‘Who are you?’ Hammersmith demanded.
‘Richard Walden Lichfield.’
‘I’m none the wiser.’
‘I used to be a trustee of the Elysium.’
‘Oh.’
‘I make it my business —, ‘What do you want?’ Hammersmith broke in, irritated by Lichfield’s poise.
‘I hear the production is in jeopardy,’ Lichfield replied, unruffled.
‘No jeopardy,’ said Hammersmith, allowing himself a twitch at the corner of his mouth. ‘No jeopardy at all, because there’s no show. It’s been cancelled.’
‘Oh?’ Lichfield looked at Galloway.
‘Is this with your consent?’ he asked.
‘He has no say in the matter; I have sole right of cancellation if circumstances dictate it; it’s in his contract. The theatre is closed as of today: it will not reopen.’
‘Yes it will,’ said Lichfield.
‘What?’ Hammersmith stood up behind his desk, and Galloway realized he’d never seen the man standing before. He was very short.
‘We will play Twelfth Night as advertised,’ Lichfield purred. ‘My wife has kindly agreed to understudy the part of Viola in place of Miss Duvall.’
Hammersmith laughed, a coarse, butcher’s laugh. It died on his lips however, as the office was suffused with lavender, and Constantia Lichfield made her entrance, shimmering in silk and fur. She looked as perfect as the day she died: even Hammersmith held his breath and his silence at the sight of her.
‘Our new Viola,’ Lichfield announced.
After a moment Hammersmith found his voice. ‘This woman can’t step in at half a day’s notice.’
‘Why not?’ said Galloway, not taking his eyes off the woman. Lichfield was a lucky man; Constantia was an extraordinary beauty. He scarcely dared draw breath in her presence for fear she’d vanish.
Then she spoke. The lines were from Act V, Scene I:
‘If nothing lets to make us happy both
But this my masculine usurp’d attire,
Do not embrace me till each circumstance
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and jump
That I am Viola.’
The voice was light and musical, but it seemed to resound in her body, filling each phrase with an undercurrent of suppressed passion.
And that face. It was wonderfully alive, the features playing the story of her speech with delicate economy.
She was enchanting.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Hammersmith, ‘but there are rules and regulations about this sort of thing. Is she Equity?’
‘No,’ said Lichfield.
‘Well you see, it’s impossible. The union strictly precludes this kind of thing. They’d flay us alive.’
‘What’s it to you, Hammersmith?’ said Galloway. ‘What the fuck do you care? You’ll never need set foot in a theatre again once this place is demolished.’
‘My wife has watched the rehearsals. She is word perfect.’
‘It could be magic,’ said Galloway, his enthusiasm firing up with every moment he looked at Constantia.
‘You’re risking the Union, Galloway,’ Hammersmith chided.
‘I’ll take that risk.’
‘As you say, it’s nothing to me. But if a little bird was to tell them, you’d have egg on your face.’
‘Hammersmith: give her a chance. Give all of us a chance. If Equity blacks me, that’s my look-out.’ Hammersmith sat down again.
‘Nobody’ll come, you know that, don’t you? Diane Duvall was a star; they would have sat through your turgid production to see her, Galloway. But an unknown… Well, it’s your funeral. Go ahead and do it, I wash my hands of the whole thing. It’s on your head Galloway, remember that. I hope they flay you for it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lichfield. ‘Most kind.’ Hammersmith began to rearrange his desk, to give more prominence to the bottle and the glass. The interview was over: he wasn’t interested in these butterifies any longer.
‘Go away,’ he said. ‘Just go away.’
‘I have one or two requests to make,’ Lichfield told Galloway as they left the office. ‘Alterations to the production which would enhance my wife’s performance.’
‘What are they?’
‘For Constantia’s comfort, I would ask that the lighting
levels be taken down substantially. She’s simply not accustomed to performing under such hot, bright lights.’
‘Very well.’
‘I’d also request that we install a row of footlights.’
‘Footlights?’
‘An odd requirement, I realize, but she feels much happier with footlights.’
‘They tend to dazzle the actors,’ said Galloway. ‘It becomes difficult to see the audience.’