The woman he’d met in the dressing room only moments ago has been replaced by the woman from years before and he wishes that he’d seen back then the signs that something hadbeen so utterly wrong. She, so usually full of light and hope, so young and oblivious, looked like a woman who was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. He could see it all so clearly now in this cruel memory; in the way she held herself and in the dullness in her eyes. If only he had noticed all those years ago, he may have been able to stop her, but his twenty-two-year-old self hadbeen so blinded by love and the eagerness to escape to a new life with her. This night was meant to have been a night of triumph. A night of life for their love and a night of death for all that stood in their way.
‘Yes, Larson.Do as she says.’ The man in tweed smiles, taking a long drag on his cigar, the smoke billowing from his lips as he speaks. Larson stays put.
‘Please, Lars.Not here.’
‘She’s not yours,’ Larson hisses through gritted teeth and from the wings he mouths the line along with him.
‘Actually, Lars…I am.’ She holds up her left hand and reveals a large engagement ring that sends slivers of light dancing on the black stage floor. The ghosts of the audience gasp and a few let out audible sobs.
‘Eliza…no,’ Larson whispers. ‘NO!’ Larsonpulls out a gun from his inside jacket pocket and aims it at the man in tweed. She jumps back, out of the way.
‘Oh, Larson.’ The man in tweed sighs and taps his cigar, ash falling to the floor. ‘When will you learn? It doesn’t matter how well you scrub up or how many lavish parties you sneak yourself into. It doesn’t matter how many of London’s finest you rub shoulders with or even howmany wealthy women’s beds you wheedle your way into. You will never be good enough.’
‘Please don’t listen to him, Lars. Just go back inside.’ She is Eliza now, immersed in her role. She puts her hands on Larson’s arm and tries to lower the gun but Larson’s hold is strong and steady.
‘Do you love him?’ Larson asks, not daring to glance away from the other man. Eliza looks at Larson,her eyes filling up but her face unchanging. ‘Do you?’ he demands again.
‘I fear you’ll kill him either way.’
‘Eliza,’ he breathes. ‘If you tell me yes, how could you think that I would kill the man you love and put you through that misery? No, Eliza. Should you say yes, I will turn this gun on myself and the bullet will be destined for me.’
More sobs erupt from the auditorium.
‘Must we have all this drama? It’s terribly dull,’ says the man, waving his hand, the smoke from his cigar billowing into the air, ‘Weall know you don’t have the gall to shoot a rabbit, let alone a man. Just put the gun down, Larson.’
‘Do…you…love…him?’
‘I…’ She hesitates and, back in the wings, Walter feels every nerve ending fizz. That wasn’t her line then and it isn’ther line now. He had wondered then if maybe she’d forgotten but she had never forgotten a line in her entire professional life. Was this the moment when she had second thoughts about their plan? He had wondered all those years ago what could possibly have stopped her from saying the line, but had he known, he wonders if he would have had the courage to stop it anyway. And now, utterly powerless,he is forced to watch once more.
‘I…’ A tear rolls down her flushed cheek. Her chest rises and pushes against the fabric of her dress. ‘I…do not,’ she says and what happens next is a blur.
The trigger is pulled, the sound of a gunshot rings out, the lights go out and the gasping audience is plunged into darkness. All of this is as it should have been.
‘Bring up the lights!The lights!’ shouts the man playing Larson. There is panic in his voice. Real panic.
Slowly the lights fade up to reveal her body, centre stage. Her limbs are grotesquely twisted underneath her from where she has fallen and blood is starting to pool and trickle onto the stage. The audience erupts into screams and people start to push their way out of the aisles, desperation and fear drivingthem forward. The crew and actors flood the stage but no one goes to her.
‘Get out of here, boy.’
He feels hot, wet breath on the nape of his neck and can smell the cigar smoke but when he turns his head all he sees is the darkness of the wing. Yet, he still hears a voice say…
‘Run.’
He looks back to the stage and he knows exactly why no one had rushed to her aid thatnight. He knows why there was a perfect circle of people around her and not one of them dared to close the distance. It wasn’t fear or the amount of blood pouring from her. It wasn’t the shock and horror of it all, it was the simple awful truth that there was no helping her. It was too late. He crouches in the wing, his tears falling onto the dusty floor, and he can see that the light and deliciousvulnerability that used to live in her eyes, the light that she so happily shared when someone happened to glance her way, was gone.
His muscles relax and she and all of the other ghosts shimmer and fade and the stage is empty and cold once more. His eyes sting and he wills himself to stop crying. He trudges back through the wing, his step heavy, and sighs at the thought of putting allthe mirrors away. He has time though, so he walks past the mirrors, leaving them against the walls, useless to him now, and goes to his desk in his small room just inside the stage door. Newspaper cuttings cover every wall. Each one contains news and reviews of various productions ofWhen The Curtain Falls, collected over the years, and clippings of the headshots of its ever-changing cast. Heopens the laptop sitting on his desk and it springs into life and by the time he has managed to sink into the armchair, several emails have already pinged into his inbox. He scrolls through them, but one in particular catches his eye. It’s from the production company that owns the Southern Cross Theatre and the subject line readsNext In – CURTAIN FALLS. His old heart drums against his ribs withmore force than he thought it still had and his veins fill with fire. He opens the email with shaking fingers.
Dear Walter,
I am very pleased to announce that onceGone With The Windcloses, April brings with it a brand new revival ofWhen The Curtain Falls, exactly 66 years on, almost to the date. An obscure choice, perhaps, but we’ve discoveredthis play has a cult following, largely due to an accident that occurred during its last production which also happened to be at the Southern Cross Theatre. We think the combination of this connection and our new star-studded cast will pull in the punters!
The show also has a wonderful plot that we think audiences today will still connect with and enjoy. The show starts with a pairof young teens who we can tell are destined to spend their lives together. However, she is from money and sadly, he is not and while she is sent away to school in the USA, the boy, determined to win the girl and seeing no other way of earning the riches that may also earn his way into her life, becomes somewhat of a con artist. When the couple meet again as adults, he has far more money than he’dever dreamed of having, gained by clever but questionable means and he isn’t exactly who he says he is and whilst he is now a man of importance, is it worth the price he’ll pay to get the girl?
We hope you will welcome our new family with open arms, as you always do. Attached is a cast list to help you get acquainted with them all. They start rehearsals in East London at the end ofJanuary and will be rehearsing in the theatre from February 12th, ready to open on April 1st.
Sad to say goodbye to such a successful run ofGone With The Windbut we’re all very excited here in the office about this new production and hope you are too.
Kind Regards,
Susie Quentin
Toastie Productions Ltd
He sits backin his chair, his breaths coming fast and quick. It’s only when his gaze settles on the pair of eyes looking out at him from the photo on his desk that he calms down.
‘Oh, darling. I wonder what you’ll make of this.’ He picks up the frame and looks at the glint of mischief in her eyes. ‘You’ve caused havoc for the shows you do like and pure hell for the ones you don’t. What will you dowhen you’re watching someone else play Eliza? Not to mention when they survive each performance?’ His desk lamp flickers. ‘Come now. You have to play nice.When The Curtain Fallsis a good show. All casts are family but this one more so because this isyourshow. OK?’ His desk lamp flickers again. ‘Oh, sweetheart.’ He clicks on the attachment in the email and scrolls down to find the face of theactress who is destined to play Eliza.
‘Olive Green.’ The lamp turns off with a loud clunk. ‘I have a feeling you may be sorry you ever said yes.’
