Sophie dragged her suitcase through the front door. ‘Hi honey, I’m home,’ she called. Michael appeared from the study wearing a stained grey t-shirt and black jeans. As he kissed her on the cheek, she smelt beer on his breath. She had taken the early flight, it wasn’t even lunch time. She put her arms around him and hugged him. His arms remained at his sides.
He pointed at Izzy who sauntered down the hallway. ‘She missed you,’ he said. He went back into the study, sat at the desk and gazed at the computer monitor.
After unpacking her suitcase and putting on a load of washing, Sophie sat on the couch in the lounge room and leafed through the Healthy Living magazine she had bought at the airport on the way home. Izzy padded her lap before settling down to sleep.
Michael walked in carrying a DVD. He stood in front of the bookshelf with his back to her, finding the empty slot he had taken it from. ‘Aren’t you going to the gym today?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Sophie. ‘I haven’t been for a week.’
He turned to look at her and frowned. ‘That’s not like you.’
‘Do you have a minute? There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Terry and Paul said they’d come over this afternoon. Can’t we do it later?’
‘It won’t take long.’ She pointed to the armchair. ‘Sit down for a second.’
Michael sat, but remained perched on the edge of the chair. He sighed. ‘Well…?’
‘I haven’t been to the gym because my dieting and training have been out of control.’ She swallowed, trying to ease the tremble in her voice. ‘I don’t think it’s normal to be so obsessed about how I look all the time. It’s hard to admit, but I might have an eating disorder.’
‘You’re not serious? What eating disorder?’
‘Binging and purging with exercise. They call it exercise bulimia.’ She didn’t mention the laxatives. She was too ashamed.
‘Eating disorders are for teenage girls who want attention,’ he said. ‘Don’t be so bloody over-dramatic. There’s nothing wrong with you.’
Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes. She looked down at her lap hoping he wouldn’t notice.
‘You’re not crying, are you?’ Michael’s voice sounded hard and metallic. He stood up. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sophie. Grow up.’ He walked out.
Sophie sat weeping on the couch for several minutes before she rose to get a tissue from her handbag. Her phone flashed with a message.
I miss you already.
Sophie stared at the message for a moment, her mind refusing to interpret what the message meant or how she should respond. James’ message seemed unusually intimate when, for the past week, she had kept their relationship strictly professional. Aside from dinner with the company on opening night, the only time she had seen him was at work. He still flirted with her, but she hadn’t flirted back. It seemed pointless to invest so much time in something which had no future. She would never risk her marriage for something as trivial as desire.
She read the message one more time, then pressed DELETE.
The boardroom table occupied the entire length of the room. Outside a wall of glass, the grey sky dropped soft rain into the harbour, ruffling the surface of the water and smudging the outline of the yellow and green ferries that sailed past. Sophie sat at the head of the table and waited until the twelve men and women had taken their places, filled their glasses with water and opened their folders.
‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ she said. ‘Today’s scheduling meeting will cover the period from 12th-24th November. Are there any late changes before the 12th?’
George Davis, the light reflecting off his bald skull, cleared his throat. ‘The Governor is attending the opening night of Swan Lake,’ he said. ‘There are no additional requirements for anyone else in the room. I’ll be escorting her.’
‘Thanks, George. Anything else?’
‘It’s nice to have you back,’ said Bruce, the head of the lighting department. ‘We missed you.’
‘Alright,’ said Sophie, smiling briefly. ‘Let’s start with the Opera Theatre. Page three on your print-out. Monday 12th November: Three p.m. change-over. Five p.m. class. Six-thirty Swan Lake performance four. Standard show crew.’
For the next hour and a half Sophie read out all of the activities that would be happening in the five venues of the Opera House. The heads of department, account managers, food and beverage operators, front of house managers and operational staff adjusted their rosters to reflect what was scheduled. The meeting was booked for two hours but she liked to get through it as quickly as possible.
Beth Turner walked back with Sophie to the Stage Management office. Sophie sat behind her desk and Beth took the chair in front.
‘I’ve done the roster up until the 24th and I’ll send it out tomorrow,’ Beth said.
‘Thanks,’ said Sophie. ‘But don’t worry about sending it out. I’ll look at it today and check it before it goes out.’
Beth’s mouth set in a firm line. Sophie guessed she had upset her.
‘It’s not that I don’t trust you,’ said Sophie. ‘I just want to get up to speed with what’s going on.’
Beth nodded. Sophie thought she saw a flash of irritation cross Beth’s face but it dissolved quickly into a smile.
‘No worries,’ said Beth. ‘Makes sense.’
‘Anything else I should know about?’ asked Sophie.
Beth pulled a sheet of paper from a folder and laid it on the desk. ‘There’s this.’ She pointed at the page. ‘Jenna’s last show.’
Sophie looked down at the document in front of her. It was a show report from the Sydney Symphony performance on the previous Saturday night. In the comments section Sophie read:
The area underneath the Stage Management desk is filthy. It is obvious the cleaners haven’t been in for days, or if they have, they don’t know how to clean properly. The dust has irritated my sinuses making it difficult to breathe. This situation is a breach of Workplace Health and Safety. I am reporting it to the nurse.
‘I thought we’d gone over this,’ said Sophie. ‘Was I not clear about what’s appropriate in a show report?
‘Perfectly clear,’ said Beth. ‘Jenna’s not stupid. Maybe there’s something else going on?’
‘Have you heard from Dave? I bet he’s none too pleased to have his staff criticised in public.’
‘He wouldn’t have seen it until this morning,’ said Beth. ‘There’s probably something in your inbox.’
‘I have a meeting with Jenna this afternoon so I’ll find out what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. What else happened when I was away?’
‘Nothing much. A few school concerts, the Opera-Ballet change-over and an interesting dance season in the Playhouse. The only small bit of drama happened when one of the drag queens in the Studio show fell off his heels and broke his ankle. No one is sure if he was drunk or not.’
‘Worker’s Comp?’
‘Thankfully no. He did it on his day off at some party in Darlinghurst. They had to re-block the last show without him.’
‘So business as usual,’ said Sophie.
‘Business as usual,’ said Beth.
Sophie looked at the time on her computer. ‘Let’s go the Greenroom and buy lunch,’ she said. ‘I have six hundred emails to trawl through and I need some sustenance before I start.’
Beth looked surprised. ‘Really? You didn’t bring your lunch with you?’
‘Not today. I’m willing to take my life into my own hands and risk the salad bar. I need you there to steer me away from the hot chips.’
‘Don’t worry, the hot chips are shit.’
Sophie smiled. ‘Thank God.’
Sophie and the HR manager, Rebecca Gilbert, looked up as the door opened and Jenna Coppins walked in. Jenna wore red glasses and a dress that strained across her hips. Her hair was pulled back into a pony-tail which accentuated her round face.
‘I can’t talk much,’ said Jenna, in a voice that sounded laden with the flu. ‘I picked up an infection from the Concert Hall on the weekend.’
‘Thank you for coming,’ said Rebecca, as Jenna sat down. ‘I’m not sure it’s necessary for me to be here, but I’m happy to sit in if that’s what you want.’
‘I’m protecting my rights,’ said Jenna. ‘I want a witness.’
‘No problem,’ said Rebecca. ‘But I’m just an observer. This is between you and Sophie.’
‘Humph,’ said Jenna, and folded her arms across her ample breasts.
‘I wanted to talk to you about what you write in your show reports,’ said Sophie. ‘A couple of weeks ago you wrote that the children from Sandcroft Grammar School were juvenile delinquents and this weekend you suggested that the cleaning staff were incompetent. Correct?’
Jenna shrugged.
‘The show report isn’t the place to express your opinion,’ said Sophie. ‘It’s your job to stick to the facts.’
‘The Sandcroft kids smashed the mirror lights in two of the dressing rooms, and I’ve got a sinus infection because of the dust and dirt in the Concert Hall. That’s the facts,’ said Jenna.
‘But asserting that the children are juvenile delinquents isn’t. That’s a value judgement.’
‘I’ve been here eight years and no one’s ever complained about my work before. If you’ve got a problem with the way I do things, then it’s your issue not mine.’
Sophie felt the edges of her molars press together. ‘Jenna,’ she said. ‘The reason no one’s spoken to you about this before is because before the role of Head of Stage Management was created, everyone was too busy to pay much attention to what the Stage Managers were doing. I’m here to ensure we all work to the same standards — standards of professional courtesy.’
‘Are you saying I’m not a professional?’
‘I’m saying you need to limit your comments on the show report to detailing any problems that occurred and then demonstrating how you solved those problems or else requesting another department to provide assistance. After the Sandcroft concert all you should have said is “Facilities: Please replace the damaged mirror lights in Dressing Rooms 24 and 26”.’
‘I guess,’ said Jenna. She looked at something on the ceiling.
‘And what about the SM desk. What are the facts?’
‘There is dirt and dust under the desk which is in breach of Workplace Health and Safety.’
‘Still your opinion but let’s work with that,’ said Sophie. ‘I don’t think a dirty floor constitutes a Health and Safety breach, but if it did, you should have lodged a formal complaint with the OH&S committee and had them to sort it out. It doesn’t belong on a report that the CEO and the Executive reads. How about simply requesting an additional cleaning service? Things get dirty, they need to be cleaned. It’s not that complicated.’
‘It made me sick.’
‘I’m sorry about that. I can take you off your shifts until you feel better.’
‘No,’ said Jenna. ‘I’m fine. Are we finished?’
‘What are you going to do differently in future?’ asked Sophie.
‘I’m going to watch what I say.’
‘Jenna—’ said Sophie. She stopped when she felt Rebecca’s hand on her forearm.
‘Okay,’ said Rebecca, ‘It sounds like everyone is clear on how to move forward. Thanks again for coming in, Jenna.’
‘Alright,’ said Jenna. She left the room without saying anything else.
Sophie clenched her fists. ‘Fuck,’ she said.
‘Sophie,’ said Rebecca, ‘Don’t let her get to you. She’s just winding you up.’
‘She seems to be making it her mission in life.’
‘You can’t control everyone. You can offer guidance, but they won’t always take it.’
‘But she won’t follow a simple request. It drives me crazy.’
‘I find it helps to focus on the good things rather than the bad. You have a great team of girls. Think about the ones who are doing a good job rather than the one person who’s causing you grief.’
Sophie smiled weakly, gathered up her notebook and pen and walked out of the meeting room with Rebecca.
Outside Sophie’s office, Rebecca paused. ‘We started free yoga classes on Monday nights while you were away, you should come.’
‘I don’t have anything to wear.’
‘I’ve got a spare set of yoga pants you can borrow and your t-shirt’s fine. See you in the Northern Foyer at five.’
‘I can’t leave at five,’ said Sophie. ‘It’s the busiest time of the day.’
‘No one will miss you for an hour,’ said Rebecca. She smiled. ‘It’ll do you good.’
‘Okay,’ said Sophie. ‘I’ll give it a go.’
Sophie settled in back at her computer. Beth’s head was bent over a pile of papers.
‘Beth, go ahead and send out the roster tomorrow,’ said Sophie. ‘I don’t need to look at it, I know you’ve done a great job. And I forgot to say thanks before for looking after everything while I was away. You’re the best.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Beth, and smiled.
The yoga class took place in a part of the Concert Hall Northern Foyer they called the caves. Tucked in underneath the sloped arc of the sails, it was like being in an attic. The light was soft and warm and the carpet thick. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the clouds had parted revealing patches of blue sky. The sound of flute and bells spilled from a portable CD player. Yoga mats were laid out in two parallel rows. Four or five people who Sophie recognised but didn’t know their names sat on the mats performing stretches. An unfamiliar woman stood at the front of the room. She was slender and petite, with short brown hair. She reminded Sophie of a pixie.
‘I’m Anisha,’ said the woman at the front of the room. ‘Come in and grab a mat. We’ll get started in a minute.’
Soon every mat was full but the room remained hushed, like inside a cathedral.
‘Let’s start with child’s pose, Balasana.’
It didn’t take long for Sophie to realise that muscle strength and cardio fitness counted for nothing in yoga. Though the poses looked simple when Anisha did them, Sophie found it difficult to get her limbs into the right position. And staying still was the hardest part of all. Sophie kept thinking she was wasting her time. She wasn’t working hard enough to burn calories and every time she stopped to focus on her breath she thought of all the things she could be doing instead. She didn’t understand the point of it.
‘Let your thoughts go and concentrate on your body,’ said Anisha. ‘Feel the mat beneath your feet, the lengthening of your hip, your fingers pressing together, the warmth in your chest.’
Sophie found it strange to be thinking about her body, a body that always seem to want something other than what was good for it. Over the years she had mastered the art of ignoring the pain in her muscles, the growling in her stomach. She suspected her body had long ago run out of things to say.
She looked around at the people beside her. Men and women alike appeared to be able to bend their bodies into positions she didn’t think possible. Heads on knees, hands to feet, all without any apparent effort. None of them were in particularly good shape, but it didn’t seem to matter.
‘Keep pushing down into the earth with your feet, feel the energy ground you, stabilise you. Imagine the roots of a tree growing out through your feet into rich warm soil.’
After about twenty-five minutes, Sophie realised that striving to be better than anyone else was futile and that escaping early was not an option. When she was sure no one was paying her any attention she decided to take it easy for the rest of the class. She didn’t look at anyone else, she just listened to Anisha’s voice and followed her commands. She breathed, she felt the earth, and for a moment she thought she might have felt warmth in her chest. Earlier than Sophie expected, Anisha instructed everyone to lie down on their backs. Savasana. Corpse pose.