Hay Fever at the Theatre Royal, Kirhall

Amanda, forty-ish. She’s in a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, a dark mid-calf skirt and old black boots. Her hair is pinned up on her head. She is wearing a wraparound apron that covers her clothes. There’s a tin bucket and scrubbing brush at her side. She’s leaning on a wooden broom.
 
Hello, do come in! You’ve come to look around. Do bear with me, I’m still tidying up. Actors – such messy people. Just look at this stage – it’s had everything dropped on it over the years. Fake blood. Greasepaint. Tea. Unmentionable things that time we did the Nativity. And muggins here gets to clear it all up of course.

This little theatre’s a part of my life. I met my husband here. He was in East Lynne – you know, the one with the line ‘Dead! Dead! And never called me mother’. There’s a picture of the cast over there. The lady mayoress played Isabel Vane. She was – shall we say – statuesque. Not quite a beautiful and forlorn young woman. He was so wonderful in the play, and so good looking. I started to help out at the theatre just to get to know him. Not on stage, you know – I could never do that – but making tea at rehearsals, helping with props, sweeping the stage after shows. I love hearing that buzz as the audience settle, and then the moment of quiet as the curtain rises, just before the applause starts.

Have you seen all the posters and photos in the entrance? They are from every show we’ve done. You can see my John in them. I’ll show you on your way out. They’ve got a bit dusty, but I’ve only got one pair of hands.

Watch your step – that’s the trapdoor. It’s a bit wobbly. John played the Demon King in a show for the children. They all screamed as he rose up out of the stage in a cloud of smoke. I have to admit that I did too.

John’s such a good actor. I go through his lines with him every night when he is in a play, and his work is so good about letting him take time off for a Wednesday matinee. I think they like having an employee with his name in lights.

There haven’t been any shows lately. I think people are a lot busier now.

​That, up there? That’s the bar. It’s so beautiful. The wooden bar is as smooth as silk. When I polish the wood, the room fills with the smell of beeswax and lavender. It’s dark up there now but when the lights go on, the stained-glass lampshades glow and the wood shines.

We’ve got a green room, and dressing rooms for the ladies and gents. No room for one for the star, but everyone mucks in together.

My John’s in Hay Fever. There’s the poster over there. They say it will all be over by Christmas, but while we’re waiting, people still need to have some fun.

As the curtain fell, I was backstage as always, with my broom and my bucket and my scrubbing brush. I heard planes, and an explosion. No-one left their seats. I wonder where it landed. Those poor folk.

Mind how you go down there – it’s really uneven, and the light’s not working. I’ve been waiting ages for them to sort it out.

Anything else you want to know? I’m sorry you’ve had to do with me, but there’s no-one else around. It’s just I’ve got a lot to do. I need to check out the dressing rooms, as someone always leaves something behind. And I’ve got to get the stage clean. These stains are hard to shift.

The curtain goes up at 3. Always a matinee on Wednesday. Don’t be late – everyone loves Hay Fever.