by Sue Welfare
‘Well, good luck to him,’ sighed Harry. ‘He can have a go if he’ll just let me out.’
‘I don’t think he’s going anywhere,’ said Helen nervously. ‘There’s another one pulled in right behind him.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Charlotte grumbled, sighing heavily. ‘We’re going to be late now …’
The cars were nose to tail. The car behind Harry honked as Harry tried to reverse out, and then honked his horn again because Harry couldn’t go forward either.
‘I’ll just have to drive in, get past these cars, and turn around. But don’t worry, we’ve still got plenty of time; it’ll be fine, there’s bound to be somewhere down on the quay.’
‘We can’t do that, we can’t park too far away,’ complained Charlotte. ‘It’s nearly half past now and it’s raining out there. My hair will be completely ruined if it gets wet. It’s taken me hours to get these curls right. And there is no way I’m going to be able to walk back from the quay in these shoes. Why can’t we just stop here?’
‘Because we can’t. I’m totally blocking the entrance.’
A stream of people were crossing the road in front of Harry, while beyond them a white Transit van had pulled up outside the back of the theatre. People started piling out of the back, carrying boxes and bags in through the stage doors, so that Harry couldn’t move forwards or backwards. Helen glanced back over her shoulder; they were well and truly stuck. The sounds of horns honking were slowly spreading further back down the queue.
‘Tell you what, why don’t I just jump out here and go in and let them know that we’ve arrived?’ said Charlotte, pushing the car door open as she spoke. ‘I’ll sign us in. Sort out where the dressing rooms are and everything.’
‘But what about all the stuff?’ protested Helen, looking around at the pile of things on the back seat.
‘Oh, you’ll be fine,’ said Charlotte casually, waving her protest away. ‘And anyway Harry will help you bring it in, won’t you, Harry? I mean it’s not like there’s that much, and I don’t want them to think we haven’t turned up or anything. I’ll see you in there in a minute, and don’t forget the costumes. Don’t be long, will you? I don’t want to be singing out there all on my own.’
Watching Charlotte picking her across the cobbles towards the theatre Helen wondered if that wasn’t exactly what Charlotte wanted. As she made her way up the steps towards the foyer Charlotte didn’t even look back.
‘Do you want to get out here too?’ asked Harry. ‘I’d be happy to bring the things in once I’ve found somewhere to park. Go on, out you get. I’ll be fine.’
‘You’ll never be able to carry all this lot on your own.’
He grinned. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll make two trips if I need to. Go on, just hop out here. I really don’t mind. And Charlotte is right, you don’t want to be late for your big night, do you?’
Helen hesitated long enough for the car behind to honk again.
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right, Harry?’ she asked.
Ahead of them the Transit van finally moved off.
Harry nodded. ‘Of course I will. Stop fussing. Oh, hang on – just let me just pull in to the side over there so I can get out of the way of this moron behind me and then you can get out, okay? Before Charlotte decides to go solo. Oh, and you’ll need these.’ He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the forms that he had helped them to fill in in his bedroom.
‘God, I’d forgotten all about them. You’re a total genius, Harry,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘I don’t think so.’ Behind them the car pipped again. ‘We better get going before the gorilla behind us gets really annoyed.’ He drove into the car park and pulled up in front of a row of parked cars, a little way past another knot of people unloading even more equipment.
‘It’s going to be a really big night by the look of it. Have you got everything you need?’ Harry said, as Helen pushed the seat forward and scrambled out into the car park.
She nodded. ‘I think so.’
It was raining harder now.
‘I’ll see you in a few minutes,’ Harry said, leaning across the seat to close the door. ‘I think there’s a brolly in the boot if you want one?’
‘No. I’ll be fine, thanks – I’ll run,’ Helen said.
‘Break a leg, isn’t that what they say?’ called Harry.
Helen laughed, pulling her coat up over her head so that it covered her hair. ‘In these shoes, on those cobbles there’s a really good chance you could be right. See you soon. Are you sure you don’t mind bringing all our stuff in?’
He smiled back at her. ‘No, now stop worrying and go or you’ll be late,’ he said.
‘You’re a star, Harry,’ she said. And before Helen really thought about what she was doing she leant back inside the car and kissed him.
It was only after she had slammed the car door shut that Helen thought about the kiss. It hadn’t felt awkward and Harry hadn’t blushed – in fact if anything he acted as if he deserved it. She smiled; maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
With the rain pelting down, Helen picked her way carefully across the shiny wet cobbles towards the theatre’s rear doors.
It was complete madness in the car park. Cars and vans were parked haphazardly across the bays, while a few others had pulled up in a tight semicircle outside a set of huge double doors that led into the theatre’s cavernous interior. There was a buzz of industry and excitement as people unloaded all manner of props and equipment, the drivers and helpers hurrying in and out of the pouring rain. A magician’s cabinet was being rolled in on a sack barrow, while another man pushed in a long rail full of sparkling costumes covered over with polythene, and then behind him came a man and a woman scuttling in from the car park, each carrying guitar cases and glittering cowboy hats.
Once she was inside out of the rain Helen joined the crush of people trying to make their way through to the dressing rooms. Standing behind a trestle table was a small man holding a clipboard; he was struggling to keep order and stop people pushing their way past him. He was failing miserably.
‘If I can just have your name. I need your name,’ he called after the man manhandling the costume rail along the corridor. ‘You can’t just wander in here like that,’ he bawled.’ I need to check you off my list, you know. I have a list – you can’t just go through there. Oh for God’s sake,’ he snapped as the man, apparently oblivious, just kept on walking, before pushing open the double doors at the end.
‘How am I supposed to know who’s here and who’s not?’ the little man shouted to no one in particular, and then he muttered,’ I need another bloody table and some help here,’ before turning his attention back to the queue. When he got as far as Helen he raised his eyebrows and smiled triumphantly.
‘Well, hello there,’ he said. ‘And how can we be of service today, then?’
Helen couldn’t decide whether he was being sarcastic or not. ‘I don’t know whether I should be here or round the front,’ she began.
The man looked her up and down. She suspected, from the look on his face, that he thought she was someone he could manage to control without too much trouble. ‘And you are who exactly?’ he said, pen poised.
‘Helen Heel.’
‘And you’re a performer, are you, Helen?’
Helen nodded. ‘Yes, I’m singing tonight.’
‘Right. Well, you’ve come to the right place, dear.’ He said, eyes moving down his list. ‘Only the nobs and bigwigs get to go in round the front. Soloist, are you?’
She shook her head.
‘In that case with whom are you singing?’
‘I’m with Charlotte Johnson. We’re the Wild Birds.’ Helen looked beyond him into the corridor. Now that his attention was firmly fixed on her, other people were slipping past unnoticed and making their way into the theatre.
‘She should be here somewhere. She came in a little while ago,’ Helen said. ‘She came in through the front doors.’
‘No, she shouldn’t have done that, I’ve just told you – it’s VIPs only that way,’ the man said with a sniff. ‘Me, I get stuck out the back here with the hoi polloi, while they get the bloody Mayor and all the celebs. How am I supposed to keep track of who’s here and who’s not? I warned them, I said, bunch of bloody amateurs, it’ll be chaos on the night, we need extra staff on the door to help sort it out I said. And look at it, tell me I’m not right? No idea how to behave, any of them – animals –’ He looked at her and sighed; Helen was quite obviously a disappointment, and then he smacked his lips before taking another long hard look at his list. ‘Wild Birds, you said, didn’t you?’
Helen nodded. ‘That’s right. We’re singers.’
‘So you said.’ He tapped the board with his finger. ‘Here we are. The Wild Birds. You’re late.’
‘Only by a few minutes, we couldn’t get parked and –’
‘It says on here that you were supposed to be on stage for a run-through at half past four.’
‘Half past four?’ Helen felt her stomach tighten. ‘It can’t say that. You’re joking,’ she said. ‘The man told me half past five.’
He pulled a face. ‘Do I look like the kind of man who’s got the time for jokes? Have you seen how many people we’ve got to try and get through here tonight? Now that is a bloody joke. The management want shooting. They should have asked me. I was in variety for years, me – on tour with the greats. I told them. I mean this is a complete farce.’
As he spoke Helen tried to get a look at what was written on his clipboard. ‘I’m sorry, but your list can’t be right,’ she said. ‘The man at the box office yesterday told me that we had to be here at half past five.’
‘Did he indeed?’ The little man pressed the board close up against his puny little chest. ‘And which man was that, then?’
‘Tully, Mr Tully,’ she said, feeling her pulse quicken. ‘He told me yesterday, he said we’d got to be here by half past five.’
‘Like he knows anything,’ said the man with a sneer.
‘He was the only one here when I got here. At lunch time. I gave him our music.’
The man snorted. ‘You gave him your music, did you? Well God only know where that’s ended up, then, it could be anywhere. The man is a complete nightmare. He’s a glorified caretaker.’
‘He seemed very nice. Very kind,’ Helen said, feeling totally lost. ‘He had a clipboard too. He said half past five and that I could leave the music with him, and that he’d look after it and make sure he passed it on to the right people.’
‘Well, you just better hope that he gave it to someone who knows what they’re doing,’ said the man. With that he ticked something on his board and waved her through. ‘Female changing, first floor, room three. You can’t miss it, up the stairs, just follow the sound of the bitching and smell of the hairspray. Go right along there. I’ve got a lot of people to see and you’re holding everybody up.’ With that the man’s attention turned to the next person in line.
Helen didn’t move, instead she stayed exactly where she was.
‘What?’ snapped the man.
‘What should we do?’ asked Helen.
‘What do you mean, what should we do?’ The man peered at her. ‘What should you do about what?’
‘About not being here at half past four?’ said Helen.
The man pulled a face. ‘There’s not a lot you can do really, is there? All the acts were allocated a time slot for a run-through and sound checks. It was tight as charity without people buggering about.’
‘And so you’re saying that we’ve missed it?’
‘Were you here at four thirty?’
Helen felt sick but tried very hard not to let it show. ‘No. But –’
‘But nothing, sweetheart,’ said the man, tapping his clipboard. ‘You were down for a four thirty run-through and you weren’t here. End of story. All right? Mister Tully should have given you a copy of the new schedule. There’s nothing I can do about it now. So if you’d just like to move along there please. Female dressing room, first floor, room three.’
She stared at him, refusing to budge. ‘Is there anyone I can talk to?’
‘No, now can you just move yourself? I’ve got a troupe of Eastern European acrobats unloading at the moment – all foreign – vich this and osky that, bloody nightmare making sure they’re who they say they are.’
Helen glanced around. She couldn’t spot anyone who looked as if they were anything to do with the theatre management. ‘So what will happen now, then?’ she asked.
‘I’ll count them I suppose; it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.’
Helen put her hands on her hips, her anxiety rapidly turning to anger.
‘I meant what will happen because we’ve missed the run-through. It wasn’t our fault.’
The man shrugged. ‘Look, sweetheart, the resident sound man they’ve got here is really good: he’s wasted in a place like this if you ask me. But he probably took a guess at what you need from what you put down on your application form and set it up accordingly; to be honest he’s not often that far out.’
The application form, thought Helen miserably, which was currently folded up in her handbag.
‘And there’s no one else I can talk to?’
The man shrugged. ‘I don’t know. God, maybe?’
At which point Helen caught sight of Charlotte further along the corridor. She was standing at the bottom of a flight of stairs, waving frantically. ‘Over here, Helen, here,’ Charlotte called.
‘Female changing –’ the man began.
‘I know, I heard you the first time,’ snapped Helen, pushing past him.
‘God, where on earth have you been? I was getting worried; where are the costumes?’ said Charlotte, all outrage and indignation as Helen hurried towards her. ‘I can’t believe you took so long. You knew I was waiting. Don’t tell me, Harry ended up having to park right down on the far end of the quay, didn’t he? I’m just glad I got out when I did. It’s complete madness here and it’s like a bloody cattle market upstairs. Have you been up there looking for me? I can’t believe this, how come there are so many people? It’s totally mad. And they’ve put everyone in together. I can’t even find anywhere to sit down. And the toilets are disgusting.’ Rant over, she looked Helen up and down. ‘So where are the costumes?’
‘Harry’s bringing them.’ Helen bit her lip, feeling a growing sense of panic. ‘He should be here in a minute.’
Charlotte stared at her. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re not still nervous about singing tonight, are you?’
There was no point lying or beating about the bush. ‘No, it’s not that. The man down there who signed me in said that we should have been here at half past four; they must have changed the times, Charlotte. We’ve missed our sound checks.’
Charlotte’s expression hardened up. ‘Don’t say that, Helen. You are kidding me, aren’t you?’ she snapped. ‘Tell me it’s a joke.’
Helen shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. He said that the man I saw yesterday didn’t give me the right schedule.’
‘Oh for God’s sake. How could you be so bloody stupid?’ spat Charlotte. ‘How could you get the time wrong?’
Helen wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. ‘I’m really sorry but it wasn’t my fault,’ she protested. ‘The man in the front office told me half past five. I wasn’t to know there was another schedule, was I?’
‘Are you serious? Of course it’s your fault. For God’s sake, Helen. You can’t do anything right, can you?’ Charlotte raged. ‘I mean, what does it take to get the bloody time right? What are we going to do now? I knew I should have got my dad to sort it all out. I just knew. He said you’d let me down. He did, you know. He said you’re a waste of space and that you’ll never amount to anything, that you’re just hanging on my coat-tails. Poor little Helen Heel. You’re going nowhere. You work in a toy shop for God’s sake. And you know what? He was right.’
Helen stared at her. ‘What?’ she gasped. It felt as if someone had punched her. ‘Your dad said that about me? When did he say it?’ She spluttered, ‘He’s always been nice to me. Is that what he really thinks?’ Not that Charlotte heard her or had finished with her stream of venom.
‘I can’t believe you, I really can’t. Trust you to spoil my big chance, Helen. You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Didn’t you?’ Charlotte continued furiously. ‘You’re just jealous, aren’t you? And you’ve always been jealous of me. Haven’t you?’ she shouted.
People were staring at them.
‘Of course not.’ Helen stammered. She’d always known that Charlotte had a short fuse but this was something different. She was totally stunned by the fury of Charlotte’s outburst.
‘I’m going to go and ring my dad; I’m just hoping he’ll be able to sort something out,’ Charlotte said, and stormed off back upstairs. ‘He wouldn’t have let this happen if he had been here,’ she shouted over her shoulder.
Which was the moment that Harry arrived.
‘Hello,’ he said, hurrying down the corridor towards Helen. He was soaked, his curly blonde hair slicked down over his face, his jacket dark with rain, but at least he was smiling. Helen had never been more pleased to see a friendly face in her life. He’d got their costumes on hangers, slung over one shoulder, a makeup box tucked under one arm and a holdall in the other hand.
‘There you are,’ he said with a grin. ‘Thank God I found you. Busy, isn’t it? I had one heck of a job getting past that little squirt on the reception desk. Who does he think he is?’ He paused. ‘What’s the matter? Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Helen spluttered and burst into tears. ‘No, I’m not.’
Harry looked aghast. ‘What’s the matter? Here, let me put these down. Don’t cry – what is it?’ he said, putting his arm around her.
Helen, feeling stupid, struggled to compose herself and tried to explain between sobs what had happened. ‘Charlotte is furious,’ she said finally. ‘But I didn’t do it on purpose, I’m not like that, you know that, Harry. It was a mistake. I only passed on what the man told me yesterday at the box office.’