Secret Daddy(7)

By: Lucy Wild

“We’ve been through this,” Erica replied. “We won’t know unless we try. The posters have all been printed after all.”

“And I didn’t appreciate having to write cancelled on every one. Can’t we sue Nancy? Get some of the cost back?”

“What’s this?” I asked. “Am I missing something?”

“Oh, where do I begin?” Erica said. “Well, we were hoping to put on a play because the playwright lives here.”

“About Last Night?”

“Right, you know it?”

“Not really. I saw the poster outside. Is it a good one?”

“It’s incredible. It was huge in its time but he hasn’t given anyone permission to perform it for years.”

“Why not?”

“There’s a bit near the end where one of the characters is tied up in rope. Unfortunately someone died performing it and ever since then he’s refused to give his consent. I think he blames himself for what happened but it was just an accident.”

“Were you thinking of asking him?”

“We thought Nancy had.”


“Nancy. She was in charge of the group until she moved. She promised us she’d gotten permission from him to perform it, swore it was all done and dusted. Of course, once we started rehearsing, we found out the truth that she made it up.”

“Wait, it wasn’t Nancy Miller, was it?”

“Oh, did you know her?” the teenage girl opposite me asked. “She wasn’t a relative of yours was she?”

“No, I just bought her house.”

“I see.”

“She left me a note telling me not to join this group.”

“I bet she did,” Henry said. “Lying cow.”

“Henry!” Erica snapped. “That’s not like you.”

“Well, serves her right. Getting all our hopes up like that then upping sticks and moving. I bet that’s why she went.”

“She went because she got a job in Edinburgh,”

“She went because she was a coward. I never liked her.”

“Anyway,” Erica said, putting on a polite smile. “The reason we were all so excited was that there’s been this big hoohaa over the years about persuading him to let the play be performed again. There’s a trust in London that have offered a big grant to whoever performs it first and it can’t have escaped your attention that we’re not in the most palatial of locations.”

“You can say that again,” Henry said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the roof caves in while we sit here. Especially as Nigel said the name of the Scottish play last week.”

“I did apologise for that,” Nigel replied.

“Who wrote it?” I asked.

“Shakespeare of course.”

“No, About Last Night.”

“George Atherton. He lives at the old farm along Westcott Lane. Do you know it?”

“Of course she doesn’t know it,” Erica snapped. “She’s only just moved here, Nigel.”

“We’ve all asked him,” Nigel said. “Practically every theatrical company in the country has asked him at one time or another.”

“We should put something else on,” Henry said. “We’ll raise the money from ticket sales.”

“It’s twenty thousand,” Erica replied. “It would take us years to get that sort of cash together and by then the roof really might have caved in, that leak by the changing rooms is getting worse. The wall was soaked after last night’s storm.”

“What about the new girl?” Nigel asked, nodding towards me.

“What about her?”

“Why doesn’t she ask him?”

“Oh, Nigel, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“She’s young, she’s pretty, she’s as much chance as anyone else.”

“That’s a bit sexist, Nigel,” Henry said.

“Thank you.”

“No,” he sighed. “That’s not a good thing.”

“We’re wandering from the point,” Erica said.

“What happened when you asked him?” I asked. “Did he say why he wouldn’t give you permission?”

▶ Also By Lucy Wild

▶ Hot Read

▶ Last Updated

▶ Recommend

Top Books