A Little Crushed by Viviane Brentanos Page A

ex-rugby-player shoulders. “Okay, what have I done?”
    “You tell me.” Tom grinned. “You’re the one who spent a debauched weekend in Knightsbridge. Come on, walk me to my office. I have a proposition for you. How are the boys, by the way?”
    “The ‘boys’ are as juvenile as ever. Only now they are dangerous. They have money. Paul, however, is on death row. The wedding is in a couple of months, and she is a dragon. You know the type—all braying teeth and Daddy’s credit cards. Just as well he went into accountancy because he’ll need his maths degree just to work out her Harvey Nichols bill. Still…he’s in lurve.”
    “Still so cynical. And Geoff?”
    “He’s okay. Apparently he’s ‘something in the city,’ which basically means he gets pissed every lunchtime and then goes back to the office and bonks his secretary.”
    “All right for some.” Tom sighed.
    “What’s all right for some?”
    Max grinned. Out of nowhere, Fiona came at them from behind and slipped her arm through her husband’s. She seemed to have the uncanny knack of appearing at the most inopportune moments.
    “Your wonderful husband was discussing shagging his secretary,” Max said, aiming for a straight face.
    “Really, Tom.” Fiona remained unperturbed. “Does Miss Jones know she is the object of your latent sexual fantasy? Do be gentle. I’d hate for her to have a heart attack on the job. See you at lunch, dear. That’s if you’re not too exhausted.” Blowing them a kiss, Fiona headed for her office.
    “I swear that woman is scary.” Tom grinned. “But I love her. Come on, Jim Hurst is waiting for us outside my office. I want to discuss the drama club with you.”
    On their way up to the top floor and Tom’s hallowed ground, Max listened whilst his chum begged, pleaded, and cajoled.
    “So? What do you think, Max?” Tom pressed him. “Will you do it? I know it’s a lot to take on, but I’ve got the school board on my back about this. They are very keen to promote the image of the school. Jim needs help. He’s not been too well and—ah, Jim, just in time.” Extracting a bunch of keys the likes of which Max had last seen in The Shankshaw Redemption , Tom opened the door to his room and ushered the two men into his inner sanctum. “Coffee?” He dumped his briefcase on his desk and went to fill the coffee jug.
    “I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” Mr. Hurst, French teacher extraordinaire and ex-Cambridge Footlights man, paced the room with huge strides, his booming voice reverberating inside Max’s skull. “That damn doctor, not to mention my wife. All over a little heart scare.”
    “Now Jim, you know it was more than that.” Tom wagged his finger. “If I let you go ahead on your own, Martha would have my guts for garters. Let Max help. He’s the perfect choice, otherwise we’ll have to cancel this year.”
    “Okay, okay.” Jim grunted. “I know when I’m beaten.”
    “Hey.” Max made a T with his hands. “Time out. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
    “Come on, Max. You’ll be great and what with your experience of amateur dramatics… Plus, from all the reports I’m getting, the kids love you.”
    “Spare the flattery.” Max frowned. “But isn’t Shakespeare overly ambitious?”
    “Nonsense.” Jim waved away his reservations. “Last year we put on A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The kids had such fun, but this year, I’d like to go for something more challenging.”
    “Are there many in the drama club?” Max felt his resolve weakening as Tom handed him a steaming mug of java. Tom had ‘smug’ written all over his face.
    “To be honest, we’re not a club as such. More an annual gathering of would-be thespians.” Jim Hurst’s moon face beamed with pride. “We always get a good turnout for the auditions, and there are some very talented pupils—Rebecca Harding being one.”
    Max snorted. “That doesn’t surprise me. That girl acts up every chance she can