16

It came in a fairly inconspicuous brown cardboard box. Davina handed it to her as she walked through the door.

‘I think it’s a prop? I wasn’t sure if I should open it or not.’

Hattie took a look at the handwritten delivery label, which began: ‘FAO Keith Macaulay, C/O Love’s Labour’s Lost SM Dept, ACDA…’

The only other feature of the box was a small label on the reverse, also handwritten, which said: ‘If undelivered, please return to Cheap Props Ltd, SW1A 1AA.’

‘That’s odd,’ said Hattie. ‘I don’t think I’d ordered anything for the show. Did you?’

‘Nothing small enough to fit in a box like that,’ replied Davina.

Hattie gave the box a thoughtful look.

‘You remember that time last term you thought you’d found some cheap maracas on eBay for the Havana scene of Guys & Dolls, and when they turned up they were only two inches long?’

Davina squirmed and nodded.

‘I’m very much hoping that this box doesn’t contain the world’s smallest set of miniature golf clubs, that’s all,’ said Hattie, with a wink. ‘They looked full-size in the photo, but you never know…’

Taking a pair of scissors she carefully cut through the packing tape, and opened the lid of the box. Inside was a selection of cheap plastic carnival masks in assorted colours, the sort you could pick up by the dozen at any fancy dress shop. Hattie, bewildered, held one up to Davina.

‘You didn’t order any masks for the Russian disguise scene, did you?’

Davina shook her head.

Rooting through the box, Hattie also found a scrap of paper with a note on it, also handwritten, seemingly by the same person who wrote the label on the box. The note said, simply:

Is Frank coming on opening night? Would love a chat.

Hattie frowned.

‘Bizarre,’ she murmured. ‘Well, maybe this is something Keith ordered, although why he got it delivered here…’

She tailed off, as her eyes drifted back to the masks. One of them, she realised, wasn’t like the others. One of them…

Her breath caught in her throat. One of the masks, nestled at the bottom of the box wasn’t made of plastic. It was covered in black velvet, with gold thread criss-crossing over its face, and small clear gemstones set at every intersection. It almost looked at home among all its cheap companions: if Hattie hadn’t recognised what it was she might not have spotted that the jewels on it sparkled just a little bit more than you’d expect from plastic or glass…

‘Oh bloody hell.’

‘What is it?’ asked Davina.

‘Er… never mind,’ replied Hattie. ‘I know what this is. It’s Keith’s. I think he’ll be pleased to see it. In fact, I may as well go and deliver it to him now. Are you all right to hold the fort here?’

Davina, looking confused, nodded. Hattie closed the box of masks again, tried to fit the whole thing into her handbag, and, unable to, found a shopping bag instead. She was at first slightly concerned that the bag was thin enough to be slightly transparent, so that the box was visible inside. Then she reminded herself that the only person who could possibly know the significance of the box was highly unlikely to want to steal it again, given that they’d only just returned the damn thing. Still, the thought of the value of the item that she was carrying made Hattie nervous, and she clutched the carrier bag extra tightly as she stepped out of ACDA.

So discombobulated was she by the worth of the mask that, upon arriving at the Tavistock, Hattie was perhaps a little over-eager to return it to its rightful owner, dispensing with her normal manners and walking straight into the office without knocking. It was thanks to this eagerness, therefore, that she found Keith and Robin, pressed close up against one another, in the far corner of the room. Keith, whose back was to her when she walked in, spun around and ran his hand with exaggerated casualness through his hair, the gesture not doing much to disguise the stark fact that, seconds earlier, that same hand had been down Robin’s trousers. Robin, for his part, turned an immediate beetroot red and swung his hips around to try, unsuccessfully, to get his tent-poled trouser crotch out of Hattie’s eyeline.

Hattie and Keith made awkward eye contact for a second, until Keith gave a little shrug, as if simultaneously to acknowledge that he’d been busted and to play down the significance of what (and who) he’d been busted doing.

‘Well this is an unexpected—’ he began.

‘I’m so sorry, I should have knocked—’ blurted Hattie.

‘—pleasure, but do come in. What can I do for you?’ Keith continued firmly, evidently keen not to have to actually talk about what Hattie had just seen. For his part, Robin cowered in the corner, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

‘Well… er, I’ve got…’ mumbled Hattie, uncertainly. On the trip over on the Underground she had indulged herself by fantasising about saying something flippant like ‘Is this yours?’ while showily twirling the mask around one finger. Wrong-footed at the outset, however, it was all she could do to produce the box from her shopping bag, dig the mask out and hand it straight to Keith.

‘Oh you bloody darling,’ breathed Keith, snatching it from her. ‘Oh you absolute showstopper. Where on earth did you get it?’

He closed his eyes and kissed the mask, and looked like a man who has just had the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. Even Robin forgot his embarrassment and came forward to peer at it.

‘It came in the post,’ explained Hattie, handing Keith the box. He took it greedily and examined it all over. He frowned when he saw the returns label on the back, and looked perplexed when he discovered the other masks within. But when he discovered the note inside, his good mood evaporated as quickly as it had appeared.

‘Oh bloody hell. Oh Helen Mirren’s knickers. Oh… follow-spots!’

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Hattie.

‘The problem? The problem, my darling, is that this is a threat. A pretty bloody diabolical one.’

‘I don’t understand. Who’s this Frank? And what’s the threat?’

‘That’s above your pay grade, my love. But unfortunately, it means that this just swung from a minor drama to a full-scale crisis. I need to know where this parcel came from.’

‘It got delivered to ACDA. Davina picked it up. But look, on the back it says—’

‘Yes, yes, it’s got a fake company name, and the postcode is for Buckingham Palace. Ignore that. But you say Davina gave it to you. Is this her handwriting?’

‘Honestly, I’m not sure,’ replied Hattie.

‘Christ, if it was Davina all along…’

‘I’m sure it wasn’t,’ said Hattie firmly. ‘I’ve got photo evidence that she was at the Menier the evening the mask was taken.’

‘You’re sure about that?’ asked Keith, suspiciously.

‘Positive,’ said Hattie. ‘But I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that too. The staff downstairs say they didn’t see anyone go through from the pub on Sunday early evening. Are you absolutely sure that was when it was taken?’

‘Positive,’ replied Keith, mimicking Hattie’s previous response. ‘Any earlier and I’d have seen the broken lock, any later and I was either in the theatre or the office door was locked.’

‘And you didn’t nip out at any point after you came back that evening? There was no point when someone could have snuck in?’

Keith frowned.

‘There were maybe three minutes right at the end of the night when I was in the bar having my nightcap. Someone could have conceivably got in the side door then. If they could have been in and out in three minutes I suppose it’s possible it could have been then.’

‘That sounds unlikely,’ mused Hattie. ‘I spoke to Sha— to someone about what it would take to melt the lock with a blowtorch, and he suggested either it would take an awfully long time, or, if you managed to haul some industrial strength kit up here, you could do it faster but you’d still make a hell of a mess in the process… You do have a smoke alarm up here, right?’

‘Oh Lord yes,’ replied Keith, gesturing towards a white box on the ceiling. ‘Tinderbox, this place is. The insurers would never cover us if we didn’t have detectors up the wazoo. Otherwise I’d have burned this place down for a pay-out long ago.’

Hattie had a feeling he wasn’t joking.

‘Then whoever came in must have done it while you were out for supper, although how they got into the theatre I don’t know. But that rules out Davina, and I cannot for the life of me believe it would be any of the rest of the crew. Of course, if you’d tell me what th—’

‘Not even Stephen? He’s technically skilled, he’s got a chip on his shoulder, and he’s got the morals of a mediaeval grave robber.’

‘That’s not true, Keith. Steve’s got probably the most straightforward moral compass of anyone. Besides he’s so down-to-earth, and all this business with masks and notes is a bit Phantom of the Opera, you know? But what does the—’

‘The cast then!’ insisted Keith, with a glint in his eye that wasn’t a million miles off manic. ‘Actors are all drama queens, this would be right in character. You’ll have to start questioning them.’

‘But I don’t know what I’m asking about,’ Hattie persisted. ‘If you’d only tell me what this note is all about then maybe I could help more.’

‘You don’t need to know about the note. You wouldn’t understand the note. All you have to do is what I tell you to do, and I’m telling you to go talk to the cast.’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake!’ cried Hattie, reaching the end of her patience. ‘You have the mask. You wanted it back, I got you it back. I’ve done everything you asked of me, I’ve gone far above and beyond my responsibilities as your stage manager, and frankly I’m getting sick of all these endless demands that I solve your problems when you won’t even tell me what they are!’

They stared at each other in silence for a second.

Then Keith said, coldly, ‘Well, thank you for all your input, Hattie. I’m sure you have plenty of things to be getting on with. I’m sorry that you weren’t prepared to be more helpful, but I understand that there are limits to your abilities. It’s been a not-unalloyed pleasure working together, so I take some comfort in knowing that, when the house goes dark for the last time, at least we won’t cross paths again.’

And with that he turned his back to her. It was a ridiculous gesture, Hattie thought, because he was now more or less facing the wall, and there was nothing he could usefully do there without turning back around. So she stood in silence for a second, and then, with a little malicious thrill of defiance, turned to Robin.

‘Robin, my love,’ she said cheerily. ‘While I’m here, I just wanted to finish the conversation we started last week. Have you ever considered working backstage? I thought you might be the sort of person who enjoys being in the thick of it all, instead of cooped up away from the action in an office. It’s really not a bad life, after all.’

‘Oh, I… I hadn’t really thought…’ stuttered Robin. Keith, now trapped facing the wrong way by his dramatic gesture, huffed noisily.

‘Well, I’d love to chat about it some time. If, you know, you want to find a career path in the theatre beyond… this.’

‘Uh… OK. Sure,’ said Robin, glancing awkwardly over at Keith’s back for support.

‘Well, I must be getting along. Bye for now.’ Hattie smiled as warmly as she could.

‘Bye,’ replied Robin shyly.

‘And see you soon, Keith,’ she called out, aggressively merrily.

Keith, resentfully, shuffled back around.

‘Bye,’ he muttered.

Well, thought Hattie to herself, that was it then. No more furtive investigations, no more asking difficult questions on false pretences. Whatever he said, she’d done everything he’d asked of her. If the theatre was still in jeopardy, in ways that Keith couldn’t or wouldn’t explain to her, he’d just have to sort it out himself. And if it all turned out to be related to Miguel’s black eye, or Steve’s slightly off behaviour, or the whole Atlanta palaver, she was sure someone cleverer than her would work out how. For her, it was over. And just in time too. With the show opening in little over a week, she needed to give it her full attention.

It’s just…

No. Don’t waste any more brain power on it.

Hattie set off back towards ACDA.