LITMIR.BIZ

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man pulled a face. ‘There’s not a lot you can do really, is there? All the acts were allocated a time slot for a run-through and sound checks. It was tight as charity without people buggering about.’

      ‘And so you’re saying that we’ve missed it?’

      ‘Were you here at four thirty?’

      Helen felt sick but tried very hard not to let it show. ‘No. But –’

      ‘But nothing, sweetheart,’ said the man, tapping his clipboard. ‘You were down for a four thirty run-through and you weren’t here. End of story. All right? Mister Tully should have given you a copy of the new schedule. There’s nothing I can do about it now. So if you’d just like to move along there please. Female dressing room, first floor, room three.’

      She stared at him, refusing to budge. ‘Is there anyone I can talk to?’

      ‘No, now can you just move yourself? I’ve got a troupe of Eastern European acrobats unloading at the moment – all foreign – vich this and osky that, bloody nightmare making sure they’re who they say they are.’

      Helen glanced around. She couldn’t spot anyone who looked as if they were anything to do with the theatre management. ‘So what will happen now, then?’ she asked.

      ‘I’ll count them I suppose; it’s the best I can do under the circumstances.’

      Helen put her hands on her hips, her anxiety rapidly turning to anger.

      ‘I meant what will happen because we’ve missed the run-through. It wasn’t our fault.’

      The man shrugged. ‘Look, sweetheart, the resident sound man they’ve got here is really good: he’s wasted in a place like this if you ask me. But he probably took a guess at what you need from what you put down on your application form and set it up accordingly; to be honest he’s not often that far out.’

      The application form, thought Helen miserably, which was currently folded up in her handbag.

      ‘And there’s no one else I can talk to?’

      The man shrugged. ‘I don’t know. God, maybe?’

      At which point Helen caught sight of Charlotte further along the corridor. She was standing at the bottom of a flight of stairs, waving frantically. ‘Over here, Helen, here,’ Charlotte called.

      ‘Female changing –’ the man began.

      ‘I know, I heard you the first time,’ snapped Helen, pushing past him.

      ‘God, where on earth have you been? I was getting worried; where are the costumes?’ said Charlotte, all outrage and indignation as Helen hurried towards her. ‘I can’t believe you took so long. You knew I was waiting. Don’t tell me, Harry ended up having to park right down on the far end of the quay, didn’t he? I’m just glad I got out when I did. It’s complete madness here and it’s like a bloody cattle market upstairs. Have you been up there looking for me? I can’t believe this, how come there are so many people? It’s totally mad. And they’ve put everyone in together. I can’t even find anywhere to sit down. And the toilets are disgusting.’ Rant over, she looked Helen up and down. ‘So where are the costumes?’

      ‘Harry’s bringing them.’ Helen bit her lip, feeling a growing sense of panic. ‘He should be here in a minute.’

      Charlotte stared at her. ‘What’s the matter with you? You’re not still nervous about singing tonight, are you?’

      There was no point lying or beating about the bush. ‘No, it’s not that. The man down there who signed me in said that we should have been here at half past four; they must have changed the times, Charlotte. We’ve missed our sound checks.’

      Charlotte’s expression hardened up. ‘Don’t say that, Helen. You are kidding me, aren’t you?’ she snapped. ‘Tell me it’s a joke.’

      Helen shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. He said that the man I saw yesterday didn’t give me the right schedule.’

      ‘Oh for God’s sake. How could you be so bloody stupid?’ spat Charlotte. ‘How could you get the time wrong?’

      Helen wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. ‘I’m really sorry but it wasn’t my fault,’ she protested. ‘The man in the front office told me half past five. I wasn’t to know there was another schedule, was I?’

      ‘Are you serious? Of course it’s your fault. For God’s sake, Helen. You can’t do anything right, can you?’ Charlotte raged. ‘I mean, what does it take to get the bloody time right? What are we going to do now? I knew I should have got my dad to sort it all out. I just knew. He said you’d let me down. He did, you know. He said you’re a waste of space and that you’ll never amount to anything, that you’re just hanging on my coat-tails. Poor little Helen Heel. You’re going nowhere. You work in a toy shop for God’s sake. And you know what? He was right.’

      Helen stared at her. ‘What?’ she gasped. It felt as if someone had punched her. ‘Your dad said that about me? When did he say it?’ She spluttered, ‘He’s always been nice to me. Is that what he really thinks?’ Not that Charlotte heard her or had finished with her stream of venom.

      ‘I can’t believe you, I really can’t. Trust you to spoil my big chance, Helen. You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Didn’t you?’ Charlotte continued furiously. ‘You’re just jealous, aren’t you? And you’ve always been jealous of me. Haven’t you?’ she shouted.

      People were staring at them.

      ‘Of course not.’ Helen stammered. She’d always known that Charlotte had a short fuse but this was something different. She was totally stunned by the fury of Charlotte’s outburst.

      ‘I’m going to go and ring my dad; I’m just hoping he’ll be able to sort something out,’ Charlotte said, and stormed off back upstairs. ‘He wouldn’t have let this happen if he had been here,’ she shouted over her shoulder.

      Which was the moment that Harry arrived.

      ‘Hello,’ he said, hurrying down the corridor towards Helen. He was soaked, his curly blonde hair slicked down over his face, his jacket dark with rain, but at least he was smiling. Helen had never been more pleased to see a friendly face in her life. He’d got their costumes on hangers, slung over one shoulder, a makeup box tucked under one arm and a holdall in the other hand.

      ‘There you are,’ he said with a grin. ‘Thank God I found you. Busy, isn’t it? I had one heck of a job getting past that little squirt on the reception desk. Who does he think he is?’ He paused. ‘What’s the matter? Are you okay?’ he asked.

      ‘No,’ Helen spluttered and burst into tears. ‘No, I’m not.’

      Harry looked aghast. ‘What’s the matter? Here, let me put these down. Don’t cry – what is it?’ he said, putting his arm around her.

      Helen, feeling stupid, struggled to compose herself and tried to explain between sobs what had happened. ‘Charlotte is furious,’ she said finally. ‘But I didn’t do it on purpose, I’m not like that, you know that, Harry. It was a mistake. I only passed on what the man told me yesterday at the box office.’

      ‘I know,’ said Harry, handing her his handkerchief. It was neatly ironed into a sandwich-sized triangle and although slightly damp from the rain, smelt of washing powder and sunshine. Good old Harry.

      ‘I didn’t do it deliberately.’

      ‘I know you didn’t, and when she calms down so will Charlotte. Here, you stay there and look after the costumes and the rest of the things and I’ll go and see what I can do.’

      ‘Charlotte’s gone to ring her dad,’ said Helen.

      ‘Okay, well in the meantime I’ll see if I can talk to someone, see if we can’t sort something out.’

      ‘Really?’

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