Joel looked up from his seat and smiled to himself as he took in the scene of genteel carnage in front of him. All around the stage there were little clumps of champagne flutes and empty champagne bottles. Here and there ashtrays appeared, not overflowing, but clearly well used. Off towards the back of the stage a table was still silently offering finger sandwiches and crab puffs. It had been a fantastic closing party.
Eight months before he had invested some of his inheritance in Karl’s play. Nothing prepared him for the lessons he learned along the way about how little he actually knew about the theatre. Seeing a lot of plays and organising university productions of Oedipus Rex and Cabaret was not even close to experience it turned out.
Against all the odds it had worked. There had been a good deal of luck along the way. Discovering Lottie for the female lead, getting unusually good notices from the Times. Now he was a theatre producer. There was no doubt; his first London production had closed in profit.
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