Body on the Stage (13 page)

There was a hint of smugness in
Vincenzo’s voice.

Dennis rolled his eyes at the
barefaced nerve of the man and made his way back to his car.

The next construction session
was manic.

“Come on guys, we have to get
all the sets completed and out of the way ready for the dance
rehearsals,” said Tony. “It’s going to be tight timing but we can
do it if we pull finger. Jessica, get the painters to finish that
house set then we can stash it against the wall. Fenton, you and
Dennis go up top and make sure the fly floor is clear and all the
ropes are secure. We don’t want those drops coming loose. Gazza,
how’s the patch panel looking?”

“It’s all good. Everything’s
plugged in and live. When’s the sound guy coming in to set up
speakers?”

“Good question – let’s check on
that at the next production meeting. What’s the matter, Dennis?
Just follow Fenton up the ladder on the wall over there, he’ll show
you where to go.” Tony bustled off towards the workshop leaving a
flurry of activity in his wake.

“Off you go Doc,” said Gazza.
“You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

“Seriously? You’re sending me up
through that little access hole? You realise that could lead to a
Winnie the Pooh moment, don’t you? I’d hate to have to starve
myself up there for days just to get unstuck.”

Gazza eyed him judiciously.
“You’ve shrunk already, Doc. You’re smaller than Tony is and he has
no trouble getting through. Go on, give it a try.”

Dennis walked over to the bottom
of the ladder and looked up to where Fenton’s skinny legs were
disappearing from view high above. He placed his hands on the
rectangular wooden rungs and began to climb. Fenton’s head appeared
in the distant opening. “Up you come, Dennis. Not far to go now.
Just don’t look down!”

“Thanks for that,” puffed
Dennis. His legs were stronger than he’d expected, and he had no
trouble holding on. It was just his mind that didn’t seem sure he
could make it. He ignored it and carried on, reaching the access
hole and finding to his relief that it looked considerably wider
close to. He hauled himself up the last few rungs, passed easily
through the hole, and stepped cautiously onto the grubby carpeting
with enormous relief.

Around him was a world of
slanted wooden ceilings; bare planks inscribed with white chalk
names and dates. Several elderly couches were pushed up against the
edges of the room, littered with piles of tattered magazines. In
the centre of the area was a dark space laced with a network of
ropes and wires and long wooden beams. Dennis walked gently, not
sure how sound the floor was, and reached the sturdy wooden wall
that surrounded the void. He looked down to see small figures on
the stage – Jessica’s blonde head and Gazza’s old leather cap close
together in conversation.

“Hey Jessica,” he called down.
“I made it up here!” She tilted her face towards him and waved.

“Good for you, Dennis! Don’t get
sidetracked by those grubby magazines, will you!”

“Good on ya, Doc. Told you.”
Gazza gave him a thumbs-up and headed off towards the side of the
stage.

Fenton called across to him from
the other side of the fly-floor, his pale face glimmering in the
dim light. “Can you go along the line of ropes and check that
they’re all made fast to the cleats? Coil up any loose ends and
hang them over the top peg. If you see anything that looks odd,
give me a shout and I’ll check it.”

“It all looks bloody odd to me!
How is this place even legal? It looks like a whole bunch of fatal
accidents waiting to happen!” Dennis walked along the wall,
muttering to himself. “Falling from a great height, tripping on
wrinkled carpet, impaling yourself on a metal cleat, strangling in
a coil of rope, or being hit by a swinging weight.” His foot
clinked against a pile of empty bottles. “And it seems dying of
alcohol poisoning is yet another option. This whole place is a
death trap.”

“Death Trap?” said Fenton,
appearing beside him. “We did that in the nineties. See, there’s my
dad’s name on the roof.” He pointed to a plank inscribed with
‘Death Trap 1995’ and a list of names beneath.

“No, I meant – oh never mind.
This place is obviously a law unto itself. Look, does everything
seem OK up here? Are we done? I think I’d rather be down on solid
ground if it’s all the same to you.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good. Head
on down, I’ll just be a few more minutes.” He grinned suddenly.
“Hey, now you’re up here, do you want to have a look at the ceiling
over the auditorium and see where we’re going to lower a body
through?”

“A body?” said Dennis, startled.
“Whose body?”

“Whichever thespian was daft
enough to volunteer, I guess. Probably Warwick, since his strip
character is going to be the fireman, and it makes more sense for a
fireman to make an entrance that way.”

“Oh, so you mean a live body
then. That’s a relief!”

“Well yeah, I don’t think the
girls would get much of a kick out of a dead body being lowered in
amongst them, do you? So, you coming to take a look then?”

Dennis tamped down feelings of
unease at the thought of walking on a ceiling far above the rows of
hard wooden seat backs. If these guys did it all the time it
couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Yes, OK. Lead the way then.”

He followed Fenton around to the
front of the fly floor where it met the apex of the auditorium
roof, giving access to a triangular space barely high enough to
stand up in. They threaded between the angled rafters, treading
carefully on broad planks that had been nailed over the rows of
joists. Ahead of them, light shone up through a circular hole where
the plaster ceiling rose was suspended, along with the ornate
chandelier beneath it. Fenton pulled a torch from his pocket and
played the beam over a sturdy hook with a rope and wires hanging
from it.

“We’ll lower the rose and
chandelier down to the floor in the next couple of weeks and store
them away, then we’ll cover the hole with some sort of polythene to
disguise it from below. Our lucky fireman will have plenty of space
to slip through – he just has to be fit enough to climb down the
rope with all his gear on.”

Dennis shuddered. “Rather him
than me. I hope Warwick isn’t afraid of heights. At least he’ll be
plenty strong enough – have you seen how much muscle he’s packed on
over the last couple of weeks? He must be fitting in extra sessions
somehow, probably with Ricky or Mark. They’re outstripping the rest
of us mortals.”

“Ha, don’t talk to me about
muscles.” Fenton held out his skinny arm. “If I had one it would be
lonely. Come on Doc, let’s get back down for a nice medicinal cup
of tea, eh?”

They made their way back to the
fly floor ladder and Dennis envied the easy way Fenton swung
himself through the hole to climb down. When he came to do it
himself, he almost froze. There was something uncomfortably strange
about a hole in the floor with such a long way to fall beneath it.
It took all his courage to force himself to leave the relative
safety of solid floorboards and cling to the rungs of the ladder.
Once he was in position it wasn’t too hard to climb down, as long
as he focused on gripping each rung firmly. It was almost an
anticlimax to step onto the stage and realise the ordeal was over.
But he smiled to himself, recognising that he had overcome a
barrier. Why if this kept up, he might one day return to pre-Louise
levels of confidence and be able to take on the world!

“Dennis, you look happy,” said
Jessica, smiling at him. “Did you enjoy your little tour up above?
It’s a cool place, isn’t it? I love all the little nooks and
crannies that hardly anyone gets to see.”

“Oh yes, it’s great. Hey, are
you coming for a cuppa? I’m just going to put the kettle on.”
Dennis headed out back to the Green Room. Jessica watched him,
nodding contentedly. The therapeutic effects of the theatre weren’t
limited to stage performances. Backstage worked its magic on lost
souls just as well.

Vincenzo didn’t turn up for work
next day.

When Dennis arrived at the gym
that evening, Cathy greeted him with a worried frown.

“Hi Dennis, how are you doing?
Vincenzo didn’t say anything to you last night, did he? He didn’t
come in today and he’s not answering his phone. I just wondered if
he’d mentioned going away, or if he wasn’t feeling well?”

“No, I don’t think I spoke to
him last night. The rest of the actors were doing their workout as
usual and I joined in with them. Maybe he just took a day off to
have a break or get something done. Was there anything he missed
being away today?”

“Yes! He missed two classes he
should have been teaching and I had to take them myself. He must be
ill – I’m sure he wouldn’t just not turn up. If he’s at home and
too sick to answer the phone I should really go round and check on
him. Oh God, I should probably have done that sooner, shouldn’t I?”
Her blue eyes were full of concern.

“Hey, stop panicking! I’m sure
he’s fine. Has he done this sort of thing before?”

“No, never. He’s always been
very professional and reliable. I mean, I know I said I had doubts
about him in some ways, but never like this. He knows he’s needed,
and I’m sure he wouldn’t skip work for no apparent reason.” She
looked pale, with dark shadows under her eyes, and her glorious
auburn hair lay damply against her neck.

“Have you managed to get through
the day all right?” said Dennis gently. “Do you need to take a
break? Have you been eating when you should?”

She smiled weakly. “I thought I
was supposed to be the one dishing out health advice.”

“You can dish it out all right,
but can you take it?”

“Dammit, you’re right. I needed
somebody to remind me of that.” She glanced about her. “I think I
have some protein bars in my desk. I should have one of those I
guess. Then I’ll go round to Vincenzo’s place and make sure he’s
all right.”

Dennis stood taller. “We’re
going to do better than that. I’m going to come with you, right now
– we’ll find some proper food first and then we’ll both go round to
Vincenzo’s. Go and get changed and I’ll meet you back here in five
minutes.”

She shot him a startled look but
obeyed his instructions, returning to the reception area wearing
jeans and a tailored jacket instead of tights and exercise top. He
escorted her firmly down the stairs and out of the gym.

“Right,” he said, unlocking his
car, “what fast food meets your health guidelines? There must be
something we can eat that isn’t greasy hamburgers full of fat and
carbs. What do you recommend?”

“Some of the sandwich franchises
are OK, or we can get chicken salads at most of the takeout
places.” She leaned back with a sigh. “I appreciate this, Dennis.
It’s nice being taken care of for a change.”

They picked up salads and diet
sodas at the drive-through and Dennis drove to a nearby park
overlooking the river where they sat at a picnic table and ate
quietly. In the fading light he was pleased to see colour return to
her cheeks, and once she’d eaten, her demeanour brightened.

“Oh God, that’s better. I didn’t
realise how depleted I was. You’d think a so-called nutrition
expert would have more sense, wouldn’t you?”

He shrugged. “You were
distracted, that’s all. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now.
Running the gym is a full-time job, and you’ve got the extra work
for the show. How are the guys’ dance routines coming along?”

She grinned. “Oh I’m having SO
much fun with those! I get to visualise those hunky guys and decide
what every woman would like to see them do with their great-looking
bodies. I design the ultimate fantasy and they’ll perform it for
me!”

“I wish I could…” he bit off the
surprising words that had sprung uninvited from his lips and hoped
the twilight would hide his blush.

“Wish you could what, Dennis?
Perform a routine? Would you like me to choreograph one?” She put
her hand over his. “I’d be happy to design something that would
work for you. If you keep up the training you’ve been doing, in a
few weeks’ time you’d be ready to perform in public. I know you’re
going to look great once your body fat is down around ten
percent.”

“Don’t be silly! That’s crazy
talk!” He bustled about gathering up the food wrappings and dumped
them in the litter bin. “That's not what I meant at all. I’ve got
no desire to parade my body in public, let alone try to perform a
dance routine. God, no!” He turned to face her. “Come on Cathy,
we’d better go and see what’s happened to friend Vincenzo, hadn’t
we?”

“Oh! Yes, of course. I’d almost
forgotten about him.”

Dennis followed Cathy’s
directions to Vincenzo’s place, a rented apartment in a large
wooden villa overlooking the river.

“You looked after me very well
back there,” she said. “For a while I stopped worrying completely.
It was really nice. Thank you.”

“All part of the service. Right,
let’s go door-knocking.”

They followed a path round to
the side of the house where French windows opened onto a wide
wooden deck.

“Is this his front door?” asked
Dennis.

“Yes, when the house was divided
up they made each apartment fit the existing doorways so they
didn’t lose the original character of the building.”

“Nice.”

Dennis knocked sharply on the
glass, then spotted a discreet door-bell button and pushed that as
well. They waited.

Nobody came.

He knocked again, harder this
time, and held his finger on the bell for several seconds. When
there was still no reply he turned to Cathy. “Nobody home, by the
looks of things.”

“Unless he’s in bed and too weak
to move,” she said. “Can you see any open windows we could call
through and listen for a response?”