The stage at Rookhallow Assembly Rooms was shallower than visiting performers expected. Its curtains concealed little spare space, and a door in the rear wall had to remain accessible throughout a production. The local dramatic society responded by developing scenery that could suggest a room without attempting to reproduce one completely.
Three painted screens formed the basis of its collection. One carried a window, another a fireplace and the third a section of panelling whose colour changed several times. Different arrangements produced a parlour, an inn or a rather well-appointed cottage. The audience recognised the individual pieces, but usually accepted the new address assigned to them.
Scenery travelled between neighbouring groups. A screen arrived with several possible door positions marked on its reverse; a painted garden wall returned with an additional climbing plant. Borrowing altered the objects gradually. Their accumulated details suggest that theatrical illusion depended less on perfect consistency than on selecting which parts to notice under the lights.
The society's most useful contribution was a set of narrow side panels made by cabinetmaker Joseph Wrenlow. They created an impression of depth while leaving room for performers to pass behind. Wrenlow painted the edges as carefully as the fronts, having watched an earlier production from a seat that revealed nearly everything it was meant to hide.
When the rooms were refurbished, the old screens were offered to anyone who could use them. Some became workshop partitions, while others remained in theatrical circulation. Their survival demonstrates a practical artistic economy: imagination supplied the destination, and a modest stock of painted timber made repeated journeys possible.