"

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

Chapter 8   A big surprise

On the first Saturday of the season, something completely unexpected happened. We had completed the matinee performance to an audience almost completely consisting of school students, and Emma and I had taken off our costumes and put on trousers, tops, and a warm coat in order to go out to a local café for our usual light meal between performances. To my surprise, as we stepped outside the stage door, there was a gaggle of about six teenage girls in school uniforms, holding programs and pens, looking for autographs. I have to confess that I had obtained a copy of the program myself on the first night, and was thrilled to see my name and picture in it. I had then gone around and obtained the signatures of all the cast members and crew. I even got Sir Edgar to sign it. Now being asked for my own autograph was a real thrill and Emma and I chatted with the girls as we signed their programs.

One girl called Sandy was obviously an aspiring actress because she said to me “Miss Stow, can I ask you a question? When you finished your scene you looked so frightened and I thought you were really crying. Can you tell me how you do that please?”

“Well Sandy, as an actress, you try to really immerse yourself in the character, so you think as they would think, and feel as they would feel. I suppose you 'become' the character, anyway that's what I try to do. So you are right, when the light starts to fade in the wood, I really do feel frightened and often the tears start to flow. The strangest experience is when I come off stage and have to return to the 'real world'. That takes a few minutes to do.”

“Thank you Miss Stow. Seeing the play makes such a difference and you were all wonderful,” she said, and she and the other girls turned to walk off. It was only then that I became aware of a tall young man who had been standing back behind the schoolgirls.

“Hello Harriet,” he said.

“Reggie!” I gasped, “What are you doing here?”

“Joining your fan club it seems,” he said with a smile. I felt myself blushing. He was more handsome than ever. How ironic that I had been thinking of him only a few days earlier.

“But I thought you were going to York University when you finished school. Is this a holiday trip?”

Before he could answer, Emma stepped in.

“Hello Reggie, it's nice to see you again.”

“Err, you too Emma,” he replied looking slightly abashed.

Turning to me she said “Harriet, I have to go off and do that shopping I told you about. You and Reggie must have a lot of catching up to do, so why don't you take him for a cup of coffee and I'll see you back at the theatre.

Dear Emma – there was no shopping planned but she obviously didn't want to 'play gooseberry', and so worked out a way of absenting herself from the scene.

“Have you got time for a coffee Reggie?” I said.

“Oh yes, I'd love to,” he replied.

As we walked down the street together I explained that when we had two shows on one day, I liked to have a light meal to keep my energy levels up.

The café was only a few minutes away, and Reggie asked if he could order for me.

“I'd like poached eggs on toast and a cup of tea please,” I replied. He suggested that I find a table while he went to the counter. It was late afternoon and the café was almost empty, but I chose a table well away from the counter and other patrons so that we could talk without being overheard.

A couple of minutes later Reggie sat down, holding one of those little stands with a number which he placed on the table. I did offer to pay for my meal but he insisted that it was his treat.

“Now tell me about university,” I said. “And why you're in London now.”

“I do still intend to go to university, but after all those years of school, I decided to take a year off to see the world a bit and also earn some money. London isn't exactly the world but it's a lot different to Bridchester. Anyway, a friend of my father knows someone with a senior position in one of the big banks, and he offered to get me a job at a London branch, so here I am. But what about you, how did you come to be on the stage?”

At this point, the waitress arrived with a tray and two plates of poached eggs on toast, a pot of tea and two cups and saucers. “I was hungry too,” explained Reggie.

Once the waitress had left the table, I explained how it came about that I was acting on the stage in London instead of standing in the wings at Bridchester. Reggie listened with great interest. “I thought that sort of thing only happened in novels,” he commented.

“Well of course in the big productions like the West End, they have understudies ready to step in, but the Apollo Players can't afford that, so it was either me or no final performance,” I said.

“And you perform so well,” he said. “I was totally convinced.”

“So you've seen the play then?” I said, wondering if he meant totally convinced by the character, or totally convinced I was a girl.

“Yes, if fact I should explain how it came about; call it fate if you like. I'm sharing a flat with another guy in Southgate and take the tube to the city every day, so I pass through Finsbury Park but never had a reason to get off. Then on Thursday, my section head called me into his office and said that he had a satchel of important documents that had to go to the Finsbury Park branch urgently. There was a problem getting a courier, so he asked if I would leave work early and call in to the branch on my way home, so that's what I did.

“Now comes the fate part. Walking back to the tube station I took a wrong turn and was walking past the theatre when I glanced at the notice on the wall. I'd never heard of 'Dear Brutus' before and it seemed an odd name for a play, so I stopped to look more closely and that's when I saw 'Apollo Players' and Emma Stow and Harriet Stow in the cast. I must admit the name threw me a bit, but I felt I had to know if it was really you, so I went to the box office and bought a ticket. It must be going well as I managed to get one of the last seats up in the 'gods'. I bought a programme and saw your name and picture and that you were Emma's sister. I can tell you I was really intrigued. When I saw the play everyone was good but I thought you were outstanding. I felt I had to see you, so here I am.”

I felt myself colouring a bit. “I'm just lucky to have the most dramatic moment in the play, so everyone notices it,” I said, but I couldn't help feeling pleased at his comment.

He paused and I could tell there was a question he wanted to ask but didn't know how to phrase it, so I helped him out.

Lowering my voice I said, “You're probably wondering why I'm a girl off-stage as well as on.”

“Well, err,” was his response.

“It's quite simple. Sir Edgar insisted on me playing the role but he didn't want anyone to know about me in case it got in the tabloids; you know what they're like. So part of the deal was that all the time I'm in London I'm a girl.”

“And that doesn't bother you?”

“Oh no, I'm used to it now,” was my response. Strictly speaking that was true, but there was more to it than I chose to reveal at that moment.

I glanced at my watch; the time seemed to have flown by. “I'm sorry Reggie, but I have to get back to the theatre to get ready for tonight's performance.”

“I'll walk you back if you don't mind,” he said. “I managed to get a much better ticket tonight, It's a complex play and I think I'll get more out of it on a second viewing.”

As we walked back to the theatre, we made small-talk, but in my mind I was shouting ' Don't be shy, ask me out. Ask me out!' and wondering why convention insists that a girl should wait for a boy to make the first move.

I don't know if it was telepathy, but almost when we reached the stage door, Reggie suddenly said “Harriet, I'd really like to see you again. Do you get any time off?”

“Just Sundays,” I said, and then to emphasise the point “Like tomorrow.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” he asked.

“Well I was going to wash my hair,” I said, and then seeing the look of disappointment on his face hurriedly said “That's a girl joke, Reggie. Yes, I'm free and I'd love to go out with you.”

“Great,” he said, looking very relieved. “Anywhere special?”

“You may remember my Dad was very keen on medieval history. He always told me that when I went to London I should go to see Hampton Court Palace. Is that too far?”

“Not at all. In fact, I've been meaning to go there myself. My flatmate is away overseas at present and offered me the use of his car while he's away. Is nine o'clock too early to pick you up?”

I assured him that that would be fine and gave him the address of the hotel.

Then it was time to go in, so I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and entered the stage door, wondering if that was a move too far.

Emma was in the dressing room when I arrived.

“How was your date?” she asked with a grin.

“That wasn't a date, just a meal,” I replied, “But I am going out with Reggie tomorrow. Oh, and thanks for going off for your 'shopping trip' today. I really appreciated that.”

“Well I don't mind you seeing him,” she replied. “After all, he's a nice young man and he does know about you. By the way, I really did go shopping and I bought a lovely grey pleated woolen skirt. Perhaps you'd like to wear it tomorrow?”

“Emma, you're an angel,” I said and gave her a big hug. “I never realised having a sister could be so much fun.”

“Neither did I,” she said.

Aware that Reggie was out there watching in the darkness, I put on the performance of my life that evening. Even Emma and Shirley commented on it when I saw them in the dressing room afterwards.

“Of course she had an admirer in the audience,” said Emma with a wicked grin.

“He's just a friend,” I muttered, but I don't think they believed me, and I suppose my flaming cheeks didn't help.

I was up early Sunday morning, more than a little excited about the day ahead. The sun was shining, but it was January, so quite cold. I needed to wear something warm, but I still wanted to look feminine for Reggie, so after my shower, I took up Emma's offer of wearing her new woollen skirt together with black opaque tights, Emma's ankle boots, and a red woolen top.

I was in the middle of brushing my hair and carefully doing my make-up when Emma, who was still lying in bed said: “For a date that isn't a date, you seem to be taking a great deal of trouble with your appearance.”

Without thinking I replied, “Well a girl must try to look her best.”

Emma opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, leaving me to ponder on what I had just said. I had only been dressing as a girl for less than two weeks, but already it seemed so comfortable and natural. I knew about cross-dressers of course but in my eyes they were men who dressed as women for a variety of reasons, but this wasn't how I saw myself. It was certainly something to which I would have to give a great deal of thought, but in the meantime there was my day out with Reggie to look forward to, and maybe Emma was right – perhaps it was a date.

I attached my favourite earrings, picked up my handbag and went down to the dining room for a light breakfast, and at five to nine I went into the hotel reception area to await Reggie.

I stood up as he entered the hotel right on time, and it seemed to me that he did a double-take as he saw me, but he said: “Hello Harriet, you look nice.”

“Thank you,” I replied, having been coached by Emma in the art of receiving compliments.

Reggie looked good himself, wearing grey trousers, a roll-neck jumper and a leather coat, but it is not usual for a girl to compliment a man on what he is wearing.

“I've parked my flatmate's car just around the corner,” he said. “Shall we go?”

We walked down the street and then he paused beside a car, low-slung, in British Racing Green and with a fabric top.

“An MG!” I said with surprise. I never expected that.

“Yes, it's a TD Model. Richard my flat-mate is a sports car enthusiast. I was surprised when he said I could borrow it while he is away, but he assures me it's well insured. I hope you can get in alright,” he added as he opened the passenger door.

The MG Is very low-slung and I was determined not to show too much leg, even though I was wearing opaque tights. I lowered myself into the car, and then gathering my skirts, swung my legs in, keeping them close together. Anyhow, Reggie, being a gentleman had looked away. He closed the door and went around to the driver's side and got in. I'd never sat in an MG before; they are not large cars and we were cosily close together.

“Hampton Court opens at ten o'clock, so we've plenty of time, but if we get there early we might get to park at the Palace itself,” he said as he started the engine. It gave forth an impressively throaty roar as he headed into the traffic.

I thoroughly enjoyed the ride and was glad that Reggie had thoughtfully put up the top even though I was wearing my woolen hat. Even with the heater running, the car was a bit draughty, but I wasn't going to complain. We arrived at the Palace just before ten o'clock and were in luck, getting one of only three parking spaces left. Reggie opened the car door for me and I reversed my entry procedure, taking his hand to assist me in standing up. Much to my disappointment he then let go of my hand, but on our way to the entrance to the palace I somehow managed to trip and Reggie caught hold of me with his hand and continued to hold it for the rest of our time there, much to my satisfaction!

The palace was all that my father said and more. I hardly need to write a history of it since this is readily available online. Suffice it to say one of its most famous inhabitants was Cardinal Wolsey, once a favourite of Henry VIII, who upon falling out of favour with the king, made Henry a gift of it in an unsuccessful attempt to regain the king's friendship. Henry set about making many changes to it, as did a number of later monarchs. We saw the banqueting hall and the enormous kitchens designed to prepare food for the huge banquets; the Cumberland Gallery with many famous paintings, the wonderful gardens and of course the famous maze as well as many other areas.

We had lunch in the Privy Kitchen, a sixteenth-century dining hall, and Reggie told me about the ghosts who are said to haunt the palace. While I don't believe in them myself, I can't say I would care to spend a night there.

We finally left at four o'clock, not long before closing time. I did manage to persuade Reggie to let me pay for lunch but he insisted on paying the entry fee and parking costs. I didn't know how much he was paid, but I was now getting more money as an actor and didn't want to bankrupt him in case he thought I was too expensive to ask out again!

When we arrived back at the hotel it was already dark and Reggie found a parking space near to the entrance. I thanked him profusely for a lovely day, and when he said “Same time next week?”, my answer was “Yes please.”

I rather hoped he would kiss me, but when he didn't, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't respond with a kiss on the lips and I felt that I had gone as far as propriety allowed. Again Reggie assisted me out of the car, and I stood there and waved to him as he drove away.

Emma was in the bedroom reading a script when I arrived there.

“Have a good day?” she asked.

“A very good day I replied. “But I'm rather tired now. I think I'll have an early night.” I felt that she was going to interrogate me, and I wanted to avoid it, so I undressed, put on my nightie and got into bed.

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.