Curtain Call

'Stand by, ladies and gentlemen, for the end of the opera and curtain calls.'

Sophie is seated on a high stool at the Prompt Corner of the stage, her face and headset illuminated in the dark by several tiny lamps. Before her is a bewildering array of switches and a bank of monitors that almost resemble the cockpit of an airplane. As Deputy Stage Manager, she is the hidden puppet master of the show. 

In her monitors, she can see the stage from all angles, as well as the conductor in the pit as he looms over his orchestra with fierce eyes and splayed fingers. On her desk is an imposing slab of a document, which contains all of the cues for the entire show. It is littered with brightly coloured labels, notes and bookmarks. Every few moments, throughout the duration of the performance, she leans into a small microphone and cues the multitude of unseen hands that help to create the illusion of magic on the stage. Standing next to her, her voice sounds barely louder than a mutter, but conveyed through the tannoy system, her calls will boom into every nook and cranny backstage. As well as the performers, she calls wigs technicians, makeup artists and dressers for the side-of-stage quick-changes. She cues up the special effects guys, the scene change guys, the lighting crew – everyone. 

'Prompt side electricians, this is your call to check the cloud machines. Mr Collins, this is your call to speed up the sea.' 

Sometimes I'll go to the side of the stage to watch the end of the show from the wings. Concealed in the darkness, I'll peer at the action from in-between ropes of cables or from behind the props table, where I'm out of the way and the air smells of hot dust. There is always the possibility that maybe tonight – just maybe – the heroine might live to see another day. But as the cellos swell like inky clouds and the timpani rumble like distant thunder, she will almost invariably meet a tragic end. 

'Good blood tonight,' a colleague might remark, as the heroine is stabbed and the blood bags burst on cue. 

And then... the final note is played. The lights are killed, and there will be a moment of blackness – just long enough for a breath – before the crowd in the auditorium will erupt into noise. In one moment, the performers were Gods, embodying huge emotions, archetypes and stunning artistry that transport the audience into another world. And in the very next, they are fragile humans once again. In the glare of full lights, they are sweaty and exhausted yet exhilarated, still flying on adrenaline. 

For particularly successful shows and especially on final nights, the roar of the audience can send chills up your spine. They whistle and cheer, stand up in their seats and stamp on the floors until the images in Sophie's monitors begin to tremble. 

If the applause is rolling on, the stage management will yell from the wings, 'Another one! Go for another one!' And the singers, strung out across the stage holding hands, will all stoop low once again until finally, the curtain drops. The sound of the audience falls away like water down a drain. The performers, alive with giggly hyper-chatter, hurry back to their dressing rooms, pouring up and down the staircases backstage. The orchestra members will be stowing their instruments back into cases outside the pit, the locks and catches clicking and clumping. Many of them will be making a long journey back to London, and there are trains to catch. 

In the corridors, the post-show energy is still high and tight. Doors bang and costume rails rattle as the laundry gets sorted, flung into designated plastic baskets while showers hiss in the dressing rooms. 

'Good night!' 

'Good night, see you next time!' 

Within thirty minutes, everything is pretty much wrapped up. The dressing rooms are empty. The wigs will have been packed into special cardboard boxes and wheeled away on a metal trolly. The costumes will be back in the costume store, filed away beneath dangling moth catching contraptions. Washing machines will be churning while the names on the dressing room doors are being changed over for the following night.

Thunderous booms emanate throughout the building from the stage as the night crew work on changing over the massive sets. They'll be going on until the early hours, but for the rest of us, it's back out into the fresh air of the starry night, leaving behind a world of magic and landing once again, into reality.