The Show They Didn’t Have Yet

On Monday morning, Aron was already in the hall when Mila and Grandma arrived. He was tapping his rice tin with the handle of a spoon. Now it sounded like someone knocking on a shut door.

‘I want to use that,’ he said.

Mila put their drawing on the table. ‘What for?’

‘The fisherman. He’s late.’

‘Can’t he just go through the door?’

Aron tapped again, leaving a pause between the second and third knocks. ‘If nobody opens it, he has to think of something else.’

Mila studied the three boxes on the paper. Yesterday, she had drawn a line between the kitchen and the conservatory. Someone ought to be able to walk through the house. Otherwise, they were just three separate pictures.

Ilyas carried in a pile of folders. Behind him came three members of the puppet group. The woman who sewed the curtains had a bag held open by a large spool of thread. The sound man adjusted his chair until all its feet sat evenly. The woman with the programme diary stayed standing until everyone had found a place.

‘Half an hour,’ she said. ‘Then I have to go.’

Ilyas put the folders down. ‘More time than a fisherman needs to be late.’

Aron put down the spoon.

Mila pushed their drawing further across the table. On Sunday, she and Aron had asked if they could put on something on Friday. Ilyas had said he wanted to know what first. Now there were actual people waiting for an answer.

‘A story in three rooms,’ she said.

The curtain woman pulled her bag closer. ‘What rooms?’

‘My grandma’s. From years ago. They’re in that cloth.’

She pointed towards the side room. From the table, you could see one wooden upright of the frame. The large cloth, empty and in its cover, lay on the storeroom shelf. Mila wished she could show it to them already, but it was morning. Without the light, there wouldn’t be much to see except a roll.

Grandma laid her hands on the table. ‘Three preserved rooms. From the old house. I’d like a small try-out first, just for you three. Then we’ll know how it works as a show, and how much explaining it needs.’

‘Tuesday evening?’ asked the sound man.

Ilyas checked the diary. ‘That works. We’ll be here anyway.’

Mila looked at Aron. A try-out wasn’t a proper show. She drew the paper back a little and put her finger on the kitchen.

‘You can actually stand in it,’ she said. ‘Then you go through here into the next room. It’ll be one house. The fisherman comes in and tries to find out where the fish wants to go.’

The curtain woman bent over the drawing. ‘Can the audience go inside too?’

Mila wanted to say yes. In her head, everyone was already gathered round the table with the burn mark.

‘We’ll do the acting first,’ she said. ‘But you’ll see everything.’

Aron tapped the conservatory. ‘That’s my bit. With the rainy window.’

‘A house, then,’ said the woman with the diary, putting pen to paper.

Grandma shook her head. ‘One room at a time. We’re not fastening anything together.’

The pen paused.

‘But we can keep going, can’t we?’ said Mila. ‘Without the fisherman stopping.’

‘With enough time to slide the cloth over carefully,’ said Grandma. ‘Like yesterday.’

‘We can do sound effects while it changes,’ said Aron. ‘The fish can wait outside.’

He picked up the tin and let three drops fall. The sound man looked up.

‘They won’t hear that at the back if everyone’s talking.’

Aron stood and crossed the hall. He set the tin on an empty chair and tilted it. From here, the sound was thinner.

The man stayed at the table. ‘A little more.’

Aron shook it. For a moment, it hailed again. He looked at Mila, but she was watching the diary.

‘There’s space after the children’s choir on Friday evening,’ said the woman. ‘Seven o’clock until seven thirty-five. Then the hall gets cleaned.’

‘We won’t need that long,’ Mila said at once.

Ilyas looked at her. ‘You don’t know how long a show takes until you’ve performed it. Let’s see what you have on Tuesday first.’

On a separate sheet, he wrote three lines. Who’s performing. What we need. What we’ll do without the special light.

Mila stared at the last one.

‘You wouldn’t be able to see the rooms.’

‘Exactly,’ said Ilyas. ‘What will you perform then?’

Aron came back with the tin. He put the fish on his hand and turned its mouth towards the blank paper.

‘He could still be looking for a door.’

The curtain woman moved her bag aside. ‘I’ve got an old sheet. You could paint a window on it. Choose some wood for the frame and I’ll help you find pieces that won’t leave splinters.’

Mila thought of the cool table that gave a little beneath her hand. You couldn’t sit on a sheet. But everyone else was already talking about measurements and materials.

‘Only if we really have to,’ she said.

‘We’ll rehearse both versions,’ said Ilyas, and wrote it down.

They went through the side room again. Mila moved a bag away from the garden door. Then they found a safer place for the roll, further from the scenery box and paints. They cleared the wide bottom shelf. On a piece of card, Grandma wrote that only she was to take the cloth out of its cover, with someone helping her.

Mila would keep the real floor in front of the frame clear and have the order of the rooms ready. Aron was in charge of sound and his own lines. Ilyas would look after the lighting and puppets. The other three group members would come on Tuesday, without an audience.

‘And don’t put things on the cloth,’ said Grandma as Mila went to rest the drawing on the roll.

Mila pulled it back. ‘I wasn’t going to.’

Grandma said nothing. Mila folded the drawing along the line between the rooms. Now the kitchen and conservatory lay against each other. It looked better straight away.

As they left the hall, the woman with the diary copied something from her notes. Mila could see three rooms and Friday. The word house had been crossed out, but you could still read it.

‘Mila?’ Grandma called from the corridor. ‘Lunch first. Your mum’s coming to the old house at two.’

Mila slipped the drawing into her coat pocket. The crease stayed exactly between the two rooms.