It was the first night of The Relapse and it was a triumph. Jack wondered why they hadn’t done a Restoration comedy before; the audience delighted in the heavy-handed humour. Digges never did them in Edinburgh because he said the theatre-goers were more sophisticated these days. Jack’s estimation of the Edinburgh public didn’t match Digges’. The only difference Jack could see between the patrons of Edinburgh and Newcastle was that the latter tended to get drunker and rowdier more swiftly.
Afterwards, there was an excited atmosphere in the dressing room, applause still ringing in their ears. Courtney came in and announced that they would put on three extra performances as there was bound to be universal interest when word spread of the play’s success. When Courtney had finished, he asked Jack to step outside for a moment.
‘You did well tonight, Flyford, but you must pay heed to your voice. You sometimes mumble. Some of your words were getting lost. And do not get carried away with the audience’s laughter. Let it almost fade before continuing.’
As a young man who was becoming confident in his own abilities – albeit without the slightest justification – Jack resented Courtney’s sage advice. However, he let it pass as he was feeling guilty at voicing his unfounded suspicions about the actor.
Courtney languidly put an elegantly attired arm on Jack’s shoulder in a gesture of intimacy. ‘Mr Bowser informs me that, through your good offices, Mr David Garrick is to grace this theatre. I cannot hide my pleasure at such a joyous prospect.’
Again, Jack didn’t speak. This time, horror denied him speech. ‘However,’ Courtney continued, ‘arrangements must be made. Our season ends in a month and plans must be set. A date must be fixed. What play do you think he will want to perform? Parts will have to be allocated. We will make an announcement soon so all will have a chance to gain admittance. Would he do more than one performance? What do you think we should charge? Double? I suppose it depends on the sum that Mr Garrick demands; he will not be cheap.’
Jack had never seen Courtney so animated. But he had to interrupt before a complete itinerary had been decided upon.
‘Mr Courtney, I am afraid I do not know when Garrick will come.’
Courtney’s expression creased into one of surprise. ‘I have the word of Mr Bowser that the visit will be imminent. Are you saying he is mistaken?’
Jack shuffled uneasily. ‘Not exactly mistaken. I think he does not appreciate the scale of Mr Garrick’s commitments. A man of his outstanding reputation has many demands placed upon him.’
Courtney was now crestfallen. ‘Will he be able to come at all?’
Jack hesitated. Tell him no – the truth – and it would get back to Bowser in a trice. Better to play for time, though that was running out at an alarming rate. He was set for an almighty fall – he could feel it.
‘Do not worry yourself, Mr Courtney, Garrick will come soon. It is just that I have not heard from him as yet. So until I do, it might be best to wait before making final plans. I am sure he will let us know what he wants to perform.’
This cheered Courtney up. ‘I understand. And now that I know he is definitely coming to Newcastle, I can at least put up notices to that effect even if I leave the date vague. Something of the like’ – and here he raised his hand dramatically and wrote with his finger in the air – ‘“This theatre is proud to announce that the world’s greatest thespian, Mr David Garrick, will be gracing our stage in the very near future”. The wording may not be exact, but that is the gist.’
Jack groaned to himself as Courtney rushed off to put his lie into print. He was not only going to disappoint Bowser and Courtney, but also he was going to let down the whole of Newcastle.
He went outside the theatre for some air. He needed to clear his head and order his panicky thoughts. He was in a mess, and there seemed no way out. If life became any more complicated, he would have to admit to killing Acorn himself and hope for a quick execution.
Tunkle stumbled past him on the way to his hut. He was drunk as usual. He laughed inanely, which he now did every time he saw Jack. Fortunately, he hadn’t tried to get any more money out of him. Just as well; Jack had none to give. Jack kicked the wall in frustration and swore loudly.
‘You will ruin your shoes if you make a habit of attacking walls.’
Jack swivelled round. Before him, in the shadows, stood Catherine Balmore.
‘Please forgive my vulgar language. I had no idea you were there.’
‘You are forgiven.’ Even in the dim light, Jack could see her cheeks rise as a smile formed. ‘Do you not think tonight was a victory for the company?’
‘Oh it is nothing to do with the play. It was a great success because you were wonderful… as usual.’ A frog caught in his throat as he paid the compliment.
‘That is most kind of you, young sir,’ she curtsied. ‘Now, will you do me one more gallant act this night?’
‘Of course I will, Catherine.’ His heart pumped within his chest.
‘Captain Hogg is detained on military duties. Would you be kind enough to escort me to my abode?’
‘I would be most honoured. But would you not rather take a sedan?’
‘No. It is not so cold tonight. A walk will enable me to calm down after our performance. It was well liked and that always thrills me so. Does it not you?’
‘Yes, most certainly,’ and she took the arm he offered.
‘Besides, while we walk, you can tell me what troubles you so much that you feel you must kick down the very theatre.’
Jack floated along the street, his arm linked with hers. The physical contact excited him, yet her closeness, the intoxicating smell of her, made him relax. In her company, he felt safe and tranquil.
‘Now tell me, Jack, why are you so bothered, this night of all nights?’
‘It is the matter of Acorn’s death which still plagues me.’
‘How so? I hear that his murderer was found murdered himself. Which shows you were wrong about Mr Courtney.’
‘Yes, I was very wrong about him.’ How much else could he tell her? It was so easy talking to such an assiduously attentive and attractive audience. ‘The trouble is that Sheriff Ridley’s sergeant is unconvinced. He thinks I did it, in collusion with Thirsk.’
‘That is plainly nonsense!’ Her indignation was reassuring.
‘I know it is, but he does not think so. He has even forbidden me to leave Newcastle.’
‘Why, were you thinking of leaving?’ she asked in some surprise.
‘Well, not immediately. It is the suspicion that I find plays upon my nerves. My position is made the more serious because Thirsk has escaped the town despite the sergeant’s order to stay. With only one of his suspects still here, he will be watching me closely.’
‘I do not envy your position,’ she said with sympathy, squeezing his arm gently as she did so. The touch instantly triggered a rash of excited goose pimples. His hopes, which had gone into hibernation of late, now awakened rapidly.
They came out of the crowded, noisy lanes around the Bigg Market and stepped into the wide expanse of Pilgrim Street with its expensive shops and respectable houses, a number of which boasted lanterns at their doors. Two carriages trundled past. A group of drunken young rakes staggered in the opposite direction. They shouted out ribald remarks until one of them recognised Catherine and called for quiet. ‘Hold your tongues. ’Tis Miss Balmore from the theatre! Madam, pray forgive us, we did not realise it was you.’
‘I will only forgive you if you all come and see me when I perform next, the night after tomorrow.’
Enthusiastic assurances were given. Jack admired how casually Catherine had handled the situation. And more delightfully, they would think that he was her beau. He gloried in the envy this would create in their alehouse conversation.
The upper end of the street near the wall and gate was quieter; they walked in silence. Jack wasn’t sure where Catherine was staying until she stopped in front of a tall, elegant building. Noticing that he was appraising the house, Catherine said, ‘Of course, as a mere actress, I could not afford to reside in so beautiful a house. Captain Hogg is allowing me to stay here for the duration of the season. It is the town house of his cousin, but his relation rarely leaves his country home these days, which is most fortunate for me.’
‘Most,’ Jack almost hissed as he thought of the blubbery captain. How could she let him touch her? Even worse, did he come to her chamber at night?
‘Jack, I will think hard on a solution to your problem. Somehow, the sergeant must be made to realise that you have nothing to do with the murder.’
‘It is kind of you. However, I know where the answer lies. Unmasking the real murderer.’
‘So the sergeant obviously does not believe it was the man found in Sandgate.’
‘Crindle? Crindle was the same fellow responsible for the attack on myself. No, it was not him. I know who did it. My problem is that I cannot prove it.’
‘You know the murderer? May I ask who it is?’
‘You may and I will answer you. However, you will think me mad.’
‘Jack,’ she said tenderly, ‘I will not. Have I done so thus far?’
‘Very well. Prepare to be shocked. It is none other than Mr Bowser.’
Catherine made no immediate reply. In the dark, with her face hidden under the brim of her fashionable straw hat, it was difficult to tell whether she had registered what he had said, so he repeated the name. Eventually she spoke.
‘There must be some mistake. I cannot pretend to like the gentleman, particularly his crude ways, yet I cannot believe that he would kill his own partner.’
‘I know it sounds inconceivable. I do not understand why he would do it either. What I do know is that only he could have done it.’ And Jack went on to explain about Bowser’s snuff.
‘Your story certainly points the finger in his direction, though I must confess, I cannot come to terms with what you say. But if you are right, I imagine Mr Bowser will be a very dangerous enemy.’ She leant forward and held his head between her gloved hands. ‘I think it might be wise to slip away from Newcastle for a short while.’
Her touch gave him courage. ‘If I run, I will always be suspected. I have no alternative but to prove him guilty, by hook or by crook, if you will pardon the pun.’
Fleetingly, the moon broke through the clouds and he could see worry etched on Catherine’s beautiful face. Then she kissed him briefly on the lips. It happened too quickly for him to savour the moment, though he relived it a thousand times throughout that night.
‘Thank you for escorting me home.’ Before he could frame an appropriate reply, she had gone into the house.