Peter Lovesey - Stagestruck

‘Ah.’ Spooks didn’t interest Diamond, and the letdown he felt must have been obvious.

‘Don’t look so disbelieving,’ the man said. ‘She’s real enough. We know precisely when she topped herself and where.’

‘Tell him, then,’ the barmaid said, and winked at Diamond. ‘Pretend you’re shaking in your shoes.’

The man said, ‘She strung a rope over a door right here in the Garrick’s Head and hanged herself, in the year 1812.’

‘And came back as a ghost?’

‘Any number of people have seen her. Are you old enough to remember Anna Neagle? Probably not, if I’m any judge. Dame Anna had her feet on the ground if ever an actor did. She was playing in something in the nineteen-seventies and she and the entire cast saw the grey lady in the upper box, stage right, just as the curtain rose. Imagine that.’

‘They probably did.’

The barmaid cackled with laughter.

‘Be like that,’ the man said in an injured tone. ‘If you don’t want to know, why ask me?’ This had turned personal and he was ruffled.

Diamond gave an honest answer. ‘Just now I thought you were talking about Clarion Calhoun.’

‘That poor creature? There’s nothing spooky about her. I shouldn’t say this, but the accident is a blessing in disguise. She was dreadful in rehearsal.’

The barmaid said, ‘Titus, that’s unfair.’

Titus ignored her. His focus was sharply on Diamond. ‘Are you a fan, then? Without wishing to offend, you don’t look like one.’

Diamond was well practised at giving nothing away about himself. ‘I was just reading about it in the paper. They say she’s in hospital and receiving treatment for burns, so it must be serious.’

‘Yes, I shouldn’t have been flippant. No one wishes that on her. A visitor, are you?’

‘To the Garrick’s Head, yes.’

‘I thought I hadn’t seen you before. I’m Titus O’Driscoll, dramaturge.’

‘Peter Diamond.’ He played the last word over in his head. ‘What’s that – dramaturge?’

‘Consultant on the theory and practice of writing drama.’ Titus O’Driscoll paused for that to be savoured and for Diamond to volunteer more about himself, which he didn’t. ‘Do you have any theatrical connections, Peter?’

Everything up to now suggested that the man was gay and interested in finding out if Diamond was. He had himself to blame for getting on first-name terms. ‘No. I came in for a drink, that’s all. Were you in the audience last night?’

There was a disdainful sniff from the dramaturge. ‘I took a squint at the dress rehearsal and decided to pass my time more productively in here.’

‘But it’s clear you know what goes on in the theatre.’

The barmaid said, ‘And how! It keeps him going.’

Titus gave Diamond a sharp look. ‘You’re not press, by any chance?’

‘Lord, no.’

‘It was panic stations this morning,’ Titus said. ‘Absolute mayhem. The police were here, would you believe? Hedley Shearman, our theatre director, was having kittens.’

‘Why? Is he responsible?’

‘Quite the opposite. He didn’t want the Clarion woman playing on his stage, but they twisted his arm, saying that bringing in a pop star was a sure way to sell tickets. And now he’s having to make a show of sympathy for her whilst bracing himself for the lawsuit to come.’

‘Who did the arm-twisting?’

‘The trust. Certain of them, anyway. You know how theatres work? Most of them are run as charitable trusts and usually they keep at arm’s length, leaving the artistic decisions to the people who know, but if two or three individuals get together and want to wield power, they can. After a rather indifferent season, the pressure was on for a commercial success, so they leaned on Hedley to revive this clunky old play and give Clarion the star part. And to be fair it looked as if it was going to pay off. The pre-production publicity was sensational.’

‘They’ll be regretting it now.’

‘Too right they will. The box office is under siege with people returning tickets.’

‘The show’s continuing, is it?’

‘With the understudy, Gisella, yes. She’s a far better actor than Clarion, but nobody cares. It’s the end of the Theatre Royal.’

The barmaid said, ‘Don’t be so melodramatic, Titus. It hasn’t burned down, or anything.’

‘It may as well have.’

‘He’s like that,’ she said to Diamond. ‘Never looks on the bright side. When the Blues Brothers was on he was telling everybody they’d bring the house down, literally.’

‘It was only thanks to me that it remained standing,’ Titus said. ‘I was responsible for those notices in the foyer: “Due to the historic nature of this building kindly refrain from stamping.” My forethought saved us, without a doubt.’

‘Getting back to last night’s accident,’ Diamond said, ‘does anyone know the cause?’

‘If you ask me,’ Titus said, ‘it’s open to suspicion.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, she was hopeless in the part and she knew it, and now she’s out of it and planning to sue.’

‘But there’s no argument about what happened, is there? She’s in hospital, so the injury must be real.’

‘That’s for the doctors to decide,’ Titus said.

‘Don’t you believe it?’

‘I believe this much: she’s displaying symptoms of some sort and the screaming was very convincing and the hospital are taking it seriously.’

‘By “symptoms” you mean the skin damage?’

‘Whatever that amounts to.’

‘It must be serious, for her to be kept in hospital,’ Diamond said, doing his best to keep this discussion going. ‘How do you get skin damage on the stage? I suppose it’s down to the make-up.’

Titus said in an interested tone, ‘Do you know about makeup, Peter?’

‘Not at all.’ Diamond had walked into that. He didn’t want to raise false expectations. ‘Hardly anything. I’m saying it’s a possible cause, no more.’

‘You could be right if something like chilli powder was mixed in with the foundation.’

‘Chilli powder?’ the barmaid shrieked in disbelief.

‘I don’t know for certain,’ Titus said. ‘Some irritant that would itch and bring her face up in blotches and make it impossible for her to continue.’

‘I’m speechless,’ the barmaid said. ‘How could she possibly get chilli powder in her make-up?’

‘Deliberately. She was looking for some reason to drop out of the play so she mixed it in herself. Unfortunately for her, the ingredients reacted badly and caused the burning.’

‘If it was self-inflicted, she’ll have no claim against the theatre,’ Diamond pointed out.

The barmaid laughed again. ‘There you go, Titus. You’ve proved yourself wrong.’

Diamond didn’t gloat. He’d already decided Titus might be a useful ally. Whatever his duties as the dramaturge amounted to, he appeared to have some status in the theatre. There was one small concern, the risk of raising unreal expectations. ‘We were just exploring theories. What Titus was saying sounds possible.’

‘You see?’ Titus seized on it at once. ‘When people listen carefully, they discover truth in my remarks. Peter, how would you like to join me on a ghost hunt?’

‘The grey lady?’ He gave a token smile, about to turn the offer down. ‘Inside the theatre, you mean?’ Instinctively he baulked at the prospect and it wasn’t the ghost that troubled him. Old reactions were stirring, a profound resistance to stepping inside the place. Yet as a professional he knew he ought to take up this chance. ‘Would they allow us in?’

‘My dear, I’m on the strength. I can take you in.’

He turned a deaf ear to the ‘my dear’ and swallowed the rest of his beer and with it some of his anxiety. ‘All right, Titus. You’re on.’