Chapter 16: Ghosts of the Fells

Friday, 6 June 1969

Wayne and Rebecca arrived at the theatre an hour before curtain. Theatre, if you could call it that. It was the general assembly room of a school—a large empty room with a linoleum floor and carts of folding chairs waiting to be set up. The stage was slightly elevated at one end of the room with no curtains. Nor were there curtains on the twelve-foot tall windows that lined both sides of the room. Wayne surveyed the setting and stage as the rest of the cast and crew unloaded and unpacked the crate. What a train wreck.

The promised set consisted of a couple of unpainted platforms. The specially designed thrones were two backless wooden cubes. Chuck and Judith were heatedly discussing the re-blocking of his monologue with Lena unsuccessfully attempting to referee.

“Th-thank G-god you’re back,” Chuck said. He was stressed and needed to shrink into his role. “This is a disaster.”

“Jim told me I wasn’t going to be a happy camper. What a mess.”

“Well, technical director, what are you going to do?” Wayne chose not to acknowledge Judith’s snippy tone.

“What can we do in the next forty-five minutes? Lights! Show me what you’ve got, Beth.”

“They’re on!” came a voice from back stage. Wayne looked up. Two fluorescent tubes hung over the stage and four spotlights shone from the ceiling in front.

“Dimmers?”

“Switches.”

“So much for mood lighting,” Wayne cracked. He looked at the row of tall open windows that lined the auditorium. “What time does it get dark here?”

“Next weekend has the longest day of the year,” Judith responded. “It will still be light at nine-thirty.”

“Kill all the lights—stage and house,” Wayne called to Beth. The difference was almost imperceptible. “I think we’ve got a problem. Judith, could I talk to you for a minute?” They stepped out the back door where the empty bus was pulling away.

“So, what are you going to do, Mr. Hotshot Technical Director?”

“Blow the bugle and call in the cavalry,” Wayne answered.

“What?”

“It’s in all the movies. The good guys are surrounded by Indians and it looks like they’ll all be killed. Then the cavalry comes charging in and saves the day.”

“So, who are you calling?”

“You. Look, I don’t know why you haven’t volunteered to help the show. You’re in it, too. You made a big deal out of the fact that you were coming home. You’ve probably performed right here on this stage, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But it was a long time ago.”

“Judith, I need your help. I walk on stage with the first line in exactly forty minutes. Whatever has you mad at me, please put it aside for now and help me.”

“That’s the first time you’ve asked me anything about England since Rebecca Allen joined the tour.” Wayne hung his head. He’d really screwed up. He looked up to her eyes and started to apologize but she cut him off. “Don’t worry. What’s fixable tonight can be fixed in ten minutes. You will have discovered it and be a savior.”

“Saviors always end up getting crucified.”

“Well, you won’t get that. But it’s going to cost you, and I’m going to start collecting tonight.” She pulled his head down to her level and kissed him with such fervor that he forgot about the set, the show, and the time. “Now come with me,” she said, leading him inside.

In ten minutes, black drapery panels had been retrieved from a basement storeroom and the windows were darkened. Two more lights and a follow spot were located and attached to the circuits. The entire cast and crew were on stage at five minutes till curtain in various stages of dress and make-up. There wasn’t an audience yet, but fifty chairs had been set up facing the stage. Wayne was trying to get his bow untangled. Jim gave a last few words of encouragement to the cast.

“It’s going to be a little different than we’ve ever done it before,” he said. “I don’t know what to tell you other than that. The way you’ve all worked today is proof that you’re all pros. I can’t promise you that tomorrow will be any easier, but I can promise you that I’ll be very proud of you. Now break a leg.”

The cast wished each other luck and the show was on.

The first performance was not the unmitigated disaster everyone expected. The thirty or forty people in the English audience were more interested in American interpretation than in elaborate staging. The lack of lights and effects didn’t lessen their enjoyment. As soon as he was free to immerse himself in his character, Chuck delivered another stellar performance as the Danish Prince.

A reception hosted by the mayor of Keswick followed the performance. Finally, a weary cast and crew struggled out of make-up and costumes. Wayne saw Rebecca only briefly as she left with a group of people from the audience. Judith stood with a friend who eventually left. Glenn finished stripping off his make-up and flopped back on a chair in the stairwell dressing area as Wayne finished his. Gail carefully went down the rack of costumes checking each of them off a list. Shortly, they were the only ones left in the building.

“All right!” Glenn shouted when Jim had finally gone.

“What’re you so happy about? Do you have any idea how much work we have to do tomorrow?” Gail quit her pretended inventory and wrapped her arms around Glenn. Judith planted a kiss on the back of Wayne’s neck. The three were all laughing.

“That’s tomorrow!” Glenn laughed. “Tonight is tonight.” His fingers moved in a mock magician’s gesture and the unmistakable shape of a rolled joint materialized. Wayne joined the laughter.

“I thought you were all hard at work while I was hassling with customs. Instead you’re out making a score.”

“Oh, it was in the crate,” Gail said. “I sewed half a dozen into the hems of different costumes.” Her bright cheerfulness was lost on Wayne. His temper was lost on his friends.

“You what? God damn you idiots. Do you have any idea what they put me through at customs looking for shit like that? You stupid morons!” Wayne stood and lunged at Glenn. Judith and Gail pulled him back.

“Easy, babycakes. We were just having fun on you. It wasn’t in the crate. That guy I was talking to at the end of the show passed them to me.” Wayne turned to look at her. Tears were running down his cheeks. The day—the whole week—had been too much. Just too much. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” Judith said, wiping away the tears and kissing him. “I thought the joke would lighten things up. I’m sorry, baby.”

“I had visions all day of ending up in some goddamned British dungeon for the rest of my life. You don’t know what they put me through there.”

“I’m sorry, lover. All the dungeons in England are privately owned. Customs has a nice clean, modern prison.” Wayne laughed at her in spite of himself. He was so foolish. “Come on, now. Let’s go find a nice quiet place to relax and make love. There’s the matter of repaying a certain debt, remember?”

Wayne couldn’t argue with that. His reluctance and anger faded away as Judith took his hand and led him through the village toward Friar’s Crag. Once out on the Crag they sat and Glenn lit the first joint. The acrid smoke filled their lungs as they passed it around. Wayne was stretched out on the ground with his head in Judith’s lap, sharing the smoke back and forth in a kiss.

He wasn’t really used to this. Of course, he’d tried it. Glenn took him to a private party where this and harder options were available. He was far more interested in Judith’s kiss than the smoke—so soft and sensuous—but it was taking its toll on him regardless. Coupled with his recent travel and lack of sleep, the drug was hitting hard. He knew Glenn and Gail had slipped away farther down the lake shore. He was potently aware of Judith’s insistent caresses. She pulled his hand to her breast and he softly squeezed and rubbed it. His vision was going double and he tried to focus.

“Darling, I haven’t slept in a week. I can’t even tell if this is real,” he mumbled. He was on the verge of sleep when she touched his pentacles. His eyes opened, still not quite focusing. “Swordmaster?”

“Unbound, I’m just going to give you a little boost of energy.” He felt as if he were just waking up now rather than just going to sleep.

“Are we protected?” he asked.

“No one is here,” she said. Wayne was coming wider awake. Even with the rush of energy, he knew he was going to pay for this later.

“I don’t want us to be disturbed,” he said. Closing his eyes, he reached into the back of his mind and willed his wards to appear. When he opened them again Judith was looking around.

“How did you do that?”

“I just wanted it.”

“I’m afraid of you, Unbound. I’ve never seen that.”

“Please, Swordmaster, just lie with me here. Just hold me. I love you.”

And then he was asleep.

It wasn’t really sleep. He could have told her that. He was going to answer the sweet seductive voice above him. He really wanted to respond to the intimate caresses. They needed protection. Didn’t she know this place was haunted?