Full Dark House(52)
‘Do shows change much before opening night?’ asked Bryant, scooting a fork around the remains of the suspiciously unmeaty gravy on his plate.
‘Oh, some of them become unrecognizable, especially the musicals. Of course, I’m strictly FOH so I’m not privy to everything that goes on, but you hear it all from the front of house because stages are designed to project sound forward. Do you think Helena will be able to keep the show running?’
‘I don’t know,’ Bryant admitted. ‘Westminster Council will have to be given our crime reports because of the Palace’s status as a public building, but they’ve already got their hands full, so it’s pretty easy for me to stall them. Their final decision will be swayed by the Lord Chamberlain’s attitude. If he decides that it’s a threat to public morality, there’s nothing I or anyone else can do to keep it open. An appeal to Churchill might work, I suppose. I understand that when he was young he used to champion the ladies of the music hall.’
‘All this talk of the chorus girls appearing nude is sending the box office through the roof,’ said Elspeth. ‘We’ll soon have the Christmas season fully booked. If the Lord Chamberlain does shut us there’ll be nothing else to put in after it. We’ll go dark for the first time in thirty years. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘If the Lord Chamberlain objects, couldn’t a compromise be reached?’
‘Yes, if Miss Parole would just agree to cover up the girls’ . . . you know . . .’
‘What?’
‘Nipples,’ she mouthed at him, looking down at her chest. She dabbed a napkin at her forehead, embarrassed. ‘It’s so hot in here, Arthur. That scarf must be strangling you. We never overheat in the foyer, even in the middle of summer. So much marble.’
‘You’re all very loyal to the theatre,’ Bryant conceded. Just being outside the building made Elspeth uncomfortable. He wondered how she would cope if the directors closed the show down and fired the permanent staff. Theatre management seemed a separate breed from the acting companies, one of the oldest and least recognized London tribes, working long hours for low salaries, never in the limelight themselves, unable to imagine any other life apart from the stage. ‘Mr Whittaker’s like you. I’m surprised you aren’t . . .’
‘What?’
‘Well, together.’
‘Me and Geoffrey?’ It was good to see her smile. ‘God, no. The theatre would always be in the way. We’d never talk of anything else. Besides, he’s a terrible womanizer.’
‘Are there really no problems between Helena and members of the cast?’
‘None that I know of. The only row is with the stagehands, because of these accidents. I mean, we’re all assuming the rumours are true about Miss Capistrania suffering something similar. Everyone’s wondering who’ll be next, but they all get on with their work. It’s incredible how the press has managed to twist the whole thing around. Have you seen the article by Gilbert Riley in this morning’s edition of the Evening Standard? He’s suggesting we’re the victims of some ancient theatrical curse. And then there are those photographs.’ Elspeth was referring to the fact that someone had managed to take several shots of semi-naked chorus girls through the door of a rehearsal room several days earlier. ‘Where’s Mr May today? He seems ever so nice.’
She fancies him, thought Bryant immediately. Well, why not? He had the same effect on every woman he met. Presumably it was some kind of chemical reaction, scientifically quantifiable and easily explained. Some men had it, he decided, and others didn’t.
‘He’s finishing the interviews,’ said Bryant, pushing his plate back and picking up the bill. ‘I have to submit a report to my superior by tomorrow. The process would normally take longer, but the war is speeding everything up.’
‘The last fourteen months have passed so quickly,’ agreed Elspeth. ‘So many horrors, so many changes. I just celebrated my thirty-second birthday. Not a good age for a single woman.’ Her hand absently brushed her cheek. In the dusty light from the restaurant window she suddenly looked much younger, as if she had been kept all her life within the walls of the theatre, untouched by the ravages of the outside world. Bryant felt a sudden pang of desire for her. ‘It’s rather ironic still to be working in a shrine constructed for a man who made merciless fun of spinsters.’
‘Oh, Gilbert, you mean. Yes, he was a bit hard on the ladies. But Sullivan balanced him. He loved women too much. It must have been an interesting alliance.’