Murder Dancing (2 page)

Max Tobin also rose and bent over Libby's hand.

‘Delighted to meet you,' he said, in a voice like smooth gravel.

When introductions had been completed all round and Adam sent off for drinks, Max spoke again.

‘Andrew has told me you've very kindly made some time available for our Witches at your theatre.' He looked at Libby. ‘And you'll see if you can get anything out of my dancers about why they're unhappy?'

‘I don't promise,' said Libby, looking uncomfortable. ‘They won't know me, or Fran.'

‘I thought of a secret weapon,' said Andrew with a smile. ‘After Ben had sent me the dates and I confirmed them with Max, I called Harry.'

‘You said at lunchtime you'd already booked the table,' said Ben.

‘Ah, but Max said he wanted to come down, so I needed to add to my booking. And it occurred to me that Harry would make an excellent agony uncle.' Andrew beamed round the table.

‘And I will.' Harry, tall, blond and slightly raffish, appeared beside them flourishing bottles. ‘Pete, of course, will be standing guard over me like a bulldog.'

‘He's more Afghan than bulldog,' said Libby.

‘Peter's my cousin,' Ben explained to Max, who was looking faintly bewildered, ‘and Harry's partner.'

‘In life, dearie,' sighed Harry, ‘and in all things. Right, who's having what?'

Harry departed with the orders, and Max laughed.

‘I remember him, of course,' he said. ‘We came here after your concert, didn't we?'

Andrew smiled. ‘We did. And that brings us back to why you're bringing
Pendle
down here. Tell them all about it.'

Max picked up his gin and tonic and swirled it absently round the glass.

‘I suppose it started when I took a group of my boys to see a revival of Matthew Bourne's
Swan Lake
.'

‘Oh, bliss,' said Libby.

‘What's that?' asked Guy, frowning.

‘Matthew Bourne has a ballet company called New Adventures, and one of his ballets is a version of
Swan Lake
danced by men,' explained Andrew.

‘Oh,' said Guy.

‘Anyway,' Max went on, ‘we talked about it, naturally, and they were very enthusiastic, all of them expressing a wish to do the same. I said we couldn't do
Swan Lake
, but we could possibly do something similar.'

‘And you thought of the Pendle Witches?' said Fran.

‘No, actually, it was one of the boys.' Max smiled slightly. ‘He grew up “in the shadow of the hill” as he put it, and the whole area is a rather grisly tourist attraction. And he pointed out that these days the witches are often played by men in –' he glanced at Andrew.

‘The Scottish play,' the company chanted.

‘Exactly.' Max smiled at them. ‘So we began to workshop it. The storyline and so on.'

‘What about music?' asked Fran.

‘We workshopped without. Our rehearsal pianist extemporised a bit, and then offered to write it.'

‘Really? Is he experienced as a composer?' asked Libby.

‘He's written a lot, although it's not often performed. He's very young, but he's been a rehearsal pianist for long enough that he knows what we need. And he's just modern enough for it not to feel too classical and to be more accessible.'

‘So it all fell into place?' said Ben.

‘It seemed to. We began proper rehearsals and it was all going well.' Max shook his head. ‘Then my principal dancer – playing Demdike – started arriving late and behaving oddly. Eventually when I took him aside, he said someone had been playing tricks on him.'

‘What sort of tricks?' asked Guy after a pause.

‘Leaving odd messages in his locker, that sort of thing.'

‘Messages about what?'

‘Oddly, they were all quotations from that play. From the Three Witches speeches, and Banquo's description of them.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Andrew, turning to the others. ‘Remember? “What are these/So wither'd and so wild in their attire,” and then it goes on “You should be women/And yet your beards forbid me to interpret/That you are so.” That helps us see that the creatures could be either male or female.'

‘How did you call that up so quickly?' asked Libby, admiring.

‘I've played Banquo a couple of times,' said Andrew with a grin.

‘I played Maria in
Twelfth Night
three times and I'm not sure I could spout anything but “By my troth Sir Toby” and then it all goes blank.'

‘There's nothing particularly threatening in that, though,' said Fran.

‘What, Maria?'

‘No, idiot, Banquo's speech.'

‘But there is in the witch's description of what she does to the sailor,' said Max.

‘Ah,' said Andrew. ‘She makes him impotent.'

‘Does she?' said Guy. ‘And what sailor?'

‘It's sometimes cut,' said Andrew, ‘it's at the beginning of act one, scene three, before they meet Macbeth. The first witch describes what she will do to a sailor to punish his wife. Not relevant to the story as a whole, so, as I said, it's occasionally cut.'

‘And that was one of the messages?' said Fran.

Max nodded. ‘And after that, apparently, there were dead frogs. And a snake skin.'

‘The fenny snake!' said Libby.

‘From the witches' song,' explained Andrew.

‘Oh, is that “Double trouble, cauldron … something”?' asked Guy.

‘Nearly,' said Andrew. ‘I won't correct you.'

‘Oh, no, you mustn't quote, must you?' said Ben.

‘But you already have,' said Libby, looking at Andrew. ‘Banquo's speech.'

‘So I did.' Andrew's cheeks grew pink above his neat beard. ‘Unwarrantable showing off.'

‘So what happened after the fenny snake?' asked Libby.

‘He left.' Max sighed. ‘Pity. He was shaping up so well. He's gone back to West End ensemble now. Better paid, of course.'

Adam arrived to show them to their table. When they were settled, Max resumed.

‘I thought that was it, and we would carry on as before. I recast Demdike, and then Chattox began experiencing the same sort of thing.'

‘Is Chattox another witch?' asked Ben.

‘Demdike and Chattox, as they were known, were the two most famous, along with Anne Redferne, Chattox's daughter, so they are my three principals. Demdike and Chattox are the main two, of course.'

‘Was it the same?' asked Libby. ‘Messages and frogs?'

‘At first. But what came next was really shocking.'

‘What?' Fran asked.

‘He found a disembowelled cockerel in his locker.'

Chapter Two

‘That's serious stuff, then,' said Libby.

‘You said “he”. Who did you mean? The new Demdike?' asked Fran.

‘Sorry, no. My Chattox.' Max sighed. ‘And of course, the whole troupe got the wind up.'

‘They would,' said Ben. ‘I'm surprised they didn't walk out en masse.'

‘I think they would have, but Chattox happens to be a very strong, no-nonsense, unsuperstitious person. Not at all the sort who would give in to this sort of pressure. In fact it made him rather …' he paused.

‘Bolshie?' suggested Libby.

Max smiled at her. ‘Exactly.'

‘Sort of “no one's going to push me out of this part” feeling?'

‘Spot on.' Max turned to Andrew. ‘You told me she was good.'

‘Oh, don't tell her that,' said Adam, appearing with their first course. Max once more looked startled.

‘That's my son,' said Libby. ‘Don't take any notice.'

‘So what happened next?' asked Fran.

‘I called them together after a rehearsal and asked them what they thought about it. If any of them wanted to pull out, or if they thought we should stop altogether.' Max thoughtfully selected a cheese-smothered nacho from the plate. ‘They all wanted to carry on.'

‘All of them?' Libby raised her eyebrows.

‘Well, there were a couple who didn't look too keen, but when they realised that everyone else was all for carrying on

they agreed to do so, too. I'm pleased about that, as one of them is playing Roger Nowell, who was the chief prosecutor.'

‘Has anything else happened since then?' asked Guy.

‘No. That was when Andrew and I came up with the plan to – well, to enlist your support,' Max finished lamely.

‘Rehearsals are quite advanced, are they?' asked Libby.

‘They are. Which is just as well, because we haven't given you very much notice, have we?'

‘When exactly are you coming?' asked Fran.

‘The weekend after next. We'll have a week rehearsing in the theatre, then four or five days culminating in a final Halloween performance on the Saturday. We'll clear out on the Sunday. Some of the boys have got panto this season, but they won't need to start that for a few weeks.'

‘You don't have to go on the Sunday,' said Ben. ‘We've got nothing booked in until the end of the week, and that's only a one-nighter. Unless you have another venue to get to, of course.'

‘No, because this will be a trial. I'm getting a few people down to have a look, and we'll see where we go from there.'

The conversation turned to more general aspects of theatre, and particularly pantomime, until Harry emerged from the kitchen to join them, carrying a bottle of brandy and followed by Peter, who was introduced to Max.

‘I can see I shall have to keep an eye on my boys if they're going to be eating here,' said Max, eyeing the brandy with amusement.

‘Oh, I don't dish this out to everyone,' said Harry, swinging a chair around and sitting astride it. ‘Only favoured guests.' He bent a darkling glance on Libby. ‘Sometimes.'

‘Exactly how many of you will be coming?' asked Ben. ‘I'll have to warn my mother.'

‘Your mother?'

‘Ben and his mother own the theatre and the Manor, where you'll all be staying,' said Andrew. ‘If there's room for you all. If not, the pub, as you know, has a couple of rooms, and there's always Anderson Place if you want to be really exclusive.'

‘There are ten dancers, me, the composer/pianist and our stage manager. We could bring our own stage crew, unless the theatre can provide them?'

‘What about lighting?' asked Peter, who specialised in what was known as FX, or sound and lighting effects.

‘We can supply our own techies, unless you're prepared to do that, too,' said Max. ‘It's a question of how many you can actually accommodate.'

Peter and Ben looked at each other.

‘We've got twelve rooms in the Manor,' said Ben, ‘and there are a couple of rooms here at the pub if they're free.'

‘And we would have had the flat upstairs if Adam hadn't moved back in,' said Harry.

‘He could move back in with us for the fortnight,' said Libby with resignation.

‘Are you only using piano for the performances?' asked Fran.

‘No, we're having the music recorded by a small orchestra,' said Max, ‘so technically, our composer needn't be here for the run, but we'll need him for some of the rehearsals, and he rather regards it as his baby.'

‘So that's thirteen essentials,' said Ben.

‘Unlucky,' said Libby, pulling a face.

‘Oh, Lib, really,' said Harry.

‘How many rooms are there at the pub?' asked Guy. ‘Is it really only two?'

Andrew stood up. ‘I'll pop next door and ask. Shall I book whatever they've got free at the time?'

‘I think we can provide backstage and tech crew,' said Peter after he'd gone, ‘as long as your stage manager doesn't mind. And I'm happy to do lighting design and operate.' He gazed at Max thoughtfully. ‘In fact, I shall look forward to it. At least it's different from lighting one-nighters and pantomime.'

Andrew re-appeared. ‘Three!' he said triumphantly. ‘I've booked them all.'

‘There!' Libby looked round the table delightedly. ‘The ten boys in the Manor and three top bods in the pub.'

‘Top bods is putting it a bit high,' said Max, with a laugh, ‘but yes, it works. And the boys, as you call them, will probably be happier with me staying somewhere else.'

‘Good, that's settled then,' said Ben. ‘I'll tell Mum tomorrow.'

‘And we'll organise a work party to get the rooms ready,' said Libby.

‘It's all very informal.' Max looked at Ben and Libby. ‘Thank you.'

‘Are we a bit too informal?' Libby asked Ben later as they got ready for bed. ‘As far as the theatre goes, I mean.'

‘I suppose we are a bit. But I'll issue Max with a contract tomorrow, and do all the paperwork. After all, there's no one looking over our shoulders, is there? The theatre belongs to us, lock, stock and barrel. As long as we comply with health and safety and council regulations, we're fine.'

‘And declare it to the tax people.' Libby climbed into bed. ‘I'm glad I don't have to do any of that.'

‘So am I,' said Ben. ‘I'd never hear the last of it.'

By the time Max arrived, a day ahead of his company, Ben had discovered he needed no extra backstage support and Libby had helped Hetty and a small army of village ladies give all the rooms at the Manor a good airing. The whole place smelt of lavender polish and pine disinfectant.

‘Never mind, gal, it'll go off,' said Hetty, casting a gimlet eye over the seldom-used large sitting-room, which she was turning over to the guests for the duration of their stay. ‘Now you get off and see to this Max.'

Ben was showing Max over the theatre, which he had prepared according to the instructions sent down by the stage manager. As Libby entered the foyer, Peter appeared at the top of the spiral staircase which led to the sound and lighting box.

‘Our musical genius is here. Want to meet him?'