‘Yes, I’m a bit nervous about it. Excited too, but at the moment mainly nervous.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
‘Oh, I will … once the read-through actually starts. But, you see, the thing is … Ritchie Good’s playing Dick Dudgeon.’
‘Is he?’ said Jude, though neither of the names meant anything to her. ‘Should I know him?’
‘Ritchie Good? Surely you’ve heard of him?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, he’s a terrific actor. Everyone says he should have done it professionally. He’s played star parts with lots of local groups – the Fedborough Thespians, the Clincham Players, the Worthing Rustics – Ritchie’s acted with all of them. He even played Hamlet for the Rustington Barnstormers.’
‘Did he?’ said Jude, trying to sound appropriately impressed.
‘He’s really good. Somebody must have pulled out all the stops to get him for the SADOS. I suppose it might have been Davina, though I’d be surprised if she had the clout to persuade someone like Ritchie Good.’
‘Davina?’
‘Davina Vere Smith. She’s the director. I said.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry.’
‘He’s incredibly good-looking, Ritchie. Got quite a following in the amdram world.’
Jude wondered for a moment whether it would be this new paragon, Ritchie Good, rather than Neville Prideaux who was about to be the recipient of Storm Lavelle’s full-on adoration.
Her friend was on the way to the door when she stopped and said, ‘Ooh, one thing, Jude …’
‘Yes.’
Storm looked around the cluttered room, whose furniture was all covered with rugs and throws. ‘I just wondered if you’d still got …?’
A wry smile came to Jude’s full lips as she said, ‘You mean the chaise longue?’
‘Yes.’
Jude moved across to remove a light-blue woollen blanket she’d bought in Morocco and reveal the article under discussion. The chaise longue had come from a little antique shop in Minchinhampton, picked up when she’d been on a trip to the Cotswolds with her second husband. It had been a stage of her life when Jude had been moving away from the husband and towards the idea of becoming a healer. She had thought the chaise longue might possibly do service as a treatment couch, but when she’d got it home she found it to be too low for such a purpose. She had hung on to it, though, and it had moved with her from address to address when other pieces of furniture had been abandoned.
She didn’t know how old it was, and the antique dealer who sold the thing to her had been pretty vague on the subject. ‘Mid to late Victorian, possibly Edwardian’ was as specific as he had got. The base, he said, ‘might be mahogany’, though Jude thought it was probably a cheaper wood stained to look like mahogany. The upholstery, he felt sure, was not original, but Jude had become quite fond over the years of the purplish flowered print, even though it was usually covered with the Moorish drape. She liked using the chaise longue in the winter months, moving it near the fire, making sure she had an adequate supply of tea, crumpets and books before snuggling under the cover.
Many chaises longues have a supporting arm along one side, but Jude’s didn’t. And this had proved of great benefit in its life outside Woodside Cottage.
Because her chaise longue was a much borrowed piece of furniture. And it was always borrowed by the same kind of people – amateur dramatic groups. A chaise longue was so versatile. Any play set in any historical period looked better with a chaise longue as part of its setting. And Jude’s armless chaise longue was much loved by directors, because they could set it facing the audience on either the right- or the left-hand side of the stage.
Not even counting the times it had been borrowed before, since Jude came to Fethering her chaise longue had featured in most of the church halls of the area in a variety of thespian endeavours. It had been a shoo-in for a part in Robert and Elizabeth, the musical about the poet Browning and his wife, and appeared in more than one stage version of Pride and Prejudice. Jude’s chaise longue had also taken the stage in The Winslow Boy, Arsenic and Old Lace (twice) and virtually the entire oeuvre of Oscar Wilde. It had even, tarted up in gold foil, provided a suitable surface for the Egyptian queen to be poisoned on by an asp in Antony and Cleopatra.
And now, Jude intuited, it might be about to make an appearance in George Bernard Shaw’s The Devil’s Disciple.
So it proved. Storm wondered tentatively whether it might be possible for the SADOS to impose on Jude’s generosity to borrow …? The permission was readily given. Jude’s sitting room also contained a sofa which could be moved near the fire for the tea, crumpet and book routine, so the chaise longue would not be missed. The only questions really were when would it be needed, and how should it be got to where it needed to be got to.
The answer to the first was as soon as possible, because when Davina Vere Smith was directing she liked to use all the furniture and props right from the beginning of rehearsals. And the chaise longue needed to be got to St Mary’s Church Hall in Smalting. Once in situ it could stay there because there was a storeroom the SADOS were allowed to use for their props and things. In fact, they were lucky enough to be able to hold most of their rehearsals in the Hall, which was of course where the performances would take place in May.
‘That’s very convenient for you,’ said Jude. ‘So what, will someone come and pick the chaise longue up from here?’
‘Yes, that would be good, wouldn’t it?’ Storm agreed. ‘Trouble is, I’ve only got my Smart car and it’d never fit in there. And Gordon – that’s Gordon Blaine, who’s in charge of all the backstage stuff for SADOS – well, normally he’d pick it up, but his Land Rover’s got some problem that he’s busy repairing at the moment and … You can’t think of any way of getting it to St Mary’s Hall, can you, Jude?’
‘Well, I don’t have a car myself.’
‘Of no, of course you don’t. Sorry, I’d forgotten. But you haven’t got a friend, have you? A friend you could ask to …?’
‘Yes.’ A smile played round Jude’s lips. ‘Yes, there is someone I could ask.’
TWO
‘I’ve never had any time for amateur dramatics,’ announced Carole Seddon. ‘Or indeed for the people who indulge in them.’
‘I’m not asking you to indulge in anything,’ said Jude patiently. ‘I’m just asking you to help me deliver a chaise longue.’
‘Hm.’
‘It’s only in Smalting. Early evening Sunday. The whole operation will take maybe an hour of your time.’
Carole looked dubiously at the uncovered chaise longue. ‘I’m not sure that’ll fit in the Renault.’
‘Of course it will. If you put the back seats down.’
‘I don’t know. It’s quite long.’
‘That’s possibly why it’s called a chaise longue.’
‘Oh, very funny, Jude,’ said Carole without a hint of a smile.
‘I happen to know that it will fit in the back of the Renault. It has had such a peripatetic life since I bought it that it has on occasions fitted into the back of virtually every vehicle that’s ever been invented – except a Smart car, which would be a squeeze too far. But if you’d rather not do it, just say and I’ll get someone else to—’
‘Oh, I didn’t say I’d rather not do it.’ This was classic Carole Seddon. Jude knew her neighbour very well and was used to the obscure processes that had to be gone through in making arrangements with her. Carole may have disapproved of amateur dramatics, but she still had a very strong sense of curiosity. So long as she was accompanied by Jude, the opportunity of invading the stronghold of the Smalting Amateur Dramatic and Operatic Society was not one that she would readily forego. She’d never actually met any amateur thespians. If she were to meet some, they might well provide justification for her prejudice against them.