An Awfully Big Adventure by Beryl Bainbridge Page B

it.’
    ‘I despair,’ said Bunny. He actually looked as though he did.
    A young woman came in from the booking-hall trailed by a ragged child, its legs pocked with the marks of vermin. Beneath a man’s jacket the woman wore a gaudy satin slip streaked at the hem with blood. Meredith clapped his hand over his nostrils.
    ‘If I could,’ said Bunny, only slightly smiling, ‘I’d take you away from all this.’
    Stella had run all the way on her errand to the Post Office; rather than let Meredith down she would have dropped in her tracks. She was quite composed copying the address onto the telegraph form, but when she came to the words: Am in Hell. Does ten years count for nothing? You must ring. Reverse charges. Devotedly Meredith , she experienced such a choking sensation of jealousy – she thought it must be like parachuting from an aeroplane, in that she couldn’t breath and the world dropped away – that she scrumpled up both scraps of paper and flung them into the metal basket beneath the counter.
    She was half way up Stanley Street before she recovered and her heart stopped sinking in her breast. She retraced her steps just as swiftly, only to find the wastepaper basket had been emptied. Fetching another form, she wrote: Don’t bother to telephone. Will not accept reverse charges. Yours Meredith . She gave the money for the words not used to a boy with ringworm throwing stones at a cat on a wall.

5
    The cast was allowed onto the stage five days before the opening night of the season. Meredith apologised for the delay. A leak had developed in a portion of the roof above the flies; there was still a slight pinking of water-drops splattering behind the flats of the living-room set. Rose was suing the builders.
    The actors, now they had the use of the theatre, grew noticeably more confident. Dawn Allenby presented Richard St Ives with an oil-painting of a bull in a tortoiseshell frame which had caught her eye at the back of a butcher’s stall in St John’s Market. It had been a bargain because the butcher was thinking of throwing it out in favour of a signed photograph of Field Marshal Montgomery. St Ives, while agreeing with Dotty that Freud might have something to say about the choice of subject, was rather taken with the gift. In return Dotty, on his behalf, bought Dawn Allenby a pot plant to which was wired a card saying: ‘To Dawn, with great affection from Richard and Dorothy.’
    The ‘stopping rehearsal’ of Dangerous Corner began at ten o’clock on Monday morning. Not until twelve o’clock, by which time no more than five minutes of the drama had been enacted, did Stella understand the meaning of the phrase. She hadn’t known the lighting would play such an important part. Bunny, wearing a knitted Balaclava and carrying a clip board, called out commands to the chief electrician in a voice muffled with pain. Geoffrey said he had complained earlier of toothache. There was some trouble with the follow-spot attached to the balcony rail of the upper circle. Then a whole bank of dimmers on the switchboard unaccountably fused.
    Sometimes the actors went back up to their dressing-rooms for an hour at a stretch while she and Geoffrey stood in for them, posing languidly at the fireplace or leaning back on the settee, twirling empty wine glasses. Behind them a young man with a paint-flecked beard followed the designer about the set, twitching the hem of the velvet curtains hung at the window and rearranging the ornaments on the mantelpiece. Twice, when Meredith ordered ‘Two steps stage left’ and Geoffrey moved to the right, Meredith came bounding down the centre aisle shouting ‘Left, left, ducky’ and leapt onto the apron to seize him by the shoulders and shove him into place. Stella was torn between getting it right and being manhandled by Meredith. Geoffrey was also in charge of the effects record on the Panatrope; he was better at that than moving about the stage.
    The prop-room became crowded with