Elly Griffiths - The Vanishing Box

Location: The Hippodrome

Transcript: ‘It’s a good bill,’ s aid Bob, opening his programme. ‘A juggler, a comedian, someone called Madame Mitzi and her performing poodles. And Max Mephisto, of course.’ Behind Bob’s shoulder, Max and Ruby loomed out of a life-size poster. Magician and Daughter. Ruby peeping out from behind a top-hatted Max, her eyes dancing. A bell rang. ‘Come on,’ said Emma, ‘let’s go in.’ The complimentary seats were good ones, Row H of the stalls. The first seven rows were reserved for exclusive chairs called ‘special fauteuils’. Emma was surprised how opulent the Hippodrome looked from the inside: the domed ceiling, the ornate balconies, the swagged velvet stage curtains. You hardly noticed that the seats were a little threadbare and that some of the gilt cherubs had lost their noses. ‘My parents used to come here before the war,’ she told Bob. ‘They saw Max Miller and the Crazy Gang.’ ‘Variety isn’t what it used to be,’ said Bob solemnly. But, sitting in the theatre, listening to the orchestra playing ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’, it didn’t seem that Variety was dead and buried just yet. The audience were surprisingly elegant too, lots of jewellery and bow ties, swirls of velvet and satin. You could imagine that you were back in pre-war days when people dressed for dinner and tailcoats were not exclusively worn by musicians or waiters. ‘It’s starting,’ said Bob.’