The Boy I Love (9 page)

‘Pecking order?’ repeated Sally. ‘How do you mean?’

Heather came back and took a list from her bag; she placed it between them. ‘This is the cast, and it’s important that you learn who is at the top of the list, and who is at the
bottom. And let me tell you that very often, some of these buggers shouldn’t be on any list at all!’ Her good humour restored, over the next half an hour Heather took Sally through the
cast, and then led her up to the stage to lay out chairs ready for the ‘Meet and Greet’. Two large chairs stood in the centre, and then the smaller fold-away chairs fanned out on each
side into a semi-circle.

Heather laid a cast list on the two main chairs, saying, ‘These are for Peggy and Percy, our leading artistes – a couple off stage as well as on, known behind their backs as Pinky
and Perky.’ She snorted. ‘They rule the roost, so watch out. Don’t tell Peggy anything she can use against you, and keep out of Percy’s way unless you are prepared to be a
slave to his demands.’

‘How many of the cast have been here before?’ Sally asked as she put a typed list on each chair.

‘Let’s see . . . well, Geoffrey Challis has done a few seasons here. He is lovely, by the way. He has a wife and three kids and I really don’t know how he makes ends meet, but
I suspect his missus has money. Charmaine Lloyd was here last year. She’s OK most of the time, but I get the impression she feels she should be leading the Royal Shakespeare Company. As far
as I know, everyone else is a newcomer.’

‘I am staying with Peter and Janie at the moment. I met them last night and they seem very pleasant.’ Sally followed Heather across the stage to the pass door. Heather held it open
for her, and then they both climbed the stairs to the Green Room, which was inevitably at the top of the building.

‘This will keep you fit,’ puffed Heather. ‘I keep trying to give up the fags but it’s hopeless.’

The Green Room was the heart of any theatrical company. So-called because it was invariably painted green, it was the communal dumping ground and meeting place for the actors and stage
management. Here, there was tea and coffee, a kettle, a fridge and a microwave. The fridge, Heather said, was usually crammed with every type of food imaginable, from salad to Pot Noodles, to
mouldy cheese. The room always had that faint aura of curry and burnt toast. This morning was no exception.

Heather went straight to the little window in the corner and opened it, saying, ‘Oh God, it always stinks in here. Look at the sink! No one ever washes up the plates or anything. I am
going to put up a notice for the new company, and let’s try to get them to at least clear up their own mess. We have enough to do without taking that on as well. Now as you will discover, the
tea and coffee need constant replenishing – it goes so fast. The management pays for that, and milk, and sometimes biscuits for special occasions, like today. First day we always have
biscuits, which I have brought with me, so if you could find a clean plate and put them out, I will make a start on washing up mugs. We are about twenty today.’

‘Blimey, as many as that,’ said Sally, hunting for plates.

‘Yes. The lighting designer comes and the designer, the wardrobe and the carpenter, et cetera. Plus we are quite a big cast, you know,’ added Heather. ‘Twelve, I think, and
more to come later.’

By the time they had sorted out the refreshments and carried them back to the stage, the first arrivals were standing around looking lost.

‘Morning, all. There is tea and coffee on the way, so please find a seat and read your production notes and call sheets,’ announced Heather authoritatively. ‘Sally, let’s
set up a table in the prompt corner – there is a socket there for the kettle.’

Sally followed her over to the corner and dumped her load, then turned back to the stage to watch the arrivals. Janie and Peter had just come in and waved in her direction. Sally went to join
them.

‘Morning, you two. Sorry I was in such a state last night but it was such a nightmare journey. I never thought I would make it.’ Sally had, indeed, had a terrible time yesterday.
Having fallen asleep as the train sped through the Cotswolds, she was rudely awakened by a very loud announcement that due to works on the line, the train was delayed. Sally was not particularly
bothered as she had all day, so she decided to find the buffet car and get herself some supplies. To her horror there was a queue right down the train! Thirty minutes later she arrived at the
counter only to find there was nothing left except crisps and water or wine.

‘I’ll have a white wine and a packet of plain crisps, please.’ She took her meagre purchases back to her seat and gazed out of the window. It had started to drizzle, and the
landscape was definitely no longer as pleasant. She could see two huge concrete silos in the distance, and smoke was billowing from giant chimney-stacks on the other side of the tracks, sending
great white fluffy clouds into the grey mass of sky above. Like daubs of paint on a palette, she thought. Further announcements came and went, until two and a half hours later the train squealed to
life and shuddered forward slowly, finally gathering speed – but not for long. Thirty minutes later the voice of doom announced from the Tannoy in a fine Black Country burr that, ‘This
train will shortly be stopping at Rugby. Would passengers please alight and wait on Platform Three for the next train to Crewe.’

By the time the train had spat them all out, the passengers were mutinous, but there was no one to complain to, so they fell back on each other. Sally escaped to the waiting room and found a
corner seat. It was now mid-afternoon and she could see her whole day disappearing fast. She wondered if there was any way she could warn Janie and Peter that she would be late. If they decided to
go out she was completely snookered, as she had no keys. But they had no phone in the digs, as she remembered. Maybe she could ring Gladys at the stage door – but then what could
she
do? No, Sally did not want to cause trouble so early in the day; she would just trust to luck. Hearing a commotion, she looked out to see a group of irate passengers accosting a guard. She went to
the door of the waiting room and opened it to listen to his excuses.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,
please
let’s have some calm. We are doing our best to make alternative arrangements for your onward journey. Would you kindly make your way to the
ticket office where my colleague will give you details of your onward transport.’

This sounds ominous, thought Sally. She gathered up her things and joined the crowd as they crossed the platform over the bridge to the ticket office. After waiting in the queue, she finally
made it to the grille where a very harassed-looking lady was taking down information.

‘Destination?’ she enquired curtly.

‘Crewe, please,’ replied Sally.

‘Right, there will be a coach outside here in forty-five minutes to take you to Crewe. Sorry for any inconvenience.’

‘How long will the journey take, do you think? I am not from round here, and I have no idea where I am really.’ Sally tried to smile her way into the woman’s affections.

‘Oh dear, well, this is Rugby so if the traffic is OK on the motorway you should be there in an hour and a half. Here’s your ticket. Good luck, love.’ Her parting shot to Sally
came with an attempt at a smile.

Great, thought Sally. I am not going to get to my digs much before eight o’clock tonight.

In fact, she arrived on the doorstep of her new home at seven thirty, and almost burst into tears of relief when her knock was answered, and Janie was standing there.

‘Goodness – we thought you must have got lost!’ the other girl cried.

‘I am so sorry, but I couldn’t ring you, could I?’ replied Sally as she practically fell through the door with her bags. ‘I have been on a train or a coach since ten
o’clock this morning. Great British Rail, how do they manage it?’

‘You poor girl. Here, let me take your bags and you go and sit by the fire with Pete. I expect you’re starving. We have only got the basics in so far, but I can make you some cheese
on toast and a cup of tea or a hot chocolate.’

‘Oh, that sounds like heaven,’ sighed Sally. ‘Thank you so much. Hello, Pete, nice to meet you.’ She leaned down to take Peter’s hand but he politely jumped up.

‘Sally, welcome. It is lovely to meet you too. What a bummer, eh? Still, you are here now, and Janie will have you settled in before you know it. She is a real mother hen, and I
can’t believe I have been so lucky to find her. She rules my life!’ They sat down and let Janie fuss around them. Sally felt instantly at home, and the day’s woes faded fast as
she ate her cheese on toast and wrapped her hands around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

‘Have you got any idea what happens tomorrow morning?’ she asked Peter. ‘I am actually ASM, small parts and understudy so I am expecting to be in early doing chores,
unfortunately.’ She grinned. ‘Not like you, Pete – a proper actor.’

‘Now, we are not having any distinctions between stage management and artistes in our company. We are all in it together, aren’t we, sweetheart?’ Peter grabbed Janie’s
hand as she stood beside him and pulled her onto his lap. She let out a squeal of delight.

‘Oh yes definitely, we are all in it together.’ She giggled and wrapped her boyfriend’s hands around her. ‘I have every intention of getting myself a small part in some
of the plays as well as making the costumes,’ she announced. Then: ‘Stop that, you wicked boy! Sorry, Sally, but he is very naughty.’ She turned on his lap and kissed him full on
the lips.

Sally took this as her cue to go to bed. ‘Good night, guys. I will leave you to it. I need to get to the theatre tomorrow for nine, so I will creep out and see you there later. Thanks for
the lovely welcome.’ She made her way upstairs and left the lovebirds clasped in each other’s arms. They hardly seemed to notice Sally’s exit.

Her little room looked so cosy as she opened the door. Dear Janie had made up her bed and put a bulb in the lamp for her. The curtains only just made it across the window but it was only a
temporary home, so it didn’t matter for now. She found her wash-bag and made her way to the bathroom. There was a gorgeous smell of lavender from a candle burning in a saucer on the edge of
the bath. Sally would have loved a long soak but decided to wait until she had got the feel of the place and how everything worked. She cleaned her teeth and had a quick wash, then fell into her
little bed and was asleep in moments.

‘Sally, are you there? Come in, Houston?’ Heather broke through Sally’s reverie. ‘Can you make some drinks, please. Our leading actors have
arrived.’

‘Sorry, Heather, I was miles away. No problem – I am on it.’ Sally crossed the stage and took note of two larger-than-life people standing centre stage.

‘Percy, my darling boy, take my bag.’ The voice belonged to a large-bosomed lady with lots of jewellery swathing her ample chest. Her head was decked with a turban of exotic
material. The make-up was thick but immaculately applied, and the nails were long and scarlet.

‘Miss Delamaine?’ enquired Sally. ‘Can I get you a tea or coffee? I am Sally Thomas, one of the ASMs this season.’

‘Oh hello, dear, how kind of you to ask. Yes, a white coffee with a sweetener, if possible. There should be some around from last season. If not, I have some in my bag. And do we have
biscuits, or have there been cut-backs already?’ She laughed and looked around for a response from her audience. Sally obliged with a chuckle and Percy let out a snort.

‘Peggy, you are a card! How do you do, dear? I am Percival Hackett, leading man to Miss Delamaine’s leading lady. I would like a strong white tea, please, and a glass of water for
the meeting.’ With that he turned with a flourish and made his way to the centre seats.

Sally went to the wings and prepared the refreshments as requested. She couldn’t find any sweeteners but she put a selection of the biscuits onto a separate plate for her ‘leading
actors’ and took them over.

‘Thank you, dear girl. Put them on the floor here, would you?’ Percy pointed to a spot and Sally obliged, thinking to herself that this could all end in tears. But time enough for
all that. First day, just be lovely and get through it, Sally.

There was a clap of hands and all went quiet. Giles Longfellow had taken centre stage and was preparing to address his company. Sally quickly crossed to the wings and fetched him a chair which
she placed to the side of him. He acknowledged the gesture with a quick smile then waved her away.

‘So, ladies and gentlemen – welcome, and let us begin.’

While Giles explained his plan of action, Sally sat at the edge of the semi-circle with pen and paper and, while taking the odd note, mostly concentrated on sizing up the
cast. Jeremy had seemed pleased to see her, although when Giles arrived he quickly made his excuses and went off to join him. Giles was deep in conversation with a rather handsome young man called
Robert, she discovered from Heather, the font of all knowledge.

‘That is Robert Johnson, an actor; he has been around a couple of years and done a bit of telly. I think he is a personal friend of Giles Longfellow’s as he came to work here last
season and then left. I think he was having a bit of a fling with Giles – don’t know much about him though.’