The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1378 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The next day, we read through the play with some movements and scenery. Matthew is absolutely useless. They have different coloured tapes on the floor, and the guy who plays Macduff is great–he’s a local rep player as are a few more of the main parts–Banquo for instance. Be difficult for a sixteen year old girl to pretend to be a battle-hardened warrior, even with some muck on her face.

At lunchtime, Matthew disappeared, Gordon announced he had a migraine–I thought you needed a brain first? So many film actors started their careers on the stage, learning the business from the bottom up–then go on to make their fortunes in film or West End productions, sometimes even get to Broad Street.

So suddenly, we have his understudy–a sixteen year old girl called Heidi Hurplestrumpf–I know, I don’t believe it either. However, she was the same size as I which is smaller than all the men–didn’t know Macb was a pygmy did you. She is also as blonde as they come–naturally blonde with practically no eyebrows, they’re so fair–mine don’t show much unless I use makeup, but hers were invisible except when very close to–oh and she had the bluest eyes I think I’ve ever seen–like reflections of the sky. She was very pretty and skinny as a rake except for her breasts–they were large by comparison and it’s very difficult trying to call someone, ‘my lord’, when their chest comes to you several seconds before the rest of their body.

But like a true amateur, I soldiered on–nah, that’s Macb and Banquo–at least until he has him murdered–me I’m the power behind the throne–Lady Machiavelli at your service.

We got the moves for the first two acts sorted and some of the scenery and props were used. They’d be transferred to the school’s hall a couple of days before we started, and that would include having the stage marked up and so on. It was all getting very stressful.

Finally, the next day we got a message that Matthew had glandular fever–good old Barr-Epstein–and would be withdrawing from the event, he was very sorry and all that... He was probably the only one–although we couldn’t work with a schoolgirl playing the chief villain when all the main cast were adults. It looked as if the curse of the Scottish play had struck again.

We carried on until lunchtime when some were in favour of calling the whole thing off, without mention of potatoes or tomatoes. Then as I was finishing my lunch and wrestling with the Guardian crossword, I was aware of someone’s shadow over my newspaper.

I looked up and standing in front of me was Iain McPherson–wow–think Colin Firth with a Scots accent. “Is this the rehearsal room?” he asked in a very slight brogue.

“It is, can I help?” I stood up–now this guy could act Matthew Hines off any screen or stage.

“I’m looking for Gordon Rashley.”

I’ll come and help you, let’s start in my bedroom–“He popped out for a moment–shouldn’t be long.”

“Aye, okay–I’ll wait.”

“Would you like a cuppa?” I pointed to our meagre canteen facilities.

“Aye, that would be nice.” As soon as he spoke my tummy did somersaults and I floated to the kettle and boiled it–two minutes later I had two mugs of tea and he was adding to my solutions of the crossword.

“I just love crosswords,” he said slightly burring his Rs–no listen carefully, I roll mine, he’s a bloke–oh forget it.

“I like Araucaria puzzles,” I said which given that the compiler was Enigmatist didn’t mean very much at all.

“Aye, he’s very guid, he’s an elderly clergyman.”

“Yes, I know–they did a feature on him on his eightieth birthday.”

“Och, course they did–I remember now.”

“Iain, you old devil, good to see you,” Gordon called as he entered the hall.

“Aye, you said to be here at two–I wis, whaur were you?”

“Ah dear boy, hush hush stuff–have you read the part?”

“Read it, I’ve played it twice and Macduff once, I think I know it reasonably well–who’s ma leading lady?”

“You’ve been talking with her, a real lady, might I introduce, Lady Catherine Cameron, Iain McPherson.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Catherine, I had no idea–I’ve not worked with you before have I? No, I’d ha’ remembered.”

“You wouldn’t have worked with me unless you did university teaching.”

“Ye’re a teacher?” he looked perplexed. “Gordon, ye telt me this wis mainly pro actors wi’ some schoolkids helping the secondary parts.”

“I think you’ll find that Lady C makes a good Lady M.”

“I hope so, I didn’t realise I wis riskin’ ma career for t’ do ye a favour.”

“The risk is small, I assure you. Okay everyone, can we start another read through–this is Iain McPherson who’s taking over from Matthew.”

Iain waved to acknowledge the applause–I wasn’t quite so pleased with him though, he had an ego bigger than mine. Oh well, on with the show.

Two hours later and I was exhausted–Iain was wonderful and he was full of apologies for me–he realised I’d overheard his grumbles. He was happy with my Hieland/Lallans mixture and his own accent grew a little in response.

“Ye must let me tak’ ye tae dinner tae mak’ up f’ ma rudeness earlier.”

“I can’t Iain, I’ve got children to sort out–but I’d be delighted for you to come round to my house–mind you I’ve been out since breakfast, so you’ll have to take us as you find us.”

“I can’t put ye through all that, ye need tae be wi’ yer family an’ yer bairns.”

“I insist, besides Simon, my husband, is a fan of yours–he loved your part in Richard III, and The Merchant.”

“God, that wis three or four years ago.”

“He’s also seen one or two of your films–Ivanhoe was brilliant, and so was that thriller you did with Helen Mirren.”

“Och she’s wonderfu’, the complete actress–though, ye’re nae bad yersel’.” He said winking at me.

“Gosh, look at the time–I’ve got to dash, eight o’clock then?”

“Aye, if ye’re sure.”

“I absolutely insist, besides when my eldest daughter hears you're coming she’ll probably cancel her plans for the next fortnight.”

He laughed, “Ye canna be auld enough tae hae a dochter mair than seven or eight.”

“She’s seventeen, and very beautiful.”

“She taks after her mither.”

I blushed and dashed off home, stopping at the supermarket to grab a chicken and some cream. Then it was home, change and cut up the chook and whack it in the oven with a few herbs and spices for a coq au vin–okay, hardly original but it’s fairly quick–or my version is.

The younger children were fed and watered and told they would be going to bed early as we had a guest, whom they could meet but then they had to disappear. I let them have extra chocolate ice cream as bribery to comply–the alternative was to lock them in the cellar–nah, they’d probably drink all Tom’s wine.

“Don’t leave your coat there, sweetheart, hang it up please.” I gently chivvied Julie when she came in.

“What’s for tea–I’m starvin’?”

“Iain McPherson,” I said smugly.

“What we gettin’ a leg each?”

“I wish,” I sighed.

“C’mon, Mummy, I gotta be out at eight.”

“You don’t want to meet him, then?”

“Meet who?”

“Iain McPherson.”

“’Course I do, but stop teasin’ me.”

“He is coming to dinner–Matthew’s dropped out, he’s taken over as Macbeth.”

“You what? A Hollywood superstar is comin’ to dinner an’ you didn’t warn me?”

“I only found out myself at six o’clock–so are you stopping or going out?”

“Go out? Bugger that–what shall I wear?” she started walking round in circles.

“Smart casual–you’re not trying to impress–he’s ten or fifteen years older than you.”

“Yeah, so?–Oh he prefers older women, does he?” she poked out her tongue and ran up stairs before I swipe her one.