screeched, giving a quick impression, then descended into hysterics once more.
Sid bent forwards with his hands on his knees still trying to calm down. ‘But look at it. It looks like it’s been drinking protein shakes from the sports centre bins. That’s not normal. Seagulls shouldn’t be the size of small aeroplanes.’
‘Sid, stop it.’ Lottie wiped the tears from her face but continued laughing as she spoke. ‘Right, now I’ve calmed down a bit I’ll get the outside shot as the weather’s nice. I don’t like the look of that rain cloud.’ She nodded to the sky over the sea where a band of dark grey cloud threatened to envelop the town.
‘Okay, I’ll wait for you.’ Sid finally stood up and adopted his usual stance of hands in pockets, leaning against the back of a bench.
After taking the pictures, Lottie and Sid crossed the road and walked to the door. The clouds had quickly blown in and spots of rain began to fall. The rain gathered pace and Lottie pulled a heavy set of keys out of her bag and tried to find the one for the front door.
‘Come on, Lots, we’re getting soaked.’
‘I’m trying. There’s like a million keys on here.’ She examined them individually and found the right one. Pushing the glass door with her fingertips in case it smashed to pieces in her hand, they edged inside as it revolved to the sounds of rusty gears and grinding metal.
‘Wow,’ said Sid, walking in and placing Lottie’s camera bag down on the floor. Lottie brushed the rain from the sleeves of her cardigan and inspected the interior.
Inside was a small square balcony higher than the theatre floor. On either side, a few steps led down to where row upon row of seats lined up in front of the stage. A deep crimson carpet, discoloured and threadbare in places, echoed the faded grandeur of the exterior. It was an unusual layout which Lottie felt gave the place even more character.
Without realising where her feet were taking her, Lottie drifted towards the stage. In her mind she could see actors performing to a full house and wondered which seats her grandparents had sat in that fateful night. She turned to tell Sid, but he was too busy staring at the ceiling.
‘Did you ever think there’d be a place like this in Greenley?’ he asked, gazing upwards. Lottie followed his eyes and gasped.
The ceiling was covered in intricate plaster cornicing framing painted murals of Greco-Roman myths. It wasn’t quite the Sistine Chapel, but it wasn’t too shabby either.
‘What’s that one supposed to be?’ asked Sid, pointing.
Lottie tried to make out what the figures and cherubs were doing. It looked quite rude actually. ‘I think it’s supposed to be Dionysus. That is not appropriate for children though.’ She turned to him, her eyes wide with excitement. ‘I had no idea this was here. Did you?’
‘Nope.’ Sid scrunched up his nose. ‘What’s that smell?’
‘Damp. There’s black mould all over the walls. Look.’ She ran her hand down and bits of paper fell off and stuck to her fingers.
Each wall had four ceiling-height columns evenly spaced along them and, in between, a once gold wallpaper peeled off, now cold and wet to the touch. She took some more photos. The town needed to see how bad things were.
‘Maybe knocking it down isn’t such a bad idea after all,’ said Sid, finding a clean page in his notebook.
‘Don’t say that. It just needs airing out and cleaning up. Strip the walls and replace the carpet and it’ll be fine.’
Sid grinned. ‘When did you become Miss Enthusiastic?’
‘I’m just trying to be a bit more positive, like you told me.’ Lottie stuck out her tongue and Sid mirrored her. She circled around and smiled. ‘Sid, just look at the stage.’ Lottie ran up a set of stairs at the front edge, brushing the curtain with her shoulder causing dust motes to dance in the light. Lottie tucked the camera strap over her head and rubbed her cardigan clean. ‘Can you imagine standing up here performing to everyone?’
Sid sat down in the last row and put his feet up. ‘Go on, do a dance or something.’
‘No!’
‘Please? For me? Or tell me a joke.’
Lottie tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘Umm … what’s brown and sticky?’
Sid smiled. ‘I don’t know. What is brown and sticky?’
‘A stick.’
He gave one of those embarrassing half laughs. ‘That is the worst joke I’ve ever heard.’
Lottie giggled. ‘Yeah, sorry.’ She stared out at the desolate and dejected theatre and her smile faded. She climbed down off the stage and joined Sid.
He must have seen her face fall, as he lowered his legs and leaned forwards before asking, ‘What’s the matter?’
‘How am I going to make this work, Sid?’ She raised her hand to start biting her fingernails. ‘There’s so much to do. Sarah Powell said there might be mice.’
‘Mice?’
Lottie cocked her head. ‘Are you imagining them all dancing on stage?’
‘Something like that.’
The corners of Lottie’s mouth lifted for a second then fell back down. ‘I haven’t seen any yet though, so that’s one good thing. Do you think people will turn up to the auditions?’
‘I guess we’ll find out soon. And don’t forget another advert runs this week.’
The first advert had looked amazing. Two actors in Shakespearean dress were silhouetted on a bright green background. One held out a skull and the other, on his knees, despaired with his head in his hands. Bold black type read, ‘Greenley Theatre needs you!’ and underneath was the information about the auditions.
‘And we’ve got a load of flyers to give out too.’ Sid pulled out his notebook. ‘When we run this article with all your pictures, I was thinking we could say something along the lines of, “Many of us knew Elsie Webster and the wonderful service she performed to the theatre and the town. Now her granddaughter, Charlotte Webster, will be carrying on her good work, and the theatre couldn’t be in better hands.”’
Lottie pressed her hand to her chest. ‘Oh, Sid, thank you. It’s beautiful.’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ he replied, blushing. For someone so good with words Sid was like an awkward teenager face to face.
‘You’ve helped me so much with all this,’ she said, taking off her camera and placing it on the seat next to her. ‘How can I say thank you?’
Sid scratched his head, ruffling his fluffy hair. ‘You don’t have to thank me, Lottie. I liked your nan. She was a like a mum to me too sometimes, wasn’t she?’
‘I suppose she was.’ Lottie bit her lip. ‘Do you miss her too?’
‘Yeah, I do. A lot. Elsie looked after me when Mum and Dad died.’
