Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

attend their other six shows safe in the knowledge that no Germans would be present – this sounded good at the time, Patience realising later that there was no such guarantee. What was he going to do, chuck them out if they came another night, have Louis refuse them at the door? It seemed to work in practice, or they’d kept their uniforms at home. For Deveral to come up with this plan so late into the war with Allied forces so so close to them – it needlessly made them look like collaborators with no net gain.

Patience took the dress for Lady Macbeth and suitable (ish) shoes back to Charlotte’s dressing room. Charlotte had undressed down to her slip, her visitors having left, and Patience helped her into her costume. Charlotte’s eyes were moist but her makeup was unaffected, proving she had held back the tears. She explained what had upset her. “This is my last night in this dressing room. I join the other girls as of tomorrow. This is her dressing room now.”

“Really? I’m sorry – and surprised.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I can deal with it. Don’t think if I’m quiet that I’m cross. I’m trying to remember my lines.”

“It is very short notice. Jean said about the audience. It does look pretty bad changing the play this late on.”

“Oh, it’s going to be a dreadful show. But he’s decided. And he didn’t even say the Scottish play. This is going to be a mess. More powder, please, these cheeks are going to burn.”

“Phase 3 of the plan is complete,” Deveral said, sitting with Florence in the auditorium now that the doors were locked and the paying public (all experiencing buyer’s remorse) and the cast and crew had departed. Tabby was skulking under the seats with them, remaining unseen but mewing every now and again.

“You should have said it was your plan to change the play. You’re already casting me as the villain.”

“Do you care?”

“Of course not,” Florence replied emphatically. “It would make them turn on you quicker, is all.”

“They take great pride in their work. That travesty pissed them off, believe me.”

“They don’t think on their feet very well.” Florence had chosen the parts of the witches, turned into one singular role, and had based her lines upon watching Macbeth performed on Broadway back in the ’20s. She had the gist of it and improvised lines to fit her scenes. The others floundered as soon as she went off-script – which was from her first line. Trampling over Shakespeare or any of the classics was virtually heretical to them, a way of instantly alienating the audience. People came to see Shakespeare to see Shakespeare (though in this case they had actually come to see something else), not an amateur dramatics brainstorming session.

“They’re good at learning lines. We don’t have long runs. We have our core audience – had – we don’t compete with the big theatres, we do our small shows, different ones most weeks. Some of our regulars were pissed too, which is what we want.”

“Why don’t you bring the German show forward to tomorrow?”

She was keen. “I’m not quite ready yet. We’ll change the show again tomorrow – I’ll pick one they’ve never done. I’ll schedule a meeting for Saturday morning, and I’ll make sure I’m firmly the villain this time.”

Florence smiled. “Make sure it’s another small part. It’s more fun to watch it crumble from the sidelines after agitating things.”

“Don’t enjoy it too much, Florence. Remember that I like these people.”

Florence rolled her eyes and did not respond to his comment. She heard the cat again and asked, “Who’s looking after them when you die?”

“They’ll get jobs elsewhere. Maybe not ’til peacetime, but that’s coming.”

“That’s remarkable considering I was talking about the cats – I sense multiple heartbeats.”

“Didn’t even know it was a girl. She’s a born survivor. She’s not my cat. She just found a way in here. Are you offering?”

“I’ll take care of her if you want me to.”

Although Florence adopted an innocent tone, Deveral decided to reject her offer.

Patience did not have time to take Florence’s measurements the first night with everything being so rushed. She asked if she could do this the following afternoon, Florence rising to her feet and stretching her arms out as though it were a chore. Patience was pleased that Charlotte was in the room with them; otherwise, the atmosphere would have been even more strained. Charlotte was only there to pack up her belongings, and while she had extended the olive branch of friendship to Florence, her failure to take it and her rudeness to Patience was pushing her to her limit.

“She goes out and sources costumes for us. She needs to know our sizes for that,” Charlotte said, speaking up for Patience – though a little anger at her own treatment was included in there too.

“Which is why I’m letting her measure me. Do you have a problem with that?”

“We’ve got off on the wrong foot – these are trying times. What’s your acting background?”

“My acting credits are slim, but I’ve been written about a lot. I’ve been the centre of attention constantly. This isn’t a stretch for me.” The disdain emanating from Florence made Patience greatly uncomfortable even being near her. Deveral seemed prepared to bend over backwards for her and willing to push the rest of the staff even further back to accommodate her. If Florence could not achieve magnanimity, civility would have been something. Instead, she skirted between indifference and hostility. Patience felt this was such a shame as they’d been a small and tight unit for the most part, encompassing a wide range of ages (Patience was one of the youngest at 28, Deveral the oldest in his 80s) and backgrounds without serious division... and it was apparent that all of that was about to go up in smoke.

“We have a core audience who are very particular about what they like and don’t like. I’ll be honest with you,