Free Only Strange People Go to Church by Laura Marney Page B

and then she says, ‘I’m not allowed to go into a shop by myself.’
    ‘ I’m not allowed to go into a shop,’ concurs Fiona, casually leafing through a magazine. ‘Mum says I’ve not to, that bastard at the end of the street steals my money, Mum says.’
    Fiona licks her fingers every time she turns a page so that the corners become damp and dog-eared, curled at the edges like an ancient manuscript.
    ‘Yes, thanks for that Fiona,’ says Maria briskly. ‘Anyway, Jane, let’s pretend that you are allowed. Improvise, just make it up, okay?’
    They begin again. Martin goes through his elaborate mime with the heavy box for the seventh time, still with all the freshness of the first. As Jane enters the performance space Martin puts down his clipboard with studied calm and greets his customer.
    ‘Good morning Madam, can I help you?’
    Jane hesitates. She seems to be searching the invisible shelves and Martin, following her gaze, turns and scrutinises them too.
    ‘Can I get a shot now?’ says Fiona, bored already.
    ‘Hold on a minute Fiona, let Jane get her turn.’
    Jane stops looking at the shelves and stares at her feet.
    ‘See anything you fancy Madam?’ says Martin.
    Jane shakes her head.
    ‘Jane, what is it you want to buy?’ asks the director.
    ‘Don’t know.’
    ‘Well, think something up, what about a Mars bar?’
    ‘Not fair!’ cries Fiona. ‘I’m going to buy a Mars bar!’
    ‘I don’t like Mars bars,’ says Jane quietly.
    There are few things that Jane likes, and even those she does like she’s probably scared of.
    Jane was not always like this. Jane was once an intrepid adventurer in her spare time. She and her husband spent their holidays crossing deserts, canoeing rivers and climbing mountains. That was until she fell off a mountain. Without the recent improvements in medical technology she would have died but a thin sheet of titanium has been patched over the part of her brain that got pulped.
    ‘Well, what do you like?’
    ‘Don’t know.’
    ‘She’s rubbish Maria, it’s my turn now.’
    ‘Not yet Fiona. Jane, can you…’
    Jane turns back towards Martin.
    ‘Mars bar.’
    ‘Certainly Madam,’ says Martin, making an elaborate mime of putting a Mars bar in a paper bag. He holds the corners of the invisible bag between the pincers of his thumb and forefinger twisting the bag, tossing it up and over, around itself several times.
    ‘Anything else I can help you with today Madam?’
    Jane grabs at the imaginary bag and turns to leave.
    ‘That’ll be fifty-two pence, thank you Madam.’ Martin says, holding out his hand.
    ‘That’s it Jane, give him the money.’
    Martin takes the mime money and rings it up on his till before returning to his stocktaking.
    ‘Good. Well done!’ Maria says.
    Jane scurries back to her seat. Before she fell off the mountain, when Jane was not being an intrepid adventurer, she was a nurse.
    ‘It’s my shot now.’
    ‘In a minute, Fiona. Now, everyone, what do we think of that?
    ‘Crap,’ says Fiona.
    ‘Compelling. Drama.’ says Brian.
    It would be wrong to say that Brian has a sarcastic tongue, in fact he has an ineffectual lolling mouth muscle that only frustrates him because it refuses to work properly. He does however have a ruthlessly incisive left-hand middle finger. This he uses, when the spasms allow him, to poke at the Dynavox touchscreen mounted on his chair. The regulated monotone voice of his machine sometimes makes it difficult to know when Brian is taking the piss but in this case there can be little doubt.
    Maria chooses to ignore their negativity.
    ‘Now, let’s take it on a bit further. Remember last week when we said there could be some conflict?’
    All except Fiona nod their heads.
    ‘Well, let’s think of ways we can expand the plot by bringing in a bit of conflict. Now when I say conflict I mean trouble, something exciting that makes it more interesting. Successfully negotiating the purchase of a Mars bar is