Theban Mysteries

The telephone and the front doorbell rang simultaneously in the Amhearst apartment with a call to action which, Reed happily observed, reminded him of plays like You Can't Take It With You. "Those were good days in the theater," he said, rising from the couch where he and Kate were enjoying a cocktail. "Perhaps," Kate answered, putting down her glass, "but I can't help feeling that the Greeks wrote great plays because they got the characters on and off the stage without the aid of bells." "You get the door," Reed said. "I'll get the telephone." He walked down the passage to his study and lifted the receiver. "Hello," he said, wishing he had thought to bring his martini with him. "This is Miss Tyringham of the Theban," a woman's cultured voice greeted him on the phone. " May I please speak to Mrs. Reed Amhearst?" "This is Mr. Amhearst of Kaufman and Hart," Reed wanted ridiculously to answer. He could hear Kate at the door. "Oh, my God!" he heard her say in astonished tones which boded no good. "Well, come in for a time anyway, and let's talk about it." "Can you hold on for a moment?" Reed asked. "I'll see if she's available." "Thank you. I do apologize for disturbing you at this hour, but it is a matter of some importance. Mrs. Amhearst was Kate Fansler, was she not, when she was at the Theban?" Was, is, and ever more will be, Reed happily thought. "Yes," he answered. "Hold on a moment." He made his way back into the living room cautiously, as a cat might return to a place invaded by unknown, perhaps dangerous, beings. He found Kate mixing herself another martiniin itself an ominous sign, since she always claimed that when Reed mixed them they were nectar, and when she mixed them they were intoxicating hair oilwhile collapsed on the couch, its head in its hands, was a long-haired youth, revealing himself by his beard as male and by the fact that he rose, after a moment's hesitation, to his feet as having, in some dimly remembered era, been taught the manners of a lost world. On the run, Reed thought. Let us hope it is Kaufman and Hart, not Sophocles. "Reed," Kate said, "may I introduce John Megareus Fansler, known as Jack to his friends." "Of whom he has many, I'm sure," Reed said, holding out a hand. "That," Kate said, "is Philip Barry." "A nephew?" Reed asked. "Related to that other nephew, Leo? I don't believe we've met." "You haven't," Kate said. "Jack did not appear at that massive family reception given by the Fanslers for us newlyweds. Clever him." Jack smiled. "Leo told me it was pretty hairy," he said, "except for the food. Ted, who is only twelve, never notices anything but food. My brothers." "Will you have a drink?" Reed asked, bending over the martini pitcher. "Beer, perhaps? Sherry?" Jack shook his head. "I don't drink," he said. "I don't want anything." "I always forget that your generation doesn't drink," Reed said. "Nor," he added, rising from mixing his martini, "should my generation. I've forgotten the formidable lady on the phone, asking for Kate Fansler that was. She has probably decided you no longer are, and has gone away." But, when Kate picked up the receiver, Miss Tyringham was still there. Kate apologized. "It is I who should apologize for disturbing you at this hour," Miss Tyringham said. "I'm calling at the suggestion of Julia Stratemayer. Did Mr. Amhearst tell you this is Miss Tyringham, headmistress of the TCross, Amanda is the author of 'Theban Mysteries', published 2001 under ISBN 9780449007068 and ISBN 0449007065.