Chapter Two

Warning: mention of Dignitas

Mr Cole and Mr Green ran the Shaky Theatre on Main Street. Mr Green was an ex-actor and current ‘creative force’ of the theatre. It was his job to organise the shows that the theatre would put on, interview directors and put on community projects. He’s the kind of gay old man who wears scarves, name drops and has a penchant for tangents about the spirit and energy of a project. Mr Cole takes care of the business side of things. Occasionally, I can hear him and Mr Green arguing about money.

“Will, we’ve been over this, we don’t have the money to hire Daniel Craig to jump out of a helicopter dressed as Santa into the theatre.”

“But think of the look on the children’s faces!”

“Think of the look on our faces when he sues us for breaking every bone in his body!”

“That’s why I thought of the net, Johnny.” Suffice to say, they didn’t go with Mr Green’s idea for the Christmas pageant. I couldn’t conceive of any situation that would have allowed for days-of-the-week-socks Mr Cole and Mr Thespian to meet outside of their work. Mr Cole had never even given the slightest indication that he enjoyed theatre. Nevertheless, fate worked in mysterious ways and the two had been together for a long time.

It was my job to do all the things that made sure the theatre was running well from day to day. If the website needed updating I was your girl, if there was a crack in the wall I called out the handyman, on theatre nights I pushed around the ice cream cart. My status as Goblin woman was very much safe but if there was one thing that would have caused it to waver, it would have been the fact that I loved my job with all my heart. I didn’t mind peeling off my blankets if it meant that I got to go to the Shaky. My peers were cooped up in their office chairs for eight hours a day to pay off their student loans but I got to be a part of something special.

When I arrived for work the next day, I was doing my best to get my mum’s words out of my ears. Would a sad person hate their job? No! I made a mental note to mention that to her the next time we spoke. As I unlocked the door I could hear my bosses talking with raised voices so naturally I assumed they were arguing. When they saw me across the empty reception they paused and stared. “Good morning.” I said. They didn’t say anything but kept staring. I felt nervous and prayed that I had brushed all of last night’s popcorn from my hair. “What?”

“Jessica, we need to talk.” They walked through the waiting area to the side office. Mr Cole dragged two cars across the carpet and gestured for Mr Green and I to sit down while he retrieved himself a third.

“What’s going on?”

Mr Green clapped his hands together and grinned and even Mr Cole allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch. “We’re getting married!”

Relief washed through my bones. I thought that they had found out about me sneaking ice cream on show nights. “That’s fantastic!” I was happy for the two of them. They were like the two gay uncles I never had. Well, if you didn’t believe the rumours about my mum’s brother Kenny. Mr Green flashed showed me his ring and launched into the story.

“Last night I was watching an old rerun of that comedy that me and Ian…” Ian McKellen that is, “did in the 90s. Utter bollocks but you need a pick me up now and then don’t you. Let me tell you some of us have not aged well. I was talking about this with Stephen at a party last year,” Stephen Fry, “what’s happened to us all? When did we start drooping?”

“Will, get to the point.” Mr Cole said.

“Okay, okay. And then Johnny says that dinner’s ready, I go in, candles everywhere! Not the bad candles from that artsy place, the good candles.” At this point Mr Green spent two minutes and forty seconds talking about the decline in candle quality until Mr Cole took over the story.

“And then I asked him to marry me. We’re getting married in our house in France next month. Can you come?”

“Of course.” I wouldn’t miss that for the world. “This is so amazing, we should put some kind of event on to celebrate when you get back. I don’t know we could stage a concert or something or redo some of the early plays you did when you first opened this, invite the actors back.” The looks on their faces changed and their smiles became more strained.

“Jessica, we need to talk about something else.” Mr Green took my hands. “We’re not coming back.”

As soon as my relief came it left, replaced with an icy fear. “Mr Green … Mr Cole…” I looked at each one. Mr Cole adjusted his cufflinks. “Guys you can’t do this.”

“It’s our time, my dear.” Mr Green said.

“But you have so much to live for. You’re not that old, you can’t just give up!”

Mr Green shot back in his chair. “Jessica, we’re retiring, not taking a trip to Dignitas.”

“Oh,” I sighed, “It’s just when you said, ‘it’s our time’ and ‘you weren’t coming back’ I thought…”

“Maybe that was ambiguous phrasing.” Mr Green’s chuckle turned into his own sigh. “We love this place, we love what we do here but we’re at a time in our lives when we don’t want to deal with the accounts and the planning and the tantrums from the actors-”

“And you.” Mr Cole winked.

“You haven’t gotten me down the aisle yet, Jonathan. You’re on thin ice.” Mr Green turned back to me. “It’s all getting a bit much. Will and I have talked and we don’t want to shackle you to this place. It’s our dream not yours. But don’t fret, we won’t shut it before you’ve found another job. We’re not rushing into anything.”

Just like that the word had been ripped from underneath me. I half wondered whether my mum hadn’t been on the phone with the two old men convincing them to pack it in just so I stop recording episodes of The Castles of Europe. I wasn’t depressed. My life had a perfect balance. I work all day to be able to go home to my paper crafts and my Nutella jar. Without my job, that all went out of the window I wasn’t even Goblin Woman, I was just Mole Woman hiding out in the dark. What was I going to work as? ‘Doing odd jobs around a small theatre’ is not a career that I can build on. I saw the fabric of my life crumbling around me.

“Yeah.” I said eventually. “I get it.” I stood up. “I need to check the alcohol license for the concessions cart, so I should go and do that.” Mr Green and Mr Cole let me go.

I thought that doing some work would make me feel better, but the day passed painfully. Every activity I tried to throw myself into was a reminder that I wouldn’t get to do it in the future. The worst thing was that I wasn’t angry at Mr Green and Mr Cole. They were right. I couldn’t run this place. It was time for me to move on. In the afternoon, I let out a tear or two while writing some jaunty tweets about our upcoming production of The Tempest. While I was trying to think of a ship-themed pun, Mr Cole sat in the chair next to me.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Sure I am. It was just a bit of a shock. That’s all. You must be thrilled about the wedding.”

“I am. Will’s already threatened to divorce me thirty times since we got engaged so I don’t know if that bodes well.” Mr Cole looked around the theatre. Sometimes I liked to do work in the audience. There was something about being surrounded by a lot of empty space that made me feel focused. “I’ll miss this place though.” I held back the tears. Mr Cole was not the kind of man who would appreciate snot on his suit jacket. “There’s just one more thing we wanted to tell you.”

“I don’t think I can handle one more piece of news Mr Cole. If one of you is ill or something I might just lose it.” I wiped a tear from my cheek.

“No, it’s more of a request. We’d like for you to make a speech at the wedding?”

“In front of Ian McKellen?”

“We’re still ironing out the guest list.” Mr Cole said with a degree of learned patience in his tone.

“Of course, I will.” Mr Cole nodded by way of thanks and then stood up. He put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a small smile. I smiled back, then he left to go back to the office.

I looked around the space. When I first came here I thought that this place was huge. The stage curtains seemed to extend endlessly upwards into the ceiling, the seats looked as though they could fit a hundred people. But once you’ve wheeled an ice cream cart around a place you get to know it and sitting in the theatre was like sitting in my living room.

What the f**k was I going to do now?