Untouchable Things (21 page)

Pity poor old Cinderella!”

Rebecca saw how clever Seth had been now. If Catherine had played Cinderella it would have been too close to the bone. This way, watching Michael in drag reaching for a feather duster, it was just pure comedy. It looked as though he was starting to enjoy himself, addressing the audience as she approached.

“But who comes here without a horse?

His upright sword is most disarming!

Makes me quite forget my chores –

Perhaps, at last, it’s my Prince Charming!”

He batted his eyelashes in her direction. “Greetings, Sir Knight.”

Rebecca faced Michael, trying to keep her face straight. “Greetings, fair maiden. What services may I perform for you?”

Michael raised his eyebrows to the audience. “What, already?” More titters.

Who knew Michael could do innuendo?

* * * * *

Catherine clapped with the rest. The forced smile was beginning to hurt and she bent over for her glass of water. Was that supposed to be her, then? Certainly that’s what Anna and José thought. Was Seth making fun of her or was it just supposed to be a joke?

* * * * *

José folded his arms and prepared himself for the next section. Three loud knocks and the crimson beanbag that was Seth stepped forward.

“So onwards rides our steadfast knight

With not a dragon’s tail in sight

Until he meets a little chappie,

Short and sweet and gay and happy.”

Anna dug him in the ribs as Charles skipped onto stage in his lederhosen, hands outstretched like a penguin’s wings.

“Here am I a merry elf,

Never thinking of himself,

Never low and never listless,

Singing songs for Father Christmas.”

Anna was nearly wetting herself. Even the professional, Rebecca, was hiding her chuckles behind the lid thing on her helmet as she looked down at her script for the next line. She asked if he’d seen any dragons.

Charles bowed. “Greetings, my Lord. I have not seen a dragon for many a year.”

“Pity. Still, there must be one around here somewhere. You seem like a jolly chap. Do you want to help me in my search?”

Charles shook his head.

“Sadly, Lord, my present contract

Means I may serve but one master.

Were I to renege on this

It would spell sure career disaster.”

Rebecca patted his arm. “Oh dear, bit of an ogre, your boss?”

Charles looked round in alarm. “An ogre? Where?”

“Hush, timid elf. Not a real ogre.”

The elf wiped his brow. “Phew. I once sold myself to an ogre. It wasn’t pretty.”

King George nodded. “Ugly creatures, so I’ve heard.” A few chuckles. “But why sell yourself?”

Charles’ eyes were wide. “How would I live otherwise? At least my current owner provides for me, stops me going back on the streets.” He looked around nervously. “I must not say more. My master hears everything. Ernie must go. Good luck in your search.”

The audience laughed and Anna leaned over. “Who would have thought Charles could be so camp?” José concentrated on trying to slow his breathing, realising his palms were clammy on his knees. How fucking dare he? Parade his knowledge like that, taunt him with it, shove it in his face. And that stuff about serving one master – Seth must know that he was still in love with him.

He closed his eyes. On the other hand, couldn’t it apply to all of them? Wasn’t that why they were all here – to serve one master? He opened his eyes to Jake mincing onstage in a yellow, frilly dress. He forced a smile back at Anna. Maybe it was just a bit of fun.

* * * * *

Charles took his seat back in the audience, slightly out of breath, and acknowledged the back slaps with a grin. He’d always wondered about amateur dramatics. Maybe he could join a group after Christmas. He looked around. Another group, God, he’d have to be mad.

Rebecca was brandishing her sword towards the weeping Jake.

“Hail, good lady, good King George

Who pays no court to fun or feast

Will help you in your hour of need

And hunt and slay the dreadful beast.”

Jake swooned.

“Kill the beast? No, no, I beseech you, do not. He is a good beast, though he looks fearsome.”

Jake continued in a squeaky voice.

“Good my knight, my name is Beauty,

Strive I to fulfil my duty

But now my heart doth bleed and blister

And I am torn ’tween love and sister.”

Charles stiffened in his chair and frowned.

“Whatever do you mean? Take me to the dragon at once!”

“Dragon? There is no dragon, my Lord.

Only a beast so kind and tender

That with a smile he doth render

Himself a shining prince to me.

My sisters say I must leave him be.”

Charles flicked his gaze towards Seth, inscrutable under his cotton wool beard. Was this supposed to be a dig, a reference to Sarah, the way he looked out for her? She’d not been well again lately. A couple of times he’d made soup and taken it over in portion-sized tupperwares. Sarah-sized portions. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Seth, though. He never mentioned her name in front of Seth.

King George had ascertained that the Beast was no dragon and said his goodbyes to Beauty.

“How strange this quest is now becoming,

So many people in such strife,

Such tears and fears and lack of cheer

Without a dragon in their life!”

Charles shivered unexpectedly. It was a good time for Anna to enter, waving her inflated ‘beanstalk’ in front of her. Rebecca gasped.

“Saints alive, what travesty is this?”

Anna leered at her.

“Travesty? This ain’t no travesty, mate.” It was a pretty good Cockney accent. “But if it’s a tapestry you’re after I can get you one proper cheap, that big French one, top-class fake, no one would know.”

“Not a tapestry, you fool, a trav – oh, it doesn’t matter. Who are you and what is your business?”

“Jolly Jake it is my name

And jolly jape, it is my game.

I don’t talk posh like kings and queens talk

But folks admire me for my beanstalk!”

Anna swung the beanstalk wildly. “Why, surely you’ve ’eard of Jake and the Beanstalk, guv’nor?”

* * * * *

It could have been Lester talking. Jake knew he was watching a portrayal of himself but he felt like he was watching his mum’s old boyfriend, the only one who’d stuck around long enough to become a role model. It was like someone holding up a mirror, to show him how much he’d modelled himself on Lester – his patter, the dodgy buying and selling, the banter.

“Sold the owd lady’s cow, din’ I, in return for these beans. Magic beans, if you know what I mean, eh? Nudge nudge, wink wink.”

Jake grinned at the obvious reference to the pills he scored for Seth from time to time. At least Lester had been kind. He’d taken Jake under his wing, even taught him to cook a bit. But this barrow boy stuff in Anna’s terrible accent – was that really him? Was he just a walking cliché, a laughing stock? He tightened his hand on his glass and glanced over at the clock on the sideboard. Things were running to plan. Should be finished by 10, just as he’d said.

* * * * *

When could he take this ridiculous dress off? It felt about 100 degrees in the room with the fire still burning high. Michael’s stomach tightened as he watched the stage. It had been okay for a while prancing around with cleaning equipment, he’d done his bit, but it appeared there was more sport to be had at his expense. Anna was talking about magic beans to Rebecca’s King George – the character he assumed was modelled on him.

“Well, they growed me a bloody enormous beanstalk, didn’t they? See for yourself. Have a feel, mate.” Anna waved the ludicrously phallic beanstalk. Michael squirmed in his chair.

“I most certainly will not.”

Anna-as-Jake moved closer to King George. “It’s what’s on the end that excites me most.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I had a bit of an explore up there once and the whole thing starts shaking doesn’ it, and there was ’eavy breathing, the lot!”

The audience chortled as King George’s eyes lit up.

“Good heavens. Could it be – a dragon?”

“Don’t think it was no dragon, though it did get pretty ’ot up there. Is that your thing then, dragons?”

King George waved his flag.

“Good King George will never tire

Till he’s put out the dragon’s fire.

Its teeth will shatter, its blood will splatter,

Its eyes will – oh, it doesn’t matter.”

Anna looked down at the script and then frowned. “Whatever’s wrong, Squire?”

King George had slumped. “Nothing. It’s just, well, no one seems to care about dragons anymore and I can’t find one anywhere. Maybe I just need to accept it isn’t a job for life anymore and change field.”

Anna put her hands on her hips. “Don’t be downhearted now, sir. Why I ’eard only last week about a princess ’o’d been captured by a dragon.”

“You did? Where? That’s wonderful news. I mean, obviously…”

“Don’t worry, I understand you, guv. But I’m afraid I don’t know where the dragon is. You could always start by lookin’ up this beanstalk, sir?”

Anna held out her beanstalk eagerly.

“I don’t know… perhaps I should…” King George put out his hand tentatively. “No, I will venture east first. My dragon radar is starting to throb. Farewell, Jake with the Beanstalk.”

Michael crossed his legs. It was bad enough being portrayed as a do-gooder with no sense of humour but this was taking it too far. Another dig from Seth to show that Glyndebourne night was not forgotten. Had anyone else caught onto the subtext? Did anyone else know?

* * * * *

Anna, minus beanstalk, flopped down on one of the chairs. Thank God her bit was over. Or was it? She laughed with everyone else as José entered as Gretel, stuffing a cake into his mouth, his words indistinguishable as crumbs flew everywhere. Cheeky swines, him and Seth. At least she could laugh at herself.

Rebecca as King George was looking appalled.

“I pray, dear lady, do not gorge

For I am abstinent King George.

It’s hard for me to stay acetic

When I wish to have your cake and eat it.”

Gretel handed King George a cake, who bit it and then spat it out. Gretel looked upset.

“Good my Lord, I beg your pardon

I did not mean to give you a hard one!”

In true panto spirit – she’d known this stuff would be up José’s street – he looked around to get the laugh.

“My name is Gretel and, with my brother,

We’re prisoners of a wicked other.”

King George leaned in. “A dragon, perchance?”

“Witch, I’m afraid. Long nose, pointy hat, the works. She’s forcing us to spend our days eating candy and gingerbread. It’s terrible.”

Gretel-José stuffed another cake in. Maybe he’d negotiated low-fat muffins with Seth.

“This truly is dreadful. Surely you can escape and return home?”

A shake of the head. “Never. My father married again and Hansel and I fled from our stepmother. Then the witch caught us. On balance I’d rather be with her.”

Anna gulped her grog. Seth had made his point about her going home many times; now it was starting to feel like a lecture. Was it obvious to the others? Wicked stepmother, panto – perhaps not.

At last Gretel exited and three knocks heralded the return of Father Christmas, surely even hotter than Rebecca in his padded suit.

“For weeks and months our saintly king

Did tirelessly pursue his prey

Till word of mouth propelled him

To a gaudy kingdom far away.”

King George entered. “Why, what land is this? Bedecked with tinsel and huge pink murals. Surely a dragon cannot be hiding here?”

Charles minced on, sporting a cravat and pink feather boa.

“Why surely ’tis Ernie the Elf? I scarely recognise him in this new attire. Ernie the Elf, is that you?”

Charles cleared his throat and flipped his hand in the age-old symbol of campness. “I go by the name Eduardo now.” Anna sniggered, stepmothers receding from her mind. “’Tis the land of theatre, m’Lord.”

She blinked as Jake and José skipped across the stage, arm in arm, saying “darling!”

King George looked severe. “And is there a poor princess here held captive by a dragon?”

Eduardo gestured to the audience. Catherine had just tiptoed on in her sexy santa suit. Anna joined the chorus –

“She’s behind you!”

King George looked around vaguely. “Oh, no she isn’t.”

Anna leaned over to José, now back in his chair, but saw he didn’t need prompting. “Oh, yes she is!” They grinned at each other.

Catherine came forward now, hips sashaying in a most un-Catherine like way. “Eduardo!” She and Charles air-kissed several times. On seeing King George, now looking distinctly tetchy, Princess Catherine swooned and started sobbing loudly.

“My lady.”

Charles mopped her brow.

“Apologies, I am not well,

Dear knight, and live in daily hell.

This monster’s aim is plain to see –

He seeks his wicked way with me!”

* * * * *

Catherine was really going for it, perhaps seeking revenge for the Cinderella connotations. Rebecca felt herself growing even hotter. She looked down at her script and saw that she, as King George, had the killer couplet to deliver:

“Is my lady’s story clean

Or is she but a… drama queen?”

The audience clapped its appreciation and Rebecca had to acknowledge it. Was she damning Catherine or herself? Her legs ached and she felt slightly seasick.

“My lady, cease your weeping. And pray stand up.”

Catherine rose, batting her eyelashes.

“Speak truly now. There is no dragon, is there?”

A slight pause. “No, my lord.”

“You invented it?”

“I dreamt about one and it seemed to become real. Plus, everyone was so much nicer to me then. And my life seemed more real, somehow. You’re not cross, are you?” Catherine’s voice warmed as she spoke and her colour was up. She was actually acting rather well.

Rebecca slumped down, head in hands, giving Charles his cue.

“He’s having a ‘moment’, my lady. Soliloquy will follow.”