‘Why is this chair on the wrong side of the stage?’ someone asked behind Bridie.
Bridie stood in the middle of it all, clipboard in hand, headset slightly askew, heart pounding so loudly she was sure other people could hear it. She had her costume on ready for the start of the show, but she was also making last-minute adjustments.
‘This is fine,’ she muttered to herself. ‘This is going to be absolutely fine.’
Jack appeared at her side, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, holding a toolbox. He looked like he’d always belonged there. He’d slipped in quietly an hour earlier and simply startedhelping. Fixing a loose hinge. Replacing a blown bulb in the wings. Calming nerves with the same steady competence he brought to everything.
‘You’re pacing,’ he said gently.
‘I am not pacing,’ Bridie replied, immediately realising she was.
Jack hissed, ‘Why is the crate centre-stage? It was definitely off left earlier.’
Bridie’s head snapped up. ‘What?’
They all turned to look. The crate – a crucial prop – had indeed migrated.
She groaned. ‘Jack. If this is you having a joke with me after I accused you of sabotage—’
Jack held up both hands. ‘Bridie. I swear on my life, I haven’t touched a thing.’
The lights flickered, just once.
A ripple of unease moved through the backstage crew.
Bridie closed her eyes. ‘Okay. That’s not funny.’
Jack’s jaw tightened. ‘It’s not me. I’ll get an electrician back in tomorrow.’
She studied his face and saw only concern there.
‘But the show – it’s not tomorrow, it’s now!’ She could hear the low murmur of audience in the auditorium behind the stage curtain.
‘Let me take those now,’ Jack said, lifting the clipboard out of her hands and carefully taking the headset too.
‘All right,’ she said, squaring her shoulders. ‘Places in ten everybody!’
Ten minutes later, she found herself alone in the narrow space beside the stage, costume rustling softly around her legs. Her mouth was dry. Her hands were shaking as she waited for her cue to join the other actors on stage.
This made no sense. She had stood on West End stages, under blinding lights, in front of critics who could destroy careers with a sentence. She had never felt like this.
‘Terrified?’ came a quiet voice.
Bridie turned. Isobel stood there calmly, elegant in a special outfit she’d worn to attend Bridie’s opening night. Her eyes were warm and knowing.
‘I don’t understand it,’ Bridie admitted. ‘I’ve done this my whole life.’
Isobel smiled gently. ‘Ah. But notthis.’ She gestured subtly toward the auditorium. Through a gap in the curtain, Bridie could glimpse the audience – every seat was filled. Familiar faces were everywhere. Shopkeepers. Children. Neighbours. Friends.
‘They’re not strangers,’ Isobel continued. ‘They’re your community. They’re all here for the same reason – to keep this place alive. You’re not just performing tonight, Bridie. You’re carrying something precious for all of them.’
Bridie swallowed. She could feel the weight of that responsibility on her shoulders. ‘If it fails … I’ll feel like I’ve let everyone down.’
Isobel took her hands. ‘And if it succeeds?’
Bridie met her gaze. ‘Then I want to do this forever. Produce shows here. Keep the theatre open, alive. This has to work.’
‘It will,’ Isobel said softly. ‘Because it’s yours.’
