Murder in the Second Row (9 page)

Centre stage,
the Boynton family was grouped round a low table with Simone
glowering at her fellow actors. The girl playing Ginevra was
agitatedly tearing a tissue into little pieces.

‘Ginevra, go
and rest, you’re tired.’ Simone’s sudden deep voice made even
Jessica jump, and the effect on Ginevra was painful to see.

‘I’m not really
tired, Mother. I’m all right.’

‘No, Ginevra,’
said Simone, sounding oddly pleased. ‘You’re going to be ill.’

‘No I won’t! I
will not be ill!’

‘Go to your
room and lie down.’

Tamara, playing
Nadine, offered to take Ginevra upstairs. ‘I’ll come up with you if
you like.’

Jessica saw
that Tamara’s eyes weren’t on Ginevra, but were looking offstage
instead. She’d bet good money that Nick was standing in the wings
making googly eyes right back at Tamara, enjoying the suggestion of
going upstairs to bed. Behind the hotel’s front desk, Stewart went
through the motions of lighting a cigarette for a guest.

A movement in
the auditorium caught Jessica’s attention. A tall thin woman who
she didn’t recognise was seated on the cross-aisle. She couldn’t
see the woman’s face, but she seemed to be following Tamara’s
movements with close attention. Jessica debated going down to see
who she was, but decided that if Adam hadn’t objected to her
presence then she wouldn’t interfere. Besides, Austin was seated in
the front row and could easily deal with her if the need arose. She
leaned back and watched more of the story unfold.

At the end of
the session Adam gave the cast a few notes, then handed over to
Clara-Jane for wardrobe fittings.

Austin stood
up, holding a small parcel, and called out to Tamara. She walked
downstage, squinting against the lights, and took it from him. She
tore off the wrapping and held up a garment on a hanger. It
unfolded, revealing a little white vinyl “naughty nurse” uniform,
complete with split-crotch fur-trimmed panties and a stethoscope.
She exclaimed in disgust, threw it back at him, and unleashed a
torrent of invective that sent Austin reeling, laced as it was with
obscenities that would have made even Billy Connolly blush. The
theatre’s excellent acoustics meant that her voice penetrated every
corner of the auditorium, leaving nobody in any doubt of her
feelings at Austin’s highly inappropriate costume suggestion.

‘You’re a
dirty, sleazy pervert!’ she screamed. ‘I bet you can’t even get it
up any more and this is the only thing that gives you a thrill.
Who’d want to screw you anyway, you filthy old goat! Go suck on
your own dick and I hope it chokes you!’

‘Tamara!’

A stern voice
from the auditorium stopped Tamara in mid-rant. She peered into the
darkness, shading her eyes.

‘Oh Christ,
that’s all I need.’ She spat out the words. ‘What the hell do you
want? Have you come to tell me what a bad and horrible person I am
again? Well, tell it to this guy instead, will you? He’s the one
being an asshole.’

She turned to
storm off stage but the thin woman called her back.

‘I want a word
with you please, Tamara. Right now!’

The authority
in her voice was strong enough to force the unwilling girl to obey.
Tamara flounced down the steps from the stage to the auditorium and
faced the woman square on. Tamara was rigid with anger, standing
perfectly still, while the other spoke calmly and quietly. Jessica
couldn’t tell what was being said, or even if Tamara was actually
listening.

Meanwhile, Adam
had taken Austin aside and was speaking to him very seriously.
Austin was nodding, looking subdued. A few more minutes and he’d be
ready to cry.

Jessica let out
a deep breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. Another
dramatic evening at the theatre – and the show hadn’t even opened
yet.

It was just as
well that Saturday dawned grey and damp with occasional showers
forecasted, otherwise Jessica might have been tempted to skip going
to the theatre in favour of going for a drive instead. On a sunny
day, a trip in her little white VW convertible to visit some
wineries or craft galleries would have been a much more appealing
prospect than spending yet another afternoon shut away in the dim
and dusty Regent.

Her first task,
before the cast arrived, was to pick up all the messy bits of
tissue left on the stage from Thursday night, muttering under her
breath about actors expecting the crew to clear up after them. Fair
enough when there was a performance, then the crew was responsible,
but this was just rehearsal and at this stage they shouldn’t even
be using props.

‘You all right
there, Jessica?’ asked Howard, walking across the stage on his way
to the workshop. ‘Happy talking to yourself?’

‘Yes thanks –
just badmouthing the actors again. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Hey, if you’re
free, would you give us a hand with this tent thing today?’

‘Sure. I’ve had
enough of watching rehearsals this week. Some sane company would be
great.’ She followed Howard into the workshop where he pulled out a
large roll of cream canvas.

‘This is the
material we’re using, and over there’s the tent design that young
Nathan came up with. He’s getting clued in to how a set works now,
so it should be fairly straightforward.’

She studied the
sketch, noting approvingly how Nathan had given side views as well,
and included outlines of each piece of fabric with the measurements
required.

‘Wow, he has
done well. We’ll have to keep him on.’

Gazza ambled
in, warming his hands on a mug of coffee. He grunted a greeting
even more taciturnly than usual.

‘Well, hi
there, big fella,’ Jessica chirped brightly. ‘Are we going to have
a swell time doing fun stuff today?’

He levelled a
look at her that would have daunted a lesser woman. She pulled a
face and laughed at him. ‘Are we a big grumpy bear this
afternoon?’

‘We feckin’
will be if you carry on like that. At least let me drink my coffee
first.’ He settled himself on a corner of the workbench and
sighed.

Jessica wisely
left him in peace and looked at the sketch again.

‘These scallops
along the edge of the awning – are we going to have to sew all
those?’

Howard looked
over her shoulder. ‘That will be a hell of a job, won’t it? We’d
probably need an industrial machine for it too. I wonder if any
place in town stocks them.’

Gazza glanced
over. ‘Glue the bastards,’ he said succinctly. ‘Then draw the
stitching on with a fine pen afterwards.’

‘Brilliant!’
exclaimed Jessica. ‘That must be damned good coffee, Gaz. I’m gonna
get me some of that. Do you want one Howard?’

‘Sure, if
you’re going – thank you. Better pull the side doors closed after
you so we don’t disturb the thespians. They’ll be getting started
any minute.’

She heaved the
thick double doors across, cutting the workshop off from the stage
area. She would come back through the Green Room by taking yet
another quirky set of stairs into the other end of the
workshop.

Entering the
kitchen, she saw that Simone had buttonholed Adam and was waving
her script with some agitation.

‘I really feel
that the line is open to misinterpretation!’ she insisted. ‘Look
here, where Jefferson says “I was afraid that the trip here might
knock you up completely.” I’m certain that the audience will laugh
at the very suggestion of my being “knocked up”. Don’t you
agree?’

Adam looked
over and caught Jessica’s eye which almost proved his undoing. He
struggled for a moment to keep a straight face, covering it by
coughing into his elbow.

‘Ahem. Excuse
me, Simone. Yes, I do see what you mean. It’s one of those
linguistic changes that we have to watch out for in these older
scripts. Well spotted! I’ll have him change the line to “knock you
out completely”. How does that sound?’

‘Very much
better,’ said Simone gratefully. ‘Thank you, Adam. I knew I could
rely on you.’

She sailed off
towards the stage, allowing Jessica and Adam to break into broad
grins.

‘We certainly
don’t want Simone to get knocked up, do we?’ giggled Jessica.

‘I can promise
you I’m definitely not volunteering to do it!’ Adam shook his head.
‘They never cease to surprise me, these actors. Once they have a
role, they’re the centre of the universe. Well, I’d better go and
make sure Simone doesn’t get knocked up in Act two Scene one.’

He sketched a
wave and disappeared through the stage door.

Jessica made
two mugs of coffee and headed back towards the workshop. At the top
of the stairs she paused, hearing Nick’s voice in the workshop
below. She didn’t want to run into him so she sat down out of sight
on the top step hoping he’d go away soon.

Howard was
giving him a hard time about his liaison with Tamara. ‘You’re stuck
with her now, son. Little Miss Limpet-lips won’t let you go till
she’s sucked you inside out.’

‘Don’t see a
problem with that, myself,’ put in Gazza.

She heard Nick
laugh self-consciously. ‘She is a bit of a handful. She wants me to
take her to the Moonlight Club tonight, but I don’t know if that’s
such a good idea. If I ran into any of my clients it might be a bit
embarrassing.’

‘Gee, Nick,
haven’t your clients seen you naked in a sauna before? You could
give them a flogging with birch twigs and score yourself a whole
new contract,’ Howard suggested.

‘Hey, get
Tamara to flog them, and you could name your own price, mate,’
Gazza offered.

Then Howard
called out, ‘Hey Jessica, where’s that coffee? Did you go to Brazil
to pick the beans?’

She stood up
quietly, took a few steps back, then came forward loudly down the
stairs into the workshop. She handed over one of the mugs.

‘Here you are,
Howard, no need to shout. Hi Nick.’

He acknowledged
her awkwardly.

She looked at
the three of them, standing there, looking as guilty as kids who’ve
drawn on the walls.

‘Well, it’s
Saturday night, boys,’ she said innocently. ‘What are you all doing
tonight? Nick?’

He looked
startled. ‘Me? Nothing, why?’

‘Nothing on a
Saturday night? That doesn’t sound like you, Nick. Isn’t the lovely
Tamara going to take you out for a nice healthy evening of folk
music and fat-free milkshakes?’

He shook his
head. Then did a double-take. ‘You were listening!’

‘To you lot
talking through your testes, yes.’

‘Ooh,’ said
Howard in a high voice. ‘Who’s testy now, dear?’

Nick edged
towards the stairs, a pink flush slowly fading from his cheeks.
‘I’ll see you around, guys. Goodbye Jessica.’

She couldn’t
quite read the expression on his face.

‘Jeez you’re a
tough woman, Jessica,’ said Gazza when Nick had left. ‘What are you
giving him a hard time for?’

‘I don’t know,
really. To see his reaction, I guess. Something seems off with the
way he picked up Tamara so fast, and I’m trying to get a feel for
what he’s thinking.’

‘And are you
any the wiser?’ asked Howard.

‘Nah. Not in
the slightest. What do you think, Gaz?’

‘Duh, me man.
Me not think with brain. Have woman good, not have woman bad. End
of story.’

‘Yeah, fair
enough.’ She stretched her arms wide and eased her neck from side
to side. ‘Man, I’m looking forward to a couple of days off. So glad
Adam will be away tomorrow and we can have the whole day free with
no rehearsal. Oh, we’re OK with construction, aren’t we Howard? We
don’t need to fit in a catch-up day, do we? Please say no, please
say no!’

‘No. So long as
we get this tent thing at least half done today. Let’s start
cutting it out, shall we?’

They laid out
the fabric on the workshop floor, in pencil they drew the outlines
according to the plan, and cut the shapes. An hour later they had
assembled the pieces using glue and staples, and Jessica had cut
out the scalloped edge for the awning. Two hours later and the
whole thing was standing on sturdy poles looking ready for an Arab
prince.

‘Brilliant!’
said Jessica. ‘Thank God for that. Now let’s get the hell out of
here and have a life, shall we?’

After making
sure there was nobody left backstage, they walked in single file
across the empty stage, their footsteps loud in the dark and
otherwise silent auditorium. Gazza was last one out, flicking off
the lights at the mains panel and turning the self-locking lock on
the inside of the door. He pulled the door shut.

‘See you on
Tuesday, then.’

‘Yep, have a
good day off tomorrow.’

‘See you,
bye.’

Sunday. At
last. The proverbial day of rest, and Jessica intended to do just
that. In fact if it hadn’t been for Jellicoe’s reproachful paw
dabbing at her face, she might have slept in until lunchtime. As it
was, she hauled herself out of bed reluctantly at 10.30 to dish out
the requested cat food and put the kettle on for a cup of
coffee.

Outside, the
day looked grey and dull. An ideal day for blobbing out at home,
catching up on housework, surfing the Net, and maybe watching a
movie for the evening’s entertainment. Jessica smiled to herself.
Her lifestyle certainly wouldn’t win her any prizes for riotous
living.

By the end of
the afternoon, she’d managed to get a respectable number of
domestic chores done, before slumping onto the sofa. The laundry
was clean, the ironing ironed and put away, the floors spotless,
the little house was pleasingly tidy. She thumbed through the TV
guide to see if there was anything worth watching that night or if
she’d need to hire a movie or two.

Her cell-phone
chirped quietly from the bedroom dresser. She hurried to pick it
up.