When the Curtain Falls

  ‘Well, maybe I’ve learnt my lesson.’

  ‘And what lesson is that?’

  ‘That it doesn’t matter what other people think. If other people want to speculate, let them. That shouldn’t interfere with how we feel and how we act around each other and if I want to kiss you, then, damnit, I’m going to… as long as it’s okay with you?’

  ‘And what if it’s not?’

  ‘It’d suck. But I’d just have to deal with it and —’ Without warning Olive took his chin between her thumb and her curled fingers, turned his head to face her, and pressed her lips against his. The shock of it wore off quickly and Oscar wrapped his arms around her and noticed just how easily she fit there. Olive could feel him smiling against her lips and she enjoyed the taste of champagne on his tongue, but that was only a small part of the reason she kept leaning back in for more kisses.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispered.

  ‘I know,’ she laughed.

  ‘Haven’t you missed me?’ He squeezed her tight.

  ‘Oh, you’re so needy!’ She rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep the smile from her lips nor the sparkle from her eyes. ‘Please don’t screw me over, Oscar?’

  ‘I’m not a loser,’ he said, but she narrowed her eyes at him and he could see the cogs in her head turning. ‘I acted like a loser. But I’m not one. I’ve learned my lesson and I won’t be making the same mistakes twice. I promise.’ Olive nodded. ‘I choose you,’ he whispered, brushing his nose against hers, but a large crash from somewhere inside the building made them reluctantly turn their attention away from each other.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Michael ran up the few steps and flung open the double doors that led to the back of the auditorium. ‘Oh my God…!’ Michael shouted as he ran down the central aisle to the stage, followed by Howard and a couple of the show’s producers.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Olive took Oscar’s hand and led him over to the doors.

  ‘Stay there, let me take a look first,’ Oscar said, putting his hands on her shoulders, but Olive caught a glimpse of something and her stomach turned.

  ‘Who is that on the stage?’ she asked.

  ‘Probably someone in the crew. I’ll go and have a check. You stay here.’

  ‘Someone call an ambulance!’ Howard’s voice sounded panicked and Olive could see Jane scrambling to call the number on her phone while Tamara turned away from the group with her hands over her eyes.

  ‘Oz, where’s Doug?’ Olive scanned the bar for Doug’s face, but he was the only person she couldn’t see. ‘WHERE’S DOUG?!’ Olive shouted as she pushed her way out of Oscar’s hands and ran as best she could in her heels towards the stage. A small crowd had formed; glass and twisted bits of metal scattered at their feet and something inside Olive already knew what she was about to find.

  ‘Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance. It’s my friend… something’s happened.’ Jane fought through her tears to explain. The sound of Olive’s heartbeat filled her ears, drowning out Jane’s voice, as she stopped at the orchestra pit and gripped the velvet-covered rail in her cold yet sweaty hands.

  As she looked towards the stage, Olive could see Doug’s body lying at Howard’s feet. His face was twisted towards her, but she could barely make out his features under the veil of blood coating his face. Next to his head was a large light from the rigging above their heads, crushing his shoulder and his arm and pinning him to the stage. Oscar caught Olive as her knees gave way underneath her.

  ‘He’s unconscious, Olive,’ Howard said, as he walked towards her. ‘He’s alive but his arm is trapped. We can’t move it because we don’t know how… how bad it is.’

  ‘Howard, what can I do?’ Oscar asked.

  ‘Help’s on its way.’ Jane sniffed.

  ‘I need to leave. I can’t stay here.’ Tamara teetered from the stage and disappeared into the darkness of the wing, but Jane stayed even though she was as helpless as everyone else.

  ‘None of us can really do anything until the paramedics get here,’ Oscar said, as he felt a coldness running through his bones. He thought it was just the shock setting in but when he looked up to the fly floor and to the rigging where there was now a missing light, he was sure he saw two fizzling blue eyes staring back at him. Oscar thought it must just be a trick of the light, or something to do with him being scared and in shock at Doug’s accident. But as he squinted into the darkness, he saw the eyes blink twice before they vanished as the face they belonged to turned away.

  ‘Olive, wait here, I’ll be right back.’

  ‘Oscar,’ she whimpered. The tears had started to come thick and fast now, and her hands were only just holding her up against the barrier of the orchestra pit.

  ‘I’ll be back in a second. I’m going to let Stage Door know to let the paramedics in.’ Olive nodded, and Oscar kissed her quickly. ‘Howard, keep an eye on her. Keep her safe.’ Howard nodded and sat himself down on the edge of the stage, his legs dangling over the pit, not quite able to look back at Doug.

  Oscar’s feet moved quickly through the pass door, through the wings and up the ladder that would take him to the fly floor. He jumped onto the metal grated floor, expecting to come face to face with the man those cold eyes belonged to. They had looked like the eyes of the woman he’d met only an hour or so earlier, but he knew it wasn’t her. Her eyes had been warm and yellow but the eyes he’d seen only moments ago were blue and cold and he was certain they had been looking directly at him.

  ‘Who’s there? Show yourself!’ Oscar hissed, as he looked at the scene below him on the stage. Poor Doug’s body was limp and Oscar couldn’t imagine the horror the paramedics would uncover underneath the light. How bad was the damage? Would he regain the use of his arm? Would they have to amputate? Oscar could hear sirens approaching through the vents and he willed them to hurry. ‘I don’t know who you are or what game you’re playing but if this is your doing, whoever you are, know that you’ve made a lot of enemies here tonight and we will find you.’ Oscar waited, but was met with nothing but silence. He went to put his feet back on the rungs of the ladder, when a noise made his ears prick. It was the sound of crackling, like that of a log fire. He looked up and there it was: a singular little ball of flame, yellow and bright and so close to his face it looked like a sparkler, dancing in the air. It whizzed around his head and down the ladder, and Oscar quickly tried to follow it, clambering down, losing his footing half way as he half fell, half slid to the ground. He thought he’d lost track of it until its bright light shone from the corridor through the window in the door. He threw himself through the doors and chased the crackling sound up the flight of stairs and through the first set of double doors at stage door. It darted through the little hatch where Walter usually sat, bursting clean through the door behind Walter’s chair, leaving a little hole no bigger than a peephole. Just then stage door burst open and two paramedics rushed in, carrying a stretcher and boxes of medical supplies.

  ‘We were called?’

  ‘Yes, there’s been an accident on the stage. It’s right through these doors, down one flight of stairs to the stage. Please hurry. It’s our friend Doug. He’s been hit by a light that came loose and fell onto the stage.’ Oscar noticed Walter’s office door had opened.

  ‘Thank you,’ they said and charged past Oscar as he held the other set of doors open for them as best he could.

  ‘Oscar, what’s going on? Is Doug okay?’ asked Walter but suddenly the little ball of sparks appeared beside his head and whizzed around and around so fast, Walter had to shut his eyes. The image of the flaming woman writing Walter’s name in the air burned in Oscar’s mind and he berated himself for not coming to ask Walter for help sooner.

  ‘Walter, I have some questions and… I think you have the answers.’ The fireball stopped whizzing and flew straight at Oscar’s chest, bursting on impact, making his black suit jacket sparkle.

  ‘Well, in that case,’ Walter said, ‘I think you’d better come in.’

&nbs
p; 16

  Dying Embers

  ‘What’s the time, Lenny?’ Walter couldn’t stop his foot from tapping and he cracked his knuckles over and over.

  ‘Time you stopped annoying me. That noise makes my skin crawl,’ Lenny complained.

  ‘Is it before the half?’

  Lenny checked his watch. ‘It’s quarter to seven. You got ten minutes.’

  ‘I’m going to take the post round. There’s a few letters for… for Fawn and… and a couple of others.’ Walter snatched the letters out of their pigeon holes and shuffled them into a quick pile.

  ‘All right,’ Lenny smirked. ‘But make sure you’re out of those rooms before six fifty-five. If I ’ear you were in dressing room four when Danny does his rounds to give the call, I will box your ears!’

  ‘Keep. Your. Voice. Down,’ Walter warned before darting into the corridor and up the stairs. He straightened his shirt beneath his knitted vest and rapped his knuckles underneath the shining golden number four on the dressing room door.

  ‘Just one second!… Who is it?’ Fawn’s voice rang out. Walter twisted the handle and stuck his head around the door. ‘Come in! Come in!’ she whispered, running to him, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock until it clicked. She pulled on the door knob, giving it a rattle to make sure it was firmly bolted. ‘Had I known it was you I wouldn’t have made myself decent in such a hurry.’ She threw herself into Walter’s arms and kissed him. ‘You know you never have to knock.’

  ‘I do if we don’t want people knowing about us. Me bursting in here unannounced makes it pretty obvious that we’re more than just acquaintances!’

  ‘Oh, if only they could see what happens behind closed doors.’ Fawn kissed him again, her dressing gown falling open. She took his hands and slid them inside her gown, against the bare skin of her waist, and all Walter could think was that he’d never felt anything softer.

  ‘Fawn…’ he warned.

  ‘What…?’ She laughed against his mouth, kissing along his jawline and down into the crook of his neck.

  ‘I need to be out of this room in a couple of minutes. Lenny said —’

  ‘Lenny wouldn’t be able to say anything if I said I wanted you in here.’

  ‘I’m sure Hamish would love that.’

  ‘I don’t belong to Hamish.’ Fawn pulled away abruptly, almost knocking Walter off balance. She sat in her green armchair and turned to the mirror, twirling her hair around her finger and then pinning the neatly curled clump onto her head.

  ‘You don’t belong to anyone. You’re a woman, not a dog. But we’re hiding for a reason, Fawn. Once this show is over —’

  ‘Nothing changes. Hamish already has another production lined up and he’s already made negotiations with my father for me to play the lead.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I just… can’t see a way out.’ Fawn’s hand fumbled in the pin box for another pin, but she accidentally tipped the box onto its side, the contents spilling out onto the dressing table and floor. ‘Argh!’ She threw the single pin in her hand against the mirror and, sobbing, let her head sink into her hands.

  ‘Fawn, I…’ Walter had no idea what he could say that would make her feel any better or make their situation suddenly brighter. There was nothing. And just as his helplessness nearly overwhelmed him, there was a knock on Fawn’s door and the handle shook. Fawn clamped a hand over Walter’s mouth.

  ‘Who is it?’ Fawn asked. Walter quickly whipped out his handkerchief and threw it at her as he ran to her costume rack and hid behind her burgundy dress and her other clothes as best he could. Fawn wiped her eyes and did up her dressing gown with her fumbling hands.

  ‘It’s Danny. That’s the half, Miss Burrows.’

  ‘Okay, thank you, Danny!’ she shouted through the door. ‘Call Boys will shatter my nerves by the end of this job.’ She turned to see Walter coming out from his very obvious hiding place. She couldn’t help but smile at him, but then the tears came once more. Walter ran to her and swept her up in his arms and tried to hush her as she wept.

  ‘What if this is it?’ she whispered. ‘What if this is all the time we get?’ Walter was quiet and rocked her from side to side, but he could feel the unsettling feeling in her creep out from her bones and wheedle its way under his own skin.

  ‘I won’t let that happen.’ Walter could already feel his brain whirring. A million thoughts filled his head but they all seemed to lead towards a dead end: Hamish. Just then Fawn’s door rattled again as the man in question made himself known.

  ‘Fawn?’ Hamish immediately tried the handle. ‘Why is your door locked?’ Walter felt Fawn’s heart leap into the rafters of the theatre.

  ‘Just a moment! I’m getting dressed!’ Fawn ushered Walter back to the costume rack but he ran to her window, unlatched it and flung it open. It was a long way down to the pavement but there was a ledge jutting out from underneath the window, big enough for him to stand on with his back against the bricks of the theatre.

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind, sweetie.’ Hamish continued to rattle the door handle, trying to jimmy the lock.

  ‘You can’t,’ Fawn gasped, holding onto his shirt sleeve.

  ‘I have to,’ Walter sat on the sill and swung his legs outside. He slowly stood up on the narrow ledge, his shaking legs making it hard to find his balance, but finally he found his footing. ‘Shut the window, Fawn.’

  ‘Walter…’

  ‘Fawn, I will get Lenny to open this door if I have to,’ Hamish called impatiently.

  ‘Come back later! Visitors in the half make me nervous.’

  ‘I’m not just a visitor, Fawn, I am your producer.’

  ‘Fawn, just shut the window and let him in,’ Walter whispered as she cautiously let go of his shirt sleeve.

  ‘I’ll get rid of him as quickly as possible. Be as quiet as you can. He hears everything and please, dear God, don’t fall and don’t give yourself away… no matter what you hear.’ Fawn closed the windows and Walter breathed as deeply and as evenly as he could, his whole body sweating.

  Fawn ran to the door and before she was able to fully unlock it, Hamish twisted the handle and pushed it open, knocking Fawn to the ground.

  ‘What on earth have you been doing?’ Hamish strutted past her into the room, looking around. He beat her costume with his cane, pulling it from its hanger, and then pulled her own clothes off their hangers with his gloved hand.

  ‘Hamish…’ Fawn stood, but backed away from him and clamped her hands against the edge of her dressing table for support. Hamish’s body seemed bigger than usual, his cloak wafting out around him as he stalked about the room. Fawn realised it was his arrogance and his possessiveness that spilled out of him and spread to every corner and crack in the paintwork of the walls.

  ‘Hmm? Answers, girl. I need answers.’ Hamish snatched up his cane so that he had a better grip on it and pointed the silver handle at her.

  ‘I… I told you. I don’t like visitors before the half and so I lock my door.’

  ‘And I told you, I am not just a visitor. If I want to come into your room, then this door should never be locked to me.’

  ‘Hamish, I need some privacy —’

  ‘AND I NEED SOME OBEDIENCE.’ Hamish grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him, but she struggled, twisting her body away from him. He brought the cane up underneath her chin and gripped it either side of her head, holding her there, pressed up against him by her throat. Hamish turned her head so that his lips were pressed up against her ear and whispered, ‘You’re playing games with me, Fawn. I don’t like games, especially ones I don’t win. I know you weren’t in here alone. Someone was seen coming in here and I will find out who and I will find out why.’

  ‘Hamish, I —’

  ‘Shh.’ Fawn squirmed against his hold, but he gripped his cane tighter and she could feel the heat of his body, and suddenly she was having difficulty breathing. Hamish pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled the scent of her jasmine perfume. ‘You a
re mine and only mine. And it won’t be long before we make that official.’ Hamish kissed her cheek and down her neck, tasting the salt of her hot tears. ‘I’ve been speaking with your father and if you want to remain a star of the stage, you’ll have to marry me and if you do not, I will make sure your little feet never set foot in a theatre again.’ Fawn struggled against him again and this time Hamish let her go.

  ‘I will never marry you.’ Fawn backed up against the latched windows. She wiped her tears away with the handkerchief Walter had given her, but she quickly balled it up in her fist when she caught the initials ‘WB’ embroidered in its corner.

  ‘Well, then. Your debut was also your finale,’ Hamish said as he straightened his jacket and pulled his cloak around himself.