Breaking the Ice (12 page)

‘
Pinch your nostrils together hard and keep it like that for ten minutes,’ Jimmy informed her, taking the material from her and holding her hand in place.

Samantha turned her head slightly to look at him and saw, to her horror, he was bare-chested. She couldn’t help but gasp out loud and her hand came away from her nose, letting more blood escape.

‘
What are you doing? You’ve got to keep holding it for ten minutes and make it stop or you’ll be going to the emergency room,’ Jimmy ordered her.

‘
Where’s your shirt?! You can’t sit here like that! This is a main street!’ Samantha exclaimed in horror.

‘
What did you think was mopping up your blood? Come on Sam, keep it pinched,’ Jimmy told her, again using his top to mop the blood from her face.

‘
Please, go and get another shirt. There are shops, just there,’ Samantha told him, pointing and again taking her hands away from her nose.

‘
Will you stop worrying about what I’m wearing and keep still?’ Jimmy spoke and he put his hands over hers and pinched her nose together tightly.

With her nostrils held together so tightly she could no longer speak. That meant there was nothing else to focus on but Jimmy’s torso. It was perfection. Not a hair in sight, well defined pecs and abdominal muscles. The combination was certainly an advertisement for ice skating as a form of exercise. And even better, there was no sign of a tattoo or nipple ring. It was the longest ten minutes of her life, sat next to a gorgeous man with no top on, in the middle of
the high street
, blood stains on her face, mute.

Finally Jimmy let go of her hands and allowed Samantha to stop pinching. He closely
scrutinised
her nose.

‘
I think it’s stopped. Just don’t touch it or sneeze or cough or anything - not for a while at least,’ Jimmy instructed.

‘
Well for how long? I mean you don’t always know when you’re going to need to cough or sneeze. What if it happens and I can’t stop it?’ Samantha queried, studying her bloodied fingers.

‘
I have a car. How close is the nearest hospital?’ Jimmy asked her, putting on a serious expression.

‘
I can’t go to a hospital, I can’t…’ Samantha began, feeling panicked once more.

‘
Will you relax? It was a joke. Jeez, is there anything you aren’t scared of?’ Jimmy queried.

‘
I’m not scared of hospitals, I just wouldn’t want to waste their time. I had a nose bleed that’s all. Thanks for your help and for your shirt, I can arrange to replace it and...’ Samantha began as she rose to her feet and tried not to look any more at Jimmy’s bare chest.

It was like a
Greek Adonis meets the Chippendales.

‘
There won’t be any need for that. I never really liked it anyway - unwanted gift. OK, the nosebleed I get, you hit your face on the floor, but the panic attacks are becoming a real issue,’ Jimmy told her, his tone serious.

‘
How many more times? I don’t have panic attacks! I just fainted a bit, it was hot that’s all. I overheat when it’s hot, ask anyone. No air conditioning in the foyer, a design flaw but it’s an old building. I’ve got to get back to work,’ Samantha spoke, looking at her watch and nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

‘
Before they close the Civic Hall down?’ Jimmy responded.

He
watched the colour disappear from her face and her eyes widen. Straight away she swayed on her feet and Jimmy quickly stood up, took her firmly by the arm and made her sit back down on the bench next to him.

‘
What do you know about that?’ Samantha spoke in no more than a whisper.

She was scared if she talked any louder it would make her worst fear closer to becoming the truth.

‘
I know that guy from the council was talking to you about their audit of the hall. While you were unconscious he told us he thought he’d upset you with the news. He didn’t say too much more because Dave had to escort him to his office when he started to have an angina attack,’ Jimmy informed her.

‘
They’re just looking into the finances that’s all. It’ll be fine, we’re very profitable. I mean stock control can sometimes be a concern but we’re getting through the worst of that and action will be taken,’ Samantha responded. Three thousand five hundred and one iced Berry Fruits was better than four thousand.

‘
I’m sure he’ll be OK. He had medication with him,’ Jimmy answered her, referring back to Mr Radcliffe.

‘
Who did?’ Samantha answered, her mind unable to focus on anything but the plight of her beloved Civic Hall.

‘
Mr Radcliffe? His angina?’ Jimmy reminded.

‘
Angina is very common in a man of his age, perfectly treatable. D’you think he had a chance to look at Dave’s awful pie chart projections? Because I don’t think a pie chart is the best way to display the figures and I know Dave only does that because he has some sort of affinity with pies but…’ Samantha gabbled.

‘
What will you do if the hall closes?’ Jimmy asked her bluntly.

‘
The hall isn’t going to close! There’s been a hall here since 1947. It’s tradition, it’s our heritage, it…’ Samantha started enthusiastically.

‘
It doesn’t have a website so people can book online. It has a larger capacity than other venues round here but it doesn’t attract big named acts. The menu in the restaurant needs updating, and so does the décor,’ Jimmy spoke.

Samantha just stared at him, her mouth almost hanging open. What was he saying? Wheat Dream had only been on the walls a year or so.

‘
And it isn’t in a great area, I mean the West End is where people want to be. That’s where the real nostalgia is, that’s the place to be seen.’

‘
The West End is overrated, the tickets are overpriced and people don’t always want to watch tired musicals and plays, they want variety and the Civic Hall gives them that,’ Samantha spoke passionately.

‘
It needs updating, revamping and reinventing. All those things I said, the website, the menu - I’ve just thought of those off the top of my head and I know nothing about running a venue. But you do. I think you could manage the hall a whole lot better than Dave. I suspect a great deal of the finances go on his wages, when the staff around him are actually doing the hard work. Maybe it’s time for a change of leadership,’ Jimmy suggested to her.

‘
I don’t know where all this is coming from, I mean Mr Radcliffe said they were just doing a preliminary look into the running of this hall and the other council run hall in the district, the Presbook Centre. Preliminary means there’s no need to panic doesn’t it? I mean preliminary means the beginning of a long drawn out, well considered investigation, with lots of meetings and public consultation,’ Samantha spoke quickly as her mind whirred with thoughts.

‘
I guess it could mean that, but if I were you I’d want to start acting now. You need to ensure whatever he does find leaves him in no doubt which hall he should save,’ Jimmy told her.

‘
It isn’t my place, Dave’s…’ Samantha began.

‘
From what I’ve seen, the only person Dave cares about is himself. He doesn’t care about the heritage or the history and I don’t think he could save the hall even if he wanted to,’ Jimmy spoke sincerely.

‘
I can’t start implementing new ideas over Dave’s head, he’s the manager and…’ Samantha responded, her mind actually aching with all the thoughts bubbling around inside it.

‘
Well it’s up to you. I’m just shooting my mouth off, but I think the hall could have a great future. It just needs some time and effort to be invested in it by someone who has real enthusiasm,’ Jimmy said.

‘
It won’t come to anything. No, there’s no need to panic. This isn’t the first time the council’s had to juggle their amenities budget. They always make it work out in the end,’ Samantha spoke, sounding less than convinced in her own words.

‘
Yeah of course and what would I know anyway, all I know is ice skating. Listen, I’d better get back or Dana will eat me for breakfast - again,’ Jimmy said, standing up and giving Samantha a full length view of his torso.

‘
OK,’ Samantha responded, hurriedly averting her gaze to the floor.

‘
See you at the show tonight,’ Jimmy spoke.

‘
Yeah, the show,’ Samantha responded, without lifting her gaze from the concrete paving.

What was she going to do? Why was this happening? All she had to worry about for the last few years was ticket sales and preview guides. OK, so the hall
was dated, but it was also familiar and comfortable. It was like a well-worn baggy jumper you’d had since you were fifteen and just couldn’t bear to part with. It was
her
comfortable baggy jumper. And it
ticked along. But Jimmy was right, ticking along wasn’t enough. She was always saying herself about the acts being tired and repetitive, perhaps if they attracted a different type of show they would bring in a whole different kind of audience. Out with the Blue Rinse Brigade singing ‘Roll out the Barrel’ when
Wartime Warbles
came to visit and in with the twenty first century and
psychological
illusionists like Derren Brown. They could get more bands, something Cleo would approve of, more original acts instead of cover groups and the conference rooms were never fully
utilised
, perhaps they could advertise. And they definitely needed a website. But what if the council had already made up its mind? What if, on today’s visit alone, Mr Radcliffe had decided the Civic Hall was not worthy of the lion’s share of the amenities budget? Even if he hadn’t made a decision yet, how was she going to convince the council where best to invest its funds? After her dramatic hyperventilating and collapsing, he was probably wondering what sort of lunatic was working the box office of the hall. Her word wouldn’t count for anything. She had no authority, the only thing to do would be to try to convince Dave of what needed to be done. She would do what she usually did, she would steer Dave towards her conclusions and make it seem like it was all his idea in the first place. He liked that.

Samantha raised her head from the floor and caught sight of her blood stained hands. The first thing she needed to do was have a wash.

Eight

Samantha couldn’t get the blood out from under her fingernails, no matter how hard she rubbed. She had never been convinced about the performance of the brand of hand soap in the ladies toilets and now the inadequacy was confirmed. It would usually have been something she would
report immediately to Dave, but in the light of today’s events, it probably wouldn’t be on the top of the manager’s agenda.

What was she going to do? In little more than an hour, her whole world had come crashing down. She couldn’t possibly imagine her life without the Civic Hall. She barely remembered what her life was like before the Civic Hall, except that she had been a victim of the Witches of Woolston, the catty girls who’d worked alongside her at the shoe shop. They had giggled and laughed to themselves over the kitten heels and wedges, looking Samantha up and down and undermining her confidence at every turn. They’d talked loudly about who they had shagged, who they would like to shag and who they were definitely going to shag at the weekend. Somehow they knew about her virgin status like it was tattooed on her forehead.

The job at the Civic Hall had saved her. She felt like she had a place there and a purpose. There was a feeling of belonging as she walked through the door each day. OK, Dave was a pain and her colleagues weren’t as dedicated to the job as she was, but they didn’t laugh at her (at least she didn’t think they did) and they kept their private lives to themselves, well apart from Felicity filling her in about her latest disastrous relationship and Jane updating her on her disabled mother’s varicose veins. If the hall closed, what were the chances of finding somewhere else that made her feel like she fitted?

Samantha took a deep breath and splashed her face with water. She looked at herself in the mirror. She was beginning to look like her mother when she frowned. In a few decades it could be her in a retirement bungalow by the sea, knitting for other people’s grandchildren, probably still virginal.

She swept her hair back behind her ears and swallowed. She needed to compose herself and get the full story on the council’s plans from Dave.

When she opened the door to his office without knocking, he almost fell out of his chair. He had a half consumed Ginsters pasty in one hand and his other hand was concealed inside a family sized packet of ready salted crisps.

‘
Ah Samantha! I was just going to come and look for you,’ Dave spoke, hurriedly opening a drawer to hide the pasty.

Samantha sat down in the chair opposite his desk.

‘
Don’t worry, the front desk is manned. I passed Felicity on the way here and she’s happy to have a late lunch. I’ll relieve her as soon as we’ve spoken,’ Samantha said.

‘
No matter Duck, I was concerned about you. Are you feeling OK? You took a nasty tumble,’ Dave said, spraying crisps across the desk as he tried to remove the packet from the workspace.

‘
Dave, did you know Mr Radcliffe was coming today? Did you know about the council’s plan?’ Samantha asked bluntly, looking at her boss with wide, frightened eyes.