Free A Decent Interval by Simon Brett Page A

‘I’ll see what Tony Copeland thinks about that.’
    With which parting shot, Jared Root left the Green Room. Still texting away, Dennis Demetriades also shuffled out. With an apologetic smile to no one in particular, Ned English bustled off after them. If Jared was appealing to the show’s producer, the director could envisage a lot more problems ahead.
    While Ned had remained in the room, Charles Paris and Geraldine Romelle had been studiously studying, respectively,
The Times
crossword and Montaigne’s
Essays
. But the minute he was out of the door they exchanged looks and both collapsed into hysterical giggles.
    â€˜Well,’ said Charles when he had recovered the ability to speak, ‘what next? And what the hell does “tweeting” mean?’
    Geraldine Romelle grinned. ‘I’ll explain it to you when you’re older, Charles.’
    â€˜Thanks very much. I must say, a conversation like the one we’ve just heard makes me feel as if I’m well past my sell-by date. Shakespeare with mikes? Why should we stop at that? Why not turn
Hamlet
into a full-scale musical?’
    â€˜It has been done,’ said Geraldine.
    â€˜Has it?’
    â€˜Well, no, not really. But there was a version written by John Poole in 1810 called
Hamlet
Travestie
, in which “To be or not to be” was set to music.’
    â€˜Really?’ said Charles, quickly deciding that Geraldine Romelle was a genuine intellectual rather than just a voguish actress.
    â€˜Yes. It begins:
    â€œ
When a man becomes tir’d of his life,
    The question is ‘to be or not to be?’
    For before he dare finish the strife,
    His reflections most serious ought to be.
    When his troubles too numerous grow,
    And he knows of no method to mend them,
    Had he best bear them tamely or no
    Or by stoutly opposing them end them?
”
    â€˜Then it goes into a chorus beginning, “
Ri tol de rol …
” and so on through a great many other verses.’
    â€˜How on earth do you know that?’
    â€˜Oh, I did a dissertation on parody versions of
Hamlet
when I was at Cambridge.’
    â€˜Really?’ Charles Paris was becoming even more interested in Geraldine Romelle with every word she spoke. ‘I’d love to hear more about that.’
    â€˜I’m sure that would be possible.’
    â€˜Maybe …’ he began casually, ‘we could meet up for a drink once we get to the end of this wretched Tech …?’
    The expression on Geraldine Romelle’s face suggested that she was about to agree to his suggestion, which in Charles’s view would be a great step forward. But before Geraldine could shape the words of her response, from the tannoy speaker came the sound of an enormous crash followed by confused shouting.
    â€˜What the hell’s that?’ asked Geraldine Romelle.
    â€˜Something on stage,’ replied Charles as he led the way out of the Green Room.
    When he reached the backstage area the shouting had stopped, to be replaced by a shocked silence.
    Part of the set, one of the giant skull’s parietal bones, a concave structure of wood and fibreglass, had crashed down from the flies.
    On the wooden boards of the stage, poking out from underneath it, were the legs of Jared Root. They showed no signs of movement.

SIX
    I t was fortunate that the designer of
Hamlet
had modelled his set so closely on the human cranium. But for the concavity of the skull segment that landed on him, Jared Root would have been much more severely injured. A flat section of the same weight falling from the same height would undoubtedly have killed him. As it was, the wood-reinforced edge of fibreglass shell caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder. Though the impact of this broke his collar bone and fractured his right tibia, the hollowness of the structure meant that he suffered no head injuries.
    There was no doubt, however, that Jared would not be able to continue