The following night Nick chaired a meeting to plan a strategy for saving the theatre. He’d chosen a nearby wine bar as the venue. Artwork decorated the rough-plastered walls; beaten-metal fish and geckoes caught the light in shades of bronze, silver and purple, the same shades picked up on heavy glazed pottery plates along a shelf. The group found a corner table where they could have a reasonably quiet conversation.
Sub-committee members, Clara-Jane, Austin, Phil, Jessica, and Howard’s wife MaryAnn, tossed around ideas for the benefit concert while Nick took notes.
‘Why can’t we get a stripper then, eh? I’d pay good money to watch a pretty little dolly-bird take her clothes off onstage.’
‘Yes, Austin, I’m sure you would. But an act like that wouldn’t have a broad appeal for a family show and that’s what we’re aiming at.’
‘If she’s a pretty enough broad, she’ll appeal to me!’ Austin rubbed his hands together and winked knowingly.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Austin!’ Nick exploded at last. ‘Take a bloody pill or something, will you?’
Jessica hid a smile; this was a side of Nick she hadn’t seen before.
‘I’ve got some, thanks. Little blue ones. Jolly good they are too – d’you want one?’
‘Austin!’ The entire planning committee voiced their disapproval.
Nick sighed wearily. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to hold this meeting in a wine bar. Should we go back to the Regent, do you think?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Clara-Jane. ‘This was a great idea, Nick. It’s nice to get a change of scene. I’m sure Austin was only joking and will stop now.’ She looked hard at Austin to reinforce the message. ‘Perhaps you could get us some water, Austin?’
‘All right, all right,’ he muttered, and stomped off to the bar.
‘Don’t let him get to you, Nick,’ she advised. ‘OK, he’s sleazy and disgusting at times but he’s a damn good stage manager, and has more theatre experience than all the rest of us put together.’
‘He’s probably had more than his share of all sorts of experiences,’ said MaryAnn tartly. ‘I sometimes feel like making Howard have an extra shower when he’s been around Austin for a day.’
Jessica saw Austin, carrying a tray of glasses and a bottle, weaving unsteadily back towards their table. ‘Anyway, Nick,’ she broke in quickly, ‘what have you got in mind for publicity so far?’
He brightened. ‘Clara-Jane’s been a busy girl and made a whole set of t-shirts already – the ones with the knives in the back. I figured we could grab as many society members as we can spare from show preparation and fit them out to go to the Kite Festival next weekend. They can wander through the crowd and hand out flyers about the theatre. I’ve already spoken with the organisers and they’re OK with it.’
‘Great!’ said Jessica. ‘Well done Nick, and well done Clara-Jane. Hey, who’s really photogenic that we could get to wear one? If we could score a picture in the paper that would really help.’
‘I can only say this because Pippa’s not here,’ said Phil, ‘but how about Tamara? I can’t think of anyone who fills out a t-shirt quite so, er, spectacularly.’
‘Good point. Or should I say good points!’ said Clara-Jane. ‘We might as well use her assets for a worthy cause for a change.’
‘Do you think that photographer, Bruce, would go along to the fair and take some shots of her, just in case the newspaper photographer doesn’t show up?’
‘I don’t think so, Jessica!’ Clara-Jane looked slightly stunned at the suggestion. ‘They don’t get on at all. Didn’t you notice the chill in the air when he was taking the promo photos last night?’
‘Oh God, don’t say she’s had an affair with him, too,’ groaned Phil. ‘I mean, as well as the other guys she’s slept with. Not me,’ he made sure they understood.
‘Of course not Phil, we know you’re pure as the driven snow!’ quipped Clara-Jane. ‘Didn’t you know? Bruce is her step-father. Apparently both her parents are very up-tight, conservative types who couldn’t handle her behaviour. He threw her out of the house when she turned eighteen, hoping it would shock her out her wild ways, but it didn’t seem to have much effect except that they don’t speak to each other any more.’
Clara-Jane paused. ‘At least, that’s what she told me, anyway. I’m not sure that it’s an entirely accurate picture. She does have a habit of embroidering the truth when it suits her.’
‘Good knockers, though,’ mused Austin, gazing into space. ‘Especially in a really skin-tight little shirt. Makes bulges in all the right places.’
‘Austin,’ said Jessica, ‘just this once, I have to agree with you.’
As the meeting concluded and they were leaving the wine bar, Jessica felt a hand on her arm.
‘Would you like to grab a cup of coffee someplace, Jess?’ Nick’s dark eyes gazed into hers.
‘Oh, not tonight, Nick – it’s getting a bit late and I think I’ve had enough of the theatre for now.’
‘I wasn’t intending to talk about theatre stuff,’ he assured her. ‘I just thought it would be nice to take a break, relax a bit, spend some time together. Come on, just one little coffee, what harm could it do?’
He smiled his most charming smile, but she just couldn’t summon up the enthusiasm to spend any more of the evening with him.
‘Not this time, Nick. Sorry. I want to head on home.’
‘Can I at least walk you back to your place then? It’s dark and I’d feel better if I knew you were home safely.’
She stared at him. ‘Nick, I’m starting to feel like I need protection from you! Honestly mate, you need to back off a notch or two, OK? It’s kind of you to offer, but no.’
He stood stock still. ‘Fine, walk home alone then. But don’t come crying to me if you get mugged or abducted on the way.’ He turned away abruptly, spitting out a low ‘Good night, Jessica,’ in a tone that implied anything but.
She winced inwardly, then shrugged it off. He’d get over it. It must have been the wine talking. Perhaps a walk home in the night air would cool his head.
Early the following night in the empty Green Room, Jessica pinned the Show Clock up on the wall. It was divided into segments, for the weeks leading up to the show and the actual whole run, right up to final night. She set the pointer at 8 weeks to opening night, knowing that it would spur both actors and stage crew to greater efforts when they saw how time was getting steadily shorter.
A door-slam and a low giggle alerted her that someone else was arriving early for rehearsal. Nobody appeared in the Green Room, so after a few minutes she popped her head through the heavy stage door to see who had arrived. In the dimly-lit corridor, two figures were welded together, leaning against the wall. Jessica saw a glimpse of red hair and rolled her eyes. Tamara. Entangled with what was possibly another victim to add to the notches on her bedpost. Surely her fret-worked bed frame must be in imminent danger of collapsing in pieces on the floor by now. Jessica closed the door quietly and went to check the state of the kitchen.
Shortly afterwards, she had an odd feeling of déjà vu when Nick and Tamara came into the kitchen, Tamara hanging onto his arm and laughing up at him. This time he didn’t detach her grip. In fact, he pulled her closer and brushed her tousled hair back with his other hand. Jessica put a cup down on the bench with enough of a bang to let them know they weren’t alone. Nick looked up.
‘Oh, hi Jessica,’ he said, very casually. ‘You’re here early, too. I just gave Tamara a lift here so she could try on one of the promo t-shirts.’ He smiled down at Tamara. ‘We’ll make sure you get one without a real knife in the back.’
Jessica thought that a mistake, but whatever. ‘Clara-Jane’s not here yet. Do you need me to unlock Wardrobe for you?’
He frowned. ‘Doesn’t my key open Wardrobe? I guess it doesn’t. Oh, all right then.’
Jessica ran easily up the narrow stairs to the wardrobe department and unlocked the door, while Nick and Tamara playfully squashed against each other, slowly climbing the steps. She let them pass her at the door and immediately headed down again, unwilling to be a part of whatever game Nick was playing. Let them fool around any way they wanted, as long as they put down a dustsheet and didn’t mess up the costumes. She hoped Clara-Jane wouldn’t be too annoyed that Jessica had let them loose in her domain. It was a relief to have Nick’s attention focused on someone else, but did it have to be Tamara? That was almost insulting.
Arriving at the theatre, Clara-Jane was genuinely horrified on hearing Jessica’s confession. She dropped her purple velvet shoulder bag on the Green Room floor and gasped.
‘He’s doing what? With her? That stupid, stupid man. I really thought he had more sense, not to mention more taste. What is he thinking?’ She shook her head. ‘No, he isn’t thinking. Not with his brain, anyway.’ She looked sideways at Jessica. ‘You don’t look too concerned about it.’
‘No, I’m not. Nick was getting a bit intense, actually. I’m glad he’s found another target. I just wish it wasn’t Tamara because there’s no way it’ll last beyond the end of next week.’
‘Oh, you don’t know that. Perhaps she’s finally found a love that’ll last her a lifetime.’
They chuckled.
Clara-Jane eyed Jessica thoughtfully. ‘Just to satisfy my curiosity – why don’t you like the idea of going out with Nick? He’s a nice guy, and he seemed pretty keen on you till you slammed the door in his face, so to speak. Just what is it that you’re looking for, girl?’
Jessica considered for a moment.
‘Someone who’s got more to them than just a pretty face. A guy who’s got presence as well as charm. Nick always strikes me as being so smooth and polished that you can’t see beyond the surface; and there might be nothing much there anyway. I don’t know, maybe I’m being a bit harsh, but that’s my gut feeling. Perhaps it’s because he’s in advertising – he seems all image and façade.’ She rested her chin on her hand. ‘What am I looking for? A grown-up, I guess. A man with some history and some depth.’
‘And yet,’ said Clara-Jane teasingly, ‘a man who’s still in touch with his inner child, with a wicked sense of humour. Let’s face it Jessica, you need someone who can appreciate your occasional inspired lunacy.’
The wardrobe door slammed shut and stairs creaked overhead as footsteps descended.
Nick ushered Tamara into the Green Room with a proprietary air, beating out a drum roll on the doorframe.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, our new promotions model, Miss Tamara Fitzpatrick!’
Tamara pulled the small t-shirt even tighter and jiggled her boobs. Across her prominent chest were the ever-so-slightly distorted words “The Regent Theatre has an appointment…”
She turned round to display the knife-handle protruding from her back, above the words “an Appointment with Death!”
Despite her feelings about the model, Jessica was impressed.
‘How did you get the knife to stick out like that, Clara-Jane?’
‘It’s only plastic. I just melted it a bit and bent the blade at right-angles halfway down, then glued it in place. Works well, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s going to get us a lot of attention,’ said Nick. Tamara slapped his arm playfully. ‘And Tamara will obviously catch every guy’s eye. I’ll make sure we find ourselves in front of the press photographer a few times; our little model here will do the rest, I’m sure.’
‘I’m sure she will, too’ said Clara-Jane drily. ‘You’d better take it off now so that it doesn’t get crushed before the weekend, Tamara. No! Not right here! Go into one of the dressing rooms, girl. There’ll be mature gentlemen arriving any minute; let’s not risk their dicky tickers.’
Right on cue, Austin came through the stage door, brightening visibly at the sight of Tamara’s curvaceous lettering. He hurried over and made a big show of reading the slogan slowly and carefully, back and front.
‘If the theatre’s got an appointment, can I have the one afterwards?’
Tamara made a face and disappeared into the main dressing room.
‘I must be losing my touch,’ Austin smirked, ‘as the leper said to the actress. How are we, boys and girls? Ready for another night of dramatic intercourse?’
‘No, just a rehearsal I think, Austin,’ deadpanned Jessica. ‘Let’s go see if everyone has arrived, shall we?’ She spun him round and propelled him towards the stage door.
Onstage, Adam was gathering the cast.
Jessica left them to it and retraced her steps to the Green Room where Clara-Jane was laying out Nadine’s nurse-like outfit and some Arab costumes on the big props table.
‘I’ve figured it out,’ announced Clara-Jane. ‘He’s doing it to make you jealous. It’s the only explanation for such an obvious about-face.’
‘Oh hell, you could be right. Damn, just when I thought he was off my case.’ She picked up a headdress and pulled it over her eyes. ‘Can you direct me to the nearest camel, please, memsahib? I am wanting to be leaving this oasis pretty damn quick.’
‘Don’t play with the props, dear,’ Gert admonished automatically, as she walked past on the way to the downstairs props room. Jessica put the headdress back and followed Gert down the stairs to the low-ceilinged basement area where she and her band of props helpers created the many weird items needed on stage. Jessica prowled around the shelves, fingering masks and implements, until Gert asked her to stop.
‘What are you doing, Jessica?’
‘Oh, just hiding, I guess. Is there anything I can help you with down here? I’d like to stay out of the way for a while.’
‘Yes, all right dear. You could rub some stain on this wooden box, if you like.’ She handed Jessica a slim rectangular lidded box. ‘It’s the doctor’s medical case so we need it to look well-used and much-travelled. Rags are over there and the tin of stain is behind you on the tray.’
Jessica spent half an hour contentedly staining and polishing until the box was done. ‘There you are, Gert. Is that OK? I’d better go and check on the rehearsal, but thanks for the safe haven.’
‘Any time, Jessica. We can always use an extra pair of hands down here.’
Hoping to avoid running into Nick, Jessica took a route through the Green Room, letting herself out of the back door, then walked along the narrow alley that ran beside the theatre to the street out front. She came in through the main entrance, nipping smartly up the stairs to the circle, slipping into one of the private boxes. Since they were seldom used, they were empty of furnishings, except for the tattiest of the theatre’s old chairs. The advantage was that from the box she could see the stage without being seen herself, and wouldn’t distract the cast.
Centre stage, the Boynton family was grouped round a low table with Simone glowering at her fellow actors. The girl playing Ginevra was agitatedly tearing a tissue into little pieces.
‘Ginevra, go and rest, you’re tired.’ Simone’s sudden deep voice made even Jessica jump, and the effect on Ginevra was painful to see.
‘I’m not really tired, Mother. I’m all right.’
‘No, Ginevra,’ said Simone, sounding oddly pleased. ‘You’re going to be ill.’
‘No I won’t! I will not be ill!’
‘Go to your room and lie down.’
Tamara, playing Nadine, offered to take Ginevra upstairs. ‘I’ll come up with you if you like.’
Jessica saw that Tamara’s eyes weren’t on Ginevra, but were looking offstage instead. She’d bet good money that Nick was standing in the wings making googly eyes right back at Tamara, enjoying the suggestion of going upstairs to bed. Behind the hotel’s front desk, Stewart went through the motions of lighting a cigarette for a guest.
A movement in the auditorium caught Jessica’s attention. A tall thin woman who she didn’t recognise was seated on the cross-aisle. She couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she seemed to be following Tamara’s movements with close attention. Jessica debated going down to see who she was, but decided that if Adam hadn’t objected to her presence then she wouldn’t interfere. Besides, Austin was seated in the front row and could easily deal with her if the need arose. She leaned back and watched more of the story unfold.
At the end of the session Adam gave the cast a few notes, then handed over to Clara-Jane for wardrobe fittings.
Austin stood up, holding a small parcel, and called out to Tamara. She walked downstage, squinting against the lights, and took it from him. She tore off the wrapping and held up a garment on a hanger. It unfolded, revealing a little white vinyl “naughty nurse” uniform, complete with split-crotch fur-trimmed panties and a stethoscope. She exclaimed in disgust, threw it back at him, and unleashed a torrent of invective that sent Austin reeling, laced as it was with obscenities that would have made even Billy Connolly blush. The theatre’s excellent acoustics meant that her voice penetrated every corner of the auditorium, leaving nobody in any doubt of her feelings at Austin’s highly inappropriate costume suggestion.
‘You’re a dirty, sleazy pervert!’ she screamed. ‘I bet you can’t even get it up any more and this is the only thing that gives you a thrill. Who’d want to screw you anyway, you filthy old goat! Go suck on your own dick and I hope it chokes you!’
‘Tamara!’
A stern voice from the auditorium stopped Tamara in mid-rant. She peered into the darkness, shading her eyes.
‘Oh Christ, that’s all I need.’ She spat out the words. ‘What the hell do you want? Have you come to tell me what a bad and horrible person I am again? Well, tell it to this guy instead, will you? He’s the one being an asshole.’
She turned to storm off stage but the thin woman called her back.
‘I want a word with you please, Tamara. Right now!’
The authority in her voice was strong enough to force the unwilling girl to obey. Tamara flounced down the steps from the stage to the auditorium and faced the woman square on. Tamara was rigid with anger, standing perfectly still, while the other spoke calmly and quietly. Jessica couldn’t tell what was being said, or even if Tamara was actually listening.
Meanwhile, Adam had taken Austin aside and was speaking to him very seriously. Austin was nodding, looking subdued. A few more minutes and he’d be ready to cry.
Jessica let out a deep breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. Another dramatic evening at the theatre – and the show hadn’t even opened yet.
It was just as well that Saturday dawned grey and damp with occasional showers forecasted, otherwise Jessica might have been tempted to skip going to the theatre in favour of going for a drive instead. On a sunny day, a trip in her little white VW convertible to visit some wineries or craft galleries would have been a much more appealing prospect than spending yet another afternoon shut away in the dim and dusty Regent.
Her first task, before the cast arrived, was to pick up all the messy bits of tissue left on the stage from Thursday night, muttering under her breath about actors expecting the crew to clear up after them. Fair enough when there was a performance, then the crew was responsible, but this was just rehearsal and at this stage they shouldn’t even be using props.
‘You all right there, Jessica?’ asked Howard, walking across the stage on his way to the workshop. ‘Happy talking to yourself?’
‘Yes thanks – just badmouthing the actors again. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Hey, if you’re free, would you give us a hand with this tent thing today?’
‘Sure. I’ve had enough of watching rehearsals this week. Some sane company would be great.’ She followed Howard into the workshop where he pulled out a large roll of cream canvas.
‘This is the material we’re using, and over there’s the tent design that young Nathan came up with. He’s getting clued in to how a set works now, so it should be fairly straightforward.’
She studied the sketch, noting approvingly how Nathan had given side views as well, and included outlines of each piece of fabric with the measurements required.
‘Wow, he has done well. We’ll have to keep him on.’
Gazza ambled in, warming his hands on a mug of coffee. He grunted a greeting even more taciturnly than usual.
‘Well, hi there, big fella,’ Jessica chirped brightly. ‘Are we going to have a swell time doing fun stuff today?’
He levelled a look at her that would have daunted a lesser woman. She pulled a face and laughed at him. ‘Are we a big grumpy bear this afternoon?’
‘We feckin’ will be if you carry on like that. At least let me drink my coffee first.’ He settled himself on a corner of the workbench and sighed.
Jessica wisely left him in peace and looked at the sketch again.
‘These scallops along the edge of the awning – are we going to have to sew all those?’
Howard looked over her shoulder. ‘That will be a hell of a job, won’t it? We’d probably need an industrial machine for it too. I wonder if any place in town stocks them.’
Gazza glanced over. ‘Glue the bastards,’ he said succinctly. ‘Then draw the stitching on with a fine pen afterwards.’
‘Brilliant!’ exclaimed Jessica. ‘That must be damned good coffee, Gaz. I’m gonna get me some of that. Do you want one Howard?’
‘Sure, if you’re going – thank you. Better pull the side doors closed after you so we don’t disturb the thespians. They’ll be getting started any minute.’
She heaved the thick double doors across, cutting the workshop off from the stage area. She would come back through the Green Room by taking yet another quirky set of stairs into the other end of the workshop.
Entering the kitchen, she saw that Simone had buttonholed Adam and was waving her script with some agitation.
‘I really feel that the line is open to misinterpretation!’ she insisted. ‘Look here, where Jefferson says “I was afraid that the trip here might knock you up completely.” I’m certain that the audience will laugh at the very suggestion of my being “knocked up”. Don’t you agree?’
Adam looked over and caught Jessica’s eye which almost proved his undoing. He struggled for a moment to keep a straight face, covering it by coughing into his elbow.
‘Ahem. Excuse me, Simone. Yes, I do see what you mean. It’s one of those linguistic changes that we have to watch out for in these older scripts. Well spotted! I’ll have him change the line to “knock you out completely”. How does that sound?’
‘Very much better,’ said Simone gratefully. ‘Thank you, Adam. I knew I could rely on you.’
She sailed off towards the stage, allowing Jessica and Adam to break into broad grins.
‘We certainly don’t want Simone to get knocked up, do we?’ giggled Jessica.
‘I can promise you I’m definitely not volunteering to do it!’ Adam shook his head. ‘They never cease to surprise me, these actors. Once they have a role, they’re the centre of the universe. Well, I’d better go and make sure Simone doesn’t get knocked up in Act two Scene one.’
He sketched a wave and disappeared through the stage door.
Jessica made two mugs of coffee and headed back towards the workshop. At the top of the stairs she paused, hearing Nick’s voice in the workshop below. She didn’t want to run into him so she sat down out of sight on the top step hoping he’d go away soon.
Howard was giving him a hard time about his liaison with Tamara. ‘You’re stuck with her now, son. Little Miss Limpet-lips won’t let you go till she’s sucked you inside out.’
‘Don’t see a problem with that, myself,’ put in Gazza.
She heard Nick laugh self-consciously. ‘She is a bit of a handful. She wants me to take her to the Moonlight Club tonight, but I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. If I ran into any of my clients it might be a bit embarrassing.’
‘Gee, Nick, haven’t your clients seen you naked in a sauna before? You could give them a flogging with birch twigs and score yourself a whole new contract,’ Howard suggested.
‘Hey, get Tamara to flog them, and you could name your own price, mate,’ Gazza offered.
Then Howard called out, ‘Hey Jessica, where’s that coffee? Did you go to Brazil to pick the beans?’
She stood up quietly, took a few steps back, then came forward loudly down the stairs into the workshop. She handed over one of the mugs.
‘Here you are, Howard, no need to shout. Hi Nick.’
He acknowledged her awkwardly.
She looked at the three of them, standing there, looking as guilty as kids who’ve drawn on the walls.
‘Well, it’s Saturday night, boys,’ she said innocently. ‘What are you all doing tonight? Nick?’
He looked startled. ‘Me? Nothing, why?’
‘Nothing on a Saturday night? That doesn’t sound like you, Nick. Isn’t the lovely Tamara going to take you out for a nice healthy evening of folk music and fat-free milkshakes?’
He shook his head. Then did a double-take. ‘You were listening!’
‘To you lot talking through your testes, yes.’
‘Ooh,’ said Howard in a high voice. ‘Who’s testy now, dear?’
Nick edged towards the stairs, a pink flush slowly fading from his cheeks. ‘I’ll see you around, guys. Goodbye Jessica.’
She couldn’t quite read the expression on his face.
‘Jeez you’re a tough woman, Jessica,’ said Gazza when Nick had left. ‘What are you giving him a hard time for?’
‘I don’t know, really. To see his reaction, I guess. Something seems off with the way he picked up Tamara so fast, and I’m trying to get a feel for what he’s thinking.’
‘And are you any the wiser?’ asked Howard.
‘Nah. Not in the slightest. What do you think, Gaz?’
‘Duh, me man. Me not think with brain. Have woman good, not have woman bad. End of story.’
‘Yeah, fair enough.’ She stretched her arms wide and eased her neck from side to side. ‘Man, I’m looking forward to a couple of days off. So glad Adam will be away tomorrow and we can have the whole day free with no rehearsal. Oh, we’re OK with construction, aren’t we Howard? We don’t need to fit in a catch-up day, do we? Please say no, please say no!’
‘No. So long as we get this tent thing at least half done today. Let’s start cutting it out, shall we?’
They laid out the fabric on the workshop floor, in pencil they drew the outlines according to the plan, and cut the shapes. An hour later they had assembled the pieces using glue and staples, and Jessica had cut out the scalloped edge for the awning. Two hours later and the whole thing was standing on sturdy poles looking ready for an Arab prince.
‘Brilliant!’ said Jessica. ‘Thank God for that. Now let’s get the hell out of here and have a life, shall we?’
After making sure there was nobody left backstage, they walked in single file across the empty stage, their footsteps loud in the dark and otherwise silent auditorium. Gazza was last one out, flicking off the lights at the mains panel and turning the self-locking lock on the inside of the door. He pulled the door shut.
‘See you on Tuesday, then.’
‘Yep, have a good day off tomorrow.’
‘See you, bye.’