The Coat on the Last Peg

“That one looks as if it’s been here forever,” Kit says. A plum coat hangs on the last peg in the theatre’s costume room. Its elbows shine, and one brass button is larger than the rest. Safiya slips it on over her clothes. She and Kit are choosing costumes for a short play, and her character needs something ordinary. The coat feels just right. Then something crackles inside the lining.

Safiya reaches into the pocket, but it is empty. She feels along the inside seam until her fingers find a small opening. “There’s paper in here.” Kit offers to pull it out. “Carefully,” she says. The folded paper is thin and yellow at the edges. It is a drawing of a street, with an arrow pointing towards a door. Underneath, someone has written: Back before the last bell.

“A secret message,” Kit says. He is already looking towards the old staircase. Safiya turns the paper over. There is a date, but the last two figures have faded. “Or somebody’s shopping directions.” Still, she follows him to the landing. Through a window they can see the street behind the theatre. Most of the doors have changed, and the building in the drawing has three windows where there are now two.

Mrs Vale finds them comparing the drawing with the view. She has looked after the wardrobe for years, but she does not recognise the note. “Ask before you go exploring,” she says. “Some of those buildings are private homes.” She takes them to a cupboard of theatre photographs instead. Kit looks disappointed until Safiya opens an album and finds the same three windows painted on a stage backdrop.

The photograph shows a boy wearing the plum coat. A girl stands beside him holding a bicycle bell. Safiya points at the brass button. Even in the small photograph, it stands out. Mrs Vale reads the caption. “The Borrowed Bicycle. I was in that.” She laughs, then brings the picture closer. “Goodness. I’d forgotten that coat.” The street on the paper was never a real street at all.

Mrs Vale remembers the scene now. Her character rang the bell whenever the boy was late. The actor kept missing his entrance, so she drew him a reminder. “He put it somewhere safe,” she says. “Clearly too safe.” Kit glances at the old staircase. “So there isn’t a hidden room?” “There’s a cupboard full of broken umbrellas, if that helps.” Safiya laughs so hard she nearly drops the album.

They put the fragile note into a clear sleeve. Mrs Vale writes its date on the back, using the album to check the year. Safiya asks whether they can display it beside their costumes after the performance. “With the photograph,” Kit adds. “Otherwise everyone will go hunting for the door.” Mrs Vale agrees, but says the sleeve must stay in the cupboard until they have finished rehearsing.

That afternoon, Safiya tries her entrance in the coat. The large brass button catches on a chair, and she has to stop and free it. Kit rings an imaginary bicycle bell. “Late again!” “Wrong play,” she tells him. They try once more, moving the chair a little. From the back of the hall, Mrs Vale watches them. When Safiya turns, she catches the older woman smiling at the coat.

After the performance, people gather round the photograph and the little drawing. Kit explains their search, including the secret room he never found. Mrs Vale adds a name beneath the boy in the picture. Safiya hangs the coat on its peg, with the pocket empty and the seam neatly mended. Before she leaves, she gives the brass button a quick polish with her sleeve. Tomorrow, someone else will need it.