Chapter Text
Sitting alone in the corner of Cornley Drama Society’s rehearsal space, Chris squinted at Trevor’s scrawled list about the set assembly. The room, marked heavily in tape in preparation for the set going up this week, was empty save for him. He made a few notes in his notebook- several with question marks- and moved the list atop the smaller of the two paper stacks.
As he looked over the budget (which had an alarming amount of red), he heard Trevor’s familiar footsteps. A firm pat to the arm and Trevor set down a breakfast bap and coffee in front of him. Absently murmuring thanks as Trevor walked off, Chris wracked his brains for where, exactly, they could save money.
He could feel a headache coming on, but he couldn’t justify stopping with his reinstatement still so new and fragile. Whilst he was grateful they’d made him director once more following Robert’s directorial debut (which he was trying not to be too smug about; but it was very, very difficult) rather than cycling though the cast, he was very aware that his failings had already lost him the mantle once. It could not be allowed to happen again; he would prove he was the right choice.
No mistakes was probably too much to ask for, but this next play was going to run as smoothly as possible- merely being better than Robert was far too low a bar. And no-one was going to be able to pin any mistakes on his abilities as director.
He’d chosen the play carefully, Shakespeare’s works were always popular, but William Shakespeare was far too well known to get away with any small errors. He’d briefly considered Colin Shakespeare’s The Court of King Stephen - Annie would be an excellent Empress Matilda. But had discarded that idea on the off chance that one or two members of the audience may have heard of it.
The Most Lamentable Tragedy of the Prince of England and His Long Lost Twin Brother, Prince Regent of France and the Problems Therein Experienced by All When they came to Know of One Another after a Battle was a solid pick: a good range of characters, a fairly decent plot and minimal special effects.
He’d been fairly confident with his casting: the cantankerous king was a character that Annie would enjoy. Sandra being the narrator meant she was actually supposed to look into the camera. Vanessa, who could always be relied upon to know her lines had a big role as the ambitious queen. Jonathan would be able to deliver Malcolm’s witty lines with style, hopefully being a jester would mask some of Dennis’.... Dennisness and Max always shone with good characters with simple motivations.
He himself, Chris mused, tended to do better with villainous characters- or antiheroes. Prince Richard was an intriguing role, he was going to enjoy playing him.
It would go well. It had to, he wouldn’t allow it to be anything else. He finished his list of things to cover with the cast with an underlined ‘Go through plot with Dennis’ and looked up to the door opening. It was Annie entering.
Checking his watch he realised that the cast would be arriving in the next half hour or so (longer for Robert, who was making everything needlessly difficult in protest). Trevor was grumbling at what looked to be the start of the drawbridge. Chris watched for a few seconds to determine if he needed help. As his swearing appeared to be more grumpiness at the drawbridge mechanism rather than anything Chris could actually assist with, Chris opened his emails.
Writing a e-mail reminder to submit their cost plans for their Drama Festival contributions in the next week. And stressing that all proposed special effects needed to be run past Trevor and preferably himself he heard Annie approach, looking unsure. This was unusual, unless there was an emergency Annie tended to leave him alone when he was doing paperwork.
“Chris, have you got a sec?” Annie was uncharacteristically hesitant. Alarm shot through Chris, had something happened? Was she going to break the unspoken agreement to not talk about the coup?
Chris pushed his papers aside to give her his full attention, “Yes. Is everything ok?”
She hesitated, “I don’t think I should be playing the King.” Chris was taken aback, this was not what he expected from Annie, who threw herself wholeheartedly into every character. Unless…
“Has Robert been bothering you?” It came out sharper than he’d have liked. He’d been (smugly) content to ignore Robert’s grumbling at the smallness of his role, but if he was harassing the others then he would need to intervene. And that would end poorly. He noticed Max and Sandra enter, together as usual.
Annie shook her head quickly, looking alarmed, “No. No. It’s just the king gets carried into scenes. It’s gonna go wrong, and I don’t want to injure anyone again.” By the end she had such a characteristic look of determination on her face that Chris nearly didn’t pick up on the importance of that last word.
“Again, Annie?” He said it as gently as he could. This felt important, he’d missed whatever had knocked Annie’s confidence as an actor and, recent coup or not, it was his directorial duty to fix it.
“You had to take Vanessa to the walk-in centre after last week because I-”
Chris interrupted, voice firm; “That wasn’t your fault. You and Vanessa both did as you were told, and when you noticed she got hurt, you tried to change it to avoid injury. It was an accident, you did everything you could to avoid it.”
It was the director’s duty to ensure that the simple act of opening a window wouldn’t concuss another actor, and repeating the scene twice was an act of madness. After the play, he’d taken Vanessa and Max for medical attention but hadn’t checked in on how the others were doing, still uncertain of the shaky ground of not being director. He regretted that now.
“But if I fell, or was too heavy that’d be my fault.”
“And as director it’d be my responsibility. Look, I’ve talked with Trevor and he’s agreed to have a walk-on role for this one. He’ll be carrying the litter along with Max or Robert. I’ve sent them all material on manual handling” he smirked, “and there will be a quiz so I know they’ve all read it.”
Annie glanced over to where Trevor was painting the drawbridge, shocked. Trevor, always adamant that he never, ever wanted to appear on stage, agreeing to be her Litter-bearer would hopefully convince her how seriously he and Chris were taking Health and Safety.
Chris continued; “If you really don’t want to play the king, then I’ll come up with another plan. But I don’t think anyone in the company would play it half as well as you. You always give an excellent performance. I know things aren’t perfect, but you are one of my more reliable actors.”
Just then, there was an oddly wet metal noise. Trevor swearing drew both of their attention and they turned to see Max, one foot inexplicably in the drawbridge paint tin, sheepishly apologising to a mildly annoyed Trevor.
Chris sighed, “as much damned by faint praise as that may be.”
Annie laughed, seemingly delighted with the words of praise, “Thanks Chris. If you’re sure, I’ll play the King. I think he’s gonna be a lot of fun.”
“I’m very sure Annie.” Chris stood, “If you do have any other concerns, please come to me” (rather than having another coup he did not say), and then, sighing “Could you please find Sandra and ask her to bring Max some spare shoes?”
Annie nodded, still grinning, making Chris pleased he’d managed to do something right. He made his way towards the now paint-splattered bit of floor to help Trevor- “How difficult is it to look where you’re going, mate?”- wrestle the paint tin off Max’s foot.
The play could be a disaster, there could always be another coup, but he knew he could count on Annie to give her all to this performance.