The knickerless girl disappeared into the green room. It wasn’t the green room that the cast and orchestra were using, but the green room for a different auditorium. That night it was being used by the students working behind the bar.
So I forgot about the knickerless girl and went back to the conversation about how much of the wanker the director was.
But a few minutes later the girl ran out of the green room and sprinted up the stairs as if she was later than the white rabbit. She’d got changed in those few minutes, into a little mini skirt with leggings underneath. Her prim maiden aunt, if she had one, wouldn’t have been remotely shocked by the view she provided.
But I was shocked. Usually I can work out what is likely to have been happening, when people do unusual things. Even if I’m wrong, the story I work out makes some kind of sense. But I couldn’t come up with any story about the girl’s two stair dashes, one knickerless and one modest, that made any sense at all.
Update on snakes: I went back this morning. The snake was out, probably hunting. I picked up the spade, and – very carefully – kept on digging up the old compost heap. When it comes back from hunting, it’ll have to find somewhere else to hide. I’ve warned the neighbours that it’s around, and possibly looking for a new home.