Back to Fan FictionBy Elizabeth
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"MISS FINE!!"
It didn't seem to matter what Fran Fine did lately, she was in trouble for it. She certainly wasn't Maxwell's favourite person right now. In two days, she had broken a valuable vase, introduced Maggie to a rock-n-roll band leader, dented the Porsche, and mentioned Andrew Lloyd-Webber's name 13 times. But this was chicken feed compared to her latest faux-pas.
Fran, in the kitchen, made for the back stairs, but she'd barely risen from the chair before Maxwell had stormed through the kitchen door.
"MISS FINE! I have seen you date some of the lowest men. I have seen you flirt in some of the cheapest outfits..." Ouch! This was beginning to get personal "...I thought you'd go for anything in pants, but when my backer decides he wants to blow in your ear, you suddenly decide to play the high lady?"
"Mr Sheffieeeeld, the guy's a sleeze-"
"He's worth millions! You couldn't have humoured him for half an hour? Surely that's right up your alley?" Max fumed.
"Mr Sheffield, does it really matter?"
"Yes it does, because he left! He's not investing in my play because you offended him!!" By this time, the vein in Maxwell's forehead was ready to burst. "My plays pay your wages, Miss Fine, and without backers there are no plays! Perhaps I should take this out of your salary?" He paused to look at her. "Oh, just, get out of my sight!" With that, Maxwell turned and stormed back to his office, leaving Fran rather upset. His words had been harsh, cruel, and unfeeling. With the kitchen door still swinging from Maxwell's exit, she ascended the back stairs and spent the rest of the evening in her room alone.
* * * * *
It was the morning after, and rain had begun to fall steadily. Maggie's birthday was coming up, and Fran had picked out the perfect gift for her in the Paramas Mall. Fran's pay cheque had just come through, and she wanted to pick up the present while she still had some dosh in the bank. The rain, however, showed no sign of letting up.
Perhaps this wasn't the best time to be asking Maxwell if she could use the town car, but Fran really didn't want to let Maggie down. Fran had judiciously not shown up for breakfast, knowing that Maxwell was as angry as ever. "Ah, what the heck," she thought, "this is the shortest skirt I own, maybe it'll work."
She knocked on his office door. "Ah, ya gotta minute Mr Sheffield?" Maxwell grunted, but didn't even look up from his papers. "Damn," she thought, "how's this skirt gonna work if he doesn't look at it?"
"Mr Sheffield?" Another grunt. She tried being a little more forceful. "Mr Sheffield, are you listening to me?"
"Get on with it Miss Fine."
Still no joy with the skirt. She decided to press on anyway. "Mr Sheffield, I was wondering if I could use the town car..."
"WHAT?!?" His reaction was explosive. He stood up behind his desk, clenched fists on the desk. "Miss Fine, you cause me to loose my biggest backer in years, and then have the hide to come in here and ask to use the town car? USE THE BLOODY BUS!"
Just her luck. When he finally takes a look at her, she could have been naked and he wouldn't have noticed. "But Mr Sheffield it's rain-"
"I don't care if it's raining bloody bricks, GET OUT!"
Now it was her turn to be angry. She had been insulted and hurt. "You'll be sorry Maxwell Sheffield, I may not be here forever-"
"I don't care if I never see you again, GET OUT!"
"Be careful what you wish for, Mr Sheffield, because you just might get it!" Fran left, and quickly. He really was angry, but there was no excuse for him to make statements like that.
She stormed through the living room past Niles to the closest, grabbing her coat. "Isn't this just great?" she bellowed at Niles. "He's in a bad mood, so I have to take the bus! In this weather! And I only have 8 minutes to make the number 13 bus!" With that, she departed, slamming the door furiously behind her. Niles looked at his watch, "Seven minutes, actually."
Her umbrella did little to keep her dry, the wind swept the rain sideways under her umbrella and wet her ankles. "Great," she mumbled, "I hope I get pneumonia and die, then he'll be sorry!" The cold was creeping into her clothes, and just when she thought her day couldn't get any worse, the heel on her right shoe caught in a grate.
"Oh no," she moaned. She tried wrenching with her foot, but it merely slipped unceremoniously out of the shoe. "Damn, I'm gonna miss the stupid bus!" She bent down and grabbed a hold of the shoe with one hand (umbrella in the other) but the shoe was too wet and her hand slipped off. She unthinkingly put the umbrella down in order to grab the shoe with both, and no sooner had her fingers released the handle than the umbrella was swept away in the wind. "WAIT!" she bellowed after the umbrella, but it wasn't listening. It danced down the street, and she watched it go. "Oh, this is all his fault," she moaned.
Her right stockinged foot was now soaked, and the rest of her wasn't far behind. She gripped the shoe firmly with both hands, gave a huge wrench, and fell over backwards as something came loose. She sat up on her tuckus, which was now wetter than her stockinged foot, and looked at the shoe in her hand - it had given way from the heel, which was still stuck firmly in the grate.
* * * * *
Niles had polished the last of the living room surfaces, and stopped momentarily to admire himself in the table top. He imagined himself with a lawyer's wig, guffawed in disgust, and threw the polishing rag down. He wanted to speak with Mr Sheffield about his recent treatment of Miss Fine, and decided to do so while he was still feeling disgusted with his own servile position. He rose from his knees and proceeded towards the office.
As the living room door closed behind Niles, the front door opened, revealing a drowned rat going by the name of Miss Fine. She had to change, and quickly if she wanted to catch the next bus - not an easy task for her. She wouldn't make the 10:45 bus, but might make the 11am number 22 bus. She hobbled lop-sided up the stairs to her room, unnoticed.
Niles entered the office quietly. "Ahem.." he coughed. Maxwell didn't look up. "AHEM," coughed Niles. Maxwell, again without looking up, plucked a tissue from the box on his desk and held it out to Niles. "Sir!"
Maxwell glared at him over the top of his glasses. "Is there something you wanted Niles?"
"Yes sir," Niles replied, "I wanted to speak to you about Miss Fine. I couldn't help but overhear this morning's -"
"You mean you couldn't help your big fat ear being glued to the intercom with your fat little finger pressed against the button!"
"Sir!" hollered Niles, ignoring the taunt, "Sir, I really think you went too far this morning."
"Niles," Maxwell replied hotly, "those backers allow me to produce plays, those plays pay my salary, my salary pays your Christmas bonus, now I do not wish to discuss this any further so if you've nothing further to say then GET OUT!" He had bellowed the entire sentence in one breath and was almost red in the face.
Niles backed out the office knowing full well when to quit. He stood in the hallway, fuming at the stupidity of the man he worked for.
Upstairs, Fran had changed in record time, and now donned a heavy waterproof anorak. It wasn't quite her style, but then neither was drowned rat. She darted down the stairs and out the door, unobserved. The front door closed, Niles entered from the other side, picked up his polish and rag, and headed for the kitchen.
* * * * *
It was about an hour and half later when Niles returned to the living room and turned on the television to watch his favourite soap. Mr Sheffield hadn't emerged from the office all morning, so hopefully Niles would have an undisturbed sitting in front of the telly. He switched the TV on, and then hunted around for the remote. The TV flickered on, and graphics pictures of a wrecked bus appeared on the screen. It was a newsbreak, which Niles studiously ignored while searching for his remote.
"The rain, combined with a treacherous oil slick, caused the bus to lose control and slam into a sidewalk bus shelter, minutes after it left the Park Avenue pickup. No one in the bus escaped injury."
Niles looked under the pillow.
"Police have not been released details of the dead or injured, but say that fortunately the bus was not fully loaded."
Niles searched the coffee table.
"They say that if the 10am number 13 bus had been filled to capacity, then the death toll could have been considerably higher."
Niles froze. He looked at the pictures of the wreckage in horror. He sprinted into the office, grabbed Maxwell by the collar, and literally dragged him back to the living room television.
Max, now disheveled, was almost speechless with anger. But not quite. "WHAT THE HELL IS THE MEANING OF THIS??" he bellowed. "LOOK!" Niles bellowed back, pointing at the TV. Maxwell looked, and saw enough of the report to gather that a bus had crashed somewhere in the city. "You dragged me in here for that?" he asked, incredulous. Niles stared at him, "THAT WAS MISS FINE'S BUS!"
A searing pain hit Maxwell in the stomach. His jaw dropped, and he suddenly found he couldn't breath.
"Was anyone... ?" he stammered. "...injured?" Niles finished the sentence for him. "Yes. There were fatalities."
"Oh my God..." Maxwell fell into the couch, staring at the television set.
"...injured passengers and pedestrians were taken to Manhattan General Hospital," the reporter concluded.
Maxwell's senses suddenly returned to him. "Niles, quick, get the car around front. Call the school, have the children waiting for us - we'll pick them up on the way. They'd better be there."
"What about Miss Fine's parents??" questioned Niles.
"They're on a cruise holiday, we'll have to try and contact them later. Go man, go!"
Niles galvanized into action. He was mortified at the prospect of losing his friend, companion, and fellow Miss Babcock torturer, but now he only felt a sense of urgency. He ran off toward the kitchen to carry out Maxwell's orders.
Max stood in the living room and cried.
* * * * *
The car sped toward the general hospital. Niles drove, the children sat in the back with Maxwell, whose tears had been hidden from view the moment he was no longer alone. Maggie was crying openly, but apart from that a strange, morbid silence had descended upon the occupants of the car.
"I don't understand," sobbed Maggie, breaking the silence, "why Fran took the bus on a day like this!"
Maxwell shifted uneasily, glancing at Niles' deadpan face in the rear view mirror. "It... was my fault," he stuttered uneasily, with lowered head. "I was angry with her and wouldn't let her take the town car."
"WHAT??" the three children shouted almost simultaneously. "Well how was I to know this would happen??" he shouted back, suppressing his own vexed feelings of guilt. "Let's not assume that any thing has happened to her until we get to the hospital," he added hastily. " 'No one escaped uninjured'," quoted Niles. "Well let's not jump to bloody conclusions then!" bellowed Max.
The car pulled into the hospital carpark. Niles and the Sheffields ran to the emergency ward, not even stopping to lock the car. They reached the ward, panting, and Maxwell inquired desperately about the injured victims of the number 13 bus accident.
"Yeah, they were brought here," the nurse replied nonchalantly, as if she were talking about a delivery of whitegoods.
"Please, was there a Fran Fine among them?" he asked.
"Are you next of kin?" the nurse eyed him.
"No," Maxwell answered before he could stop himself.
"Then I can't tell you."
"For God's sake," Maxwell pleaded, "she's my nanny, she looks after my children, she's been with us for four years, you've got to tell us!"
The nursed eyed him up and down and, thinking him rather cute, capitulated. She picked a clipboard from behind the desk, and scanned the list of admissions for a Fran Fine. "There's no Fran Fine on this list," she said, "of course there's two what haven't been identified yet, they're still unconscious."
"Then let us see them," said Max.
"Now I don't think I can do that," the nurse replied stubbornly.
"Please," replied Maxwell, "if necessary I can identify her."
The nurse paused. "Well, all right. But just you, not them," she said, pointing at Niles and the children. "I don't really think I should be doing this you know." She beckoned Maxwell to follow and headed off down the corridor.
"Wait," called Maggie, "what if Fran's not here?" The nursed turned to look at them. "Then she ain't among the injured," she replied. "C'mon sonny," she motioned to Maxwell once more, and the full impact of the nurse's words slowly sunk in...
Niles waited with the children. Gracie had now started crying, and was clinging to Niles. It seemed like forever before they saw Maxwell walking back up the corridor, this time without the nurse. He stopped several feet short of them, a desolate, empty look on his face. A pregnant pause ensued.
"Sir-" Niles ventured.
"Niles, " Maxwell cut in, "take the children home."
"But Sir, what about you?"
"Do it, Niles!"
* * * * *
Maxwell stood there for several minutes after Niles had herded the children out. The searing pain had returned, and threatened to cut him in two. Suddenly he broke into a sprint, running from the emergency ward down the footpath until he couldn't possibly sprint any further. He panted uncontrollably, doubling over. He did not notice where he had run to, nor did he care. He wept openly, the tears returning tenfold.
* * * * *
Fran, on the other hand, was feeling slightly better. She had secured Maggie's present, and not being able to resist shopping, had spent some time and money around the mall. She had picked up a cute outfit that would perhaps cheer herself up, and distract Maxwell from all of the mistakes she had been making.
She unlocked the front door, and dumped her anorak in the closet to dry. She then wandered into the kitchen to find Niles. He wasn't there. She snuck a cautious peak into Maxwell's office, but Niles wasn't there either, nor was Maxwell for that matter. She was surprised to find, after an extensive survey of the house, that no one was home. She shrugged nonchalantly, perhaps Niles had driven Max somewhere, besides up the wall and around the bend. It was only 3 o'clock, and the children would be home from school shortly.
She strolled back into the kitchen, opened the fridge door, and gazed at the contents before making a studious selection...
* * * * *
Maxwell knew not how long he stood there on the footpath. It might have been hours, or perhaps only minutes. He blinked the tears from his eyes profusely, and after a moment he began walking. He had no destination in mind, he just walked. The tears had, for the moment, stopped, but his thoughts now crowded in.
"She's gone," he thought. He couldn't believe it. It was an unreal nightmare. "She's gone, and it's all my fault," he thought. "It's too late, it's too late," he moaned audibly. "I never did.. I never said... Ohh..."
* * * * *
The front door opened again, this time admitting Niles and the children. Maggie ran directly to her room, too upset to stay downstairs. Niles watched her go. "I suppose I should prepare something to eat," he said.
"I'm not hungry," replied Brighton. "Me neither," said Grace. She flopped on the couch, red-eyed.
"Well I could do with some tea," muttered Niles. If truth be told, he just wanted to be alone. He moved across the living room, and into the kitchen, and stopped dead in his tracks. There sat Miss Fine, spoon in one hand, Chocolate Fudge ice cream in the other.
"Oh hi ya Niles, where've you been?" said Miss Fine cheerily. His jaw dropped. "What?" whined Fran, "is my zipper undone or something? Why are you staring at me?"
"You're alive..." he stammered.
"Well I was the last time I checked," replied Fran sarcastically.
"SHE'S HERE!!" he bellowed to the rest of the household. Within a few moments, the kitchen door burst open, admitting Brighton, then Gracie.
"Fran!" they cried simultaneously. "FRAN!" they yelled, running to her and hugging her all at once. Maggie, hearing commotion, descended the back stairs. "Fran!" she yelped, running to them and joining the group hug that was occurring.
Fran was overwhelmed, if not a little confused. "What's going on here?" she asked.
"I don't understand Miss Fine," said Niles, "weren't you on the number 13 bus?" She stared at him. "No, I got my heel stuck in a grate and I missed it, why?"
"Oh thank God for Manhattan grates," he bellowed, joining in on the group hug once again.
"Niiiilllleees," whined Fran, slapping him. "Will you please tell me what's going on?"
"Miss Fine, the number 13 bus was involved in a serious accident this morning. We all thought you'd been killed."
Fran gasped. "How horrible... I'm so sorry, I had no idea!"
"That's all right Miss Fine," replied Niles, "it's not your fault. If anything it serves Mr Sheffield right - OH MY GOD..." he stammered.
"What?" asked Fran. "Mr Sheffield," replied Niles, "Mr Sheffield still thinks you're dead. We left him at the hospital. He refused to come home with us. Oh Miss Fine, he was terribly upset..."
"You mean you left him there? Alone, no transport, nothing?" Niles nodded. "Niles, we've got to find him!"
"No," Niles replied, "I'll find him. You'd better stay here in case he comes home. If he's not home soon, call the police." With that, Niles was out the door and gone.
* * * * *
Three hours had passed. Niles had returned to the hospital, and failing to find Maxwell there, had begun driving the streets. Fran had called the police when it turned dark, but still there was no sign of Maxwell. By 9 o'clock, Niles had returned home for some nourishment. He ate hungrily, but wearily on the pizza that Fran had ordered.
"Niles," she said, "you can't go out again, you're far too tired to be driving anymore. Besides, the city is so large you can't possibly find him, and the police are keeping an eye out now."
"I suppose you're right," replied Niles, "but what if something happens?"
"Nothing is going to happen," said Fran forcefully, convincing Niles more than herself. "You're tired, why don't you go to bed, you can't do anything more now. I'll wait up."
"All right," agreed Niles, "but only if you wake me immediately if you hear anything."
"Agreed," said Fran, "off you go."
Shortly thereafter, the children and Niles had miserably turned in, leaving Fran in the living room, alone. She paced the living room floor, back and forth, worried out of her mind. What if something had happened? Surely Maxwell wouldn't bring harm upon himself, but what if he ran into trouble at this time of night? She had already rung around the hospitals and police stations several times, but there was no report of him. It was so late, what could he be doing all this time? Surely he couldn't still be wandering the streets? She felt nauseous at the thought of what might have happened to him.
After pacing the rug in her dressing gown for some time, she dimmed the living room lights, and flopped on the couch, listened to the silence, and waited...
* * * * *
It was half past ten, and Fran had almost drifted off, when the front door opened. Maxwell entered, tired, dirty, and broken. He had wandered the city for most of the night until he'd finally found himself outside his own home. As he hung his coat in the closet beside the anorak left there earlier, the body on the couch stirred. Fran sat up. She blinked several times, and peered hard at the figure in the dark. Consciousness returned to her, and presently she recognized the shape of Mr Sheffield.
She stood up and came around the couch as Maxwell turned from the closet, catching sight of her. He stopped dead. For a brief moment, he wondered if he were looking upon a ghost, perhaps come to haunt him for his treatment Fran.
"Fran... ?" he whispered.
"Maxwell...?" She stood still, watching him.
There was another long pause, and then it all flowed out. "Mr Sheffield, Niles told me what happened... Mr Sheffield, I wasn't on that bus, I missed the Number Thirteen Bus!"
It took a few seconds for Max's tired brain to process this information, and finally he uttered, "Thank God!" With that he stepped toward her, taking her into an embrace. He pulled her tightly against him, as if to convince himself that she were real. Fran, almost as upset as he, buried herself in the embrace.
"Thank God, Thank God, thank God," he mumbled, "I thought you were dead, I thought I was too late to..." The tears flowed again, but for the last time.
Several moments of silence passed.
Fran drew back slightly and tried to thump Maxwell in the ribcage. "You put me through hell, do you know that Mister?" she hollered. "You could have been mugged," thump "you could have had an accident," thump "I thought you were lying in a gutter somewhere,"thump "or in a river..."
Maxwell merely pulled her against him, and as she struggled valiantly to thump him in the ribs one more time, he gently kissed her forehead. It surprised her, she stopped struggling, and looked up at his dirt- and tear-stained face. He kissed her proper, gently and softly, as one who is tired, as one who loves deeply, and as one who doesn't want to be thumped in the ribs anymore.
When she finally drew back from the embrace, she could see that Maxwell was very weary. Even in the dark, she could see his eyes were red and thin, and his face was drawn. "Come on," she said softly, "you're probably hungry, I'll fix you something to eat." She took his hand in both of hers, and led him to the kitchen.
Maxwell sat at the bookleaf table, while Fran beavered around the kitchen, chatting quietly.
"You know, I can hardly believe this has happened. I don't think I'll wake Niles or the children, they'll be sound asleep and better for it. Perhaps I should just leave them a note." She chattered on continuously, making tea and heating food. "...and you know, it's amazing sometimes what it takes to make us open up and say what we really mean. That is, of course, unless you're going to take all of this back too." She chuckled slightly with that last sentence, waiting for a reaction from Maxwell. None came. She turned and looked at him. He had slumped forward, and was sound asleep.
She smiled a gentle, caring smile, switched off the jug and the oven. She rustled up a blanket, and draped it around his shoulders as best she could. She kissed him on the cheek, switched out the lights, and went to bed, wondering what the next day would bring.
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