Free Village Gossip by Rebecca Shaw

suspected there would be no hands put up and he was right. In that case then, here goes, he thought.
    ‘Scenery. Barry Jones. Any ideas for an assistant, Barry?’
    ‘I wondered about Sir Ronald, he’s a very practical chap.’
    ‘Is he here?’
    ‘No, but you could have a word tomorrow, he’s at home at the moment.’
    ‘Right.’ Hugo made a note on the list on his clip board. ‘Lighting?’
    With one voice they all said, ‘Willie.’
    ‘Willie it is. Are you here, Willie?’
    ‘I am, and yes I’m willing. Long time since them lights was given a proper airing, but I’ll do my best.’
    Barry Jones gave Willie a verbal reference. ‘You did wonders when we had that Flower Festival a few years back. Very subtle the lighting was. He’ll do a good job, Hugo.’
    ‘Willie. Lighting. Now, props. That means someone who knows every piece of furniture, every flower, every ornament, et cetera, needed for each and every scene, someone who can find all we need by begging borrowing or stealing – well, not literally, but you know what I mean. Any ideas?’
    There was a silence and then a voice from the back piped up. ‘I’ll do that. I’ve finished my exams, be glad of something to do.’ Dean Jones, Dean Duckett that was, waved a hand to everyone. ‘If you’ll tell me what you need.’
    ‘Of course. You’re …?’
‘Dean Jones.’
    ‘Excellent. You’re stage manager, then.’ Hugo jotted down Dean’s name and continued on down his list. ‘Now, publicity. This means programmes, posters, tickets, advertising. Who have we got? Any offers?’
    There was a brief silence and then Anne Parkin spoke. ‘I’m quite good at lists and things. I’m not creative, but I could do publicity and printing and such. If that’s all right.’
    ‘Wonderful. Your name?’ He leant towards her in the most endearing manner and cupped his hand to his ear.
    ‘Anne Parkin.’
    ‘Anne Parkin it is. Now. Next. Costume is Mrs Jones and Vera Wright.’
    A voice at the back said, ‘You’ope!’
    ‘I can assure you it will be. A small contretemps, soon be ironed out. Now.’
    ‘You’ll have your work cut out sorting that little problem, believe me. How about it, Mrs Jones? Willing to let bygones be bygones?’
    ‘You mind your own business, Jimmy Glover.’
    ‘Mr Maude! I’m Sylvia Biggs. You’ll need someone to make coffee and that when you have a break from rehearsing. How about me? Might not manage it every night, ’cos I may be needed at the Rectory. But I’d be glad to be involved, and I’d find a substitute when I couldn’t.’
    ‘You can have no idea what music that is to my ears. The cast rely deeply,’ there was a lot of emphasis on the word ‘deeply’ and they all felt it in their bones, ‘on cups of coffee to revive them. Absolutely essential. In fact the success of the play could be said to relate directly to the quality of the drinks provided during rehearsal! Wonderful, Sylvia.’ He bunched his fingers and kissed them in Sylvia’s direction. ‘I’ll put your name down.’
    Willie nudged Sylvia and mouthed, ‘Why?’
Out of the corner of her mouth Sylvia said, ‘To keep my eye on what’s going on, of course.’
    ‘He’s embarrassed you.’
    ‘No, he hasn’t.’
    ‘He has. I’ll come every night as well. Keep an eye on you.’
    ‘You daft thing, Willie Biggs.’
    ‘He’s got a sight too much charm ’as Mr Hugo Maude. Just ’ope he doesn’t turn out to be Mr Hugo Fraud.’
    Sylvia giggled. ‘You’re in top form tonight I must say. But I can see you’re jealous.’
    ‘I’m not. Have you done? Let’s go.’
    ‘In a minute. Let’s wait for instructions.’
    Hugo had completed his list and wanted to get on with the first rehearsal. ‘Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll be in touch with all backstage people within the next few days and have some in-depth discussions with each of you regarding duties, expenses, what’s needed, et cetera. We haven’t much time left to