An Amateur Corpse Read Free Page A

going to say she recognized him from the television. But no. ‘You’re the only person down here I didn’t recognize. And I knew you’d be in tonight because you’re doing the crit on Tuesday, so, by a process of elimination . . .’
    â€˜I’m Vee Winter, by the way. Though I act here under my maiden name, Vee le Carpentier. I always think if people see in programmes that the leads are played by people with the same surname, they get to think the Backstagers are awfully cliquey.’ Before Charles had time to take in this statement, she went on, ‘Have you met Geoffrey?’
    â€˜No, just seen him on stage. He’s very talented.’ Charles didn’t volunteer whether he thought the talent was being appropriately used.
    â€˜Yes, he’s talented.’ She changed the subject abruptly.
    â€˜Since you’re coming down to do this thing on Tuesday, why not have a meal with us beforehand?’
    â€˜That’s very kind,’ said Charles, wondering if he ought to check whether Hugo and Charlotte were expecting him.
    Vee took it as assent. ‘About half-past seven. The Critics’ Circle isn’t till eight-thirty. I’ll give you our phone number in case you have problems.’
    â€˜Fine.’ Charles made a note of the number. Then he added, because he was beginning to understand suburban timetables, ‘Seven-thirty then. After the children are asleep.’
    â€˜We don’t have any children,’ said Vee Winter.
    Sour Reggie dispensed Charles’s order for drinks as if the country were threatened by imminent drought. Vee helped carry the glasses back to the group.
    She seemed to know them all. She made some insincere compliment to Mary Hobbs about her Arkadina.
    â€˜Oh, that’s sweet of you to say so, darling. Actually. The voice dropped with the subtlety of a double declutch on a worn gear-box. ‘I still think you would have made a better Nina, but, you know, Shad gets these ideas. . . .
    The circle had enlarged in Charles’s absence to include an elderly man with a white goatee beard. And Hugo’s mood had shifted into something more expansive. ‘Charles, I don’t think you’ve met Robert Chubb. Bob, this is Charles Paris. Bob’s the founder of the whole set-up. Started the Backstagers back in. . . . ooh . . .’
    â€˜Nineteen hundred and mind-your-own-business,’ supplied Robert Chubb jovially. ‘First productions in the Church Hall, mind you. Come some way since then. Started the fund for this complex in 1960 . . . and ten years later it was all finished.’ He gestured to the rehearsal room and theatre.
    It was an impressive achievement. Charles bit back his cynical views on the subject of amateur theatre and said so.
    Robert Chubb seemed to have been waiting for this cue to launch into the next instalment of his monologue. ‘Well, I thought, I and a few like-minded cronies, that there should be some decent theatre in Breckton. I mean, it’s so easy for people in the suburbs to completely lose sight of culture.
    â€˜So we damned well worked to set up something good – not just your average amateur dramatic society, performing your Agatha Christies and your frothy West End comedies, but a society with high professional standards, which kept in touch with what was happening in the theatre at large. And that’s how the Backstagers started.’
    Charles felt he was being addressed like a television interviewer who had actually asked for this potted history. And his interviewee continued. ‘And now it’s grown like this. Enormous membership,. great waiting list of people from all over South London keen to join in the fun. Lots of Press coverage – particularly for our World Premieres Festival.
    â€˜It just keeps getting bigger. Now we run our own fort-nightly newsletter to keep people informed of what we’re up to