Smoke and Mirrors (20 page)

After everything that had happened, Edgar was surprised to find himself enjoying the pantomime. Perhaps it was because it was Christmas Eve, or because there was still snow outside, but there was an intense excitement amongst the audience as they waited for the curtain to go up. Edgar looked down the row at Betty, watching the stage with a composed, professional expression on her face, as if planning to compare Nigel Castle’s writing with her own, and Richard, lost in wonder, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. He didn’t quite know how he had ended up here with Bob, Emma and the two children. Emma had kept in touch with the family and she had been the one who suggested that the Francis children could do with a Christmas treat. Understandably, the parents didn’t feel up to it (‘I feel like I never want to see a play again,’ said Sandra), so Emma had offered to take them. ‘You’re coming too,’ she told Edgar and Bob. ‘It’ll be our Christmas outing.’ ‘She’s getting very bossy,’ Bob grumbled to Edgar, ‘just because the super said she was a credit to women police officers everywhere.’

Bob didn’t seem to be complaining tonight though. Edgar watched as he teased Betty about various film stars that he’d never heard of. ‘I’ve seen that poster of Tex Ritter in your bedroom.’ ‘No,’ Betty was saying seriously, ‘I’ve only got a picture of Rin Tin Tin.’ Emma was tousling Richard’s hair and asking him what Father Christmas was bringing him tomorrow. ‘Kevin says Father Christmas doesn’t exist,’ said Richard. ‘Of course he exists,’ said Bob, ‘I’ve asked him to bring me a cowboy hat and a gun.’ Edgar wasn’t sure about the wisdom of encouraging children to believe in mythical figures (to say nothing about the gun) but there was no doubt that Bob and Emma were both genuinely fond of the twins. They all were. It was as if Betty and Richard had suddenly acquired a whole police station full of aunties and uncles. Superintendent Hodges had even bought the family a giant tub of toffees, probably purchased from Sam Gee and to be delivered by Father Christmas.

Edgar felt fond of Jim and Sandra too. The couple were never going to get over Annie’s death but they were a strong family, close-knit and private. Edgar knew that they’d survive. Sandra had been incredibly forgiving about Jim’s affair with Edna, if it could be classed as an affair. ‘These things are different for men,’ she said to Emma. Edgar asked Emma if she thought that Sandra had ever suspected that Mark was Jim’s child. ‘She says not,’ said Emma. ‘She said she never really noticed him, he was just one of Annie’s friends. “I’ve only got time to think about my own children,” she said.’ Edgar thought that Sandra was still so grief-stricken about Annie that nothing else seemed to register, except the safety of her other children.

Jim, of course, had lost two children. He only mentioned this once, obliquely, to Edgar. ‘I always suspected that the little lad might be mine but I thought, I’ve got four kids, Mark’s all Edna and Reg have.’ His fists had clenched and his face had taken on an alarmingly purple hue. ‘If I’d known then . . .’

‘None of us knew,’ said Edgar, ‘that’s the point. These people walk amongst us until suddenly something happens and then the demons are unloosed.’ He thought of Ezra Nightingale. What had driven him to his single murderous act? Again, they would never know but, thinking of Denton McGrew, the man who turned into a different creature every night, Edgar was sure that he, for one, would never forget Ezra’s victim. Why else had he kept her picture all these years? Poor little Betsy, with her ringlets and dirndl skirt. Edgar knew that she’d stay in his mind as long as he remembered this case, which meant for ever. Roger and Diablo too, in their different ways, would never forget the events of that December, thirty-nine years ago.

Edna Webster had moved away, to stay with her sister in Newark. There would be plenty of publicity when the case came to court, of course, but for the moment the residents of Freshfield Road seemed to want to put tragedy behind them and look to the future. There was talk of a memorial to the children in the park, and Bristol Road Juniors would be presenting the Daphne Young Cup each year to the student who showed the most promise with their writing. Sam Gee was still talking about suing the police but Edgar was confident that the shopkeeper, too, would want to lie low for a while. Brian Baxter had closed the garage theatre. ‘Too many memories,’ he told Edgar when he called round to break the news of Reg Webster’s arrest. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever go to the theatre again.’ Edgar hoped that wasn’t true. He hoped that, in years to come, Brian Baxter would be taking Jimmy Francis and his contemporaries to the pantomime. After all, that was what uncles were for, whether honorary or not.

The lights dimmed, the orchestra started to play a tune that was vaguely oriental in aspiration. Betty turned to Edgar, her eyes shining. ‘It’s starting.’

The first number – manic dancers in silk tunics and tights singing about Peking – seemed to go on for ever. But then someone was shouting, ‘Bow down for His Excellency the Emperor of Peking!’ and Diablo bounded on stage. ‘Hallo, boys and girls!’ Edgar grinned. Max had told him about Diablo’s loose interpretation of the part but it was nice to see the old boy enjoying himself so much. The audience loved it too, wolf-whistling when the Emperor introduced his daughter, ‘The winner of Miss Peking 1951.’ The Princess reminded Edgar of Ruby. She had the same self-contained grace on stage. Ruby. Whenever he thought of her, his heart beat so fast that he honestly thought he might be about to die. What a way to go. The night they had spent together had been one of the most wonderful experiences of his life. He had asked her to marry him the next morning. Even the fact that Ruby had just laughed and said, ‘You don’t have to marry me just because we slept together,’ didn’t depress him too much. ‘I want to marry you,’ said Edgar. ‘I love you.’ ‘That’s nice,’ said Ruby. Then they’d had to stop talking because George and Edward had barrelled into the room demanding breakfast. Lucy had given Edgar and Ruby, sitting decorously side by side on the sofa, a very sharp look but she’d said nothing. She wasn’t a bad sort really, Lucy.

On stage the Peking street scene had given way to Widow Twankey’s kitchen. Twankey’s antics with the ironing had the audience in hysterics. Richard was laughing so much that Edgar was afraid he’d be sick. His younger brother, Jonathan, had always been sick if he got too excited. It had happened when their Uncle Charlie had taken Edgar and Jonathan to the end-of-the-pier show in Hastings and they’d seen Max perform the Zig Zag Girl trick. Of course, at the time, Edgar hadn’t known that Max would go on to become one of his closest friends, or that Jonathan would be dead before his nineteenth birthday.

Wishy Washy went into the washing machine and came out as a cardboard cut-out. Richard was hiccoughing with laughter and Bob wasn’t far behind. Even Betty was giggling delightedly. It must be rather a wonderful thing to be an actor, thought Edgar, to allow all those people in the audience to forget their troubles just for an hour or two. Maybe that’s why they put up with it all – the grotty digs, the hard-faced landladies, the hours on the road – just for those moments of pure delight.

‘Honestly, boys and girls, I despair of Wishy Washy. You’d never believe that he’s Aladdin’s brother. Well, between you and me, I did have a bit of hanky-panky with a handyman from Tonypandy. Ah yes, Handy Andy from Tonypandy. He’s Wishy’s father all right. Neither of them any good with tools. If only I had a real man.’

A flash of green light. A thrill of anticipation from the audience.

It was time for Max to make his entrance.

*

It was the best show yet. Max was glad of that. It was Christmas Eve and Edgar was in the audience with two children who had been through hell and back. If they couldn’t put on a good show tonight, then what was the point of it all? But even standing in the wings, he knew that it was flying. Waves of laughter coming from the audience, all the actors playing up to it, old hams like Diablo and Denton laying on the double takes and double entendres, the dancers sharper and more focused, even Annette less wooden and more appealing. His own entrance was greeted with delighted boos and hisses, but also by some cheering. He quipped with Denton, the lines flying back and forth across the stage.

‘Surely you wouldn’t take my favourite son?’

‘I’m offering him a treat, and don’t call me Shirley. You’ll have him back at midnight, my word as a gentleman.’

‘Ooh, I’ve got into trouble that way before. I’m too trusting, that’s my problem.’

‘Believe me, madam,
that’s
not your problem.’

Nigel Castle was watching from the wings but even he couldn’t complain tonight. All his lines were getting laughs in the right places and, if Denton did make the joke about the Brighton Belle, he was surely entitled to a bit of licence. Even the trick went perfectly, Annette disappearing into the rock as smoothly as a seasoned magician’s assistant. Ethel, Max’s best-ever girl, couldn’t have done it better.

By the time they got to the transformation scene and the reveal, the laughter and applause were almost constant. Aladdin and the Princess, resplendent in white wedding clothes, clasped each other in a bosom-to-bosom kiss. Widow Twankey and the Emperor made rather more of their facetious embrace.

‘Now I’ve got a real man!’

‘And I’ve got a real woman at last.’

In the original
Arabian Nights
version Abanazar is killed by Aladdin. Ezra Nightingale would undoubtedly have preferred this ending. But Nigel’s script simply had the magician vanishing in a puff of green smoke, living on to do evil another day. This meant that Max didn’t have to take part in the wedding scene. He could wait in the wings until the curtain call. When his moment came, he was almost knocked backwards by the roar of applause from the audience. He couldn’t see Edgar or the children – he preferred to keep his audience faceless – but he hoped they had enjoyed themselves. The entire cast came back for five curtain calls, the audience whooping and stamping. The final number was ragged because people were laughing and embracing. Annette was necking with one of the chorus boys (doubtless to the confusion of some of the younger members of the audience) and the Princess was wearing Diablo’s long white beard.

When the curtain finally fell, there was mass hugging and self-congratulation. ‘The best pantomime ever!’ ‘Happy Christmas!’ ‘I love you all.’ This last from a clearly inebriated Diablo. Max slipped away. He had promised Edgar that he’d see the children backstage.

All five of them were waiting by his dressing room: Edgar, two cute red-haired children, the blonde policewoman and the sulky sergeant. Except that none of them looked sulky tonight. Everyone was beaming.

‘You were brilliant,’ said Edgar.

‘It was the best pantomime I’ve ever seen,’ said the policewoman, who was looking extremely pretty in a rather good grey dress.

Max crouched down to the children. ‘What did you think? Don’t worry, I’m not wicked in real life.’

‘You were good,’ said the girl judiciously. ‘How did you do the disappearing trick?’

‘I liked the bit when everyone got custard in their face,’ said the boy.

He invited them into his dressing room and performed a few card tricks for the children. He noticed that the girl, Betty, watched him extremely closely. She was a sharp one and no mistake. Eventually he produced an egg from the boy’s ear and a bunch of flowers for Betty. Then he signed some photographs and wished them all goodnight.

‘Can you take Betty and Richard home?’ Edgar asked the younger officers. ‘I’ll wait for Max.’

‘Of course.’ But Max thought that the policewoman, Emma, looked disappointed.

‘Happy Christmas,’ she said.

‘Happy Christmas,’ said Edgar. ‘Make sure you have a good rest.’

*

They walked back along the seafront. It hadn’t snowed for a few days but there was still enough of it on the ground for tomorrow to qualify as a white Christmas. The night was fine and cold, white waves breaking on the black beach, the stars high and bright. As they walked, the lights went off on the pier and they were left with only the feeble glow of the Christmas lanterns strung between the lampposts.

‘Thanks for seeing Betty and Richard,’ said Edgar. ‘It really was the icing on the cake for them.’

‘How are they doing?’ asked Max. ‘It must all still be very raw.’

‘It is,’ said Edgar. ‘Annie died less than a month ago. This Christmas will be very hard for the parents, but children are amazing, they’re so resilient. And Betty and Richard have each other. I think they’ll be all right.’

‘How are you doing?’ asked Max, as they crossed the deserted coast road. ‘I always think that you forget that all this affects you too.’

‘I’m all right,’ said Edgar. ‘In fact I’m better than I’ve been for a while.’

‘Are you going to see your mother on Christmas Day?’

‘Yes.’ He had been trying not to think about it.

‘That’s good.’

Edgar knew that Max thought he should see more of his mother. Having lost his at such a young age, Max tended to be sentimental about mothers. In retaliation he asked if Max was seeing his father.

‘Sadly no. It’ll just be me and Mrs M and a turkey.’

‘And the other pros.’

‘Yes, Wee Bobbie and the rest. We’ll be a merry little party.’

He didn’t sound depressed though, thought Edgar. If anything, he sounded suspiciously high-spirited. In fact Max’s Christmas sounded jollier than his. At least Lucy, Rupert and the boys would be at his mother’s house too. That would cheer things up a bit.

When they reached Upper Rock Gardens, Max said, ‘Do you want to come in for a nightcap? It’s nearly midnight. We can toast Christmas.’

‘Thank you,’ said Edgar. ‘I’d like that.’

Max climbed the steps to the front door. Edgar stayed on the pavement, looking up at the stars, trying to see Diablo’s Great Dolphin. He wondered what the old boy was doing tomorrow. He would bet money on him turning up here.

‘What about Mrs M?’ he asked. ‘Won’t she be waiting up for you?’

Max turned and Edgar saw his teeth gleam in a sudden grin.