Bridie eyed him. He was ignoring her remark, getting straight down to the business at hand. Perhaps it was for the best. The contract was signed. He was tied into fixing up her theatre. Now there was no backing out – on either side. She suddenly, inexplicably, felt nervous. She looked at Jack. Had she done the right thing?
Bridie dismissed her unease and cast her eyes up to the ceiling. ‘I know,’ Bridie said quickly. ‘I’ve already—’
‘And the electrics will need a full inspection. I’d be surprised if they’re even still working.’
‘They are,’ she said. ‘We checked.’ She thought again of her friends from Cobblers Yard.
Jack nodded, barely acknowledging her, moving on, pointing, planning. ‘Seating will need stripping out. The floor’s uneven. You could level it, or—’
‘Or keep it,’ Bridie interrupted. ‘It doesn’t need to be perfect.’
Jack stopped and turned to her. ‘It does if you want people to actually come. It will need to be levelled.’
‘All right, but I want to keep the seating. I know some are broken, and need repairing, and some have ripped fabric …’
Jack stepped forward. ‘Do you trust me on this?’
‘Well, yes, but—’
‘Good. Let’s move on.’
There it was. The first crack.
She took a breath and didn’t follow.
He paused and turned around halfway down the centre aisle when he realised she wasn’t following. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t want a glossy, soulless box. I want it to still feel like a theatre, anoldtheatre vibe after the revamp. I want a restoration,nota renovation.’
She knew the wordsrestorationandrenovationwere pretty much interchangeable, but she knew what she meant – and the look on Jack’s face said he knew what she meant too. She was referring to his business model of tearing down old places and putting newbuilds in their place.
The last thing she wanted was for Jack to plough ahead, gutting the theatre, ripping out all its lovely old features. She hadn’t thought to check Jack was on the same page before she signed the contract.
Jack’s jaw tightened slightly. ‘I’m thinking about public safety, Bridie.’
‘Okay, I get that. I do. But why can’t the two go hand in hand? When was the last time you went to a London theatre? They are so beautiful.’
‘I don’t go to the theatre,’ he said coldly.
‘Not ever?’ she said, taken aback.What is with people,she thought,not wanting to go to the theatre, and have that wonderful experience of seeing a production live on stage?
‘I suggest you go.’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Well, at least have a look at the old West End theatres online. Then you’ll see what I mean.’
Once again, Jack ignored her. He continued down the aisle, gesturing as he spoke, confidence radiating from him. ‘You open this place to the public, you’re responsible. Slips, trips,insurance claims. You can’t run a project like this on vibes and nostalgia.’
She knew what this was about; it would cost more to restore what was already there rather than just ripping it out and starting again.
She followed him, irritation prickling. ‘And you can’t reduce everything to profit margins and square footage.’
He stopped near the stage, turned back. ‘Who said anything about profit?’
Bridie eyed him. ‘So, what are you investing for, if you don’t think the theatre will turn a profit?’ Bridie knew this was a leading question. Although she’d been surprised that he’d produced a contract, she was still wondering if he was the one who had gifted her the theatre. What other reason would he have for doing all this? When was he going to tell her the truth?
She waited for his response.
