by Amy Cross
Crouching down, she began to sweep the mess away, even as she felt more and more as if she was being watched. She even glanced over her shoulder, just in case she might spot someone, but there really was no-one around.
Once she'd gathered the broken glass, she got to her feet and headed back toward the office. She tried to walk at a normal pace, but some deep sense of fear was driving her to hurry and she let out a sigh of relief as soon as she reached the office and tipped the glass into a bin. She took a moment longer to thoroughly clean the dustpan, and then – stepping back – she happened to glance at a long black and white photo hanging on the wall.
The photo showed a couple of dozen people standing outside the cinema, although – as she looked more closely – she realized that the picture had been taken a long time earlier, back when the building had been a music hall. She saw lots of old faces staring out from the image, and after a moment she spotted one that seemed familiar.
“Mr. Gough,” she murmured, and sure enough it was his – much younger – face that stared out from the picture. “Wow, you must have been barely twenty when this was taken.”
Smiling, she spotted a date scratched into the very corner of the picture.
“1921,” she whispered, realizing that the shot was almost fifty years old. “I guess most of the other people in this are...”
She let her voice trail off, even as she felt a shiver pass through her chest. Most of the people in the picture were surely dead, a thought that left her feeling more than a little discombobulated. She pondered the fact for a few more seconds, before heading back over to the desk and getting back to work with the documents. She'd already resolved to not mention the strange footsteps to Harry, although she knew she'd have to tell him about the broken photo.
As she focused on the papers, she paid no further attention to the picture on the wall, or to the dead faces that stared out from that long-lost day.
Chapter Seven
“This is remarkable,” Harry said as he sat at the desk and flicked through one of the folders. “Quite remarkable. Yes, I see how logical it is to have things arranged like this now. How wonderful.”
“It's nothing, really,” Susan replied. “I just copied some systems that I've seen before, and I've still got a lot of work to do before all your files are sorted.”
“You've done a magnificent job,” he told her. “Don't be modest.”
Smiling, she realized after a moment that she was starting to blush. The same thing always happened whenever anybody offered her praise. She watched as Harry continued to look at her work, and already she could think of scores of different things that she could improve around the place. Not wanting to seem pushy, however, she quickly reminded herself that she should keep quiet and maybe wait a little while before trying to make any further changes. Besides, she wasn't planning to work at the cinema for that long; as soon as she had enough money saved, she was going to get out of Crowford forever.
Suddenly, hearing a bump from out in the foyer, she turned and looked toward the open door. She waited, but now there was only silence.
“Mr. Gough,” she said cautiously, turning back to him, “is there anyone else who works here? Besides you and me, I mean...”
“Anyone else?”
He turned to another page in the folder, and then he glanced up at her. For a moment, he seemed somewhat confused by her question.
“Why, no,” he continued. “I keep the place ticking over, and I man the projection booth during screenings, and you... well, you'll be doing most of the rest, as I explained. The ticketing and the cleaning and so forth.”
“It's just that, while you were out at the bank earlier, I thought I heard...”
Her voice trailed off, and she was starting to feel as if she was over-complicating things.
“I just thought I heard someone, that's all,” she said with a faint, sheepish smile. “I was probably just imagining things.”
“I suppose you must have been.”
“And a picture fell off the wall. I gathered the pieces up and put the glass in the bin, and the picture's on the shelf. I was going to tell you earlier, but then we got into this and -”
“A picture?”
Getting to her feet, she headed to the bookshelf and grabbed the photo, before carrying it back over and setting in on the desk so that he could see.
“It must have just slipped, that's all,” she added.
“Hmm,” he replied, taking the picture for a moment and peering at it more closely.
“This is such a lovely old building,” she continued, hoping to make light of the situation. “It just has real history oozing from its pores. I know it used to be a dance hall or a music hall, something like that.” She paused, hoping to get him to talk about the old days. “Do you remember it before it was a cinema?”
“Do I remember it?”
He seemed lost in thought for a moment as he studied the photo, and it took a few more seconds before he looked at her again.
“Well, yes, I do,” he said. “I'm afraid I'm more than old enough to remember those days. It was old Mr. Grace, may he rest in peace, who bought the music hall from Mr. Archer back in... I'm not entirely sure when, but it must have been the 1930's. There was a fire, and...”
His voice trailed off for a few seconds.
“Well, anyway,” he continued, “Mr. Grace put a lot of money into doing the place up, there was quite a lot of razzmatazz on the opening night. Eric Grace had a lot of connections, and do you know who he managed to get to come and cut the ribbon when the cinema opened?”
“Who?” she asked.
“Only George Formby himself.”
“The George Formby?” she replied, unable to hide her sense of shock. “Here? In Crowford?”
“He was already quite the star by then,” Harry explained. “Of course, you're probably too young and hip to -”
“No, I love him,” she said, cutting him off. “Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you, it's just that... Wow, I just can't quite believe that George Formby was here in this little town.”
“Mr. Grace died in a motor vehicle accident about ten years ago,” Harry continued, “and since then his daughters have owned the building. We pay a small lease to them each year, and other than that we're left well enough alone. Of course, I have to move with the times, and I occasionally show popular films that I'd perhaps rather leave off the bill. We've got that new picture with Mr. Bogarde coming next week, apparently it's been drawing huge crowds over in Malmeston so I thought we should give it a try. A nice healthy box office week from that film should allow us to -”
Before he could finish, they both heard a distant scraping sound coming from far off in the cinema. They looked toward the open door, but the sound had already faded away.
“What was that?” Susan asked.
“I'm sure it was nothing,” Harry answered quickly.
“Should I go and take a look?” she continued, getting to her feet. “It might be a -”
“I said, it was nothing!” he snapped, before sighing. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be harsh.”
“Are you sure you don't want me to go and make sure?” she asked, still on her feet. “We don't open for a few more minutes, so there really shouldn't be anyone else here.”
She waited for him to agree with her.
“Should there?” she added.
“Please, Ms. Jones,” Harry said, sounding a little weary now, “sit down. Let's not go making a fuss about anything. There's no need.”
She opened her mouth to ask if he was sure, but then – knowing her place, and not wanting to create a fuss – she sat back down. She still couldn't help but wonder what had caused the strange noise, but she supposed that if Mr. Gough said everything was fine, then everything was fine. After a few seconds, however, she noticed that his attention seemed to have been caught by something on the wall, and when she followed his gaze she saw that he was looking at the long photo that she'd noticed earlier.
&nb
sp; “That's from when this place was a music hall, isn't it?” she said, looking at the long row of figures in the picture.
“It certainly is,” he replied, with a hint of sadness in his voice. “You wouldn't believe it now, but there was a time when Crowford hosted the most magnificent evenings. Between the wars, we'd dress up and have a marvelous time. Everyone dressed properly, none of this casual malarkey that you young things are so fussed about these days. Back then, a man knew how to make himself look smart, and a woman knew how to...”
His voice trailed off.
“Ignore me,” he said finally, shaking his head. “I'm just an old fuddy-duddy with one foot still in the past.”
“It sounds really nice,” Susan told him.
“There used to be a full orchestra on the stage,” he explained, “and everyone knew everyone, so there'd be lots of mixed dancing, and cocktails too. The music was exquisite. We managed to bring a touch of glamour to Crowford back in the day, something that one might say is sorely lacking at present. You'd miss your rock and roll, that's for sure.”
“Oh, I'm not really into all of that,” she added. “I like some of it, but for the most part I prefer older things. Older music, older books... I suppose I'm just a little bit old-fashioned, that's all. Not everyone wants to be a mod or a rocker.”
She paused.
“Actually,” she added, “my parents sometimes say that I'm an old soul trapped in a young body.”
“There's nothing wrong with that,” he told her, before checking his watch. “And now, if you'll excuse me, it's almost time to get things up and running. We often have a few waifs and strays filing in for the matinee shows, even if it's never as busy as our evening performances. This is your first day working at the Empire. Are you excited?”
“Very,” she said eagerly, getting to her feet again.
Harry stood slowly and stiffly, clearly struggling a little. He muttered something under his breath, and after a moment Susan stepped around the table and tried to support him.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “That's very kind of you, but I can manage. It's just that my hip plays up now and again, that's all. Another of the great benefits of getting old.” He glanced at the long photo again. “Still,” he added, “one mustn't grumble. Not everyone gets the chance, do they?”
Chapter Eight
“Enjoy the show,” Susan said as the man stepped away with his ticket, heading toward the corridor that led through to the auditorium.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves a little. She'd been very worried about dealing with members of the public, but so far she'd managed pretty well. Only two customers had shown up, and the matinee presentation was about to begin, so she figured that she'd been lucky to start off with a quiet shift. Part of her felt a little sad that the cinema wasn't attracting so many customers on a brisk and slightly chilly afternoon, but she supposed that most people would be at work.
Hearing laughter and footsteps, she turned to look at the front door, just as two figures stepped through.
“Susie!” Angie yelled excitedly, pulling away from her gentleman friend and rushing over to the booth. “Are you working here now?”
“Just started today,” Susan replied, somewhat startled, as she looked over and saw that Angie appeared to be on a date with Charlie Evans from the golf club.
“Well, how about that?” Angie said, before turning to Charlie. “Do you know my best friend in all the world, Susie Jones?”
“Charmed,” Charlie said with a faint nod.
“Last night was wild, huh?” Angie continued. “You got home okay, I take it?”
“Fine,” Susan replied.
“When did you pick this job up? You never told me about it!”
“It was... sudden,” Susan admitted, not really wanting to get into the details. In truth, she felt a little embarrassed as she thought back to the sounds Angie had been making on the golf course during the previous night. Looking down, she realized she was starting to blush. “Are you after two tickets, then?”
“Let me,” Charlie said, stepping over to the booth and pulling his wallet from his pocket.
“Charlie's taking me on a date,” Angie explained with a broad grin. “He's a real gentleman. He's even paying for everything!”
“Here,” Charlie continued, setting some money on the counter, “that should be enough. Keep the change.”
Still worried that she was blushing, Susan slid two tickets over to him.
“You were at the club last night, weren't you?” Charlie continued, eyeing her with a faint smile. “I never forget a face. Or any other part of the anatomy.”
“Charlie's such a joker,” Angie said, grabbing his arm and pulling him tight. “Shouldn't we get in there, though? The film's probably about to start.”
“Whatever it is,” Charlie added as he took the tickets. “Honestly, it doesn't matter. The film's not really what we're here for, anyway.”
***
Half an hour later, as voices from the film boomed in the distance, Susan made her way along the corridor that led to the auditorium. She'd finished cleaning, and all the other little jobs were done too, so all that was left was for her to check on the auditorium herself, to make sure that everything was going smoothly.
She hesitated for a moment at the doors, and then she carefully pulled one open and stepped through.
Up on the screen, in bright color, Peter Cushing was shouting at Roy Castle as they both tried to evade some kind of brightly-colored robot. Susan watched for a few seconds, and then she turned to look out across the audience. Almost immediately, she saw two figures sitting on the very back row, and even in the darkness of the room she could tell that Angie and Charlie were definitely not paying any attention to the film. They seemed to be canoodling, although Susan knew deep down that Angie was probably more than willing to go further.
In fact, as she watched them for a moment, Susan began to realize that Angie seemed to be leaning over onto Charlie, and a few seconds later she heard a brief, faint giggle.
Reaching down, Susan took hold of her flashlight and briefly considered intervening. The last thing she wanted was for Angie and Charlie to disturb the other customers, or for Harry to realize what was happening, but then she held back as she realized that she risked making a bigger scene. If Angie and Charlie could just be a little more discreet, then would it not be better to let them get on with things? After all, so far they seemed not to have caused any trouble.
Turning, she looked toward the front of the room. She saw a man sitting fairly close, evidently fully absorbed by the film as a woman and a little girl ran toward another robot. Then there was the other, thinner and taller man who'd bought a ticket; he was right near the front, staring up at the screen, his face bathed in the constantly-shifting light. Susan much preferred customers who actually paid attention to the film that they'd bought a ticket to see. That seemed, to her, to be the way the world should work. If Angie and Charlie didn't actually want to watch the film, then was it not reasonable for them to go elsewhere for their fun?
Realizing that she was in danger of seeming like a killjoy, Susan turned to head back out to the foyer, but at the last moment she spotted another figure sitting in the auditorium. She knew for a fact that she'd only sold four tickets – two to the single men, and two to Angie and Charlie – but now a fifth person was watching the film from a seat at the far end of the middle row. Susan watched the figure for a moment, convinced that the figure must simply be a trick of the light, but after a few seconds she realized that someone really did appear to be there.
Trying not to panic, she wondered how the mysterious fifth person could possibly have slipped past. She glanced up toward the projection booth and saw light streaming out through the little window, but she quickly told herself that there was no way Harry could know about the discrepancy. Still, she worried that he might have seen how many people were in the audience, and that he might later query th
e fact that money had only been taken for four tickets, and she wondered quite how she could explain her mistake. Counting the number of people entering the cinema seemed, after all, to be one of the more basic requirements of her new job.
At the same time, still not wanting to cause a fuss, she knew that she couldn't just march over and ask to see the person's ticket.
After trying to work out exactly what she should do, Susan finally decided to take a more circumspect approach. Since she couldn't really see the extra figure too well, she began to make her way down the steps that led toward the front of the auditorium. The two men were obviously enjoying the film, and Angie and Charlie were clearly oblivious to anything except one another, so she told herself that no-one would be disturbed if she simply headed around to the opposite side of the room for a moment. She passed under the screen, and then she stopped down by the fire exit and looked up to try to get a better view of the extra figure.
She could see the mens' faces clearly enough, bathed in the light from the film, and she could just about make out Angie and Charlie fumbling with one another in the back row. The fifth figure, however, remained somewhat shrouded in shadows, to the extent that Susan began to wonder whether she was there at all. She squinted slightly, hoping to get a better look, but this didn't help at all. All she could tell was that the figure seemed to be a woman. She still didn't want to actually go and cause a scene, however, so she finally decided to simply wait for the film to end and then speak to the woman as she left.
Having settled on that plan, she began to make her way back around to the other door, while keeping low and quiet in an effort to avoid drawing any further attention to herself.
