Chapter Three
Later that evening Penny was back at the theater. Rehearsals were Sunday, Monday and Thursday for around ten weeks before a show. In the wings of the theater, awaiting the cue to pull the curtain, Penny’s thoughts had wandered. She usually pulled herself up quickly when she did that - when you were backstage, it was too easy to be off in La La Land when you should be handing someone a prop or be on stage for a quick scenery change.
This time, the attack came on quickly. In the dark of the wings, Penny’s thoughts drifted back to the morning, to her run, and to the dark, sad memories that until now, she had safely kept tucked away, locked up in the back of her mind.
The memories overwhelmed her. Grief and shock and pain collided in her head and in her stomach. She felt the color drain from her face, and her pulse speed up. Her heart beat so hard in her chest she thought it would explode. She put her head between her legs, only to hear, “Curtain,” over the headset. But she couldn’t move.
“Penny! Curtain!” One of the actors hissed at her from near her on the wings. Her head snapped up and she nodded. Grasping the curtain wire, she closed the curtains before leaning against the wall, a cold sweat covering her body. She slid down to a sitting position.
What was happening? Was she sick or something? She felt a shaking, starting from inside her chest and radiating outward until she couldn’t hold her hands still. They trembled as her eyes filled with tears. She inhaled convulsively, trying desperately to hold it together, to keep anyone else from finding her and seeing her like this.
The backstage lights came up and Penny immediately dragged herself to her feet, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hands.
“Hey.” Marc sauntered up to her, his usual friendly grin on his face. “I’ve set the props for Act Two, do we need to - are you alright?” He stared into her eyes from under his dark brows.
Damn.
“I’m fine.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m okay.”
Marc’s piercing blue gaze bore into her. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”
Penny sighed, her embarrassment at being caught far outweighing her worries about her health. “I had some weird kind of chest pain or something, but I’m alright now.”
“Chest pain? That doesn’t sound good.”
Penny gave him a wry smile. “It’s okay,” she repeated. “Just some stress or something, I guess. I’m fine now.”
“No, you aren’t.” Marc grabbed one of her hands. Penny tried to snatch it away, but he held on. She was still shaking.
“Go and sit down and I’ll get you a cup of tea at least. You should go to the hospital if it’s chest pains.”
Penny shook her head in alarm. “No, I don’t need to go to hospital. But a cup of tea sounds good. Do you mind bringing it to me here? I’m not sure I could manage the greenroom right now.” She gave Marc a weak and pathetic smile. “And can you do me another favor?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t tell anyone what happened.”
For a moment, Marc seemed to consider, then he winked. “I won’t tell a soul.” Realizing that he still held her hand, he dropped it with a smile, and went to get her tea.
Penny slid back to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and leaning her head back. The concrete wall was cool against her back. Closing her eyes, she squeezed them together, screwing her whole face up, then letting it go, to try to relax.
“Penny! I can’t find the handkerchief!”
She sighed. That was Cerise, the production’s leading lady, and a diva of the highest degree. Outside of the theater, Cerise was tolerable, if annoying. Inside, she was demanding, lofty and just plain unlikeable.
But she needed the handkerchief for a key scene in the second act. And it was Penny’s job to make sure she had it.
It was probably still on the props table, exactly where it was supposed to be.
With a long-suffering sigh, Penny hauled herself to her feet and, wiping her eyes again, heavily made her way to the greenroom.
Around her, the buzz of conversation was thick. With a cast of more than twenty squeezed into the tiny greenroom of the community theater, it was only to be expected, but the overwhelming noise gave Penny an instant headache.
Of course, Cerise didn’t notice Penny’s pain-etched face, nor her dried-up tears.
“See? It’s not there.” Cerise pointed theatrically at the props table. Penny forced herself to breathe. There was no need to let Cerise get under her skin. All Penny had to do was find the handkerchief, and Cerise would go away.
But sure enough, the handkerchief was not there. Which was very strange, because Penny knew she had set it on the props table - not only did she tick off a list each time she set them, Penny loved the fine wisp of spidery crochet and delicate embroidery that made up the handkerchief. She always imagined it had been worked by some long-forgotten relative of one of the theater members - a grandmother or great-grandmother. It was lovely, delicate and exquisite.
And lost.
Penny raised her voice to be heard over the conversation. “Did someone pick up the lace hanky by mistake?” A pause in the conversation and a blank stare from everyone was her reply.
She added a note of impatience to her tone. “Come on people. Check your pockets, check the dressing rooms. It has to be somewhere.” A short flurry of activity failed to bring the handkerchief to light.
Marc came back, carrying Penny’s tea in a beat up ceramic mug.
“Marc, did you see the hanky?”
He looked to the props table, then looked puzzled as he carefully passed the hot drink to her. “Yeah, it was here where I checked the props for Act Two, only a few minutes ago.” He looked around. “How did it get over there?” He plucked the handkerchief from a bookshelf that stood alongside the props table. “You must have picked it up then put it down again,” he said to Cerise, who stood up tall, indignation written on her porcelain features.
“I did no such thing. You must have put it there by mistake.” She snatched the handkerchief out of Marc’s slack grasp and turned on her heel to flounce away.
Marc quirked an eyebrow at Penny, who shook her head with a smile and rolled her eyes.
He nodded his agreement with her silent appraisal of the situation, then his expression turned to one of concern. “Are you alright now? You should drink that tea before the curtain needs to go up again.”
Penny took a sip of the hot beverage, throwing a grateful look in Marc’s direction. “This is exactly what I needed. What would I do without you?” She was rewarded with a cocky half smile and a raised eyebrow, and Marc opened his mouth to say something.
“Five minutes,” they both heard through their headsets, which drowned out whatever it was Marc said. Penny relayed the message to the rest of the cast and crew before taking herself and her cuppa to the stage manager’s desk to start the second act.