RESTING

Forty years in the theatre. The regulars knew Ursula, the shape of her large spectacles behind the ticket office glass.

The theatre owner, Bob, suggested now was a good time for her to retire and had an idea she might just like. He handed her a glossy leaflet.

‘Go here?’ Ursula asked, looking at the leaflet for the Ophelia Rest Home.

Impressive place, he said. It’s for actresses, theatre and screen. Now and then they let in a wardrobe mistress, makes for a nice mix I suppose. I see no harm in me trying to pull a few strings. I’m fond of you Ursula, you’re like the aunt I never had. It seems to me if I cover the cost of Ophelia’s – then you will need for nothing more.

‘Actresses don’t like me,’ Ursula said proudly.

‘There’ll be all sorts, not just the testy theatre types,’ Bob said.

‘I have my flat, a cat,’ Ursula said. Then she was reminded the flat above the theatre would be going to the new front-of-house person. She would have to bid farewell to Mousetrap, for the cat never left the theatre. It would be terribly