Body on the Stage (6 page)

The five actors compared notes
in the locker room after their workout, cheerfully calling across
to each other in the open shower stalls.

“What are you pressing now,
Warwick?”

“Up to 75 now – hoping to get to
85 in a week or so. You?”

“Aw, at least 95 mate.”

“Ya bloody liar! The only way
you could lift 95 would be to hold up your little old granny!” The
others hooted with laughter.

“Hey, that Vincenzo seems to
know his stuff, doesn’t he? He gave me some good techniques to add
power to my workout. I reckon he’ll have us match-fit by
showtime.”

“Just as well, Simon, you’re
going to need all the help you can get!”

Dennis didn’t feel equipped to
join in the friendly banter. He put on a dry T-shirt and went home
to shower and change.

At the next construction session
back at the Regent Theatre he faced a minor interrogation from Tony
and Gazza.

“I hear you’ve been training
with the thespians, Dennis,” said Tony. “You’re not going over to
the Dark Side, are you?”

“Er, what do you mean by the
Dark Side? The actors or the fitness training?” Dennis wasn’t sure
which of the two was regarded with more disdain by his
companions.

“The fitness business, dude.
Thespians are a necessary evil, but I hadn’t picked you as a gym
bunny,” said Gazza.

Dennis held his arms out wide.
“Guys, do I look like a gym bunny? Come on! I’m just helping Cathy
a bit, that’s all. She asked me to spend some time at the gym to
sort out a problem she was having.”

“Ah, so there’s a woman
involved, is there? In that case, say no more.” Tony chuckled. “Do
what you’ve got to do, mate! More power to you.”

“Yeah, far be it from us to
stand in the way of true romance,” drawled Gazza. “So is it her
computers you’re servicing, or what?”

Dennis blushed. “I can’t say,
sorry.” He couldn’t explain the real situation, not when she’d
sworn him to secrecy.

There were delighted shouts of
approval.

“Now that sounds like you’ve got
your feet under the weights bench! Good for you, Dennis.” Tony
smacked him round the shoulders with a friendly hand. “I bet those
thespians are wondering how beefed up they have to be to get the
girls when you just stroll in and snaffle one under their noses.
Gives hope to all us roundly-built guys, doesn’t it?”

Dennis didn’t admit he planned
to reduce his roundness. He wanted to fit in with these guys, and
besides, he had no real faith he’d be able to lose enough weight
for it to be noticeable. Nothing that he’d tried so far had worked
very well despite all his efforts.

“So, guys, what are we going to
build today?” he asked, hoping to deflect their attention away from
himself.

“Today, Dennis, we’re going to
be creating a shabby house frontage with a veranda. The sort of
place that’s furnished with an old couch and a few beer crates.
It’ll be on a truck for moving it around, so we can just whack up a
few flats for the wall, and a roof with veranda posts to support
it,” said Tony. “The flats are stacked over there, and the truck is
hanging against the wall. First job is to get that down in one
piece.”

“What a pity the actors aren’t
here to give us a hand,” said Dennis. “They’d love to show off
their muscles by doing some heavy lifting. I’ve seen them watching
themselves in the mirrors as they pump iron – it’s a real
performance.”

“We don’t need bloody
thespians,” growled Gazza. “Besides, we’re not allowed to break
them. If that truck dropped on someone’s toe it’d be all over
Rover. Best we do the job ourselves.”

They braced themselves on each
side of the heavy plywood structure and Tony undid the ropes
holding it in place.

“Take the strain,” he said as he
began to lower the truck. Between them they managed to get it
gently down onto the stage and tip it horizontally onto its wheels.
“Phew! Glad that’s done,” said Tony, dusting rope fibres off his
hands. “Now we can begin bolting the flats together. Dennis, you
and Gazza tackle that while I go hunt out some bracing timber.”

By the end of the day Dennis had
a sore back and aching arms, but was pleased to see they’d built a
good sturdy bit of scenery. He assumed that later on somebody would
come along and paint it to look like real walls and decking,
because for now there was a section of fake brick, a panel of grey
stone, and a section of what looked like a moonlit lake with rushes
at the edge and half a swan.

While they’d been assembling the
house front at the side of the stage, Nick, Fenton and Jessica had
been going through the canvas backdrops and tying them onto solid
wooden bars that reached right across the performing space. Once
each backdrop was tied securely, it was hauled up into the fly
tower above the stage by Nick and Fenton with extra beef from Tony
and Gazza. Dennis was glad they didn’t ask him to help as he wasn’t
sure he could get through the square hole in the floor of the fly
tower that was the only means of access. Tony plainly found it a
tight squeeze, and it would have been embarrassing to get
helplessly stuck at the top of the wooden ladder far above the
stage. Perhaps when he lost some weight he’d be able to climb up
there and see what the other guys were laughing and joking about
with such hilarity far above his head.

“How are you enjoying this so
far, Dennis?” asked Jessica, leaning backwards to ease her spine.
“It can be hard work at times, but it’s fun, isn’t it?”

“Actually, it is,” he said. “I
wasn’t expecting it to be so social. You really feel like you’re
part of a team, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said with
satisfaction. “Good to hear you say so. I think we have another
convert. Welcome to the gang, Dennis! You do realise you’ll never
escape from the theatre’s clutches now, don’t you? Say goodbye to
sunlight and spare time – you belong in the dark with us from now
on!”

He shrugged and smiled. “Sounds
fine to me. Although I may escape to the gym from time to time – I
promised Cathy I’d be there.”

“Oh, good for you! I really
should get to a gym myself, but I never seem to have the time.
There’s always something urgent to do in this place, but I love it
to bits.” She patted the black wooden wall affectionately. “She’s
in pretty good shape for an old dame of 134, isn’t she? Needs a bit
of a facelift here and there, but her bones are sound. She’ll be
good for a few more years yet if we look after her properly.”

“So it was built back in – what,
1878? How many people actually lived in Whetford in those days?
Were there enough to fill a place like this?” He was surprised. As
far as he knew, the population of Whetford back then would have
been a handful of newcomers pitching tents along the riverbank.

“Oh yes – the night it opened
they crammed over a thousand people in here. Of course the floor
was new and strong then! And the theatre was the only entertainment
in town.” She was in full flood now, telling the theatre’s story
for what he guessed was at least the hundredth time. “Some really
big international acts came through Whetford, back in the day. For
the theatre’s centenary in 1978 the committee put together a big
variety show and the programme had a potted history of the theatre
listing all sorts of well-known stars that performed here.”

Dennis jumped in quickly with a
comment, just in case she intended to list them all. “No wonder you
love the place so much, it’s obviously really special.”

“Oh dear, has Jessica been
talking your ear off, Dennis?” Mark walked down the centre aisle of
the auditorium and vaulted lightly onto the stage. “She does go on
a bit when it comes to this place.” He gave Jessica a quick kiss.
“But we don’t mind because she’s such a lovely person. Jessica, if
you ever get tired of that policeman you’re living with, I’m next
in line, OK?”

“Why thank you Mark – it’s
always nice to have a reserve on the bench. What have you been up
to this afternoon? Is it a lovely day out there?”

“Yes, warm and sunny – far too
nice to be stuck indoors. I went for a long bike ride up the valley
to get some cardio endurance training. I figured you’d have plenty
of people for construction, and I’m going to need the fitness when
it comes to strutting my stuff here seven nights a week.” He struck
a muscle pose, tensing biceps and thighs that were lightly gleaming
with sweat.

Jessica faked a yawn. “Save it
for the paying customers. We’ll be seeing enough of you over the
next few weeks.” She flashed him a brilliant smile to take the
sting out of her words.

“Did you know that Dennis and I
are training together?” he asked her. “Cathy’s got her personal
trainer Vincenzo to design workout schedules for us and we’ll be
down at Intensity three days a week. He seems to know his stuff all
right – we’ll soon be babe magnets!”

Dennis winced inwardly. He
hadn’t really wanted it to be broadcast round the theatre, but
obviously there was no way to keep it secret now. Jessica looked at
him with new respect.

“So you’re actually training
with the guys are you, Dennis? Gosh, that’s even more impressive.
We’ll look forward to seeing your progress. Who knows, maybe we’ll
even see you on stage!” She laughed. Dennis didn’t, but a little
light went on inside his brain. Perhaps, one day, if he really did
get fit, he might have a body that would be worth looking at. The
thought cheered him.

At Dennis’s next gym session,
Vincenzo gave him a strenuous lower-body workout, handing him a
personalised plan written into a small booklet that would record
his progress. Dennis was pleased to find that he could cope quite
well with the squats and step-ups. He dutifully did his time on the
leg machines as well, working his quads and hamstrings. He was glad
to see Mark got more of Vincenzo’s attention this time, with close
personal supervision of his activities. Their dark heads bent over
the weight stand together.

“That’s good,” Dennis heard
Vincenzo say, “But you gotta do more to make the big muscle. Try
this heavier dumbbell, an’ squat lower.”

Mark’s face contorted with
effort but despite his strength he failed to complete the full set
of reps. “Man that’s hard work!” he said, wiping off with a damp
towel. “Are you giving the other guys these weights too? How are
they coping?”

“They do fine. They work hard,
build nice muscle. That’s because they’re taking some real good
protein supplements I give them, helps the bulking up.”

Dennis heard the comment and
raised an eyebrow. Talk of supplements immediately made him think
of all the bad things he’d heard about gyms, like pills and
steroids and how harmful they could be. Was this so-called
supplement really a steroid that would turn the actors into
slavering Incredible Hulks? He’d read about the pimples, the
towering rages, the shrunken testicles – surely the guys wouldn’t
be stupid enough to take drugs that would do that to their bodies,
would they?

“What sort of supplement?” Mark
asked Vincenzo.

“It’s a whey-based protein
powder with glutamine, creatine and electrolytes, very good
scientific formula,” Vincenzo assured him. “It comes in vanilla
flavour, or lemon, or chocolate fudge. Real nice. You make up a
shake in the morning, throw in an egg, that’s your breakfast. You
have one at night, after your workout, it builds muscle overnight
as you recover. You want I get you some too? It’s pretty expensive
so I…”

Dennis missed the rest of the
conversation as Mark and Vincenzo moved off to the far end of the
gym. It sounded like a rip-off to him. Whey powder? That didn’t
sound like a miracle product. And why would it be so expensive if
it was just dried milk powder? He made a mental note to Google it
later and see what he could find out. He might be able to save the
guys from making a costly mistake. Perhaps that was what Cathy had
got wind of. He frowned. It didn’t seem likely though, because
Vincenzo was such a nice guy. He’d been nothing but charming to
Dennis, helping him out with his exercise, praising his efforts and
being really encouraging. He seemed a glamorous figure, far from
the usual run-of-the-mill Whetford male and more like a foreign
movie star. He was the sort of person who probably had his own
tuxedo for formal occasions because he went to so many of them.

Dennis had drifted off into a
glittering fantasy world of casinos and James Bond, only to be
startled when a voice close to his ear said “Hey, isn’t that
supposed to be moving, Dennis? What you doin’ man? Dreaming?”

He jerked his legs back into
action, lifting the padded bar pressed against his shins to raise
the stack of weight plates beside him.

“Sorry, I was lost in my
thoughts there, Vincenzo!”

White teeth gleamed and dark
brown eyes twinkled. “You were day-dreaming, I think, no? Maybe off
somewhere lying on a beach in the sunshine, eh? Relaxing nice and
easy? Come on Dennis, get those reps done, build those legs, so
when you’re on the beach for real the babes will go ‘oooh!’ and run
to your side, man. When I finish training you, you’ll be a babe
magnet for sure.” He clapped Dennis on the shoulder with a warm
hand, making him believe the words really could come true.

Dennis finished his first
lower-body workout really pleased with himself. His legs were very
tired and shaky, but he felt he’d done a good job with his
exercises. He was even looking forward to doing the upper-body
workout the following night. He was starting to build a new mental
image of himself as a fit athlete, and he carefully avoided any
glimpse of his current fat sweaty body in the mirror that might
have broken the spell. Visions of competing in marathons one day
started to enter his head.

The next day he couldn’t
walk.

He sat on the edge of his bed
for several minutes after his first abortive attempt to stand up,
blinking in surprise. The pain in his thighs had seared through his
early-morning drowsiness and jolted him wide awake with a gasp. Had
his ligaments somehow torn away from the bone during his sleep? Had
he been stricken by some dire muscle-wasting disease in the night?
He fumbled in the bedside drawer for extra-strength painkillers and
downed two of them before edging his way around the bed and slowly
shuffling towards the bathroom.