The Dressmaker Part 21

'Gigot de Dinde Farcie with stuffed lovage and vine leaves, globe artichokes with ravigote sauce,' said Tilly and placed the roasted fowl on the table.

The inspector looked disappointed and shot a questioning glance at Sergeant Farrat, pulled the chair at the head of the table out, sat down and rolled his sleeves up.

The sergeant carved, Tilly served, and the inspector started eating. Sergeant Farrat poured the wine, sniffed his gla.s.s then toasted Tilly.

'You're a very noisy eater, Inspector,' said Tilly.

'I'm enjoying your stuffed ...' The inspector caught sight of the galah, preening itself on the curtain rail.

'It's turkey,' said the sergeant.

'We're not enjoying ours, so eat with your mouth closed,' Tilly scolded.

'Yes ma'am.'

They polished off all there was to drink (the inspector brought beer) and Tilly offered cigarettes to the men. The sergeant lit his and inhaled, while the inspector sniffed his and said, 'Unusual. Peruvian?'

'Close,' she said, 'British Honduras.'

'Aaahhh,' said the inspector appreciatively. She held a match to his cigarette. Tilly played loud music and they danced an independent, jumping, goose-stepping twirl around the kitchen table, to the sound of Micky Katz playing an accelerating rendition of 'The Wedding Samba'. They danced on top of the table to every other tune that featured on the record Music for Weddings and Bar mitzvahs. Then they dived off the kitchen table into each other's arms and danced flamenco on the cement hearth, they played drums with wooden spoons and saucepans and they danced some more rumbas and sambas and a Highland fling then collapsed into a chair each, puffing and laughing, holding the st.i.tches in their sides.

The inspector suddenly stood and said, 'Well, we must be off,' and rolled out the door. Tilly's mop-head sat over his bald patch. Sergeant Farrat shrugged and followed, serviettes poking through the epaulets on his red Eton jacket.

Tilly stood, her hands on her hips and her brow creased. 'Where are you going?'

'I'm compelled to do my 9:00 pm drive around,' said Sergeant Farrat regretfully and rolled his eyes at the inspector.

Frank swayed knee-deep in her small purple hemlock tree, its white flowers bleeding small droplets of foul perfume onto his trousers. 'Wanna come?'

'You can't be seen with me,' said Tilly, 'I'm the town murderess.'

Frank laughed and waved and fell into the police car. Sergeant Farrat tooted farewell as they drove off. Tilly wandered back inside. She looked at the galah and said, 'I can start now, there's nothing to be afraid of.' She surveyed the soft-coloured piles calico, boxcloth, satin, silk, vicuna and velveteen, petersham ribbon, lace ribbons, paper flowers, plastic gems and gilded cardboard, all for the Baroque costumes. She wandered to her mother's bedroom where she kept the soft creamy beiges and blue-white pique, the poplin, ninon, lisle, organdie, silk, lace and d.u.c.h.esse for the b.a.l.l.s, christenings and weddings, then went back to look at the tape measures, pins, b.u.t.tons and mannequins in corners, waiting, between the rooms. Sergeant Farrat's secret wardrobe hung in a locked cupboard next to the front door. Her foot rested on scissors lying on the floor where she did her cutting. Baroque sketches were pegged to the curtains and her concertina file containing the cast's measurements sprang open on the floor.

She swapped her swanskin for overalls and found a mallet and a jemmy. She tore down the curtains and covered all the materials and machines with them, then stood in front of the wall that divided the kitchen from the lounge room, spat on her palms, lifted the mallet and swung. She hammered until she'd made a sizable hole, then jemmied the boards from their bearers. She repeated the process until all that was left between the kitchen and lounge room were old pine beams, covered in fine black dust. She removed the doors and walls from between the bedrooms and the lounge room in the same way then unscrewed the door k.n.o.bs. She wheeled the splintered planks with rusty nails and her old bed down to the tip in her mother's wheelchair. She returned to her remodelled house and nailed two doors together, then attached them to her kitchen table. At dawn she stood next to the great big cutting table in the huge open plan workshop and smiled.

She was covered in dirt and cobwebs, so drew a hot bath. While she soaked she hummed and held her toe against the nozzle, blocking the drips until water forced its way around her toe and sprayed out in a thin sharp thread.

30.

The residents of Dungatar a.s.sembled at the hall to audition for the Dungatar Social Committee's production of Macbeth. Irma Almanac rolled in and positioned her chair at the end of the aisle next to Tilly. Nancy nudged Ruth and said Hmph and the auditioners looked sideways at them. Irma was not wearing black: her white high heels sat awkwardly on the footplates and her dress was fire engine red.

Most people chose to read a poem or sing for their audition, although the district inspector did a soft shoe shuffle. The producer and director retired backstage to discuss casting and make their decisions, and then they made the announcements.

Trudy spoke first. 'I am the director so everyone must do what I say.'

'And I am the producer so therefore I am in charge of everything, including the director.'

Trudy turned to her mother-in-law. 'Strictly speaking Elsbeth, however '

'Would you please read the cast list, Trudy?'

'I am, as I said, the director and I am also Lady Macbeth. The part of Macbeth General and future King goes to ...'

William braced himself.

'Lesley Muncan!'

There was a general rumble of approval and a smattering of applause. Lesley had put everything into his audition. Mona leaned and kissed his cheek as he fluttered his eyelashes and blushed. William looked at the floor.

Trudy cleared her throat and continued, 'William can be Duncan ...' Sergeant Farrat, Fred Bundle, Big Bobby, the inspector, Scotty and Reg nudged each other and shook their heads and when Trudy said, '... and his sons Malcolm and Donalbain will be Bobby Pickett and Scotty ...' they rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. 'Septimus Crescant will be Seward and Sergeant Farrat will be Banquo but Banquo gets sort of killed by mistake. Whenever any of you are not Banquo or Duncan or King you are attendants, lords, officers, messengers and murderers. Purl, you are Lady Macduff. The witches are Faith, Nancy and the district inspector.' The cast shuffled and whispered together.

'I wanted to be a witch,' came a faint voice.

'Mona, I told you, you're the ghost and an attendant.'

'But I haven't got a line to say.'

'Mona, there are only three witches in the play.'

Nancy stepped forward, 'My Lady Macduff was better than Purl's '

'I'm a bloke I don't see why I should be a witch,' whined the inspector.

Elsbeth sprang. 'There will be no squabbling or you will be told to leave!' She glared at the cast. The inspector cracked the heels of his shoes together and bobbed his head up and down quickly.

Elsbeth looked to Trudy. 'Control your cast,' she snapped.

Trudy sucked in her cheeks and said, 'Mrs Almanac you are wardrobe mistress.' Irma looked down at her swollen knuckles and loose fingers. 'I'll make some tomorrow,' said Tilly. 'Double strength.'

Several nights into rehearsal, things were progressing slowly.

'Right,' said the director, 'Banquo and Macbeth, enter now.'

'So foul and fair a day I have not seen.'

'How far is't call'd to Forres? ...'

'STOP, stop for a moment please. Erm, that's very good now, Sergeant '

'Banquo ...'

'Banquo then. The kilt is good but no one else has a Scottish accent and the bagpipes aren't necessary either.'

Hamish was in charge of props and staging. Trudy approached him, 'Why are you building a balcony, Mr O'Brien?'

'For the love scene.'

'That's Romeo and Juliet.'

'Aye.'

'We're doing Macbeth.'

Hamish blinked at her.

'It's the one about the ambitious soldier's wife who convinces her weak husband to kill the King. It's set in Scotland.'

The high red colour drained from Hamish's cheeks, 'The Scottish play?' he hissed.

'You have to make forests that walk and a ghost,' said Trudy.

'I've been lied to,' cried Hamish, 'by that b.l.o.o.d.y Septimus!' He dropped his tools and ran from the hall.

February pa.s.sed quickly for Tilly. She rose early each day to sew costumes in the morning light and organise fittings or alterations. She hummed as she worked. In the evenings she sometimes wandered down to sit at the back of the hall and watch the towns.h.i.+p of Dungatar rehea.r.s.e.

The citizens looked increasingly stressed and tired and didn't seem to be enjoying themselves at all. Trudy sat in the front row.

'Begin again, Scene Three,' she croaked she had lost her voice.

Septimus, Big Bobby, Sergeant Farrat, Reginald, Purl and Fred moved nervously to their places on the stage.

'Enter Porter ... I can't hear you Porter,' called the director.

'I'm not saying anything.'

'Why not?'

'Because I can't remember my next line.' Faith burst into tears. The other actors rushed to her.

The director threw down her script. 'Oh jolly good, let's have another five-ruddy-minute break while someone else has a bawl any other lousy actors here feel like a bit of a bawl? Oh you do, do you?'

'No.'

'Well why are you holding your arm up again?'

'I want to ask another question.'

Trudy blinked at the Attendant Bobby Pickett standing on the stage. 'No, you can't ask another question,' she said.

'Why can't he?' Elsbeth walked out onto the stage and stood beside Bobby.

'Because I said so.'

'You're not a very considerate director, Gertrude.'

William went and sat in a corner next to Mona and put his head in his hands.

'I suppose you think you could do better?' snarled Trudy.

'I know I could. Anyone could.'

They stared at each other. 'You're fired.'

'You can't fire the producer, you silly girl.'

Trudy stepped close to Elsbeth and, leaning down over her, yelled, 'You're always telling me what I can't do. I can do anything I want. Now get out.'

'No.'

'Go.' She pointed at the door.

'If I go, so does the rest of the funding!'

William looked up hopefully. His mother continued, counting on her fingers. 'There's the hall hire, transport, not to mention the set and we can't have the soldiers' costumes until we've paid the balance.'

'Oh ... f ... fiddlesticks,' said Trudy and clenched her fists at her temples.

Faith started bawling again. The cast threw up their hands or threw down their scripts and William came to the front of the stage. 'Mother you're ruining it for everyone '

'Me? It's not ME that's ruining it!'

Tilly, watching from a dark corner, smiled.

Purl stepped forward. 'Yes you are, you keep interrupting ...'

'How dare you, you're just a '

'She knows what you think she is,' bellowed Fred and stepped to Purl's side.

'Yes,' said Purl and pointed a red fingernail at Els-beth, 'and I know what your husband thought you were.'

'And anyway, Elsbeth, I can pay for the soldiers' costumes, I've still got all the house insurance money in the post office safe,' cried Ruth, triumphantly.

Everyone turned to stare at her.

'Haven't you sent it to the insurance company yet?' asked Nancy.