‘Really?’ Bridie said, watching two grown men competitively diving for the door to the auditorium like they were teenagers. As she approached the door, swinging back towards her, she heard the sound of their footsteps racing down the aisle towards the stage. She stepped inside in time to see them both holding out their arms, trying to bar each other’s way to the stage.
They collapsed in a heap on the stage floor, laughing.
She caught up with them, lying there staring up at the ceiling, and stood over them, hands on hips. ‘Really?’
They both grinned, and said in unison, ‘Yes, really.’
‘God – that took me back,’ said Jack, the first to stand up.
Oliver rose to a seated position to find Jack standing over him, holding out his hand. He looked as surprised as Bridie did.
Jack said, ‘Come on, don’t be an arse. I’m not going bite.’
Oliver lifted his arm and grabbed hold of Jack’s hand. A moment later they were standing facing each other. For a moment, Bridie wondered what they’d get up to next. She didn’t hang around to find out. ‘I’m going to use the powder room.’
The previous evening, while she had been picking up all the old letters and rubbish in the foyer while her friends cleaned the auditorium, she’d discovered the public toilets – a ladies and gents off the foyer. They were still in working order, which had come as a welcome relief after a couple of large coffees from Mabel and Marjorie’s flasks. The loos, like everywhere else, needed a thorough clean, but she didn’t mind that; she was just glad that the plumbing still worked and they had a water supply.
She’d just walked out into the foyer when she heard them. She turned around and listened at the door.
‘So, what are youreallydoing here, Jack?’
Bridie opened the door a crack. The question seemed to catch Jack off-guard. To Bridie’s surprise, he hesitated. She didn’t know why. He was there to start planning the restoration work.
Jack said, ‘I’m doing some estimates for the works on the leaky roof and the electrical work, getting a plan together – that sort of thing.’
Bridie nodded.
‘So,’ Oliver continued, ‘this so-called plan investing in the theatre – it’s not an excuse to see Bridie?’
Bridie was surprised by the question. She was even more surprised when Jack didn’t reply.
‘Your wife knows you’re here?’ Oliver continued.
‘Look, either lend a hand or … or go home, Oliver.’
Bridie saw Oliver fold his arms across his chest.
Jack said, ‘I often go and price jobs up after work. Running a business doesn’t stop at the weekend, you know.’
Oliver persisted, ‘But does she know you’re here – with Bridie?’
‘I don’t think that’s relevant.’
‘I don’t think your wife would agree with that sentiment.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I think you know very well, Jack.’
‘I’m married – remember?’
‘Happily married?’ Oliver asked.
‘That is none of your damn business.’
Bridie retreated from the door, having a feeling this conversation was not going to go good places. She turned for the loo just as Jack stormed through the door. He dumped a clipboard and pen in Bridie’s hands. ‘Sorry, I can’t do this with him here. He’s being an arse.’
She felt like asking her own questions:What are you really doing here, Jack? Did you gift me the theatre?She kept that to herself, although she did say, ‘I think you’re being an arse. He’s only trying to help.’
