Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

S ally was not the sort of person to hang around. Chin still up, she caught the tram at the end of the street and was at The Empire an hour after sitting down with Mrs Parsons. It was dark, and the November evening was getting chilly. A modest crowd of well-dressed Highbridge citizens were making their way into the lobby to see – Sally squinted at the poster – The Two Ladies of Grasmere . She’d better wait. If she popped in now, they’d think she had money spare for a seat and an idea of spending it, and she didn’t like the thought of that confusion.

She walked slowly round the edge of the building. In the two years since the theatre reopened, she’d never seen a show here. Friday and Saturday nights she was singing, and after work she mostly liked to take Dougie for a walk to the park. She’d been to the pictures a couple of times, but getting dressed up to go to The Empire felt like it wasn’t for her. What if she spent her money, got all the way here and didn’t like the show? She’d feel a right fool then. And the chemist was always recommending something new for her to try for Dougie’s breathing. Wooden frames with posters in them were screwed into the side wall of the building at intervals. The pantomime! Dick Whittington , it said. Dougie would like that. Maybe if she got the cleaning job, she’d get a deal on a ticket. She turned the corner and saw an alleyway leading to a yard, and a sign saying stage door. The smartly painted blue door below it was held open by a brick. It all looked very modest in comparison with that grand lobby. Should she go and ask for Mrs Briggs? Oh, she’d been foolish to come down in the evening like this, all in a rush of hurt pride and fluster! Theatres were cleaned during the day, after all. And maybe she could get a job in Bertram’s, now she had her letter. She was quick with her numbers. She hoped Mrs Parsons had written that down. Shop work wouldn’t be as rough on her hands as charring either. Cleaning other people’s homes had worn her mother out. It was a silly idea, coming here with her feathers all ruffled.

She was about to go when her eye was caught by some movement just above the brick. A furry snout with a black button nose poked out into the night air and sniffed, and a second or two later a small, cheerful-looking terrier emerged and trotted across the yard to meet her.

Sally crouched down and offered the dog her hand to sniff, and he graciously allowed his ears to be scratched.

‘What a good boy!’ Sally said, cheered by the soft warmth of his fur. The dog wagged his tail with great enthusiasm, then the stage door swung open, and light spilled out into the yard, falling over Sally and the dog like a spotlight. Sally shielded her eyes against the sudden glare.

‘Ollie? What are you up to?’ a male voice asked.

Ollie yapped, though he didn’t move from Sally’s side, and instead butted gently against her hand as she paused the scratching. Sally saw the man who had spoken standing in the doorway. He was leaning on a cane.

‘Good evening, miss!’ he said, spotting her and stepping out into the yard. ‘Is Ollie bothering you?’

Sally stood up. ‘Not a bit. He’s given me a hearty welcome as it happens, cheered me right up.’

As the man came towards her, Sally noticed half his face was covered in a white mask. Hurt during the war, no doubt. The half not covered seemed friendly enough.

‘Has he now? And wh-wh-why did you need cheering, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Sally felt embarrassed to say, but the little terrier was pushing up against her ankles.

‘I’ve just lost my job, and I heard there was an opening for a char here. So I came straight down, and then realised I was being daft turning up at this hour. Then this fella found me.’

The dog barked and the man shook his head and laughed, then put out his hand.

‘I’m Danny Moon, doorman here, and this is Ollie. By the l-l-looks of it, I’d say the job is yours. We all take Ollie’s opinions very seriously.’

Sally grinned, and bent down to stroke Ollie’s ears again. ‘Well, thank you, Ollie! I’m not sure if I should take the job, though. More shop work might suit me better.’

Danny looked between her and the dog for a second.

‘Ollie looks quite determined. Have you got a minute now? Come backstage and take a look. Then you can decide if it would suit you or not.’

Sally glanced towards the open stage door. Half an hour having a look around in a real theatre wouldn’t do any harm, and it’d be a chance to warm up after standing around in the misty chill of Highbridge.

‘That’s nice of you, Mr Moon,’ she said, following him back towards the golden glow of light spilling out of the door. ‘If it’s not an inconvenience to you, I’ll have a look about.’

Ollie gave a contented huff, and Danny smiled and gave a little bow as he ushered her inside.

Sally had never seen any place like it. The second she stepped through the door, she began to feel music in her head – a sort of jaunty, jumping jingle on a piano, which meant a really good tune was about to start. The lobby behind the stage door was a neat little space, with pale green walls and a polished rack of pigeonholes for messages on the wall behind a wooden counter. The space behind it looked cosy and neat, with a stool, an armchair and a dog basket, and even a telephone with a message pad right next to it. But before she could even start to take it all in, Danny was climbing up a short flight of stairs and pushing open a double door with company only painted on it in swirling cream letters. Sally trotted up the steps behind him. As she stepped through the door, she heard a rushing noise, like the waves retreating from the beach – a sort of sigh. The audience, she realised, settling into their seats. A thrill ran up her spine. That smart crowd she’d seen milling around on the pavement outside were on that side of the curtain, but she, Sally Blow, was behind it.

Corridors reached off in confusing directions all around her. On the walls were posters and photographs, and arranged against them were tea chests with the address of the theatre stencilled on the sides.

Danny nodded towards them. ‘Deliveries for the panto,’ he whispered. ‘All sorts of things sent up from London – materials for the costumes, some of the p-p-props.’

Sally peered into one as they passed and got a glimpse of a cloud of pink netting, all sewn with sequins. Danny was off again, and she followed along a corridor marked to the stage in huge letters.

She heard actual music now – an elegant air played by piano and violins, drifting towards them. Danny pointed with his cane. ‘Down those stairs are the workshops and the electrics room, the cane flicked upwards, ‘and up those stairs are the rehearsal rooms and Lady Lassiter’s offices.’ Sally saw herself setting a cup of tea down on a fancy desk, and that woman she’d seen arriving at the theatre two years before looking up and saying, ‘Thank you, Sally.’

‘And along here are the dressing rooms,’ Danny said as they passed by doors, some shut, some half-open to allow glimpses of mirrors, make-up and racks of costumes. She could smell sawdust and cigarette smoke. ‘And now, if we’re quiet, we can watch the opening from the wings.’

Sally’s heart started tripping along to the music in her head as she followed Danny out of the corridor and into an area of deep darkness, with just the faintest glow coming from shaded lights fixed to the walls. A few men in shirtsleeves stood about, leaning on the back wall, and an older woman, in an old-fashioned dress with a corset and bustle, stood on the edge of the darkness, her head down. The fingers of her right hand were tapping against the heavy fabric of her dress, as if she was playing a tune of her own. Sally felt looking at her was like staring at someone praying, so she looked up and almost stumbled. It was like standing in the middle of a cathedral and looking up into the spire. Floating ghostlike in the air above her were huge hanging panels of scenery, and among them long straight lines of rope which ran from coils on the back wall and disappeared up into the darkness, like the rigging of a huge pirate ship. On the stage, a dining table, laid with plates of wax fruit, stood in the shadows, the silver candlesticks catching the occasional glimmer in the dark, and right in front of her was a sudden patch of brilliance. She blinked, and realised she was looking out on to the actual stage, and the heavy red velvet curtain itself. The house lights were coming down, and the velvet shone like late summer roses in the sun. The music finished with an elegant flourish; the men backstage exchanged nods and hauled on ropes, and the curtain swung open. There was a pause, as a thousand people seemed to hold their breath, then the older woman lifted her head and walked out into a wave of applause.

‘What a thing,’ Sally whispered to herself, ‘to be waited for like that.’

Sally couldn’t see what the woman was doing from here, but it must be something funny, because a warm wave of laughter rippled through the audience and across the stage. Sally felt it wash around her. It sounded different up here – not like when she was in the crowd at the flicks; more like music. Another woman, of a similar age to the other, and with her iron-grey hair piled high on her head, stepped into the wings next to them and tutted.

‘Always overplays her first bit,’ she hissed. ‘Terrible technique. Been doing it since Bognor Regis.’

Then she swept on to the stage and, in a high fluting voice, announced ‘Miss Bransome, you have discommoded the fishmonger once more!’

The audience laughed and applauded as if they were greeting an old friend. A thrill seemed to creep up from the boards, through Sally’s shoes and all the way to the top of her head. She had never drunk champagne, but she was pretty sure this fizzing, golden feeling would be what it was like. She realised Danny was watching her. When she caught his eye, he leant towards her.

‘Still want to work in a shop?’

Sally caught her breath. ‘Not bloody likely. If Mrs Briggs wants me, she can have me.’

Danny looked pleased, and Ollie sat on his haunches, as smug a terrier as ever caught a biscuit.