Free The Boy I Love by Lynda Bellingham

on the floor by a bin as she produced a fresh
one from her rucksack.
    ‘We waste so much milk here, but without a fridge what can I do? Tea or coffee?’ she asked, filling the kettle.
    ‘Oh, tea please,’ said Sally, looking round.
    ‘Not exactly the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, is it?’ remarked Heather. ‘To be honest I am hardly ever in here, as I’m too busy running round like a blue-arsed fly. Have you
done any stage management at all?’ She posed the question as if she already knew the answer.
    ‘Well, I did a bit at drama school, but this is my first professional job actually and—’
    ‘Oh crap, I thought so.’ Heather cut her off. ‘Sorry, Sally, but Giles does this to me every year. Hires would-be actresses to do stage management. You are not in the least bit
interested in lighting or props, you just want to perform!’ She threw a tea bag into a mug and banged it down in front of Sally. ‘It drives me mad. There is another girl in the cast
down as ASM as well – Sarah something. I just hope she is the genuine article.’
    ‘I am so s-sorry,’ stammered Sally. ‘I really am. But please don’t think I am not going to pull my weight. I fully expect to do my share, and I am eager to learn,
honestly.’
    Heather sat down at her desk and studied her for a few minutes. Sally waited for her assessment.
    ‘Fair enough,’ came the sighed response. ‘At least you tipped up on time today. Let’s see how we get on. Now today can go as smooth as treacle, or turn into bedlam. First
thing you need to know, my girl, is all about the pecking order. But first, I’ll do the tea.’ She got up and poured boiling water into the mugs.
    ‘Pecking order?’ repeated Sally. ‘How do you mean?’
    Heather came back and took a list from her bag; she placed it between them. ‘This is the cast, and it’s important that you learn who is at the top of the list, and who is at the
bottom. And let me tell you that very often, some of these buggers shouldn’t be on any list at all!’ Her good humour restored, over the next half an hour Heather took Sally through the
cast, and then led her up to the stage to lay out chairs ready for the ‘Meet and Greet’. Two large chairs stood in the centre, and then the smaller fold-away chairs fanned out on each
side into a semi-circle.
    Heather laid a cast list on the two main chairs, saying, ‘These are for Peggy and Percy, our leading artistes – a couple off stage as well as on, known behind their backs as Pinky
and Perky.’ She snorted. ‘They rule the roost, so watch out. Don’t tell Peggy anything she can use against you, and keep out of Percy’s way unless you are prepared to be a
slave to his demands.’
    ‘How many of the cast have been here before?’ Sally asked as she put a typed list on each chair.
    ‘Let’s see . . . well, Geoffrey Challis has done a few seasons here. He is lovely, by the way. He has a wife and three kids and I really don’t know how he makes ends meet, but
I suspect his missus has money. Charmaine Lloyd was here last year. She’s OK most of the time, but I get the impression she feels she should be leading the Royal Shakespeare Company. As far
as I know, everyone else is a newcomer.’
    ‘I am staying with Peter and Janie at the moment. I met them last night and they seem very pleasant.’ Sally followed Heather across the stage to the pass door. Heather held it open
for her, and then they both climbed the stairs to the Green Room, which was inevitably at the top of the building.
    ‘This will keep you fit,’ puffed Heather. ‘I keep trying to give up the fags but it’s hopeless.’
    The Green Room was the heart of any theatrical company. So-called because it was invariably painted green, it was the communal dumping ground and meeting place for the actors and stage
management. Here, there was tea and coffee, a kettle, a fridge and a microwave. The fridge, Heather said, was usually crammed with every type of food imaginable,