Page 5 of A Village Theatre Murder

Nicky screamed, a high, ear-splitting shriek.

Lights out. The stage went black. The curtains closed, muffling the sound of Nicky’s screaming.

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‘Well, that was rather well done,’ said Sean. ‘A very dramatic ending. What an excellent story, Tabitha. I’m most impressed.’

‘Heavens, Nicky could break glass with that scream,’ Tabitha said with a shudder. The screaming had gone on a bit even after the house lights went up, which was rather too long for Julia’s taste. It was probably one of those modern drama things, like breaking the fourth wall or whatever it was called.

‘Shall we have a quick one at the Topsy Turnip before we go home?’ Julia said, turning to her companions, as they gathered their coats and bags .

‘I’d be up for that,’ Tabitha said.

‘Good idea,’ said Sean, looking at his watch. ‘It’s early yet.’

‘Attention!’ came a booming voice from the stage. It was Roger Grave, standing in front of the curtains looking very – well, grave. ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’

Everyone in Berrywick knew that Sean O’Connor was a doctor, and the people standing around near them turned to him expectantly. He was already on his feet, his face serious. Julia stood to let him pass. ‘Coming through,’ he said, briskly, pushing his way into the aisle.

‘Clear the aisle! Move to the back exit,’ shouted Roger from the stage. He was clearly agitated. ‘Let Dr O’Connor through!’

The audience pushed and squeezed out of Sean’s path, some scurrying to the rear of the hall. The few who couldn’t get out of the way stood to the sides of the aisle.

‘Oh, I hope this doesn’t slow Graham down. He promised he’d be right out. We have things to talk about,’ Jane said, as much to herself as to anyone, before fully taking on the broader issue at hand. ‘I mean, I hope everyone’s all right. It sounds like somebody has had a bad turn. I wonder who…Goodness, you don’t think it’s him, do you?’

Julia turned to address her in the row behind. Jane was short and plump, with warm brown eyes that reminded Julia rather of a woodland animal. ‘It’s all right, Jane. Whoever it is, it’s probably just the heat.’

‘Or the nerves. You know, being on stage and all,’ said Tabitha. ‘Or a sprained ankle, or something.’

Sean had reached the stage now and was ascending the steps.

The hall was clearing rapidly. Julia, Tabitha and Jane were some of the last left. ‘I’m going to go up and find Graham,’ said Jane.

‘I’ll come with you.’ Julia rather surprised herself when she said it. She wasn’t sure why she felt she had to go. Nonetheless, she took Jane’s arm and the two women walked together towards the stage, Tabitha following close behind. As they approached the stage, hands yanked the stage curtains apart to admit Sean, and there was no mistaking what Julia saw in that brief moment. There was someone lying on the stage, just the midsection of his torso visible, a glimpse of a midnight-blue velvet jacket. An arm lying limp on the floor. A pale hand showing from the blue velvet sleeve. Graham.

Hands yanked the curtains shut, but it was too late. Jane had seen what Julia had seen. Jane’s legs seemed to give wayand Julia only just kept her upright long enough to stagger to the steps leading up to the stage and sit her down.

‘Is he all right?’ Jane asked Julia quietly, her brown eyes wide and glistening, her expression one of confusion. ‘He must be all right. We need to go home now. Please tell Sean to get him up. He must stop this nonsense. We must be going. We need to…’

‘I’ll go and speak to Sean. Stay here with Tabitha.’

Tabitha sat down next to Jane and put her arm around the woman’s shaking shoulders. Julia went up the steps and opened the curtains just a crack, not wanting to expose Jane to another sighting of her husband. Sean wasn’t working on Graham’s body. There was no CPR, no pulse-taking that would help him now. He was clearly beyond all that. A ragged hole gaped in his chest, below the spotted cravat. The front of his blue velvet jacket was purple with blood. More blood seeped from under him, spreading slowly over the floorboards.

Oscar looked as if he might be the next to expire, so pale was he. The pistol was still in his hand, hanging limply at his side. Roger Grave approached him, saying, ‘I’m going to take the gun. Slowly now, don’t move. Keep it pointed at the floor.’ He reached out his right hand.

‘What happened…?It can’t…It’s only a prop…It wasn’t loaded. I mean, I couldn’t. It…’

‘All right then, steady on. I’m taking the gun.’ Roger Grave moved gently, slowly, as one would when approaching a skittish and dangerous animal. His voice was low. He gently took the pistol from Oscar’s hand.

Julia turned and looked back at Jane, who was waiting quietly with Tabitha, and stepped through the curtains onto the set. Sean was standing on the other side of Graham’s body, a mobile phone to his ear. He caught her eye, as he spoke into the phone: ‘…the village hall, on Main Street. Yes…Coroner, forensics. The whole lot, I imagine. I’ll tell them. Thank you.’

Sean turned to Roger. ‘I’ve phoned the Berrywick police. I thought, under the circumstances…I explained what happened. The accident. They are going to send a detective. And a van. And forensics.’

There was a moment of stunned silence in which everyone seemed suspended in shock and disbelief.

Julia broke the silence, addressing Roger: ‘Graham’s wife, Jane. She’s here, she was in the audience. She is waiting for news.’

‘There’s been an accident,’ Roger said, blankly. ‘A terrible accident.’

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