Chapter Seventeen
Dr. Johnson was sympathetic over the reaction of Penny’s parents to her news, but despite that, she seemed pleased that Penny had broached the subject with them.
“It’s great that you could talk to them. That’s more than you thought you could do at the start of our sessions. And I do think it’s better to have this out in the open instead of festering,” she insisted to a dubious Penny. “Now you can all work through the issue.”
“I’ve pretty much had the cold shoulder from Mum since I told her,” said Penny. “There hasn’t been any working through, I can tell you.”
“Give it time,” encouraged the doctor. “From what you’ve told me, your Mum isn’t an unreasonable person. And she loves you.”
“Do you think so?”
“You don’t mean that, do you?”
Penny smiled at Dr. Johnson’s sharp question. “No. I know my Mum loves me. But this is really hard - I don’t think she and I have argued this hard since I wore a micro mini to the school dance after she told me I couldn’t wear it.” Penny grimaced at the memory. Her mother had been absolutely furious that Penny had changed into the tight little skirt after she got to the dance and had subjected her to two days of haughty silence. “No. Even that wasn’t as bad as this.”
“Why do you suppose your mother has responded so strongly?”
“She said it was because she wanted me to keep the baby from the start. When I said I wish I’d kept the baby, she just… she was so angry. At me.” Penny’s tears started to fall again. It seemed to be a common occurrence in the psychologist’s office. Dr. Johnson handed her the tissues and Penny wiped her eyes. “Mum doesn’t get angry like that. I can almost feel it kind of sizzling off her when I walk past. And Dad just gets this sad look when he looks at me.”
“Just give them some time,” repeated the doctor, warmly. “It sounds like your mother is still grieving.”
“She grieved years ago. Much more than I ever did.”
Dr. Johnson nodded. “But grief is a strange phenomenon. You can go back and forth through the stages of grieving, and grief can start up again after long periods of time - no one person grieves the same.”
“Brilliant,” grumbled Penny. “I’ve made my mum sad again. I’m a great daughter.”
“What about you?” asked the doctor. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel… okay,” said Penny with some surprise. “It felt good telling them, even though I’m pretty sure I forgot everything you told me about word choices and lowering the emotional content and all that. But I’ve decided I’m not telling anyone else. And I feel good about that decision, too.”
The doctor nodded. “Understandable, after the reaction you got from your mother.” She hesitated for a moment. “Let’s talk about how you felt when you told them.”
“It was relief. It kind of washed over me. For a second, anyway.” Penny grimaced at the doctor. “Until Mum.”
“And how do you feel now about not telling your friends? Earlier, you said,” Dr. Johnson looked back over her notes, “that it was like you took their confidences and didn’t give them yours.” She looked expectantly back up at Penny.
“Did you write down every word I said?” asked Penny with a grin, before she fell serious. “I just can’t tell anyone else now. Please don’t make me.”
A slow smile crossed the doctor’s face as she took off her glasses. “I would never make you do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” she said.
“I don’t know what to do, then,” said Penny. “If I suck it up, will I feel guilty about it forever? And if I don’t, what if they take it as badly as Mum did? And if it’s that causing the panic attacks, what do I do then?”
Dr. Johnson shook her head. “You may never have a panic attack again,” she said. “You may have them forevermore. We don’t know. All we can do is work to reduce the stress on your body.”
Penny let out a dissatisfied humph. “That doesn’t help me at all,” she said.
To her surprise, the doctor reached over and patted her leg. “You’ll know what to do, when the time comes,” she said, encouragingly. “Give yourself some credit. Trust yourself.”
Penny shook her head. “I haven’t trusted myself for a while,” she said with a wry grin.
“Then maybe it’s time to give it a try.”
Penny swept the curtain back, conscious of the action going on onstage. There, glinting in the pale backstage light was a new pile of small personal items, much like the one they found on the props table. Penny sighed in irritation.
Lydia jiggled her elbow. “It’s the ghost again, right?” she whispered eagerly. “The klepto poltergeist. He just can’t help stealing things.”
“Shh,” she said. “No, Edwin stole one thing at a time. This,” she indicated the stash with a wave of her hand, “is the work of someone very, very human.”
With a sigh, she leaned in to quietly pick up the goods. Penny didn’t need this. With only a little bit over a fortnight before actual performances began, they were still struggling with lines and scene changes. At least the replacement handkerchief stayed where it was supposed to be, even though the original still went missing, usually somewhere between the end of the first act and the beginning of the second.
Then there was Marc. While he had apologized for what he said, Penny could tell it still annoyed him that she was keeping things from him. He tried not to let it show, but there was something different in the way he held her, the way he looked at her—as if he was hurt by her refusal to speak to him. But Penny had still to decide what, if anything, she was going to tell Marc. And she didn’t need to be made to feel guilty every time she looked at him.
And now, she still had a thief to deal with.
Tailed by Lydia and Desiree, she stepped quietly around the back of the stage and to the greenroom, where she placed the stash on a shelf at the back of the props table.
“What do we do now?” asked Lydia.
“You sit down and stay quiet ‘til the act is finished,” instructed Penny in a hushed tone, “and I go do my job. Then, we’ll have a word to Jane.”
Lydia seemed disappointed, but Desiree nodded, and pulled Lydia by the elbow into a chair close by. Both of them knew better than to have anything more than a whispered conversation backstage while a rehearsal was in progress.
Marc stepped close to Penny as she tiptoed back into the wings. “What are those two doing here?” he asked quietly.
“Ghost-hunting,” replied Penny with a grimace. “And they found more stuff.”
Marc’s brows raised, and Penny nodded. “We’ll deal with it at the end of the act.” Marc nodded and continued his way around the back of the stage.
It seemed to take ages to get to the end of the act, but as soon as she had closed the curtains, Penny stuck her head through and said, “Jane? Can you come back? We’ve found more stolen stuff.”
Jane scowled and nodded, immediately getting up out of her chair. Penny returned to the greenroom.
“Everyone listen up.”
Penny waited until the noise in the greenroom subsided, and Jane was by her side.
“There’s been more personal items taken. I have a bunch of things that we found around the side of the curtain.” There was a swell of murmuring. “I don’t know what else to do. I think we’re going to have to call in the police.” She turned to Jane, who nodded her confirmation, her expression serious.
“Could it be the ghost?” asked Cerise, her eyes wide.
Penny raised an eyebrow. “No, Cerise, it couldn’t be the ghost.”
“Why not?”
Penny hesitated.
Into the silence, Jane interceded in a voice of authority. “Because there’s no such thing as ghosts. And especially not ones that collect things from all different people.”
Penny nodded. “Unless you particularly need it to get home, we’re going to hold on to all the items we’ve found today so the police can examine them. But if something belongs to you, can you let me know, so we can keep a list of who belongs to what.”
The actors quietly lined themselves up to look at the goodies that had been stolen, as if they realized this time it wasn’t just a silly prank. Penny took names and identifications, only having to return Chris’ keys, so he could drive his car home. Everything else stayed in the pile. The actors slowly dissipated into smaller groups, murmuring amongst themselves. Penny could feel the tension in the air. Almost everyone had something in the pile this time.
Marc looked over her shoulder at her list and pointed. “Only Cerise doesn’t have something here,” he said quietly in her ear.
“I know.”
“Makes her look pretty guilty.”
Before she could answer, Chris said, striding over to where they were standing. “What was that? Who looks guilty?”
Penny’s stomach dropped. “No-one,” she said. “You should all get ready for the second act.”
“No way,” replied Chris. “If someone is guilty, I want to know who it is.” He raised his voice a little, and the other actors seemed to realize something was happening.
“Stop it, Chris,” said Jane. “We’ll hand it over to the police, and they’ll look at it. We have a show to put on.”
“Bullcrap.” Before she could stop him, Chris snatched the list out of Penny’s hand and looked at it. His eyes narrowed. “Might have known.” He looked up at Cerise. “It was you, wasn’t it?”
There was silence in the greenroom. Cerise paled. “No,” she whispered.
“But you’re the only one who hasn’t had anything stolen.”
“And nothing of hers was stolen the last time either,” piped up Amber, rewarded with a scowl from Cerise.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure it does. It means you’re a thief.”
The burble of conversation grew louder, and Penny found herself watching Cerise’s face. The girl’s eyes had teared up, and her whole expression was bewildered. Either she was a really good actor (and she wasn’t), or she really was not guilty.
But Chris led a swell of voices against Cerise. “You should go, Cerise,” he said, his melodious voice stern. “We don’t want you here.” A murmur of agreement passed through the crowd.
“But I didn’t do it,” cried Cerise. “You have to believe me Chris.” She grabbed his arm, but he shook her off.
“Liar,” he said. Cerise took a step back from him, horror dawning on her face. The tears began to roll down her cheeks.
“Stop,” said Jane, coming to stand between them. “We don’t know it was Cerise, the police will investigate, and we have a show that starts in two weeks. Let’s all just concentrate on that.”
“I’m not sure I could do that, Jane, knowing there’s a filthy little thief back here going through my stuff.” Cerise stared into Chris’ hard features, and Penny watched as her expression changed from bewilderment to resignation. The crowd behind him shifted, uncomfortable with the standoff between their leading man and lady, but apparently ready to back Chris up.
Jane was about to reply when Cerise put a hand on her arm. “It’s alright, Jane,” she said quietly. “I’ll go. It’ll be better for the show if I do. I hope you catch whoever really did it.”
Penny could only watch as Cerise silently picked up her bag. She never really liked her, but she would swear she was innocent. She didn’t know what to do. Marc’s strong arms came around her, and the entire cast and crew watched Cerise leave.
For a few moments following her exit, there was quiet. Then, Penny was startled by the clap of Jane’s hands.
“Okay people, ten minutes ‘til we start Act Two. Amber? Can you stand in for Cerise?” Amber, her eyes shining, agreed.
Penny smiled sadly. No matter what happened, the show must go on.
But she had to find out what happened. For Cerise’s sake.