he asked with a grin.
‘Now you’re just trying to blind me with science. I hate the damn things.’
I stared at the very posh leather-bound notebook as he quickly wrote something with a silver Cross pen.
It reminded me of my mother. She always used Cross pens and Smythson notebooks. She would approve of Marcus.
‘You’re looking pissed off again,’ he commented.
‘Sorry, I was thinking about my mother, it does that to me.’
He looked startled. ‘Right. OK. I’ve got a few ideas about some software and asset management programmes to help you manage your inventory that would be easy to implement and would, I promise you, be of practical help. Once they’re installed and you know how to use them, you won’t believe how you ever managed without them.’ He gave me a wry grin. ‘We can explore some off-the-peg solutions which will be straightforward to install.’ His face sobered. ‘The hard bit will be down to you and you’re going to need to commit to it. The final success will be totally reliant on you. There’ll be a lot of set up work, inputting data and information. Stock-taking.’
I sat up straighter and shook my head.
‘I haven’t got time. And like I said, we’re very good at managing our supplies.’ And the thought of it all being down to me scared the pants off me. I didn’t want the job. ‘This is a very busy time of year for us. The Nutcracker starts in three weeks, we’re full on. I just won’t have time.’
His eyes narrowed.
‘Are you going to tell Alison Kreufeld that?’
My day didn’t get any better after I’d begrudgingly agreed to another information sharing session the following week with Marcus. When I returned to the make-up department Vince barely spoke to me and when Pietro rocked up for his call, he wasn’t himself at all.
‘Is everything alright?’ I asked. Stupid question because anyone within two feet could feel the waves of anger radiating from him.
He threw himself into the cream leather seat in front of the well-lit mirrors, a scowl creasing deep lines across his forehead. Leonie hurried into make-up after him, still trying to lace up the ornate brocade jacket he wore. She threw me an anxious look as with ill-grace he submitted to her, tying the laces and adjusting the elaborate trimming at his neck and cuffs. She worked with jerky movements, tight-lipped and frozen jawed. Pietro stared stonily at himself in the mirror.
Oh God, I had to get him on stage on time tonight.
I felt slightly sick as I dabbed my sponge in the pan stick. It was like having to go head to head with a dragon who might roar at any moment and singe my eyebrows into oblivion. If that was all he did, I’d count myself lucky. An hour to curtain call and he was still a long way from the zone. No amount of scales in the lifts would help if he didn’t start making that mental shift into character. Actors, singers and dancers all prepare themselves before they go on stage. They use a variety of methods to put themselves in the zone. For some it’s very casual and only a five-minute job. For others, from the minute they enter the theatre, they start thinking about their character. Dancers begin warming up and stretching their muscles. Singers start to tune up their voices, practising their breathing, running through scales and vocal exercises with their mouths and cheeks to get all the musical juices flowing.
Pietro normally prepared with painstaking thoroughness. Last time the phone call had interrupted but he’d already been in character. This zombie-like stillness and sense of brooding made me very nervous.
I approached with extreme caution, taking my lead from him. He clearly didn’t want to talk.
Without making eye contact, I busied myself with my kit and then got straight down to work without any further preamble, brushing his face with quick, nimble strokes, blending the foundation to create my blank canvas, working my way right into the roots of his hair. Next I brushed his hair, applying a light coat of wax before pinning it away from his face in readiness for the long wig.
He grunted as I tugged it into place and then firmly pushed hairpins through the mesh to ensure that it didn’t slip.
He closed his eyes and kept them closed as I started work, shading the lids and outlining them with eyeliner.
When he opened them, my heart contracted in pity. Despair shadowed them.
‘Oh Pietro, are you OK?’ I asked unable to stop myself. I’d never seen him look so down.
‘No, my bastardo brother-in-law just asked for more money,’ he whispered. ‘And my agent says that he can’t get an injunction. I’m going to have to pay the little shit again.’
Once Pietro strode onto stage, I joined Jeanie and Vince in the wings and let out a huge sigh, feeling the tension in my shoulders release. I’d got him there, although I wasn’t convinced I’d done him any favours. As the curtain rose, I caught Alison’s eye and she gave me an approving nod. It didn’t make me feel any better.
I watched anxiously as Pietro took centre stage and began to sing.
‘God, that was awful,’ I muttered in Jeanie’s ear.
‘What was wrong with him?’ Her low voice was barely audible. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite like that before.’
I just shook my head, unable to take my eyes from him. We watched as he moved about the stage. The voice was off, and his movements stiff. He missed a couple of cues that the audience would probably never know but a frisson of alarm ran around the wings.
After ten minutes, Pietro’s consummate professionalism and innate talent rescued him.
When we left the backstage area at the end of the performance to go to the canteen for a cup of tea, I was able to heave a sigh of relief.
‘Shit.’ Jeanie turned to me. ‘That was a bit hairy.’
‘He’s had some bad news,’ I hedged. ‘You know I told you about the porn film.’
I filled her in on his latest fears.
‘Bastard. His own family,’ said Jeanie as we queued up. ‘But better to keep it out of the papers. Something like that would spread faster than wildfire on the internet.’
‘That’s what he’s worried about. Never getting the genie back in the bottle.’
‘You got him on.’ Jeanie clapped me on the back. ‘That’s the most important thing. All part of our job. You handled him well. Didn’t press him. I think if anyone else had, he would have detonated.’
‘Think you can tell Alison Kreufeld that?’
‘She saw it for herself.’
‘Yeah and she probably saw how crap he was for the first ten minutes and I’ll get the blame for that too.’
‘She’s not so bad you know. She rates you.’
‘Yeah
