‘That’s all right Robbie,’ Mark said, his own voice sounding somewhat relieved. ‘Now that we know what caused the bang I’m sure we’ll all get used to it.’
Robbie touched his cap and left the group who stood open-mouthed gazing at each other.
‘Right!’ said Walter clapping his hands several times staccato fashion. ‘Can we start with Grizelda coming through the French windows? She finds Cindy on her knees polishing the fireplace surround. That’s if you’re ready to start Marlene! As Cindy, you’re kneeling at the fireplace and you don’t have to say anything. I’m sure you can manage that.’
Mark now stepped in. ‘This is the opening scene. Grizelda, take your place outside the French windows and the Brigadier…! Where the hell are you Grant? As the Brigadier you’re also outside those windows ready to make your first entrance. So we should have Grizelda and the Brigadier over there by the open windows but hidden from view and Cindy at the fireplace on her knees. Cindy stops polishing as if to wipe the sweat from her brow. I expect you all to be word perfect. Places everyone!’
The two playwrights went down the steps to watch from the front row of the auditorium. When seated Walter clapped his hands like a gunshot and, as if playing the big shot movie director, shouted ‘Action!’
Mark shook his head at the ludicrous behaviour of his writing partner before focussing on the French windows to witness the entry of Grizelda at the opening of his three-act play.
‘What on earth are you doing? Have you not finished yet? It’ll soon be time for lunch and my boys will be starving when they come in from the tennis court. You’d better get a move on.’
The nodding head signified Mark’s approval of those opening word perfect lines by Grizelda as he watched Cindy wipe a tear from her cheek.
‘Leave what you’re doing girl and get back to the kitchen and be quick about it.’
‘Word perfect I think,’ whispered Mark, giving Walter a wink as Cindy got up and left to go out through the kitchen door.
Both playwrights concentrated their attention on the French windows to watch the Brigadier make his first entrance.
‘I’ve just heard them,’ the Brigadier said, making a stumbling entry and looking scared out of his wits.
‘Bloody hell!’ yelled Walter at the top of his voice and getting to his feet at the same time. ‘It’s the first line of your part in this play. For God’s sake you’re supposed to say where is my Cindy? Your first bloody line and you need a prompt!’
‘What did you say and why did you say it?’ asked Mark, trying very hard to keep his patience and control his temper.
‘I’ve just heard them,’ the Brigadier mumbled. ‘I think that’s what I said. I can’t be sure… I really can’t be sure of anything. My mind went completely blank.’
‘At least what you said was said in the character of the part,’ declared Mark. ‘But where did you get that opening line? What could you possibly hear that made you say what you did?’
‘I heard the voices! The voices the stage doorman was talking about earlier. Voices of crying and laughter. It was scary and unnerving. I suddenly had no memory of my opening lines.’
‘Sit down on the couch Grant and pull yourself together. We only have a few days to complete our rehearsals and at this rate the Guild of Players will throw us out without us ever achieving anything.’ Mark was livid but tried not to show it as he spoke.
‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ said Walter. ‘Then you must come through those windows and deliver your opening lines. They’ve got to be exactly as they are in the script. If they’re not perfect you’ll certainly hear voices again. But this time the voice you’ll hear will be mine and it will not be crying or laughing. I can assure you of that.’
‘Let’s get this one perfect then we can go over the first entrance of the twin step-sons. If that goes well it will get us off to a good start,’ Mark said. ‘Hardly a flying start though,’ he countered, pursing his lips and shaking his head. ‘But we must be grateful for small mercies.’
After glancing at his watch several times Walter approached Grant who was still sitting on the couch. ‘Are you ready to start again?’ he asked, howking the actor to his feet.
‘I think so.’ Grant held back for a moment as if he was struggling to be conclusive. ‘I’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘As long as I don’t hear those voices again.’
‘Before we begin again,’ said Mark, ‘I think we should all refer to you by your stage names rather than your real names to avoid any confusion.’
‘If that’s settled can we now get this show on the road? That is if the Brigadier doesn’t hear those voices again.’
Chapter 11
THE LAST STRAW
Fortunately, second time around, the Brigadier did not repeat his error and his entry went smoothly. He delivered his lines word perfect and that brought on a ‘Thank God!’ statement from Walter while he removed his spectacles to give them a clean. ‘So far, so good,’ he added and smartly put his glasses back on.
After the scene with Cyril and Dicky which Mark and Walter were relieved to find greatly improved – not perfect, but Cyril’s dying was now more convincing, the two playwrights had a minor discussion about how the scene with Grizelda and Cindy should go.
‘Grizelda,’ Walter said as he gave her a flicker of a smile. ‘When you tell Cindy that you want a cup of strong tea you must show your aggressive nature. And when the tea is brought to you by Cindy, immediately you take a sip I want you to show a slight but recognisable sign that the tea tastes rather bitter.’
‘And Cindy,’ Mark added, ‘remember to express repressed fear of your possible discovery putting poison into the tea.’
‘But,’ said Walter, ‘the relief when you feel you’ve got away with it must also be evident.’
The two playwrights glared at each other. Cindy raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
The rehearsal of that short but important section of the scene was gone over several times and each time Grizelda took a sip of tea Walter paid close attention, sighting down his spectacles as if he were sighting along a rifle barrel.
‘Good,’ Walter said when he was satisfied with the performance. The anxiety on his face disappearing like snow on a hot tin roof.
‘Very good indeed,’ said Mark. ‘Grizelda, you were giving a wonderful tenuous hint that something wasn’t quite right about the tea and Cindy, you gave a distinct understanding that you had started to poison the stepmother by adding weed killer to each cup and, as the play develops, the poison is going to be added to each cup of tea or coffee which gradually gets stronger until the poison kills Grizelda soon after the fatal shooting of Cyril.’
While the small cast continued with rehearsals Giles took Laura to the stairs leading to the balcony where he could watch and hear the actors and, at the same time, get a good idea of how his illusions would work. He carried his copy of the play everywhere he went in the Theatre Royal and as he was making notes Laura came over and sat down beside him.
‘I suddenly feel very cold, Giles,’ she said shivering. ‘I know it’s probably the draught in this place, particularly on those stairs, but as well as the coldness it brings on a terrible feeling of unease.’
Putting his arm around her, Giles gave Laura an encouraging smile and a nod of reassurance. ‘Quite an atmosphere, isn’t it?’ He bent his head and kissed her. ‘Freddie would love a visit here,’ he said. ‘Don’t you think we should give him an invite if only to let him soak up the atmosphere of this grand old theatre?’
Laura snuggled close to him. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘This place would be God’s gift from heaven to Freddie.’
‘I’ll give him a call when we get back home tonight,’ said Giles, giving Laura a hug. ‘If he hasn’t made any real plans to go racing I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance to sample the spooky atmosphere of this place.’
‘Giles! Where are you?’ It was Mark shouting from the front row of the auditorium. ‘If you can hear me will you pl
ease come to the stage? I want to rehearse some of your illusions.’
‘I’ll be there in a few seconds,’ Giles yelled as he stood up to make his presence visible.
Taking Laura by the hand he left the draughty balcony and went downstairs to the auditorium. His thoughts were now deeply involved in the illusions he was about to see performed. He knew that rehearsals could often become rather tedious with actors going over their lines and conforming to the stage directions so many times that boredom could set in but with a variety of dramatic stage illusions being blended into a play he was confident that tedium and boredom would be averted.
For more than an hour as late afternoon merged into evening, the magical illusions did indeed prove riveting. So much so that the cast and playwrights acquired renewed energy.
When Giles and Laura left the Theatre Royal to go home for the night they left everyone concerned with the play in a reasonably good state of mind. They all seemed happy to get on with things without the nervousness that had previously affected them due to the spooky atmosphere in the theatre.
Giles wasted no time in giving Freddie a call at his Evesham home while Laura poured a couple of gin and tonics. Freddie was intrigued at the chance of meeting his close friends at a theatre with such a vivid past and he had no hesitation in cancelling his visit to a small race meeting. He indicated that he’d head to Dumfries after breakfast and should be at the theatre by early afternoon.
Back at the Theatre Royal on the following morning Giles was interested to learn that the cast had spent the night in two dressing rooms. It had been cold but thankfully there had been no interference by the spirits.
The twin playing Cyril had been given some patient and helpful tuition by Joyce in the art of dying on stage and both playwrights were happy about how things were working out. They were going over several scenes that required special attention and Giles and Laura were in time to see the umpteenth version of the scene when Cindy was to produce the pistol and shoot Cyril. It was a definite improvement thought Giles though the collapse by the step-son was still not quite as convincing as it should be. On the other hand Dicky’s performance on examining the body of his brother was masterful. The torment on his face when he declared the body dead was worthy of an award. Unfortunately it was so good it made the improvement by his twin brother insignificant. The sorrowful display of utter despair as Dicky held his brother’s head was charged with so much emotion it had all those watching applauding with appreciation for a fellow actor.
Walter could not contain his enthusiasm and barked out a, ‘Well done young man! Let’s call this off with the scene calling 999 to alert the ambulance and police as the curtain falls.’
The morning ended with Giles watching the Stab in the Dark illusion and The Artist’s Dream which could not have gone better. He was impressed by the plunging of the knife into Cyril’s bare arm and the sight of blood gave the illusion a theatrical and dramatic effect. Giles was knocked out by the stabbing as he watched it from the balcony and could imagine the startling effect it would have on an audience wherever they sat.
He was so engrossed with the illusions on stage that he was surprised when Robbie from the stage-door came to tell him that there was a visitor downstairs. A Mr Oldsworth was waiting to introduce himself.
‘Aah, Freddie,’ said Giles. ‘I knew he’d turn up. As a member of the Ghost Club this old theatre is right up his street.’
‘The Ghost Club, eh?’ the stage doorman said. ‘Well I never!’
‘Yes! We’re both long-standing members of that organisation and I know he’ll have a field day here. Please send him up.’
‘You can bet your bottom dollar on that,’ said Robbie, his face bursting with a grin. ‘At least the loud knocking on the stage door was done by the living this time instead of the spooky noises we get when there’s no one there.’
The stage doorman left to go downstairs and Giles followed him to wait for his close friend by the stage itself.
When Freddie appeared he was looking slightly perturbed.
‘Great to see you, Freddie,’ Giles said. ‘You seem to be a little out of breath though. Have you been rushing up those stairs?’
‘Not really,’ Freddie said. ‘After your description of this place when you phoned me last night I wanted to soak up the atmosphere but when the stage doorman said I could go up…’ Freddie hesitated.
‘And?’
‘I was just setting off up those stairs when there was a hand on my shoulder. I thought it was the doorman wanting to say something so I turned.’
‘And?’
‘There was no one there! I was alone, Giles. I have never felt that sensation before. Quite disquieting in the first few minutes of my visit. Most unlike me I can assure you.’ Freddie’s eyes looked all around the stage and outwards to the empty balcony before facing Giles again. ‘This place already has me fascinated and I’m pleased as Punch you asked me to come.’
Laying a hand on Freddie’s shoulder Giles chuckled. ‘Don’t jump Freddie, it’s my hand. I’m tickled pink you came. Can you stay the night at Maskelyne Hall? A day or two in this marvellous theatre will no doubt have you experiencing some weird and eerie goings on if I’m not mistaken.’
‘That’s an offer I can’t refuse, Giles. You should know that. I’ll call home when we get back to Lockerbie.’
‘Good man,’ said a delighted Giles. ‘There’s so much to be aware of here and members of the Ghost Club would have a field day by visiting such a wonderful place as this in Dumfries.’
‘Could that be possible do you think?’
‘I could certainly sound the Guild out but I’m sure they’d agree!’
Freddie glanced around to see exactly who was within earshot. ‘Does the guy who wrote the play know something of the history of this place? Is he totally aware of the fact that this old building may be a haven for unexplainable occurrences that could give him another attack of the…?’
‘I believe he’s already had the heebie-jeebies and that gave him a bit of a setback. It wouldn’t take much to bring home to Mark that this bête noire of his is once more rearing its ugly head in this sinister atmosphere, and I certainly don’t want anything to happen that could give him a serious heart attack,’ Giles said, the marked concern in his voice clearly obvious.
‘I get the impression that a disembodied hand on Mark’s shoulder would be the end,’ declared Freddie. ‘He could die of sheer fright and that would be the last straw.’
Chapter 12
MOSTLY GHOSTLY
A clap of the hands by Walter had members of the cast gathering together on stage to restart rehearsals. Throwing out his chest the bumptious little man waited for everyone’s attention. ‘Mark and I want to go over a large chunk of our play starting with Act 1 Scene 1,’ he said, ‘and we’ll continue as far as we can get. It’s important that you all know your lines but if you go wrong we’ll give you a prompt and try to carry on without a break.’
‘Make sure you are in the correct place on stage,’ Mark quipped, with a wry smile on his face. ‘I don’t want any upstaging by you lot. I’ve enough on my plate without worrying about actors trying to hog the limelight. Both Walter and I will be in the best seats of the house,’ he added, giving his co-playwright a wink and a nod, ‘and we’ll be able to see whether your moves conform to the stage directions.’
‘Places everyone,’ Walter instructed his cast. ‘If you go badly wrong at any stage we’ll stop and try again until we get it right. Otherwise we’ll make the best of it and carry on.’
With things about to happen Giles, Laura and Freddie went down the steps to the auditorium to watch the play evolve.
Barely two minutes into the play had Walter jumping up moving his hands impatiently. ‘Wake up! Let’s start again as if it was your first night. Hearts and souls into the performance immediately the curtain goes up.’
The pace was instantly better second time around and the play flowed along with zest until the unexpected hap
pened.
Bang! It was so loud that everyone on stage seemed to jump out of their skins and then froze into motionless zombies.
It was Mark who, uncharacteristically, was first to put things in perspective. ‘That was probably the compressor in the basement,’ he said. ‘at least I sincerely hope it was.’ He forced a laugh. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Pace was good and I’m confident you could all feel that the whole shebang was in full flow. Take a five minute break and we’ll continue where we left off.’
Five minutes later the entire cast got into the spirit of things and were well on in Act 2 before Mark called a brief halt to clarify a couple of points. ‘The first of the murders in the play,’ he said, ‘is already taking effect with each cup of tea that Grizelda drinks. It is quite clear that she is inevitably being poisoned. Slowly but effectively the audience will anticipate the murder of the step-mother by Cindy. As each scene develops it becomes evident that after the Fairy Godmother magically appears to advise her daughter to fight back against the step-sons a second murder is about to take place.
Giles was specifically absorbed to see how well Marlene, as Cindy, would handle the small gun. He was confident her expertise was sound enough to handle the weapon in the fashion of a stage magician and he hoped the fatal shot and collapse of Cyril would be close enough to realism that would shock and thrill an audience. Giles leaned forward as the scene rushed to the part where Cindy was threatening Cyril.
‘Take one step nearer and I’ll kill you.’ The delivery was slow and threatening and Cindy looked as if she meant every word she said.
‘Hmm! Got some spirit have we? I like that in a woman. And how do you propose to kill me? Got a pistol in your bra?’
The Cinderella Murders Page 8
