Chapter Twelve
The Old Vic was a national treasure.
“Will you look at this,” Jill said to Bobby as they strolled to center stage. “This is what a theater should be.” She was looking out at the lavish tapestries, the chandeliers, the rich vibrant frescoes, the gilded boxes that held the reserved seats for the privileged few, and the raked seating for the plebs that extended out from the far side of the orchestra pit.
“It opened in 1818 when a performance space was supposed to be opulent,” Bobby replied. “You never performed here?”
“Never... ”
“Me neither. It only seats a bit over one-thousand patrons. That’s pretty limiting in this day and age. Hard to make any money, but don’t dare suggest they knock out the back wall and expand!”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“The Manger is an old acquai
