Chapter Eleven
Eleven
Upon further inspection, the mess in the theater wasn’t as bad as she remembered. But the sheer dilapidation of the place meant that they could litter-pick for a year and it would still look like the opening scene for a zombie apocalypse movie. Stale cigarette smoke and dust hung in the air, mixed with the earthy scent of damp chair fabric and dirty carpets, and with no windows in this part of the building and the ventilation system out of action, there was little chance of things improving soon. The enduring chill that clung to the old bones of the auditorium kept it from feeling claustrophobic, but it felt like a place outside the normal rules of time.
Harriet hoped the act of cleaning would keep her warm and was glad she’d fitted a jumper beneath her cardigans.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home and change?” she asked.
James was using a litter-grabber to gingerly maneuver a takeaway coffee cup into a black sack hung on the back of a music stand. He stood out even more than usual in the shabby surroundings.
“It’s fine. This suit was due to be dry-cleaned anyway.”
Harriet pulled a face.
“I saw that,” he said. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
James continued to look at her. Waiting.
“It’s just. I’m trying to imagine what you look like when you’re not dressed in formal attire. I can’t imagine you not in a suit.”
He speared her with a look.
“You’ve seen me at my most informal, Ms. Smith.”
She instantly flushed, remembering his taut body hovering above hers, the heat of his skin as their naked bodies crushed together, moving in the rhythm of lovers, her hips pushing up to meet his. Get a grip ! she told herself, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. His mouth twitched into a smile.
“I—” Her voice came out as a strangled croak, and she cleared her throat. “I meant, I can’t imagine you slopping around in a tracksuit.” Is there a heater on in here? She shrugged off one of her cardis.
“You see me more as a smoking-jacket-and-silk-pajama-bottoms sort?”
She burst out a laugh. “I didn’t, but now I have a very clear image of what that would look like.”
“And?”
“I think you could probably pull it off.”
He shook his head, smiling, and went back to filling his black sack while she concentrated on clearing the dress circle of sweet wrappers and other detritus, screwing her face up in disgust at the number of used condoms she had the misfortune to find. At least they’re practicing safe sex?
She considered what James had said in her flat. Had she met men who claimed they wanted to do better? Not often, she concluded. Plenty felt that they deserved points for being up-front about the fact that they were only interested in sex. Many assumed that simply professing themselves to be feminists would get them laid, and ninety percent of those thought that feminism was something to do with burning bras and taking their jobs.
Did James’s quest for betterment mean that he was genuinely looking for something deeper? Or did it simply mean he intended to be more courteous after one-night stands—breakfast and a handshake before parting? Had he really been hoping that their night together might lead to more? She sneaked a glance his way.
He was classically tall, dark, and handsome, albeit in a buttoned-up sort of way. Yes, he walked around like he had a rod up his bottom and he was quick to judge, but equally, she noticed, quick to apologize and learn from his mistakes, and that was an attractive personality trait. However, he was essentially acting as her parole officer, and this was a strike against him. As was the mysterious Lyra, who could be significant or a family member or friend. The odds are even thus far; I guess we’ll just have to wait and see , she thought.
Half an hour later, a maintenance team composed of at least forty people wearing boilersuits in blues and dark green arrived and immediately took up stations all over the building to begin the task of reinforcing, replacing, securing, and the general fixing of the countless things that creaked ominously in the dilapidated theater.
Harriet finished up another work call and turned to James.
“It’s a bit late for them to be starting a job, isn’t it?” she asked.
“You can talk—you don’t seem to finish work at all.”
He looked pointedly at her phone, which had managed to interrupt every conversation they’d had at least once since they’d arrived. She bristled.
“I have a demanding job.”
“Indeed, you do.” The heavy quiet of the theater had been replaced with the hammer and whirr of tools. “With so much work needing to be done in such a short time, Evaline gave me the go-ahead to instruct an around-the-clock maintenance team.” He speared an orange peel in the orchestra pit and added, “It’s for insurance as well as for the renovations. She doesn’t want to be sued when a student falls through rotten floorboards or gets squashed by a sandbag because the ropes on the rigging system have perished.”
“She’s all heart.”
“It’s an expensive window-dressing exercise, but Evaline is hopeful that showing the theater in its best light will encourage the right kind of buyer.”
“Does she care who buys it? Does it matter?”
James considered. “I had always thought not. Her relationship with this building is complicated, and I had thought she’d be glad to be shot of it. But when we received a generous offer for the land from a company that wanted to raze the theater to the ground, she turned them down, even though it was the best offer we’d had on the table in years.” He stood and looked around the empty stalls as though suddenly remembering where he was. “Forgive me, I’ve said too much. I’m not usually so free with my clients’ personal matters. Please, can we strike all that from the record?”
“As you wish, Mr. Knight. Sustained!” She’d known that binge-watching The Good Wife would come in handy one day.
James turned away, smiling. She heard his low chuckle as he moved along the stalls. She liked making him laugh.
“Why is she really making me clean the place up when she’s obviously got professionals on the payroll? Does she honestly believe her own rhetoric?”
“Evaline is a powerful woman, and she maintains that power by ensuring that no one is in any doubt about who is in charge.”
“So essentially this is me being in detention.”
“Correct.”
“How come you got put into detention with me?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”
“And why sell now? It’s been closed for almost half a century—why the sudden rush?”
James paused and leaned back against one of the seats.
“Shouldn’t your students be helping with this?” He waved an empty share bag of crisps like a flag.
He was evading her question. She could push, but it would be unfair if his silence was due to client confidentiality.
“They will.” I hope.
“If they show up at all.”
“They will.” They’d better!
“Your faith in them is rather endearing. Especially after they scarpered and left you to take the blame.”
“That isn’t how it happened.” Harriet would have expanded but for the shouts erupting from the foyer.
She and James hurried out to see what was happening.
“Miss! They won’t let us in!” Carly was brandishing a mop at two burly maintenance men.
Harriet aimed a self-satisfied grin at James before stepping forward.
“It’s okay, they’re with me,” she said, unable to squash the pride exploding in her heart as she saw that all five of them were there.
“Told you,” Billy grumbled at the men. He was holding a can of Mr. Sheen at his side, a yellow duster poking out of his pocket.
“It’s discrimination.” Ricco puffed out his chest.
Harriet flapped her hands to shush them. “They’re just doing their job,” she reasoned, pushing Carly’s mop down into a more passive position. “You don’t exactly look like a traditional cleaning crew.”
Leo—who had blue hair today—looked down at his oversized hoodie and acrylic-paint-splattered work boots and shrugged. Isabel—in a short bomber jacket and boyfriend jeans—jutted one hip out and rested her hand on it, drawling, “So judgmental!”
“I can vouch for them,” said Harriet. But the men only eyed her dubiously.
James stepped forward just as a wall of a man in a yellow high-viz jacket joined them.
“Mr. Knight,” the foreman exclaimed. “Surprised to see you here.” He was a broad, balding man in his early sixties, with deep laughter creases around his eyes and the booming voice of a no-nonsense Yorkshireman used to being heard and obeyed. Harriet liked him instantly.
“Not as surprised as I am to be here, I can assure you,” he replied. “Good to see you, Ken. These people are with me,” he said, gesturing uncertainly to the students. “They are helping with the cleanup. And this is Harriet Smith.” He turned to her and smiled politely. “She is the students’ teacher and responsible adult, and they are her charges. Harriet, this is Ken—Ken is the site manager and general head honcho around these parts.”
Ken nodded and shook her hand.
“Community service thing, is it?” he asked, giving a side nod to the famous five.
“Something like that,” Harriet smiled. “We’ll be putting on a Christmas production for the town, one last hurrah for the theater before it becomes, well, whatever it becomes.” She tried to make it sound as though she was in control of the situation. If she said it with enough conviction, maybe she’d believe it herself.
“Will you now? Well, I wish you luck with it, I genuinely do. This old building deserves it before it’s overrun with fat cats.”
“Right, well, lovely to meet you, Ken, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other these next few weeks.” She gave him a grimace, and he laughed. “We’d better make a start.”
“Fair enough. In you go. But stay off the stage until we’ve made sure it’s all secure. I don’t want any accidents on my watch,” Ken warned, wagging a finger at the students.
“On that point we are in agreement,” said James, holding out his hand for the man to shake. “We’ll be keeping a close eye on them, don’t you worry.”
Ken and his colleagues disappeared through the double doors to the old cocktail lounges, and Harriet turned to her students.
“Thanks for coming, guys.”
“Did we have a choice?” asked Billy.
“No, you didn’t.” She smiled. “This is Mr. Knight; he’ll be helping us with our endeavors.”
James became rictus stiff. The students trained their eyes on him, waiting, daring. Don’t show fear , she wanted to urge him. Any sign of weakness and they’ll eat you alive!
Finally. Stiltedly. He stepped forward as though addressing a jury. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Please call me James. Ms. Smith speaks very highly of you. I am here to help in any way I can to make this venture a success.”
Oh dear!
The students were staring at him with a mixture of disdain, distrust, and scorn. They said nothing but managed to make their nothing sound more aggressive than words ever could.
“Okay, then!” Harriet declared. Using her arms in the way one might guide a flock of chickens to their henhouse, she ushered the students up the main stairs, which brought them out onto the balcony overlooking the theater below. She glanced back at James bringing up the rear and gave him a sympathetic smile.
“What are you planning to mop, Carly?” asked Ricco, sniggering as Carly—dressed in a camouflage boilersuit and Doc Martens—twirled the mop like a baton.
“I don’t know yet, do I?” she retorted. “It’s called being prepared. What did you bring?”
Ricco pulled a Dustbuster out of his rucksack and gave her a smug smile.
“The battery will run down before you’ve done a flight of stairs,” said Billy glibly.
“And what are you going to do, Billy? Polish the stage?” Ricco retorted in a derisory tone.
“Tess said there’d be a lot of wood.” Billy was defensive. “She said it would freshen the place up.”
Tess and Arthur were Billy and Sid’s foster parents. They were good people—they’d certainly had a calming effect on Billy—but they were well past retirement age and Harriet worried about what that might mean for the boys down the line.
“Tess is right,” Harriet intervened. “This place definitely needs a freshen-up. Everything you’ve brought will be useful. There’s a lot to do, and it’s going to take a joint effort. And no, Ricco, by ‘a joint effort,’ I do not mean that we ought to smoke joints.”
Ricco smirked. “It would make the time pass quicker, miss.”
“The only highs will be elevated heart rates and soaring community spirits.”
Isabel—who took a Cleopatra approach to eye makeup—snickered. “I love you, miss, but you are well square. Are you sure you’re not Amish?”
“Not in those jeans,” said Ricco, chewing his cheek.
“What’s wrong with my jeans?” Harriet asked.
“Nothing’s wrong with them, per se,” answered Ricco. “But they are way too tight to be Amish.”
Harriet found herself smoothing her hands down over her bottom and thighs self-consciously. Isabel saw and said, “Not tight in a bad way, miss. They look good on you. Bums are in.”
Leo made agreeing noises. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James’s mouth twitch with a smile.
“Right. Thank you, Isabel.” Harriet straightened her back; she needed to remove her bottom from the topic of conversation.
“I’ve never seen you in jeans, miss. You look kind of hot. Don’t you think so, James?” asked Carly.
James’s smile faltered and his cheeks darkened.
“Yes,” he agreed stiffly. “Very nice. Practical.”
Harriet held her hands up. “Let’s leave the subject of my jeans behind, shall we?”
“It’s your behind that started it,” Isabel quipped. This earned her high fives all round.
“Thank you all!” Harriet used her “final” voice and the students quieted and waited for her to continue. “Now, we need to take a methodical approach to this cleanup. So we’ll start at the top of the theater by the exits; each person picks a section of seating and works their way along and down each row until they reach the orchestra pit.” She handed each of them a black sack and a litter-grabber and pointed them toward the stairs.
“I’ve got to pick Sid up from football club today,” said Billy, “but I’ll come straight back after. Sid can help, he loves a bit of litter-picking—they do it at school all the time.”
“Of course, that’s fine, Billy; Sid is most welcome. Why’re you picking him up and not Tess or Arthur?”
Billy shrugged. “I just thought it’d make a nice change for Sid.”
Harriet nodded, but her internal antenna pinged an alert.
“This is going to take forever!” Ricco complained, as he leaned over the balcony surveying the stalls below.
“Not forever, Ricco, and please don’t lean too hard on the balcony until we know it’s safe. The quicker you snap to it, the quicker we’ll get it done.”
“Ugh! Yes, Mum!” he groaned, starting down the stairs with the others following suit.
“Sorry about that,” she said when she and James were left standing on the balcony. “They’re high spirited.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve not had much to do with teenagers, not since I was one myself, and I seem to remember being rather awkward and unpleasant most of the time.”
Harriet laughed. “I think most of us were unpleasant teenagers, if we’re honest with ourselves.”
“They like you.” James peered over the balcony at the scattering students below as they took their positions.
“They’re used to me, that’s all. They’re good kids.” She smiled as she listened to their bantering shouts below.
“You say that a lot.”
“Do I?” She gave a self-conscious half laugh. “I suppose I’m used to having to defend them. God knows somebody needs to.” Zoe’s face swam into her mind.
She felt James watching her and plastered a smile on her face. He studied her for another long moment.
“That’s why I went into law. Originally,” he said. “To help people. Somewhere along the way, I appear to have stopped using my powers of persuasion to defend the defenseless and instead protect the interests of people who already have too much.” His own thoughts seemed to drift then as he stared into the black mouth of the empty stage below, and she wondered where they took him.
“Is your career one of the areas in which you are striving to do better?” Harriet ventured tentatively.
He continued to look down when he answered. “Yes, I think it is. I was—” He hesitated. “I was moved by what you said in Evaline’s car, about wanting to create a space that would benefit the community. The idea got me thinking in a way I haven’t for a long time. I suppose this is all my fault, really.” He gestured around the auditorium. “I rather got us into this mess. Perhaps this is what a midlife crisis looks like.”
“Isn’t that supposed to involve buying a fast motorbike and dating women half your age?”
He smiled. “That’s what it says in my middle-aged-man handbook, yes.”
“Have you ticked either of those things off your list yet?”
“I’ve never been much into fast vehicles. I don’t like to feel out of control.” He left a beat before continuing. “And I find I’m rather more attracted to women who have lived a little, preferably ones who consume mulled wine like it’s about to be rationed.”
Now it was Harriet’s turn to flush as she tried desperately not to smile. The blood in her veins seemed to pick up speed, and she felt suddenly very alive.
“And for the record,” he added, tearing off a fresh black sack from the roll Harriet had been handing around, “you do look hot in those jeans.”
He left the words hanging in the air and took the stairs briskly down into the theater. Harriet shrank into the shadows and leaned her back against the wall, trying to control her breathing. What the heck-fire was happening to her? It was like being fifteen again. She bit her knuckles to stop herself from squealing and then bent over and jogged fast on the spot for a full ten seconds, pumping her arms at the same time to try and expel some of her excitement.
“Everything all right, miss?” Billy looked alarmed and confused. “I just came up to get more bin bags.”
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine. I was just warming up. You should always warm up your muscles before you start a workout.” She did a couple of clumsy lunges to illustrate.
“Right.”
Billy tore a bin bag off the strip and left without another word. She rolled her eyes at herself.
Downstairs she heard Ken’s beefy laughter mixed with James’s more conservative expression of merriment. Though he was out of sight, she knew exactly what James would look like in that moment. His deep-set eyes would twinkle as though a lamp had been switched on behind them, high cheekbones pushing them almost to slits, lines fanning at the corners like sunbeams. When he smiled, the deep lines that ran from either side of his nose to the corners of his mouth were accentuated, lending him a mischievous appearance that was very much on the right side of sexy. Against her better judgment, she found herself wanting to memorize all of James’s expressions.