cb.booksofblood-第27部分

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　　〃…and　she　feels　she　could　breathe　a　little　more　life　into　the　role　than　you。〃
　　〃We　open　tomorrow；〃　she　found　herself　replying；　as　though　defending　her　presence。　Why　the　hell　was　she　trying　to　reason　with　him；　barging　in　here　and　making　these　terrible　remarks。　Maybe　because　she　was　just　a　little　afraid。　His　breath；　close　to　her　now；　smelt　of　expensive　chocolate。
　　〃She　knows　the　role　by　heart。〃
　　〃The　part's　mine。　And　I'm　doing　it。　I'm　doing　it　even　if　I'm　the　worst　Viola　in　theatrical　history；　all　right？〃　She　was　trying　to　keep　her　posure；　but　it　was　difficult。　Something　about　him　made　her　nervous。　It　wasn't　violence　she　feared　from　him：　but　she　feared　something。
　　〃I'm　afraid　I　have　already　promised　the　part　to　my　wife。〃
　　〃What？〃　she　goggled　at　his　arrogance。
　　〃And　Constantia　will　play　the　role。〃　She　laughed　at　the　name。　Maybe　this　was　high　edy　after　all。　Something　from　Sheridan　or　Wilde；　arch；　catty　stuff。　But　he　spoke　with　such　absolute　certainty。　Constantia　will　play　the　role；　as　if　it　was　all　cut　and　dried。
　　〃I'm　not　discussing　this　any　longer；　Buster；　so　if　your　wife　wants　to　play　Viola　she'll　have　to　do　it　in　the　fucking　street。　All　right？〃
　　〃She　opens　tomorrow。〃
　　〃Are　you　deaf；　or　stupid；　or　both？〃　Control；　an　inner　voice　told　her；　you're　overplaying；　losing　your　grip　on　the　scene。　Whatever　scene　this　is。
　　He　stepped　towards　her；　and　the　mirror　lights　caught　the　face　beneath　the　brim　full　on。　She　hadn't　looked　carefully　enough　when　he　first　made　his　appearance：　now　she　saw　the　deeply…etched　lines；　the　gougings　around　his　eyes　and　his　mouth。　It　wasn't　flesh；　she　was　sure　of　it。　He　was　wearing　latex　appliances；　and　they　were　badly　glued　in　place。　Her　hand　all　but　twitched　with　the　desire　to　snatch　at　it　and　uncover　his　real　face。
　　Of　course。　That　was　it。　The　scene　she　was　playing：　the　Unmasking。
　　〃Let's　see　what　you　look　like；〃　she　said；　and　her　hand　was　at　his　cheek　before　he　could　stop　her；　his　smile　spreading　wider　as　she　attacked。　This　is　what　he　wants；　she　thought；　but　it　was　too　late　for　regrets　or　apologies。　Her　fingertips　had　found　the　line　of　the　mask　at　the　edge　of　his　eye…socket；　and　curled　round　to　take　a　better　hold。　She　yanked。
　　The　thin　veil　of　latex　came　away；　and　his　true　physiognomy　was　exposed　for　the　world　to　see。　Diane　tried　to　back　away；　but　his　hand　was　in　her　hair。　All　she　could　do　was　look　up　into　that　all…but　fleshless　face。　A　few　withered　strands　of　muscle　curled　here　and　there；　and　a　hint　of　a　beard　hung　from　a　leathery　flap　at　his　throat；　but　all　living　tissue　had　long　since　decayed。　Most　of　his　face　was　simply　bone：　stained　and　worn。
　　〃I　was　not；〃　said　the　skull；　〃embalmed。　Unlike　Constantia。〃　The　explanation　escaped　Diane。　She　made　no　sound　of　protest；　which　the　scene　would　surely　have　justified。　All　she　could　summon　was　a　whimper　as　his　hand…hold　tightened；　and　he　hauled　her　head　back。
　　〃We　must　make　a　choice；　sooner　or　later；〃　said　Lichfield；　his　breath　smelling　less　like　chocolate　than　profound　putrescence；　〃between　serving　ourselves　and　serving　our　art。〃　She　didn't　quite　understand。
　　〃The　dead　must　choose　more　carefully　than　the　living。　We　cannot　waste　our　breath；　if　you'll　excuse　the　phrase；　on　less　than　the　purest　delights。　You　don't　want　art；　I　think。　Do　you？〃　She　shook　her　head；　hoping　to　God　that　was　the　expected　response。
　　〃You　want　the　life　of　the　body；　not　the　life　of　the　imagination。　And　you　may　have　it。〃
　　〃Thank。。。　you。〃
　　〃If　you　want　it　enough；　you　may　have　it。〃　Suddenly　his　hand；　which　had　been　pulling　on　her　hair　so　painfully；　was　cupped　behind　her　head；　and　bringing　her　lips　up　to　meet　his。　She　would　have　screamed　then；　as　his　rotting　mouth　fastened　itself　on　to　hers；　but　his　greeting　was　so　insistent　it　quite　took　her　breath　away。
　　
　　Ryan　found　Diane　on　the　floor　of　her　dressing…room　a　few　minutes　before　two。　It　was　difficult　to　work　out　what　had　happened。　There　was　no　sign　of　a　wound　of　any　kind　on　her　head　or　body；　nor　was　she　quite　dead。　She　seemed　to　be　in　a　a　of　some　kind。　She　had　perhaps　slipped；　and　struck　her　head　as　she　fell。　Whatever　the　cause；　she　was　out　for　the　count。
　　They　were　hours　away　from　a　Final　Dress　Rehearsal　and　Viola　was　in　an　ambulance；　being　taken　into　Intensive　Care。
　　
　　〃The　sooner　they　knock　this　place　down；　the　better；〃　said　Hammersmith。　He'd　been　drinking　during　office　hours；　something　Galloway　had　never　seen　him　do　before。　The　whisky　bottle　stood　on　his　desk　beside　a　half…full　glass。　There　were　glass…marks　ringing　his　accounts；　and　his　hand　had　a　bad　dose　of　the　shakes。
　　〃What's　the　news　from　the　hospital？〃
　　〃She's　a　beautiful　woman；〃　he　said；　staring　at　the　glass。　Galloway　could　have　sworn　he　was　on　the　verge　of　tears。
　　〃Hammersmith？　How　is　she？〃
　　〃She's　in　a　a。　But　her　condition　is　stable。〃
　　〃That's　something；　I　suppose。〃　Hammersmith　stared　up　at　Galloway；　his　erupting　brows　knitted　in　anger。
　　〃You　runt；〃　he　said；　〃you　were　screwing　her；　weren't　you？　Fancy　yourself　like　that；　don't　you？　Well；　let　me　tell　you　something；　Diane　Duvall　is　worth　a　dozen　of　you。　A　dozen！〃
　　〃Is　that　why　you　let　this　last　production　go　on；　Hammersmith？　Because　you'd　seen　her；　and　you　wanted　to　get　your　hot　little　hands　on　her？〃
　　〃You　wouldn't　understand。　You've　got　your　brain　in　your　pants。〃　He　seemed　genuinely　offended　by　the　interpretation　Galloway　had　put　on　his　admiration　for　Miss　Duvall。
　　〃All　right；　have　it　your　way。　We　still　have　no　Viola。〃
　　〃That's　why　I'm　cancelling；〃　said　Hammersmith；　slowing　down　to　savour　the　moment。
　　It　had　to　e。　Without　Diane　Duvall；　there　would　be　no　Twelfth　Night；　and　maybe　it　was　better　that　way。
　　A　knock　on　the　door。
　　〃Who　the　fuck's　that？〃　said　Hammersmith　softly。　〃e。〃　It　was　Lichfield。　Galloway　was　almost　glad　to　see　that　strange；　scarred　face。　Though　he　had　a　lot　of　questions　to　ask　of　Lichfield；　about　the　state　he'd　left　Diane　in；　about　their　conversation　together；　it　wasn't　an　interview　he　was　willing　to　conduct　in　front　of　Hammersmith。　Besides；　any　half…formed　accusations　he　might　have　had　were　countered　by　the　man's　presence　here。　If　Lichfield　had　attempted　violence　on　Diane；　for　whatever　reason；　was　it　likely　that　he　would　e　back　so　soon；　so　smilingly？
　　〃Who　are　you？〃　Hammersmith　demanded。
　　〃Richard　Walden　Lichfield。〃
　　〃I'm　none　the　wiser。〃
　　〃I　used　to　be　a　trustee　of　the　Elysium。〃
　　〃Oh。〃
　　〃I　make　it　my　business…；　〃What　do　you　want？〃　Hammersmith　broke　in；　irritated　by　Lichfield's　poise。
　　〃I　hear　the　production　is　in　jeopardy；〃　Lichfield　replied；　unruffled。
　　〃No　jeopardy；〃　said　Hammersmith；　allowing　himself　a　twitch　at　the　corner　of　his　mouth。　〃No　jeopardy　at　all；　because　there's　no　show。　It's　been　cancelled。〃
　　〃Oh？〃　Lichfield　looked　at　Galloway。
　　〃Is　this　with　your　consent？〃　he　asked。
　　〃He　has　no　say　in　the　matter；　I　have　sole　right　of　cancellation　if　circumstances　dictate　it；　it's　in　his　contract。　The　theatre　is　closed　as　of　today：　it　will　not　reopen。〃
　　〃Yes　it　will；〃　said　Lichfield。
　　〃What？〃　Hammersmith　stood　up　behind　his　desk；　and　Galloway　realized　he'd　never　seen　the　man　standing　before。　He　was　very　short。
　　〃We　will　play　Twelfth　Night　as　advertised；〃　Lichfield　purred。　〃My　wife　has　kindly　agreed　to　understudy　the　part　of　Viola　in　place　of　Miss　Duvall。〃　Hammersmith　laughed；　a　coarse；　butcher's　laugh。　It　died　on　his　lips　however；　as　the　office　was　suffused　with　lavender；　and　Constantia　Lichfield　made　her　entrance；　shimmering　in　silk　and　fur。　She　looked　as　perfect　as　the　day　she　died：　even　Hammersmith　held　his　breath　and　his　silence　at　the　sight　of　her。
　　〃Our　new　Viola；〃　Lichfield　announced。
　　After　a　moment　Hammersmith　found　his　voice。　〃This　woman　can't　step　in　at　half　a　day's　notice。〃
　　〃Why　not？〃　said　Galloway；　not　taking　his　eyes　off　the　woman。　Lichfield　was　a　lucky　man；　Constantia　was　an　extraordinary　beauty。　He　scarcely　dared　draw　breath　in　her　presence　for　fear　she'd　vanish。
　　Then　she　spoke。　The　lines　were　from　Act　V；　Scene　I：　〃If　nothing　lets　to　make　us　happy　both　But　this　my　masculine　usurp'd　attire；　Do　not　embrace　me　till　each　circumstance　Of　place；　time；　fortune；　do　cohere　and　jump　That　I　am　Viola。〃　The　voice　was　light　and　musical；　but　it　seemed　to　resound　in　her　body；　filling　each　phrase　with　an　undercurrent　of　suppressed　passion。
　　And　that　face。　It　was　wonderfully　alive；　the　features　playing　the　story　of　her　speech　with　delicate　economy。
　　She　was　enchanting。
　　〃I'm　sorry；〃　said　Hammersmith；　〃but　there　are　rules　and　regulations　about　this　sort　of　thing。　Is　she　Equity？〃
　　〃No；〃　said　Lichfield。
　　〃Well　you　see；　it's　impossible。　The　union　strictly　precludes　this　kind　of　thing。　They'd　flay　us　alive。〃
　　〃What's　it　to　you；　Hammersmith？〃　said　Galloway。　〃What　the　fuck　do　you　care？　You'll　never　need　set　foot　in　a　theatre　again　once　this　place　is　demolished。〃
　　〃My　wife　has　watched　the　rehearsals。　She　is　word　perfect。〃
　　〃It　could　be　magic；〃　said　Galloway；　his　enthusiasm　firing　up　with　every　moment　he　looked　at　Constantia。
　　〃You're　risking　the　Union；　Galloway；〃　Hammersmith　chided。
　　〃I'll　take　that　risk。〃
　　〃As　you　say；　it's　nothing　to　me。　But　if　a　little　bird　was　to　tell　them；　yo