Page 37 of The Typo

Leonie pulled a face. ‘None of us are daft, Amy. We’ve all been talking about it. I’m dying to hear from the horse’s mouth how it’s going. How can I help?’

‘Really? Are you sure? Only you know what Ian is like changing his mind about stuff.’

She waved her arm, dismissing my concern. ‘We’re all practically serving out our notice anyway. It’s about time we had a bit of hope to cling on to.’

And so I told her all my grand plans for the Cellar Bar venue while she nodded with what I hoped was enthusiasm.

‘So, you’ve just got the lighting to sort? I’ll help you with that.’ She held up her hand, halting the interruption I was about to make. ‘Malcolm’s virtual assistance is all well and good, but no offence, I think you’ll probably need some support identifying the different kinds of lights. His storage system is a little random. Now do you mind if I try a mouthful of your chocolate orange cake? Feel free to dig into the lemon slice, it’s quite possibly the nicest thing I’ve ever eaten.’

And with that the conversation moved away from work and on to our favourite podcasts via an enthusiastic debate about dream holiday destinations. It was good to have a laugh and get to know a colleague better. I hoped it wouldn’t be a one off. But before I could spiral too much into the overanalysing—how do you ask somebody to be friends when you’re an adult?—Leonie looked at her watch.

‘Drat, is that the time? I’ve got to run and do the ice hockey pick up. I thought I was onto a winner because Seb isn’t into footy, but he’s chosen something even more demanding and expensive in terms of training, bless him. See you tomorrow.’ She gestured at the empty plates. ‘Let’s do this again. It’s nice having a pal who calls me Leonie and not just Seb’s mum.’

And it was as easy as that.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 9 Feb, 16:33

Subject: Busking in February

Hi Cam,

Actually, do you mind your name being abbreviated to Cam? Amy is a hard name to shorten. My friend Cass (the one who’s off to Australia) sometimes calls me Ams, which is kind of sweet but also makes me think of the verb ‘to aim’ so feels a bit weird too. So, if you’re not a fan of Cam, I’ll start again with ‘Hi Cameron’. I think I prefer that, although it’s not really my place to have a preference of course.

I see your polar plunge and I raise you busking in Edinburgh city centre in February. Oh yes. Jumping into freezing Antarctic waters sounds like a doddle compared to standing in the wind tunnel of Princes Street Gardens. I fear it’s going to take weeks for me to thaw out, even though I’ve borrowed Harry’s cats to cuddle up with. (Harry = my neighbour. I reckon he must be in his 90s but he’s definitely young at heart.) Anyway, I think I’ve learnt the art of playing the cats at their own game because I made a big deal of pretending that the last thing I wanted was to snuggle up with them, so they of course did the exact opposite of what they thought I wanted. Muhahaha!

Despite the February chill, I actually really enjoyed today’s busking venture, and hopefully the wildlife charity will be pleased with the £76 I’ll be sending them in takings. I don’t think it’s a bad haul given that I could only take cash donations and hardly anyone bothers carrying change around nowadays. At one point, a dog on his walk stopped and started singing along to my playing. The owner was terribly embarrassed and tried to drag him away, but I quickly told her I was delighted to have such a handsome accompanist (he was a black Labrador, is there a more gorgeous breed of pooch? I don’t think so) and so she let him stay for a bit. The poor woman stood there for a good fifteen minutes as he threw his head back and crooned for joy. He was getting properly into it. I think I’ve probably got him to thank for the largest donation of the day: a crisp ten-pound note. Clearly I shall have to enlist a four-legged companion for my next venture out onto the streets. I wonder if Eliza and Fraser would be up for it…

Love,

Amy x

PS: Actually, I’m very impressed by your bravery/foolhardiness in taking the polar plunge, and relieved to hear that you’d had a medical check beforehand. Go, Action Man, go! I’m gradually piecing together your itinerary from the tantalising snippets you tell me—Zodiac trips ashore, polar plunge, lectures on focal lengths, what other delights are keeping you busy while you’re so far from ‘civilisation’?

ChapterTwenty

‘Ididn’t expect you to actually come down to help out,’ I said, rushing forward to help Malcolm as he heaved himself out of the taxi. ‘Shouldn’t you be resting that ankle?’

He passed me his crutches to hold while he balanced on one foot and adjusted his rucksack on his shoulders.

‘If I rest it any more, it’s going to wither and fall off. My brain is certainly going that way. I’ve finished every book in the house and my lovely wife can only do so many library runs for me. Don’t worry, I’m steady now. You can stop bracing yourself to catch me.’

I returned his crutches and then hovered within supporting distance as he smoothly made his way inside, nodding and smiling at the members of staff who’d suddenly found a reason to be hanging around in the theatre’s foyer.

‘I didn’t think I’d ever be crossing this threshold again,’ he said, looking around as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Remind me, how long is Ian away?’

‘Until the second week of March. Unless the cruise ship audience can’t get enough of him and his contract is extended, of course. Or maybe he’ll stay on as a guest; you know how much he enjoys a sunny climate. Didn’t he go off on a lengthy holiday this time last year?’

‘But last year the theatre wasn’t in such dire straits.’

‘I think it probably was, but he was pretending it wasn’t.’

‘He’s still pretending, if you ask me,’ muttered Malcolm. ‘I mean look at this place. The staff probably outnumber the audience ten to one. It’s shameful that he’s not here fighting with every last breath to save these people’s jobs, rather than putting his own ego first.’

‘It is what it is. At least we’re trying something, rather than passively waiting for the axe to fall. Now, are you sure you don’t want to sit and direct operations from up here? The steps down to the Cellar Bar are rather uneven. We’ll have to investigate getting a lift installed. If it becomes a success, of course.’ I was getting way ahead of myself. We hadn’t even had the first paying customer through the doors yet.

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