The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin Read Free Book Online Page A

I’ve
got
to get a ’cello from somewhere for next week.’ She disappeared down the gangway.
    â€˜Frankly,’ said Donald, ‘that girl’s a nuisance.’
    Something in his
sans façon
, man-of-the-world tone suddenly irritated Nigel.
    â€˜I thought her charming,’ he said shortly, and went off down the gangway to see Robert, who was on the stage talking to the scenic designer and the stage manager.
    The company had melted away like magic, the women to the green room for coffee, the men for the most part to the ‘Aston Arms’ across the road. Robert greeted Nigel a little absently.
    â€˜I imagine you’re finding this very dull,’ he said.
    â€˜Good heavens, no. It’s fascinating. And a very’ – Nigelhesitated for a moment over the adjective – ‘delightful play, if I may say so.’
    â€˜I’m glad you like it.’ Robert seemed genuinely pleased. ‘But of course, this is only the skeleton of the whole thing. No business, no props. But the company’s much better than I dared hope. If only they can be induced to learn their lines!’
    Nigel was surprised. ‘Are they likely not to?’ he asked.
    â€˜I gather one or two of them make a point of drying about six times every night until the Friday. However, we shall see. Are you having coffee?’
    â€˜If I shan’t be drinking someone else’s.’
    â€˜Good Lord, no. Do you know where the green room is? If you don’t, Jane will show you. I’ll be down in a minute. We can’t afford to break for long, I’m afraid.’
    â€˜Coming?’ said Jane, who was a slim, attractive young woman of twenty or thereabouts.
    â€˜Right,’ said Nigel, and looked round a little guiltily for Donald. But he had disappeared.
    As they went out backstage, Nigel looked curiously about him, at the big electrician’s gallery in the prompt corner, the flats stacked against the walls, and the circular line which marked the edge of the revolving stage. The backs of the flats, he noticed, were scrawled with pictures of animals, caricatures of members of the company, and lines from past plays – relics of a sudden exuberance before an entrance or at a dress rehearsal. Even in repertory, with a new play every week, the excitement of a first night never becomes insipid.
    They went out of a swing door at the back (carefully sprung and padded to prevent banging) and up a short flight of stone stairs to the green room.
    â€˜Were you here for Yseut’s song?’ asked Jane.
    â€˜I was, actually.’
    â€˜And you liked it?’
    â€˜Very much,’ he said, not without truth.
    â€˜I’m understudying for her, and I’m terrified I shall have to do it. I can’t really sing a note, but Robert asked me to, so I suppose he anyway thinks I can. But it’s going to be a bore having to learn lines for a thousand-to-one possibility.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Nigel non-committally; be was thinking of Helen, who had not appeared in the first act. He added: ‘I suppose Helen Haskell’s on at the beginning of the second act?’
    â€˜Helen? Yes, that’s right, dear. She’ll probably be in the green room now.’
    Nigel was slightly taken aback. He was not yet used to the vague and indiscriminate terms of endearment which fly about in the theatre.
    They entered the green room. It was tolerably full, and Jane was some time getting him some coffee. Having presented it to him, she abruptly disappeared, leaving him to his own devices.
    It slightly hurt his vanity to find that nobody took any notice of him. But he saw Helen sitting by herself looking at a copy of
Metromania
, and decided to take the bull by the horns. He went over and sat down beside her.
    â€˜Hello!’ he said, not without some trepidation.
    â€˜Hello!’ she replied, giving him a charming smile.
    â€˜I hope I’m not interrupting you learning your