The Strangling on the Stage (22 page)

‘And did you build lots of stage machinery, special effects, that kind of thing?' asked Carole. ‘Like the gallows for
The Devil's Disciple
?'

‘Oh yes, that sort of thing was always my responsibility. Freddie would come up to me and he'd say, “Now I may be asking the impossible, Gordon, but it seems to me that the impossible has always rather appealed to you.” And then he'd say what his latest fancy was. Do you remember, Elizaveta, when we were doing
As You Like It
, and Freddie asked me if I could make those thrones for the palace which were trees when they were turned round?'

‘Oh, goodness me, yes, Gordon! Such a coup de théâtre they were. Suddenly, with just the turning of a few chairs, we were right there in the Forest of Arden. It got a round of applause every night. Wonderful, Gordon, wasn't it?'

He positively glowed beneath his ginger beard. ‘All my own work. Yes, though I say it myself.'

But, from Elizaveta Dalrymple's point of view, Gordon was now taking too much credit on himself. ‘Though, of course, it was Freddie's concept,' she said quite sharply.

‘Oh yes,' a chastened Gordon Blaine agreed. ‘It was very definitely Freddie's concept.'

‘And the
Fethering Observer
gave a real rave of a review for my Rosalind. Which was rather one in the eye for those SADOS members who suggested I might be a bit old for the part.'

‘I remember,' Mimi Lassiter chimed in. ‘The
Fethering Observer
actually talked about you moving “with the coltish grace of a teenage girl”.'

‘But that's what acting's about,' Elizaveta enthused. ‘You think yourself into the character you are playing, you become that person. Considerations like age and size and shape become totally irrelevant once you're caught up in the magic of the theatre. And, Gordon,' she said, feeling that the technician should now be thrown some kind of magnanimous sop, ‘your chairs that turned into trees were part of the magic of that
As You Like It
.'

He grinned, his good humour instantly restored.

‘Anyway, Gordon,' said Carole, eager to steer the conversation round to Ritchie Good's death, ‘you've also done a splendid job on those gallows for
The Devil's Disciple
.'

‘Oh, relatively straightforward, those were.' He started to laugh. ‘Certainly compared to the palaver I had with that balcony on wheels Freddie wanted for
Romeo & Juliet
!'

Elizaveta Dalrymple laughed theatrically at the recollection, while Jude winced inwardly, visualizing a Juliet with flamenco hair and a Romeo with a pointed goatee beard.

‘But the gallows,' Carole insisted. ‘They seem to work very well. Possibly even
too
well,' she dared to add.

Her words did actually prompt a brief silence. Then Gordon said, rather defensively, ‘I created a set of gallows that were completely safe. Everyone saw that. If they'd been used properly, Ritchie Good'd be alive today. I can't be held responsible if people mess around with the equipment I've made.'

‘By “messing around” you mean changing the doctored noose for the solid one?' suggested Carole.

‘Exactly.'

‘Can I ask something?' said Jude innocently. ‘Why did you have a solid noose when the one that was going to be used would always be the one with Velcro?'

Gordon appeared pleased to have been asked the question, as it gave him an opportunity to provide a technical explanation. ‘I was determined to make the gallows look real, so I needed to see what it would look like with a proper noose attached. Then I'd know what the doctored one had to look like.'

‘But why did you bring it with you to St Mary's Hall that Sunday when you were demonstrating it?'

‘Ah well.' He coloured slightly. ‘The fact is, I had planned to have the stage curtains open during the rehearsal, with the gallows there with a proper noose. Then anyone in the company who had a look at it would see a real, businesslike noose there, and they'd be even more surprised when Ritchie appeared to have it round his neck.'

‘What, and you would have switched the two nooses just before the demonstration?'

‘Yes. We'd have drawn the curtains for a moment and done it. I thought that'd be more dramatic. But Ritchie didn't. He said we'd get the maximum effect if the curtains were closed right through the rehearsal, and then when we opened them we'd get a real coo … what was that thing you said, Elizaveta?'

‘Coup de théâtre,' she supplied.

‘Exactly. One of those.' Gordon looked grumpy. ‘I still think my way would have been better.'

‘Well, it was quite dramatic,' said Jude. ‘Of course, you weren't there, were you, Carole?'

‘No, but you told me about it. So after the demonstration, Gordon, someone must have switched the two nooses round.'

‘Yes.'

‘But you don't know who?'

‘I know it wasn't me,' he said huffily.

‘I wasn't suggesting—'

‘Mind you, I can think of one or two people in SADOS who might have—'

‘I'm not sure,' Elizaveta Dalrymple interrupted magisterially, ‘that I want my entire “drinkies thing” taken up with talk about that ill-mannered boor Ritchie Good.'

‘I'm sorry,' said Jude meekly.

‘But I've spent a lot of time,' Gordon continued, ‘thinking how the two nooses got switched, and I've come to the conclusion that—'

‘Nor,' Elizaveta steamrollered on, ‘do we want to spend the whole time talking about your wretched gallows – particularly since you've already spent one entire evening telling us all about them.'

‘Have I?' asked Gordon, puzzled.

‘Yes,' said Olly Pinto. ‘It was three weeks ago, the day before you were going to do the demonstration. We were all here for Elizaveta's “drinkies thing” and you couldn't talk about anything else. Goodness, by the time you'd finished we all knew enough about your gallows to have built a replica ourselves.'

Carole and Jude exchanged a quick look before the SADOS Mr Fixit said abjectly, ‘Oh, I'm sorry. Was I a bore?'

‘Yes, I'm afraid you were, Gordon darling,' Elizaveta replied. ‘Let's just say that by the time the evening finished the gallows was a subject on which you had “delighted us long enough”.'

Her coterie sniggered at the line, unaware that Elizaveta had filched it from Jane Austen. Then the star of the show vouchsafed a gracious smile to Carole and Jude. ‘Now do tell me, you two, what's
The Devil's Disciple
going to be
like
?'

‘I think it's coming together,' Jude replied cautiously.

‘And is Olly keeping you busy as prompter?'

‘Still a little ragged on the lines,' Carole was forced to admit.

Elizaveta smiled indulgently on the young man under discussion. ‘Yes, you always go for the approximate approach, don't you, Olly? I remember you were all over the place as Lysander in Freddie's
Dream
.'

‘It didn't matter,' said Olly gallantly. ‘No one in the audience had eyes for anyone except your Titania.'

‘And Freddie's Oberon,' said Elizaveta in gentle reproof.

‘Oh yes, of course.'

‘And our doubling, me also playing Hippolyta and Freddie giving his Theseus.'

‘Yes, they were all splendid,' said Olly.

‘There was a very good production of
A Midsummer Night's Dream
at the RSC last season,' Jude volunteered.

‘Really?' Elizaveta Dalrymple dismissed the idea. For her theatre began and ended with the SADOS. No stage other than St Mary's Hall was of any significance. ‘Anyway,' she went on, ‘it doesn't matter so much, I suppose, if Olly's paraphrasing George Bernard Shaw's lines. They are at least in prose. But with Shakespeare's blank verse it was a complete disaster.'

Olly grinned winsomely, as if already enjoying the chastisement he was about to receive.

‘“Doesn't the boy have any sense of rhythm?” Freddie kept asking. “How can anyone have such a tin ear for the beauties of blank verse?”' Elizaveta laughed and the others joined in, Olly as heartily as anyone. ‘He did try to help you, didn't he?'

‘Oh yes,' Olly agreed. ‘Freddie was always so generous with his time and his talent.'

‘He was.' Elizaveta let out a nostalgic sigh. ‘And of course Freddie was a wonderful verse speaker.' Everyone mumbled endorsements of this self-evident truth, as she focused a beady eye on Olly. ‘So, will you know your
Devil's Disciple
lines by the first night?'

‘Of course I will. Sheer terror will keep me going.'

‘Oh yes. When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.'

The coterie greeted Elizaveta's latest bon mot with more laughter, unaware that she was quoting Dr Johnson. Then she turned sharply to Jude and asked, ‘How's Davina doing?'

‘Doing in what way?'

‘As a director, of course.'

‘Well, she seems to be … fine.' Jude wasn't sure what kind of answer was expected. ‘I mean, obviously her plans were all disrupted by what happened to Ritchie, but she seems to have managed to regroup and … As I say, everything's fine.'

‘Hm.' Elizaveta Dalrymple managed to invest the monosyllable with a great deal of doubt and suspicion. ‘Of course, Freddie and I taught her everything she knows.'

‘In the theatre?'

‘Oh yes. Hadn't an idea in her head when she started in amdram. Freddie sort of took her under his wing. And she's developed into quite a nice little director. But I'm not sure how this
Devil's Disciple
is going to go.'

‘As I said, I think it'll be fine.'

Another loaded ‘Hm.' Elizaveta looked across to where Olly Pinto was deep in flirtatious chatter with Mimi Lassiter and the two old ladies. Then she moved closer to Jude and started to whisper.

Carole felt awkward. She wasn't quite near enough to hear and she didn't know whether she was meant to be included in the conversation. Rather than moving closer, she shifted nearer the window, as if suddenly fascinated by the movement of shipping beyond Smalting Beach.

‘At least,' Elizaveta whispered fiercely at Jude, ‘from Davina's point of view, she'll be better off with Olly as Dick Dudgeon than she would have been with Ritchie.'

‘Oh?'

‘Bit of bad blood between her and Ritchie. She thought he was keen on her, which he certainly appeared to be. But when she suggested taking the relationship further, he dropped her like a brick.'

Par for the course with Ritchie Good, thought Jude.

‘And Davina didn't like that at all. Hell hath no fury … you know the quote. No, Davina would have done anything to remove Ritchie from her production of
The Devil's Disciple
.'

A
s they walked to the Renault from Elizaveta Dalrymple's front door, Jude quickly told her neighbour what their hostess had whispered to her.

‘Strange,' Carole observed. ‘That's two people who've pointed the finger at Davina.'

‘Two?'

‘Come on, Jude. Neville Prideaux. I told you what he said.'

‘Oh yes.'

It was after eight and still just about light. They were suddenly aware of the spluttering sound of a car engine failing to fire. Then the slam of a door, a muttered curse and a bonnet being opened. They found themselves facing a very cross-looking Gordon Blaine in front of his ancient Land Rover.

‘Trouble?' asked Jude.

‘Bloody thing. It's got a new engine and … not a sign of life.'

‘Oh well, if it's a new engine,' said Carole, ‘at least you can bawl out whoever put it in for you.'

‘I put it in,' said Gordon Blaine lugubriously.

‘Ah. Oh. Well …'

‘Bloody useless!' He slammed the bonnet down, disturbing the genteel Saturday evening quiet of Smalting, and looked around in frustration. ‘Where the hell do you get a bloody cab in this place?'

‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?' asked Carole. ‘Where do you live?'

‘Fethering,' came the grumpy response.

‘What serendipity,' said Jude.

Gordon Blaine's house was a semi with a garage on the northern outskirts of the village. A couple of streets further along and he'd have been in Downside, regarded by people like Carole as the ‘common' part of Fethering.

She had insisted he sat in the front seat of the Renault, ‘because you've got longer legs than Jude'. As he got out he said, ‘Can I invite you two ladies in for a drink?'

Anticipating Carole's refusal on the grounds that they'd already had plenty, Jude said quickly that it was very kind of him, they'd love that. Reflected in the rear-view mirror, she could see the tug of annoyance at her neighbour's mouth.

The interior of the house was strangely cramped, a tiny sitting room with an even tinier kitchen en suite. The furniture was old and dark and the décor gave the impression that the owner didn't notice his surroundings. There seemed no evidence that Gordon cohabited with anyone. Nor did their host give the impression that he was much used to having guests.

‘Now, drinks …' he said rather helplessly. ‘You were drinking champagne at Elizaveta's, weren't you? I'm afraid I don't have any of that. Or white wine, actually. I think I've got some red … certainly beer. I'm going for the Scotch myself.'

‘That would suit me perfectly,' said Jude.

‘I'll just have water, because I'm driving.'

‘It'll have to be from the tap,' Gordon apologized. ‘I don't have any of that sparkling mineral stuff.'

‘Tap is fine.'

The ease with which he found the bottle of Teacher's and the size of the measures he poured suggested that he might have quite a taste for the whisky, though he probably rarely had company to share it with. He raised his glass. ‘Well, thanks very much for rescuing me.'