‘That’s the owner of this place, Marcus Crillick. He’s been cheating you, laughing at you with his fancy friends. I’ve never even been to Africa; I was born in St Giles, just down the road from here.’

A tankard arced up towards Crillick’s box, and beer dregs rained down on the stalls. Another missile meant for me landed short and caught a man on the head, knocking off his hat. Pushing and shoving and a man in the second row fell on to the people in front of him. His friends turned to find the culprits and the first punches were thrown. There were screams from the women’s side of the theatre and others joined in the fray, egging on the men as they traded blows. Glass bottles, plates, and even a chair, went flying through the air, thrown with no thought for where they might land. Another scuffle broke out in the seated area, and then another. Within minutes the whole audience was fighting or fleeing, scrambling over each other to leave or to land a blow.

It was glorious, but I knew I didn’t have long before they turned on me too. I moved to the back of the stage out of range of their projectiles. I looked up to the left and saw a movement at Crillick’s box. It was too far away to make out the expression on his face, but how perfect that he’d had a front-row seat to see his house of lies come crashing down. For a brief moment, I soaked it all in, the shouting and the grunts of men and women fighting. Now there was the splintering of wood as benches and tables were upended and stamped on. I’d seen enough. I turned on my heel and left the stage.

Barky was gone. I knew he’d have moved straight away to get the other performers to safety like I’d asked, but Ellen was still standing in the wings, her mouth half-open; she’d seen it all.

‘Goodbye, Ellen,’ I said as I pushed past her.

I set my shoulders and walked down the corridor. Nothing left in the dressing room for me, but I did want to go to the foyer. I went straight to the Amazonia poster, reached up and tore out one long strip. From the nave to the chaps. The expression came to me and I tore another strip and then another, growing more and more frenzied until the poster was in shreds.

My coat was still in a ball where I’d left it behind the door that opened out into the foyer. I could hear the sounds of fighting as I eased it on and popped the collar. No more back alley for me. I walked straight out of the front entrance and left Crillick’s theatre and the Great Amazonia behind me.

XXX

Within the Odditorium