Page 20 of A Village Theatre Murder

‘Take it from me. Roger is going to press ahead. He’s atruetheatre man. Like me. Takes one to know one. He won’t want to close the show. He’ll get it back on stage. It’ll take abitof a rejig, but it won’t be like starting from scratch. He only has to move one or two of the actors around, and there’s the matter of making sure they know the lines…’

He broke off, looking dreamily into the distance, squinting his eyes dramatically for the benefit of the mythical casting director, who was doubtless behind a tree, looking for his new leading man.

‘I suppose we will find out any moment now, because here comes Roger. That’s his car, if I’m not mistaken,’ said Julia, watching the grey sedan reverse nimbly into a parking space. She felt quite disappointed with herself. This conversation with Hector had been pointless, and rather annoying.

‘And of course this time round, there will be less friction.’Hector nodded as he said this, as if agreeing with his own astute observation.

This was more like it. Julia put on what she thought of as her interested-and-open-to-listening face. She decided to act as if this was the first she had heard of any tensions.

‘I didn’t even know there was any friction. It all looked quite friendly to me.’

‘On thesurface, maybe. It was all behind the scenes. Graham was second-guessing Roger’s directorial direction. Questioning his creative decisions,’ Hector spoke in an undertone, his eyes on Roger Grave, walking towards them. He sniffed. ‘Really, veryamateurishbehaviour. Even my Troilus thinks so.’ Julia wondered why Hector’s son’s thoughts on this were of any relevance, but said nothing. She knew from previous experience that it was very easy to tip Hector into a soliloquy about the long-ago choosing of Troilus’s name – a process fraught with Shakespearean dilemmas, it seemed – and she didn’t want to risk this happening again. But Hector was in any event in full flow about the show.

‘They wouldn’t stand for that sort of thing on aprofessionalproduction. Anyway, it’ll be much calmer now, I do believe. Not that we would have wished thistragicoutcome on anyone,of course.’

Hector stopped talking to jump off the wall and greet Roger Grave with a forceful, ‘Goodmorning, Herr Direktor!’ Heaven knew why he was addressing the man in German.

He shot out a hand to grab Roger’s leather briefcase. ‘Might I help you with your valise?’

Roger pulled the case towards his chest, looking quite alarmed at the approach.

Hector gave up his quest for control of the briefcase, but took up a position shoulder to shoulder with the director. Well, it would have been shoulder to shoulder, were it not for the fact that Roger’s shoulder was about a foot higher than Hector’sshoulder, due to the two men being on opposing sides of the height scale.

The awkward moment was relieved by the arrival of Dylan from one direction, and Gina from the other. They followed Roger across the prettily landscaped gardens to the hall. Guy, Nicky and Tabitha arrived moments later. They certainly were a prompt lot, for which Julia was grateful. There was no sign of Oscar. Julia wondered if he would even come to the meeting. She wouldn’t blame him if he couldn’t face coming back to the hall, and the stage. Or to the group. She’d be surprised to see him, frankly.

Roger led the group to the hall. They stopped, as if by some silent instruction, and surveyed the empty hall and the stage, across which the curtains had been drawn. The crime scene paraphernalia had been removed and the trauma scene cleaners had been in to do their grisly and necessary work. Other than a faint whiff of cleaning products, there was nothing to indicate that just days ago there had been a death on the premises. Still, it felt strange. The group fell silent. Even Hector. Tabitha caught Julia’s eye and they exchanged a small sad smile, each recognising the heft of the moment, and sending a comforting glance to the other.

By unspoken agreement the group avoided the stage and gathered in the back corner of the hall, each pulling a chair from the stacked piles that had been cleared from the space after Saturday’s performance. They arranged themselves in an imperfect circle. Roger took the floor. As he stood up to speak, Oscar slunk in the door. He looked about twenty years older than he had a week ago. His head sank into his slumped shoulders. He nodded to the group, who gave their welcomes in a warm, if rather subdued way.

‘Sorry,’ he said miserably, taking the chair next to Julia. His leg jiggled nervously up and down, up and down, poor man.

‘Welcome, Oscar,’ Roger said kindly. ‘Thank you all forcoming. I know it’s been a sad and difficult time for everyone, and for you especially, Oscar. I am very much aware that you have all lost a colleague, a fellow actor, a friend.’

They all nodded, solemnly, and there were a few muttered acknowledgements.

‘Clearly, we cannot continue with this run here at the village hall.’

Nicky gave a dramatic full-body shudder and shrieked, ‘Lord in heaven, I get the absolute shivers just thinking about being back on stage here again!’

Hector blurted, ‘But what about…?’

‘You were here, Hector!’ Nicky exclaimed. ‘My word, have you forgotten the sound of…’

Roger held up his hand, and they both fell quiet.

‘We won’t be back here. There is an amateur dramatics festival in Cheltenham in three weeks’ time. The judges for the Best Regional Amateur Production will be there. In acknowledgement of our loss, and as a kindness to us as fellow dramatists, the organisers have offered us a place on the programme. My question today is whether we want to accept this generous offer, and whether we can recast and get the play ready by then. I’m not here to pressure anyone. We are a group, and we must decide together.’

It really was astonishing how different Theatre Director Grave was from Regional Superintendent Grave of the British police. The former being a big improvement on the latter, in Julia’s opinion.

The cast and crew looked from one to the other, each hesitant to speak first.

‘Should we go round in a circle, let everyone have a say?’ Julia suggested.

Roger nodded. ‘Good idea, thank you. Why don’t you start, Julia?’

‘Well, I must say, I was dead set against continuing with theshow when I imagined it being staged here at the village hall. But it does seem different, being at another venue, for a different audience. I think I would consider it, if that was the will of the group.’

Tabitha, sitting beside her, spoke next. ‘I don’t like the idea at all. I don’t think I would feel comfortable acting in the play, if I was one of the performers, but I’m not. So maybe it’s more for the actors to say.’

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