your flight and fix you up with accommodation.'
It sounded like the best offer I’d had in months, but something made me hesitate.
'I don’t know, Richard. It’s a bit out of the blue.'
'Remember what they say about gift horses.'
'Don’t take one from a Trojan?'
'It’s up to you, but there’s nothing much on the cards for you over here right now.' There was a short pause while we both silently mourned my early promise. 'I spoke to the boy in Berlin and it all seems kosher, they’ve got a website and all that jazz.'
'Your faith in modern technology is touching.'
'Got to move with the times, Will.' There was another pause while I took a sip of my coffee and Rich sparked up; I heard him draw the smoke deep down into his lungs and reached for my own pack of cigarettes. When he spoke again Rich’s voice was brisk. I imagined him sliding his next client’s folder, complete with mug shot, onto the desk in front of him. 'It’s up to you, old son. You’ve got an hour to decide. No skin off my nose either way.'
I looked at my one-room rented flat, the unmade bed, the scattering of books and CDs, the pile of unwashed laundry, the red demands propped on the window ledge. There was only one thing I had to ask.
'When do they want me?'
'That’s the attitude. They’re in a rush. Someone let them down. Get yourself there by tomorrow show time and the job’s yours.'
I agreed to let Mrs Pierce arrange my flight then sat for a while looking at Bill’s secret. I decided it was nothing to do with me. Then I did a very stupid thing. I wrote a short letter, went out to the post office, bought an envelope big enough to hold Bill’s, sealed it securely and got it weighed and stamped. Then I addressed it to the safest place in the world and put it in the postbox.
Back home I put the kettle on, smoked another fag and started to pack.
Berlin
THE MAN WHO ran the cabaret was a German called Ray. He was the opposite of Bill, a soft-bellied doughy-faced rectangle of a man. He had blond hair shot through with grey flecks that looked too artful to be natural. And a tense smile hedged beneath a shaggy moustache I was willing to accept as German fashion, but at home would have made me think he was a gay man on a retro kick.
I put out my hand and he took it hesitantly, giving it the briefest of shakes.
'How was your journey?'
'Fine.'
Ray nodded. 'Good.' He looked me up and down. 'I’d hoped you’d be able to perform in our opening number with the rest of the ensemble but …’ He shook his head sadly and smiled like a man who had faced enough disappointments to know that he would face many more. 'Never mind.'
'Try me.'
He shook his head.
'We will manage. So, I guess the first thing is to show you around the theatre.' I followed him from the tiny ticket office and out into the auditorium. 'This is our hall.'
Ray paused, waiting for my reaction at my first glimpse of his kingdom.
I’m used to the abandoned atmosphere empty theatres take on during the day. Deserted by audiences they lose their sheen. When the house lights go up the grandest chandeliers can look cobwebbed, the finest gold-framed mirrors age-spotted and marred. The red velvet seats where theatregoers dream themselves onto the stage night after night reveal frayed gold trim and balding nap. But I knew that, like the leading man who arrives grey-stubbled and sour-breathed, or the femme fatale who dares to bare her pockmarked face to afternoon rehearsals, come curtain-up great theatres are ready to wow them all the way to the gods.
Still, I had my doubts about the Schall und Rauch. When I’d called him back to accept the gig Rich had built the revue into something between the Royal Festival Hall and the Hot Club of France. I’d known he was exaggerating, but I hadn’t realised how much.
The auditorium smelt of mildew, tobacco and wet coats. Its dirty pine
It sounded like the best offer I’d had in months, but something made me hesitate.
'I don’t know, Richard. It’s a bit out of the blue.'
'Remember what they say about gift horses.'
'Don’t take one from a Trojan?'
'It’s up to you, but there’s nothing much on the cards for you over here right now.' There was a short pause while we both silently mourned my early promise. 'I spoke to the boy in Berlin and it all seems kosher, they’ve got a website and all that jazz.'
'Your faith in modern technology is touching.'
'Got to move with the times, Will.' There was another pause while I took a sip of my coffee and Rich sparked up; I heard him draw the smoke deep down into his lungs and reached for my own pack of cigarettes. When he spoke again Rich’s voice was brisk. I imagined him sliding his next client’s folder, complete with mug shot, onto the desk in front of him. 'It’s up to you, old son. You’ve got an hour to decide. No skin off my nose either way.'
I looked at my one-room rented flat, the unmade bed, the scattering of books and CDs, the pile of unwashed laundry, the red demands propped on the window ledge. There was only one thing I had to ask.
'When do they want me?'
'That’s the attitude. They’re in a rush. Someone let them down. Get yourself there by tomorrow show time and the job’s yours.'
I agreed to let Mrs Pierce arrange my flight then sat for a while looking at Bill’s secret. I decided it was nothing to do with me. Then I did a very stupid thing. I wrote a short letter, went out to the post office, bought an envelope big enough to hold Bill’s, sealed it securely and got it weighed and stamped. Then I addressed it to the safest place in the world and put it in the postbox.
Back home I put the kettle on, smoked another fag and started to pack.
Berlin
THE MAN WHO ran the cabaret was a German called Ray. He was the opposite of Bill, a soft-bellied doughy-faced rectangle of a man. He had blond hair shot through with grey flecks that looked too artful to be natural. And a tense smile hedged beneath a shaggy moustache I was willing to accept as German fashion, but at home would have made me think he was a gay man on a retro kick.
I put out my hand and he took it hesitantly, giving it the briefest of shakes.
'How was your journey?'
'Fine.'
Ray nodded. 'Good.' He looked me up and down. 'I’d hoped you’d be able to perform in our opening number with the rest of the ensemble but …’ He shook his head sadly and smiled like a man who had faced enough disappointments to know that he would face many more. 'Never mind.'
'Try me.'
He shook his head.
'We will manage. So, I guess the first thing is to show you around the theatre.' I followed him from the tiny ticket office and out into the auditorium. 'This is our hall.'
Ray paused, waiting for my reaction at my first glimpse of his kingdom.
I’m used to the abandoned atmosphere empty theatres take on during the day. Deserted by audiences they lose their sheen. When the house lights go up the grandest chandeliers can look cobwebbed, the finest gold-framed mirrors age-spotted and marred. The red velvet seats where theatregoers dream themselves onto the stage night after night reveal frayed gold trim and balding nap. But I knew that, like the leading man who arrives grey-stubbled and sour-breathed, or the femme fatale who dares to bare her pockmarked face to afternoon rehearsals, come curtain-up great theatres are ready to wow them all the way to the gods.
Still, I had my doubts about the Schall und Rauch. When I’d called him back to accept the gig Rich had built the revue into something between the Royal Festival Hall and the Hot Club of France. I’d known he was exaggerating, but I hadn’t realised how much.
The auditorium smelt of mildew, tobacco and wet coats. Its dirty pine
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