himself up for the role. I’m not sure what he does, but he’s there in the dressing room at least an hour and a half before curtain up and he turns off his phone and refuses to answer the door.’
‘Weirdo,’ Kate added.
‘I won’t warn you again,’ Diamond told her. He turned back to Shearman, now with his eyes open and looking as if he might survive. ‘When you secured him for the part was he okay about acting with Clarion?’
‘That was never an issue.’
‘There’s no history between them?’
‘They hadn’t met before coming to Bath. This is about Preston and his obsessions, not Clarion. He came with a reputation for awkwardness. I should have paid more attention, but we have a tradition here of welcoming all sorts. We’re friendly.’
More than friendly in your case, Diamond thought, recalling last night’s romp. He continued to ask about Preston. If the man had been acting secretively, he might be a serious suspect. ‘How was he in rehearsal?’
‘I’ve no complaints about him as an artist. He does his job and does it well. In fact, until this morning we were on civil terms.’
‘I’d better speak to him.’
‘Don’t,’ Shearman said in a horrified gasp, trying to raise his head. ‘It will only make matters worse, and we have four more performances to go. The theatre comes first. As far as I’m concerned, the episode is closed. It didn’t happen.’ He removed the tissue. ‘Look, it’s stopped bleeding.’
‘Sorry, but my show has to go on as well as yours.’
‘I don’t want the board to know.’
‘Who said anything about the board?’
Another locked door – to Preston Barnes’s dressing room –
frustrated Diamond, but not for long.
‘Shall I ask for the pass key?’ Leaman said.
‘No need.’ He knew the layout. Along the corridor he went and through the side door that had once been the theatre entrance in Beauford Square. The principal dressing rooms are at ground level and look out on a quiet lawn enclosed by railings. He picked the right window. As he’d anticipated, the casement was open at the top for ventilation. Nothing was fastened. He slid the lower window up and climbed in. Leaman followed.
Barnes was on the chaise longue wearing only a pair of jockey shorts. A tarantula might have crawled onto his chest from the way he sprang up. ‘What the fuck…?’ He was across the room and grabbing a bathrobe before they spoke a word. He wrapped it around himself as if playing the storm scene from Lear.
Rather than trading obscenities Diamond made a point of introducing Leaman and himself, adding, ‘It was obvious you weren’t going to open the door. We need to speak.’
‘If that little turd has reported me, I’ll kill him.’
‘I wouldn’t issue death threats, not in my hearing. As it happens, Mr Shearman wants to forget the incident.’
He switched the attack. ‘You’ve no right breaking in here.’
‘Nothing is broken. What’s your problem, Preston?’
Actually Diamond had noticed one problem in the short interval before Barnes had wrapped himself up. Another was that this young man would never be right for the classical roles. He was too small and too long in the nose. If he stood up, he wouldn’t be much taller than Hedley Shearman. Very likely there was bitterness here as well as a hot temper.
‘I like to prepare before I go on. Is that asking too much?’
‘What form does the preparing take?’ There were no obvious props, no incense burners, violins, tom-toms, chest-expanders. Plenty of space, though. It looked a bigger dressing room than the number one.
‘That’s personal.’
‘Someone said you psych yourself up.’
‘It’s much more than that.’
‘You’d better tell us, then.’
‘I need to school myself for the test to come. Focus my energy, my emotions. Visualise the role. Become the character. Have you heard of Stanislavsky? Brecht? Lee Strasberg? I think not. What’s the point in trying to make a policeman understand the guiding principles of my art? Oh, God.’ He gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘I’m a method actor, if that means anything. In simple terms, I take a mental journey to Berlin in the thirties. By a supreme exercise of will power Preston Barnes becomes Christopher Isherwood, or as close as any actor is capable of getting. Does that make sense to you?’
‘All this is going on before the show?’
‘It’s fundamental.’
‘To you – or all actors?’
‘Not all. We’re individuals, each with his own style. Some choose to go on without the sort of preparation I undergo.’
‘Richardson,’ Leaman said, surprising each of the others.
Barnes shot him an ill-tempered look. ‘Which Richardson is that?’
