‘You can say that again, Laura my dear. Am I not right in thinking the Theatre Royal in Dumfries used to be called the Electric Theatre when it was a cinema and was reputed to have ghosts?’
‘I believe it was. It never occurred to me when I mentioned about the possibility of using the theatre for rehearsals. A theatre of ghosts is not the best tonic for someone inflicted with a mummy’s curse.’
‘You can be sure of that,’ said Giles as he lifted his glass. ‘A theatre of ghosts won’t be as pleasurable a tonic as the one I’m enjoying with my gin.’
Chapter 9
THE ELECTRIC THEATRE
When the month of November creeps in to the rolling hills of Dumfries-shire winter is never far behind but that is the time of year when the Theatre Royal, in the town of Dumfries, comes alive. The year of 1967 was no different and when Laura made the phone call to the Guild of Players they were deeply involved with Henrik Ibsen’s play The Master Builder. Nevertheless they were prepared to meet with her and the authors of The Cinderella Murders to discuss possible arrangements for the use of the theatre for rehearsals as they were always glad to assist other groups with their productions.
An afternoon meeting was arranged and Laura made contact with the playwrights with details of date, time and place. Giles was keen to be there to give the stage the once over in order to be satisfied his illusions could be correctly staged.
On Wednesday the first of November, Laura wasted no time at all and contacted the Guild of Players by phone to arrange a meeting with them. When it was agreed that the Guild would see them that same afternoon at 3 o’clock she was quickly in touch with the two playwrights who were only a few miles away in Carlisle after the previous evening’s demonstration of the Artist’s Dream illusion.
She and Giles met with Mark and Walter outside the Theatre Royal, in Shakespeare Street. They were greeted by three members of the Guild of Players who took them to the side entrance of the theatre and into the building that Giles had visited in the years before the war – the building he’d known as the Electric Theatre, a cinema where he’d watched cowboy movies. Now he was set to present stage illusions for a theatre group.
Before being shown the stage they were taken to the Green Room of the theatre for a cup of tea and a chat as to what was required. It was explained to them that as the Guild was in production of the Ibsen play and would be heavily involved with further plays throughout the next months before completing its programme with The Second Mrs Tanqueray in March, the theatre and stage would not be available until April next year. But they’d be welcome to have the use of the place if they could wait until that time.
Having agreed it was better late than never, a tour of the building began with a visit to the basement where flats, props, wardrobe and decor had storage space.
While being shown the room where the stage props were stored one of the senior members of the Guild, suddenly had a thought and asked Mark exactly what timescale was required for rehearsals as there were a few days that could be spared before the Ibsen play got underway. When told that four or five days might be enough Alexander, the senior Guild member, said if rehearsals could be started immediately the remainder of that week could be used before the Guild would want the stage set for The Master Builder.
That was enough for Mark and Walter to make a quick decision. They would get the cast, who would have already learned their lines, to assemble at the theatre first thing on the morning of Thursday, 2nd November with the likelihood of completing rehearsals in not more than four days.
Walter asked Alexander if they could hire the use of the theatre all day and was told – yes all day and all night if required.
‘What about props, costumes, etc.?’ asked Walter, eager to get as much information as possible.
‘Yes, but only if a member of the Guild of Players was there to check if items were not required for a forthcoming play.’
Using the stairs the group moved to the stage where the playwrights were impressed with the size of the area and Giles was delighted with the trapdoor which he could make use of for one of the illusions.
On one side of the auditorium the bust of Robert Burns, who was involved in the raising of subscriptions for a purpose-built theatre around 1790, gazed on a seating capacity that originally was between five and six hundred and had, less than a hundred years later, been increased to over a thousand.
The group toured the stairs leading to dressing rooms and everywhere they went Giles could sense a feeling of eerie silence intermittently peppered by strange noises. He was instantly aware that the theatre was generally a draughty place and that could be the reason for the movement of curtains and could also create strange sounds. Stairs were creaky and uneven, capable of causing feelings of disorientation. The place was dusty and the upstairs dressing rooms were bitterly cold. To the left of the stage there were ropes hanging presumably to change flats etc., but strangers to the part of a theatre behind the proscenium might find snarled ropes menacing and sinister. Giles couldn’t help thinking that this historic theatre with its spooky atmosphere and strange noises could have a mischievous effect on the unwary. This was something he didn’t wish to bring to the attention of Mark for obvious reasons, but when he had the opportunity to speak alone with Joyce, the Guild member who had kindly agreed to be present throughout the rehearsals to provide any help required, he mentioned the noises. He was informed that on many occasions knocking was heard at the stage door which, when opened, revealed no one was there.
After terms were agreed about the use of the theatre Mark and Walter left to start arranging the production of sets for their rehearsals and to get in touch with the cast. They were confident everything and everyone would be there in the morning. As there were ten key holders for the theatre someone would be there to open the place for them. Giles and Laura stayed a little while longer with the Guild members as Giles wanted to explain about Mark’s problem.
‘He really believes he has a curse?’ said Alexander of the Guild. ‘If so I think he may be in for a shock.’
‘Our delightful theatre is rather renowned for its ghosts.’ declared a youthful Joyce. ‘Every theatre has its ghosts but in our case I believe we stand supreme,’ she said with a playful smile on her face.
Before each play went into production the Theatre Royal in Dumfries, was always a hive of activity. The day following that meeting with members of the Guild of Players, the owners of the theatre, was no different. Mark and Walter had managed to assemble every member of their cast and they were now busy setting up the stage with French windows, a fireplace, a bookcase filled with books, and several little tables.
Props such as table lamps, artificial flowers, a sofa and a couple of doors were kindly supplied by the Guild while Giles brought along the accoutrements required for his illusions including a framed painting of Jane he’d designed for use in the scene when the Fairy Godmother would appear.
Within two hours the stage was set and midway through that first morning the playwrights gathered their cast together on stage to explain what they wanted.
‘First of all I’ll go over the blocking so that you all know the settings and moves of all the actors before we start rehearsing. I then want to go over specific sections I think might require brushing up,’ said Mark. ‘These sections are particularly important and we must get them to our complete satisfaction before we attempt a run-through of each scene. We’ll spend all day and all night, if necessary.’
‘That’s really up to you all,’ Walter added. ‘We have a lot to do in a fairly short time so you must all give of your best.’
The Kelly twins and Marlene were to be the first ones to rehearse the scene in which one of the twins gets shot. The young lads who were in their early twenties playing the step-sons Dicky and Cyril, along with Marlene who was in the role of Cindy were to remain on stage. All the others should retire until required.
Cindy was given the small pistol and told to hide it somewhere in her clothing.
The
two playwrights went to sit in the front row of the auditorium and called for silence in the theatre. When all was ready they gave the step-sons the nod to start speaking their lines.
‘Still here my poor little beauty?’ Cyril said. ‘Gagging for it aren’t you?’
‘She wouldn’t still be here otherwise would she? Come to Dicky, I’ll soon tame you my little wench.’
Walter nodded as he heard the words spoken with conviction by Dicky.
‘No! I won the toss and I can handle things my way,’ Cyril said, his diction quite impressive. ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you,’ he bellowed at Cindy, who had lowered her head. He gave the impression he was ready to move towards her.
Raising her head Cindy immediately and abruptly faced him giving a vivid portrayal of someone shaking with fear but determined to retaliate. ‘Take one step nearer and I’ll kill you,’ she said.
‘Stop right there,’ said Mark, starting to clap his hands. ‘So far so good!’
‘I totally agree,’ echoed Walter. ‘but we now come to the crucial part. The shooting of Cyril by Cindy. I want to be dazzled by the surprising appearance of the gun and the credible collapse of the victim. We’ll start from Cyril’s lines after Cindy says I’ll kill you.’
‘Hmm! Got some spirit have we? I like that in a woman,’ Cyril said, sniggering. ‘And how do you propose to kill me little one? Got a pistol in your bra?’
As he started to move towards Cindy the silence in the theatre was shattered as the gun was fired. Cyril reeled back and slithered to the floor clasping his chest theatrically. Both Mark and Walter, who’d failed to notice how the gun had been produced, could now see the gun was in Cindy’s hand as Dicky knelt down to assist his brother.
As both men got to their feet Mark and Walter went up the short steps to the front of the stage. ‘Not good enough,’ said a ruffled Walter. ‘Pity to spoil such a promising beginning.’
‘It was the final part that lacked authenticity,’ Mark joined in. ‘the production of the gun was magnificent. Neither of us saw where it came from. Full marks to our magician for his coaching of Cindy.’
‘I wonder if his magic can produce an equivalent response from Cyril,’ quipped Walter. ‘Or is that something that isn’t possible even for a magician?’
‘As I’ve told you several times,’ Mark said as he wagged a finger at his nephew, ‘the art of dying on stage is a prerequisite of a consummate actor. It must convince an audience otherwise it becomes ludicrous.’
‘And that performance was hilarious,’ Walter said. ‘For heaven’s sake this is a serious thriller. It’s not a comedy. How an experienced actor can botch up such a straightforward scene is beyond me. I wonder if we can hire someone from the Guild of Players to coach you. The only other alternative is to shoot you myself but I suppose you’d mess that up too!’
Cyril threw him a contemptuous look and mumbled an aggressive retort which Walter smothered with a bellow to the cast to resume the rehearsal.
They went over it several more times but without significant improvement and after each attempt Walter got more and more exasperated. He was rapidly losing patience and Mark finally had to step in and call a break to allow everyone to cool down.
It was during this break, when a light lunch was available in the Green Room that Mark decided to wander in search of a Guild member who might contact one of their competent actors who’d be able to give his nephew some instruction about how to die realistically on stage. He was passing the ladies’ dressing room when he heard girls’ voices. He knocked on the door but there was no reply. He knocked again. ‘Anyone there?’ he called out and opened the door a fraction. The voices stopped and he went inside. The place was empty. There was no one in the room. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He turned and closed the door. His face was drained of any colour as he shuffled his way back to the Green Room. He was shocked as if by an electric current. There was little if any doubt the theatre he was in had been and still was, The Electric Theatre.
Chapter 10
THOSE VOICES AGAIN
‘You look a little pale, Mark,’ Walter said when he saw the shocked look on the face of the giant of a man as he came back into the Green Room. ‘You mustn’t let your nephew’s deplorable attempt as the dying swan upset you. We’ll sort it out. But my god you look as if you’ve just seen a ghost!’
Slumping like a sack of potatoes Mark sat down and with quivering lips he spluttered. ‘That’s just the trouble. I didn’t see anything. There was no one there!’
The sudden indrawn breath from the other members of the cast was palpable.
‘Pull yourself together, Mark. You’re not making any sense.’
‘It made no sense to me either. No sense at all,’ Mark said, his panic-stricken eyes staring, as he stumbled over his words. ‘I heard them as clear as I’m hearing you now but when I went in…!’
‘Went in? Went in where?’
The shuddering colossus froze, looking totally bewildered, before he answered. ‘It was the ladies’ dressing room. That’s where it was.’
‘You went into the ladies’ dressing room? For goodness sake, Mark. What the hell were you doing?’
‘I wasn’t doing anything,’ Mark snarled back as if resenting any innuendo. ‘I was looking for Joyce to ask about getting someone to coach Cyril.’ He shook his head in despair. ‘Can’t even collapse properly. Some actor!’
‘So you thought you’d found someone when you heard… what?’
‘I heard girls’ voices coming from the ladies’ dressing room. I knocked and when there was no reply I went in.’
‘And?’
‘The place was empty. There was nobody in the room.’ Mark started to shake violently and his breathing came in spasms.
‘Where are your pills Mark?’
‘Let me get you a glass of water,’ Jane said, playing her role as the Fairy Godmother as she came over.
Mark nodded gently and reached inside his jacket for his pills. His trembling fingers jiggled so badly that he was unable to open the little box until the Fairy Godmother returned with the glass which she handed to him then gently took the box and opened it for him.
‘Is there anything wrong?’ Giles asked Walter as he approached Mark who was slumped in his seat. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I wondered if there was anything Laura and I could do to help.’
‘I’m afraid Mark’s been hallucinating,’ Walter said quietly. ‘He’s been hearing voices. Another extension of his belief in that curse I expect. I think all we can do is to immediately get involved again with our rehearsals.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Giles. ‘Becoming immersed in this play will get him focussed on the job in hand and take his mind off the supernatural.’
With a nod of acquiescence Walter turned and clapped his hands. ‘Okay everyone let’s go on stage and pick it up from Grizelda’s entrance at the French windows in Act 1 Scene 1. It’s her first entrance where she remonstrates with Cindy about getting something done in the kitchen in preparation for her two boys, Cyril and Dicky coming in from the tennis court. I want a terse and nasty Grizelda and when the two boys enter they must appear ready to stir things up. Let’s get into the characters and we’ll soon find things will begin to gel.’
Regaining some of his composure Mark got to his feet, a little unsteadily, but the faintest smile broke out as the colour came back to his features. ‘Marlene,’ he said, ‘Go down to the basement props room and if possible find a couple of jugs. The kind of jugs that hold beer you understand.’
‘A cup, saucer and tray would also be useful,’ added Walter. ‘We’ll need those later for the scene where Grizelda is being poisoned. And by the way, be careful when you’re down there. The stairs are narrow and the basement is dark with lots of clutter.’ Walter leaned ever closer to Marlene. ‘Be very careful,’ he said in a stage whisper, ‘or you might bump into something down there you wouldn’t care to find.’
Marlene threw him a
look of disdain as she left to go downstairs to the basement. The others traipsed upstairs to the stage, while the playwrights had a discussion with the three actors playing Grizelda, Cyril and Dicky as they waited for Marlene to return from the basement. However, as the minutes ticked away there was some concern at the non-appearance of their leading lady and Walter kept looking at his watch.
‘Perhaps she can’t find the props we asked for,’ Mark said. ‘Maybe one of us should go down and…!’ He never finished the sentence as an almighty bang made everyone jump. Seconds later Marlene came back on stage out of breath and looking scared out of her wits.
‘What on earth happened?’ Mark enquired, his wrinkled forehead showing apprehension. We were worried about you.’
‘I couldn’t find what you wanted. It was dark. One of the lights wasn’t working and the place was filled with all kind of props. When I was about to lay my hands on the very things you wanted I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I thought someone was coming down to help me when suddenly there was this bang. It was so loud I’m sure you must’ve heard it. Then I heard sounds. Strange sounds.’
‘Sounds? What kind of sounds?’
‘Sounds like crying and laughing. It was unnerving. I couldn’t’ get out of there fast enough.’
‘This has just about gone far enough,’ said Walter, his voice tight with anger. ‘We’ve been in this old building for only a few hours and already my co-playwright and leading lady have heard voices. For God’s sake can we please get back to doing what we’re here for?’
At that point all the heads of those on stage turned as footsteps could clearly be heard coming from the stairs. There was a brief but electric moment of uneasiness until a head appeared.
‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your rehearsal,’ said the little man doffing his cloth cap, ‘I’m Robbie from the stage door. The loud bang that I’m sure you must’ve heard a moment ago came from the basement. I was told to warn you that there is a compressor down there that sometimes goes off for no reason at all and sounds can be heard after the bang. Sounds like voices. I was meaning to tell you but I forgot. I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t alarmed, about the bang I mean and those bloody voices.’ He shook his head. ‘We get used to it here, but it takes a wee while for some folks.’
The Cinderella Murders Page 7