Merely Players by J. M. Gregson Page B

favourite television star. Ladies and gentlemen, Adam Cassidy!’
    Adam gave it a full two seconds, whilst the clapping swelled in volume. Then he walked briskly on to the set and smiled with modest thanks at the studio audience. It might be some time since he had appeared on a stage, but he hadn’t forgotten how to milk applause. He sat down carefully between his host and Tucker, making sure that the adulation lasted for a few seconds more, plucking at the trouser creases of his superb light-grey suit, smiling first briefly at Tucker and then more warmly at his host.
    Clancy radiated good humour and welcome; this was a good star to hitch your wagon to. ‘We’ve all seen what Alec Dawson’s been up to. Haven’t we?’ He flung the question at his audience, who roared an enthusiastic affirmative, and then turned back to Adam. ‘How does it feel to be a national institution?’
    â€˜Oh, I don’t know about that. I might prove to be just a passing fancy!’ Adam smiled at the women in the audience, who loudly refuted any such heresy. ‘Theatrical institutions are people like Jean Simmons, who built up a body of work.’
    Clancy knew his cue. ‘You worked with our late lamented Jean, didn’t you?’
    â€˜I did indeed. In one of my first television assignments, back in 1990, Jean was Miss Havisham in Great Expectations . She was a great actress who was also tremendous fun. I learnt an enormous amount from her.’
    â€˜You played Herbert Pocket, if I remember right. And how was the great Jean to work with?’
    â€˜Oh, entirely approachable. A great pro. She was very kind to me when I was an inexperienced young actor. People thought of her as a grande dame of theatre and cinema, which she was. But as I say, she had a wicked sense of humour!’
    He launched into a well-rehearsed, mildly bawdy, anecdote about the great lady. He had learned early in his career that it was always safest to attach your stories to a dead thespian, who could no longer challenge the verity or the detail. He struck the right humorous, slightly daring, note. The audience gasped in surprise, then roared with delighted laughter, which culminated in a round of applause that Gerry Clancy dutifully encouraged. Laughter was infectious; if the studio audience was relaxed and amused, the television viewers would be happy in front of their sets with their afternoon cups of tea.
    They moved on to Alec Dawson, so that Adam could feed in the excellent viewing figures for the present series and the announcement that a new series was already commissioned for next year. Clancy spoke about the appeal of the series. Was it not strange that this type of multi-action adventure, usually favoured by men, should have such a high female quota among its audience? What was the reason for that?
    Adam said he’d never thought about that. He couldn’t think of any reason. Surely, his host said, the appeal must stem from the looks and personality of its star? The prolonged round of applause pleased both host and guest. Then Clancy leant forward a little on his chair, always an indication that something a little more serious was to be introduced.
    â€˜Hand on heart, Adam, how seriously should we take Alec Dawson and his adventures?’
    Adam leaned forward in turn. He spoke confidentially, as if imparting a confidence which should go no further. ‘Between you and me, Gerry, it shouldn’t be taken very seriously at all.’ A collective gasp, then delighted enthusiasm from the audience for his candour. It was as if they had been the first people who had been privy to this revelation: Adam Cassidy, the man who played the dashing Alec Dawson, did not take himself too seriously. Adam beamed at the rows of laughing people, as if the revelation had been a relief to him. Then he said without warning, ‘What we put together is what my old English teacher used to call interesting yarns. We make them