Aunty led Albert and Ernest out of a side door, and I took a long power shower. I would have liked to have shaved, but puzzlingly, there were no facilities in such a luxury complex. I searched through the extensive range of casual clothes in the lockers and selected an open-necked blue cotton shirt and a pair of tan slacks that fit me perfectly. I slipped into a pair of soft leather open sandals and splashed on an expensive cologne before ringing the bell.
Aunty came in at once.
"You look good." Peregrine, all freshened up, come through; people are dying to meet you."
"Sorry about the stubble, Aunty; no razor."
"Don't bother about that; the macho look suits you; come on, they're waiting."
I stepped through the door, and the sun blinded me.
She laughed.
"Sorry, Peregrine, bright in the sun. Here, take these."
She handed me a pair of designer sunglasses, and now I could see a cloudless blue sky and a bright yellow sun that was a little too perfect. Nevertheless, the heat felt good.
We were on the grounds of a white-bricked mansion set in semi-tropical gardens, and a vast paved patio housed a large blue swimming pool. —with a noisy party in full progress. We walked arm in arm down a flight of steps carved into the hillside, and I became conscious that the eyes of the crowd of people around the pool were on us.
The conversation stopped, and there was a brief burst of applause that quickly turned into a raucous standing ovation.
I came to a halt on the steps and looked behind to see if there was anybody else coming down, but there was nobody but us. Beaming with pleasure, Aunt Gladys placed a proprietorial arm around my shoulders.
"Give them a wave, Peregrine. You don't want to disappoint your public."
I dumbly obeyed, and a new wave of cheering began. Aunty held up her hand to calm them down as a uniformed waiter ran up the steps and handed her a microphone.
"Thank you, folks. It's great to see everybody here. You all know The Menschen Brothers, of course."
Albert and George took a bow.
"Some of you have already met him, but let me introduce you to the one and only Peregrine Tripp!"
A wild burst of cheering broke out.
"I want to say on Peregrine's behalf that he is pleased to be back, and he will get around and see as many people as he can today."
She paused and then yelled out, "Well, folks, we did it!
There was a massive round of applause, and Aunty allowed it to peter out before continuing.
"We brought the production in on time, and more importantly, maybe we…"
She looked into the crowd, searching for a face.
"Mel, where is he?"
"Mel?"
A thick-set older man reluctantly raised his hand, and Aunty yelled out.
"We brought it in on budget!"
Mel made a mock bow, then held up the arm of the small, bespectacled man beside him. It was Sol Bernstein, the production accountant, and everybody laughed.
"Sincerely, though. Thanks, Mel, for your belief and your backing; we couldn't have done it without you."
Another round of applause.
"O.K., back to Peregrine here. As you might know, he just got back a couple of hours ago and needs a little time to acclimatise—and a spot of lunch from that delicious-looking buffet down there! But in the meantime, give him a bit of space, and we will get around to everybody. I know Peregrine wants to thank you all personally. This has been a wonderful team effort. On with the party!"
Another cheer, and then people gradually broke up into pairs and small groups and resumed their conversations. A waiter brought up a couple of long drinks, and I gratefully took one.
Come on, Peregrine, let's mingle."
She guided me down into the throng.
A skinny, wild-eyed guy came up and shook my hand vigorously.
"Hi, Peregrine, I'm Dave Swift; everyone calls me Swifty, Special Effects Supervisor, 'The Cave,' and this is Jake Chambers, SFX Assistant."
A long-haired man in shorts grabbed my hand.
"Perry, great to meet you."
Aunty stepped in.
"OK, guys, talk later; Peregrine needs to eat."
"Sure, Gladys," said Swifty.
"Catch you later, Perry. It's been a real pleasure to meet you."
The pair started to move away, but Jake turned around and said, "Just a quickie, Perry, to settle a bet. Do you remember the cave and the shadow displays? The axe that we showed before the Minotaur?"
I nodded.
"Well, did you get it? Understand the link, I mean?"
"Yes, I think so. Wasn't the axe Labrys? Gave its name to the labyrinth where Theseus hunted down the Minotaur."
Jake whooped in delight and punched the air. He turned to Swifty.
"Told you so, twenty bucks, buddy!"
Swifty, grumbling, took out his wallet and handed over a twenty-dollar bill.
"How did he get that clue? What is he, a college kid? You told me his folks didn't have a dime!"
"He must have gone to evening classes. I just knew that by looking at him, he would get it. Limeys learn all that kind of stuff at school," said Jake, putting his arm around his boss.
"No hard feelings. Let me buy you a drink. Choose anything you like."
"Jake, the drinks here are free!"
"Oh yeah, still, the next one's on me!"
They both laughed and walked towards the bar.
Aunty said, "I'm impressed. Where did you learn that about the Minotaur?"
"A hobby of mine has always been a thing about ancient Greek and Roman myth. But never mind that now, 'The Cave?' What's going on here?"
Aunty never got a chance to answer. A gorgeous girl in tiny shorts and a California tan flung her arms around me. She seemed half-drunk.
"Perry," she squealed. "I've got my hands on you at last!"
I flushed up like a kid.
"Hi, not complaining, but do I know you? What's your name?"
"Trish Turner"
I looked at her blankly.
"Don't you recognise me, Perry?"
She turned around to put her face in profile.
"Maybe I should have worn my red dress."
I looked at her in amazement and just stared.
Finally, I manage to croak, "It can't be, but it is… The Red Witch! It's you! "But you look so different," I added lamely.
"Yes, all down to SFX make-up—Jeanie Simmons, the best make-up artist in the business. It was the best part I ever had, and you were fabulous, Perry. Just fabulous. Always kept in character and was a real professional. All those scary action scenes? I took your lead every time. We had real chemistry out there. It felt like the real thing, but you were able to resist my charms pretty easily. Do you want to know what you missed?"
She wrapped herself around me and kissed me with complete abandonment. It was as if she thought I was the last man on Earth.
Aunty pulled us apart. "Give us a break, Trish; the kid just landed. Get yourself a drink; we can talk later."
Trish disentangled herself reluctantly.
"O.K., Gladys, you party pooper, on my way. See you later, Perry," and with a wave, she wiggled away, lurching slightly.
We sat down at a table.
"This is all a dream, right?"
"Maybe Peregrine, that's what we are trying to find out. Look, Peregrine, I know this must all be a little confusing."
"You might say that… My head was spinning.
"Just go along with everything I say and follow my lead. This is a setup, but we know about it. I'll explain later."
"Don't faint," I told myself, but I was more likely to throw up. I swallowed hard, trying to get myself under control.
"Come on, Peregrine," she said, putting her hands on my shoulders. "Just stick with it. Trust me. Everything is going to be OK."
A huge man in a garish purple shirt, open to the waist with his hairy beer gut protruding, pushed his way through to the table and slapped Aunty on the back.
"Gladys, my girl, you did it. This is it. Going to be a rating blockbuster; make all the networks; go universal; I bet my life on it!"
"You too, Perry," he said, pumping my hand. "You are a star boy—a real star. You can name your price after this one."
"I'm Ed Masterson," he said, sitting down at the table and snapping his fingers high for a waiter.
A waiter instantly materialised beside him.
"Get these folks a drink. Highball for you, Gladys, right? What do you want, kid?"
I don't normally bother with alcohol, but I remembered what my dad used to drink.
"A pint of Guinness, please."
"Pinta Guinness, what the hell is that?"
"Black beer, Irish stout."
Masterson looked at the waiter quizzically and said, "You have that?"
"I'll see Mr. Masterson."
"Don't see; just get it."
"Yes, sir." The waiter headed towards the bar.
Masterson turned back to me.
"I'm the producer and sometimes the production designer since that bum left us in mid-shoot. I led the team on 'The Underlands, plus all the wardrobe locations, including the external shot, The Garden Scene from the Window.' Remember that one, Perry? When did you look out of the bedroom window off-script? Nearly caught us out there."
He cuffed me playfully.
"Had to pay our Greensman a fortune in overtime!"
"Greensman?"
"Yeah, sorry. The Greensman is a specialised set dresser dealing with the artistic arrangement or landscape design of plant material. Sometimes real, sometimes artificial, and usually a combination of both, depending on the scope of the work, he had plenty to do there. I put great emphasis on a completely authentic set, Perry, and never accept anything less than the real thing. The greensman should report to the art director, but in this case, I had him report directly to the production designer. Yours truly."
"You produced the garden scene? The one I saw from the bedroom window in the country house."
"Lock, stock, and barrel. Did you find it convincing?"
"Yes, I did," I said hurriedly, "but how did you get it together so fast?"
"Fast? No way, Perry. It took the best part of three days to lay out that garden. The country bus was a big problem; we had to have it specially imported. Then getting enough extras as passengers was another problem. I had to clean out Central Casting. The Civil War production on Lot Seven had taken everybody else. We could not find a spare body for love or money."
"Three days? But it was instant!"
Masterson laughed. "For you, maybe; not for us."
"But I dove over and pulled the curtain back inside a couple of seconds!"
Masterson smiled proudly. "Yeah, Wayne spotted your jump and hit the button real fast. Just as you were wiping away the condensation from the windowpane."
"The button?"
"Hard to explain, it's like a pause button; we froze you halfway through your jump and kept you there until we were ready for a take. Like I said, about three days."
"Then you pressed play, right?"
"Yeah, something like that. We couldn't let you continue until we were ready."
He leaned over confidentially and said, "No worries there, boy; we never infringed on your artistic rights. You were always a free agent. Total realism. That's the only way Mel works."
He winked at Aunty and turned back to his friends.
This was getting out of hand. A crazy quantum universe where nothing was what it seemed. There was nothing to believe in at all.