A Mighty Need

Saturday and Sunday had come and gone way too quickly for Audrey, even if she did have eleven days still left ahead of her. She chalked it up to having filled the weekend with so many things to do that it made time seem to fly. She’d taken a leisurely stroll along the Victoria Embankment on Saturday, and then over the Waterloo bridge toward King’s College London, so she knew how to get there; like a trial run because she was planning on walking there instead of taking a cab since it wasn’t too far away and the weather was supposed to be decent. Saturday had been partly cloudy so she got her “walking around” done then as Sunday proved to be rainy, which made Audrey wonder if it was going to carry over into Monday. After walking to King’s College London, she made her way to the London Eye, sharing a capsule with about fifteen other people who had no idea who she was. For all they knew she was either just another tourist or a fellow Brit taking in the sights the city had to offer from so high up. Afterward, she pressed on toward Westminster Bridge, taking photographs along the way, stopping alongside other tourists, gathered at the base of Elizabeth Tower, or rather Big Ben as most simply referred to the entire structure, despite Big Ben technically being just the bell inside.

Eventually, she found herself at Trafalgar Square, heading into the National Gallery, where she spent most of her time admiring the works of Gustav Klimt before leaving altogether because her stomach was growling. She hailed a taxi and made her way back to the Savoy where she went upstairs to change before heading back down to grab dinner at Kaspar’s Seafood Bar and Grill.

Seated at a small table by herself with a lovely view of the Thames, Audrey watched as the light from the sun that had just set still sparkled on the water. While nursing a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, after having placed her starter and main course order, she noticed a few familiar faces starting to filter in to the restaurant for something to eat. One such familiar face was Stephen Fry having dinner with another gentleman whose face Audrey couldn’t see. The other familiar faces Audrey noticed sitting a bit closer to her was actress Emily Blunt and her husband, John Krasinski; an American like Audrey. She recalled hearing about how the couple had just recently announced they were expecting their first child and Audrey felt a moment of happiness for them and a pang of jealousy for herself.

She had achieved everything she could have ever wanted, professionally and financially, but the one thing she longed for, was exactly what Emily and John had; love and a family of their own.

As she was finishing her starter of pan-roasted diver scallops, her main course arrived: seafood linguine and a side order of sautéed spinach. It was all incredibly delicious, but enjoying such a wonderful meal always felt awkward to do alone. She sometimes wondered if people saw her eating by herself and looked on her with disdain or pity. Did they have theories about why? Did they wonder if she had been stood up by someone or was just a lonely soul? She avoided looking around while she ate, keeping her eyes down as if she was a prisoner in the mess hall making sure no one took her food; something she had done most of her life anyway, regardless of where she was. It wasn’t done on purpose, it was just something she did; like a subconscious habit.

After dinner, she sat back a little and enjoyed a second glass of Cabernet Sauvignon when the waiter came over and asked if she would be interested in dessert. In the short moments it took her to consider either yes or no (and if yes, what), she noticed, out the corner of her eye, Stephen Fry standing up, parting from the man he had been dining with and making a bee line for her.

She turned her attention from the waiter in the span of a few seconds and found herself staring upward at a smiling Stephen Fry.

“Hello, darling, I’m so terribly sorry to interrupt,” he said; so terribly British, she thought with a smirk, “but I must say I just noticed you sitting here and found myself rather bewitched with the idea to come say how much it was that I have enjoyed your books. I just finished your recent one and found it wonderfully insightful and hilarious.” The waiter seemed to take a step back and looked down at Audrey, knowing full well who Stephen Fry was but having not the slightest clue that Audrey was anyone supposedly as famous or moderately well-known. “Would I be so bold as to ask if I might join you here for a spell?”

At a loss for words at first, Audrey nodded before finding her voice and smiling. “Of course, it’d be an honor.” Inwardly, she frowned at herself. An honor? How painfully fangirlish she made herself sound. He was just a man, albeit, famous. It’s not like he single-handedly cured some sort of incurable disease. However, this was still Stephen Fry. He was pretty awesome.

“Would you like me to come back later, ma’am?” The waiter asked with uncertainty hanging in his voice like a lead balloon.

“Oh, my apologies,” Stephen muttered, looking between Audrey and the waiter and he sat down in the seat opposite of her. “Don’t let me stop you from enjoying dessert.”

“I don’t want to eat in front of you, it’d be rude, wouldn’t it?” she scrunched her nose slightly.

“Nonsense,” he waved at her. “I didn’t have any dessert after my own meal; I might as well have some with you.”

Audrey chuckled slightly under her breath. “Alrighty then. I guess I’ll have the apple crème brûlée.”

“Make that two, but put the desserts on my tab, if you’d be so kind, old chap.”

He said old chap, she laughed in her head. “You don’t have to do that,” she insisted.

“Oh, but I do. I’ve inserted myself into your tab, in a matter of speaking. It’s only right I pay part of it. If you’re lucky, I might be inclined to cover all of it.”

“Please don’t,” Audrey commented as the waiter walked away. “I’ll feel indebted to you.”

“In that case, I think I shall pay your entire tab. In exchange you can return to London in May and be a guest panelist on QI when we start filming series L.”

“How about I come be a guest panelist either way? We can do that whole ‘have your people call my people’ thing, if you want.” Audrey smirked, as did Stephen.

“So, do tell me what brings such a lovely American writer such as you to the Big Smoke?”



The following day, Sunday, had been spent primarily in bed. Jet lag had set in finally and even after the alarm clock on her cell phone had gone off, Audrey couldn’t bring herself to get up until well past one in the afternoon. She took her time getting ready. There was no rush. She drew a warm bubble bath and soaked for a good half hour before bothering to drain the tub and hop into the shower. Wearing only her underwear and complementary terrycloth robe provided by the hotel, she had room service brought up to her room so she could eat some lunch.

She ate at the table in her suite’s sitting room, staring out the window at the rainy day before her and decided then and there she would just stay in the rest of the day. She had plenty of time to do other things in the city and she had that lecture thingamajig the next day at King’s College London to prepare for. Today was Sunday, a day of rest and she would do just that.

Audrey spent the rest of it, still in her underwear and robe, never bothering to change into any clothes until dinner time when she once again ordered room service. And only then she was wearing her pajamas. She watched TV, wrote a little on her laptop, played a few Facebook games and talked to her parents. She told them about what how she’d seen Emily Blunt and John Krasinski at dinner the night before and Stephen Fry had joined her for dessert; how the latter had then joined her at the bar for drinks and they talked and talked about her books, his career, the world today and even at one point about Donald Duck. Her mother, not knowing who Stephen was, pestered her like any mother would, asking if he was cute.

Audrey had to role her eyes and inform her mom that, “Mom, he’s nearly double my age and gay.”

She had exchanged numbers with Stephen, to “keep in touch”. To prove he meant it, he sent her a pleasant text the next day, asking if she was having a pleasant Sunday. She responded she was and again thanked him for paying her tab; something she didn’t realize he had done because at one point she had excused herself to use the ladies room.

A good night’s sleep behind her, Audrey awoke on Monday morning with a start. Not to her alarm clock, but to the sun beating down on her face through the window because she had left the curtains open. Rolling over, her back to the window, she pulled herself up and looked at the bedside clock. She had woken up five minutes before her alarm was set to go off anyways.

Figures.

After getting ready for the day, she received a call from the front desk to her room phone, stating her hired car to King’s College London had arrived. For a moment, Audrey had forgotten she had hired a driver to take her there. After all the walking she had done on Saturday and how rainy Sunday had been, she realized she didn’t want to show up to the college as a sweaty hot mess. On the drive to the college, her nerves were beginning to fray as she second-guessed the decision to be a part of the lecture series about female humorists in modern literature. She had never been a fan of talking in front of large crowds when the focus was solely on her. It was different when she was seated amongst other people as part of a panel, like a sort of Q and A session or better yet, one on one. All eyes would be on her; staring, listening, scrutinizing, criticizing. Her heart was beating a mile a minute as she stepped into the school and was lead to the lecture hall only to be surprised to find it wasn’t such a large crowd.

In her head, Audrey had imagined a room as large as a lecture hall from her own days at Swarthmore or something like an auditorium. The room she was set up in was on the smaller scale, a more intimate setting which was a relief. It made her feel less like a performer on a stage. There was no lectern or podium from which she had to stand behind, but there was a table she could sit at. The room was empty, save for the heads of the department who were in charge of the lecture series. They were a pleasant lot, thanking her for taking part and making the trek “across the pond” to speak to the students. It suddenly made her feel older than she was, but in a good way. She tried not to look at the fresh-faced eighteen to early twenty-something-year-olds as her peers. Audrey was, at best an entire decade older than most of them. They were basically a generation a part from her. She’d come of age in late nineties when the rest of them were still either toddling around or starting their formal education.

They’re just kids, she told herself, before the students began to filter in for the lecture. They weren’t going to be attending because it was mandatory. Any student that came wanted to be there. The lectures were optional.

Audrey had been standing behind the table with a clipboard holding a sheet of paper with talking points on it when it seemed that every student that was going to be present had already found a seat and was now waiting patiently for the lecture to begin. The head of the series said a few words and then introduced her, to which she received initial applause. She bowed her head in small thanks and took the microphone from the staff member, choosing to move around to the front of the table and sit on the edge of it for the lecture.

Here goes nothing.



The lecture lasted about an hour and a half; and hour for the lecture itself, and a little over thirty minutes for Q and A discussion. Afterward, students were allowed to approach her for autographs or pictures or even other questions. She wasn’t being paid for the lecture, so it wasn’t like Audrey had to wait around for someone to write her a check. She’d chosen to do the lecture basically out of the goodness of her heart and was free to go whenever she wanted. It was about three o’clock when she returned to the Savoy and found there was a message waiting for her at the front desk.

It was from Never Mind The Buzzcocks’ guest booker, asking her to call back as soon as possible. It was in regard to her upcoming appearance on the show.

As soon as she was back upstairs in her hotel room, Audrey called the number left for her and was put through to the booker, Jess Bendien. Poor Jess, too. She sounded quite stressed out on the phone. She began to ramble about how she knew Audrey was booked to appear on the following week’s episode, on Phill Jupitus’ team but was wondering, and was incredibly apologetic for the short notice, if there would be any way that Audrey would be interested in appearing in the episode being filmed the next day. Apparently one of the guest panelists who had been booked for the next day had to withdraw from participating in the show because they were suffering from a bronchial infection. Since Audrey was already in town for the following week’s show, the producers pressed poor Jess to see if Audrey would want to “double duty,” so to speak.

Audrey’s answer? “Sure, I didn’t have anything major planned for tomorrow anyway.”