Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
Gideon had promised to be at the theater armed with the cast list by four thirty on Monday afternoon. The famous five and the Great Foss Players had gathered early accordingly and when he still hadn’t arrived by five o’clock, tensions began to fray.
“We can’t be expected to practice with only half a stage available,” Grace grumbled.
Leo flushed and bent lower over his backcloth, continuing to outline the Cratchits’ kitchen hearth in black paint while keeping stolidly silent.
“Where do you suggest he does them?” Billy challenged.
“I really don’t care where he does them so long as he’s not cluttering the stage,” she whipped back.
“Yeah, well, it’s not up to you, you’re only here because of us,” Billy snapped.
“Okay, okay, let’s not say things we may later regret,” Harriet interceded. “We have a whole theater in which to practice.”
“There is only dried milk in the dressing room,” complained Douglas. “It tastes bloody awful in tea.”
“Anyone who wants to donate a drinks fridge to the cause is welcome to,” said Harriet.
Geez, they’re worse than the kids! She could feel her own tension rising.
“Why can’t you just tell us who got which parts?” Isabel asked. “You were involved with the decisions.”
“I was, but Gideon was very clear that the revealing of the cast list is a rite of passage for actors, and he wanted to be the one to do it. I don’t want to steal his thunder or mess with any theatrical traditions that might bring bad luck to the production.”
“Any news on when the lift might be ready?” asked Mallory.
“I’ll check with Ken later. I’m sorry it’s such a pain for you.”
“At least I’ve got to know my way around, I suppose.” Mallory shrugged.
“Harriet, there is no toilet paper in the ladies’ toilets!” Destiny announced, hands on her ample hips.
“Okay, I’ll sort it.” Harriet tried to remember where she’d stashed the toilet rolls.
“And don’t put more of that dreadful economy stuff in there!” said Prescilla. “It’s worse than useless.”
Harriet bit her lip, thinking about the twenty economy toilet rolls she’d already purchased.
“Technically not my job to keep the toilet rolls topped up,” she said, forcing a smile.
“We’ve run out of sugar!” shouted Ahmed.
Give me strength!
Her phone pinged with a message.
Cornell: I need you to write me a report with regards to Alejandro’s situation for a meeting I have with his parents in the morning. On my desk by 9 a.m.
Sugar Honey Ice Tea! She’d be burning the midnight oil again tonight.
“You could give us a clue, miss!” Ricco complained.
“Oh, don’t you start,” Harriet snapped.
“Oooooooh!” singsonged Carly.
Harriet bit her lip and folded her arms. Then she felt a warm, soft arm wrap around her shoulders, and Odette whispered, “You are doing a fine job,” in her lyrical Mauritian accent. “Some people are happiest when they’re moaning.”
Harriet felt some of the tension ease out of her shoulders.
“So this is them living their best life?” she asked, as Grace began to loudly critique the new drapes before moving seamlessly on to complain about Billy’s dirty boots.
“Sometimes having their voices heard is the closest people come to knowing they still exist. It doesn’t matter if the attention is good or bad.”
“You are a wise woman.” Harriet leaned her head on her shoulder, and Odette squeezed her tighter. It was very soothing; Odette smelled like baked bread and lavender.
She laughed and Harriet was jiggled in her embrace.
“I am an old woman,” Odette corrected her. “And I am very nosy. Nosiness is an underrated tool for understanding the human condition.”
“You should come and work with me at the school.”
“Oh, no thank you, I’ll stick with monitoring the big kids.”
It was at that moment that Carly and Ricco decided to bust out a rendition of “?’tis the damn season,” and Mateo, who had been quietly reading beside them in the stalls, slammed his newspaper down and angry-crab-waddled along the aisle away from them.
“I’m going to make you a nice cup of instant coffee,” said Odette. “Why don’t you come with me and choose a treat from my handbag?”
Harriet laughed and gratefully followed Odette to the dressing room.
Gideon arrived fashionably late, looking very pleased with himself as he was swamped by eager would-be actors. Ignoring their questions, he glided to the orchestra pit and stuck the cast list to one of the pillars. Harriet could feel self-importance pulsing out of him like a weather front as he stepped back to let eager eyes scan the printout. Thankfully, everyone appeared happy—aside from Billy, who hadn’t wanted a part—with their assigned roles, and there were yips and shouts from young and old as they found their names on the list.
Isabel was cast as Roberta Cratchit, and Sid, no surprise, was Tiny Tim and also the boy at the end of the play who buys the turkey. Billy was given the role of Mr. Cratchit, a stay-at-home dad, which, to Harriet’s surprise, he didn’t point-blank refuse. Grace was the Ghost of Christmas Past, Hiroshi—of course—was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, and Odette was the Ghost of Christmas Present. Destiny was to play the part of Jacob Marley. Ahmed had the lead as Ebenezer Scrooge, while Carly would play—and sing—as Belle, and Ricco would double as Scrooge’s nephew and young Scrooge. Members of both groups were also allotted smaller bit parts to cover crowd scenes and townspeople and read the narration.
It was the first time she had seen the famous five and the Great Foss Players bond in any meaningful way. The genuine handshakes and back pats of congratulations from both sides were heartwarming to see. With roles now assigned, the energy in the auditorium had morphed from fraught to impatient to get started. For all their high-maintenance ways, Harriet felt grateful for the new additions to the production.
Hesther and her women’s group arrived just after six o’clock with another group—who definitely were not women—in tow. Harriet was waiting for them in the foyer. Carly and Ricco, who had volunteered to give Hesther’s group a guided tour of the building, stood beside her. The others were in the auditorium being individually briefed on their characters’ motivations by Gideon, while Mallory—a West End choreographer before she retired—gave lessons on how to own the stage and capture the audience with one’s body. This had gone down like cat poo in a slipper with Billy, whose whole body, when Harriet had left him, appeared to be curling in on itself with cringe.
“Harriet!” Hesther beamed, dusting the snow off her jacket. “Gosh, the weather’s really turned, hasn’t it? As you can see, we’ve brought some friends.” She motioned to the gaggle of men lurking near the doors. “But first, I’d like to introduce the refugee women’s group.” She motioned to the women standing in an awkward huddle in the foyer, several of whom held foil trays covered in cling wrap. “I won’t bombard you with names right now, as there’s quite a few of us, but suffice to say, we are all terribly grateful to you. And we can’t wait to get stuck in with your set designs! We’ve brought a few treats to say thank you.”
“My goodness, thank you, you are going to be very popular! Why don’t you pop those down.” Harriet gestured to the old concessions stand. “We can carry them through after you’ve had a look around your new hangout. It’s so lovely to meet you all, please make yourselves at home.” She smiled at the women. “Carly and Ricco here will give you a quick tour, show you where the toilets are and teas and coffees, that sort of thing. If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to ask me. I don’t guarantee I’ll have the answer, but I’ll certainly try my best. I’ve spoken with Ken, the site manager, and he’s asked us to keep to the auditorium after six thirty, as they’ve got new fixtures and fittings being delivered and the foyer will be busy.”
The women nodded, smiling hesitantly.
“Thanks, Harriet,” said Hesther, clapping her hands together. “And now I’d like to introduce one of our fellow groups made homeless by the local council’s budget cuts. This is the Lonely Farts Club. Josef, this is Harriet, she’s, well, I suppose she’s sort of the community coordinator around here.”
Harriet tried her best not to look as wrong-footed as she felt. She also noted two walking sticks and a walking frame. We really need to make this place more accessible!
“Lovely to meet you, Josef,” she said, smiling. “I think ‘community coordinator’ sounds a bit grand. I’m simply borrowing the space for the time being and subletting it without the landlady’s permission.” She grinned.
Josef was a slightly stooped beanpole of a man in his late sixties, with soft blue eyes and gray hair swept back in a way that accentuated his widow’s peak. He wore a knitted sweater vest over a checked shirt and beige chinos.
“Ah! A bit of a rebel with a cause, are you, that’s what we like! Delighted to finally meet you, Harriet.” He shook her hand enthusiastically. “We’ve been hearing all sorts about your endeavors. The Lonely Farts Club are, as you can see, all men of a certain vintage, some of us widowers, some singletons by choice or circumstance, but all of us alone in the world apart from each other.” He smiled and went on to introduce each member. “We have Ernest, retired estate agent; Harry, who likes to keep his hand in at building; and Dhruv, an exceptional carpenter.” Dhruv gave a small bow. “Then there’s Winston, former engineer and full-time tinkerer; Kingsley, our resident tailor; and then me, retired baker, although one never truly retires from baking.”
The Lonely Farts nodded and chuckled in agreement.
“My waistline can attest to that,” Harry said, patting his stomach.
“Gosh!” Harriet’s cheeks ached from smiling. “Well, you are all very welcome.” What’s one more group in the mix. It could be fun!
“We don’t expect a free ride,” added Josef jovially. “We’ll earn our keep, so put us to work wherever you need us. We may be old farts, but we’re willing!”
“You may well regret offering your services, I will have no qualms about roping you all into our dramatic endeavors.” She meant it. “Please, make yourselves at home.” She turned to Carly and Ricco. “Right, you two, have you got your tour guides’ hats on?”
“We’re ready, miss,” said Carly.
“I was born ready,” added Ricco.
“Of course you were, Ricco. Now, Ken says the best place to start is next door with the restaurants and cocktail lounges, as they’ll have deliveries arriving soon and it’ll be off-limits after that.”
“Got it,” said Ricco. “Okay, everyone!” He stood straight as all eyes fixed on him and began to wave his arms like an air steward giving safety instructions. “If you’d like to follow Carly and me, we will be your guides for today; please keep together at all times and don’t feed the maintenance crews.”
There was a smattering of laughter as the two groups fell in behind Ricco and Carly. The Lonely Farts and the women’s group mingled together, clearly happy to see each other and chatting among themselves.
When the door swung closed behind the last person, Hesther said, “I’m sorry to ambush you like that. I promise it wasn’t intentional. I got a call late last night from Josef asking if you might help them too, and he sounded so desperate. I know it’s cheeky, but they have nowhere else to go since the council repurposed their meeting space and, well, it’s so easy for people to slip through the cracks, isn’t it?”
“Honestly, don’t give it another thought. This place is plenty big enough for us all and we might as well use it while we can. Perhaps if we root ourselves in firmly enough, the new owners will feel compelled to let us stay.”
“By the way, I need to thank you. I don’t know what you said to Evaline over the weekend, but it worked.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me,” said Harriet.
“Several of the women in the group were visited this morning by surveyors who noted down all the repairs that needed doing and promised that the relevant tradespeople would begin work by Wednesday. It seemed like too much of a coincidence after our conversation the other evening, so I assumed it must be down to you.”
Harriet tried to play down her delight but was sure it must be written all over her face.
“I can’t take the credit for that, I’m afraid. But I think I know a man who can.”
As Hesther went off in search of the tour groups, Harriet took a moment to bask in the warm pleasure of knowing that James had done the right thing. He must have pulled some powerful strings to get things moving so quickly, and dug into the Winter coffers too. She wondered how Evaline had reacted.
Harriet could hardly wait for James to arrive. Right now, she wanted to wrangle him into a storage cupboard and show him her appreciation.
Her ardor was swiftly cooled, though, when she reentered the auditorium. What in the Charles Dickens?
“I said, leave her alone,” Billy hissed through gritted teeth. Isabel stood at his side looking uneasy.
“If you’re going to threaten me, at least have the gumption to look me in the eye.” Grace’s stance was combative; she stood with her legs as wide as her sensible tweed skirt would allow, arms crossed tightly across her chest. She was blocking the aisle.
“How am I threatening you?” Billy asked.
“Everything about you screams ‘thug.’?”
“What did you call me?”
“Don’t give her the satisfaction,” Isabel implored, and then added, “Miserable old cow!”
“Now, now, let’s not descend into name-calling,” Ahmed pleaded.
Harriet hurried down the stairs. She noted Gideon sitting in the front row doing absolutely nothing to smooth things over.
“What is going on here?” she asked.
“An altercation about enunciation,” Douglas explained helpfully. “Grace may have been a little overzealous in her critiquing of Isabel’s performance.”
Harriet felt James fall in beside her; she could smell the cold evening trapped in the fabric of his overcoat.
“A little?” Prescilla asked incredulously. “Like Gordon Ramsay gets a little worked up in Hell’s Kitchen .”
“Oh, shut up, Prescilla!” Grace snapped. “The primary function of an actor is to convey the dialogue to the audience, and this girl mumbles like she’s got a mouth full of cotton wool.”
“Um, Grace, I think you need to understand that Isabel isn’t a trained actor; we’re all very much learning on the job, and you can be a little intimidating.” Harriet tried to sound placating. “I think if we can show one another a little kindness…”
“Ah, the snowflake generation strikes again!” Grace sounded triumphant.
“It’s not about being a snowflake, it’s about being reasonable,” Harriet countered.
“I’d rather be a snowflake than a fascist,” Billy added.
Ye gads!
“You can’t go around calling people fascists, Billy,” said James.
“Oh, come off it!” Billy shouted.
“James is right,” said Harriet. “Grace, you’re out of line too.”
“Me!” Grace exploded.
“That’s it, take his side!” Billy snapped.
“Not everything is about taking sides,” said Harriet wearily.
“I think we all need to take a step back and give one another some room,” said James.
“You take a step back!” Billy shouted.
“Not helping, Billy,” Harriet warned.
“And this is what we’re left with, a generation with egos so delicate they can’t take constructive criticism.” Grace refolded her arms, self-satisfied.
“Sometimes your constructive criticism sounds like bullying,” said Prescilla.
“Nonsense! And as for their disrespectfulness, well, I blame the parents!” Grace announced, sucking her cheeks in triumphantly.
Oh, bum-swizzles! Now she’s done it. She waited for the explosion. Three, two, one…
“Fuck you!” Billy roared, turning away and storming back down the aisle, Isabel trailing after him.
“Come back here!” James shouted, making to follow.
“Don’t shout at him!” Harriet grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Leave him be.”
A howl ripped through the air as Leo jumped to his feet and began kicking everything he could see—a bucket, his rucksack, the bag of brushes; he grabbed a can of open paint and threw it over the backcloth he’d been painstakingly working on.
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he screamed, pulling at his hair before dashing off the stage.
“Oh, well, that’s just bloody marvelous!” Harriet exploded.
“You see,” Grace said, satisfied. “Snowflakes.”
Harriet rounded on her.
“No! Not snowflakes. Billy doesn’t have parents, he’s spent most of his life in care, so forgive him if he’s a bit sensitive when someone uses something stupid like ‘I blame the parents’ as a stick to beat him with. And Leo, for reasons that are none of your business, becomes stressed by aggressive altercations. You know nothing about these children, or what they’ve been through. Now, if you’re done issuing judgments about people you don’t know, I’m going to go after my students.”
Harriet walked away quickly before she said something she’d really regret.
“How was I to know?” she heard Grace say sulkily.
She found Leo in an empty dressing room, carving his name into the desktop that ran below the long mirror with a pencil. He stopped, looking guilty, when she walked in and sat down next to him.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re not the first person to leave their mark.” It was true, the desk was covered all over with names.
“I’m sorry,” said Leo.
“There’s no harm done. You really kicked the crap out of that bucket, huh.”
He rewarded her with the ghost of a smile.
“Did you do your breathing?” she asked.
“It didn’t work.”
“It’s probably the newness of everything making it hard to focus.”
“I guess.”
“Don’t give up on it, it’s helped before. You are allowed to remove yourself from any situation that makes you feel threatened.”
“I thought if I concentrated on the drawing, I could handle it.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Better. Stupid.”
“You’re allowed to feel any way you want, but in my opinion, you’re not stupid. I’m glad you feel better. Would you like me to call your mum?”
“No, I want to stay, if I’m allowed.”
“Oh, excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude,” came the gentle lilt of Odette’s voice in the doorway. “But I always carry a few little treats in my bag, and you look like someone who could use a treat.”
She bustled into the room and opened her bag wide to show the contents. Harriet glanced at Leo, who looked as awed as she felt; it was a tuck shop in there. Small tubs contained flapjacks, chocolate bars, nuts, raisins, biscuits, and a miniature Battenberg cake.
“Go on now, help yourself,” Odette said encouragingly. And when Leo chose a small bag of cookies and muttered a thank-you, she rubbed his head, kissed her teeth, and said, “And when you’re done, you come on back outside and work on those drawings of yours. I’ll make sure there’s no more trouble, don’t you worry.”
Harriet had no doubt that she would be as good as her word.
“I ruined my backcloth,” he said, jamming his fists into his eyes to hide his tears.
“Well now, I had a little look before I came to see you and it’s really not as bad as you might think,” Odette soothed.
“Really?” he asked hopefully.
“A little Jackson Pollock flourish is all, nothing we can’t work into the picture if we put our heads together. Hmmm? How about it? Why don’t me and you go see what we can do?” Odette’s voice was gently persuasive, and it worked its magic on Leo.
Thank you , Harriet mouthed to Odette as the older woman made to chaperone Leo back to the stage. Odette smiled and winked in return.
Harriet took herself off to the bathroom to gather herself before going after Billy and Isabel. She checked her phone.
Cornell: Don’t forget that report. 9 a.m.
Cornell: Smoked bacon.
Cornell: That wasn’t meant for you.
Cornell: The dean wants an update on the Christmas prize-giving. Where are you on that?
Prize-giving! She groaned out loud. With everything else going on, the end-of-year student awards ceremony had completely slipped her mind. She’d sent out emails to teachers to ask who they’d like to nominate but hadn’t chased them up. Maybe I should just give up sleeping. How long can a person actually go without sleeping? She was considering getting hit by a slow-moving car, nothing too serious, just enough that she could spend the next few weeks in hospital and miss Christmas completely, when she heard voices outside the door.
“I apologize for shouting at you. I was out of line.”
It was James’s voice. Calm and reasoning.
“Don’t worry about it.” Billy, sulky.
“She picks at everything, all the time,” came Isabel’s voice. “I mean, all the time. She’s got it in for Billy, he can’t do anything right.”
“And you give as good as you get,” said James.
“I’m not just gonna take it, am I?” Billy mumbled.
“I think it’s fair to say that your personalities clash.”
She heard Billy’s derisive snort.
“I’m not going to ask you to rise above it because that puts the onus on you and relieves Grace from any responsibility, and I believe there to be equal fault on both sides. But I will ask both of you to try and keep the peace and resist falling into name-calling. Does that sound fair to you?”
At a pause, in her mind’s eye Harriet could see Billy, seething, wanting to shout and rail, but James’s calm gave him nowhere to point his anger.
“Fine,” said Billy. “But if she starts—”
“Understood,” said James. “Maybe take a few minutes, walk it off, and then come back when you’re ready.”
Mumbled responses followed, and she heard Isabel’s voice talking softly, growing distant. Harriet opened the bathroom door and James turned, his expression pensive.
“I didn’t know you were in there,” he said.
“I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You heard?”
She nodded. “You handled that well.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “After the fact. It would have been better if I hadn’t exacerbated it in the first place.”
“But you made it right. That’s what counts.”
“I have a lot to learn about teenagers.”
“I don’t think I could respect anyone who didn’t think they still had things to learn,” she said honestly.
“You really are a good person, aren’t you?”
She smiled. “You arranged repairs for Evaline’s private lets,” she said.
He gave a small nod.
“I investigated her rentals portfolio and found it wanting. I orchestrated a change of buildings management agency accordingly.”
She smiled. He’d listened and he’d heard, that was worth a lot.
“You’re a good person too,” she said.
“How’s Leo?” he asked.
“He’ll be okay.”
“They’re complicated, aren’t they?”
“Aren’t we all?” she replied.
When she got home, she changed straight into her pajamas, made herself a big mug of hot chocolate, and climbed into bed with her laptop to start her report for Cornell. Today had wrung her out, left her limp with fatigue. She was no stranger to burning the candle at both ends, but at this rate she was going to need a much longer wick. The only upside to being so busy that she’d practically had to start scheduling pee breaks into her day was that she didn’t have time to dwell on the Maisy-shaped hole in her home.