by Mandy Baggot
Still taken aback by the news of Dave’s departure the two women, rather meekly, did as they had been instructed and trooped back into the building. Samantha picked up the signs, folded them in half as best she could and stuffed them into the bin outside the hall.
‘Morning Gobby, cod fillets on the menu today, back door about one,’ Samantha spoke as the cat dared to stick his nose out from his hiding place.
He mewed and licked his lips and Samantha followed her colleagues into the hall.
Lunchtime came and Dave hadn’t made an appearance. There had been no phone call stating sickness, no appointment in his diary - although Samantha had never really thought he kept it up to date - and the bun lady had left disappointed because her best customer had failed to show.
Samantha had been flat out all morning. She’d been on the front desk for the majority of the time, but the rest she had spent doing something unheard of and completely out of character. She had rifled through Dave’s office. She needed to find out everything she possibly could about the council’s plan. She was certain Dave must have received more than a phone call a few days before the visit and the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced there had to be a letter.
She was supposed to be at lunch but her stomach hadn’t felt right since she had received the news about the hall and she couldn’t even face opening her lunchbox.
The bottom right hand drawer of Dave’s filing cabinet wouldn’t open. At first Samantha thought it was just stuck, as nothing else in Dave’s room was locked and he wasn’t really a great one for confidentiality. Then, after some gratuitous pulling, she came to the conclusion that it really must be locked. She was searching through the pot of paperclips and elastic bands on the desk looking for the key when all of a sudden the office door burst open.
She immediately panicked, shot backwards in Dave’s executive chair and, after it had banged against the wall, she only managed to avoid falling onto the floor by gripping the desk tightly with both hands and holding on.
‘Hey, you need a hand there?’ Jimmy’s voice asked as he appeared in the room.
‘No! No, I’m fine, thank you. I thought you were Dave - close the door,’ Samantha whispered hurriedly as she hauled herself up and indicated the open entrance.
He was wearing blue again. A tight blue t-shirt and figure hugging trackers. Blue suited him, well everything suited him, but blue was the best. When she imagined him he was usually in blue. Not that she imagined him often.
‘Why are we whispering?’ Jimmy asked her in hushed tones.
‘Because I don’t want the others to hear. How are you with picking locks?’ Samantha enquired, tugging again at the drawer.
‘Picking locks. Hmm, can’t say I’ve much cause to do that in my line of work. But I’m ashamed to admit I did break into the odd high school locker in my time - purely for prank purposes obviously, I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea about me,’ Jimmy spoke as he joined Samantha behind the desk to see what she was doing.
‘Can you open this drawer? I can’t find the key and I just know the evidence is in there,’ Samantha said still pulling at the drawer with all her might.
‘I don’t think it’s locked, I think it’s just jammed,’ Jimmy told her.
‘No, it’s definitely locked. I’ve been trying to open it for at least ten minutes and believe me, it’s locked,’ Samantha insisted, going red in the face as she carried on tugging.
‘Humour me and let me try?’ Jimmy suggested, taking hold of the drawer’s handle.
‘Well, you can try but I’m telling you, it’s…’ Samantha began, standing back and letting Jimmy take up her position.
In one quick motion Jimmy fiercely jerked the drawer handle and it opened, revealing the contents.
‘I was sure it was locked,’ Samantha said her face red with embarrassment.
‘Beginners luck, you loosened it I’m sure. So, what are we looking for?’ Jimmy enquired, taking out some files and beginning to flick through them.
‘Goodness! No! You mustn’t look at this. It’s Civic Hall property, highly confidential - give the files to me!’ Samantha exclaimed in horror and snatched the paperwork out of Jimmy’s hands.
‘Just trying to help. I hope you haven’t forgotten our deal,’ Jimmy reminded her.
‘No I haven’t forgotten it. I’ll be on the ice, after the show, being your useless pupil, putting my feet in the wrong position and not holding my arms out,’ Samantha spoke as she leafed through the correspondence.
‘That makes it sound like you didn’t enjoy last night. I know that isn’t true because you were practically skipping round the ice at the end,’ Jimmy spoke.
‘I think it was actually more like tripping than skipping. I’m really sorry about Cleo, being drunk and mauling you and everything.’
‘It was fine. I had hoped for a quiet drink, but it was very entertaining. I admire Jeremy, he must have his work cut out.’
‘Something like that. He had to hold her head out of the taxi window so she could puke but not a trace of a hangover this morning though, apart from the memory loss.’
‘Why didn’t you want Cleo to know you’d been learning to improve your skating?’ Jimmy enquired.
‘Didn’t I? Well, I…’
‘You told her I’d been practicing with Dana.’
‘Well, er, she was drunk, it was just easier - ah ha! I knew it!’ Samantha exclaimed, pulling some pieces of correspondence out of one of the files and ignoring Jimmy’s comments.
‘What exactly are you looking for?’ Jimmy wanted to know.
He leaned closer to Samantha to try and get a glimpse at the paperwork she was perusing.
‘This! And this! And this! He’s had at least three letters telling him what was happening with the council’s amenities budget and saying that there would be someone coming to talk to him about the matter. At least three letters and he said nothing to any of us!’ Samantha exclaimed in horror at Dave’s lack of consideration.
‘I don’t know why you’re surprised. Look at the guy’s desk. I’m shocked your acts arrive in the right place at the right time. It doesn’t look like anyone could coordinate anything from here,’ Jimmy commented, pushing aside a packet of biscuits and two men's magazines.
‘This is it on a good day. Oh my goodness! There’s a meeting, about the halls, it’s on the twenty fourth, that’s next…’ Samantha began as she read the letter she was holding.
‘Next week, yes, that’s what I came to tell you,’ Jimmy butted in.
‘How do you know about it?’ Samantha asked, looking at him suspiciously.
‘I phoned the council this morning and spoke to a Mrs Randall. She’s a colleague of Mr Radcliffe’s in the amenities section. She was really helpful and we had a good talk. She said that of the two amenities in question they would prefer not to close the Civic Hall, because of the history, because of its size, just like you said. But she said that the other hall did seem on the whole to be more efficiently run.’
‘Why did she tell you all this? Who did you pretend to be? Barack Obama?’
‘No, Dave.’
‘What?! You can’t go around impersonating people!’
‘Should I have pretended to be Barack Obama?’
‘Maybe, at least there’s less chance she’s met him and you might have been able to do a more convincing accent.’
‘I can do Northern, Duck.’
‘That wasn’t very good.’
‘Well, anyhow, Mrs Randall told me about the meeting and she said the council would be more than happy to hear any proposals you had to make on improvements and future potential of the hall at that meeting. It would all be taken on board when the decision making process is in progress,’ Jimmy informed her.
‘Hear my proposals? I don’t have any proposals. What have you done? I’m not the manager here, I’m just a box office assistant,’ Samantha exclaimed in horror.
‘I think that will be changing soon. I suggested you as
my replacement, me as in me being Dave and Mrs Randall said she would be giving you a call about becoming the temporary manager,’ Jimmy continued.
‘Temporary manager,’ Samantha repeated her eyes glazing over as she considered the job title.
‘Yes, but temporary doesn’t mean temporary. I’m sure it will become permanent, it’s just a formality,’ Jimmy responded.
‘Manager of the Civic Hall,’ Samantha spoke, the words almost taking away her breath.
Her, Samantha Smith, in charge, running things, managing. She would be able to ensure that the Berry Fruits situation never arose again!
And then the excitement she felt was suddenly swamped with a feeling of terror. Being in charge meant the buck stopped with her. There would be no one to confer with, no one to advise her, no one to fall back on and no one else to blame for mistakes. And what if the hall did close and she had been the manager in charge of the failing amenity? She would be to blame for the job losses, Felicity, Jane, Karen, Aaron, Milo and Margaret and Mabel in the restaurant.
‘I know what you’re thinking, but I know you can do this,’ Jimmy stated hurriedly as if able to read her mind.
‘I don’t have any ideas or proposals. I can’t speak in front of a council meeting, I can’t do it. I cannot do it!’ Samantha exclaimed in almost a scream.
‘And you said that last night about the spiral and what happened? By the end of the session you really had it,’ Jimmy reminded her.
‘That isn’t the same,’ Samantha replied.
‘It’s exactly the same. It’s all about you not having any confidence in yourself and what you’re capable of,’ Jimmy spoke and he held both her arms and looked at her sincerely.
‘I don’t know the first thing about proposals, or public speaking, I…’ Samantha began.
‘We can work on it. I said I’d help you and now we know what we need to do. We need to find out what the other hall has that the Civic Hall doesn’t. We need to implement some new schemes to get more people through the door and I’ve given a friend of mine a call about developing a web page for posting a diary of events and doing on-line booking,’ Jimmy informed.
‘But I shouldn’t spend money. We need to save money and…’ Samantha spoke as she again began to worry, fear pummeling her chest.
‘Relax, it won’t cost the hall anything. He owes me a favour,’ Jimmy insisted.
‘Why are you doing this? Why do you want to help me?’
‘Well, for one I’m getting a very capable and improving student ice dancer to work with and secondly - I think you’re genuine and loyal and you need a bit of a break. There aren’t many genuine people in my world right now,’ Jimmy told her sincerely.
Samantha took a deep breath and then she realised he was holding her arms. She caught sight of the Minstrel eyes and quickly stepped backwards in a sudden and awkward motion, knocking Dave’s packet of biscuits off the desk and onto the floor.
There was a knock on the door and Felicity appeared.
‘Sorry to interrupt but there’s a phone call for you and I thought it sounded important,’ Felicity spoke as she watched Samantha’s face turn red as she picked the biscuit packet up.
‘It can’t be for me, I don’t get personal calls here,’ Samantha retorted nervously pushing her hair back behind her ears.
‘It isn’t a personal call. It’s Mrs Randall from the council - she asked for you specifically,’ Felicity continued.
‘Hey, see! I told you, go and take the call,’ Jimmy said encouragingly.
Samantha’s cheeks reddened even more and she hurried from Dave’s office to the front desk where the call awaited.
Twelve
The temporary manager. She was the temporary manager of Woolston Civic Hall. They were even going to provide her with a new name badge. Samantha Smith, Manager. Dave had left. He had phoned the council from the airport. He was joining his cruise ship, setting sail on his new career journey pissing off holidaymakers and probably arranging COCKS (Cruise Operatives Certificate for Keen Service). It would no doubt involve a large meal onboard and a grope behind the lifeboats. His reign had ended and Samantha was now in charge.
She hadn’t known what to say to Mrs Randall and when the call finished she couldn’t remember exactly what she had said. Fortunately, Mrs Randall had done a lot of talking so Samantha’s stunned silence had probably just come across as attentive listening, or so she hoped. She did remember that she had had a lump in her throat when Mrs Randall told her of her appointment. That, she decided, was probably a good thing as it partially blocked her urge to hyperventilate. She was sure she had managed a ‘yes’, a ‘thank you’ and a ‘goodbye’, although she couldn’t really be sure.
Even now, as she watched the ice show going on in front of her, she still couldn’t believe she was in charge of the hall and all its functions. It was both terrifying and exciting. A bit like ice skating really.
Samantha was so engrossed in her thoughts, trying to determine how she was going to convince the council the Civic Hall was a local necessity that she didn’t see Cleo approaching.
‘Is Darren here?’ Cleo whispered as she sidled up to Samantha’s shoulder.
‘What? No, no he isn’t. What are you doing out of your seat? There’s fifteen minutes before the interval,’ Samantha remarked, checking her watch.
‘Well I’ve seen the show haven’t I, I know what’s coming. This is the boring bit - that skinny Russian chick being flung around on a chair,’ Cleo spoke and indicated the performers taking to the ice.
‘Sshh, keep your voice down. It’s very difficult to use a prop on the ice you know - they’re very unpredictable,’ Samantha informed her.
‘So, when are you going out with Darren again?’ Cleo questioned.
‘Sshh,’ Samantha hissed as a woman in a row near to them looked around at their chatting.
‘Sorry! So when are you seeing him again?’ Cleo asked, lowering her voice a notch.
‘I don’t know. Go back to your seat, you’re causing a fire hazard by standing here,’ Samantha informed her sister.
‘Two women in the toilets were saying that Jimmy Lloyd must be back on the booze. Apparently he dropped his partner the other night, almost blood on the rink. You never mentioned it,’ Cleo continued in hushed tones.
‘That’s a complete exaggeration. He didn’t drop her and it was her fault actually,’ Samantha replied hurriedly and rather more loudly than she had anticipated.
The woman who had looked at them before turned around again and glared.
‘Well the women in the loos said they saw him after the show and he had a really ruddy complexion and starey eyes - you know - like he’d been downing scotch in the interval,’ Cleo carried on.
‘I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. That’s how gossip starts. You shouldn’t listen to it and you definitely shouldn’t be passing it on,’ Samantha exclaimed angrily.
‘Sshh Sam, you’re shouting,’ Cleo told her as the woman looked around again and this time gave a loud tut of disgust.
‘Well, fancy starting a rumour like that! Especially spreading it around in a public place,’ Samantha continued, beginning to perspire.
‘Calm down Sam, and keep your voice down. God I wish I hadn’t told you now. I didn’t think you were going to go all crazy on me,’ Cleo replied.
‘I’m not going crazy I just don’t think people should spread gossip like that, particularly when there’s not an ounce of truth in it,’ Samantha told her sister.
‘Whoa! OK, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m sorry I relayed the awful, untrue gossip and I won’t repeat it to anyone else. Will that do?’ Cleo asked her.
‘What are you doing here anyway? You only saw the show a few nights ago,’ Samantha commented as she tried to gather her composure.
‘Well, I gave some tickets to these clients I met when I showed them round a house the other day, but Sarah, the girl, had to go and visit a sick aunt or something. So Jeremy and I have Paul as our gooseberr
y. He insisted we accompany him. I think he thinks he can get us to knock ten grand off the house he likes,’ Cleo explained.
‘Well perhaps you ought to go back to your seat and help Jeremy. It’s only ten minutes until the interval and I have to get my skates on before I get weighed down with ice creams,’ Samantha spoke, wanting to get rid of her sister.
‘Yeah OK, I get the hint. But I will wait up with hot chocolate and I expect all the information on Darren. By the way I know what happened last night, Jeremy told me. We had coffees, Worcester sauce crisps and curry here - bless you,’ Cleo spoke with a smile, backing away from Samantha.
Samantha smiled back at Cleo, glad Jeremy hadn’t noticed her outrageous flirting with Jimmy and also glad he hadn’t mentioned the puking down the side of the taxi.
When she was sure Cleo was completely gone and not returning, her smile dropped. She had defended Jimmy rather too fiercely and again without thinking before opening her mouth. What did she really know about him and his problems? All she knew was that he had perfect eyes, perfect hair and a perfect smile. He was kind and funny and, although she knew she shouldn’t, she liked the way he held her when they skated. And this morning she had managed a whole conversation with him without having a panic attack. That had to be a good thing didn’t it?
‘Miss Smith, Civic Hall manager! How was your first evening in charge?’ Jimmy asked her as she skated onto the rink to join him after the show.
‘Uneventful, which is good. Down to less than two thousand Berry Fruits which is even better,’ Samantha spoke.
‘What?’
‘Oh, sorry, just stock control on the ice creams.’
‘Stock control - you’re talking like a true leader,’ Jimmy told her, taking hold of her hand and smiling.
‘But it’s just ice cream. It isn’t standing up in front of Woolston Borough Council trying to save the hall. Maybe dealing with an ice cream situation is my limit,’ Samantha suggested as they began to skate around the rink to warm up.