cb.booksofblood-第19章

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　　On　his　way　to　the　stage　he　ducked　into　the　Men's　Dressing　Room　to　adjust　his　clothing；　and　dowse　his　burning　cheeks　with　cold　water。　Sex　always　induced　a　giveaway　mottling　on　his　face　and　upper　chest。　Bending　to　splash　water　on　himself　Galloway　studied　his　features　critically　in　the　mirror　over　the　sink。　After　thirty…six　years　of　holding　the　signs　of　age　at　bay；　he　was　beginning　to　look　the　part。　He　was　no　more　the　juvenile　lead。　There　was　an　indisputable　puffiness　beneath　his　eyes；　which　was　nothing　to　do　with　sleeplessness　and　there　were　lines　too；　on　his　forehead；　and　round　his　mouth。　He　didn't　look　the　wunderkind　any　longer；　the　secrets　of　his　debauchery　were　written　all　over　his　face。　The　excess　of　sex；　booze　and　ambition；　the　frustration　of　aspiring　and　just　missing　the　main　chance　so　many　times。　What　would　he　look　like　now；　he　thought　bitterly；　if　he'd　been　content　to　be　some　unenterprising　nobody　working　in　a　minor　rep；　guaranteed　a　house　of　ten　aficionados　every　night；　and　devoted　to　Brecht？　Face　as　smooth　as　a　baby's　bottom　probably；　most　of　the　people　in　the　socially…mitted　theatre　had　that　look。　Vacant　and　content；　poor　cows。
　　〃Well；　you　pays　your　money　and　you　takes　your　choice；〃　he　told　himself。　He　took　one　last　look　at　the　haggard　cherub　in　the　mirror；　reflecting　that；　crow's　feet　or　not；　women　still　couldn't　resist　him；　and　went　out　to　face　the　trials　and　tribulations　of　Act　III。
　　On　stage　there　was　a　heated　debate　in　progress。　The　carpenter；　his　name　was　Jake；　had　built　two　hedges　for　Olivia's　garden。　They　still　had　to　be　covered　with　leaves；　but　they　looked　quite　impressive；　running　the　depth　of　the　stage　to　the　cyclorama；　where　the　rest　of　the　garden　would　be　painted。　None　of　this　symbolic　stuff。　A　garden　was　a　garden：　green　grass；　blue　sky。　That's　the　way　the　audience　liked　it　North　of　Birmingham；　and　Terry　had　some　sympathy　for　their　plain　tastes。
　　〃Terry；　love。〃　Eddie　Cunningham　had　him　by　the　hand　and　elbow；　escorting　him　into　the　fray。
　　〃What's　the　problem？〃
　　〃Terry；　love；　you　cannot　be　serious　about　these　fucking　（it　came　trippingly　off　the　tongue：　fucking）　hedges。　Tell　Uncle　Eddie　you're　not　serious　before　I　throw　a　fit。〃　Eddie　pointed　towards　the　offending　hedges。　〃I　mean　look　at　them。〃　As　he　spoke　a　thin　plume　of　spittle　fizzed　in　the　air。
　　〃What's　the　problem？〃　Terry　asked　again。
　　〃Problem？　Blocking；　love；　blocking。　Think　about　it。　We've　rehearsed　this　whole　scene　with　me　bobbing　up　and　down　like　a　March　hare。　Up　right；　down　left…but　it　doesn't　work　if　I　haven't　got　access　round　the　back。　And　look！　These　fucking　things　are　flush　with　the　backdrop。〃
　　〃Well　they　have　to　be；　for　the　illusion；　Eddie。〃
　　〃I　can't　get　round　though；　Terry。　You　must　see　my　point。〃　He　appealed　to　the　few　others　on　stage：　the　carpenters；　two　technicians；　three　actors。
　　〃I　mean…there's　just　not　enough　time。〃
　　〃Eddie；　we'll　re…block。〃
　　〃Oh。〃　That　took　the　wind　out　of　his　sails。
　　〃No？〃
　　〃Urn。〃
　　〃I　mean　it　seems　easiest；　doesn't　it？〃
　　〃Yes。。。　I　just　liked。。。　〃I　know。〃
　　〃Well。　Needs　must。　What　about　the　croquet？〃
　　〃We'll　cut　that　too。〃
　　〃All　that　business　with　the　croquet　mallets？　The　bawdy　stuff？〃
　　〃It'll　all　have　to　go。　I'm　sorry；　I　haven't　thought　this　through。　I　wasn't　thinking　straight。〃　Eddie　flounced。
　　〃That's　all　you　ever　do；　love；　think　straight。。。〃　Titters。　Terry　let　it　pass。　Eddie　had　a　genuine　point　of　criticism；　he　had　failed　to　consider　the　problems　of　the　hedge…design。
　　〃I'm　sorry　about　the　business；　but　there's　no　way　we　can　acmodate　it。〃
　　〃You　won't　be　cutting　anybody　else's　business；　I'm　sure；〃　said　Eddie。　He　threw　a　glance　over　Galloway's　shoulder　at　Diane；　then　headed　for　the　dressing…room。　Exit　enraged　actor；　stage　left。　Calloway　made　no　attempt　to　stop　him。　It　would　have　worsened　the　situation　considerably　to　spoil　his　departure。　He　just　breathed　out　a　quiet　〃oh　Jesus〃；　and　dragged　a　wide　hand　down　over　his　face。　That　was　the　fatal　flaw　of　this　profession：　actors。
　　〃Will　somebody　fetch　him　back？〃　he　said。
　　Silence。
　　〃Where's　Ryan？〃　The　Stage　Manager　showed　his　bespectacled　face　over　the　offending　hedge。
　　〃Sorry？〃
　　〃Ryan；　love…will　you　please　take　a　cup　of　coffee　to　Eddie　and　coax　him　back　into　the　bosom　of　the　family？〃　Ryan　pulled　a　face　that　said：　you　offended　him；　you　fetch　him。
　　But　Galloway　had　passed　this　particular　buck　before：　he　was　a　past　master　at　it。　He　just　stared　at　Ryan；　defying　him　to　contradict　his　request；　until　the　other　man　dropped　his　eyes　and　nodded　his　acquiescence。
　　〃Sure；〃　he　said　glumly。
　　〃Good　man。〃　Ryan　cast　him　an　accusatory　look；　and　disappeared　in　pursuit　of　Ed　Cunningham。
　　〃No　show　without　Belch；〃　said　Galloway；　trying　to　warm　up　the　atmosphere　a　little。　Someone　grunted：　and　the　small　half…circle　of　onlookers　began　to　disperse。　Show　over。
　　〃OK；　OK；〃　said　Galloway；　picking　up　the　pieces；　〃let's　get　to　work。　We'll　run　through　from　the　top　of　the　scene。　Diane；　are　you　ready？〃
　　〃Yes。〃
　　〃OK。　Shall　we　run　it？〃　He　turned　away　from　Olivia's　garden　and　the　waiting　actors　just　to　gather　his　thoughts。　Only　the　stage　working　lights　were　on；　the　auditorium　was　in　darkness。　It　yawned　at　him　insolently；　row　upon　row　of　empty　seats；　defying　him　to　entertain　them。　Ah；　the　loneliness　of　the　long…distance　director。　There　were　days　in　this　business　when　the　thought　of　life　as　an　accountant　seemed　a　consummation　devoutly　to　be　wished；　to　paraphrase　the　Prince　of　Denmark。
　　In　the　Gods　of　the　Elysium；　somebody　moved。　Galloway　looked　up　from　his　doubts　and　stared　through　the　swarthy　air。　Had　Eddie　taken　residence　on　the　very　back　row？　No；　surely　not。　For　one　thing；　he　hadn't　had　time　to　get　all　the　way　up　there。
　　〃Eddie？〃　Galloway　ventured；　capping　his　hand　over　his　eyes。　〃Is　that　you？〃　He　could　just　make　the　figure　out。　No；　not　a　figure；　figures。　Two　people；　edging　their　way　along　the　back　row；　making　for　the　exit。　Whoever　it　was；　it　certainly　wasn't　Eddie。
　　〃That　isn't　Eddie；　is　it？〃　said　Galloway；　turning　back　into　the　fake　garden。
　　〃No；〃　someone　replied。
　　It　was　Eddie　speaking。　He　was　back　on　stage；　leaning　on　one　of　the　hedges；　cigarette　clamped　between　his　lips。
　　〃Eddie。　。
　　〃It's　all　right；〃　said　the　actor　good…humouredly；　〃don't　grovel。　I　can't　bear　to　see　a　pretty　man　grovel。〃
　　〃We'll　see　if　we　can　slot　the　mallet…business　in　somewhere；〃　said　Calloway；　eager　to　be　conciliatory。
　　Eddie　shook　his　head；　and　flicked　ash　off　his　cigarette。
　　〃No　need。〃
　　〃Really…〃
　　〃It　didn't　work　too　well　anyhow。〃　The　Grand　Circle　door　creaked　a　little　as　it　closed　behind　the　visitors。　Galloway　didn't　bother　to　look　round。　They'd　gone；　whoever　they　were。
　　
　　〃There　was　somebody　in　the　house　this　afternoon。〃　Hammersmith　looked　up　from　the　sheets　of　figures　he　was　poring　over。
　　〃Oh？〃　his　eyebrows　were　eruptions　of　wire…thick　hair　that　seemed　ambitious　beyond　their　calling。　They　were　raised　high　above　Hammersmith's　tiny　eyes　in　patently　fake　surprise。　He　plucked　at　his　bottom　lip　with　nicotine　stained　fingers。
　　〃Any　idea　who　it　was？〃　He　plucked　on；　still　staring　up　at　the　younger　man；　undisguised　contempt　on　his　face。
　　〃Is　it　a　problem？〃
　　〃I　just　want　to　know　who　was　in　looking　at　the　rehearsal　that's　all。　I　think　I've　got　a　perfect　right　to　ask。〃
　　〃Perfect　right；〃　said　Hammersmith；　nodding　slightly　and　making　his　lips　into　a　pale　bow。
　　〃There　was　talk　of　somebody　ing　up　from　the　National；〃　said　Galloway。　〃My　agents　were　arranging　something。　I　just　don't　want　somebody　ing　in　without　me　knowing　about　it。　Especially　if　they're　important。〃　Hammersmith　was　already　studying　the　figures　again。　His　voice　was　tired。
　　〃Terry：　if　there's　someone　in　from　the　South　Bank　to　look　your　opus　over；　I　promise　you；　you'll　be　the　first　to　be　informed。　All　right？〃　The　inflexion　was　so　bloody　rude。　So　run…along…little…boy。　Galloway　itched　to　hit　him。
　　〃I　don't　want　people　watching　rehearsals　unless　I　authorize　it；　Hammersmith。　Hear　me？　And　I　want　to　know　who　was　in　today。〃　The　Manager　sighed　heavily。
　　〃Believe　me；　Terry；〃　he　said；　〃I　don't　know　myself。　I　suggest　you　ask　Tallulah…she　was　front　of　house　this　afternoon。　If　somebody　came　in；　presumably　she　saw　them。〃　He　sighed　again。
　　〃All　right　。。　。　Terry？〃　Calloway　left　it　at　that。　He　had　his　suspicions　about　Hammersmith。　The　man　couldn't　give　a　shit　about　theatre；　he　never　failed　to　make　that　absolutely　plain；　he　affected　an　exhausted　tone　whenever　anything　but　money　was　mentioned；　as　though　matters　of　aesthetics　were　beneath　his　notice。　And　he　had　a　word；　loudly　administered；　for　actors　and　directors　alike：　butterflies。　One　day　wonders。　In　Hammersmith's　world　only　money　was　forever；　and　the　Elysium　Theatre　stood　on　prime　land；　land　a　wise　man　could　turn　a　tidy　profit　on　if　he　played　his　cards　right。
　　Galloway　was　certain　he'd　sell　off　the　place　tomorrow　if　he　could　manoeuvre　it。　A　satellite　town　like　Redditch；　growing　as　Birmingham　grew；　didn't　need　theatres；　it　needed　offices；　hypermarkets；　warehouses：　it　needed；　to　quote　the　councillors；　growth　through　investment　in　new　industry。　It　also　needed　prime　sites　to　build　that　industry　upon。　No　mere　art　could　survive　such　pragmatism。
　　
　　Tallulah　was　not　in　the　box；　nor　in　the　foyer；　nor　in　the　Green　Room。
　　Irritated　both　by　Hammersmith's　incivility　and　Tallulah's　disappearance；　Galloway　went　back　into　the　auditorium　to　pick　up　his　jacket　and　go　to　get　drunk。　The　rehearsal　was　over　and　the　actors　long　gone。　The　bare　hedges　looked　somewhat　small　from　the　back　row　of　the　stalls。　Maybe　they　needed　an　extra　few　inches。　He　made　a　note　on　the　back　of　a　show　bill　he　found　in　his　pocket：　Hedges；　bigger？
　　A　footfall　made　him　look　up；　and　a　figure　had　appeared　on　stage。　A　smooth　entrance；　up…stage　centre；　where　the　hedges　converged。　Galloway　didn't　recognize　the　man。
　　〃Mr　Galloway？　Mr　Terence　Galloway？〃
　　〃Yes？〃　The　visitor　walked　down　stage　to　where；　in　an　earlier　age；　the　footlights　would　have　been；　and　stood　looking　out　into　the　auditorium。
　　〃My　apologies　for　interrupting　your　train　of　thought。〃
　　〃No　problem。〃
　　〃I　wanted　a　word。〃
　　〃With　me？〃
　　〃If　you　would。〃　Galloway　wandered　down　to　the　front　of　the　stalls；　appraising　the　stranger。
　　He　was　dressed　in　shades　of　grey　from　head　to　foot。　A　grey　worsted　suit；　grey　shoes；　a　grey　cravat。　Pisselegant；　was　Galloway's　first；　uncharitable　summation。　But　the　man　cut　an　impressive　figure　nevertheless。　His　face　beneath　the　shadow　of　his　brim　was　difficult　to　discern。
　　〃Allow　me　to　introduce　myself。〃　The　voice　was　persuasive；　cultured。　Ideal　for　advertisement　voice…overs：　soap　mercials；　maybe。　After　Hammersmith's　bad　manners；　the　voice　came　as　a　breath　of　good　breeding。
　　〃My　name　is　Lichfield。　Not　that　I　expect　that　means　much　to　a　man　of　your　tender　years。〃　Tender　years：　well；　well。　Maybe　there　was　still　something　of　the　wunderkind　in　his　face。
　　〃Are　you　a　critic？〃　Galloway　inquired。
　　The　laugh　that　emanated　from　beneath　the　immaculately…swept　brim　was　ripely　ironical。
　　〃In　the　name　of　Jesus；　no；〃　Lichfield　replied。
　　〃I'm　sorry；　then；　you　have　me　at　a　loss。〃
　　〃No　need　for　an　apology。〃
　　〃Were　you　in　the　house　this　afterno