Page 11 of The Typo

‘Just feeling my age a bit today, hen. I was up and down ladders yesterday, and I’m paying the price now.’

‘Busy doing DIY at home?’ I asked, knowing that it had been his day off.

‘Something like that,’ he said, not quite meeting my gaze. I wondered if he’d found himself a side hustle to lessen the uncertainty of his future. All the more reason for me to find a solution to our crisis. Malcolm was a stalwart of the Variety. He deserved to be the one to decide when his career here would end, rather than being forced out because of Ian’s mismanagement.

‘Where are you off to anyway?’ he asked, steering the conversation away from my query. ‘I thought you were tied to your desk with all the extra admin the boss is siphoning your way.’

‘You noticed?’

‘We’ve all noticed, hen, and some of us think it’s very unfair. But that’s Ian for you. All talk and no trousers. Don’t distract me. You haven’t answered my question.’

‘I’m off to inspect the Cellar Bar to see if it’s big enough to be suitable for an idea I’ve had.’

‘I seem to recall it being pretty vast, but in my experience, most things are smaller than our mind tells us they are, especially when you reach my age of seniority. Would you mind if I came along too? It’s been a while since I had a proper look in there. I remember the controversy when Ian’s dad had it converted. I was starting out in the profession at the time. The local historical society were up in arms about the desecration of the place, but when he pointed out that it was a choice between creating the bar and shutting down altogether, they suddenly went quiet. The wolf has never been far from the door of the Variety, that’s for certain.’

I’d not heard that segment of the Variety’s history before. It was interesting to note that there could be a precedent for my idea.

The door into the bar was stiff and it took some persistent shoving on both our parts to get it to open. Eventually it submitted to our efforts and creaked open wide enough for us to shuffle in sideways. The air inside was a little musty, but no bats came flying out in my face, and I couldn’t detect anything more sinister than the stale scent of lack of use. I felt around on the wall until I found the light switch, relieved I didn’t encounter any creepy crawlies during my search.

I flicked the switch, but nothing happened, which I suppose was hardly surprising given that the place had been locked up for so long. I got my phone out and shone the torch around the room. The orange and brown floral décor screamed the 70s, even though the posters on the wall revealed that the space must have been used until at least the mid 90s. There was a pile of chairs stacked up in the middle of the room, and various tatty cardboard boxes were spilling their contents onto the floor. But to my inexpert eye there was nothing which a good clean couldn’t sort out. Perhaps with some tidying up and better lighting, the old-fashioned surroundings could be repurposed as vintage, a classic marketing move to make the best of what we had.

‘Goodness, I’d forgotten some of the big names who came here in their early days,’ said Malcolm leaning down and fishing a programme out of one of the cardboard boxes. He blew the dust off the cover, making us both cough, then held it up next to his face, mimicking the moody expression of the performer on the front. ‘There’s probably a decent market online for some of these bits of memorabilia. Leonie’s a dab hand with that kind of thing. I’m sure she’d be happy to help flog them. Perhaps it could ease the cash flow problem.’

‘Maybe.’ I nodded. ‘Or we could keep them and use them as part of the attraction here. They’d help to complement the vintage vibe.’

‘What are you thinking about? Opening a mini museum in the basement? I hate to break it to you, hen, but that’s probably another saturated market in this city. Tourists are too used to getting into places like that for free, and much good that would do us.’

‘Can I sound you out about my idea? And before I say anything, it’s still very early days, and I definitely haven’t considered any of the details yet.’

‘Disclaimer heard and understood,’ said Malcolm.

‘As you said before, a big part of our problem is that we’re very limited by the programming we can put on. We only have the one auditorium, and that gets booked months in advance.’

‘True. And it gets booked by whatever bizarre act Ian thinks is going to be the next big thing, or by one of his old pals who should have changed professions long ago. Both of us know that he’s less of a tastemaker than he’d like to believe himself to be.’

‘So, what we really need is another space to try some alternative acts. By which I mean less alternative than the ones in the main auditorium. Open mic nights, writing groups,’ I hesitated, ‘musicians.’

Malcolm nodded. ‘I think I can see where you’re going here.’

I turned around on the spot, shining the torch beam once again on the unloved space. ‘If we diversify our events, then we can appeal to a broader range of people. It doesn’t take much for word of mouth to work its magic. Why not use this room for something more productive than being a dumping ground? It’s a good size. I reckon we could get fifty or so punters in here. Which, at the rate we’re going, is probably about forty-eight more than we’re going to get on a good night in the main auditorium.’

‘And there are some chairs going spare here already, so we wouldn’t have to invest much in infrastructure. A bit of a polish and a quick check to make sure they’re structurally sound, and they’ll be good to go, no problem.’ The fatigue had gone from Malcom’s voice as he expressed his enthusiasm for the idea. It was good to hear him sounding hopeful again.

I flashed the torch up to the broken light fitting on the ceiling.

‘What about the lighting? If we do this, we’ll have to create a proper studio theatre feel. We need to offer something more than a bog-standard community centre.’

Malcolm pursed his lips. ‘I can’t see it being a problem. We could set up some spotlights on stands in the corners, make a virtue of simplicity if you will. That kind of thing is all the rage. We have a couple of rigs in the store room which could work very nicely, so we wouldn’t have to hire in extra kit.’

‘The idea has potential then?’

Even though my instincts were telling me it did, the insecure part of me still needed reassurance.

‘I’d say so. Good on you, Amy. I’m glad we’ve got you fighting our corner. Now you just need to run the plan past the boss.’

That was going to be the biggest challenge of all.

From: [email protected]

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