by Bev Robitai
She hung up.
Ginevra? The waiflike teenage daughter? Jessica smacked her forehead. Houston, we have a problem.
Briefly tempted to let Simone hear the bad news from Adam when she turned up to read the part, Jessica reluctantly shouldered her responsibilities and picked up the phone.
Chapter 2
11 Weeks from Opening Night
Jessica was pleased to see that almost everybody had turned up on time for the first production meeting. Once the social chitchat in the Green Room was over and everyone had coffees in their hands, she herded them through into the Rose Room.
‘Hi everyone. Thanks for being so punctual. Who are we still waiting for? Nick? We’ll leave promotions till last then and hope he shows up soon. Right, Heads of Departments – who wants to go first? Clara-Jane? What sort of budget do you think wardrobe will need?’
‘It shouldn’t be too bad.’ Clara-Jane tucked long hair behind her ear and consulted her notes. ‘We’ve got quite a bit of Arab stuff in the theatre wardrobe already, and I’m pretty sure the Musical Society will have a few good 1930s outfits we can borrow. As long as they’ll do them as reciprocals, I think my budget will only be about seven hundred.’
‘Excellent! We’re going to need all the extra cash we can get. What about you, Gert? How does the props list look?’
White-haired Gert fumbled for her reading glasses.
‘Just a minute, dear. Almost ready – there!’ She looked up and beamed. ‘Lots and lots of suitcases. We’ll be able to use those lovely travelling baskets that are in the upstairs props cage, too. I’ve wanted to use them for years. There’s nothing we have to make, so my budget’s low. Perhaps just six hundred, to get a few odds and ends and some nice old chairs and tables for the hotel if I can’t borrow them from anywhere. All right, dear?’
‘Thanks, Gert. Have you got enough helpers to collect what you need, and to run props during the show?’
‘Yes thank you, Jessica. There are some quite bright youngsters I’ve worked with before and they’re very keen to help.’
The door banged open and Nick Usher breezed in on a waft of expensive aftershave. He sketched a bow to the rest of the production team before kneeling at Jessica’s feet.
‘My humblest apologies, Jessica, for being so unforgivably late.’ He sprang to his feet and turned around, presenting the seat of his jeans. ‘I’m ready to take my punishment like a man.’
‘I think we’ll take that as read,’ said Jessica drily. ‘Nick – Sit!’
He subsided into one of the battered armchairs and grinned at her.
‘Right, where were we before Mr Usher decided to grace us with his presence? Ah yes – set construction. Switch hats from President to construction manager, Howard, and tell us what you need.’
Light from the Rose Room chandelier gleamed on the silver streaks in Howard’s hair as he leaned forward to speak.
‘Bit hard to say at this point. Adam’s asked some arty student to design the set and he hasn’t shown me any plans or sketches yet, so I don’t know exactly what we’re going to need. There’s a hotel interior that’s got a bit of construction work in it though, to make a reception counter and an elevator.’
‘A working elevator? Bloody hell, that’ll be a trick. How many people do we have to lift in it? And how am I going to light it?’ Gazza the lighting guy was looking worried.
‘Don’t panic, Gazza, it doesn’t have to move. We just need some sliding doors and a little pointer thingy that someone can operate from behind the set. No problem.’
‘Just as bloody well. I can imagine the fun Health & Safety would have if we tried to lift a bunch of thespians up into the fly tower.’ Gazza wasn’t one to let go of an idea easily.
‘Anyway,’ Howard continued, ‘there are probably some bits and pieces in store below stage that we can use for the counter and fittings. The hard part’s going to be the desert background. Lots of rocks and cliffs. Adam said he wanted some kind of canvas tent thing as well, and we’ll probably have to make that from scratch. Can we put TBA on my budget figure?’
‘OK, construction budget to be advised,’ said Jessica, making sure it was noted in the minutes.
‘Right, Nick. Your big moment. What’s the promotion plan and how much will you need?’
‘Oh, give us half a mill and we’ll say no more about it.’ He grinned winningly. ‘No? Oh well, worth a try. I’ve been talking to my boss at the radio station and he’s happy to give us a fifty percent discount on ads if we display station signage everywhere we promote. Does that sound good?’
There was a chorus of approving comments. Nick looked pleased.
‘Well done, Nick!’ said Jessica. ‘I hoped you were more than just a pretty face.’
He clasped his chest as if shot. ‘Ooh, you wound me. Anyway, I figure about seven hundred will take care of radio – they’ll do promo slots among the regular programming as well, and do an interview the week before we open. Newspaper’s not quite so helpful I’m afraid. No discounts, usual rates, and their display ads have just gone up by 10 percent. It’ll probably cost us about eighteen hundred for a decent spread of ads through to final night. On the plus side, the Arts page will do a piece on Adam when he gets here, and we can probably dream up some other aspect for them to feature as we get nearer opening.’
‘That’s good, Nick. I’ll hit up my old boss at The Outdoor Company – he still feels guilty for making me redundant last April. Besides, since there’s a tent in the show it’ll be a good tie-in for him. Can anyone else suggest places that might sponsor some ads?’ Jessica looked round the room. ‘Howard, you’ll run the usual ad for your shop in the programme, won’t you – assuming your dear lady accountant lets you?’ She winked at him. Howard’s wife kept a tight rein on their finances, with good reason. ‘Everyone else, have a think about who you can ask for sponsorship will you? It doesn’t have to be much and the company can put their logo on all the ads they help pay for.’
‘I thought this was supposed to be a big budget show,’ said Gazza. ‘Doesn’t sound very well-financed to me. How am I supposed to light a show if there’s no money to hire the gear?’
‘Come on Gazza,’ said Howard. ‘We’ve got plenty of lights, and the Musical Society will lend us a few more. Do we need any specials? A show like this shouldn’t need anything too high-tech. I don’t suppose the London theatre had Robo-scans in 1945 when this was first staged.’
‘All right, two grand for lighting then, but don’t expect bloody miracles.’ Gazza tipped his battered leather cap over his eyes and slumped lower in his armchair.
‘Fair enough,’ said Jessica briskly. ‘Thanks, Gazza. Have you got people to help rig when you need them?’
‘If you all keep October 22nd free, yes. Assuming the set’s ready by then.’ He sat up and eyed Howard with what passed as a grin on his weathered face.
‘Oh it’ll be ready mate. Where do you think you’ll be spending your weekends from now till November 5th!’
‘Remind me - why do we do this again?’
‘For the love of the the-ayter, dahling!’ said Clara-Jane, swirling her floral print skirt. ‘How else will we bring culture to this town of Philistines?’
‘Saves getting a life, I suppose. Somewhere to spend our leisure hours, cooped up in a dark building that’s falling down round our ears, never seeing the sunlight and living on junk food for weeks on end.’
‘So, nothing new there, then,’ said Jessica. ‘Our happy band of stage crew is back in the theatre again.’ She grinned. ‘I can hardly wait.’
On the night of the first read-through a trio of newcomers, clutching their scripts, hovered nervously at the Green Room door. Jessica watched with some amusement as Gerald the Treasurer pounced on them. Despite his slight frame and mousy colouring, he was a force to be reckoned with when it came to financial matters.
‘Welcome to the Regent Theatre. You’ve been cast in the show? Very good. Here are some forms to fill in so you can join the
Society. Students, are you? There’s the student rate, just tick that box and make out a cheque the way it says underneath. Or cash is fine if you’ve got it with you.’
‘But look, I don’t want to join anything – I’m just in the show.’ The dark-haired boy looked mildly resentful.
‘Compulsory, I’m afraid. Can’t go on stage unless you’re a member. Just fill out the details and give it back to me before the read-through, all right?’
Gerald spotted another victim and moved away, preparing a form and a pen.
Jessica crossed over to them.
‘Hi guys, nice to have you with us. When you’re done with the forms, could you give me a hand to put out some of those chairs please?’ She pointed to stacks of shabby grey vinyl chairs leaning against the wall. ‘We’ll need about twenty three, in a circle round the room. Thanks.’
She left them usefully employed and looked around for any more new faces.
Phil and Pippa Jessop had arrived and were chatting to Clara-Jane, looking slightly happier than they had at auditions. Young Stewart was making himself a coffee and still seemed a little nervous. Three or four regular actors had turned up again and were catching up with their news since the last show they’d been in together.
There was a thunderous hammering on the back door. Stewart gasped and spilt his coffee. Being nearest to the door, he pushed the security buttons and opened it warily.
‘Oh do get out of the way!’ boomed Simone. ‘Why didn’t this door open? We always come in this way. If the damn thing is sticking then somebody should fix it.’
Jessica moved quickly to rescue the tongue-tied blushing Stewart, explaining to the formidable Mrs Duchaine that a security lock had been added to the back door after an attempted break-in, and that now all personnel had to come and go through the stage door at the front of the building.
‘Utterly ridiculous! Never had a problem with burglars before. Don’t know what this town is coming to.’ The crowd parted before her as she steamed in through the door.
Just then Nick and Tamara arrived. She was hanging onto his arm and laughing up at him, but when he saw Jessica waving him over he gently detached her grip and excused himself.
‘Hello, Jessica. What’s up?’
‘Hi Nick, you remember Simone Duchaine, don’t you? She was brilliant in Hay Fever, and is playing Ada Boynton for us. Simone, this is Nick Usher, our top PR and promotions man. I’m sure he’d be happy to get you some coffee and look after you.’
Mollified by the prompt attention, Simone allowed herself to be seated in the only intact chair in the room. Jessica avoided meeting Nick’s eye, certain he’d be signalling that she owed him big time.
Howard and Gazza came in together and Jessica could see that Gazza wasn’t happy about something. She caught their conversation as they walked past her to the Rose Room.
‘I don’t see why we have to be here – we’re stage crew. We’re going to be sitting through the whole damn show umpteen dozen times as it is.’
‘It was Adam’s idea to let us get the flavour of the play so we can design everything to suit, Gazza. But maybe we can escape quietly if it gets too boring.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Exit Gazza, grumbling.
‘Jessica! Looking lovely as always.’ Nick had escaped briefly from his schmoozing duties with Simone.
She looked down at her faded jeans and sweatshirt.
‘What, these old things? Leave the clever lines to the actors, Nick. But thanks for your help with Simone, anyway. Did you see Adam on your way in?’
‘He’ll be along in another ten minutes or so. He wanted to allow time for all the admin stuff first, like Gerald doing his thing with membership forms and Clara-Jane getting everyone measured up for wardrobe.’
True to form, Adam made his entrance once the crowd had quietened down and taken their seats.
‘Good afternoon, everyone. Thanks for coming, particularly the stage crew who don’t normally get to sit in on read-throughs. I wanted you to get a feel for the atmosphere that we want to create as it’s a key element of the drama. Gazza, your lighting is going to be very important to set the mood.’
Gazza straightened up and looked more attentive, pushing his ancient cap to the back of his head, pleased someone recognised his importance to the show.
Adam continued. ‘Performers, this is your chance to hear the whole play since there will always be parts you miss when you’re backstage. Simone, I’m particularly grateful that you’ll be giving us the benefit of your abilities. Only an actor with your range and experience would be able to handle the difficult character of Ada Boynton and make her come alive.’
Simone positively glowed.
‘And you younger ones will learn a lot from the more experienced cast members who will, I’m sure, do their best to be good role models for you.’
There was a general murmur of assent.
Jessica was impressed once more by the way Adam seemed to speak to the heart of everyone in the room. He had a charisma that inspired people to do things even better than they thought they could. Secretly, she wished that she had some hidden performance talent that might somehow be spotted. Then maybe she too could join the select group of performers who got all the attention. Smiling at her own daft idea, she sat back to hear the play being read.
Adam ran through the cast list to explain who was playing which role. When he named Tamara Fitzpatrick as playing Nadine Boynton, there was a sharp intake of breath from both the Jessops. Pippa was quickly expressionless, but Phil looked worried.
Jessica checked the casting notes and realised that Phil was playing Nadine’s husband. It would have been uncomfortable for any teacher and student, but with sultry young Tamara as part of the equation, Phil, her school teacher, might well have his hands full.
The play began, and Jessica was drawn into the dated but still chilling tale of a family ruled by their sadistic and manipulative stepmother. By the time the last line was spoken, the entire room was quiet and thoughtful. Even Howard and Gazza had been won over.
‘Excellent. Thank you, everyone,’ said Adam. He looked at each person around the circle. ‘I think you’ve all got a sense of the power that this play can have when it’s performed to its full potential. I know some of the humour is a bit contrived, but it’s a foil to that sense of menacing evil that Agatha Christie does so well. Go home and study your scripts and I’ll see you at the first rehearsal next Sunday.’
Jessica saw Howard open his mouth and quickly forestalled his question.
‘The rehearsal will be up in the Rose Room, won’t it Adam? So that construction can get started on the stage?’
‘Yes, 2pm Sunday in the Rose Room. Thanks everybody.’
‘Thanks, Adam’
‘That was great!’
Excited actors left the room, chattering like sparrows. Jessica saw Gazza’s lips form the words “bloody thespians” as he and Howard watched them depart.
The day after the read-through Jessica arrived at the theatre full of enthusiasm. She unlocked the maroon-painted stage door and checked for mail. Inhaling the familiar scent of old wood, rope, dust and perfume, she bounded up the creaky stairs to her office two at a time. Today was going to be busy, getting the theatre ready for a touring show due to perform that night and the following day. Thankfully they didn’t need much in the way of staging, but the place always needed to be in tip-top order for any production company that rented it.
She started her usual walk through the building to check the most important areas.
The foyer was tidy, smelling faintly of stale alcohol but more strongly of lemon wax polish now that the cleaner had been through. Even the classic red patterned carpet looked brighter than usual. Jessica straightened a picture and looked into the box office. Booking supplies and torches for the visiting touring company were at the ready, and several colours of roll tickets nestled neatly in the drawer. She knew Gerald would take care of the cash box, turning up with it on time and filled with the appro
priate denominations of notes and coins. There were times when his irritatingly anal attention to detail was definitely an asset.
Both sets of patrons’ toilets were as good as they were going to get. Clean and well-supplied with toilet paper, but cramped and old with ugly pipes running across walls and ceilings. Perhaps one day there’d be money to do a proper refurbishment.
Jessica padded along the rest of the OP corridor towards the stage and opened the heavily-carpeted door that muffled offstage noise. She paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim light in the wings, not wanting to trip on the three black-painted steps leading up to the stage. She carried on along the side of the stage, through another thickly-carpeted door into the backstage area, and into the main dressing room. Testing the lights, she saw two dead bulbs over the mirror and swiftly replaced them from a supply in the cupboard beneath.
The second dressing room was in good shape, except for a small lipstick kiss which she quickly wiped off the mirror with her sleeve.
Past the dressing rooms she walked through the make-up room and into the Green Room, where she stopped in surprise.
‘Oh, hello Gerald! Fancy seeing you here. Haven’t you got an office to go to?’
He looked up from the papers he was studying.
‘Hello Jessica. I just wanted to double-check some figures before work. Would you come and have a look at these please? As production manager you need to see the budget breakdown I’ve worked out.’
‘Hold on while I get a coffee. My brain needs artificial assistance to do maths at this hour of the day.’
She made herself a mug of instant and sat down beside him.
‘OK, fire away Gerald. What have you got?’
‘Well, working on the usual estimate of a nine-night run at half-houses, that gives us this figure for the gross box office takings.’ He pointed with his neatly sharpened yellow pencil. ‘Out of that, take the budgets we worked out for staging the show, along with the rights and Adam’s director’s fee, and if all goes well we’ll have a reasonable profit.’
