The Mirrror Shop

by Nicholas Bundock

  ‘I loved your final scream,’ she says. ‘It almost had me worried.’

  ‘I want out of this costume.’

  ‘And me out of my marriage. But I must wait and so must you. You have to take your bow with the others before you change.’

  Peter and Wendy’s final exit gives rise to a standing ovation. Even Lynton eases himself from his chair and claps with his hands above his head. There is wild cheering before the full cast of players emerge. Russ pulls Luke to his feet and he joins them, standing at one end of the line. The cheers and applause increase as they bow. Not lingering, they quickly leave the stage, responding to more cheers with a reappearance. Josh now goes to Alden who, with unconvincing modesty, is pulled to the front for further acclaim. The cast join in until he steps to one side and with an extravagant arm points to them, lastly making gestures towards the screen and lights. From the corner of his eye Luke sees Russ beaming ecstatically as if this, not patching mirrors, is his true destiny.

  In the gallery they remove their make-up and quickly change, thoughts only on the party. The girls have brought with them celebratory glad rags, but not the boys, apart from Russ: as soon as his beard and make up is removed he pulls on a Hawaiian shirt printed with hula dancers. As Luke places his doublet and hat in one of the costume boxes, Rhona whispers, ‘We must be discrete this evening. I’ll stay with Mathilde. Ignore me and dance with any of the girls. Apart from Lou of course – she’ll be otherwise occupied. Swim tomorrow?’

  ‘River or sea?’

  ‘River. I love the openness of the sea, but the seclusion of the river has its special magic. Six not too early, is it – after tonight’s party?’

  When Luke leaves the gallery he finds Matthew loading the sound and lighting equipment into a van. He is being helped by Felix. Russ is by the van door, supervising. The scenery has already disappeared and members of the school are stacking chairs. It seems to Luke that disproportionate energy has been expended on a single night’s performance. He looks around La Place des Pèlerins. The café and bar are still bustling, but the coaches and ice cream vendor have gone and Santa Marta is already slipping back to its quieter self. Alden has disappeared. As Luke is helping to remove duct tape and cables from the stone pavement, Agnes and Dan pass by him carrying the costume boxes which they load on the van. Dan places an arm around her as they walk up towards the school.

  A few minutes later Rhona appears from the gallery, walks up to Luke and running her fingers through his hair says, ‘Take your time. Best if we don’t arrive together. I’ll see you up there.’

  When all the equipment is loaded into the van, the boys go up to the balcony, lower the screen, return, roll it and carry it into the gallery. Matthew now drives to the hotel car park, Russ in the passenger seat. Luke, alone at the foot of the steps, looks up to the west wall of the old church and wonders at the speed of the disappearance of cast, scenery and audience.

  In no hurry to get to the party, he strolls to the far side of La Place des Pèlerins and looks over the maquis, dark and still but alive with the unremitting chatter of cicadas. Struggling to accept that he has been part of a play in this remote village, he turns round and gazes at the empty flight of steps. At that moment a figure appears on the balcony. At first Luke thinks it is Matthew or Russ retrieving a forgotten piece of equipment, but the figure is too tall to be either of them. It is Alden.

  Luke remains motionless and watches Alden look down at the steps and towards the area where the audience had sat. It occurs to him that Alden is reliving the applause at the end of the play, an impression confirmed when Alden raises his arms like a footballer who has scored a winning goal and lowers them slowly, gazing the length of La Place des Pèlerins in a way that reminds Luke of a monarch surveying his subjects from a palace window. When Alden has left the balcony Luke walks towards the music and rising voices of the party, but at the foot of the steps he is halted by sounds from the direction of the gallery. He walks up the steps and stations himself by the gallery door.

  It is Louise he hears first.

  ‘It was your plan, your idea,’ she shouts. ‘I never said I would live with you.’

  ‘But you agreed about the flat.’ Alden struggles to be restrained. ‘And you said it would be great if we . . .’

  ‘Where you buy a flat is up to you,’ she screams. ‘My work takes me all over the world. I’m not the settling sort.’

  ‘But I’m offering you a base.’

  ‘You’re offering me a tie. My base is where my company is next.’

  ‘I understand that.’

  ‘You don’t and you can’t. You’re not a dancer.’

  ‘Actors feel the same way.’

  ‘You’re not an actor either. I’m leaving first thing tomorrow. Don’t try to follow me.’

  ‘But Lou,’ Alden pleads.

  Luke hears footsteps and spreads himself against the adjacent wall. Holding his breath, he watches the door open and sees Lou run at great speed down the steps and towards the summer school. Alden follows, attempts to negotiate the steps two at a time, but stumbles near the bottom. Picking himself up, he tries to run, but is clearly in some discomfort. With the desperate hope that Louise will reappear with a change of heart, Luke watches Alden walk towards the party.

  Disconsolate, Luke closes the gallery door, his hand trembling on the iron handle. Rhona must be informed of this argument which seems nothing less than a final separation. It can only throw obstacles in their plans. But they will not be insuperable, he tells himself. Rhona and he will be resolute. As he walks up to the school he hears the sounds of ’50s jazz echo through Santa Marta. Nervous, he walks up the steps of the terrace where the music merges with a crescendo of excited voices. The smell of a barbecue pervades the night and overpowers even the scent of the maquis.

  On the candlelit terrace the cast and members of the summer school have been joined by many others. Some are seated on low walls at the sides of the terrace. Three or four couples are dancing. Others, Alden among them, stand in groups. A few occupy chairs near the door to Lynton’s house, including Lynton himself who is seated in a wicker chair and listening to a middle-aged woman Luke has not seen before but who reminds him of Freda Elman. She is vociferously sharing her views about painting, the gutturally-pronounced word ‘art’ booming above Henri Renaud’s jazz. Soon, from Lynton’s house Rhona appears with Mathilde and Cassie. Rhona, seeing him, raises an arm in recognition, lowers it quickly and finds a chair for Mathilde. Luke turns and moves to one end of the terrace where a long trestle table is heavy with bottles. He pours himself a glass of rosé. Before he has lifted it to his lips Cassie is at his side.

  ‘Do you like the music?’ she says. ‘Rhona told me to tell you she chose it specially for you. It’s from Mathilde’s collection.’

  ‘Tell her that was most thoughtful.’

  While Cassie pours three glasses of white wine, Luke says, ‘Would you also tell her she and I must talk. Urgently. There’s a matter . . .’

  ‘Of course. I understand,’ says Cassie, clearly a willing messenger not in need of explanations.

  Wondering how much Rhona has said to Cassie, Luke scans the terrace. On the far side Alden is laughing with Felix in a way Luke finds hard to square with the voice of pleading desperation in the gallery. Louise seems absent from the party. Luke looks again towards Rhona. He sees Cassie give her and Mathilde a glass of wine. For a few seconds he loses them among the moving heads of the terrace. When he next sees Rhona she is no longer talking with Mathilde. She catches his eye, raises a hand, points to the door and enters the house. Slowly, glass in hand, Luke moves in that direction, pausing halfway to talk with Josh. Another glance around the terrace shows him that Alden has his back to the house. He walks the last few steps more quickly and slips through the door.

  In the kitchen Rhona gives him a hug. ‘This is most mysterious,’ she says. ‘But as you know I adore mysteries.’

  ‘Not this one.’

  ‘What is it?’<
br />
  As Luke tells her of the overheard conversation he sees her face blanche. At one point she grips his arm, holding it until he has finished his account. When she releases it she drops to a seat at the table. He sits beside her.

  Rhona says, ‘You’re certain it was more than a lover’s quarrel?’

  ‘It sounded final. Lou ran away from him and she’s not at the party.’

  Rhona remains silent for some moments. Suddenly she seizes his hand. ‘This will make no difference to us,’ she says. ‘Instead of him initiating a separation or divorce, I shall do so. It would have been preferable if he had taken the first steps, but the outcome will be the same.’ Her white-faced fear gives way to a look of resolution. She stands. ‘Meanwhile we have a party to enjoy. But we must be extra-vigilant. We cannot risk annoying Alden – not tonight. For safety’s sake we mustn’t be seen to be close. I shall be the dutiful, long-suffering partner.’ She laughs. ‘This will be my play. We’ll talk more at the river tomorrow.’ She points to the door. ‘You go ahead. I’ll follow at a respectable interval.’

  On the other side of the door Luke finds Carrie. ‘Have you been keeping guard?’ he asks.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she says archly as Henri Renaud gives way to slower music. ‘This is more my thing. Will you dance with me, Luke?’ She drapes her arms around his neck.

  ‘What’s the song?’ Luke asks.

  ‘Yellow. Do you like it?’

  ‘Love it,’ says Luke, thinking of the dress Rhona wore on his first visit to Saffold Farm.

  Moving with the music, they drift to the centre of the terrace. Over Carrie’s shoulder Luke sees Louise standing at one end of the trestle table. Alden is not with her. Luke tenses.

  ‘Relax,’ says Carrie.

  Luke tries to obey, but Carrie’s long red hair swings from side to side obstructing his vision. Gently turning Carrie round, he sees that Louise is wearing the gypsy dress she wore at the dinner party. She is between two men he does not recognise. One offers her a cigarette. The other lights it for her. She holds the cigarette in her right hand and places her left hand arm across her body in a way that would warn off unwelcome advances.

  A group of other dancers momentarily restrict his vision. When she comes into view again he sees Alden approach her. He speaks to her – no doubt in an attempt at reconciliation. Alden gestures to the men that he would like a private word. They move away. Alden speaks again, but Louise turns her head to the left, looks up to the night sky and blows smoke over Alden’s shoulder. Had she spat in his face, Luke thinks, the gesture could not have been more dismissive. As if responding to her mood, the music stops.

  Luke sees Russ seated on the low wall of the terrace overlooking La Place des Pèlerins. Russ waves. Thérèse in a ’50s style dress is standing near him. Matthew, his all black clothes now replaced by white shirt and shorts, walks towards them carrying two bottles of champagne and glasses. Carrie and Luke join them.

  ‘I hope they put on some more music,’ says Russ. ‘I’m feeling light-footed.’

  ‘As long as it’s not the mermaids’ song,’ says Matthew, easing out a cork.

  Alden appears at Thérèse’s side as the blast of Blue Suede Shoes fills the terrace. He grabs her right arm. ‘Let’s show them how to do it.’

  Thérèse freezes. Luke sees the white knuckles of Alden’s hand on Thérèse’s forearm. He is reminded of the bruises on Rhona’s arm and is tempted to intervene. But as he looks up at Alden’s emotionless eyes, he sees Russ’s hand tap Alden on the shoulder.

  ‘She promised the first jive to me,’ says Russ, taking Thérèse’s left arm.

  Alden opens his mouth, but before a word emerges, Russ and Thérèse are dancing. Luke is astounded at Russ’s energy and footwork, unrestrained by the heat. Already perspiring, Russ throws Luke a conspiratorial glance.

  ‘I shall have to keep an eye on you mirror men,’ says Alden coldly, struggling to regain his composure.

  ‘If you want a girl to dance with you, it’s best not to break her arm,’ says Carrie.

  Alden looks towards Thérèse and Russ, both dancing like professionals. ‘All her limbs look in fine fettle to me.’

  Luke notices Rhona approaching. She winks at him.

  Carrie scowls at Alden. ‘You’re not without issues, Alden.’

  ‘That patronising litotes is beneath you.’

  ‘Is the word man getting technical?’ asks Rhona. She takes Alden’s hand. ‘Dance, darling?’ she says.

  Luke hears an unmistakeable irony in her voice.

  ‘Of course,’ says Alden with forced enthusiasm and leads her to the centre of the terrace.

  ‘Champagne?’ says Matthew, handing glasses to Luke and Carrie.

  They drink and watch Rhona and Alden dance – she with perfect timing and neat steps, he never more than perfunctory, shooting glances around the terrace, but not noticing Louise walk up to the others. Matthew hands her a glass of champagne.

  ‘Shall we risk a dance?’ she says mischievously to Luke.

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll sit this one out.’

  Louise sips her wine and sighs. ‘That’s a pity. It would be fun to see Alden rip his guts out as he watches the girl who’s just dumped him in the arms of his wife’s lover.’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘To me, yes, but I’m not a hundred per cent certain if Alden knows about the two of you.’ She gives him a grim smile. ‘I’m sorry for both your sakes that I couldn’t stay with him longer, but I couldn’t spend another minute with the beast. I don’t know how I fell for all the sweet-talking and little poems. And he was illiterate in bed. Oafish. An animal. He should have played the crocodile.’ She finishes her glass. ‘I’m going to disappear now and leave first thing tomorrow.’

  Louise kisses Matthew and Cassie.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Cassie asks.

  ‘I’m off to Holland. I’ll email you.’ Louise kisses Luke. ‘Good luck – to both of you.’

  ‘You’re always welcome to visit Rhona and me in Norfolk.’

  ‘I might – and we could form a Victims of Alden Society.’ Louise slips away in the sea of heads and limbs.

  As Elvis fades into the quieter tones of Tracey Chapman, Rhona parts from Alden and walks towards Mathilde. He doesn’t follow. Russ and Thérèse return to the wall. Alden trails behind them, his face regaining some bonhomie.

  Alden places one arm on Matthew’s shoulder, the other on Luke’s. ‘I don’t know about you two, but if the barbecue is as good as it was last year . . .’ He guides them through a tangle of jivers towards the smell of sizzling meat. Luke sees Russ, Carrie and Josh are following at a distance, but Thérèse has disappeared.

  Alden takes a pair of tongs, fills a roll with steak and turns to Luke. ‘Steak for you, mate?’ he asks.

  ‘Thanks,’ says Luke. ‘You’re doing us proud.’

  ‘Mathilde does the organising.’ Alden places a steak in a roll and hands it to Matthew. ‘One of these years we’ll take a play to Propriano. You really must work on your contacts. I can envisage an exhibition of Lynton’s paintings in the foyer and our play in the theatre. We must do it before he breathes his last.’ He turns to get himself a steak.

  Behind Alden’s back Matthew frowns in despair, looks at Luke and lifts his right palm, as if about to push Alden onto the hot grid.

  Luke again looks over to the dancers. The music has now changed to a slower number. He notices Agnes and Dan, arms around each other, but no sign of Rhona.

  When Alden turns round, Matthew asks, ‘Will the school continue after Lynton’s lifetime?’

  ‘He wants it to. He plans to form a trust to secure its future. I’ve offered to be a trustee. It would be a travesty if everything Lynton’s worked for goes for nothing – if all this closed and became some hideous holiday complex. Let’s find some beer.’

  ‘I think I’ll stick with wine,’ says Matthew.

  Alden heads for the drinks table, while the others resume t
heir seats on the low wall, eating steak rolls and enjoying Matthew’s private supply of champagne. Luke watches Alden find himself a beer, and is relieved to see that he does not rejoin them, but heads for Lynton. The song Fast Car begins, but only a few couples are dancing, among them Agnes and Dan lost in their own world. Rhona is still with Mathilde, ignoring the conversation between Alden and Lynton.

  A minute later the atmosphere changes when Alden walks over to the music system and cuts the volume. He strides to the centre of the terrace.

  ‘Shame on you,’ shouts Felix.

  Alden claps his hands to call for silence. ‘Guys,’ he begins, ‘I’m not going to say much, but I would like to thank all of you for tonight’s performance. It would be invidious to mention individuals – it was a team effort but . . .’

  ‘You’ll do so all the same,’ shouts Cassie.

  Josh turns to Luke, ‘He always gives one of these speeches. You’d think it was he, not Lynton and Mathilde, who was entertaining us.’

  Luke looks towards Rhona. She is sitting next to Mathilde. Her legs are stretched out in front of her. The posture reminds him of his visits to Saffold Farm – he is seated beside her as they look at anemones, a mirror, a butterfly. Somewhere far away a voice is reciting a register of names.

  ‘. . . and the hotel, restaurant and all in Santa Marta for their cooperation and . . . ’

  ‘Mention the costume department,’ calls out Cassie.

  ‘If you’ll let me continue . . .’

  ‘And don’t forget the sound and lighting,’ shouts Josh.

  Alden holds up his right hand, asking for silence.

  ‘And three cheers for Lynton and Mathilde for all of this,’ shouts Felix. ‘Hip. Hip.’