cb.booksofblood-第22部分

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　　〃What　news？〃
　　〃Mr　Galloway；　I　have　to　inform　you　that　your　Twelfth　Night　will　be　the　last　production　the　Elysium　will　see。〃　The　statement　didn't　e　as　much　of　a　surprise；　but　it　still　hurt；　and　the　internal　wince　must　have　registered　on　Calloway's　face。
　　〃Ah。。　。　so　you　didn't　know。　I　thought　not。　They　always　keep　the　artists　in　ignorance　don't　they？　It's　a　satisfaction　the　Apollonians　will　never　relinquish。　The　accountant's　revenge。〃
　　〃Hammersmith；〃　said　Galloway。
　　〃Hammersmith。〃
　　〃Bastard。〃
　　〃His　clan　are　never　to　be　trusted；　but　then　I　hardly　need　to　tell　you　that。〃
　　〃Are　you　sure　about　the　closure？〃
　　〃Certainly。　He'd　do　it　tomorrow　if　he　could。〃
　　〃But　why？　I've　done　Stoppard　here；　Tennessee　Williams　…always　played　to　good　houses。　It　doesn't　make　sense。〃
　　〃It　makes　admirable　financial　sense；　I'm　afraid；　and　if　you　think　in　figures；　as　Hammersmith　does；　there's　no　riposte　to　simple　arithmetic。　The　Elysium's　getting　old。　We're　all　getting　old。　We　creak。　We　feel　our　age　in　our　joints：　our　instinct　is　to　lie　down　and　be　gone　away。〃　Gone　away：　the　voice　became　melodramatically　thin；　a　whisper　of　longing。
　　〃How　do　you　know　about　this？〃
　　〃I　was；　for　many　years；　a　trustee　of　the　theatre；　and　since　my　retirement　I've　made　it　my　business　to…what's　the　phrase？…keep　my　ear　to　the　ground。　It's　difficult；　in　this　day　and　age；　to　evoke　the　triumph　this　stage　has　seen　。　。　。〃　His　voice　trailed　away；　in　a　reverie。　It　seemed　true；　not　an　effect。
　　Then；　business…like　once　more：　〃This　theatre　is　about　to　die；　Mr　Galloway。　You　will　be　present　at　the　last　rites；　through　no　fault　of　your　own。　I　felt　you　ought　to　be　。
　　warned。〃
　　〃Thank　you。　I　appreciate　that。　Tell　me；　were　you　ever　an　actor　yourself？〃
　　〃What　makes　you　think　that？〃
　　〃The　voice。〃
　　〃Too　rhetorical　by　half；　I　know。　My　curse；　I'm　afraid。　I　can　scarcely　ask　for　a　cup　of　coffee　without　sounding　like　Lear　in　the　storm。〃　He　laughed；　heartily；　at　his　own　expense。　Galloway　began　to　warm　to　the　fellow。　Maybe　he　was　a　little　archaic…looking；　perhaps　even　slightly　absurd；　but　there　was　a　full…bloodedness　about　his　manner　that　caught　Galloway's　imagination。　Lichfield　wasn't　apologetic　about　his　love　of　theatre；　like　so　many　in　the　profession；　people　who　trod　the　boards　as　a　second…best；　their　souls　sold　to　the　movies。
　　〃I　have；　I　will　confess；　dabbled　in　the　craft　a　little；〃　Lichfield　confided；　〃but　I　just　don't　have　the　stamina　for　it；　I'm　afraid。　Now　my　wife…〃　Wife？　Galloway　was　surprised　Lichfield　had　a　heterosexual　bone　in　his　body。
　　〃…My　wife　Constantia　has　played　here　on　a　number　of　occasions；　and　I　may　say　very　successfully。　Before　the　war　of　course。〃
　　〃It's　a　pity　to　close　the　place。〃
　　〃Indeed。　But　there　are　no　last　act　miracles　to　be　performed；　I'm　afraid。　The　Elysium　will　be　rubble　in　six　weeks〃　time；　and　there's　an　end　to　it。　I　just　wanted　you　to　know　that　interests　other　than　the　crassly　mercial　are　watching　over　this　closing　production。　Think　of　us　as　guardian　angels。　We　wish　you　well；　Terence；　we　all　wish　you　well。〃　It　was　a　genuine　sentiment；　simply　stated。　Galloway　was　touched　by　this　man's　concern；　and　a　little　chastened　by　it。　It　put　his　own　stepping…stone　ambitions　in　an　unflattering　perspective。　Lichfield　went　on：　〃We　care　to　see　this　theatre　end　its　days　in　suitable　style；　then　die　a　good　death。〃
　　〃Damn　shame。〃
　　〃Too　late　for　regrets　by　a　long　chalk。　We　should　never　have　given　up　Dionysus　for　Apollo。〃
　　〃What？〃
　　〃Sold　ourselves　to　the　accountants；　to　legitimacy；　to　the　likes　of　Mr　Hammersmith；　whose　soul；　if　he　has　one；　must　be　the　size　of　my　fingernail；　and　grey　as　a　louse's　back。　We　should　have　had　the　courage　of　our　depictions；　I　think。　Served　poetry　and　lived　under　the　stars。〃　Galloway　didn't　quite　follow　the　allusions；　but　he　got　the　general　drift；　and　respected　the　viewpoint。
　　Off　stage　left；　Diane's　voice　cut　the　solemn　atmosphere　like　a　plastic　knife。
　　〃Terry？　Are　you　there？〃　The　spell　was　broken：　Galloway　hadn't　been　aware　how　hypnotic　Lichfield's　presence　was　until　that　other　voice　came　between　them。　Listening　to　him　was　like　being　rocked　in　familiar　arms。　Lichfield　stepped　to　the　edge　of　the　stage；　lowering　his　voice　to　a　conspiratorial　rasp。
　　〃One　last　thing；　Terence…〃
　　〃Yes？〃
　　〃Your　Viola。　She　lacks；　if　you'll　forgive　my　pointing　it　out；　the　special　qualities　required　for　the　role。〃　Galloway　hung　fire。
　　〃I　know；〃　Lichfield　continued；　〃personal　loyalties　prevent　honesty　in　these　matters。〃
　　〃No；〃　Galloway　replied；　〃you're　right。　But　she's　popular。〃
　　〃So　was　bear…baiting；　Terence。〃　A　luminous　smile　spread　beneath　the　brim；　hanging　in　the　shadow　like　the　grin　of　the　Cheshire　Gat。
　　〃I'm　only　joking；〃　said　Lichfield；　his　rasp　a　chuckle　now。　〃Bears　can　be　charming。〃
　　〃Terry；　there　you　are。〃　Diane　appeared；　over…dressed　as　usual；　from　behind　the　tabs。　There　was　surely　an　embarrassing　confrontation　in　the　air。　But　Lichfield　was　walking　away　down　the　false　perspective　of　the　hedges　towards　the　backdrop。
　　〃Here　I　am；〃　said　Terry。
　　〃Who　are　you　talking　to？〃　But　Lichfield　had　exited；　as　smoothly　and　as　quietly　as　he　had　entered。　Diane　hadn't　even　seen　him　go。
　　〃Oh；　just　an　angel；〃　said　Galloway。
　　
　　The　first　Dress　Rehearsal　wasn't；　all　things　considered；　as　bad　as　Galloway　had　anticipated：　it　was　immeasurably　worse。　Cues　were　lost；　props　mislaid；　entrances　missed；　the　ic　business　seemed　ill…contrived　and　laborious；　the　performances　either　hopelessly　overwrought　or　trifling。　This　was　a　Twelfth　Night　that　seemed　to　last　a　year。　Halfway　through　the　third　act　Galloway　glanced　at　his　watch；　and　realized　an　uncut　performance　of　Macbeth　（with　interval）　would　now　be　over。
　　He　sat　in　the　stalls　with　his　head　buried　in　his　hands；　contemplating　the　work　that　he　still　had　to　do　if　he　was　to　bring　this　production　up　to　scratch。　Not　for　the　first　time　on　this　show　he　felt　helpless　in　the　face　of　the　casting　problems。　Cues　could　be　tightened；　props　rehearsed　with；　entrances　practised　until　they　were　engraved　on　the　memory。　But　a　bad　actor　is　a　bad　actor　is　a　bad　actor。　He　could　labour　till　doomsday　neatening　and　sharpening；　but　he　could　not　make　a　silk　purse　of　the　sow's　ear　that　was　Diane　Duvall。
　　With　all　the　skill　of　an　acrobat　she　contrived　to　skirt　every　significance；　to　ignore　every　opportunity　to　move　the　audience；　to　avoid　every　nuance　the　playwright　would　insist　on　putting　in　her　way。　It　was　a　performance　heroic　in　its　ineptitude；　reducing　the　delicate　characterization　Galloway　had　been　at　pains　to　create　to　a　single…note　whine。　This　Viola　was　soap…opera　pap；　less　human　than　the　hedges；　and　about　as　green。
　　The　critics　would　slaughter　her。
　　Worse　than　that；　Lichfield　would　be　disappointed。　To　his　considerable　surprise　the　impact　of　Lichfield's　appearance　hadn't　dwindled；　Galloway　couldn't　forget　his　actorly　projection；　his　posing；　his　rhetoric。　It　had　moved　him　more　deeply　than　he　was　prepared　to　admit；　and　the　thought　of　this　Twelfth　Night；　with　this　Viola；　being　the　swan…song　of　Lichfield's　beloved　Elysium　perturbed　and　embarrassed　him。　It　seemed　somehow　ungrateful。
　　He'd　been　warned　often　enough　about　a　director's　burdens；　long　before　he　became　seriously　embroiled　in　the　profession。　His　dear　departed　guru　at　the　Actors〃　Centre；　Wellbeloved　（he　of　the　glass　eye）；　had　told　Galloway　from　the　beginning：　〃A　director　is　the　loneliest　creature　on　God's　earth。　He　knows　what's　good　and　bad　in　a　show；　or　he　should　if　he's　worth　his　salt；　and　he　has　to　carry　that　information　around　with　him　and　keep　smiling。〃　It　hadn't　seemed　so　difficult　at　the　time。
　　〃This　job　isn't　about　succeeding；〃　Wellbeloved　used　to　say；　〃it's　about　learning　not　to　fall　on　your　sodding　face。〃　Good　advice　as　it　turned　out。　He　could　still　see　Well…beloved　handing　out　that　wisdom　on　a　plate；　his　bald　head　shiny；　his　living　eye　glittering　with　cynical　delight。　No　man　on　earth；　Galloway　had　thought；　loved　theatre　with　more　passion　than　Wellbeloved；　and　surely　no　man　could　have　been　more　scathing　about　its　pretensions。
　　
　　It　was　almost　one　in　the　morning　by　the　time　they'd　finished　the　wretched　run…through；　gone　through　the　notes；　and　separated；　glum　and　mutually　resentful；　into　the　night。　Galloway　wanted　none　of　their　pany　tonight：　No　late　drinking　in　one　or　others〃　digs；　no　mutual　ego…massage。　He　had　a　cloud　of　gloom　all　to　himself；　and　neither　wine；　women　nor　song　would　disperse　it。　He　could　barely　bring　himself　to　look　Diane　in　the　face。　His　notes　to　her；　broadcast　in　front　of　the　rest　of　the　cast；　had　been　acidic。　Not　that　it　would　do　much　good。
　　In　the　foyer；　he　met　Tallulah；　still　spry　though　it　was　long　after　an　old　lady's　bedtime。
　　〃Are　you　locking　up　tonight？〃　he　asked　her；　more　for　something　to　say　than　because　he　was　actually　curious。
　　〃I　always　lock　up；〃　she　said。　She　was　well　over　seventy：　too　old　for　her　job　in　the　box　office；　and　too　tenacious　to　be　easily　removed。　But　then　that　was　all　academic　now；　wasn't　it？　He　wondered　what　her　response　would　be　when　she　heard　the　news　of　the　closure。　It　would　probably　break　her　brittle　heart。　Hadn't　Hammersmith　once　told　him　Tallulah　had　been　at　the　theatre　since　she　was　a　girl　of　fifteen？
　　〃Well；　goodnight　Tallulah。〃　She　gave　him　a　tiny　nod；　as　always。　Then　she　reached　out　and　took　Galloway's　arm。
　　〃Yes？〃
　　〃Mr　Lichfield。。。〃　she　began。
　　〃What　about　Mr　Lichfield？〃
　　〃He　didn't　like　the　rehearsal。〃
　　〃He　was　in　tonight？〃
　　〃Oh　yes；〃　she　replied；　as　though　Galloway　was　an　imbecile　for　thinking　otherwise；　〃of　course　he　was　in。〃
　　〃I　didn't　see　him。〃
　　〃Well。。。　no　matter。　He　wasn't　very　pleased。〃　Galloway　tried　to　sound　indifferent。
　　〃It　can't　be　helped。〃
　　〃Your　show　is　very　close　to　his　heart。〃
　　〃I　realize　that；〃　said　Galloway；　avoiding　Tallulah's　accusing　looks。　He　had　quite　enough　to　keep　him　awake　tonight；　without　her　disappointed　tones　ringing　in　his　ears。
　　He　loosed　his　arm；　and　made　for　the　door。　Tallulah　made　no　attempt　to　stop　him。　She　just　said：　〃You　should　have　seen　Constantia。〃　Constantia？　Where　had　he　heard　that　name？　Of　course；　Lichfield's　wife。
　　〃She　was　a　wonderful　Viola。〃　He　was　too　tired　for　this　mooning　over　dead　a