Pantomime

Pantomime

    Cool winds whipped at skirts, jackets and hats alike. The pleasant autumn afternoon suddenly turned and everyone scuttled along their way making the most effort to get to where they wanted as quickly as possible.  The casual strollers, joggers and young mothers with their unruly children were gone and the park was peaceful again, just the way Archibald liked it.  Summer is a highly overrated season, people are everywhere swarming like ants on a picnic blanket, making noise with their music and laughing, but now the gentle blanket of silence that winter brings enveloped the park.

    Archibald walked along the deserted path witnessing the last leaves being pushed from their perches on the trees.  This icy blast would clear off the remaining vestiges of a brilliantly colored fall. A rich palette of deep golds, fiery crimsons and glowing oranges.  People would settle into the long, cold dark of winter and huddle in their holes leaving Archibald delightfully secluded.  Reaching a thick wooden door banded with iron he deliberately inserted an ornately carved key into the lock, the mechanism turned effortlessly and the door pushed smoothly as Archibald stepped inside.

    He navigated across the room and flipped a switch on the other side illuminating a host of faces.  Some were smiling, a few scowling and others leering; yet among them was one charming and coquettish face that glanced at Archibald. Aah yes, Francine looked as lovely as ever.  Archibald took a soft cloth and gently wiped at her cheeks, the blushing pink so delicately flushed across the apple.   Francine was positively the most perfect female Archibald had ever known, it sadden him to see her leave.  She would be back soon and he would be waiting, ready to make the necessary repairs.  The performers were so careless; often there would be chips, dents and worn off paint.  They didn't care, throwing them down on the floor while changing scenes. It made him angry, so Archibald never watched the performances. In reality, the stage manager insisted he did not attend after the last incident. Archibald had grabbed that snotty nose kid by the neck for throwing Francine down after the show. It was so hard that he broke off her arm, and that was just what he was going to do to Jimmy when the other idiots grabbed and pulled him off. 

    The theater company told him not to comeback to work, but in a few days Archibald was called back in to talk with the stage manager, Roger Vanderhoff.  Roger was nice. He understood that the performers were not as careful as they should be, and he too was angry that Francine was hurt, but he needed Archibald to promise not to come to the shows.  When Archibald agreed and signed his silly piece of paper with the theater's name emblazoned across the top, Roger took him back to the storeroom with the large wooden door. Francine was precisely laid out on a clean piece of muslim to protect her from the bare worktable.

    That was two years ago, right now she along with the others were to be packed up in their crates for the holiday pantomimes being performed all over the city.  Archibald never had to be told to stay away from the Christmas pageants, if the summer crowds were obnoxious, then the antics of the holiday merrymakers were unbearable.  All he hoped is that the handlers were careful and Francine returned from the tour relatively unscathed.  Archibald would miss her, but he had promised her a new outfit or two. The dainty bathing costume she wore for her number with Percy by seashore needed to be redone.  The last fool, Theodore who handled her for the show, had gotten the fabric wet and when it had dried, it shrunk askew.  Percy and Francine were suppose to frolic along the shore and sing,

BY THE BEAUTIFUL SEA

From the musical "For Me and My Gal"

(Harold Atteridge / Harry Carroll) (1914)

Joe and Jane were always together.

Said Joe to Jane,

"I love summer weather,

So let's go to that beautiful sea,

Follow along,

Say you're with me!"

Anything that Joe would suggest to her

Jane would always think it was best for her.

So he'd get his Ford,

Holler:

"ALL ABOARD!

Gosh, I want to be:

By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea!

You and me, you and me, oh how happy we'll be!

When each wave comes a-rolling in

We will duck or swim,

And we'll float and fool around the water.

Over and under, and then up for air,

Pa is rich, Ma is rich, so now what do we care?

I love to be beside your side, beside the sea,

Beside the seaside, by the beautiful sea!

It really was one of her best acts as she gaily pranced across the sand flirting with the water's edge.  That upstart, Theodore had the bright idea and decided that it would be fun to splash in the water and amuse the audience, this had ruined her costume.  There was no stretching it so he would make a replacement and perhaps a new gown as well.  A pretty new gown that would cheer Francine up after the tour, yes, definitely something lovely, Archibald was resolute.

    The Harmony Theater on Blinker Street glowed in the winter darkness of a steel gray afternoon.  The matinee crowds were pushing through in the lobby, the laughter of children running around in circles as the adults chatted, the whole room resembled a gaggle of geese.  Soon they drifted into the theater, some traversing the steps to the balconies while the others flowed through to the orchestra seats.  It was the season opening, the mood was festive as the lights dimmed and the noise quieted.  A single spotlight shone on a pretty girl and the gentle strains of violins reached the audience.

    Reginald and Francine often performed together; Reginald was a distinguished man with gray whiskers, monocle and a shiny black top hat.  In this act, she would wear her emerald green satin gown with the skirt that swished when she walked across the stage.  Francine loved when Joan was her handler; she was the only one who made her blond ringlets dance properly.  Geoffrey, Theodore and even Carol made her hair fly into her face and it was most inelegant.  That was fine if she was performing a polka, but she should glide across the floor not hobble like a peg leg pirate!

    Reginald approached Francine standing to one side of the ballroom, gallantly offered his arm; they strolled into the scene, and began to waltz.  Joan was in excellent form tonight, Francine danced seemingly without strings, twirling around the stage.  Reginald and she smiled to each other knowing that the crowd was holding their breaths wondering how their strings did not intertwine and tangle.  Francine was glad Reginald had Theodore this time, the awkwardness of his gait was appropriate for an elderly gentleman, but not a young woman.  Joan and Theodore danced around each other as they performed, breathless with the effort.  The waltz ended, Reginald and Francine bowed and curtsied with perfection.  As they prepared to change scenes, Theodore grabbed Francine from Joan with a smile as they beamed over the performance, he went to swing her out of the way for the next act. It was then Francine knocked into the frame, and the force with which she hit caused a crack along her cheek.  Joan and Theodore looked aghast at each other, the horror of the raw exposed wood to much to look at for either one.

    The phone rang; Archibald looked up from his stitching on the bodice of Francine's new gown.  He had embroidered sweet violets along the neckline and down the right sleeve of the cream silk gown.  Annoyed he brusquely answered, it was Roger. There had been a horrible accident at the opening show, would he be able to get to the workshop tonight?  Archibald asked what happened, but Roger would only say that Francine needed him.  With a single glance at the unfinished gown, Archibald reached for his wool coat from its hook and headed out.  His feet crunched on the new snow, untouched on this midwinter's eve and his mind raced.  It must be serious if Francine could not perform tomorrow without his help, what did those idiots do this time?  After an eternity Archibald finally reached the banded iron door, the lights were on and Roger sat in the corner perched on top of the radiator which was valiantly blasting warmth into the frosty room.  Archibald didn't like the look in Roger's eyes; they darted between him and Francine, eventually resting on Archibald as he reached her.  Archibald did nothing but stood unmoving and said nothing.  After a pregnant pause, his voice cut through the room,

"Who did this?'', Archibald had no interest in what had happened or how, merely whom was to blame for the jagged crack that ran from her left temple to the tip of her nose. 

Silence, then Roger spoke quietly,

            "Does it matter?  I have spoken with everyone and they are all very, very sorry about what happened and I have been assured that nothing like this will occur again.  What matters is that Francine needs your help, you're the only one who can fix her."

            "You know it matters and you have made these promises to me before Roger.  Who battered Francine's face?"

            "Archibald, you know I won't talk about the performers with you.  Remember you signed an agreement and the company will make me enforce it if necessary.  You don't want to leave Francine, do you?"

Archibald's stony stare cut into Roger, he turned his back and started to lay out his tools.  He gently pushed Francine's hair back away from her face and secured it.  Roger watched Archibald adept hands carefully rearrange Francine on the table.  His hands ran down her extending her limbs and straightening her gown, primly covering her knees.  Roger felt like a voyeur, Archibald begin to work on Francine.   After a time and without a glance,

            "Go, I have a lot of work and Francine will need to rest, come back tomorrow around noon and she will be ready."

    Roger stood in the cold snow, the St. Joseph's bells began to peal, and on the twelfth chime he turned the handle.  The room was colder than outside but brightly lit.  Roger looked around, the empty table caught his eye- Good Lord, he couldn't have taken her, would he?  The company would make him pursue Archibald, take legal action whatever was necessary to secure Francine.  Francine was not just any puppet but an antique marionette hand carved by Hans Groedel in 1893 and the masterpiece of an exquisite collection compiled by Baroness Maria Louisa Baumeister.  Relief washed across Roger's face as Archibald emerged from the side closet.  His reaction did not go unnoticed, Archibald dryly stated,

"Francine is packed and ready to go, you should hurry if you don't want to miss the two o'clock matinee."

Roger was surprised at Archibald's demeanor but gratefully accepted his good fortune and collected the previously unobserved crate on shelf by his side.  As he pulled the door close Roger turned to see Archibald polishing his tools,

"Thank you, Archibald".

Archibald neither looked up nor answered but nodded in response as the door thudded.  A smile crept across his face and a whistle to his lips.

    Theodore lifted Francine from the crate, her cheeks were deeply rouged.  Archibald is getting old he thought, perhaps he needed glasses. Theodore would mention the heavy paint job on her cheeks to Roger.  No one else ever talked to that crazy man, not since that summer two years ago when he and Carol pulled Archibald off Jimmy.  Maybe Archibald would finally have to leave the theater; the man was a menace and if the genius could no longer handle his tools with finesse then the company would be obliged to replace him.  Besides he was quite old and it was time for him to retire, go someplace warm instead of wandering around that freezing stone storeroom.  A couple of years ago they finally installed a space heater, many times he had gone in there to look through the entire collection to get ideas for a new program and it wasn't on, yet Archibald went about his work in the 45- 50 degree temperatures.  When he tried to turn it on, Archibald snarled at him that the puppets liked it better like this- he had thought that was an odd statement, but he was an odd creature and it was far easier to humor Archibald then complain.  Complaints to the company had always fallen on deaf ears, it was only when he almost broke Jimmy's neck that evening that any action was taken and then they only banished him from the performances.  Theodore always thought Jimmy would take some legal action, but when he left a few weeks later nothing happened and the whole event was publicly forgotten.  It was as if Jimmy had never been part of the troupe, Theodore kept meaning to have a couple of drinks with him and left several messages suggesting they meet at the Old Brew Pub where they used to hang out.  Not long after, Jimmy's sister, Susan called Theodore and in a broken, tearful voice let him know that Jimmy had been stabbed to death in an apparent robbery not 2 blocks from the pub.  What a tragedy, shaking his head, Theodore was ecstatic that the collision to the troupe's prize marionette had apparently been forgiven.  Not a word from the Baroness and only stern lecture from Mr. Vanderhoff who seemed more concerned with Archibald, the crazy collection conservator than the actual damage inflicted on the priceless puppet.

Glancing at her again, she looked more like a prostitute than an enchanting ingénue.   He turned to see if there was any white powder to dust on her face, maybe that would suffice for the evening's performance; he felt a sharp pain in his side and then another and another.  Perhaps the sausage he had with his eggs this morning had been in the refrigerator too long, when had he bought them?  He tried to rub the aching away, it was moist and he glanced down at his hand, covered in bright red and the sharp pains in his stomach now.  He looked to the table, Francine's face was more flushed still and in her hand was something shiny with red streaks; it kept poking at him.  The distorted grimace on her face, streams of warm liquid down his leg, and the pool of crimson on the floor brought the awful truth to light.  As he slid to the floor he watched her terrible face soften, the color fade to a gentle blushing pink as Francine lay back against the crate and slid the shiny metal into Reginald's cane.  She just watched him lying there on the floor with the slightest coy smile.  Suddenly, he heard Joan scream and the long, cold dark set in on Theodore.

© Vivian Archer 2007