Light Thickens

Ngaio Marsh

Light Thickens

Dedication

For James Laurenson, who played The Thane

and for Helen Thomas (Holmes), who was his Lady, in the third production of the play

by The Canterbury University Players.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Peregrine Jay — Director, Dolphin Theatre

Emily Jay — His wife

Crispin, Robin, Richard — Their sons

A

Jeremy Jones — Designer, Dolphin Theatre

Winter Meyer — Dolphin business manager

Mrs. Abrams — Secretary

Bob Masters — Stage manager

Charlie — Assistant stage manager

Ernie James — Property Master

Na

Mrs. Smith — Mother of William

Lighting manager

Stage-door keeper

Restaurateur

SCOTLAND YARD

Roderick Alleyn — Chief Superintendent

Fox — Detective Inspector

Thompson — Detective Sergeant

Bailey — Detective Sergeant

Sir James Curtis — Pathologist

Chapter 1

FIRST WEEK

Peregrine Jay heard the stage door at the Dolphin open and shut and the sound of voices. The scene and costume designer and the lighting manager came through to the open stage. They wheeled out three specially built racks, unrolled their drawings, and pi

They were stu

The lighting manager showed a dozen big drawings of the various sets with the startling changes brought about by his craft. One of these was quite lovely: an opulent evening in front of the castle with the setting sun bathing everything in splendor. One felt the air to be calm, gentle, and full of the sound of wings. A heavenly evening. And then, next to it, the same scene with the enormous doors opened, a dark interior, torches, a piper, and the Lady in scarlet coming to welcome the fated visitor.

“Jeremy,” Peregrine said, “you’ve done us proud.”

“Okay?”

“It’s so right! It’s so bloody right. Here! Let’s up with the curtain. Jeremy?”

The designer went offstage and pressed a button. With a long-drawn-out sigh the curtain rose. The shrouded house waited.

“Light them, Jeremy! Blackout and lights on them. Can you?”

“It won’t be perfect but I’ll try.”

“Just for the hell of it, Jeremy.”

Jeremy laughed, moved the racks, and went to the lights console.

Peregrine walked through a pass-door to the front-of-house. Presently there was a total blackout, and then, after a pause, the drawings were suddenly there, alive in the midst of nothing and looking splendid.

“Only approximate, of course,” Jeremy said in the dark.

“Let’s keep this for the cast to see. They’re due now.”

“You don’t want to start them off with broken legs, do you?” asked the lighting manager.

There was an awkward pause.

“Well — no. Put on the light in the passage,” said Peregrine in a voice that was a shade too offhand. “No,” he shouted. “Bring down the curtain again, Jeremy. We’ll do it properly.”

The stage door was opened and more voices were heard, two women’s and a man’s. They came in exclaiming at the dark.

“All right, all right,” Peregrine called out cheerfully. “Stay where you are. Lights, Jeremy, would you? Just while people are coming in. Thank you. Come down in front, everybody. Watch how you go. Splendid.”

They came down. Margaret Ma

“Maggie, darling! It’s all meant to start us off with a bang, but I do apologize. No more steps. Here we are. Sit down in the front row. Nina! Are you all right? Come and sit down, love. Bruce! Welcome, indeed. I’m so glad you managed to fit us in with television.”

I’m putting it on a bit thick, he thought. Nerves! Here they all come. Steady now.

They arrived singly and in pairs, having met at the door. They greeted Peregrine and each other extravagantly or facetiously, and all of them asked why they were sitting in front and not onstage or in the rehearsal room. Peregrine kept count of heads. When they got to seventeen and then to nineteen he knew they were waiting for only one: the Thane.

He began again, counting them off. Simon Morten, Macduff. A magnificent figure, six feet two. Dark. Black eyes with a glitter, thick black hair that sprang in short-clipped curls from his skull. A smooth physique not yet ru

There was the Le

A loud and lovely voice and the bang of the stage door.

Peregrine hurried through the pass-door and up onto the stage.

“Dougal, my dear fellow, welcome,” he shouted.

“But I’m so sorry, dear boy. I’m afraid I’m a fraction late. Where is everybody?”

“In front. I’m not having a reading.”

“Not?”

“No. A few words about the play. The working drawings, and then away we go.”

“Really?”

“Come through. This way. Here we go.”

Peregrine led the way. “The Thane, everybody,” he a

It gave Sir Dougal Macdougal an entrance. He stood for a moment on the steps into the front-of-house, an apologetic grin transforming his face. Such a nice chap, he seemed to be saying, no upstage nonsense about him. Everybody loves everybody. Yes. He saw Margaret Ma

Peregrine stood with his back to the curtain, facing the company with whom he was about to take a journey. Always it felt like this. They had come aboard: they were about to take on other identities. In doing this something would happen to them all: new ingredients would be tried, accepted, or denied. Alongside them were the characters they must assume. They would come closer and if the casting was accurate, slide together. For the time they were onstage they would be one. So he held. And when the voyage was over they would all be again, as Peregrine thought, a little bit different.

He began talking to them.

“I’m not starting with a reading,” he said. “Readings are okay as far as they go for the major roles, but bit-parts are bit-parts and as far as the Gentlewoman and the Doctor are concerned, once they arrive they are bloody important, but their zeal won’t be set on fire by sitting around waiting for a couple of hours for their entrance.