by Bev Robitai
‘Whoa whoa whoa – hold it a second. Where’s this mall going to be? King Street and Albert Street? Has anyone asked us if we’re planning to move?’ Gazza was working up a good head of steam as his righteous indignation boiled over. ‘What, are we supposed to pop the theatre onto a nice big truck and wheel it away to someplace more convenient to the bloody developers? I mean, we’ve only been here for a hundred and thirty years, we don’t want to overstay our welcome.’
‘Take it easy, Gazza,’ said Howard. ‘Let’s just look at this clearly for a minute. Nobody can force us to sell the theatre, or to move it. The council only has a forty percent holding so they can’t dictate what we do.’
‘I knew it was a mistake letting them have that much,’ grumbled Gazza.
‘Well it was either that or lose the theatre altogether, wasn’t it? We didn’t have a lot of choice at the time. Anyway, we need to plan some sort of strategy to deal with this situation. How does it look to you, Nick?’
‘There’s quite a buzz about it at the paper and the radio station,’ Nick replied. ‘The general view seems to be that the city needs something like this to kick the economy into gear. I’m not sure how they’ll react if we try to prevent it. It’s going to look a bit self-serving, one little old theatre standing in the way of progress.’ He looked guiltily at Jessica. ‘Not that I think that. But I’m afraid we may have a hard time convincing the public that a theatre is more important than a mall.’
Jessica cleared her throat and all eyes turned towards her with concern. The room went quiet, awaiting her response. She took a deep breath.
‘You know, this isn’t really the place to be discussing it. Obviously we need to call a committee meeting and get our ideas sorted out, but until then, let’s focus on the job in hand, which is to get this show organised. That’s what this meeting is for. Nick, how are promotions coming along?’
He looked startled at the sudden change of direction. ‘Er, I think we’re fine. Let me just, um, have a look at the ad in today’s paper. It’s a small one to start with.’ He flicked through to the entertainment section and glanced rapidly up and down the columns. ‘Ah, there it is. It’s in quite a good position on the page. I used a fragment from a diary page for the opening night date, with “Appointment with Death” handwritten across it. Should get people talking.’
‘Good. When will the roadside signs go up?’
‘It depends on whether we pay a sign-writer or get a volunteer to do them. I’ve got the design worked out and I’ll see if Nathan will help us out, shall I?’
‘Yes, OK. Right – any more problems that need solving, anyone? Other than the possible loss of the oldest operating wooden theatre in this half of the world?’
The room was silent.
‘Meeting closed then.’
Jessica’s face was expressionless as she packed up her papers and left the room.
Nick started after her but Clara-Jane put a motherly hand on his arm.
‘Leave her for a bit, Nick. She’s upset but she’d hate anyone to know it. This place means the world to her, especially now that’s it’s her job as well. Give her some time to get herself together.’
‘You sure I can’t be the handsome male shoulder for her to cry on? It might be my big chance to finally break through her reserve.’ He smiled weakly. ‘She doesn’t give me much opportunity, and God knows I’ve tried hard enough.’
She looked at him more closely. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you? Nick, I don’t think I’ve ever known you to be serious about anything. We all thought you were just fooling around. OK, go on then, see if you can be the knight in shining armour – but don’t be surprised if she shoves you in the moat.’
Nick took the stairs to the office two at a time and knocked gently on the door.
‘Jessica? Can I see you for a minute?’
There was a moment’s pause.
‘Yeah, sure. Just a second…’ She opened the door. ‘What’s up, Nick?’
‘Are you OK? I thought you might be upset. I’m so sorry it had to be me that brought the bad news.’ He tried to get closer but she was framed in the doorway and made no move to let him past.
‘I’m fine, really, Nick. It’s not your fault what they put in the newspaper. Let’s just get on with the show, shall we? I don’t want to let the outside dramas get in the way.’ She slid deftly past him. ‘I’d better get down to rehearsal because Austin’s going to be introduced to the cast as stage manager and I want to make sure he doesn’t say anything inappropriate. Thanks for your concern, Nick. I’ll see you later.’
He watched as she walked steadily down the stairs and disappeared along the corridor.
As Jessica reached the stage, she found the cast assembled there listening to Adam’s instructions.
‘Look out for the white tape marks on the stage. They show you where the set will be, so don’t try to walk across them. I’ve set up the chairs and tables in their correct positions, and we’re going to begin blocking your moves. Write the notes on your scripts please – I don’t want to have to remind you where to stand next time.’
As she stood in the wings, she felt someone come up close behind her. A sour aroma of tobacco breath and old clothes floated over her shoulder.
‘Hello, Jessica,’ murmured Austin.
She took a step away from him. ‘Austin, hi. Checking out what you’ll be dealing with on stage?’
Stained teeth gleamed in the half-light.
‘Not a bad looking bunch from where I’m standing. That girl’s top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, does it?’
She followed his gaze to where Tamara was leaning on the hotel counter, offering Phil a clear view down her cleavage. Phil was holding his script like a shield.
A few minutes later, Adam caught sight of Austin and Jessica waiting in the wings and called Austin over to introduce him to the cast.
‘This is your stage manager, Austin Sudgeway. For the newcomers amongst you, this is how it works. From opening night onwards, Austin takes over authority from me and my job is finished. He is fully in charge of everything that happens on stage during each performance, so there’s no room for tricks or pranks – is that clear? We give our best performance every show, for every person in the audience, no matter how many or how few of them there are. Is there anything you’d like to put in here, Austin?’
‘As the actress said to the bishop, eh?’ He chuckled. ‘No, you carry on, Adam. I’ll just sit and enjoy the view for a while.’ He winked at the girls on stage and went down to the front row of the stalls.
Later on, when Jessica went back to the Green Room, she heard him telling jokes while the cast took a break. He held court in the centre of the room while everyone tried to ignore him.
‘Come on, you’ll like this one. This guy comes to bed and his wife complains of a headache as usual. Perfect, he says. I’ve just powdered my dick with aspirin. How would you prefer to take it?’
‘Mr Sudgeway!’ Simone’s deep voice rattled the windows as well as Austin. ‘I hardly think that telling off-colour jokes is a fitting example to set to the young people amongst us. Kindly keep your smutty little remarks to yourself in future.’
‘Oops, sorry folks. Didn’t mean to offend.’ He sidled up to Tamara and put his arm round her. ‘You didn’t mind, did you darling? You’re a broadminded young lass.’
She shrugged herself free with an exclamation of disgust, leaving him flushed and laughing. He winked at the rest of the cast. ‘She loves me, really.’
There was a light tap on Jessica’s shoulder.
‘Could I have a word?’ murmured Phil. ‘Somewhere quiet?’
She took him up to the Rose Room and closed the door.
‘What’s up?’
He twisted his wedding ring absentmindedly, staring at nothing in particular.
‘Phil? What did you want to talk to me about?’
‘That bloody Tamara,’ he burst out. ‘She’s driving me insane. She was bad enough at school a c
ouple of years ago. Those newly-minted gifts of puberty sent her right off the rails, and now they’re more like weapons of mass destruction. God knows they’ve just about destroyed my relationship with Pippa – you must have seen how she’s reacting.’
‘Yes, she does seem a bit twitchy.’
‘Twitchy!’ He laughed bitterly. ‘She’s way past twitchy. I’m pretty certain that castration is her foremost thought these days.’
‘Why is she reacting so strongly? You guys have been married a few years now. She must know you wouldn’t fall for a kid like Tamara.’
‘She’s been got at by the local lesbian mafia,’ he said darkly. ‘Her sister’s husband left home recently – just deserted Jill and the three kids and took most of the household assets with him. The women’s group came round and fitted her out with replacement furniture and appliances, looked after her very supportively and completely poisoned her mind against men. All men. And Pippa has been right in the thick of it.’
He slumped on the couch with his head in his hands. ‘I am so screwed.’
‘Ouch. I do see your problem. But don’t worry – leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do. I’m sure a quiet word or two in the right ears will sort all this out.’
She managed to sound more confident than she felt. Marital woes weren’t really her area of expertise, but perhaps Adam would help out with his experience and understanding of human nature.
‘Come on Phil, better get back on stage or Pippa will be accusing us of having an affair!’
He looked at her reproachfully, walking away like a condemned man.
Jessica sought out Adam after rehearsal. He was sitting outside the back door, face turned to the sun, sipping from a water bottle.
‘Can I bother you for a moment, Adam?’
He opened wide blue eyes.
‘Of course Jessica, what’s up?’
‘You’ve probably noticed the trouble Phil’s having with Tamara. He’s taking it seriously because Pippa’s getting so upset by it.’
‘That Tamara’s a predatory little minx, isn’t she? I was hoping she’d lose interest in him once we were working onstage, but she’s not showing any signs of it so far.’ He stretched like a cat and breathed deeply.
‘God, that sun’s wonderful.’ He sprang up and patted her on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Jessica. I’ll have a word with her; point out the need to be professional and have respect for other cast members. I won’t have my show disrupted by teenage hormones no matter what sort of package they come in.’
He bounded back inside the theatre, leaving Jessica saying ‘Thank you’ to a rapidly-closing door.
Chapter 4
9 weeks to Opening Night
The Rose Room was buzzing with murmured conversations. The entire committee had assembled to discuss their concerns over the proposed mall development.
Howard Daniels called the meeting to order.
‘Thanks for coming, it’s good to see such a full turnout and we’re going to need all our resources for this. I’d like to keep the meeting informal so we can move quickly, but Fenton will still take minutes, OK?’
Fenton looked up, tapping a pen against his pale chin; he nodded to Howard.
Howard held up a sheaf of papers. ‘Right, the facts that we have so far are that developers are proposing a mall that includes the land that the theatre stands on. The theatre owns 60% of the property with the council in control of the other 40%. No sale can be made without this society’s consent, but there is likely to be considerable pressure put on us to give that consent. I’ve been speaking to some high-ups at the council and they indicated that we would probably be offered land on one of the council parks to put up a small community theatre which the council would fund. I’d like to get your feelings on that so take a few minutes to discuss it amongst yourselves; then I’ll take comments from the floor.
Jessica felt her stomach churn and blood rise to her face as she contemplated the possibilities. Either they’d have to mount a stiff campaign to save the theatre, which would divert a lot of time and energy away from the show, or else they’d lose the whole wonderful old building and end up in some sort of glorified shed in the park. Neither option thrilled her, but by God if there was going to be a battle she’d damn well be at the forefront.
As Fenton scribbled furiously, Howard took care to ask every member for their opinion. Several of the longer-term committee members were in favour of taking the council’s option in the park.
‘That would free up the society to do what we’re supposed to do – put on shows. This is a drama society after all, not a building maintenance department.’
‘This place has been a millstone round our necks for years and it isn’t getting any younger.’
‘Yes, imagine having a theatre provided, fully-funded, and all we have to worry about is choosing what to perform. Isn’t that what we’re all about?’
Several heads were nodding.
‘After all, the Historic Places lot won’t be able to do much to protect the Regent. Only about 20% of the place is original – the rest has just been tacked on over the years and has no architectural value.’
Jessica was biting her tongue, trying to refrain from bursting out with ill-considered retorts. A millstone? No architectural value? How could they even contemplate such idiocy?
She waited her turn, tapping a foot against her chair and seething with impatience.
Nick spoke up next.
‘Let’s not give up too fast – I think this is a fight we can win. If we get some high-profile people to help us out, we can swing public opinion against the mall and in our favour instead.’
The room waited expectantly.
‘Let’s hear your suggestions, Nick,’ said Howard.
‘OK, this is a bit off the top of my head, but how about Greenpeace? They’re all about reducing consumerism. Shopping malls are a symbol of needless consumption – I reckon Greenpeace would throw some support towards blocking the mall and keeping our building.’
He ignored the sceptical looks and continued. ‘Another idea, we could contact people who have performed here, big names, popular artists, and get them to show their support. Maybe a benefit concert? All the local groups that use the theatre would be happy to help, I’m sure. The dance schools, the Musical Society, they could all do a piece in a show for us to raise funds.’
More heads were nodding now. Nick looked at Jessica.
‘I’ve even thought of how we can tie in our current show and score publicity for both causes. How about headlines saying “The Regent Theatre has an Appointment with Death!”, or something like that?’
‘Brilliant!’ said Clara-Jane. We could do t-shirts with “New Mall - Over my Dead Body” on the front and knives sticking out of the back, with a bit of blood trail. If that doesn’t get us in the papers I don’t know what would!’
By this time the room was alive with eager suggestions.
After a few minutes Howard called for quiet.
‘Hold it for now, people. Let’s get everyone’s comments before we take off on a tangent, shall we? Gazza, what’s your take on the situation?’
Gazza tipped back his battered leather cap.
‘Well, for starters we wouldn’t be able to stage the sort of productions we can do here if we’re stuck in some little community theatre in the park. How are you going to get a hundred and fifty kids on the stage for a ballet-school show or a pantomime if we don’t have a full-sized stage with an apron? Plus we’d lose a lot of the major touring shows that need the size and the seating capacity of the Regent. They just wouldn’t bother to come to Whetford at all and then everyone would miss out.’
Murmurs of agreement ran round the room.
Gerald raised a hand. ‘If I may, Howard? Financially it would be very much simpler to hand over all responsibility to the council – it would certainly make my job easier. But we’d lose our freedom. The council might well feel entitled to have a say in what shows we put on. It raises the
question of possible censorship of contentious material. As guardians of part of this community’s art and culture I think we need to remain independent.’
There were nods and ‘hear hear’s from the more scholarly members.
Austin slapped his leg and chuckled. ‘Look,’ he said, grinning around the room. ‘If I wanted my entertainment in a shed in the park, I’d go down to the local scout troop!’ He cackled, unaware of the expressions of distaste around him. ‘This grand old lady’s a bit of history, just like me. A bit tatty in places but good for a few more years of fun and games.’
‘Thank you, Austin,’ said Howard, interrupting smoothly. He took comments from the rest of the members and finally came to Jessica. ‘Jessica, you’ve probably got the most to lose here. What are your feelings?’
She smiled. ‘Mostly relief, actually. For a moment there I was really afraid that we were going to give up and sell out. Thanks for offering some real options, Nick.’ He bowed to her, grinning.
‘I think we do have a chance of saving this place,’ Jessica continued. ‘And I think it’s a cause we have to fight for. If we give up because it’s too hard, a piece of history will be lost forever. You just can’t create a hundred and thirty year-old theatre – it’s built by the passage of time and generations of people. And this one is our responsibility. We can’t give up on this wonderful old girl. She’s been the home of so many magic performances. The whole place is so filled with the vibrations of long-ago shows that the atmosphere is practically visible, and it’s utterly irreplaceable. When you walk into a new theatre, sure, the seats are comfortable, and the facilities are good – but there’s no soul. Yes, it’ll be a tough sell to the public, but if we do it right we can inspire them with the same enthusiasm that we have, and they’ll see the Regent’s value.’