The Parliament of Blood by Justin Richards Read Free Book Online

posters announced: ‘Traditional Music Hall – Late House. This Week Only’.
    The door was heavy but opened easily to allow Liz into the dimly lit foyer. She stood on the dark red carpet and looked round. It was all far more ornate and splendid than the small Chistleton Theatre where she helped with productions whenever she could.
    A uniformed attendant was standing beside the ticket booth at the side of the foyer. ‘Late house isn’t till ten,’ he said gruffly, handlebar moustache twitching as he spoke. ‘Doors open nine-thirty.’ He sniffed and checked his pocket watch. ‘That isn’t for over two hours.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ Liz said nervously. ‘But I’m not here for the late house.’
    â€˜Advance sales from eleven till five,’ the man responded, still examining his watch.
    â€˜Mr Malvern invited me – to watch the rehearsal.’
    The watch disappeared, and the moustache moved slightly to reveal a toothy smile. ‘Then you must be Miss Oldfield. This way, please.’
    He led her through to the auditorium and then left Liz to fend for herself. She was at the back of the enormous theatre and the stage seemed miles away. She was impressed at how clearly she could hear Malvern and theother actors as they went through a scene of the play. Liz settled herself into a seat at the end of the centre block about halfway to the stage.
    The scene was played out between just two people. The other actors stood in front of the stage or sat in the front row as they watched, and occasionally Malvern asked them what they thought about the clarity of diction or the blocking of the action on the stage. Despite the constant stopping and restarting as they refined their performance, Liz was soon caught up in it all.
    It was a moment in the play where Marguerite Gautier tells her lover Armand Duval that she cannot see him again. Liz knew the story from Dumas’s novel,
La Dame aux Camélias
. She knew that Marguerite was still in love with Armand, but had been persuaded by the man’s father that it was best if she broke off the relationship. Marguerite was a well-known courtesan – based on a woman that Dumas had himself loved.
    And like Dumas’s own lover, Marguerite was destined to die a slow, wasting death from consumption. But that was not for many scenes yet. The spark of love between Marguerite and Armand would still be there, tragically, as she died …
    Malvern was of course playing Armand Duval, combining fury and disappointment with his passion as Marguerite dismissed him. As Marguerite, Marie Cuttler was cold and aloof but with an underlying depth of emotion that brought tears to Liz’s eyes. The actress was pale, but with a slight blush to her cheeks that heightened theemotion of the scene still further. Watching them act, Liz was sure that this was what she herself wanted to do. And inside, she despaired at ever aspiring to the levels of talent displayed in front of her.
    As the scene closed, Armand turned on his heel and left. The door closed behind him, and Marguerite collapsed to the floor in tears she had not been able to cry while the man she loved was present. As one, the actors in front of the stage applauded, and Liz found that she was clapping with them – laughing and crying at the same time.
    Malvern returned to the stage, smiling, and took a short bow before helping Marie Cuttler to her feet. The actress dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and smiled her own appreciation. Liz marvelled at how she could turn such passionate emotion up and down like a gas lamp.
    â€˜I think that will suffice for this evening,’ Malvern announced. ‘Thank you to those who stayed when they did not need to. I certainly value your comments, your support, and your appreciation and I imagine Marie does too.’
    â€˜Oh, I do. My colleagues are always my best critics,’ Marie said.
    Everyone laughed politely, and the