Read Online A Christmas Homecoming by Anne Perry - Free Book Online Page A

over her own mouth as if to prevent anything from entering it.
    Ballin went on. He described a rat, clicking his fingernails on one another like rat feet on the floor. He wrinkled his nose, sniffing. He pounced on an imaginary rat, squeaking as the creature might, and made a movement as if tearing off its head.
    Caroline felt her stomach clench and was glad she had not just eaten her luncheon. In her mind’s eye she could clearly see the miserable Renfield, reduced to an insane caricature of the man he had been, so in thrall to the vampire that he imagined he could survive only by such means.
    Ballin handed the script back to Joshua and straightened his back. The obscene pleasure left his face.
    “There is nothing wrong with Miss Netheridge’s words,” he said quietly. “Although perhaps fewer of them are needed, if the actor portrays Renfield himself rather than Van Helsing telling us about him. Why should Van Helsing not be a man of imagination andempathy, even if it is for such a poor wretch as Renfield? That would enable the audience to see for themselves the man’s decline as Dracula’s ascendancy over him strengthens. It must be emotionally more powerful. And perhaps it also explains Van Helsing’s greater ability to understand the vampire itself: an empathetic imagination, no?” He made it half a question, but the answer was obvious.
    Joshua was smiling. He took the script back and made a brief note in the margin. “You’re quite right, Mr. Ballin,” he said graciously. “We can create a far more powerful image with imitation rather than mere description, and in doing so, cut out a page or so of words. And we can use the same device later on, to show the cause of his decline. Thank you.”
    Ballin bowed. “It is my privilege to take part in your work, even if by so small a contribution.”
    “It’s not small,” Joshua replied. “It is always difficult to reduce a cast drastically, and this helps us to conjure for the audience the characters we can’t afford to play, but also cannot cut entirely.”
    They read on through Lucy’s death scene. The man she loved was one of the many characters who had beencut out, and without him the scene lacked emotion, witnessed and felt only by Harker and Van Helsing. It appeared as if a stranger had died rather than somebody loved and cherished; there was nothing moving about it.
    “We can dim most of the stage here?” Joshua said, frowning. “Perhaps create more deliberate shadows?”
    Alice was not happy with the idea. “But at this point, it seems Lucy has gone peacefully, to escape the pain she had,” she said. “We don’t know yet what has really happened to her. Wouldn’t dimming the stage to darkness be too much of a hint at what’s to come?” Then she blushed at her boldness in challenging him.
    “For heaven’s sake,” Douglas said irritably. “Nobody’s going to be so involved that it’ll matter! It’s a story, a piece of make-believe to entertain. I’m sorry, Alice, but it just doesn’t matter.”
    She ignored him entirely, as if he had not spoken at all. But the pallor of her face and the muscles of her neck, which showed rigid above her lace collar, gave away the fact that she had heard him.
    “I don’t think we should create more shadows,” Alice said to Joshua, as if they were the only two present. “Ithink we should keep Mina here. After all, she is one of the strongest and most sympathetic characters, and she and Lucy were friends all their lives. Mina’s grief can be ours. It wouldn’t be difficult to write her in. I can do it this evening.”
    Joshua hesitated only a moment. “Good. We don’t need much in the way of words, just the sight of her face. Give it to Mercy when you’ve finished.” He turned to Vincent, who was standing at the back of the stage looking elaborately bored.
    “Let’s run the bit where Lucy attacks the children. That needs more work. It’s still awkward. We’ll go through the scene in the