A Girl's Guide to Fairy Tales

Chaper Three (part 2)

I found my mother pounding the pavement in front of the theatre’s white Grecian-style columns. ‘This is not five minutes sweetie,’ my mother reprimanded.

‘Sorry Dana, I had a little wardrobe malfunction. But it was for the best actually because you know what we were discussing a few moments ago?’

She nodded.

‘Well I think I found the perfect candidate,’ I beamed.

‘Oh how wonderful. Who is he?’

‘Well actually he’s my leading man and –’

‘Hold the door,’ a voice called from behind me. I slipped my fingers between the frame and pulled it open.

‘Alex?’ I said brightly. I turned to introduce him to my mother but of course Alex knew who she was.

‘Mrs Harris,’ he crooned. ‘What an honour it is to meet you. I’m Alex De Villiers.’

‘You’re Isobel’s leading man?’ she asked with certainty.

‘I am,’ he said with a soft strength.

‘How wonderful! You make a beautiful couple.’

‘Dana, please.’

‘Oh Isobel don’t be modest,’ she chided, even though neither of us really knew the meaning of the word. ‘And how is the play coming along Alex?’

Alex nodded enthusiastically. ‘Quite well actually Mrs Harris.’

‘Call me Dana darling. Oh but I’m just delighted to hear it’s going well. You see Isobel insists on keeping everything from me for fear of me meddling.’ She pulled a cigarette from her sterling silver holder and fumbled with the lighter.

‘Here, let me.’ Alex gently took the lighter from my mother’s hands. She smiled girlishly as their skin touched. ‘My own mother loves a run-down of each day,’ he said concentrating on the lighter. ‘She’s quite excited and she’s not even an actress like yourself.’

‘A retired actress,’ I said dryly.

Dana’s stare still managed to make me feel five-years old again. But her eyes soon returned to Alex so she could glide them across his entire exterior for the third time. I cringed as he clocked what she was doing.

‘You must forgive me Mr De Villiers. It’s just you would make a great model.’ She turned away blowing a sharp line of smoke into the air, which quickly dispersed. I hated those things.

‘I’m sorry?’ he said pinching his immaculate eyebrows together.

‘An artist’s model. That’s what I do now you see. I paint.’

His eyebrows rose fractionally, but whether in interest or disgust I couldn’t be certain. I wanted to explain that the only floppy things my mother painted were puppies’ ears and cats’ tails.

‘I have always loved fine art, in fact I very nearly took it as an A-level,’ he smiled looking at me just in time to catch me staring at his crotch. I kept a cool, calm, collected facade and threw him the smile that had won me the job on that toothpaste advert two years ago.

‘Oh really? Well how about us art lovers go for a drink?’ my mother sang. ‘Isobel and I were just going to head out for a couple of cocktails and we’ve heard each other’s stories dozens of times. Perhaps you could provide the entertainment this evening?’ She sapped the cigarette of more nicotine. ‘Perhaps you could tell me about this play you’re in seeing as my daughter enjoys keeping me in the dark?’

‘It would be my pleasure,’ Alex replied with a slight bow of the head. Such a gentleman.

As Alex sprinted off to put another ticket on his car, my mother began to hum her soft habitual hum, which meant she was pleased with herself.

‘And why are you so happy? I barked. ‘Don’t you think I would have got to the drinks stage eventually?’

‘Of course you would have sweetie. But we can’t dawdle about these things. Curtain-up is only a few weeks away.’

‘Mother, I have another five weeks of rehearsals left.’

‘Exactly, you have no time to lose.’