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

Chapter 6 The season starts

Christmas Day dawned cool, but with a clear sky. Emma and I were taking Mum out to lunch in the city, so after a light breakfast we retired to our rooms to get ready. Emma had brought down a gorgeous dark green shantung silk dress for me to wear, and naturally enough I wore sheer tights and the five-inch heels which I had now graduated into wearing. Her own dress was blue silk with matching shoes and looked wonderfully elegant. She checked my make-up and pronounced it 'very good'. My hair was now quite long and I had used curlers to give it a nice wave in an almost 'retro' style. When Mum knocked on our door and showed off her own grey silk dress, we decided that we all looked very smart indeed! We did however put on our woollen coats in view of the chilly weather.

We had booked Tom the taxi driver to take us down to the restaurant and he arrived at eleven-thirty.

“Well I'll be....” he remarked. “You ladies look like you're going to Buckingham Palace.”

“Not this year, Tom,” I said, “But next year – who knows?”

As we drove into the city, Mum asked him if he minded working on Christmas Day.

“I'm only working until mid-afternoon, and then I'm going home for the slap-up dinner the missus is cooking for the family,” he replied. “Turkey, ham and all the trimmings, plus Christmas pud of course.”

This time I paid the fare out of my new improved pay and added a generous tip of about twenty percent as suggested by Emma. We wished Tom and his family a Merry Christmas and said we would be bound to see him in a day or two.

When we entered the restaurant, we left our coats at the cloakroom, and at the risk of sounding boastful, I believe we turned a few heads as the waiter showed us to our table. Most of the ladies there were nicely dressed of course, but Emma and I had the advantage of youth, and I suspect a few husbands might have received a kick under the table for paying far too much attention to the newcomers!

Describing what we had to eat would be a bit boring, so I will content myself with saying that our traditional Christmas lunch was excellent, and as Mum said, there was the added bonus of 'no washing up'! Our first course was served about twelve-thirty, and it was after three o'clock when we finally got up from the table. I didn't feel like eating again for a week! Emma and I had agreed to split the bill, so she paid, with me paying my half early the following week when the banks opened again.

We had booked a taxi as it would be hard to hail one on Christmas Day, and were driven back to Finsbury Park. The hotel staff had set up the dining room as a buffet. We didn't need any more to eat of course, but helped ourselves to coffee and after-dinner mints before going to sit in the lounge and watch some television. Some of the other cast members were there too and complimented us on how we looked. I thought to myself that this would never have happened if I'd been Harry. Yet another advantage of being a girl.

This was undoubtedly the best Christmas I could remember since Dad died. I did not expect any further presents since the cost of my breasts was quite enough, but Mum and Emma knowing how much I enjoy reading, jointly gave me a book gift card for Foyles in Charing Cross Road, one of the best and most famous book stores in London. I determined to take the tube down there when I had some free time and enjoy an hour or two browsing.

I had bought Mum a bottle of her favourite perfume, and for Emma, knowing she was a 'girly' girl (and wasn't I glad of that with all the clothes she had lent me) Mum and I had clubbed together to buy her a gift card from the Victoria's Secret lingerie store. We were all extremely pleased with our gifts.

With Boxing Day being the opening of the play, we did not stay up too late, especially as David had requested a further rehearsal in the morning. To our surprise though, we had a phone call at eight-thirty the next morning, saying that the rehearsal was cancelled and that he would like to see us at the theatre at six o'clock. It turned out all the other cast members received the same message.

Emma and I took Mum out for lunch at a small local café, and then returned to the hotel for what is now described as a 'nanna nap' so that we would be really fresh when we arrived at the theatre. When we got there, we were all asked to assemble on the stage, and David addressed us.

“I canceled today's rehearsal because I felt that you were becoming 'over-rehearsed',” he said, “I didn't want you to become stale, and I know that you all know your parts very well after the Bridchester run. It's not necessary to emphasise the importance of tonight's performance. The London critics will be here and they can be pretty fierce at times. I believe Sir Edgar will come too, so no pressure!” He got the desired laugh in response to that remark.

“I won't bore you with a long speech. You all know what you have to do, so just go for it; oh and enjoy yourselves too.”

Someone asked, “What are the ticket sales like?”

“About three-quarters full, but there will be some who just roll up and hope for a seat, so that's pretty good, considering we are in competition with all the West End shows.”

“Perhaps we'll get the people couldn't get into those,” remarked Ross to some laughter.

“And perhaps they wanted a change from 'Aladdin' or 'Mother Goose',” said David and I thought he sounded a little annoyed. “O.k., folks, I'll leave you to get ready now.”

Emma, Shirley and I headed off to our dressing room. We had plenty of time, but that last hour before a show starts can go awfully quickly, and nothing looks worse than a show starting late, especially if it's because someone isn't ready.

We went into our usual routine with Emma and Shirley getting into costume first and having their hair done and doing their make-up. Then it was my turn to get ready and have my hair and make-up done. I then wandered around to the Prompt Corner which I hadn't had a chance to see properly to date. A tall and rather handsome young man was standing there.

“Hello, I'm Harriet. I've come round to have a look at your equipment,” I said.

“Really!” he responded, and I blushed scarlet, realising what I had said.

“I mean the stage equipment. I'm assistant stage manager at Bridchester when I'm not acting.” I said hurriedly, trying to conceal my confusion – rather unsuccessfully I fear.

He laughed. “I know what you meant. I'm Monty, by the way, named after the field-marshall. So you're the girl who stepped in when the other girl took ill. Real 'A Star is Born' stuff.”

“I'm sure it's happened to other people,” I replied, starting to enjoy our conversation. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“But it helps that you can act,” he replied. “I've been watching you at rehearsals.”

“I hope I do better tonight. The dress rehearsal was a shocker.”

“That often happens,” Monty said, “The times you have to worry is when the D.R. goes perfectly.”

Then he showed me the stage equipment they have which was a great deal more sophisticated than we have at Bridchester.

Monty glanced at his watch. “Five minutes to curtain up.”

“I'll get out of your way,” I said.

“See you later,” said Monty, and I thought to myself 'I wouldn't mind that at all'. followed by 'Good heavens, I'm really starting to think like a girl.'

The performance went very well indeed. I have already recorded my observation that playing to a full or nearly full house makes the world of difference to the actors. I was pleased with my own performance although one can always find something to improve. I had been afraid that I wouldn't find the same intensity of emotion at the end of the scene, but once more I found tears springing into my eyes as the wood darkened and I ran desperately seeking my father and calling out to him. As the curtain came down the applause was loud and prolonged, and at the end when we took our bows, I had no reason to complain at the generous applause I received.

We'd organised a ticket for Mum of course, and when she caught up with us at the stage door, she congratulated us on a great performance. “Of course people will say I'm biased, but all those people applauding can't be wrong,” she said.

David was very happy after the performance and congratulated us on a job well done. It was a big difference to how he had seemed after the dress rehearsal. The big test would be how the critics reviewed it.

The next morning we were all up early to see the newspapers which were delivered to the hotel. Most of us gathered in the sitting room as Emma paged through to the Entertainment Section of one of the most prestigious papers and immediately began to read out the review.

“ 'Provincial Company Impresses with 'Brutus'. ' by Reginald Broomfield.

The Third Act where the couples return from their experiences in the wood to contemplate their future was well handled, and the play concluded to a standing ovation. The season only goes for a month, so my advice is to get in quickly for what might well prove to be the hottest ticket in town.

“Well I never. Did anyone here know that 'Brutus' was in this year's GCSE?” asked Emma.

“Sir Edgar obviously did,” came a voice from the back of the room to some laughter.

“It should certainly guarantee some full houses,” came another voice, “He might even extend the run.”

Just then David came into the room. “Well gang, I think we can say you nailed it, according to the critics. Don't worry about Broomfield's little snipe about Act One. I've never yet read one of his critiques where he didn't have something to say to prove his superior knowledge.”

“Did you know about the GCSE thing?” said Ross.

“No I didn't, and neither did Duncan,” replied David, “But it should guarantee us some near full houses for the run, so I'm not complaining.”

After that four other critiques were read out and they were all positive. I was pleased in a way that I wasn't singled out to be named, although one did mention the dramatic conclusion to Act Two when 'you could have heard a pin drop'. I was getting concerned that too much attention on me might start provoking jealousy among the other cast members, all of whom, in my opinion, were doing a first-rate job. I was just lucky to be handed the most dramatic sequence in the play.

The following day it was time for Mum to return home. Emma and I were a bit concerned about her being in the house on her own, but she assured us that our neighbours would be keeping an eye on her, and we both knew that they could be relied upon to do that. We promised to ring every day and tell her how things were going.

The next few performances went equally well, and as if to confirm the critic's suggestion, there seemed to be increasing numbers of secondary school students in the audience. I have to say that seeing a play performed makes it much easier to understand than just reading the text.

I had got into the habit of calling around to the prompt corner and chatting, or more accurately flirting with Monty. It was such fun being a girl and knowing that he found me attractive and wanted to be in my company. It was during the fourth evening performance that as I ran off the stage at the end of my scene he caught me in his arms and started to kiss me. I was slightly shocked; I'd never kissed anyone on the lips before but I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially when our tongues engaged, and I felt the response of his body which indicated that he was enjoying it very much indeed. We didn't prolong the kiss too much in case someone appeared – there were always stagehands wandering around, but then what business was it of theirs?

That evening when Emma and I were in our bedroom she suddenly said: “I saw you and Monty this evening.”

With my cheeks flaming I could hardly say “What do you mean?” but instead said defensively “I'm sure you've kissed plenty of boys in your time, and enjoyed it.”

“You're right of course,” she replied, “but there is a slight difference. If Monty gets wind of who you really are the implications could be horrendous. Supposing he decided to make a few quid by going to the tabloids?”

“He wouldn't do that,” I replied hotly, but still it did give me pause to think. “Alright, I take your point. Can you try to be there when I come off stage, please? That should avoid a repeat performance.”

I felt I was giving up some enjoyment unnecessarily as I had no intention of letting Monty get so close that he would get a surprise, but still, Emma had a lot more experience with boys than I did, and when she said “Sometimes when a girl is with a guy that she really likes, things can go further than she intended”, I assumed that she was speaking from personal experience so I had to concede that she could be right.

I'm sure that Monty fully expected a repeat performance the following night and no doubt he was a bit annoyed to find that Emma was waiting in the wings for me when I came off stage and that this was to continue throughout the season.

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; also Melanie for some very constructive comments.