The clock on the dashboard of Dad’s car was showing twenty-two minutes past seven – time for me to get to the meeting of the Compton Players. I locked up the car and headed for the town hall.
As I neared it, however, I realized I might well have a problem. The lights were on in the upper hall, which I knew was reached by a long, curving flight of stone stairs. How stupid of me not to have thought of that before! I’d assumed the Players met in one of the downstairs rooms, but why would they? There was a stage in the upper hall – of course that would be their venue.
The prospect of getting myself up all those stairs was a daunting one, but I couldn’t give up at the first hurdle. One of the big double doors appeared to have been left on the latch; I pushed it open and went inside.
I was just preparing to haul myself up the stairs when the door opened again and a girl came in. She was about my own age, with a mop of impossibly curly hair, dark-rimmed spectacles, and she was carrying a large wicker basket.
‘Hello! Are you lost?’ Her voice was pleasant and friendly; the lilting Welsh accent was unmistakable. Before I could make myself known, though, she went on in almost the same breath: ‘Ah, wait a minute. You must be Dawn.’
‘Yes. And you must be Delyth.’
‘For my sins! Goodness, I didn’t realize you were still on crutches! Don’t try going up those stairs, whatever you do. There’s a lift just by here. Come on, I’ll show you.’
A lift. Well, that was new! Installed for disabled access, I imagine. It must have cost a fortune!
‘I might as well come up with you,’ Delyth said. ‘I don’t generally bother with it, but seeing as you’re here . . .’
She pressed a button, a door slid open and we squashed into the tiny compartment, Delyth’s basket sandwiched between us.
‘So you thought you’d like to join us then?’ she asked as we clattered towards the upper floor.
‘Well . . . yes. As you can see, I won’t be a lot of use to you,’ I said ruefully.
‘Nonsense! We can always find something you can do. It’s great to get new members. There were about forty of us at one time, but numbers are slipping. People move away, you know, that sort of thing. And you won’t be on crutches forever, will you?’
‘I sincerely hope not! But . . .’ On the point of saying I would no longer be in Stoke Compton when my leg was healed, I broke off. I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that I would be a very temporary member.
The lift came to a stop and we got out. It had deposited us in a corner of the landing between the top of the flight of stairs and the door to the upper hall.
‘Come on in then, and you can meet the gang – well, those that turn up on time, anyway,’ Delyth said, holding the door open for me to go in.
The hall hadn’t changed much since the days when I used to come here as a child for dancing classes. It was still cavernous, with tall arched windows and a low stage at the far end. But it had been decorated fairly recently, from the look of it – the walls were cream emulsion rather than the dirty brown colour I remembered, and the curtains – rich red velvet – at the windows and hiding the stage looked relatively new.
About half a dozen members had already arrived; a little knot were gathered around one of the big old radiators, and a large, balding man was setting out chairs in a circle.
‘Come and meet John – he’s our chairman.’ Delyth laughed. ‘Chairman being a very apt word to describe him by the look of it.’
‘Delyth, my angel.’ The man unhooked another chair from a stack and positioned it between the others. He was wearing a scarlet sweater that stretched over his impressive paunch and baggy cords. ‘Did you get the scripts from the library, darling?’ His voice carried across the hall with all the resonance of a trained actor’s.
‘I did.’ Delyth put her basket down on one of the chairs and I could see it contained paperback books divided into sets by rubber bands. ‘Blithe Spirit and I Remember Mama. The Ayckbourn was out on loan, I’m afraid.’
‘As always. That man is just too popular.’ He turned his gaze on me. ‘And who are you, my darling?’
‘This is Sally, a prospective new member,’ Delyth said with a twinge of pride, as if she’d recruited me herself. ‘Sally, this is John Hollingsworth. He’s our chairman, as I said, but he also directs. And acts sometimes, too.’
‘Sometimes!’ John rolled his eyes. ‘When have I not had to step in to fill a part? Lack of men, you see, that’s the trouble. We never have enough men. You haven’t a brother who’d be interested in joining us, I suppose?’ he asked me.