Public transport had been kind to Douglas that morning and he actually made it to the theatre earlier than usual. He went to his dressing room to hang up his jacket and say hello to Carl, his hair and make up man, before heading off towards the individual practice rooms, intent on checking a couple of his lines before rehearsal. His route took him back past the stage door, which opened as he approached, admitting a shortish ginger man along with a rush of chilly winter air. Douglas assumed the man was another new stage hand and gave him a pleasant smile as he walked past. As he reached the end of the corridor, however, he could feel eyes on his back and he heard what almost sounded like a squeak from the man behind him. Douglas turned round.
"Um," the man said. His face was scarlet. "Excuse me, but you're... well, you're Douglas Richardson, aren't you?"
Douglas smiled, but his insides were cringing. "Yes," he said, extending his hand politely as he stepped forward. He never enjoyed meeting fans.
The small ginger man had a surprisingly strong grip, but his pale blue eyes were still as wide as saucers as he gazed up at Douglas.
"It's a pleasure to meet you. It really is. I've admired your work for a long time, actually. Your Falstaff in 1996 is one of my favourites." There was no tone of mockery- it seemed he was completely genuine. Douglas was mollified.
"Well, thank you very much."
"I'm Martin, by the way." The man spoke as though Douglas should know him, but Douglas was nonplussed. "The new tenor? Here at MON?"
Douglas felt a little embarrassed. For some perverse reason of her own, Carolyn had kept him in the dark about their new appointment, wanting it to be 'a surprise'. Douglas thought she probably just enjoyed knowing something he didn't.
"Martin, of course, I do apologise, I'm afraid I haven't been told anything about you."
Douglas was privately extremely grateful to the man for not yet alluding to what Douglas considered the worst period of his whole career, and probably his life. When Douglas met people who knew about it, they usually brought it up "accidentally" within the first three minutes, or never mentioned it at all. Douglas hoped Martin was one of the latter.
He looked Martin up and down, wondering what kind of voice would come out of that rather scrawny body. Must be impressive, he thought, if Carolyn's replaced Arthur with him. Douglas had always loved Arthur's beautiful clear tenor, but Carolyn had decided she wanted someone with what she called 'star quality'. Douglas hoped she'd found it in Martin. He made a quick decision.
"I was just heading down to the practice rooms before rehearsal, shall I show you the way? Then we can go in to rehearsal together."
Martin seemed to grow about two inches in height and a smile split his face.
"Thanks very much. I'd been hoping to get a bit of a warm up in, actually. My... um... my teacher recommended that I do at least half an hour of breath control exercises twice a day, even if I'm not going to sing."
Douglas sighed inwardly. He had never stuck to a dedicated practice programme and preferred to simply warm up and sing when the mood struck him. He was fairly contemptuous of singers who had a strict practice, fitness and diet regimen. He hoped Martin wouldn't be too overbearing with all the recommended rules and regulations. Douglas knew he didn't follow a single one of them and he was damned if he was giving up his three course meals and coffees in exchange for tofu and water.
"Well, here we are," he announced as they approached two doors covered with thick soundproofing. "Enjoy." He opened one door for Martin.
"Thank you. I will," said Martin sincerely and flashed Douglas a nervous smile before closing the door.
Douglas went into the other practice room and sat down at the piano, picking out the opening bars of his aria. He began to sing, softly, just to himself. He knew his voice was ready for rehearsals. He wanted to hear Martin on his own. He slipped back out into the corridor and stood, listening intently outside Martin's practice room. The soundproofing was old and Douglas could faintly hear him singing the opening bars to "E lucevan le stelle", the powerful tenor aria from the final act of Tosca. Douglas turned the door handle as quietly as possible and slipped into the room. Martin has his back to the door and was oblivious to Douglas' presence as he continued through the challenging piece.
Douglas had heard of music making the hair on the back of your neck stand up but it had never happened to him. At least, not until Martin reached the climax of the aria, his vibrato exceptional, his tone and breath control perfect. Douglas was stunned. His only criticism would be to say that the emotion in Martin's voice sounded a little artificial; but with that superb, almost textbook demonstration of enunciation, tone and projection, this man could get a job at any of the major operatic companies in the country. And yet, he was here.
Douglas let the last note hang in the air before breaking the silence. He slowly began to clap his hands. Martin jumped about a foot in the air and spun round, his face flushed scarlet again.
"Martin," Douglas was lost for words. "That was fantastic. Have you sung Cavaradossi before?"
Martin shook his head. "Only at home." He glanced up at Douglas. "Did you like it?"
Douglas could barely stop himself from laughing. "Like it? Martin, that was was amazing. You're practically note perfect and we haven't even started rehearsals. "
Martin shrugged dismissively.
"I'm being serious! You could audition for ENO with that, or the Royal."
"They wouldn't have me." Martin's voice was matter-of-fact. "I've no experience. This is my second professional job as a singer."
His voice dropped. "For the last six months I've been a man with a van."
Douglas frowned. "Well, at least you're here now. MON is a great company and excellent experience. Give it a couple of seasons and then try again." He paused and smiled. "And I can tell you one thing- you're not just a man with a van. You're a man with a voice."
Martin snorted. "I know we're opera singers but don't you think that was a little too melodramatic?"
Douglas rolled his eyes. "Come on, then, let's get to rehearsal before I swoon at another of your arias."
He glanced down at the shorter man as they walked side by side up the corridor and breathed a silent sigh of relief. Martin wasn't so bad after all.
