The Poisonous Grapevine

Dear Sonia,

I do hope you don’t mind me emailing after what’s gone on between us, but I really felt I should get in touch, firstly, to check you are okay after everything and also to try to explain.

It’s probably easiest if I go back to the beginning. Do you remember telling me about the gossip that was going around about you and James, and his little indiscretion? (I do hope that’s all over with now and he’s realised that youth and beauty aren’t everything).

We were shopping together in Tesco, and you told me you were pretty sure it was someone from the amateur dramatics society who had spread the gossip. You said you got a little tipsy one evening while you and some of the girls from the production of My Fair Lady were in the pub after rehearsals. I’m not sure why I wasn’t there — I’m guessing I must have been busy with friends.

Anyway, while you were hideously inebriated, you confided in several of the cast about James’s little extra-marital adventure. I know you are aware of all this – you weren’t so drunk you didn’t remember — but reiterating it helps me get my head around what happened next.

You were very upset that one of the am dram circle had betrayed your confidence. I think you were alerted to their indiscretion when your next-door neighbour, who isn’t a member of the society, and definitely wasn’t there the evening you drunkenly blurted out intimate details about your marriage, brought up the subject. Then there was Mrs Bunton from the newsagents, asking if James and his much younger lover were finished now. What a liberty that woman has. But I do think she may be a little socially awkward.

I hated to see you so unhappy, Sonia, I really did. I think all the upset was even affecting your performance as Eliza Doolittle during rehearsals. I mean, it’s not uncommon for you to be a bit pitchy, but when you sang I Could Have Danced All Night a couple of weeks ago, the neighbourhood dogs were rioting.

So, I hatched a little plan to try to unearth the gossip. It seemed such a great idea at the time, but in retrospect, I can see its limitations.

I told each of the cast members who were with you that intoxicated evening a different piece of false gossip about you. My thinking was that whatever false gossip made it back to you, would expose the culprit. What I didn’t count on was that every member of the cast seems to bitterly resent you. It’s just jealousy, of course, Darling, you made a wonderful Eliza, despite the flat notes and the unintentionally humorous Cockney accent.

As you know, every piece of gossip I fabricated was liberally shared around town. I do apologise for just how imaginative some of those falsehoods were, Darling. I wouldn’t include the devil worshipping or the dogging if I had the chance to go back. I think the lesbian affair with Mrs Bunton gained you some kudos, though, Sonia, I really do. Her husband certainly seems to be keeping a close eye on her now. I’ve not seen her behind the newsagent's counter for days.

I just wanted to offer you a wholehearted apology, Sonia. I never dreamt that my plan would lead to your expulsion from the am dram society — but given that we do rehearse in the church hall, the devil worshipping and your, obviously fictitious, one-night-stand with the vicar, did make your staying on impossible.

I have tried desperately to clear your name, admitting my role in the whole mess, but no-one seems to listen. I think everyone is just too busy getting ready for opening night. I must admit to being a little nervous about that. I’ve never played the lead in a musical before, but Sally, our esteemed director, assures me I was born to play Eliza.

So sorry, once again, my darling Sonia. I hope to bump into you in the Tesco aisles soon.

Abigail x