When the Curtain Falls

by Carrie Hope Fletcher

  ‘This way!’ Olive opened a door and a new metal spiral staircase was revealed which she nimbly descended. It was so narrow, Oscar began to feel a little claustrophobic, but it was only around ten steps before they were met with another dressing room door.

  ‘Where on earth is this place?’

  ‘Narnia.’

  ‘Ha ha.’ He rolled his eyes, but her expression didn’t change.

  ‘No, I mean… we call it Narnia. It’s so out of the way from all the other rooms. And that over there,’ Olive pointed to the dark space behind them, ‘is costume storage.’

  ‘So they’re in the dressing room behind all the old coats…’

  ‘Narnia!’ She smiled.

  ‘Oh… okay. Well, check with Doug and —’

  ‘DOUG!’ BANG BANG BANG. Olive’s subtlety seemed to have disappeared along with her clothes.

  ‘Jesus H Christ, Green.’ The door opened to reveal the three ensemble boys in varying states of undress. Doug hopped over a pair of shoes lying in the middle of the floor and came to the door. ‘Nice gown.’

  ‘Well, it’s all I’ve got, thanks to you!’ Olive hopped from foot to foot on the cold stone floor.

  ‘What are you on about?’ Doug was topless and only now did Oscar realise just how much the other man clearly worked out. Suddenly Oscar was holding his previously opened shirt closed.

  ‘My clothes?’

  ‘Your clothes?’ Doug said in a high-pitched voice with his face all screwed up.

  ‘Doug!’ She slipped her arm through the gap in the door and poked him in the ribs. ‘As much as I love my birthday suit, I paid a lot of money for that dress and I’d quite like to wear it tonight!’

  ‘Babe…’ he said and Oscar felt a strange twinge in his chest upon hearing the affection in Doug’s voice, ‘I don’t have your clothes. They aren’t in D14. But Jane said something about her pearl necklace going missing too.’

  ‘D14?’ Oscar asked and they both pointed at the gold numbers on Doug’s dressing room door. ‘Ah. Gotcha.’

  ‘Keep up, TV!’ said Doug as he closed the door. ‘SEE YOU AT THE PARTY!’ he yelled.

  ‘Urgh. That boy. I love him, but he drives me up the wall.’

  ‘You love him?’ Oscar mumbled, and Olive turned sharply on the stairs.

  ‘You kissed Tamara?’

  ‘Ouch. Touché.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Olive turned to grab the handrail but as she touched it expecting to feel cold metal, her hand was cushioned by a sock. One of her socks.

  ‘Erm… what the hell?’ She held it up for Oscar to see.

  ‘Are you sure it wasn’t there before?’

  ‘A hundred per cent.’ Olive ran up the stairs as quickly as she could, and found her knickers lying by the double doors that led to the stage. She quickly picked them up and stuffed them in her dressing gown pocket before Oscar joined her. She peered through the little window in the door and, although it was dark, she could just make out her leggings in a bundle in the wing.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ she held the door open for Oscar and started to follow the trail of clothes. Her casual dress was draped over a rung in the ladder that led to the fly floor and as she looked up, she saw another one of her socks, her coat and just out of sight on the walkway, she could see the diamante from her dress glittering in what little light was left in the wing.

  ‘Is that your dress?’ Oscar asked, following her gaze.

  ‘Yup,’ she sighed. ‘That is my dress.’

  ‘Someone’s obviously just trying to be clever.’

  ‘Well, if it’s not Doug then it’s probably your new girlfriend,’ Olive said. She felt bad every time she snapped at him, but it was almost involuntary now. In the time it took her brain to decide if the thought was worth vocalising, her mouth was already spewing it out. She felt he deserved to hear how she was feeling but she worried that she was only pushing him further away, and seeing as she hadn’t yet decided how close she wanted to keep him, this wasn’t ideal.

  ‘Out the way,’ he said, gently pulling her back by the shoulders.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Out the way!’ Oscar started to climb the ladder, up, into the darkness of the fly floor.

  ‘Oscar!’ she whispered. ‘You’re not supposed to go up there!’

  ‘And neither was the person who put your dress up here! Just keep an eye out!’ Olive’s skin prickled, and her body fizzed with a mixture of nervousness and a strange excitement that she’d not felt since she was playing pranks on her teachers back at school with Lou.

  ‘You’re gonna get in trouble!’ she hissed, now only able to properly see his feet, the rest of him a merely a silhouette.

  ‘And what are they gonna do? Fire me right after opening night? I’ll be like, five seconds!’ Oscar carefully climbed the peeling ladder, black paint chips coming off on his hands. He looked down to wipe his cold palms on his trousers and when he looked back up towards the dress, he could have sworn it was a little further along than it had previously just been. He scrambled up a little faster and hopped down from the ladder onto the metal grid.

  ‘Hello?’ Oscar called out.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he heard Olive whisper.

  ‘Anyone there?’ The dress was in a silver sparkling crumpled heap on the floor. Oscar took a step towards it and this time he noticed it definitely moved an inch further away.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ He jumped back.

  ‘Oscar! This isn’t funny! Hurry up!’ Olive said, her voice a little louder now.

  ‘Just a minute!’ he whispered back to Olive as he took another step towards the dress, only to see it move a little further away from him again. He took two steps forwards and the dress moved again. Oscar straightened himself up.

  ‘It’s probably just a mouse under there. Nothing spooky. No… ghosts. There’s no such thing as ghosts, they don’t exist.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Just a mouse,’ and he walked towards the dress without stopping. Just as he knelt to pick it up, the fabric swirled up in front of him, the bust filled out, the waist cinched in and the silk around the hips billowed and floated as though the dress was suspended underwater.

  ‘What in the —’

  Osssssscccaaaaarrrr

  A tingle rippled over Oscar’s skin. He looked up, hoping to see the faces of his cast mates, jeering at him. He wanted to find wires or some sort of trickery. Otherwise, he was sure his own sanity was at stake.

  ‘Olive? Is this you? Is this some kind of joke?’ He tried to scoff.

  ‘Oscar? What’s going on? Please don’t make me climb that death trap of a ladder!’ Olive’s voice was still far away, yet solid and warm. The voice he’d heard call out his name seemed hollow and whispered and yet close enough to make every hair follicle on his body prickle.

  ‘Who’s there? This isn’t funny any more.’ Oscar said in a hushed tone. There was a crackling noise, like the sound of a distant firework, and little warm, yellow flames burst into the air before him, enveloping the dress. They fizzled and came together and slowly, the outline of a woman formed within the dress. She appeared to be made up of fire, hissing and burning, causing smoke to rise from her shoulders and the loose ends of her pinned-up hair. Oscar could see clean through her, but her face looked soft and felt so familiar that Oscar’s feeling of fear crackled itself. He went to ask her who she was, or rather, what she was, but the woman raised a finger to her flaming lips and as she shushed him, black smoke billowed out of her mouth. In quick and fluid motions, the woman whipped her finger through the air and behind it she left a trail of warm sparkling light that lingered for a moment before it disappeared. She wrote one word quickly before it fizzled out: DANGER.

  ‘Danger?’ Oscar whispered, trying to be soothing through his terror. ‘What danger? Who?’ Again, the woman’s hands moved quickly but this time as she wrote Oscar’s heart thumped a little bit harder as he read each of the letters. OLIVE.

  ‘Olive? Why? Why is she in danger? What kind of trick is
this?’

  GET HELP

  ‘From who? What are you talking about?’

  WALTER

  ‘Walter? Who the hell is Walter?’ The woman’s eyes flared, and Oscar’s dissipating fear quickly returned, burning hotter than the woman’s skin. ‘The stage door guy?’

  She nodded vigorously, her skin crackling louder.

  HE’S COMING FOR HER

  The woman rose a flaming hand and her fingers fizzled in the direction of the wooden plaque on the wall. Oscar backtracked a couple of steps so he could get a better look and there in the glass was nothing but his own reflection. The revolver was gone.

  ‘Oscar!’ Olive called from below, and before he could ask the woman anything else, she went up in smoke and the dress fell to the floor, back into a crumpled heap. Oscar picked it up, dusted it off and checked it over. No wires, no strings, nothing out of the ordinary. It was just a dress that now smelled faintly of smoke.

  ‘What took you a million years?’ Olive asked when he finally returned back to the wing, her arms hugged tightly around her.

  ‘Nothing. Here’s your dress.’ He handed it to her by the straps, hoping it didn’t look too creased but instantly she sniffed the fabric.

  ‘Were you smoking up there? Is that what took you so long?’

  ‘What? No of course not! What makes you say that?’ he asked, opening the door into the corridor, wanting to get away from the stage as quickly as possible.

  ‘This stinks of smoke,’ she said, still clutching it to her nose.

  ‘Then I’ll go to wardrobe and grab some Febreze or something.’

  ‘Oscar,’ she caught him by the arm before he could bolt up the stairs, ‘is everything okay? You went up that ladder as Oscar and now you’ve come down as… I don’t know, some sort of zombie version of him.’

  ‘No, I’m fine, honestly. It was just a bit… spooky up there, that’s all.’ He shrugged and carried on walking, but Olive skittered up beside him.

  ‘Ohhh, coming from the man that was so offended at the idea of anyone believing in ghosts!’

  ‘I wasn’t offended! And whether they exist or not, theatres are creepy!’ A shiver ran through him at the thought of the woman calling his name.

  ‘Oscar believes in ghosts! Oscar believes in ghosts!’ Olive chanted, but as they walked back to their dressing rooms together a new sense of dread loomed over Oscar like the smoke that had billowed from the woman’s mouth.

  15

  Something Wicked This Way Comes

  ‘Olive, my love! You did splendidly!’ Michael squeezed Olive’s shoulders so hard her back cracked in at least three places. The after-show party was being held in the front of house bar which, when overcrowded, was…

  ‘Hotter than satan’s arsehole in here!’ said Howard, joining them. ‘Where’s the bar?’

  ‘Over there, Howard.’ Michael pointed the way whilst watching the beads of sweat drip down Howard’s cheek.

  ‘Is it free?’ Howard whispered to Olive out the side of his mouth.

  ‘As a bird!’ she laughed.

  ‘See ya!’

  ‘Honestly, Olive. You really shone!’ Michael said, taking her hands.

  ‘Wow.’ Olive felt like her smile might burst through her cheeks. ‘Thank you, Michael. Can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow!’

  ‘And another six times after that!’ Oscar said, as he appeared behind her, placing his palm on the small of her back instinctively. When she didn’t pull away and instead looked up at him with a smile, he didn’t move it, and even went as far as rubbing his thumb in circles on the skin of her bare back.

  ‘That dress looks amazing on you,’ he whispered.

  ‘Tamara not with you?’ Olive asked, taking a glass of champagne from a full tray as it passed her.

  ‘Please don’t do that,’ Oscar replied, taking a glass for himself.

  ‘I need to. Just for a little while,’ Olive took a large sip of her drink which half emptied the glass.

  ‘Need to what? Make me feel bad?’

  ‘Be angry. I need to be angry for a little while longer before I can… be anything else.’

  ‘I’m just —’

  ‘I know, I know you’re sorry.’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ She raised her eyebrow at him as she waited for him to continue. ‘I mean I am sorry, it’s just… I’m mainly tired of us being against each other.’ Oscar looked away from her and took a large gulp of his own drink. ‘I don’t know how much more I can take of feeling like you hate me. Well… like everyone hates me.’ Olive tried hard to squash down the urge to wrap her arms around him.

  ‘No one hates you, Oscar. In fact, the few people I’ve spoken to about this whole mess seem to understand you better than I do.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ he said, guiding her gently away from the doorway as more people arrived. Everyone was suddenly too close for comfort as the conversation erupted and people roared their congratulations. Olive pointed to a little a space in the corner by the bar and when her hand found his, Oscar let out a shaky breath and Olive couldn’t help but squeeze his fingers.

  ‘Everyone’s rooting for us,’ Olive said as she put her empty glass on the bar. ‘Ever since that fan tweeted that picture of us online, everyone’s been rooting for us. Look at us right now! Huddled in a corner, holding hands and if you get any closer to me our faces will be touching,’ she said, brushing the tip of her nose against his and revelling in the fact he didn’t pull away.

  ‘Yeah, I guess, even before the picture, we weren’t as subtle as we thought.’ He smiled, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers.

  ‘Of course we haven’t. And even if nothing was going on between us, people like to talk anyway.’ They both took a moment to glance about the room at their fellow cast mates and although no one was directly watching them, they both got the sense that everyone had noticed them, but had purposely decided to leave them alone. ‘They all want us to figure things out. They think we’re good together.’

  ‘We’re not together, though…’ Oscar said and finally he pulled away like Olive had been anticipating.

  ‘Oh, Jesus Christ, will you take a day off?’ she snapped. ‘I know we’re not together, and I’m okay with that, but do you have to keep reminding me?’ She reached for another glass of champagne from the cluster of filled glasses behind her on the bar. ‘I meant “together” in as much as we’re together now. In the same vicinity. Spending time with each other. We make a good team, is all that I meant.’ She looked away from him, her cheeks burning with the rush of annoyance and alcohol mixing in her blood.

  ‘For someone who says they’re okay with it, you don’t seem too okay with it,’ Oscar said, brushing her arm with his thumb, trying not to lose contact with her.

  ‘It’s just… difficult. Being with someone but not actually “being with them” takes its toll on your mind. Especially when it’s their choice and you’d love it to be different.’

  ‘Oh,’ Oscar said, rubbing his temples. ‘But you know I can’t —’

  ‘Oscar, if I hear you say that you can’t be in a relationship one more time I’m going to carve the word “relationship” into a wooden plank and beat you over the head with it.’ Olive took another long sip of her drink.

  ‘Wow. You’re really not okay with it.’ Oscar didn’t know whether to laugh or apologise.

  ‘Who would be?’ She gestured to the people in the room, ‘You show me a girl who would be okay with a guy who treats her exactly like she’s his girlfriend but won’t actually call her his girlfriend? It’s madness. It makes no sense.’

  ‘I know. I know it doesn’t and I’m sorry. I didn’t count on liking you so much but that doesn’t change the fact that I just can’t commit to anything right now and —’

  ‘AGH, AGH, AGH! Shush! I get it! I understand! But just because I understand, it doesn’t mean I’m okay with it and just because I’m not okay with it doesn’t mean I’m going to bail on it. This is too
good for that.’

  ‘We’re too good for that,’ he said.

  ‘And he finally gets the hang of it!’

  ‘I’m guessing kissing you right now would be out of the question?’ Oscar asked, fiddling with her fingers, and Olive’s heart almost leapt out of her mouth and into his.

  ‘Says the man who abandoned me when even the slightest hint of what was happening between us escaped onto the internet. There’s press at this party. It might happen again.’