What Bloody Man Is That Read Free Page B

homosexuality, and Charles hoped that Russ wasn’t going to find himself in an awkward situation with the old actor. There was an air of naïveté about the youngster, which was capable of misinterpreting Warnock’s interest as something more altruistic, the simple desire of an old stager to help someone making his first tentative steps in the business.
    Charles’s misgivings were not dispelled when the old actor put his arm round the young one’s shoulders and hoisted him on to a barstool. ‘Now what’s it to be, Russ? It’s still Gavin’s round, so ask for whatever you want.’
    Russ Lavery coloured. ‘Oh, after all that wine we had at dinner, I don’t think I need anything else –’
    â€˜O! reason not the need!’ Warnock quoted grandiloquently, prompting Charles to wonder whether the old actor had ever actually played Lear. If he ever did, Charles thought vindictively, I bet it was a really hammy Lear.
    â€˜Good heavens,’ Warnock continued, ‘you can’t come into this business if you can’t take your liquor. Christ, boy, what do you think keeps the theatre going? It’s not talent, it’s not arty-farty acting, it’s not blooody Arts Council grants – it’s alcohol, pure and simple. Wouldn’t you agree?’
    This last was flashed maliciously at Charles, who found the question a slightly uncomfortable one to answer. Much as he hated to side with Warnock Belvedere, he could not deny the considerable contribution that alcohol (in particular, Bell’s whisky) had made to his own theatrical career.
    â€˜Come on, boy, have something.’
    â€˜Well, um, a small sherry.’
    â€˜Sherry! After dinner. Good God, have you just let go Mummy’s apronstrings? Don’t you know anything?’
    Russ Lavery looked deeply humiliated. It was clear that the answer to both Wamock’s questions was affirmative. Charles observed how, as with the snipe at him about alcohol, the old actor had a knack of homing in on people’s private anxieties. It made him a potentially difficult person to deal with.
    â€˜Get the boy a sherry,’ Warnock ordered, and Gavin Scholes obediently reached for his wallet.
    â€˜Sweet, medium or dry?’ Norman the barman asked impassively.
    The old actor looked at Russ. ‘Well, come on boy. You must give Mine Host an answer. I’m afraid I don’t know the appropriate etiquette for after-dinner sherry drinking.’
    The boy blushed as his humiliation was rubbed in. ‘Dry, please,’ he said in a small voice.
    Still impassive, Norman poured the drink. Warnock, seeming for a moment to regret his cruelty, continued in a softer voice. ‘Oh, I remember, when I was young, I once made a terrible cock-up over drink. It was when I was working with Ralph.’
    â€˜Ralph Richardson?’ asked Russ Lavery, awe-struck.
    â€˜Yes,’ Warnock Belvedere conceded casually, well aware of the impact his words were having. ‘I was quite new to the business . . . maybe a little older than you – and not nearly as pretty, I’m afraid . . .’
    Russ looked confused, confirming Charles’s suspicion that the boy didn’t know how to deal with this homosexual badinage. It’s always difficult in the theatre. There’s so much effusiveness, so much jokey campness that it’s sometimes hard to spot an authentically gay approach. In this case, though, Charles could have told Russ that he was up against the real thing.
    â€˜Anyway, at the end of the rehearsal one day, Ralph said he’d buy us all a drink. I was about as clueless as you are, young Russ, so I thought, well, here we are in the big, glamorous theatrical world, and I asked him for a glass of champagne. Hadn’t a clue what it cost. And in those days, it was going to be a question of opening a bottle – none of this wine-bar nonsense where they keep one open under the counter.