In return for the horrendous price the audience had paid to attend the premiere performance, they were all invited to attend a "meet the cast" dinner and cocktail party in the school cafeteria. When I had first heard what Mary intended and where, I laughed. Who would attend a dry cocktail party? But Mary had surprised us all. Somehow she managed to persuade the powers-that-be to allow the serving of alcohol on school grounds. That really brought home to me how socially powerful Mary was becoming.
As the cast entered the cafeteria we were split up by Mary's Mafia and guided to various tables. Looking around I could see that there was a definite hierarchy. The more important the guests at a table, the more important the cast members they were allocated. Harvey and I were at the head table with Mary and her senior lieutenants. Carl and Staci were seated at the table beside us.
The dinner was magnificent. I didn't know the school caterers could prepare so many uptime delicacies. The pièce de résistance was the marvelous mountain of cream puffs with a spun sugar web covering them. There was enough for everyone to get a cream puff and whipped cream.
There was also the down-under sweet, the Pavlova, a meringue dessert smothered in whipped cream and preserved berries. Carl had talked about the dessert when the idea of this dinner first came up. He had a recipe he had picked up in Australia just before the Ring of Fire. And as the dessert was originally created to celebrate the tour of New Zealand and Australia by the celebrated Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova, he had suggested that serving it tonight would be a fitting celebration of the coming of modern ballet to down-time Germany.
After dinner the cast walked around meeting as many people as possible. Harvey and I were taking a moment to ourselves as we looked on at the guests and sipped our wine. I stifled a giggle as I looked at my wineglass. Harvey examined his glass and smiled back. We were both sipping wine out of peanut butter glasses. Something I had thought we left behind years ago. Apparently uptime peanut butter glasses, especially those with characters printed on them, were considered amongst the ultimate status symbols. So the guests had to be served from peanut butter classes. How Mary had managed to dig up sufficient to serve everyone I didn't want to know.
Speaking of the devil, there was Mary Simpson heading my way. I saluted her with my wineglass.
"A brilliant performance, Bitty. Please pass my compliments to the cast. Everyone I have spoken to has been most impressed." As she paused for breath Mary gave me a social kiss. Then she dropped her bombshell. "A couple of my guests asked about performances in Magdeburg. I said that you would be able to put on a season of Swan Lake in the summer."
My jaw dropped.
Mary, a little concerned, continued, "That won't be a problem, will it?"
I was astounded at the naiveté of her question. Putting on a performance in Magdeburg would be hard enough. Swan Lake! That was pushing impossible.
"Mary!" I wailed. "Magdeburg? Where would we perform? Surely there is no suitable theater?"
Mary didn't even bat an eyelid. She just waved her hands casually. "Didn't some ballet company put on a performance in Red Square in Moscow once?"
I had to nod. Yes, the Kirov Ballet had put on such a performance.
"If the Russians can do it I'm sure your people will have no trouble." Having established that my objections were of no importance, Mary went off on a tangent. "Wouldn't it be marvelous to hold the performance in Hans Richter Square? Think of it, the people of Magdeburg watching a performance by your company in the shadow of the monument to the Hero of Wismar."
I thought about it. The whole idea reeked of cheap theater. Also, I could see nothing but problems. The Kirov Ballet had at least limited themselves to selected scenes and used a bare stage. A production of Swan Lake, on the other hand, would be a logistical nightmare.
I could see that ideas were zipping through Mary's mind, some to be accepted, others rejected. It was a pity I couldn't listen in on the process and give an opinion before her flights of fancy committed my company to something we couldn't deliver.
"Maybe we could schedule it to coincide with the unveiling of the Hans Richter memorial? No. That wouldn't work. It would be better with a ballet featuring a suitably glorious hero." Mary shook her head in negation at some of her mumbled thoughts. It was fascinating listening to her. I leaned into Harvey. My husband had been silent throughout Mary Simpson's monologue. We exchanged mutually horrified looks.
"Damn. It's a pity I've already committed us to Swan Lake, Bitty. Well, it's too late to change that now." Mary chewed her lower lip in a discreetly ladylike manner. "Next time we really must get together beforehand."