Untouchable Things Page 16

  Anna snorted. The idea of Seth as Father Christmas was about as incongruous as it got. But, of course, that was the whole point of panto.

  “Who’s who then?”

  “Well, I thought you could all read the play first before we sort that out. Maybe a certain part will jump out at you.”

  Not straightforward slapstick, then. This was Seth, of course. Amidst the mutterings. Rebecca took herself off to a corner armchair and tried to focus on the words in front of her.

  Let’s get this straight, Seth Gardner wrote a pantomime for you all to perform?

  He did. I still have a copy, actually. Do you want to see it?

  If you have it to hand.

  Just a second… Sorry, that took longer than expected. Here it is.

  Thank you. Please go on for now.

  Well, I read it over and it did look as if certain parts matched certain people.

  For example?

  Well, King George sounded like Michael – a bit serious, you know. Moralistic and humourless. And Cinderella I assumed was Catherine.

  Because?

  Um – apparently she used to do Seth’s ironing and stuff. According to Anna.

  I see.

  And there was an elf, who had to be José… Because he’s gay?

  Er, yes. And Jake and the Beanstalk – Jake, of course – and the Princess in the land of theatre – well, me.

  It says here, ‘Dressed in sexy Santa suit.’

  Um, yes. So I thought.

  And Beauty and, let’s see, Gretel?

  I wasn’t sure. Though Gretel bingeing on gingerbread sounded a bit like Anna.

  Oh?

  Well, I don’t mean literally… well, she has food fads. And she loves sweet things. Right. So once you’d worked out your parts…No, that’s just it. We weren’t who we thought we would be.

  Seth stubbed out his cigarette. “All finished reading it through? Now, these are your parts. Based on her superior experience, Rebecca will take the part of King George.”

  Rebecca swallowed.

  “Cinderella will be played by Michael,” a small ripple, “Charles will be my elf,” a louder ripple, “Jake will make an exquisite Beauty,” a wink from the big man, “Anna can do her bawdy best as Jake and the Beanstalk, José can blow his weekly calorie count as Gretel and Catherine can be Princess for a day.” Catherine’s eyes grew wide.

  A moment’s silence and then Seth repeated the parts.

  “Are these parts supposed to represent us? You’ve lost me.” José’s confusion was mirrored in the faces around him.

  “Let’s say you’re not necessarily playing yourselves. Trust me, this will add to the fun. And in the true tradition of Christmas, I hope there’ll be something for everyone to take home with them.”

  Scene 6

  So he was deliberately confusing you. One could say playing with you.

  Yes, but there was usually a point with Seth.

  Rebecca wished there was more food and less grog in her stomach. She was used to experimenting with roles in a theatre, but this multi-layering was messing with her mind. And she was the main part. Playing King George, aka Michael.

  Seth stood up. “Now come and get your costumes.”

  She was covered head to toe in faux chainmail, hot and hard to move in, with a visored helmet over her head. What made it worse was that Catherine, in the sexy Santa suit that should have been hers, was exposing surprisingly good legs. She even got a wolf whistle from Jake. Catherine was one of those women who didn’t know how to make the most of herself. Her hair hung around her shoulders, of nondescript colour and style. A few highlights, a haircut, and a new wardrobe would probably make her quite pretty.

  Dressing the boys as girls was fun and recovered a bit of the jollity. Michael looked comically uncomfortable in his raggedy dress with thin hairy legs poking out the bottom. Jake was enjoying himself with her lipstick and José looked rather stunning with his eyes made up. Funniest of all was Charles in tights, lederhosen and a pointy hat.

  Anna was pleased with her beanstalk, a giant phallic appendage, some sort of balloon. A hirsute, well-cushioned Seth summoned them back to the drawing room, which now had a cleared stage area with screens running down the sides. Miraculously, the space had been turned into a small theatre.

  “Now, you should all sit in the audience until your character is about to enter, then slip behind the screen and come on. All the props you need should be tucked away back there. Shall we start?”

  Everyone sat on the chairs in front of the ‘stage’ apart from Rebecca and Seth. Three booming knocks were heard from the wings and then Seth stepped forwards.

  “In comes I, old Father Christmas,

  Compere of the evening’s games.

  You may know my many faces,

  But you may not know my name.

  Some folk call me old Saint Nick,

  Kris Kringle, sometimes Père Nöel;

  Santa Claus across the water,

  See Old Winter, hear his bell.”

  Only Seth could transform Father Christmas from a jolly old benefactor to a mysterious, even sinister enigma. Rebecca stepped forward to the sound of a bell.

  “In comes I, your good King George

  In search of monsters to be slain;

  Fierce and green with tongue obscene

  And preferably exhaling flames.”

  She looked around, waving her sword.

  “None such here; a disappointment,

  No fair maiden to be saved.

  On I go with sword erect

  To find the wicked dragon’s cave.”

  She hammed up the sword erect gags: this was familiar panto territory. Father Christmas stepped forward again to three knocks.

  “But who comes here? A ragamuffin!

  Dirty hair and faded bloom.

  A scully maid and yet a child,

  She clutches to that witch’s broom.”

  On walked Michael complete with hairnet and mop. The whole place fell about.

  “Oh, woe is me! I never stop,

  I have to clean and sweep and mop

  Which leaves no time to find a fella –

  Pity poor old Cinderella!”

  Rebecca saw how clever Seth had been now. If Catherine had played Cinderella it would have been too close to the bone. This way, watching Michael in drag reaching for a feather duster, it was just pure comedy. It looked as though he was starting to enjoy himself, addressing the audience as she approached.

  “But who comes here without a horse?

  His upright sword is most disarming!

  Makes me quite forget my chores –

  Perhaps, at last, it’s my Prince Charming!”

  He batted his eyelashes in her direction. “Greetings, Sir Knight.”

  Rebecca faced Michael, trying to keep her face straight. “Greetings, fair maiden. What services may I perform for you?”

  Michael raised his eyebrows to the audience. “What, already?” More titters.

  Who knew Michael could do innuendo?

  * * * * *

  Catherine clapped with the rest. The forced smile was beginning to hurt and she bent over for her glass of water. Was that supposed to be her, then? Certainly that’s what Anna and José thought. Was Seth making fun of her or was it just supposed to be a joke?

  * * * * *

  José folded his arms and prepared himself for the next section. Three loud knocks and the crimson beanbag that was Seth stepped forward.

  “So onwards rides our steadfast knight

  With not a dragon’s tail in sight

  Until he meets a little chappie,

  Short and sweet and gay and happy.”

  Anna dug him in the ribs as Charles skipped onto stage in his lederhosen, hands outstretched like a penguin’s wings.

  “Here am I a merry elf,

  Never thinking of himself,

  Never low and never listless,

  Singing songs for Father Christmas.”

  Anna was
nearly wetting herself. Even the professional, Rebecca, was hiding her chuckles behind the lid thing on her helmet as she looked down at her script for the next line. She asked if he’d seen any dragons.

  Charles bowed. “Greetings, my Lord. I have not seen a dragon for many a year.”

  “Pity. Still, there must be one around here somewhere. You seem like a jolly chap. Do you want to help me in my search?”

  Charles shook his head.

  “Sadly, Lord, my present contract

  Means I may serve but one master.

  Were I to renege on this

  It would spell sure career disaster.”

  Rebecca patted his arm. “Oh dear, bit of an ogre, your boss?”

  Charles looked round in alarm. “An ogre? Where?”

  “Hush, timid elf. Not a real ogre.”

  The elf wiped his brow. “Phew. I once sold myself to an ogre. It wasn’t pretty.”

  King George nodded. “Ugly creatures, so I’ve heard.” A few chuckles. “But why sell yourself?”

  Charles’ eyes were wide. “How would I live otherwise? At least my current owner provides for me, stops me going back on the streets.” He looked around nervously. “I must not say more. My master hears everything. Ernie must go. Good luck in your search.”

  The audience laughed and Anna leaned over. “Who would have thought Charles could be so camp?” José concentrated on trying to slow his breathing, realising his palms were clammy on his knees. How fucking dare he? Parade his knowledge like that, taunt him with it, shove it in his face. And that stuff about serving one master – Seth must know that he was still in love with him.

  He closed his eyes. On the other hand, couldn’t it apply to all of them? Wasn’t that why they were all here – to serve one master? He opened his eyes to Jake mincing onstage in a yellow, frilly dress. He forced a smile back at Anna. Maybe it was just a bit of fun.

  * * * * *

  Charles took his seat back in the audience, slightly out of breath, and acknowledged the back slaps with a grin. He’d always wondered about amateur dramatics. Maybe he could join a group after Christmas. He looked around. Another group, God, he’d have to be mad.

  Rebecca was brandishing her sword towards the weeping Jake.

  “Hail, good lady, good King George

  Who pays no court to fun or feast

  Will help you in your hour of need

  And hunt and slay the dreadful beast.”

  Jake swooned.

  “Kill the beast? No, no, I beseech you, do not. He is a good beast, though he looks fearsome.”

  Jake continued in a squeaky voice.

  “Good my knight, my name is Beauty,

  Strive I to fulfil my duty

  But now my heart doth bleed and blister

  And I am torn ’tween love and sister.”

  Charles stiffened in his chair and frowned.

  “Whatever do you mean? Take me to the dragon at once!”

  “Dragon? There is no dragon, my Lord.

  Only a beast so kind and tender

  That with a smile he doth render

  Himself a shining prince to me.

  My sisters say I must leave him be.”

  Charles flicked his gaze towards Seth, inscrutable under his cotton wool beard. Was this supposed to be a dig, a reference to Sarah, the way he looked out for her? She’d not been well again lately. A couple of times he’d made soup and taken it over in portion-sized tupperwares. Sarah-sized portions. He hadn’t mentioned anything to Seth, though. He never mentioned her name in front of Seth.

  King George had ascertained that the Beast was no dragon and said his goodbyes to Beauty.

  “How strange this quest is now becoming,

  So many people in such strife,

  Such tears and fears and lack of cheer

  Without a dragon in their life!”

  Charles shivered unexpectedly. It was a good time for Anna to enter, waving her inflated ‘beanstalk’ in front of her. Rebecca gasped.

  “Saints alive, what travesty is this?”

  Anna leered at her.

  “Travesty? This ain’t no travesty, mate.” It was a pretty good Cockney accent. “But if it’s a tapestry you’re after I can get you one proper cheap, that big French one, top-class fake, no one would know.”

  “Not a tapestry, you fool, a trav – oh, it doesn’t matter. Who are you and what is your business?”

  “Jolly Jake it is my name

  And jolly jape, it is my game.

  I don’t talk posh like kings and queens talk

  But folks admire me for my beanstalk!”

  Anna swung the beanstalk wildly. “Why, surely you’ve ’eard of Jake and the Beanstalk, guv’nor?”

  * * * * *

  It could have been Lester talking. Jake knew he was watching a portrayal of himself but he felt like he was watching his mum’s old boyfriend, the only one who’d stuck around long enough to become a role model. It was like someone holding up a mirror, to show him how much he’d modelled himself on Lester – his patter, the dodgy buying and selling, the banter.

  “Sold the owd lady’s cow, din’ I, in return for these beans. Magic beans, if you know what I mean, eh? Nudge nudge, wink wink.”

  Jake grinned at the obvious reference to the pills he scored for Seth from time to time. At least Lester had been kind. He’d taken Jake under his wing, even taught him to cook a bit. But this barrow boy stuff in Anna’s terrible accent – was that really him? Was he just a walking cliché, a laughing stock? He tightened his hand on his glass and glanced over at the clock on the sideboard. Things were running to plan. Should be finished by 10, just as he’d said.

  * * * * *

  When could he take this ridiculous dress off? It felt about 100 degrees in the room with the fire still burning high. Michael’s stomach tightened as he watched the stage. It had been okay for a while prancing around with cleaning equipment, he’d done his bit, but it appeared there was more sport to be had at his expense. Anna was talking about magic beans to Rebecca’s King George – the character he assumed was modelled on him.

  “Well, they growed me a bloody enormous beanstalk, didn’t they? See for yourself. Have a feel, mate.” Anna waved the ludicrously phallic beanstalk. Michael squirmed in his chair.

  “I most certainly will not.”

  Anna-as-Jake moved closer to King George. “It’s what’s on the end that excites me most.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I had a bit of an explore up there once and the whole thing starts shaking doesn’ it, and there was ’eavy breathing, the lot!”

  The audience chortled as King George’s eyes lit up.

  “Good heavens. Could it be – a dragon?”

  “Don’t think it was no dragon, though it did get pretty ’ot up there. Is that your thing then, dragons?”

  King George waved his flag.

  “Good King George will never tire

  Till he’s put out the dragon’s fire.

  Its teeth will shatter, its blood will splatter,

  Its eyes will – oh, it doesn’t matter.”

  Anna looked down at the script and then frowned. “Whatever’s wrong, Squire?”

  King George had slumped. “Nothing. It’s just, well, no one seems to care about dragons anymore and I can’t find one anywhere. Maybe I just need to accept it isn’t a job for life anymore and change field.”

  Anna put her hands on her hips. “Don’t be downhearted now, sir. Why I ’eard only last week about a princess ’o’d been captured by a dragon.”

  “You did? Where? That’s wonderful news. I mean, obviously…”

  “Don’t worry, I understand you, guv. But I’m afraid I don’t know where the dragon is. You could always start by lookin’ up this beanstalk, sir?”

  Anna held out her beanstalk eagerly.

  “I don’t know… perhaps I should…” King George put out his hand tentatively. “No, I will venture east first. My dragon radar is starting to throb.
Farewell, Jake with the Beanstalk.”

  Michael crossed his legs. It was bad enough being portrayed as a do-gooder with no sense of humour but this was taking it too far. Another dig from Seth to show that Glyndebourne night was not forgotten. Had anyone else caught onto the subtext? Did anyone else know?

  * * * * *

  Anna, minus beanstalk, flopped down on one of the chairs. Thank God her bit was over. Or was it? She laughed with everyone else as José entered as Gretel, stuffing a cake into his mouth, his words indistinguishable as crumbs flew everywhere. Cheeky swines, him and Seth. At least she could laugh at herself.

  Rebecca as King George was looking appalled.

  “I pray, dear lady, do not gorge

  For I am abstinent King George.

  It’s hard for me to stay acetic

  When I wish to have your cake and eat it.”

  Gretel handed King George a cake, who bit it and then spat it out. Gretel looked upset.

  “Good my Lord, I beg your pardon

  I did not mean to give you a hard one!”

  In true panto spirit – she’d known this stuff would be up José’s street – he looked around to get the laugh.

  “My name is Gretel and, with my brother,

  We’re prisoners of a wicked other.”

  King George leaned in. “A dragon, perchance?”

  “Witch, I’m afraid. Long nose, pointy hat, the works. She’s forcing us to spend our days eating candy and gingerbread. It’s terrible.”

  Gretel-José stuffed another cake in. Maybe he’d negotiated low-fat muffins with Seth.

  “This truly is dreadful. Surely you can escape and return home?”

  A shake of the head. “Never. My father married again and Hansel and I fled from our stepmother. Then the witch caught us. On balance I’d rather be with her.”

  Anna gulped her grog. Seth had made his point about her going home many times; now it was starting to feel like a lecture. Was it obvious to the others? Wicked stepmother, panto – perhaps not.

  At last Gretel exited and three knocks heralded the return of Father Christmas, surely even hotter than Rebecca in his padded suit.

  “For weeks and months our saintly king

  Did tirelessly pursue his prey

  Till word of mouth propelled him

  To a gaudy kingdom far away.”

  King George entered. “Why, what land is this? Bedecked with tinsel and huge pink murals. Surely a dragon cannot be hiding here?”