Page 51 of The Start of Something Wonderful

I’m trapped, unable to move, the négligée and blanket now tangled up in the wheels.

Please bring the tabs in and end the agony. Pleeeease.

The curtains come in slowly, jerkily, and our first-night audience is left at the interval, doubtless believing thatMirandais a horror story, with the central character bearing a scary resemblance to Norman Bates’s motherinPsycho.

* * *

Just as we are getting into our stride, the run reaches its end and it’s on to play two.

Thank the Lord I haven’t a part in this one, so can relax a little and focus on finding props and painting the set.

But then at the dress rehearsal, Jeremy drops a bombshell:

‘Darling,’ he says in a low voice as he places a suspiciously reassuring arm round my shoulders.‘We have a bit of a – situation on our hands …’

‘What kind of a – “situation”?’ I ask tentatively.

‘It’s nothing to worry about …’

Why do I get the feeling he’s lying?

‘Our sister theatre in Blackpool is having serious technical problems with some new sound equipment. The producer’s having a hissy fit and is demanding that Richard be there tomorrow for the opening night, and –well, our budget doesn’t stretch to a freelance sound engineer, soooo, as the only spare member of the stage management team, the duty falls to you, my sweet.’

My stomach plummets like a drop tower. He CANNOT be serious.

‘Oh, Jeremy, please let’s get one thing straight,’ I say with pleading eyes. ‘I may be a dab hand at splashing a bit of paint around, or knocking a couple of bits of woodtogether, or finding props for you, but operating a sound desk? I can’t even operate my DVD player properly.’

‘You’ll befine,’ he says with feigned conviction. ‘You can shadow Richard tonight, and the systems here are all manual, not a computer in sight, so you see, you’ll be fine, trust me. Okay, everyone, let’s start from where we left off – the top of Act Two, please!’

I now know whatASMreallystands for: A Stupid Mug.

* * *

Ahoy there!A Farce (What an understatement.)

Here I am in a tiny, hot, soundproof box at the back of the auditorium. It’s airless, rank with sweat (where’s a Jo Malone scented candle when you need one?) and has a deck of dials and switches that reminds me of the cockpit of a 747.

The door opens and Mark’s head peers round.

‘Good luck!’he says, giving me the thumbs-up.

‘House lights, down. Cue music … go!’ crackles Abi’s voice through my headphones (or ‘cans’, as the techies call them). My quivering finger depresses the switch, and the theme music fromDesert Island Discsswells the theatre.

‘Fade music. Sound cue one … go!’ cuts in Abi’s voice again. The tinny sound of rolling waves and the screech of gulls sifts throughthe speakers, setting the scene. Phew. I wind the reel-to-reel tape to the next red marker. There are several pages of dialogue before my next cue, so daring to relax a little, I take a swig of water and look down onto the set and my, dare I say,impressivehandiwork. The balsa wood palm trees look surprisingly realistic (as long as no one leans against them), although my last-minute brainwaveof dressing the stage with real coconuts (2 for 1 at Morrisons) is proving to be a bit of a safety hazard.

The play is a three-hander, and as the only female in the cast, Margo is in her element, playing afemme fatale, shipwrecked on a desert island with her husband and her lover. This week she is wearing a skimpy, low-cut, raggedy tunic, held together with angel breath. Her character issupposed to be in her twenties, but I’m learning that being top of the bill here has its perks – other than financial – one of them being you get to choose your own parts and costumes.

‘Cue music … go!’ calls Abi. ‘Well done, Emily, you made it to the interval. Fifteen minutes, please.’

Blimey, maybe I’m not such a technophobe after all. Who knows, if this acting lark doesn’t work out,a career as a sound engineer might not be beyond the realms of possibility.

There is a knock at the door and Ellis enters, carrying a mug of tea and a Kit Kat.

‘Hey, well done, you! Richard had better watch out – we have a budding sound engineer in our midst.’

‘Please don’t tempt fate.’ I smile through my slug of tea.

‘Just do exactly what you did in the first half and you’re homeand dry.’ He winks reassuringly, shutting the door behind him.

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