‘Someone shut that door!’ Reggie said.
‘It’s stuck!’ Joss was already trying to close the door.
Bridie sighed. ‘Leave it ajar. I don’t think anybody will notice. And besides, it could do with a bit of fresh air in here.’ The place smelt musty – and old.
Further inside, through double doors that led into the auditorium, rows of old velvet red seats sagged. Water had leaked through the roof, staining the ceiling in ominous brown blooms.
‘Bloody hell,’ Joss whispered appreciatively. ‘I can just imagine this theatre was quite something in its heyday.’
Imagine was right, thought Bridie. She swallowed. ‘It’s a bit worse than I thought.’
‘A bit?’ Thea said, looking at an usherette tray that would once have been brought out in the intermission stocked with ice-cream tubs, snacks and drinks for theatregoers. It was now full of nothing but dust and cobwebs.
For a moment they all stood there, silent, shining their phone torches around the theatre. Even Mabel and Marjorie, who rarely stopped talking long enough to breathe, were silent.
Then Bridie spotted a light switch near the door. On impulse, she reached over and flicked the switch.
The lights flickered, buzzed, groaned – and then, miraculously, came on. She had not expected that.
A cheer erupted, echoing off the water-damaged walls.
‘That,’ Oliver said, ‘is the most surprising thing I’ve seen all week.’
They all put their mobile phones back in their pockets and handbags.
Bridie let out a shaky laugh. Electricity. A good omen. A start.
The moment of optimism didn’t last long, though. The state of the building stared back at them from every direction – damp, decay, neglect. Years earlier, when they’d staged the school play in her final year of high school, it hadn’t seemed that bad, but in the intervening years since it had closed down again, the worsthad happened – water had penetrated the roof and had caused quite some damage. She’d expected a challenge, but this felt like a mountain. A big, mouldy mountain.
Hannah slid an arm around her shoulders. ‘We’ll figure out what to do.’
Bridie nodded, but panic curled in her chest. How? She didn’t know how to fix a leaking roof or restore a stage or – god help her – produce a play.
Before she could spiral, Mabel marched past her with a mop and bucket. She set it down. ‘Well,’ she declared, clapping her hands, ‘we’re not here to admire the mess.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Marjorie said. ‘I’ve never seen so much dust in one place. It’s practically an achievement.’
Mabel ignored her. ‘Rubbish first. Clear it, then we can take stock.’ She clicked her fingers at Reggie. ‘Why don’t you hand out the black bin liners, and we can all get cracking.’
Reggie unfurled the bin liners and did just that. Everybody took one and started picking up rubbish and debris strewn on and under the chairs, and up and down the aisles.
Everybody except Bridie. Despite the sisters’ encouragement, she stood rooted to the spot. She realised that she, Oliver and Jack probably weren’t the only ones who’d done some urban exploring, venturing into this abandoned theatre. The rubbish attested to that. And worse still, there was graffiti on the walls.
Reggie sidled up to Bridie. ‘Come on, pet. If we tidy up, and get rid of all the rubbish, it will be a start.’
But the start of what? Bridie raised her eyes to the ceiling. Were they going to climb up there and fix the roof next?
She lowered her eyes and focused on her new friend, who was trying his best to fill her with some confidence. It wasn’t working. She glanced at Mabel and Marjorie. ‘Since when did you take their side?’
He glanced at the sisters too, and whispered, ‘Ah, you’ve heard about our friendly rivalry.’
She’d heard it hadn’t always been friendly. She nodded all the same.
‘I’m actually impressed that two octogenarians feel up to the task of joining us this evening.’
Bridie smiled. She was too.
‘And you know, if they can put some elbow grease into it, then so can you.’
