Bryant watched Elspeth’s wool-clad bottom as she walked ahead and wondered what it was that attracted him to older women. He speculated on the idea of asking her out. ‘Is there any way of turning more lights on?’ he asked.
‘This is as bright as it gets, I’m afraid. Parts of the theatre are always in darkness. It gets worse beneath the stage and up near the roof.’
May peered up into the gloom, but could discern little more than the vague outlines of four boarded upper windows. The interior had once been green and gold, with red draped curtains, but had subsequently been painted a depressing chocolate brown because a job lot of railway paint had become available at low cost. The sepia walls were rubbed through to the original gilt where members of the audience had paused to touch the plaster cherubs in the friezes, as though they had the talismanic power of saints.
‘Theatres are much more artificial than most people realize,’ said Elspeth, leading them down a passage beside the stalls. ‘Much of the auditorium decoration is built from painted papier mâché. The marble panels you see around the proscenium arch are false. There are no pillars blocking views because the whole structure is made from steel cantilevers, like Tower Bridge. The bricks are mere cladding. Along this side used to be the entrances to the cheaper seats. There were several kiosks selling drinks and cigars, and here is the royal entrance, nine steps up to the royal box, which is partitioned and has its own retiring room, the idea being to keep the classes quite separate. There are other boxes, ten in all. The sightlines are poor, but of course they’re for being seen in, not for seeing from. The company office is to the right of the stage door, as is dressing room two. All the dressing rooms are on this side, along with the front-of-house changing room and a number of quick-change areas, but it would take a week to discover all the hidden spaces.’
‘You’d have to find a way of gaining access to the building before you could hide yourself,’ Bryant pointed out.
‘Quite,’ agreed Elspeth, opening the door that led to the lift where Capistrania had died. ‘We’ll take the stairs if it’s all the same to you. The entresol floor has three dressing rooms, a smoking lounge and salon, and the booth for the projectors.’
‘Projectors?’
‘The music hall would show a short silent film as part of the variety bill,’ Elspeth explained. ‘In nineteen twenty-two they premiered The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse with a live orchestra and a staff of thirty making the sound effects.’ She led them higher. ‘Next is the dress circle, more dressing rooms, then the upper circle, also the wig room, and finally the balcony, formerly the amphitheatre. The casting offices are right at the top, along with the conference room, the archive rooms, storerooms, the fly gallery and the loading gallery, and a ladder leading up to the grid that I’ve never seen anyone use.’
‘I had no idea the place was so enormous,’ said May.
‘Five floors no member of the public ever sees.’ Elspeth pulled back a curtain leading through to the balcony. ‘Be careful here, it’s so steep that some people become sick. Please use the handrails.’
Bryant took one look down and put his hand over his eyes. ‘I can’t,’ he admitted. ‘How could anybody sit up here?’ Some fourteen rows of seats were arranged in plunging descent to a low parapet over the auditorium. ‘I don’t think we need to see this, do you, John?’
‘You’ve seen the public and business side of the theatre. Now I’ll show you the mechanical areas. We’ll have to go single file.’ She led the way into a musty narrow corridor filled with boxes and wiring, and pointed through an archway. ‘I can’t get you across without returning to the pass door, but you can see from here. There are three gantry levels, a carpenter’s bridge, five stage bridges, two hanging bridges. The slopes and bridges raise scenery, and there’s a flying counterweight system that’s hardly ever used. At the top is a drum and shaft mechanism capable of lifting half a dozen backcloths at a time. There are a further three floors under the ground,’ explained Elspeth. ‘I hope neither of you has a problem with confined spaces.’
If Bryant had discovered that he suffered from vertigo, May found the backstage areas claustrophobic. It was impossible to imagine what these areas were like when they were filled with staff and actors. They were now inside an Alice in Wonderland arrangement of wooden columns and twisting corridors, their tracks crossing over each other like ghost-train tunnels. There was nowhere to move except slowly forward. The lights, hanging from bare wires and wedged into corners, only disorientated May even more. He felt beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.