Free On Chasing Brad Through Purgatory by Stephen Benatar

(Me, I was never confrontational.) I said: “I’ll have to find a cashpoint.”
    â€œNo you won’t,” said Brad.
    Which was absolutely just as well. Having found a cashpoint I could have done little more than merely wink at it and ask it how it did.
    It was then he made his phone call.
    â€œA mobile ?” I said. “Really? Earlier on I must definitely have misunderstood something. Well, well.”
    â€œI only use it for emergencies,” he told me drily. “Never for quite unnecessary chats.”
    â€œYes of course. Naturally. Emergencies …” I said. “Yes.”
    We went to a small French restaurant in a backstreet on the other side of Edgware Road. Brad apologized for its being a little twee—the curtains, tablecloths and napkins were all in different shades of pink although the rest of the clientele were of both sexes and appeared to be quite straight—but he said the cooking was good and he ordered us a delicious meal. At least I have a vague impression of its being a delicious meal but I truly (and very regrettably) wasn’t paying it much attention. I had told him during our fifteen-minute walk, mostly unrained-on, that this time the spotlight would be trained exclusively on him.
    â€œBut I’m not sure I want to be under any spotlight.” This protest came soon after we’d been seated at a table beneath a reproduction of Édouard Manet’s Le Déjeuner Sur L’Herbe —so I’d been informed when I had briefly shown an interest.
    â€œWell now that is tough,” I sympathized. “I really am sorry.”
    â€œOn the other hand I’m always happy to have one fairly nearby. A spotlight.”
    â€œMeaning what? That you enjoy the theatre?”
    â€œYes!” He seemed pleased. “And I write for it as well.”
    â€œReally? You’re a playwright?”
    He nodded.
    â€œAnd you mean that you’ve had your plays produced? Here in London? In the West End?”
    â€œAnd on Broadway. And in thirty capitals or more around the world, including Peking and Tokyo. And not just the capitals. And on the road in America and Canada. And in lots of cities over here—including both Nottingham and Newcastle. Not to mention seaside theatre in the summer and amateur productions throughout the year.”
    â€œChrist! You’re well-known.”
    â€œAnd you must want to say bigheaded.”
    â€œI’m sorry I didn’t recognize your name.”
    â€œThat’s all right. You couldn’t place Johnson’s either.”
    â€œBut at least I saw Volpone when I was still at school.” I saw him smile a little but he said nothing. “I might just as easily have seen one of your plays. How many are there? Tell me the names of some.”
    â€œNot all?”
    â€œNo that isn’t fair: I’m the one with a reputation for keeping people on their toes! But naturally that’s what I meant. Are they exciting and tender and very serious?”
    â€œAnd do they explore weighty contemporary issues? Yes. About to the same degree I’d say as Charley’s Aunt .”
    He then quite leisurely ticked off a list of titles; he’d told me there were nine. I wanted to say Yes I’ve seen that—I’ve seen that—I’ve seen that; but no way was it possible; the theatre hadn’t played much part in my experience up till then. What I could say was, “ Where Two Roads Meet —wasn’t there a film called that?” Even as I did so this struck me as a bit tactless but I wanted to come up with something knowledgeable and indicative of interest and as relevant as I could manage.
    â€œYes,” he said, “that was mine.”
    â€œBut…?”
    â€œBut what?”
    â€œWasn’t it American … and big budget … and starring some really top names?” Yet annoyingly, try as I might, I couldn’t bring to mind which top