by Bev Robitai
‘Excellent! Why aren’t you dancing on the table, Gerald?’
‘Because here’s the quote for roof repairs.’ He pushed it across. ‘To do the full job, it’s only just under our estimated profit.’
‘But it’s under, Gerald! We can do it! And if the show does better than expected, there’ll be enough to fix the seats and start that fighting fund we need. That’s great!’
He allowed himself a small smile.
‘Perhaps you’re right, Jessica. I do tend to look for problems. The rental that’s coming in today will cover the next mortgage payment, and there shouldn’t be anything else that needs expenditure until after the show. But I won’t dance on the table just yet, if that’s all right. Perhaps at the Final Night Party?’
He gathered up his papers and slipped them into his briefcase.
‘The rental! Glad you mentioned it, Gerald. I’d better finish my checking – they’re due to turn up in an hour or so. Catch you later.’
Jessica jumped up, rinsed out her mug in the kitchen sink, and climbed the two uneven steps to inspect the backstage toilets. One toilet roll holder needed tightening so she backtracked through the make-up room to fetch a screwdriver from the workshop.
It was another of her favourite places in the building. Old iron tools were hung on pegboards above the workbench, and faintly-scrawled pencil measurements left from shows in the previous century reminded present-day set builders that they belonged to a strong tradition. A few pin-ups, smutty jokes and limericks added to the ambiance.
Jessica selected a sturdy flathead screwdriver and fixed the dangling holder in minutes.
Back in the Green Room, the kitchen was tidy enough. She refilled the wall-mounted water heater and put out clean tea-towels. She went out through the left-hand stage door, across the side of the stage past the stage-manager’s corner, and through the heavy door into the corridor. The public didn’t get to this area so it was strictly functional. The concrete floor was spattered with paint from generations of sign-writing, and the solid wooden panels that made up the billboard across the front of the theatre were lined up waiting to be painted for the next show.
At the far end of the corridor Jessica stopped just before reaching the front door, and pushed open the swing door into the foyer. This time she took the elegant sweeping staircase up to the circle gallery where the seats were ornate moulded gilt affairs with red velvet bases and backs. The top edge of the circle rail was covered in the same red velvet, and more of it hung at the sides of a private box on each side of the auditorium. Jessica moved silently across the thick carpet to check the upstairs toilets.
Everything was in order so she crossed back, slipped out through the private box, and was on the landing leading to her office just as the front doorbell rang, heralding the advance party from the rental.
‘Hi guys, welcome to Whetford and the Regent Theatre.’
The three young men from The Shakespeare Company looked around appreciatively at their surroundings.
‘Wow, this is a real theatre, isn’t it? Much better than the boring old school assembly halls we usually perform in.’
Jessica warmed to them immediately and gave them the full tour of the place. They laughed when they got backstage and saw the maze of passages and stairs.
‘I guess this place has had a few additions over the years. Funny how the builders couldn’t agree on one level for everything. It’s a fantastic old place, isn’t it? You’re so lucky to have kept it running.’
The tallest performer ducked his head as he went up the steps towards the Rose Room. ‘What’s this room used for?’
‘Multi-purpose really – we use it for meetings and rehearsals, and as an extra dressing room when needed.’ Jessica pointed out the plaque on the door. ‘It’s called the Rose Room after an old lady who was a stalwart here for decades – she left a bequest to build it, the dear old thing. Her ghost probably watches over the place even now.’
‘You have ghosts?’ asked the shortest one. ‘Do they bother you during performances at all?’
‘No, no,’ said Jessica with a straight face. ‘Only the psychic people in the audience can see them, and they’re pretty used to that sort of thing. You guys won’t even know they’re there.’
His mouth dropped open.
The other two nudged him and jeered.
‘Ya sucker!’
‘Gotcha!’
Jessica completed the administration details, promised them that Gazza would be along shortly to get their lighting requirements, and left them to get organised.
‘Those Shakespeare guys were odd dudes,’ commented Gazza when he next saw her. ‘Littlest fella kept looking over his shoulder the whole time. Nervous about something.’
It was the first construction session for Appointment with Death, and the usual team had turned up at 10am on Saturday morning to help haul whatever was needed out of the storage cages under the stage.
Jessica grinned at Gazza. ‘I may have mentioned the theatre ghost,’ she said. ‘Was that wrong?’
‘Which one – the grey lady or the balcony suicide?’
‘I thought the grey lady was the one who committed suicide,’ said Howard. ‘Watch out, I’m just going to pull out this flat.’
Gazza and Jessica stepped aside to allow the framed section of wall to slide past them.
‘No,’ Gazza corrected Howard. ‘The grey lady died in seat L13 in the middle of a show. The balcony suicide jumped over and died in row J.’
‘Probably rows J, K and L, wasn’t it? If he got a good run at it from the circle.’ Jessica added.
‘Jessica! That’s not nice. Give us a hand with that window section, will you?’ said Howard. ‘And Gazza, can you take the other end?’
They added the piece to the pile of flats collected against the wall of the Green Room and dusted off their hands.
‘Fine, that’ll do us for now. I can’t do much about putting it together until that blasted art student turns up to explain his set design. I can’t figure out how he’s going to get the bits to work together. Shall we have a look for a counter while we’re at it?’
Howard led them into the dimly-lit area below stage, where old bits of construction from shows long ago came to die.
‘What about that?’ said Jessica, looking at a brown box end sticking out from under a roll of hessian. ‘Could be about the right size.’
They manoeuvred themselves closer, stepping over lengths of pipe and empty beer crates.
‘Can’t see from here,’ said Howard. ‘Grab the hessian, Gazza. See what’s underneath.’
Jessica moved to help him, then froze. ‘Whoa, hold it a second, Gaz. What’s that?’ Jessica pointed, her other hand up to her mouth. ‘Does that look like…a foot?’ Her voice ended in a squeak.
Gazza dropped the end of the roll quickly and stepped away.
‘Where?’
‘Just there, on the floor beside the box!’
He peered more closely at the spot she was pointing to.
‘Can’t see. What do you mean?’
She reached forward slowly, then pulled out a stuffed leg with a high-heeled shoe attached and brandished it under his nose.
‘This!’
Gazza reared back then saw what it was and growled.
‘Stop wasting time, Jessica! If you find a whole woman I might be interested, but just one leg doesn’t do it.’
‘Didn’t work out too well for Paul McCartney either, did it?’ chuckled Howard. ‘Come on, let’s get this box shifted so we can see what we’ve got.’
The box turned out to be too short for the counter they needed, but in the next storage bay they found one that could be dressed up to suit. They now had all the flats for the hotel scene. Stewart turned up to give them a hand and they hauled out a good variety of chairs and tables as well. They were setting them out on the stage to check the effect when a tall slender youth appeared, led by Clara-Jane.
‘I found him at the front door,’ she announced.
‘Can we keep him?’
The youth flicked back bushy black dreadlocks and looked at her warily.
‘I’m Nathan,’ he said. He looked hopefully towards Gazza and Howard. ‘Is one of you Howard Daniels? I’ve brought the set designs for Adam’s show.’
‘Hi Nathan, glad you could make it. I’m Howard, this is Gazza, that’s Jessica, young Stewart’s over there, and I see you’ve already made an impression on Clara-Jane. Come on out to the Green Room where it’s lighter and we’ll have a proper look at these designs of yours.’
With visible relief, Nathan escaped the threat of Clara-Jane’s ample bosom and followed Howard to the Green Room table where he spread out his papers for the others to study.
‘So, how is this wall supported, Nathan?’
Howard indicated the area on the skilfully-drawn hotel set sketch where an ornately carved series of arches led to an open terrace.
‘Er, I thought there’d be some struts or braces to hold it up. It should be secure enough, shouldn’t it? We can fasten the back arches to the side walls – I’m sure it won’t fall down.’
‘It’s not the falling down that worries us,’ said Gazza. ‘It’s how we shift it between Act One and Act Two. It’s hardly fair to the audience to keep them hanging about for a half-hour interval while we dismantle the entire Jerusalem Hilton, is it?’
‘Oh God, sorry. I didn’t think of that.’
Noticing Nathan’s distress, Stewart came closer to the table and reassured him quietly.
‘It’s a great design, Nathan; we just need to figure out how to make it work on stage. I’m sure between the experts here we can find a solution, can’t we?’ He glared at Howard and Gazza. ‘Not everyone knows the technical details of set design, guys. Give him a break.’
‘Yes, yes, fair enough. All right, what if we build the back wall as a drop and fly it out – would that work with your lighting bars, Gazza?’
‘It’s worth a go. The side walls can go on trucks and swing out when the rock flats go on for Act Two.’
By the end of the afternoon they had figured out ways to make Nathan’s drawings work, and Howard drew up a building schedule ready for the next day’s construction.
Chapter 3
10 weeks to Opening Night
First Rehearsal
Tamara had Phil Jessop cornered. The arm of the couch creaked against his back as she leaned towards him and said passionately, ‘You must come away with me! I want you to! It’s not too late.’ Her arms went round him and her chest heaved.
Phil held onto his script with one hand and pushed her away with the other.
‘Please, don’t talk like this.’ He looked entirely discomfited, and Jessica could see that he wasn’t having to act.
‘Stop there,’ said Adam. ‘Tamara, you’re putting a little too much heat into the exchange. Nadine and Lennox are a married couple. You’re not trying to physically seduce him, you’re just persuading him to leave with you.’
There was a small snort from Pippa on the other side of the room.
‘But wouldn’t I have a better chance of winning him away from her if I really, like, laid it on?’ asked Tamara innocently, while entwining her fingers into Phil’s hair.
Phil stood up abruptly and moved across towards the actor playing Jefferson Cope.
‘Like to swap places? Your character’s supposed to be in love with her – see how you get on.’
While the men exchanged seats, Pippa shot Tamara a look with all the blunt force of a lead pipe in the library.
Jessica tiptoed out of the Rose Room and left them to continue the rehearsal.
Construction was going well onstage. Howard and Gazza were bolting together the flats for the back wall, which was currently lying face down on the stage.
‘That girl’s going to cause trouble,’ Jessica told Howard. ‘She’s just thrown herself all over poor Phil in rehearsal – I thought Pippa was going to have a fit. Who do you think would win if they actually came to blows?’
‘Pippa, hands down. Tamara would just slap and scratch but Pippa can pack a decent punch. I’ve seen her in combat classes at the gym and you wouldn’t want to mess with her!’
‘That Tamara wants neutering,’ said Gazza. ‘Only way to deal with a sex kitten. Remember the last show she was in? She worked her way through nearly every guy in the place. It was “Here today, on Tamara” right up to Final Night party.’
Howard snorted in appreciation.
‘Let’s hope Adam can keep her under control,’ said Jessica. ‘At least she can’t seduce him.’
‘Want to bet?’ said Howard. ‘I reckon Adam swings both ways.’
‘Maybe, but if he does, I’m damn sure he’d pick someone with more class than that little tart!’
‘Ooh, put your claws away, girl! Do you fancy Adam yourself then?’
‘No! Of course not. How could I possibly fancy him when – ‘she clasped her hands to her chest, ‘my heart belongs to… Austin!’
Howard and Gazza threw down their spanners in disgust.
‘Jessica!’
‘Oh, don’t even say that. Get out of here. Go and make us a coffee, woman.’
Jessica chuckled as she walked past Gazza and pushed his cap down over his eyes. Out in the Green Room there were newspapers spread across the floor where Nick and Stewart were busy painting chairs for the hotel scene.
‘Got time for a coffee break? I’ll even make it for you if you ask me nicely.’
Nick leapt to his feet.
‘Oh, and just how nicely would you like me to ask you, Jessica?’ His voice was velvety and his brown eyes were full of mischief.
‘Down, boy! I’m only offering coffee.’
‘Oh all right then.’ He sighed. ‘Blonde with two legs, please.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I suppose that’s milk and two sugars, is it? What about you, Stewart?’
‘The s-same,’ he stammered, ‘but I can make my own. I mean, you don’t have to do it.’
‘It’s all right, Stewart. You’re pulling your weight – even more than the others since you’re onstage as well as doing construction. I’m perfectly happy to make you coffee now and again. Aren’t you needed for rehearsal today, then?’
‘No, Adam’s just working with principals for the next few sessions.’ He smiled. ‘I’m going to help Nathan paint the scenery when it’s built. He’s amazing. You should see these awesome sketches he did for his class project. They’re incredible.’
‘Good. I look forward to seeing what he’ll do with the set.’
She picked her way across the newspaper to the kitchen and lined up a row of scuffed glass mugs ready for coffee.
When she delivered Howard’s to him on stage, he was patting his tool-belt and looking round distractedly.
‘Have you seen where I put my pencil?’
‘Again?’ growled Gazza. ‘I’m going to tie a string round it and staple the other end to your arm one of these days. Here.’ He threw Howard a chunky red carpenter’s pencil and took the coffee Jessica handed him. ‘Thanks.’ He tipped his cap back and drank long and thirstily, then handed her the warm empty mug and got back to work.
Just a week later and she was doing coffee duty again, preparing for a quick production meeting before the Sunday rehearsal and construction session. She filled the cups and took them into the Rose Room where Clara-Jane and Gert were already seated on the sagging sofa. On the table in front of them were piles of clothing and several pages of lists.
‘Here you are, guys. Coffee to oil the wheels of industry.’
The rest of the production team turned up before their cups got cold, except for Nick who hadn’t yet put in an appearance.
Jessica called the meeting to order.
‘OK, progress reports. Clara-Jane, we’ll start with you and go round the room that way. How’s wardrobe looking?’
‘Pretty good for most of the stuff we need. I was just asking Gert if she has any white sheets in the props room so I can make up
some sort of robe for the hotel clerk. His outfit needs to be simpler than the dragoman’s full Arab gear.’
Gert nodded. ‘There are a couple of single sheets in the upstairs props cage and I think there’s some plain calico there as well, if you want to work with cream instead of white, dear?’
Clara-Jane frowned in thought, pushing her hair back. ‘What do you think? White would match the rest of the hotel décor, but cream would make him look less important.’
‘Perhaps you could check with Adam on that one,’ said Jessica. ‘Thanks, Clara-Jane. Gert, any problems with props so far?’
‘No dear, everything’s fine, thank you.’
The rest of the departments gave their reports; all were running smoothly and within budget, and Jessica was about to end the meeting when the Rose Room door burst open and Nick came in clutching a newspaper, looking grim.
‘Nick? What’s the matter?’
‘Jeez, mate, it’s only a production meeting, don’t look so worried.’
‘Are you all right, dear? Come and sit down.’
He thumped the paper down on the table.
‘That’s what’s the matter. I just grabbed this from today’s print-run at the Whetford Mail to check our ad. Take a look at what’s on the front page. It’ll be on the streets tomorrow morning.’
They all peered at the headline and half-page colour photo.
‘What’s that? “Council Welcomes City Shake-up.” What do they mean by that?’
‘What’s that picture, some fancy mall in the Big Smoke?’
‘Best read it out to us mate, then we’ll all know.’
Nick picked it up and looked at Jessica.
‘You’re going to hate this. Just don’t shoot the messenger, OK?’
He started to read the article.
The Whetford city council today approved in principal plans for an exciting new development which will expand the city’s retail area by twenty-five percent. The city block bounded by King Street, Albert Street, Willow Avenue and Diana Drive is targeted to become a three-floor shopping mall with restaurants, a cinema complex and a gym. Purchase of the properties involved is already well under way, and building will begin as soon as the public consultation process is completed. The proposed mall is expected to open in 18 months’ time. The developers, Bayldon Oliver, estimate that the mall will provide 800 new jobs during construction and a further 950 full and part-time positions upon completion, bringing a significant number of people into the central city and doubling current retail turnover.