Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-five
Two more waif and stray community groups had arrived and been quickly assimilated into the theater. They were followed by a single-parents coffee group who, once they’d finished their meeting, were eager to help with painting the last of the backcloths. The buzz in the theater was so intoxicating that almost everyone who’d arrived ended up offering their services in some way to the production.
Harriet and Gideon stayed at the theater late that night drawing up volunteer sheets with jobs that needed doing. By late Friday afternoon, most of the sheets had the names of willing participants scribbled beside their chosen tasks. A Christmas Carol now had a full quota of stagehands and lighting and sound engineers.
“Harriet!”
She heard her name whisper-hissed and turned in her seat, from where she had been half watching the rehearsals onstage, as she tried to file reports ready for Monday morning’s department meeting. Mallory was beckoning her furiously from the middle aisle. Harriet shimmied along the row toward her.
“Hey, Mallory, have you seen the sign-up sheets? They’re almost full.”
“Never mind that. Evaline is in the foyer!” Mallory exclaimed.
“What? She wasn’t due to visit today.”
“Well, she’s here and she looks pissed. And she’s asking for you.”
“Oh, cripes! Okay, let’s go see what she wants.” Harriet gestured toward the lift.
“Oh no, not me. You’re on your own!” Mallory swiveled, cackling wickedly, and zipped off down the aisle toward the orchestra pit, where the final touches were being made to the window from which Scrooge would call out to a street urchin near the end of the play.
Harriet found Evaline in the middle of the foyer, sitting like a queen in a wheelchair with red velvet cushions, her expression radiating I am not amused . Austin, in his chauffeur’s cap and suit, stood behind her chair like a bodyguard, poised to push when the order was given.
Harriet was surprised to see her in a wheelchair, but she made no mention of it.
“Evaline.” Harriet smiled. “How lovely to see you. We weren’t expecting you today.”
“So I see!”
The doors to the building next door opened and James appeared, allowing the cacophony of the five-to-elevens music club—Sonja’s Semibreves—to flood into the already noisy foyer. Clearly, he had been alerted to the grande dame’s arrival too.
“Evaline!” he called jovially over the sound of cymbals crashing and a rubber mallet streaking enthusiastically along a xylophone. The old woman looked him up and down, taking in his jeans and knitted sweater, the corners of her mouth twisting downward in displeasure. “What a lovely surprise,” he continued. Harriet could tell that he was caught off guard, but he was covering it well.
“A surprise , I am sure, though I doubt you find my presence lovely . I seem to have found you in the middle of a chaotic episode.”
“Oh, good lord no, it’s always like this!” trilled Prescilla, floating through the foyer at speed, flapping a book of sheet music. “You should see it when it’s busy! Snacks are on the way, chaps and chapesses!” she called, taking the grand staircase two steps at a time.
Evaline had the look of a woman being silently electrocuted.
“Who are all these people in my theater?” she demanded.
Harriet chanced a glance at James, who seemed to have decided to embrace the situation rather than manage it. He grinned mischievously as he made his way to her side and said through gritted teeth: “I think the jig is up, we may as well come clean.”
Oh my god, he’s going to get himself fired! Her mind spun wildly as she tried to think of ways that she could explain all of this and paint James as a hapless victim of her overzealous community spirit.
But before she could articulate her excuses, he took hold of her hand and with the other made a wide arc of the foyer, and said, “Welcome to your community hub, Evaline!”
Evaline’s eyes squinted like she’d just bitten down on a Sour Patch sweet. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a deep breath, but James didn’t give her a chance to speak.
“Over here, we have the Relic Hunters.” He gestured toward them, deep in discussion about the items on their finds table, and waved. “Can you talk us through what you’re doing today please, guys?”
Cassidy, who had been sitting with a long cream petticoat spilling out over her lap as she sewed, stood.
“Sure. So, we’re detectorists, and usually once every couple of weeks we get together and show our finds and discuss them, but since we’ve joined the theater, we’ve pretty much become part of the furniture.”
“A very welcome and vital part of the furniture,” Harriet added, smiling.
“Thanks,” said Cassidy. “I think we’ve found our kin among the folks here. You’re welcome to come over and have a look at our most recent finds, if you like.”
“What I would like—” Evaline began, but Harriet, seeing that she was about to say something disagreeable, cut her off.
“And because we’re all multitaskers here, they are also lending a hand to your production by knocking up some costumes, alongside the Lonely Farts and some of the women in Hesther’s group. Josef and Dhruv are up in the kitchen now, baking snacks to keep us all going for practice tonight. It’s all hands on deck if we are to meet your tight deadline.”
“The Lonely what did you say?” Evaline spluttered.
“Farts!” James grinned. “Okay, then; thanks, guys!” James gave the Relic Hunters a thumbs-up, and they went back to their artifacts and their needles and thread. “And over here…” He motioned to the area near the old box office, which had been set up with a trestle table and chairs. “We have some more of our Lonely Farts Club members.”
Winston looked up and smiled. His beard and hair were a mass of tight gray curls and his eyes always twinkled with merriment.
“Excuse us,” he said. “We are in the midst of a rather thrilling game of dominoes.”
Kingsley waved one of the cream tiles. “Ernest is painting backcloths with Farahnoush, and the last time I saw Harry he was helping to stop the wobble on Scrooge’s bedroom window. We’re rather scattered about the place at present.”
“The Lonely Farts are invaluable members of the team,” said Harriet, smiling fondly at Kingsley. “The youngsters in particular have really benefited from their wisdom.”
“People are always saying that you can’t teach old dogs new tricks, but they never take into account the old tricks that we can teach the new dogs.” Winston winked at her.
“Quite right,” said Harriet. She turned to Evaline, still sitting monarchlike on her throne. “This experience is beneficial in so many ways to all of us.”
“I’m sure I’m delighted to be accommodating a huge portion of the proletarian populace in my theater so that they can find themselves,” Evaline snipped.
Harriet felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment. James looked equally mortified.
“I think you’ve been living up in your high tower for too long,” Kingsley said calmly. “You seem to have forgotten your manners.”
Evaline’s eyes grew so wide with outrage that Harriet feared they might pop right out like two hard-boiled eggs. The old woman pushed on the arms of her chair, hands shaking as she made to stand. Austin immediately moved to one side of her and James to the other, like sentries.
Any great declarations she might have been about to make were swallowed by the swing doors opening—pushing in the sounds of a trombone and trumpet being played badly—and several joyful humans carrying trays of hot snacks.
“Right, nosh is up, people!” Josef called. “To the auditorium!”
At this, dominoes and historical artifacts were discarded as everyone followed the Pied Pipers up the grand staircase.
“Evaline, perhaps you’d like to try the new lift to take us down to the auditorium?” Harriet asked. “I’m sure you’d like to see how the production is coming along.”
Evaline gave her a cold, hard stare.
“Very well. Since it pertains to my reason for being here, I may as well.”
She allowed herself to be gingerly lowered back into her wheelchair and did her utmost not to show that she was impressed by the restoration of the beautiful Art Deco interior of the lift.
As the doors swished closed Harriet began, “I don’t want to sound rude, but why are you here?”
“I came to inform you that as of tomorrow the box office will be open.”
“I’d thought the production was going to be free—why do people need tickets?” Harriet queried.
“It’s a fire safety thing,” James answered. “Legally we can only have a certain number of bodies in the building. It makes sense to ticket the event, so that we can be sure we are meeting fire safety standards.”
“Oh, okay. But the tickets are still free, right?”
“Almost. There is a two-pound charge, one hundred percent of which goes to the local food bank,” said James. Evaline sniffed disdainfully. Harriet wanted to press herself against James and tell him he was wonderful.
“It would appear that your obsessive do-gooding has rubbed off on my solicitor and made him soft in the head. You are like a snowball, Ms. Smith, rolling downhill, gathering up waifs and strays as you go before thundering like an avalanche into my theater.”
“Ummm, thank you?” Harriet said.
“Be quiet! I am not finished.”
Harriet bit her lip and stared down at the carpet.
“However,” Evaline continued, “my accountant will see that my generosity to local charities works favorably on my tax return.”
The lift opened and despite being in her chair, Evaline used her stick to hit at the ankles of anyone who got in her way. When they reached the front row of the dress circle, Austin helped Evaline to a seat in the center. Harriet seated herself beside Evaline, with James on her other side. Austin settled in a few rows behind.
Smells of hot mince pies and gingerbread mixed and mingled with honey-sweet and cumin-savory pastries laid out on tables below the stage. All over the theater, people stopped what they were doing to grab a hot morsel or three and got comfortable in the stalls while they ate. Under the stage lights, Ahmed as Scrooge and Odette as the Ghost of Christmas Present played out their roles.
“ Spirit! Are they yours? ” Ahmed fell to his knees, hands clasped in supplication, looking up at Odette.
“ They are man’s ,” Odette replied.
As the scene came to its dramatic end, a bell rang twelve times and a shiver ran down Harriet’s spine. Then the theater erupted into rapturous applause. Harriet joined in, but it didn’t surprise her to note that Evaline’s gloved hands remained folded in her lap. She found herself reciting one of the lines she had helped Carly to learn in her role as Belle. You fear the world too much. All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the chance of its sordid reproach. Without turning fully, she cast her eyes sideways at Evaline in time to see a single tear run down the old woman’s softly crumpled cheek and drip down onto the fur collar of her coat.