CHAPTER 35: A LEAF DANCING

Thursday evening

Backstage at the Queen's Theatre

Novello had placed a chair backstage from which Thomas could watch both the onstage and offstage action of that evening's performance of Down Hill. Thomas looked forward to seeing Novello in a live performance. Earlier that afternoon, he had been dismayed when Novello expressed second thoughts.

"Aren't you any good?" asked Thomas.

Novello's eyebrows shot up. Then he laughed amiably. "That depends on whom you ask." He put his arm around Thomas. "At the end of the play, my character wants to end his life by throwing himself in the Thames. Isn't it a bit soon for you to watch something like that?"

"Ivor, do you think I'm such a rube that I don't know the difference between playacting and reality? Do you think I'll run onstage and try to throw myself in the river, too?"

"I don't want it to upset you, that's all," replied Novello. "You bring out the daddy in me."

"I didn't know you had a daddy in you, Ivor."

"Neither did I." Novello gave Thomas a squeeze. "I have an idea. Why don't you watch the show from backstage? It will give you a different perspective of the work I do."

"And I wouldn't get as emotionally involved in the story, is that it?" But Thomas was intrigued by the thought of sitting backstage. "It might be fun to compare your work to mine. The parties and banquets at the Abbey are like theatricals."

"Certainly!" Novello thought the comparison was stretching it a bit, but he was to get his way and that was enough.

Thomas walked about backstage inspecting this and that. He had been told that he could look but not touch. The stage manager gave a 30-minute warning and instructed Thomas to take his seat. Immediately, the curtain was closed, and the front of the house was opened. Thomas listened to the audience talking and laughing and arguing while they settled into their seats. He wanted to peep through the curtain but remained in his chair as he had been directed. He was surprised by how loud the audience sounded from backstage and felt his stomach turn over, even though he knew the play was having a successful run.

Soon several of the actors stationed themselves near Thomas and prepared for their entrances. Novello was among them, wearing a muddied rugby uniform. Thomas was amused by the idea that Novello would ever play rugby. Some of the actors chatted or made jokes, some stood in stoic silence, and some recited their first lines. Novello smiled at Thomas, then turned his attention inward and bounced lightly on his feet.

The stage manager made one last sweep of the stage. He picked up a can from which he extracted something or other that looked like mud and applied it to Novello's legs and arms. Novello playfully dipped his finger in the can and ran a line of mud down the stage manager's nose. The stage manager smiled indulgently and silently shook his finger at Novello. He took his place beside the intimidating light controls and signalled the operator. The operator slowly brought down all the lights and the audience hushed. Thomas' heart pounded with anticipation as he sat for a moment in complete darkness. The stage lights came up brightly, and the play began.

The first setting was a boys school at which Novello was captain and star athlete, Roddy Berwick. After having a younger boy bring him a bucket of water, Roddy proceeded to wash his bare, muddied legs in full view of the audience, from his thighs right down to his toes. Thomas smiled as he imagined women in the gallery seats, as well as some of the men, straining their necks to get a glimpse of Novello's exposed wet limbs. He was certain he heard a chorus of girlish sighs.

The play was about Roddy's descent from school hero to cocaine-addicted outcast. Thomas found it difficult to swallow some of the plot twists. When Roddy's best friend got a shop girl pregnant, Roddy took the blame so that his friend, the son of a poor clergyman, wouldn't lose his scholarship to Oxford. Not likely, thought Thomas. When Roddy left home, penniless and in disgrace, and fell in love with mercenary revue star, Julia Blue, he was able to woo her because he coincidentally won £40,000 in a Calcutta Sweepstakes. Oh brother, muttered Thomas under his breath.

The play jumped quickly from scene to scene. Novella rarely had the luxury of changing in the privacy of his dressing room. He stood offstage where he was stripped down and dressed up in full view of the stagehands and other actors. Thomas suspected that Novello enjoyed it. Phyllis Monkman, who played Julia, also had to make a quick change and did so near Thomas, who tried not to look but was fascinated by the well-rehearsed magic of it all.

Thomas was impressed by the stagehands whose efficient transformations of the stage between scenes seemed like hasty silent ballets. He watched the prop master consult his clipboard before each actor's entrance. He handed the actor whatever prop would be required during the scene: a cigarette lighter, coins, an envelope, and so forth. Thomas wondered what would happen if the prop master were to make a mistake and the onstage action could not continue because a crucial prop were missing. If Thomas were the prop master, he would not be able to sleep at night.

Thomas was outraged by the scene in which Julia evicted Roddy from his own London flat after he had spent all his Sweeps winnings on her. Roddy continued his downward trajectory in a Paris restaurant, where he was paid to dance with older women. He nobly refused their tips, but he was not too noble to refuse the cocaine offered by one of the waiters. His descent bottomed in Marseilles where a sailor found him sleeping on straw outside the room of a prostitute and dumped him on a boat headed for London. Roddy was determined to end it all in the Thames but was saved by his old school chum, the same chum who had started Roddy on his downhill path.

Novello and Constance Collier had written the play under the pen name, David L'Estrange, to take maximum advantage of Novello's boyish appeal, and they had succeeded. But Novello succeeded as an actor as well. In spite of the far-fetched situations, he was able to pull Thomas and the audience into Roddy's story. When Roddy had been reduced to nothing and was prepared to destroy himself, Thomas was forced to find his handkerchief and dry his eyes.

As the final curtain fell and the actors prepared to take their bows, Morgan appeared out of the darkness and tapped Thomas on the shoulder. He motioned for Thomas to follow him. "Ivor wants you tucked safely in his dressing room before the audience leaves. He doesn't want any cars following us tonight."

The previous night, two cars had followed them all the way from St. Martin's to the Queen's to the Savoy Hotel. "I don't think anyone will recognize me tonight. Not without my evening clothes."

Morgan shrugged, "Why take a chance?"


Ivor Novello's Dressing Room

Thomas and Morgan had not been waiting long when Novello opened the door. "Good audience tonight," he remarked. "Where's Bobbie?"

"He said he has other plans tonight," replied Thomas.

"Right," replied Novello as he sat at his makeup table. "Well? Are you going to keep me in suspense? How did you like my little show?"

Thomas suddenly felt shy in front of Morgan and did not respond. Novello was crestfallen. "You didn't like it." He tapped his ear. "Come, whisper it to me. Tell me the truth."

Thomas stood behind Novello, and addressed his image in the makeup mirror. "Some of the story was difficult to believe, but I believed you," he reported softly. Then he brought his mouth to Novello's ear. "You made me cry a bit."

Novello was touched by Thomas' sincerity. "Not too much I hope," he whispered back. Thomas smiled and shook his head.

Thomas was pleased when Gladys Cooper knocked at the dressing room door. He liked Cooper. Many thought she was the most beautiful woman in England, and Thomas had expected a conceited and empty-headed flapper when they first met. Instead, he found Cooper to be congenial and intelligent. When they sat together his first night at the Savoy, she asked him about his work and seemed genuinely interested. They both were a bit more reserved than the rest of Novello's crowd, and she quickly put him at ease. The next night, he felt proud to be her escort. He could see why Novello adored her.

Morgan had delivered a hamper with their cold supper. Thomas removed the food and announced each item as he set it on a table. "Soup." He opened the container and took a sniff. "Palestine soup, I believe ... tongue ... mayonnaise of fish ... beetroot and celery salad ... Camembert. Your favourite, Morgan, mince pie."

Novello looked with surprise from Thomas to Morgan. "Tongue is my favourite," he declared.

"I would expect nothing else," replied Thomas wryly and then blushed because Cooper was there. Morgan snorted, which made Novello and Cooper laugh. Thomas changed the subject. "Where are we going tonight?"

"A young photographer is having a small bring-a-bottle party. He lives in Paddington with his mother and sisters. They're gone for a couple of days, and he wants to let down his hair. But only to the shoulders, darling. There's no need for you to worry."

Thomas ignored Novello's teasing. "A photographer? You mean he does portraits?"

"Yes, but not ordinary portraits. His photography is art."

"Don't photographers take pictures of whatever's in front of them? How is that art?"

Novello smiled at Thomas' naiveté. "Perhaps he'll show you his portfolio. I'd like to help him. The poor thing's father has him working for a cement contractor."


The Beaton Residence

After they had their fill of supper, Morgan dropped Thomas, Cooper, and Novello at 61 Sussex Gardens. The house was tall and narrow. As they found their way to the upstairs drawing room, Thomas could hear a gramophone. Most of the guests were men, although in some cases it was difficult to tell. Thomas was surprised by the theatricality of the decor. The mouldings in the drawing room were painted gold, and the taffeta curtains were a jarring apple-green. A portrait of a woman was mounted above a heavily carved Irish console table. Novello said the woman was the photographer's mother.

"There he is!" shouted Novello above the noise, steering them toward a young man sitting on a carved and gilded armchair.

When their host caught sight of Cooper, he stood. "Gladys, I'm delighted to see you. I had no idea you were coming."

"I'm here with Ivor," Cooper explained, handing Cecil a bottle of champagne.

Cecil turned to Novello. "Ivor, I didn't think you'd come. I thought we'd be too tame for you ... and I'd like to keep it that way," he added pointedly.

"I don't know what you mean, Cecil," Novello protested, handing him a second bottle of champagne. "Thomas, this is our host, Cecil Beaton. Cecil, this is our dear friend, Thomas Barrow."

Thomas and Cecil shook hands, and Thomas held up a third bottle of champagne. He guessed Cecil to be in his early 20s. He was slender and pale, and Thomas wondered if he had ever stepped outdoors.

Cecil gestured to the back of the room. "I've put out a selection of records for dancing. And by dancing, I mean dancing, Ivor."

"Of course, Cecil. What else?" answered Novello as he and Cooper turned to mingle with the other guests.

"Ivor tells me you're a photographer, Cecil. May I see your portfolio when it's convenient?" asked Thomas.

"Are you an artist?"

"Oh no," replied Thomas. "I'd like to see why Ivor says your photography is art."

"Does he?" Cecil glanced at Novello who was already engaged in lively conversation. "I'd be happy to show you, Thomas, after I've taken care of this champagne. I never turn down a chance to proselytize for the cause."

"Let me help you," offered Thomas.

After they left the champagne in the kitchen to chill, Cecil led Thomas to his bedroom where he had left his portfolio. Thomas stood in the doorway in shock. The walls were painted a peppermint colour with enormous stylized lilies. A small four-poster bed was draped in scarlet and gold, and the bedspread was bright pink satin with gold trimming. The furniture was light pink, and the carpet was blue. How could anyone sleep in a room like this? thought Thomas.

"Here it is." Cecil turned on a nearby lamp.

Thomas opened the book and slowly flipped through the pages. He had never seen photographs like this. "What's that material?"

"Cellophane."

"Who are these women?"

"My sisters, Nancy and Baba."

"You use them as though they were objects."

Cecil laughed. "That's what they say. What's your verdict, Thomas? Is it art?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Why?"

Thomas thought for a moment. "Because you don't want me to see the person. You want me to see your opinion."

Cecil smiled. "Interesting. What word would you use to describe my work?"

"Luminous."

"Yes ... well ... another word ... more personal."

"Disturbing."

"Really? I haven't heard that one before."

Cooper appeared in the doorway. "You're missing all the fun, Thomas." She took Thomas' arm. "Let's join the others." His curiosity satisfied, Thomas was glad to be rescued from Cecil's peacock bedroom.

As Thomas and Cooper returned to the drawing room, Thomas saw a familiar face. It was Lucas sitting on the sofa with Garland perched on his knee as though he were a ventriloquist's dummy. Thomas had assumed their relationship was professional. Now it occurred to him that they were lovers, a thought that made Thomas chuckle. "How does Cecil know Garland and Lucas?" asked Thomas.

"They have friends in common." replied Cooper. "Garland did some choreography for Diaghilev once, and Cecil dreams of designing costumes and sets for a Diaghilev ballet. He hopes Garland will give him an introduction."

A fox trot was playing, and Thomas smiled as he watched couples navigate the room. He had never seen men dancing together as romantic couples. Space was tight, but no one cared.

Novello stood by the gramophone looking through records. When the music ended, he played a waltz. "Garland, Lucas, show us how it's done."

Garland whispered something in Lucas' ear and stood. Lucas lumbered to his feet, and the other couples stepped to the side. Thomas could not imagine Lucas dancing and watched in uncomfortable anticipation of a disaster.

Garland gazed at Lucas over his shoulder, raised one arm, and turned once in time to the music. In one easy, unbroken movement, Lucas took Garland's arm in one hand, placed his other hand on Garland's back, and swept him over his head as he turned in place. Thomas gasped.

Lucas lowered Garland lightly to the floor, and the two bowed deeply to each other. As they straightened, they each assumed a formal waltz posture but did not make contact as they circled each other and the furniture. At last, they came together, and Lucas placed his hands on Garland's waist. He slowly lifted and lowered Garland, again and again, giving the impression that Garland was a leaf dancing in a gentle breeze. Garland's movements weren't flowery but simple and elegant. Thomas was astonished and envied the couple's grace.

Lucas and Garland separated and took other partners. Novello approached and drew Thomas close. "Shall we?" Novello allowed Thomas to lead because that was all Thomas knew. As more couples danced, the space became impossibly cramped, but Thomas danced merrily with Novello and kissed his cheek when the music ended. Thomas could not recall another time since he was a young boy that he had felt so free. Novello was delighted to see Thomas beaming. "We'll tango later," he promised, giving Thomas' bottom an intimate pat. Thomas nodded happily.

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