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The Might-Have-Been Girl A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright 2015

Chapter 3 The Performance

Through the curtain I heard the music fade up. There is a tiny peephole, and I peered through to see that the house was full. I felt my heart-rate increase even though I wasn't due on-stage for about forty minutes.

The first act finished and there was some generous applause as the curtain came down. The stagehands swiftly but silently ran onto the stage to change the set while some of the flats were hoisted into the flies and others descended. I never tire of watching how they act like a well-oiled machine, but I take care not to get in their way. In two minutes everything was ready for Act Two, where I would be appearing in the second half.

Robin said quietly “Break a leg,” the traditional 'good luck' remark in the theatre as I gave a nervous smile and left him, walking around backstage to the OP side upstage where I would be entering at my cue.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to include a brief summary of the play to explain my part. You can find the whole play online if you wish. Written by J.M. Barrie, in some ways it resembles Shakespeare's “A Midsummer Night's Dream”, and basically is a play about second chances and whether they will change us.

A group of people is invited to spend midsummer night's eve at a country mansion called Sinister Warren, by the owner, a gnome-like character Mr Lob. Each has a regret about their life and when in Act Two, they enter a wood which magically appears surrounding the house, they have a chance to change things. A failed and alcoholic painter called Dearth wishes he had had a daughter, and in the wood she – Margaret, my part – appears, and they have a wonderful time together as he paints the moonlit scene before him. The audience knows that she is not real, and so in a way does Dearth, but Margaret herself does not seem to know this.

As I stood in the wings with Ross I'd never felt more nervous in my life. I looked up at him and whispered “Do you ever get nervous before you go on stage Ross?”

“All the time,” he replied. “There would be something wrong if I didn't.”

He took my hand and gave it a squeeze “You'll be fine,” he said.

Suddenly it was my cue, and taking a deep breath, I ran onto the stage to where Dearth's easel was leaning against a tree, calling out “Daddy Daddy I have won.” as he followed behind me.

How can I explain what it is like acting on stage before a full theatre if you have never experienced it? You cannot see the audience of course apart from the first couple of rows, and convention says that you almost always ignore them, but you are certainly aware that they are there and reacting to the scene before them. They seem to generate an energy that you can tap into and use in your performance. Despite our short rehearsal, Ross and I really bounced off each other and the audience laughed at some of our exchanges. A hint of what is to come is when I say “Daddy, what is a might-have-been?” and he replies “A might-have-been? They are ghosts, Margaret.”

Towards the end of the sequence, Dearth encounters his wife whom he does not recognise since she now appears as a homeless woman searching for food. He resolves to return to the house to find her some, and Margaret suddenly frightened, tries to stop him leaving her but he insists, saying he'll be back before she can count to a hundred.

I stood in the centre of the stage as Ross walked off singing a song. The theatre was deathly quiet as if the audience was collectively holding its breath. I started to count out loud, my voice shaking, but the wood was growing darker and I began to feel afraid. Abandoning my counting I began to run from tree to tree calling out for him. Tears started to roll down my cheeks as I cried out in agony my final line “Daddy come back, I don't want to be a might-have-been.” and with that, I ran off stage half-blinded by tears and fortunately David was there and caught me in his arms. He held me as my body shook, stroking my hair and say “There, there, it's alright. You were wonderful” Then he looked up and said, “Do you hear that?” I raised my head to listen and it seemed to me that I heard the sound of thunder.

“It's applause,” he said, “They're applauding you.”

The curtain had come down at the end of Act Two. David was of course very generous in his comment. The audience was really applauding all the cast, but it is fair to say that some of it was for me.

David handed me a handkerchief and I dabbed at my eyes.

“I'm sorry, David,” I said, “You must think me very stupid to get so worked up.”

“Not at all,” he replied.”Don't tell anyone I said so, but that was the best performance of Margaret that I've ever seen.”

A few minutes later Act Three began, where all the characters, except me of course, returned to the house and their original lives, but some like Dearth are changed by their experiences in the wood, and it's implied that he will overcome his alcoholism, although towards the end he is shattered to realise he has lost his daughter. Other characters are not changed at all, hence the Shakespeare quotation from which the title is taken. "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves."

I waited off-stage as the final act played out. Fortunately it is not very long. Other cast members and even the
stagehands were coming up to me and whispering 'Well done” and other compliments. You may think I would have developed a swelled head, but to be honest my main feelings were relief that I had performed as well as everyone had expected of me and not let the company down, and there was also a tinge of sadness that before long it would all be over and I would return to being plain old Harry once more.

As the curtain fell for the final time, we arranged ourselves for our curtain calls. When my turn came I walked on-stage with Ross who had played my father, holding his right hand, and Emma as his wife, walked on from the other side and took my right hand. We took our bows to thunderous applause, and then Emma and Ross very generously stepped aside and I took a bow on my own. The applause if anything seemed to grow louder, and now the house lights were half up, and I saw her – my mother in the third row clapping like mad, and as I smiled at her I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. I stepped to the side of the stage as the other cast members came on to take their bows. Finally we all joined hands in a line across the stage and I saw that the audience was now standing as they clapped, Mum amongst them.

The curtain came down and rose again and still they clapped. David gestured from the wings and we each individually took a bow, and then joined hands once more. Some of the stage staff came on and gave a bouquet of flowers to each of the women, including me. Then David walked onto the stage and the applause finally ceased.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is David Soames and I had the honour of directing this talented company in the final production for this year. While everyone played their roles to the high standard you have come to expect, I'm sure they will not mind if I make particular mention of Miss Harriet Stow who stepped in to play the role of Margaret at very short notice when our original cast member Mary Green became indisposed”

Believe it or not, the audience began to clap again! David had to hold up his hand to get silence.

“We thank you so much for your support this year and look forward to entertaining you with a new programme, starting next February. In the meantime, don't forget that the Regal Players will be performing their annual pantomime starting on Boxing Day. This year it's 'Puss in Boots', an old favourite and I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

We all stepped back to more applause and the curtain came down for the final time as the house lights came up. I felt rather sad, knowing that I now had to give up Margaret. Emma took me by the arm to walk back to the dressing room.

“Well, what do you think of acting now?” she said. “All that applause and you get paid for it too!”

We were just about to leave the stage when David called me back. Behind him was a young man carrying a camera.

“The local paper is going to write an article about the end of our season and they want a picture of you and Ross in the wood,” he said.

Two of the stagehands brought out a few of the trees and the easel and chair, and the photographer arranged us with Ross sitting at the easel and me standing behind him with my hand on his shoulder appearing to look at the painting. The photographer took a few shots, slightly altering the pose each time and then said he had enough.

“Thank you sir, thank you miss,” he said politely.

When he was out of earshot, Ross said “Well miss, time for us to get changed.”

Emma had waited for me, and when we arrived back in the dressing room she and Shirley got changed and then Emma helped me by removing my make-up and unzipping my dress, pointing out where my own clothes lay on a chair in the corner. They both left, Emma saying she would wait outside for me. I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness as I stepped out of my dress and slowly removed my shoes, tights and underclothes. I reluctantly dressed in my own clothes, and then with a final look around the room, walked outside.

Emma was waiting for me, saying “Come on slow-coach, we've got the end of run party to go to.”

I never felt less like a party in my life, but I did my best to pull myself together. We walked together to the hall at the back of the theatre which is sometimes used for rehearsals. Tables had been set up with food and drink and we were greeted by the other cast members who were already there. I felt strangely out of place. All the others looked the same apart from their stage clothes, but I was now a young man instead of a girl. The other cast members were generous in their praise of my performance but it almost seemed like they were talking about someone else. Then someone started up the CD player and there was some dancing. To my surprise, Robin entered with my mother, saying he had found her outside. She rushed up to me and hugged me.

"Darling, you were wonderful!" she said. "I'm so proud of you."

Robin said "Mrs Stow, you have a very talented son." and I suddenly thought to myself 'But I don't want to be her son, I want to be her daughter.'

Mother is the person who knows me best in all the world and she could tell I wasn't myself. She probably thought I was coming down from the high of all the applause and excitement, and she was partly right, but only partly. Anyway, we left the party after an hour as I was dog tired, and David kindly ordered a taxi for us. Ten minutes after we arrived home I was in bed and probably asleep five minutes later. I don't know what time Emma arrived home, but then she's old enough to look after herself.

It was about nine o'clock the next morning when we got up. My head was pounding, and I thought that this must be what a hangover feels like, even though I'd only had a small glass of champagne, so I took a couple of paracetamol tablets. We were in the kitchen having a late breakfast when the phone rang. Emma answered it and came back after a couple of minutes with a puzzled look on her face.

“It was David on the phone. He asked if he could come around to discuss something with us. He says it's urgent and important, so I said he could come around in half an hour.”

To be continued.

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Louise Anne in proofreading the text and giving me a great deal of useful advice about modern-day Britain to incorporate in the story.