‘I didn’t expect you to actually come down to help out,’ I said, rushing forward to help Malcolm as he heaved himself out of the taxi. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting that ankle?’
He passed me his crutches to hold while he balanced on one foot and adjusted his rucksack on his shoulders.
‘If I rest it any more, it’s going to wither and fall off. My brain is certainly going that way. I’ve finished every book in the house and my lovely wife can only do so many library runs for me. Don’t worry, I’m steady now. You can stop bracing yourself to catch me.’
I returned his crutches and then hovered within supporting distance as he smoothly made his way inside, nodding and smiling at the members of staff who’d suddenly found a reason to be hanging around in the theatre’s foyer.
‘I didn’t think I’d ever be crossing this threshold again,’ he said, looking around as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Remind me, how long is Ian away?’
‘Until the second week of March. Unless the cruise ship audience can’t get enough of him and his contract is extended, of course. Or maybe he’ll stay on as a guest; you know how much he enjoys a sunny climate. Didn’t he go off on a lengthy holiday this time last year?’
‘But last year the theatre wasn’t in such dire straits.’
‘I think it probably was, but he was pretending it wasn’t.’
‘He’s still pretending, if you ask me,’ muttered Malcolm. ‘I mean look at this place. The staff probably outnumber the audience ten to one. It’s shameful that he’s not here fighting with every last breath to save these people’s jobs, rather than putting his own ego first.’
‘It is what it is. At least we’re trying something, rather than passively waiting for the axe to fall. Now, are you sure you don’t want to sit and direct operations from up here? The steps down to the Cellar Bar are rather uneven. We’ll have to investigate getting a lift installed. If it becomes a success, of course.’ I was getting way ahead of myself. We hadn’t even had the first paying customer through the doors yet.
Malcolm grinned. ‘If I can manage the stairs at home, I can cope with the steps down to the Cellar Bar. Did you track down everything on my list?’
‘Kind of. In the end I had to get some help.’
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
‘Leonie insisted on getting involved, even though I warned her off so she can have plausible deniability if the boss throws his toys out of the pram when he discovers how far I’ve pushed the plans. It turns out the transformation of the Cellar Bar is an open secret around these parts, despite my best efforts to keep it on the down low. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I’m glad everyone seems to be getting behind the idea. For now at least.’
Malcolm nodded approvingly. ‘That woman will go far. She deserves promotion to a more senior role. It’s outrageous that Ian has kept her on apprentice wages for so long.’
‘Another outrage to add to the long list. Anyway, she’s insisted that she’ll do the lighting for the opening night, and I know she’s going to do a fab job.’
‘And what is the opening night going to comprise of? No, actually, let me concentrate on getting down these stairs, hen, and then you can tell me all about it. No need to fuss over me. I’d prefer it if you walked behind me, if you don’t mind. I’d rather not take you out in the process if I tumble down.’
‘Way to make me feel confident about your crutch-wielding abilities, Malc,’ I said, keeping a close eye on him as he made slow but steady progress down the stairs.
I had a chair set up ready for him at the bottom, but he ignored it in favour of doing a careful inspection lap. He paused every so often to examine the old posters which I’d framed, and to flick through the programmes from each period of the Variety’s history which I’d put in a display stand. When he reached the top of the room, he looked back to suss out how the chairs were arranged, before peering closely at the lights which Leonie had set up on discreet stands in each corner.
‘What’s the verdict?’ I asked. Malcolm’s opinion really mattered to me.
‘It’ll do,’ he said. ‘In fact, it’ll more than do. It’s a good performing space and this rig will work grand for illuminating it.’
‘Leonie did the preliminary setting up. She sends her apologies—she had to go and pick up her little boy from school—otherwise she’d have been here. But she assures me that there are still a few tweaks in the system which need to be finalised by the master.’
‘I’m sure Leonie could do it in her sleep,’ he said, but he looked pleased to be included. It was important to me that Malcolm felt part of this. After all, he was the one who’d inspired me to take the plunge and go for it.
He settled down in the chair I’d readied for him by one of the lighting stands, and then directed me how to do the final adjustments of the lamps.
‘I could get used to this bossing people around,’ he said, as I moved the faders up on the control panel and stood back to assess our work.
‘You’re very good at it. In a nice way,’ I added hastily.
Malcolm smiled. ‘Actually, I think you’re the one who’s demonstrated the real leadership capabilities sorting out all this. You seem to have found your calling.’
I pursed my lips. ‘Let’s see how the grand opening goes before getting too carried away.’
In truth, calling it a grand opening was rather overstating it. I preferred to think of it as a soft launch, a trial run to see how the night went and iron out any issues before we went big the following week. Or at least, that had been my plan. But flush with the success of busking, I’d somehow found myself dropping Ottilie Havers a line to tell her about the opening event, and now instead of having an understated open mic night, the event I’d named ‘Edinburgh’s Got Talent’ was going to be a significantly bigger deal. And so far, I had precisely zero people signed up to take part in it.
‘I shall look forward to taking my seat in the audience,’ said Malcolm.
‘You’re going to be dazzled by the range of talent on display,’ I promised, once again setting myself up for a challenge.
‘I’d expect nothing less. And what will you be performing at the event?’ asked Malcolm. ‘Because a little birdie told me you’ve been out playing that violin of yours again. This would be the perfect stage for you.’
I shot him a glance. Was he being serious? I’d never spoken to Malcolm about my musical history, but I wasn’t surprised that he was aware of it anyway. Not much that happened in Edinburgh’s arts scene passed him by.
‘I’ll be far too busy running around making sure the thing goes smoothly,’ I said.
‘But—’
‘No buts, that’s my final word on it. Now as you’re here, would you mind proofreading my social media posts before I hit publish on them. I’d hate for a typo to slip through and make the whole thing look amateurish.’
It was a calculated gamble advertising the event on the Variety’s social media pages. There was always the risk that Ian would see the posts and ring up demanding that the whole thing be shut down. But I hoped he’d be too busy enjoying being a minor celebrity on his cruise ship to be paying attention to anything that was going on back at home.
The other part of my strategy was a bit more old-fashioned. I’d produced a load of flyers which I intended to personally deliver around the city, targeting other open mic nights in particular. I wasn’t trying to steal their business—I was sure there was more than enough of it to go around—but I wanted to let those on the scene know that there was a new venue on the circuit. But I didn’t intend to deliver them alone. As Malcolm did a final check of the lighting desk, I tapped out a quick text.
Hey, I’m planning to do a bar crawl on Saturday night. Before you get too excited, it’s a work thing. I’m going to be delivering leaflets to entice performers to sign up for our open mic night. But I’d love it if you could join me. Let me know!
I hit send before I could change my mind. With a whoosh the message sped off to my chosen recipients: Cass, Meg, Jodie, and a new addition, Leonie.
From: cameron.a@myemail.com
To: a.cameron@myemail.com
Date: 10 Feb, 12:49
Subject: Re: Busking in February
Hi Amy,
As you asked, I also prefer Cameron. That’s not to say I hate being called Cam at all, but it’s not an abbreviation I actively introduce myself with because it reminds me of the name of a river rather than my own name. I shall take it as a sign of friendship (affection?) that you’ve used it.
You’re absolutely right. A polar plunge has nothing on busking in Edinburgh in February. Just thinking about it has made me shiver with dread. But surely it was worth it to do the duet with the dog? This is another thing on which we clearly agree—black Labradors are the best, although Springer Spaniels could give them a run for their money. I grew up with a gaggle of both varieties, a pack of slobbery, hairy beasts, the softest and kindest creatures imaginable. I often think of the Labs when I spot seals on our Zodiac trips here. They have the same kind of sleek head in the water and eyes which are interested in everything. Although having said that, the seals here are much chunkier than any Labrador should be, despite them all being eating machines in my experience.
What pieces did you play? I’m asking purely so I can pester all my colleagues to see if they have any of them on their various music devices. Of course, it won’t be the same as hearing you perform them, but it’s the closest thing to it.
You asked about the itinerary on this expedition, so I shall gladly take the excuse to tell you about something very exciting. I’m never quite sure how much to talk about what I’m getting up to because I’m acutely aware that I don’t want to come across as showing off. I do keep having to pinch myself that I’m getting to do all the things that I am. I may be working, but I’d happily do the job for free (if only I could afford it!) to be able to do everything that I am. Last night was another of those once in a lifetime experiences. We camped out for the night on the Antarctic continent. I know! Now I’m the kind of person who would normally avoid camping at all costs. I went to Glastonbury under duress and although the music was incredible, staying in a flooded tent and wading through mud to get everywhere was not exactly in my comfort zone. Call me a snowflake, but I enjoy the comfort of my own bed. But if you’re offered the chance to sleep under the stars in Antarctica, then you’d be a fool to say no.
I say sleep under the stars, but it being the summer here, it stays light for most of the night. No matter, I went fully prepared not to sleep a wink. Crew and passengers all had to attend a very serious briefing at which we were issued with our kit: sleeping bags which are cosy up to minus forty degrees centigrade, and the thickest mats to lie on which you could imagine. You’ll note that tents were not provided. However, there was a portable toilet—a loo with a view if you will, set up away from the sleeping bags and hidden by virtue of being down a slope. Instead of an engaged sign, there was a little flag at a discreet distance. If it was raised, the toilet was occupied; down, then you’re free to proceed. I realise I’ve devoted more description to the toilet situation than the lack of tent, but it’s the kind of practical consideration that had got all the guests talking and proved pivotal for many of them in deciding whether or not they were going to take part in the excursion. (You’re going to regret having asked about the itinerary, aren’t you?!)
Every time we go ashore, it takes a lot of preparation with all the dipping in disinfectant etc so we don’t take any contaminants with us, but this was something else. The Zodiacs did dozens of shuttle runs ferrying everyone and everything to our chosen campsite. The first few hours I was really busy. I was involved with a session on mobile phone photography, and then we did some work on how to take close focus images and knock out the background in an artistically blurred manner. Then of course I couldn’t resist getting lots of snaps of everyone setting up their sleeping bags and bedding down for the night. Actually, I think it was a good thing that I was kept busy until much later as it meant there was less time for me to get cold.
I felt pretty nervous getting into my sleeping bag. I was still fully dressed, the only items removed were the heavy duty insulated wellington boots which we all wear for the landings. I buried down in that sleeping bag so barely any of my face was exposed and then I tried to get to sleep. In truth, I don’t think anyone really slept a wink at all. It was like being a kid again having a mass sleepover, whispers going back and forth, somebody giggling, and then somebody else attempting to shush them. And then someone started humming, and another person joined in and then another, and before we knew it, the whole encampment was quietly singing ‘Thank you for the music’ by ABBA. I know it sounds terribly twee, but it was pretty magical. And then I’ll admit I felt a little sad, because I couldn’t help thinking that I knew somebody who might enjoy being here and singing along with the rest of us. Wish you were here.
C x
PS: We’re heading off to Port Lockroy again tomorrow. I wonder if any of the postcards I sent last time we were there have reached their destination yet. Thankfully we’re lacking in attention-seeking influencers on this trip so I’m hoping it will be a less dramatic visit.