laughed nonetheless Emma glanced at the enormous decorated clock on the wall, then slipped away as unnoticed as a church mouse. James, seeing this, pulled the group of women in closer and whispered.
"What did she say about me?"
"She said...well, knowing Emma duMaurier, I shouldn't tell you this." James had felt for a fleeting second before, that the boys' grandmother had maybe said something good about him for once, but this comment by the lady in the pale pink ball gown somewhat crushed his hopes.
"It's alright, she won't know."
"Very well, then. She said you're possibly the most kind and most wonderful gentleman that she's ever met in her life."
OoOoO
James escorted the man with the perfectly groomed beard, the expensive suit, the engraved cane, the tall hat, and the confused brain out of the house.
"We never did find out who that party was for," he murmured to Charles once they had left the doorstep. He was glad that his friend could not take the crystal glasses from the home and somehow have gotten any more drunk, otherwise he might not have been able to comprehend anything James said. Or put each sound of the words in the correct order.
"Personally, I think it was that woman in the bright orange dress." James knit his eyebrows, trying to remember the guests.
"I don't think there was anyone in a bright orange dress, Charles." He looked at Charles, who had sort of a confused, sullen look on his face.
"I don't remember." James sighed. He'd have to ask Emma, who was a more reliable source at the moment, when they all got home.
"What's taking so long? I told them that I'd be outside." James and Charles stood beside the coach, waiting for the other five people in the party to exit the house. Charles swayed, even though his eyes had only turned a bit to look at James. James did a double-take at the man.
"Hang on a minute. Don't move." He ran back inside. Charles threw up his arms.
"Why does he keep thinking I'm going to run a lap around London while he's gone? I won't move, James," he said to particularly nobody. The cab driver looked at him as though he was insane, though. Charles gave him a hello, told him to continue to hold the cab, and climbed into the coach car. James found the five lingering near the buffet table. Emma was busy stuffing pastries into Michael's arms. The playwright walked over to them, gave them each a look, took his own pastry, and walked back outside. Mrs. duMaurier immediately changed character, sniffed dignifiedly, and smoothed out her dress.
"Come, children," she said, and led them down the steps.
OoOoO
"We're going to the cottage tomorrow?" Michael seemed to have enough excitement for two people.
"Yes, we are," James said, tucking in each of the boys one at a time. "We have to come back the afternoon of the next day. So be sure to bring your presents for everyone. We'll be chopping down a tree." He smiled at this. This was all going to be a lot of fun.
"Yes!" Jack said, bouncing on his bed.
"Is grandmother coming?" Peter said. James nodded. None of the boys looked too pleased about this statement, but were excited nonetheless. Of course, they loved going to the cottage.
"But now we have to go to bed so that we won't be tired when we leave tomorrow afternoon." James did his usual route around the children's beds, tucking them in, giving goodnight hugs and kisses, and wishing them sweet dreams. Finally, all four of them were dozing off, and James was closing the door to their room and making his way to his own. He changed, washed, and brushed his teeth, then got in bed. Just in time, Porthos ambled into the room and jumped in with him, ready to get to sleep himself and to be present for James's reading.
October 12, 1872
Mother and I went shopping today - just the two of us, without Gerald or Father. She bought me a new bonnet, and new socks with lace on them. She told me that I could wear them to church on Sunday. That's in three days.
I do not like that Abby Parker in school. Today during Math class, she pulled my ponytail, tugging the ribbon straight out of my hair. She told me it was an accident and that I shouldn't go around "with that thing sticking out of the back of my head." Then she told the teacher on me, lying to her that i spilled my ink bottle on her essay, and I had to stay after school to do lines. I'll get her for it, you'll see.
A/N: haha Tara, you walking advertisement. I still remember when you put that in a review oh so long ago. Was it a review? Or an IM? It was something. Anywho, I really didn't proofread this much, but I will be reading it anyway because it's hilarious, I think. So, if you saw any errors, tell me.
HAHA OI-OI-OI - THIS IS THE BEST! James smiled, "Heads rolling is better than eyes rolling." Great story, mate - better'n mine!
Frohman sighed, "What's that supposed to mean? My head can only take so much cryptic stuff, James." that's great! hahaha! you know how hard i laughed!
REVIEW REPLIES FOR CHAPTER 11:
Kris - (for the review to my author's note) Sorry I didn't put this reply in chapter 11...I forgot about it haha. I don't remember if I've read anything you've written...but I'm sure it's not so horrible. Thanks for all the nice and happy comments (smiles) they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
(for chapter 11) Yeah...you'll probably see me in other stories,
though...as soon as I get some ideas. When Harry Potter comes around,
I'll be back in that category. Eew Orli and Leo. icky. Did you see the
Aviator?
KatrinaKaiba - Haha I write the best Charles Frohman in the seven
seas! I love CF, he's great. Thanks very much for telling me my bad
chapter was grand haha. And for reading/reviewng. hehe. Love ya
for it! I look forward to more Opportune Moment - keep writing!
Lizella - More Charles comments! Yay! Hope you liked him in this chapter. (giggles) I'm sorry about the A/N but they keep readers, I think. And after I post them, I get more reviews for the chapter before it. lol. Keep readingg!
H.M. Chandler - Eew I had a Math State Test a few weeks ago and they gave us this retarded Social state test to TEST THE QUESTIONS. We didn't get graded, but it was still stupid. Dumb 8th grade testing. I'll read if you write - and read and send reviews. lol. Talk to you later!
XHeartofaDragonX - Charles Frohman. Is. Amazing. Hah! And now you'll have to beg me to post Chapter 13...and as long as I get REVIEWS..I can. So. Look out.
