They might be grumpy like my mysterious helper from the previous night but then at least I’d know. I couldn’t just take Nancy’s word for it, what kind of person would? After all, she’d told me she’d be leaving me the curtains and there was absolutely no sign of them anywhere in the house.
FOUR
DONNA
I spent the day exploring the town before returning home in time to get changed to go out to the drama group. I’d found the theatre during my travels, a slightly dilapidated but romantic enough looking Victorian building in the middle of town, surrounded by shops and cafes, posters of recent performances on the wall outside. My eye was drawn to one titled About Last Night. Someone had scrawled “Cancelled,” across it in black marker pen, the letters jagged as if they were furious when writing it.
That evening, I headed out in time to get to the theatre for seven. I found the door unlocked. Pushing it open, I heard the sound of voices further inside. At the end of the corridor was another door and I went through it, finding myself at the back of an auditorium. There was a group of people sitting in a circle on the stage, looking like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, all of them on folding metal chairs.
“What I’m saying,” an elderly gent was shouting, “is that we should just give up on the idea and think of something else.”
“That’s a bit defeatist, isn’t it?” a middle aged woman replied, her head turning towards me as she did so. “Hello, dear, can we help?”
“Hi, is this the drama group?” I asked, walking down the aisle between the rows of seats.
“This is SADS,” the elderly gent replied. “Are you sad enough to join us?”
“I don’t know about that,” I said, stopping below the stage. “Do you have to be sad to act?”
“You do here, love.”
“Oh, stop it,” the woman said, pointing towards a set of steps at the side of the stage. “Come on up, dear and introduce yourself. We’re always glad of new members.”
As I walked up the steps, the woman fetched a chair from a pile at the edge of the stage. “Shuffle up, Henry,” she said, nudging a man in the arm. “Give her some room to sit down.”
I sat down on the chair the woman offered, looking round the group who all nodded back to me. “I’m Erica,” the middle aged woman said. That’s Henry the other side of you. Don’t ask him about his poodle, he’ll be on at you for hours. Then there’s Nigel there, the longest serving saddo. Next to him is Leanne and then Natalie and lastly this is Simon.”
“Hi,” I said, waving and doing my best to remember their names. “I’m Donna.”
A chorus of hellos went up as Nigel, the white haired old gent who’d been speaking when I first came in, coughed loudly. “If I can get back to what I was saying, I don’t see the point in asking him when he’s just going to say no.”
“We’ve been through this,” Erica replied. “We won’t know unless we try. The posters have all been printed after all.”
“And I didn’t appreciate having to write cancelled on every one. Can’t we sue Nancy? Get some of the cost back?”
“What’s this?” I asked. “Am I missing something?”
“Oh, where do I begin?” Erica said. “Well, we were hoping to put on a play because the playwright lives here.”
“About Last Night?”
“Right, you know it?”
“Not really. I saw the poster outside. Is it a good one?”
“It’s incredible. It was huge in its time but he hasn’t given anyone permission to perform it for years.”
“Why not?”
“There’s a bit near the end where one of the characters is tied up in rope. Unfortunately someone died performing it and ever since then he’s refused to give his consent. I think he blames himself for what happened but it was just an accident.”
“Were you thinking of asking him?”
“We thought Nancy had.”
“Sorry?”
“Nancy. She was in charge of the group until she moved. She promised us she’d gotten permission from him to perform it, swore it was all done and dusted. Of course, once we started rehearsing, we found out the truth that she made it up.”
“Wait, it wasn’t Nancy Miller, was it?”
“Oh, did you know her?” the teenage girl opposite me asked. “She wasn’t a relative of yours was she?”
“No, I just bought her house.”
“I see.”
“She left me a note telling me not to join this group.”
“I bet she did,” Henry said. “Lying cow.”