Text 1: On cue, by Nathan Cole

An original contemporary online feature.

The audience sees a drawing room, a moonlit garden and, after the interval, a railway station. From my position in the wings, I see labelled ropes, strips of tape on the floor and twelve people waiting for the next instruction through their headsets.

As deputy stage manager, I follow the performance from a marked-up script. I warn the lighting and sound operators before every change, then give the cue at exactly the right moment. During one busy scene, I call twenty-three cues in six minutes while actors hurry past me to change costumes.

The work demands concentration because a small mistake can become very public. Last week, a telephone rang before the actor had entered the room to answer it. We could not stop the performance, so the actor already on stage stared at the telephone and said, “Someone is certainly impatient.” The audience laughed and the scene continued.

Backstage is cramped, hot and almost dark. Scenery has to move silently through narrow spaces, and everyone communicates in whispers. Yet the team is remarkably calm. When a zip broke on a costume, two dressers repaired it with seconds to spare while I delayed an actor’s entrance.

At the final curtain, we stand out of sight while the applause goes to the performers. I do not mind. If the audience never notices our work, we have probably done it well.

Text 2: Recollections of the Royal Parade Theatre, by Samuel Price

An original memoir extract written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.

In this extract, set in 1879, a former stagehand recalls working at a busy theatre.

To the public, our enchanted forest appeared in an instant. Behind the painted trees were six sweating men, hauling ropes upon the signal of a little brass bell. I began as the smallest lad in the company and was sent beneath the stage to open the traps through which spirits and villains made their entrances.

We worked by the glow of covered lamps, for no light must escape onto the stage. The passages were so tight that two men carrying a piece of scenery could scarcely pass an actor coming the other way. We learnt every movement by repetition and listened closely for the bell that told us when to begin.

There was danger as well as excitement. During a Saturday performance, a rope snapped and part of the castle wall leaned towards the stage. Three of us held it upright until the scene ended. The audience applauded the actors, quite unaware that our arms were trembling behind the stones.

Changes of scenery had to be swift and quiet. Between two scenes, we removed a banquet hall and raised a stormy sea before the musicians had finished a short tune. Any man who dropped a tool or spoke loudly could spoil the illusion for a thousand people.

We were rarely seen and never named on the playbills, but I was proud of our crew. When the curtain fell and the audience stamped its approval, we shook hands in the darkness, knowing that the magic upon the stage had depended upon us.

Using information from both texts, explain briefly what it was like to work backstage in a theatre.

You should make it clear which text you are referring to.