Thingswould be different from today.The Tube began its groaning, hissingslide to a halt at the Barbican.From today he would be Romeo, whohad no notion of Eastern European gang cultures or vengeful demonsfrom the mahala.Romeo—making the moony, self-centred git loveabledespite his weaknesses, or maybe because of them—would be anall-consuming task.Sasha would go back and forth to his GuidanceCouncil job in perfect safety, just as he always had, and the worldwould feel normal again.The umbrella handle made a last assault onhis balls with the forces of deceleration, and the old lady turnedand glared at him by way of thanks for his guardianship.He noddedand smiled in return, and squeezed his way off with the exitingcrowd onto the platform.
He wasin no hurry.He liked to savour the last hour before an importantrehearsal.The certainty of work, of a role that would transformhim, freed him up to enjoy being himself, and he fell into anamble.The platform was open to the rainy June sky.Victorianrailway arches lifted their heads to meet the ugly, intriguingcontrast of the Brutalist Barbican estate flats that towered abovethem.The crowd quickly thinned, leaving him behind.
A handclosed on his elbow.He whipped around.His swordfighting classeshad left his reflexes raw and sabre-sharp: his evasive step tookhim out of range of the grey hooded figure and any blades thebastard might be carrying.“All right.What the hell do youwant?”
The greyhood went back.Beneath it was a kid of about Clara’s age,wide-eyed with fear at the effect she’d produced.“Are you...Areyou Laurence Fitzroy?”
Laurieexpelled a breath.Great.Yes, he was ready for anything, wasn’the, provided it was a sixteenth-century duel on the streets ofVerona.“I’m so sorry,” he said.“Yes, I am.”
The kid brightened.“I knew it.My mum said I shouldn’t followactors around on my own, but you weresogood inAll’s Well, and then I saw you asTeddy inFlare Pathbefore that, and I knew the rehearsals for R and J werestarting this week, so when I saw you on the Tube...”
Laurie let her rattle on, tuning her out while he signedtheAll’s Wellprogramme she produced, then a T-shirt, then a carefullyprepared page in a notebook.To my friendAlexandrina, with love from....She wassweet, but hearing his talents extolled by a fanatic pre-teen wasawkward.Hardly his target audience.“There you go,” he said, whenshe was beaming and clutching her treasures.“Your ma’s right,though.Don’t follow strange men on your own.Follow them in ascreaming pack like a normal kid, then I guarantee you’ll be safe.Are you meeting someone here?”
“My summer-school acting coach, up in the Frobisher rooms.“
Laurielooked at the empty platform, lonely now between trains.The longstretches of walkway and corridor that separated this scrap fromher destination.He sighed, then held out his arm.“May I have thepleasure of escorting you?”Her jaw dropped, and after a second’shesitation she shot out a hand and grabbed him ferociously.Theyset off, Laurie wondering if he’d ever get his circulation back.“Fancy treading the boards, then, Alexandrina?”
“Oh, yes.It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”She pulled a face.“Iwish I had a different name, though.Nobody called Alexandrina evermade it.”
“It’s a bit quaint for a megastar, perhaps.Can’t you changeit?”
“My ma would never forgive me.”
“How would she feel if you shortened it?Sandrinehas a bit of aring.”
“Sandrine...”She rolled the name around, repeated it loudenough to bounce off the arches on the far side of the tracks.“Sandrine Fulton!Oh, that’s wonderful.”Then she sobered.“I’msure I’ll never get to use it, though.I’ll never be anything likeyou.”
Lauriewatched her.She was bursting with pride at the dubious honour ofbeing on his arm, but her real focus was inward, trying out her newstage name in a variety of flattering, spotlit scenes.“I wouldn’tworry,” he said wryly, leading her up the stairs.“I should thinkyou’ll do okay.”
***
Hedropped Sandrine Fulton off at the fourth-floor Frobisher rooms,and made his way to the lifts slowly enough—just—for her to dragall her friends out to see who had brought her.The lift doorsclosed, and he forgot her with fugal totality.It was time for himto change.
Sir Ralfwas rehearsing his actors in Barbican One, setting them to workfrom the very beginning in the arena where their final masterpiecewould take place.He forbade all outside interference—no touristparties wandering through, no smaller productions using the spaceafter hours.This cost the theatre a good deal in PR and rent, butSir Ralf was Sir Ralf, and until he deemed otherwise, Barbican Onewas Verona.
Lauriestepped into the narrow, cobbled alleyways.There was carpetunderfoot, but that was irrelevant, as was the security deskoutside the stage door and the overarching roof with itsstate-of-the-art lighting and acoustics to die for.Under themaddening Italian sun, some Montagues and Capulets were trying outtheir paces on the broad, beautiful stage.A hell of a space tofill, but by the time he’d padded down the aisle as far as row F,Laurie had no fears of it.No more concerns than if it had been thetown square, or Juliet’s garden, or the terrible churchyard wherehe was destined to lose faith too soon and destroy her in theprocess.He smiled.He couldn’t wait.
Therewas Sir Ralf, looking uncharacteristically harried.He was inconsultation with a burly, bald-headed man Laurie at first didn’trecognise, his mind now expecting only players and themagicians—directors, stagehands, costumers—who brought the play tolife.“Arnie,” he said faintly, the sweet Verona world becomingbricks and mortar around him, just another theatre.“What are youdoing here?”
Arnieand Sir Ralf turned to face him.“Oh,” Ralf said in a mix ofapprehension and relief.“Laurence.I’m glad you’re here, dear boy.You see, there’s really nobody I’d rather have to lead my cast thanyou, but when you auditioned...”He paused to run his hands overhis short crop of white hair.“Well, there was no talk of riders,or salary, or the kinds of contract terms Mr Hamlin here wants toput into place.I think you know my reputation well enough to besure that I treat my actors generously.And my people will draw upyour contract, but...”
Laurieheld out a hand to him.It was very courteous, because no-one toldSir Ralf to talk to the palm, but it was effective.Laurie feltstrange—scared and relieved at the same time, as if he’d justgained permission to unleash a dangerous animal.His spinestraightened.Arnie, who normally met his gaze from an equalheight, seemed to be looking up at him.Arnie’s eyes were suddenlyfearful.“I’m sorry, Sir Ralf,” Laurie said, his voice soft inproportion with the beast’s potential roar.“Mr Hamlin is herebecause I took this role without consulting him, and I can onlyassume he’s now attempting to restore his ego and his whollyimagined ownership of me.The contract terms are fine.And by theway, Arnold, you’re fired.”
Arnoldgaped.“Laurie, don’t be ridiculous.Is this because of Sunday?That business with Alison?Surely not my gaffe with that old pansyat the Queen’s.”
“No, though that didn’t do you any favours.It’s because you’rehere now, endangering this part you didn’t help me get.”
“I’m protecting your interests.”His expression altered, lostits usual bluff mask.“Believe it or not, that’s what I’ve alwaystried to do.You’re starting to fly pretty high, Laurie—maybehigher than someone like me has a right to expect— but you didn’tget there on your own.Are you forgetting that?”
“Not for one second do I forget the people who’ve really helpedme.”
“Ouch.Okay.”Arnie tried to smile, a ghastly effort which putsweat on his brow.“That hurt.But that’s okay, isn’t it?I’venever minded the odd jab from you.I’m tough.Surely we can worksomething out.”
“Sure.You can go back thirty years or so and work out whatturned you into someone who winces when I kiss my boyfriend.Untilthen, I’d be grateful if you’d just leave me alone.”
Arnietook a couple of backward steps.He bumped into the end of a row ofseats, turned round and stumbled away.
SirRalf, who had stood clear for this exchange, watched his departurewith some interest.“That was probably very satisfying, wasn’tit?”
