light of Father’s candle did not reach the ceiling, but as we made our way deeper into this space, past racks and racks of clothes and hats and gloves, I decided it must be a giant wardrobe. Perhaps we would have the choice of all of these items for our costumes? The thought delighted me.
We came to what I assumed was the back of the giant wardrobe. Father felt around for a keyhole and having found it, he opened the door.
‘In here,’ he said.
Eugen entered first and I followed. For a moment it was pitch black until Father came in and the room was suddenly illuminated with bright electric light that made us all rub our eyes.
Father blew out his candle and laid it on a small dresser. I can accurately describe what I saw when I looked around the small room as this is where I reside at this minute. The room is narrow (Eugen has measured it with his feet and says it is fifteen by six, though I am not sure how his feet correspond with the imperial measurement) and it was quite a squeeze with the three of us inside. There was a second door to our left, which was closed. Two stretcher beds were stacked one on top of the other against the far wall, with a pile of blankets and two pillows on them. A small wooden stool stood alongside. In another corner there was a chamber pot, a wash basin and two jugs of water. Apart from the dresser by the first door, which I have already mentioned, and the single electric bulb that dangled from a brown cord in the centre of the room, that was all in the way of furnishing. The Spartan appearance was lessened only by the posters of Mr Sandow on the cream walls.
‘Through there,’ Eugen said, pointing at the second door, ‘is that the window?’
Father nodded. He went over and unlocked it.
‘This door should always remain locked when I am not here,’ he said before opening the door to reveal a heavy black curtain. ‘We can’t turn the lights on in there now. We don’t want to attract any attention. You never know who might be around, even at this hour. Eugen, come and help me with the pedestals.’
‘Can I go through?’ I asked.
‘You can but don’t touch anything.’
They left me alone and I approached the black curtain slowly. I held out my hand to part it, but I could not find an edge. I had to step forward into the curtain and slide along the wall until I found where it ended and I emerged into another space, dark and silent. I felt around behind me and lifted the curtain to let in the light from the bulb in the first room. Three walls were draped in black and the fourth was covered by a different sort of curtain lined with yellow silk. Just now, as I looked up from writing this, sitting cross-legged on my stretcher bed in the first room, I noticed a winch in the corner which must raise the curtain at the beginning of our performance.
‘Pull this thing right back,’ Father said as he backed through the black curtain, holding one side of my pedestal. They carried it to the far wall and placed it down. Father drew back the curtain nearest him to reveal a small storage space and they pushed the pedestal inside this recess. Eugen placed his hands on his hips and inspected the space. He shrugged and followed Father out the door to fetch the second pedestal.
‘When do we go on?’ I asked when they returned. ‘Which tableau will we do?’
Father grunted. Once they had slotted Eugen’s pedestal on top of mine, Father retrieved a heavy-looking pole with a glass capsule on top. ‘Keep the light coming in,’ he told me sharply and I pulled the curtain back further.
Father laid the pole down in the centre of the room, lifted a small hatch from the floor and began to connect wires that protruded from the bottom of the pole to something inside the hatch. With Eugen’s help, they carefully hoisted the pole upright.
‘I’ll have to test it,’ Father said, apparently to himself. Beside me were three switches on the wall that had been obscured by the curtain. He flicked the farthest one on for an instant and the bulb at the top of the pole lit up the room. I noticed in that brief burst of light that the floor had been painted in stripes of grey and brown.
Father ushered us back into the first room and locked the door behind him. ‘Get some rest,’ he said. ‘The curtain will not come up until eight o’clock tomorrow night. There is plenty of time to prepare. I will visit later in the morning.’
‘Food?’ Eugen asked.
‘There’s some bread and biscuits in the top drawer. I’ll bring something for your other meals.’ He looked at me. ‘Relax. Don’t let nerves or emotions ruin this opportunity.’
‘Yes Father,’ I said.
‘You mustn’t make any noise. I am the only one with a key to either door. Don’t, whatever you do, try to leave this room.’
‘Oh Father,’ I said and hugged him, forgetting myself.
Once he had left we lay the stretchers out and arranged the bedclothes.
When we were ready Eugen took pleasure in switching off the light bulb (Father never let us touch the switch in his workshop) and climbed into bed.
‘What time is it?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know. It was still dark outside.’
‘There are no windows,’ I said.
‘There’s one,’ he said. ‘The only one that matters. Concentrate on that.’
I am not sure how long we slept but we were woken by the electric light coming on. I realise now that this was the first time I had ever woken anywhere other than our bedroom, excepting the handful of times Eugen and I had been allowed to camp out under the stars, which helps to explain the terrible confusion I experienced.
When my eyes had adjusted and I had my bearings I entered the window room, where Father had parted the back curtain to reveal a painted scene of stone buildings and large glass windows.
‘Get your nightgown off and wash down,’ he said.
‘Morning routine?’ I asked.
‘It is morning,’ he said. ‘Don’t think of today as any different.’
‘Can we please have a clock? It is hard to keep track of time without—’
‘Yes, yes. I’ll bring you a clock this afternoon.’
Back in the first room Eugen was already rinsing himself with a brand-new sponge. He handed it to me when I had undressed and I ran it over his back.
A pile of new clothes rested on top of the dresser. A cardboard box on the floor contained our dumb-bells and developers from home and a single pack of playing cards.
‘The worm is back,’ I told him.
‘In your stomach?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t be nervous. Nerves will only hinder your performance.’
Oh dear. Eugen has just asked me when I will be finished writing as he wishes to turn the light off and sleep, so I must hasten things along.
Father managed to answer all of my questions and allay my fears during this visit and his next and in the minutes before the curtain rose at eight o’clock I
