Jane Actually

bag and waited for inspiration to strike.
    “Make it, ‘To Tony,’” her inspiration said, “‘whose peerless skills behind the wheel have made me feel safe amid the hustle’ … no, make that ‘tumult of London traffic. Jane Austen.’ Oh, better remind him, Mary.”
    “Tony, don’t forget we’re to collect Miss Kramer,” Mary said as she handed him the signed newspaper.
    “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten, Miss Austen. Oh, and I already started reading your book.”
    “I am impressed. Did you stand in line for
Sanditon
?”
    “No, not that one,
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
. Cracking good story.”
    Mary smiled weakly at him in the rear-view mirror.
    “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” she said with a nod. He smiled back at her and then put his attention to getting underway.
    “Do you really think he understands who we are?” Jane asked.
    Mary flicked her eyes toward the rear-view mirror. Tony seemed intent on his driving so she softly asked, “What do you mean?”
    “That we are a dead novelist, or do you think he simply thinks we are a person whose picture is in the newspaper.”
    “I don’t know, Jane,” Mary answered, intrigued by Jane’s use of “we,” which she had never done before. “He seems like a smart enough young man but like so many of the young today gets his information more from the Internet than from newspapers.”
    “Ha! I have infected you. He is your age, Mary. You begin to complain as I would.”
    That took Mary aback.
My God she’s right. I’m losing myself in the part so much my opinions are becoming that of Jane. Soon I’ll start kvetching about baggy jeans and backward baseball caps.
    “Just immersing myself in the role. Oh, look at the time,” Mary said, a none too subtle remark about Jane’s late return that morning. Fortunately Mary had been spared fretting about Jane’s late return because she had slept right through her alarm. A knock at her door had finally awakened her.
    She’d jumped out of bed after a quick look at the bedside clock and ran to the door, wearing just her Yankees 1 T-shirt. She opened the door a crack and saw a young woman wearing the same jacket as the hotel staff.
    “Good morning, Miss Crawford. I believe I have a guest with me who needs to return to her room.”
    Mary, confused, looked for someone with the young woman, but the woman noticed Mary’s inquisitive eye.
    “It’s your roommate,” she said. “She needs to get back inside.”
    “Oh, thank you.”
    Mary opened the door wide enough to permit Jane to enter.
    “You’re very welcome,” the young lady said, betraying no amusement at the sight of the dishevelled American.
    Fortunately for Jane, Mary was so busy with her morning ablutions that she had little time to berate her employer for her late return. All Mary learned was that Jane had so enjoyed herself that she had lost track of time.
    As a consequence, they were fully twenty minutes behind schedule as Tony pulled up to the house where Melody was staying, the home of one of Tamara’s relatives who was working in London. Melody was already waiting on the street, her body posture revealing her irritation. Tony stopped the limo, got out, took her garment bag, helped her inside and put the bag in the boot.
    “You’re late,” she complained as she got in.
    “By a whole fifteen minutes,” Mary said.
    “It is my fault; I was chatting,” Jane said, to both Melody and Mary through their terminals. Mary was glad Jane said nothing about her walkabout.
    “Driver, take us to the Savoy,” Melody said imperiously once Tony was behind the wheel again. Tony, instantly comprehending who was in charge, acknowledged Melody’s command.
    “He already knows that, Melody,” Mary said.
    “I know; I just wanted to say it.”
    Her confession made them laugh and for a moment all the worry faded as the three of them simply enjoyed the moment.
    “Can you believe we’re going to the Savoy Hotel for a book launch? In my wildest dreams, I could never have thought this would happen,” Melody said.
    “Does this mean you lied to me when you promised me success?” Jane asked of her agent.
    Melody was about to reply but was saved by her ringing phone.
    “Hi Rebecca, what’s up? Uh huh. Yes, we’re on our way to the Savoy right now, running just a little late. Who? Oh, that’s great. Wow, OK, thanks.”
    Melody hung up and was silent, which was unusual enough to get their attention.
    “What was that?” Jane finally