Fallen Skies. Philippa Gregory

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СКАЧАТЬ the hot lights, matching her kick to the others, then keeping the rhythm of the music with the low half-kicks as the line folded in on itself and Lily and Susie were face to face and then pairing off, dancing around, in pairs through the middle and into the line of the can-can again.

      It was a short number. Can-can was spectacular, but exhausting. Charlie played it at the edge of safety – as fast as he dared. The girls’ screams as they kicked, or cartwheeled, or jumped into the splits, were screams of protest, not excitement. But Lily loved it. The relief at her song being over, her simple delight at being on stage and the absolute fun of the music and the dancing, and Charlie’s darkened face in the orchestra pit, kept her feet pounding on the stage. The final dance step and dive into the splits came too soon for her. Lily stayed in the splits, her head up, her face radiant.

      ‘Applause, applause, rapturous applause,’ William said miserably. ‘Walk down.’

      The chorus girls stepped smartly up, walked forward in time to Charlie’s brisk march, took a bow and then fell back either side of the stage. In order of increasing importance the stars entered from the rear of the stage, strode forwards, took a bow and stepped to one side. Arnold the drunken magician stood in front of Lily and she could see nothing more than his back and his outflung hand inviting applause.

      The curtain fell, throwing the stage into twilight. The cast formed themselves into two straight lines facing the curtain, waiting for it to rise again. They bowed. The curtain fell. The music reached a closing phrase and stopped.

      It was as if the strings of puppets had been snapped. All the smiles were switched off and everybody slumped, ostentatiously weary.

      ‘That fool on the light had me in blue,’ Sylvia de Charmante exclaimed.

      ‘Darling girl, if you don’t hold your basket steady I’ll be taking ribbons off your tits, not out of your basket,’ Arnold said to Madge. ‘I can’t run around the stage after you.’

      ‘We were too bunched up in the can-can,’ Helena complained. ‘I was squashed in the middle.’

      ‘I can’t spread out any more,’ Susie replied. ‘I was half in the wings as it was.’

      The curtains rose slowly, as if to signal this was work, not performance.

      ‘Get changed and then out here for notes in five minutes,’ William said. ‘All of you. Five minutes only.’

      Lily looked towards the orchestra pit to Charlie. He was checking his sheet music and did not look up.

      ‘Come on, Lily,’ said one of the girls. ‘We’ve only got five minutes.’

      The ‘notes’ were William’s final chance to make corrections. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand. The stars he spoke to individually. Sylvia de Charmante was soothed and complimented until she consented to sit down and listen to the general comments. She even agreed to speed up ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’.

      ‘It can sound like a dirge otherwise,’ William said tactfully. ‘It’s the song. It’s draggy. I love the way you do it, but it needs to move along.’

      He was not so tender with the feelings of the dancers, nor the jugglers, nor the conjuror.

      ‘Arnold, get yourself sorted out,’ he said. ‘We could see the ribbons in the baskets. It needs to be quicker.’

      ‘The girl must hold the basket still,’ Arnold said, looking reproachfully at Madge.

      ‘She will,’ William said with quiet menace. ‘Now, jugglers – I know it’s difficult on a stage raked as steeply as this one; but you’re hired to catch the bloody things, not fling them past each other into the wings.’

      ‘Hypnotist – very nice. Lily – very nice. Tumblers – very nice. Can you speed up the final position a bit? It’s slow.’

      The tumblers nodded.

      ‘The walk-down.’ There was a brief depressed silence. ‘Do it again,’ William said. ‘I’m sorry, but we’ll do it again and again until it goes march-march-march. You’re trailing down like you’re off to the Somme. I want a bit of briskness. I want a bit of life. Back up on stage and don’t wander off. You’re all going to the right places but you’re taking too long. I want it quick. I want it catchy. I want you to run if you have to. Gentlemen – you can certainly run. Ladies – an elegant scuttle please. March-march-march. Let’s get a move on.’

      There was a general murmur of irritation and boredom and then the cast went back up the catwalk to the stage and took their places.

      ‘Chorus girls, you’re in your line, in the splits. Don’t bunch up. Spread out. There’s only six of you, there’s no need to advertise it. Spread out and look like twenty.’

      Lily wriggled over sideways.

      ‘Now, Charlie! Can we have the whole thing quicker?’

      ‘You can do. But it’ll be more of a gallop than a march.’

      ‘Gallop the bloody thing then. Let’s have the Charge of the Light Brigade, not an advance up the Menin Road. I want it to move!’

      Charlie nodded to the orchestra. One, two-three, four,’ he said quickly. ‘That speed. Off we go. One, two-three, four.’

      The drum rolled. The chorus line leaped to their feet, stepped briskly forward and bowed. Lily found herself almost running backwards, trying to keep time to the music and get to her place.

      The stars stormed down the centre of the stage, bowed, and dashed to their positions. Only Sylvia de Charmante swayed down, serene and unruffled, at the same speed as before, smiling.

      ‘Thank you,’ William said. ‘Hold it there.’

      Lily waited with malicious anticipation for Sylvia de Charmante to receive one of William’s pithy criticisms.

      ‘Much, much better,’ he said. ‘That’s the speed. That’s fine. Sylvia, you were gorgeous. Just a tiny bit faster to the front and the audience will have longer to see you. You’re lost at the back of the stage, we don’t know you’re there. Come downstage quicker and you have all the time in the world in the spotlight taking your bow.’

      Lily eyed William with growing respect.

      ‘Ok then, we’re done,’ William said. ‘Over to you, Mike.’

      The SM came out from the wings, his shirt blotchy with sweat. ‘Tea matinée tomorrow at three,’ he said. ‘Everyone here by two thirty. Any problems with costumes, see Mary in wardrobe straight away. Two thirty tomorrow. Goodnight everybody. Well done.’

      Lily went back to the dressing room and found her hat and coat. The hat had fallen off the peg to the floor and was dusty. Lily brushed it absent-mindedly and pulled it on her head. She wanted to see Charlie.

      She went back up the stairs to the stage. The crew were tidying up and the SM had gone from his corner. Lily stepped out on to the stage and looked out into the darkness. With the stage lights dimmed she could see the auditorium. Immediately below the stage were the stalls. Each seat had a little bracket where a tray for drinks or tea could be clipped. Lily tried to imagine the seats filled with people talking, laughing, drinking and flirting.

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