Read Online The Art of Standing Still by Penny Culliford - Free Book Online Page B

the competition. There were four other women. Two looked well over sixty, so Jemma dismissed them. A dark-haired woman sat demurely with her ankles crossed on a blue plastic chair. Another woman, vaguely familiar, a blonde with a short skirt and high heels, was on her mobile phone, speaking loudly with animated gestures. She wore an ankle bracelet, large hooped earrings, and far too much makeup. Jemma wondered if she was attempting to portray the shadier side of Mary Magdalene’s reputation.
    â€˜Alistair, you’re late!’ the woman screeched into her phone. ‘You’ve made me look really stupid, standing in this hall, waiting for you. I’ve got better things to do.’
    Amanda Fry! Of course. Jemma hadn’t recognised her sober. The woman glanced around at the stares and lowered her voice.
    Jemma pulled her hairbrush from her bag and groomed her hair, brushing out the kinks, and letting it hang smooth and straight, like a dark curtain to frame her face. The scrawny, bird-like woman the vicar had pointed out earlier approached the motley quintet. She carried a notebook and pen.
    â€˜Evening, ladies. I’m Harlan Westacre, and I’ll be putting you through your paces tonight. Right, who’s first?’ She glanced at Jemma, but one of the older women put up her hand.
    â€˜I’ll do it.’ She jumped to her feet and grabbed a CD player. ‘Where do you want me?’
    Harlan gestured towards a corner of the hall. The woman turned on the CD and proceeded to sing ‘Tomorrow’ from the musical Annie in a wavering soprano. Jemma covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smirk.
    Harlan was kinder to the
woman than she deserved and pointed out Ronnie Mardle for her, suggesting she talk to him about a possible future in amateur operatics.
    The second woman muttered her way through Lady Macbeth’s ‘out damned spot’ speech while Harlan made notes. At the end Harlan thanked the woman and said she would be letting her know. Jemma knew she meant she wouldn’t be letting her know.
    Harlan smiled at Jemma, who stood up, took a breath to still herself, as she had been taught, and proceeded with her monologue. As she spoke Viola’s words, a hush descended around her. She tried not to notice heads were turning. She was good and she knew it. At the end there was a smattering of applause, and Jemma was tempted to bow.
    â€˜Brava!’ cried Harlan, scribbling notes on her pad. The mousy-looking woman stood up and whispered something to Harlan.
    â€˜Are you sure, dear?’
    â€˜Yes, I’m sure,’ the woman said and scuttled for the door.
    â€˜Well, Jemma Durham. It looks as if you’ve got the part.’
    â€˜What about her?’ Jemma glanced towards Amanda Fry, who was still on the phone.
    â€˜Excuse me.’ Harlan waved her hand in front of Amanda’s face.
    Amanda put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. ‘What?’
    â€˜Are you going to audition for the part?’
    â€˜I’m waiting till my husband gets here.’
    â€˜Why, is he auditioning for the role of Mary Magdalene too?’ Harlan smiled.
    â€˜Can I have all the Jesuses over here, please?’ Ronnie Mardle’s precise enunciations drowned out Amanda’s snide reply. Half a dozen men climbed on the stage, and the audition started.
    Harlan drew Jemma to one side. ‘I’m sorry, I’d give you the part like a shot, but I’ve got to make it look fair. Alistair Fry is a vital link in this project – financially, if you get my drift. Without him and his filthy lucre, we’d be up the creek.’
    It wouldn’t look fair if the part went to Amanda Fry just because she’s the Councillor’s wife either. But it wouldn’t surprise Jemma if it happened.
    Jemma sat down to wait. She pulled out her notebook and began scrawling shorthand across the page.
    â€˜Joshua? Joshua Wood next please,’ Ronnie called