A Comedian Dies Read Free Page B

cheated. Still, she didn’t come back and, at the end of the dance, the group spread out in another depleted fan, the curtain fell to a rattle of applause and the lights came up for the interval.
    Walter Proud was leading the four of them to the bar in the hopeless quest of an interval drink, when he stopped and greeted a stocky man with a small bald head. ‘Dickie.’
    â€˜Oh hello, Walter.’ The man called Dickie spoke without enthusiasm. He didn’t remove from his mouth the cigar at the end of which two inches of ash hung precariously.
    Charles recognized Dickie Peck, one of the biggest agents in the business. They had met when Charles had been working with Peck’s client, Christopher Milton, on the troubled pre-London tour of
Lumpkin!,
a musical loosely based on
She Stoops to Conquer
. Dickie Peck had either forgotten this previous meeting or chose not to recognize Charles.
    He also seemed anxious to get away from Walter Proud, but the television producer was equally keen to keep him in conversation. ‘What are you doing here, Dickie?’
    â€˜Came down to see Bill Peaky.’
    â€˜About . . .’
    â€˜About a project.’ The delivery was calculated to stop further inquiry.
    â€˜Ah. I’m down here to see him too.’
    â€˜Really? If you’ll excuse me . . .’
    But Walter wasn’t to be shaken off that easily. ‘Great act, isn’t he, Bill Peaky. Really going to be very big. I mean, it’s original. All that business with the guitar. Nobody else doing that. Except Billy Connolly. But he’s too blue for the family audience. I like to think that the reason for Peaky’s success is that he’s up to date, marrying the old music hall comedian bit with the world of pop music that the kids understand. You know, they really identify when they see someone come on-stage with an electric guitar. Any yet he doesn’t alienate the older audience either.’
    Dickie Peck was plainly uninterested in Walter Proud’s theories of comedy. ‘Sure. Well, I’m going round to –’
    At that point he was interrupted by the arrival of a thickset young man in a sharp blue suit and a heavy gold identity bracelet, who spoke with the brash confidence of an East End street-trader. ‘Hello. Mr. Peck, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜I’m Miffy Turtle, Bill Peaky’s personal manager. Actually, I also represent the group, Mixed Bathing, and Lennie Barber as well, but –’
    â€˜Nice little package deal you’ve sorted out for yourself with this show,’ observed Dickie Peck shrewdly.
    Miffy Turtle accepted the compliment from a fellow agent with a tense little smile. ‘I heard you were out front this afternoon, Mr. Peck, and thought I should make myself known. Gather you’d like to meet the boy.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    Well, if you come round to the dressing room after the show, Billy’d be just delighted. I’m sure we’d be able to find a bottle of something.’
    â€˜By the way, my name’s Walter Proud. We met. I’m the television producer who –’
    Dickie Peck answered Miffy as if Walter had not spoken. ‘I have to get back to town rather quickly. There’s a charity premiere tonight. I’d better have a word with Peaky now.’
    Miffy Turtle was taken aback. ‘Well, oh well, yes, I’m sure that’d be all right. Come on round. I’ll show you the way.’
    The two agents set off towards the pass-door by the stage.
    â€˜Oh, I think I’d better come along and see him now too. Come along, Paul.’ And Walter Proud, with his writer in tow, hurried along to join them, uninvited. ‘Actually,’ he continued when he caught up, ‘I was just off to the Gents, but I know there’s one backstage.’
    â€˜You’ll find the lock doesn’t work,’ said Miffy Turtle in a tone of voice which implied that he