Go on the hunt for the Fankled production team and see if she could bribe them with the box of caramel shortcakes that were still in her backpack to give her a preview of the Netflix documentary they’d be watching in just a few hours. She’d decided bribing the audition panel at the theatre wouldn’t have been wise. But a busy TV crew? Worth a try. Extra cakes if she actually made the cut and could be seen in any kind of impressive professional capacity.
Once they’d all got past the impenetrable security system, otherwise known as Sandra’s clipboard, Ginny bid farewell to Moira, Jessie and Georgie, who all headed off to the theatre to check out the set-up for tonight, while she made a beeline for the staffroom. She’d just got to the swing doors that led to the area of the old church that housed the canteen, staffroom and offices when she realised that the person in front of her, holding the door open, was a familiar face in an unfamiliar outfit.
‘Wow, Netta, you look like something out ofBreakfast At Tiffany’s.’ Ginny wasn’t just saying that out of flattery. Netta’s stunning yellow dress had wide straps over the shoulders that then came down to a narrow bodice, before flaring out and dropping to her mid-calf. She’d paired it with kitten heels and a yellow, boxy, retro handbag that Ginny was almost positive was genuine vintage. ‘That dress is gorgeous. Have you been out somewhere nice?’
‘No, nowhere special. I just thought I’d make a bit of an effort since it’s a special day for you all.’
‘Aw, thank you. But you do realise it could all go horribly wrong, and the cameras could have caught me spreading gossip. Or discussing my smear test. Or there was that time I went the whole day and no one told me my skirt was tucked into my knickers. And they weren’t even decent ones. Urgh, that still makes me shudder.’
Netta laughed and Ginny thought how nice that was to see. Netta was one of her favourite people in the Academy team. She was calm. Serene. One of those women that you say hello to and an hour later you’ve told her all your problems and you’re already planning to buy her a present for Christmas.
Other than the fact that her son was Blair, the bloke that did all the electrical work in the building, Ginny didn’t know too much about her life, though, because she was also one of those quiet souls who preferred to listen than share their stories. She also veered away from the dramatic, and in this place – given the naturally extroverted, theatrical nature of the students and staff – there weren’t too many others like that.
‘I was going to come and find you to hear how the audition went,’ Netta said. ‘I bet you were wonderful.’
No, there wasn’t a person within a hundred-yard radius that didn’t know Ginny was auditioning forJudas – The Traitortoday. Her natural anxiety and need to overshare had caused her to discuss it with everyone she’d met since the moment the audition had been confirmed. The blokes that emptied the Academy’s wheelie bins would probably be on the phone for an update before the night was out.
Ginny was about to suggest that they go and grab a coffee so she could tell Netta all about it, when Ollie came out of Moira’s office. ‘Hey, can I have a word?’
Netta took that moment to excuse herself. ‘I’ll leave you to it. But I do want to hear how you got on.’
‘Thanks, Netta. I’ll come and find you later for a cuppa.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ With that, Netta walked off in the direction of the canteen, the flared skirt of her yellow dress swooshing as she went.
Ginny turned her attention to a very serious-looking Ollie, following in his trail of doom as he went back into Moira’s office. Aw bugger. Had the electrics in the sound studio blown again? They’d done that twice last week and Blair had been called out two days in a row. Not that he minded. Netta always made sure all the tradesmen that worked here were kept fully caffeinated and fuelled by her home-made shortbread, and her son was no exception.
As soon as she closed the office door behind her, he got straight to the point. ‘Ginny, have you spoken to Stevie today?’
‘Yes, your highness…’ She occasionally gave Ollie an official title when they spoke and it usually made him laugh. When she’d called him His Holiness in a Zoom meeting last week, he’d almost spat out his cappuccino. Not today though. Today he remained completely stony-faced. Oh shit, something was definitely wrong. ‘But only by text. She sent me a message this morning to say good luck in my audition. Thanks for your message too, by the way. I appreciated it.’
‘Oh shit, your audition! Sorry. My first question should have been how did it go?’
‘Fine, but we can talk about it later because if I think about it now, I’ll go down a deep hole of doubt and insecurity that I’ll need a ladder to get out of.’
Even in the face of her usual inane chat, his way-too-handsome visage was displaying something between fear and deep concern that immediately sent Ginny’s flair for the dramatic into overdrive. Was Stevie missing? Kidnapped? Somehow that seemed more likely than a lovers’ tiff or a miscommunication because Ollie and Stevie were couple goals. If Stevie was having an audition for the role of her life, Ollie certainly wasn’t frigging showing up late.
No, it wouldn’t be a problem in their relationship. Had to be something else.
‘Is everything okay? I mean, I can see that it isn’t. Is there something I can do?’
Ollie ran his fingers through his wavy hair in clear exasperation.
‘I don’t know. Unless, that is, you can tell me why she’s just dumped me?’
Oh shit. Shit. Shit.
‘No! I mean, I have no idea. Where is she? Is she at home?’
Ollie slumped against the wall, while Ginny made a quick calculation. Almost four o’clock. Stevie lived half an hour away. She needed to be back here by six o’clock latest for all the pre-show preamble. It was tight but doable. And even if it wasn’t, she’d do it anyway, because Stevie was a pal and there must be something seriously wrong for her to do this.
Ginny hitched her backpack up on to her shoulder.
‘Leave it with me. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fixable.’
Today, she’d already mediated the tension between Jesus and Judas, so sorting out Stevie and Ollie should be a piece of cake.
Shouldn’t it?
