Last Roll of the Dice

LAST ROLL OF THE DICE

PART ONE

In the early hours of the morning the sound of typewriter could be heard in the corridor of a South London Care Home.

Two care assistants on their nightly rounds stopped outside the door from where the noise of the keys hitting the carriage emanated.

One looking at her watch said: What’s George thinking of? ‘

‘Well Elspeth next door’s hearing isn’t the best, so it won’t bother her. He was a bit grumpy today.’

’True, let's leave it then. Cup of tea?’

‘Why not?’

They were talking about a resident of ten years standing, George Murray, an ex Stock Exchange trader in his seventy fifth year.

On the way back to their respective posts one said to the other:

‘Joyce wanted to do something for George’s birthday.’

‘Do you think he’ll want any fuss, let’s face it, he’s not exactly Mister Happy is he?’

‘When Joyce walks into the room he perks up a bit.’

‘That’s about it though.’

‘True.’

George’s waking hours were unconventional. Old habits died hard. He was always awake before six in the morning checking Tokyo’s stock exchange’s Hang Seng index. The care home staff were always pulling his leg saying things like:

“Have you checked your dollar yen position this morning George?” Which usually provoked the response "You know I don’t do currencies. Strictly a stocks and shares man”.

His hobby for the previous eighteen months was the written word, tapped away on his old Olivetti typewriter.

A couple of years previously George had been in a mental slump; he'd been frustrated and felt he was vegetating, became a little depressed and started online roulette gambling.

A fellow female resident had ( as he admitted later) given him a much needed talking to and he’d stopped rolling the virtual dice and at her suggestion and started with trying to write his biography with insights into the London Stock Exchange entitled :

“My Life on the Floor” but had put it to one side after realising the title had an unintended double meaning.

His late in life divorce and a spell of ill health had left him financial and physically in a lesser situation. Or as he put it in his own professional life vernacular, he had rather “shorted his own position”. From there he’d moved on from that literary endeavour to short stories and won a couple of competitions. He then explored other written endeavours.

One day after yet another early Far East market watching start, he’d nodded off in the Resident’s lounge. He awoke to hear one of the care assistants say:

‘Post for you George.’

The letter rested on the arm of his chair, he made a move to grab it and to his annoyance only succeeded in knocking it onto the floor. One of the other residents who was passing picked it up and put it on his knees.

He reached down for his glasses and perched them on the bridge of his nose, and read the letter.

A minute later he started to tear up. Noticed by a Care Assistant

One of the care assistants noticed who said to her colleague:

‘Oh dear, looks like bad news, he was worried about his son, I wonder if its that. The assistant turned to her colleague:

‘Its about time for George’s meds, get them would you? Whilst I have a chat.’

‘You ok George?’

He smiled and nodded: ‘I’m going to be famous.’

‘That’s nice George. Is that in an Andy Warhol fifteen minutes kind of way?‘

He smiled and gave a shrug.

PART TWO

In the office of “The Pitch” a film industry script commissioning agency off Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles the CEO was addressing the weekly staff meeting.

‘I’ve secured the services of two high profile scriptwriters, get your three strongest scripts ready for next week. Anyone got anything recently that we don’t know about yet ?’

The latest hire at the agency, a lady called Julie from London raised her hand.

‘I may have something, an ex colleague in London sent me. Romance genre for TV, its low budget, could have strong branding. I’ve read the treatment thus far. I’ll ping it to you all now.’

‘They couldn’t use it and we can?’ one staffer said.

‘Kinda, have a look.’

A minute later the same staffer said:

‘This guy has a website with his pic. It looks like he’s got one foot in the grave and the other isn’t too far behind. You're sure about this?’

PART THREE

Back in the Care Home some two months later George was in the Residents lounge and looking very much smarter than usual. He wore a casual jacket with a bright red hanky peeking out of the breast pocket. He also sported a cravat. He was freshly shaven and if the others in the Residents Lounge weren’t mistaken, he was wearing aftershave.

‘George is looking very posh today’ one of two ladies sat together in the lounge commented to a Care Assistant putting down a pot of tea down at their table.

‘Yes I noticed that. You can almost see your face in the toe caps of his shoes. Must have spent ages polishing them I’d say.

‘Wonder why he’s gone to all that trouble?’

‘Who knows? Perhaps he’s got a visitor.’

Star of stage and screen Lucien Dreyfus and renowned Film Director Hal Luckman stood outside the Care Home waiting for the door to be answered.

‘We’ll all end up somewhere like here one day Hal.’

‘Thanks for coming Lucien, should give the old boy a bit of surprise.’

‘It’ll be fun, and its a role made for me, can’t wait to start work.

The two men could be seen from the reception area. The Receptionist said to her Manager:

‘That chap on the right, he looks the spitting image of what’s his name the actor, who was in, no can’t remember that either.’

‘Best go and let them in Debs.’

In the lounge George was in his usual spot by the bay window.

The Manager almost ran into the lounge and said rather excitedly:

‘George you have two visitors.’

‘Oh good, I was only expecting one.’

The two men were shown into the lounge and recognised George.

‘Hello George, I’m Hal and this is obviously Lucien.

They took seats and having exchanged pleasantries Hal said :

‘To business. Per our letter we’d like to take an option on your screenplay unless you’re going to pull a Rocky on us and want to star in it?’

‘Funny you should mention that I had in mind more of a Hitchcock-like presence.’

‘We have a deal. Congratulations.'