There is Nothing like a Dame A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright© 2017 & 2018 Bronwen Welsh A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl' and 'All the World's a Stage'

Chapter 21   Tanglewood

Reggie was returning to England the following day and I wouldn't see him again for a month. I clung to him during the night, feeling miserable that we were to be parted again so soon. We would be in contact every day by telephone or email of course, but it wasn't the same.

“Did I make a mistake becoming a professional actress?” I asked him. “If I'd done it as a hobby, or even stayed with the Apollo Players, then I would be home with you every night.”

It was dark, but I knew by the tone of his voice that Reggie was smiling: “Harriet, darling, if you weren't doing what you're doing you would be thoroughly miserable and thinking about what might have been. As for the Apollo Players, I know you've helped them out from time to time, but the truth is that you've outgrown them, and if you were there permanently, the others would be jealous of you because you'd keep showing them up even without meaning to.”

He was right of course and it wasn't the first time he had told me that, but I was still going to miss him so much and I wanted to be reassured.

Reggie got up at six o'clock for the long drive back to Boston with Henry. He told me I should stay in bed, but of course, I had to get up to see him off. Every second with him was precious. Ellen also rose early, and she prepared breakfast for us all, which we had on the kitchen table with her and Henry. Then came the moment I was dreading, when I had to kiss him goodbye and watch 'Annabel' disappear down the drive and out of sight. I confess I went back to my room and had a little cry. I was missing him so much already.
It was fortunate that I had to go back to the theatre that morning, as it gave me something to occupy my mind.

I haven't written much about the other play which the company was due to perform – 'Much Ado About Nothing'. Rehearsals had gone very well, and on this Monday, the final dress rehearsal was to be held. After that was over I'd be having a light meal and then staying on for the evening performance of 'Romeo and Juliet'.

Miranda and I sat together and watched the dress rehearsal of 'Much Ado' and agreed that if the company performed as well the following evening then we would have nothing to complain about.

“I'm really glad that you are here since I know that if anyone was sick, you could step into the rôle,” she said. “I've never met anyone with such a phenomenal memory.”

“Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that,” I replied. “I've done my share of stepping in at the last minute, and while I'd do it of course, I'd rather the current cast performed the play.”

The first performance of “Much Ado” the following day went very well, and since I wasn't in the play, I had no reason to be on stage, although I did sit with the Thompsons in the front row. It felt strange to be watching a play In which I had been so involved, but not actually taking part in it. Inevitably there was the odd slip-up in the text which I'm sure no-one else noticed, just me. At the conclusion, Miranda again appeared onstage again. Diplomatically she mentioned the Thompsons first “without whose support this season could not have been held”. Hiram again stood and turning around, waved to the audience, enjoying the applause and his moment in the spotlight – literally!. She then thanked me for my assistance and there was more applause, so I felt obliged to stand, turn to the audience and bow.

After the audience had departed, Magnolia, Hiram and I went backstage to congratulate everyone on a fine performance, before Henry drove us back to the house. Now that both plays had had successful opening nights, I felt a huge sense of relief. It was too late then, but the following day in my regular phone call to Reggie I told him that everything had gone well and they seemed to think I had something to do with it, so I guessed I had earned my money.

Two weeks passed and in between performances and rehearsals, I continued to work on my recital program. It would naturally contain Shakespeare, both speeches from his plays and also some of the sonnets, including the more famous ones. However, in acknowledgment of my visit to America, I included some American poets such as Edgar Alan Poe's 'Annabel Lee' which I thought I would keep as an encore, presuming the audience demanded one, and one of his most famous works 'The Raven'. Others that I chose were “To My Dear and Loving Husband” by Ann Bradstreet; and 'The Village Blacksmith” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

I was keeping in touch with the Rabinovich children who would provide my musical interludes and about a week later when I had finalised the order of my recitations, their father rang and asked if I would do them the honour of visiting them one evening for dinner and also to hear Miram and Itzak play the chosen pieces. These now included a couple of more contemporary pieces to introduce the American works I would recite. I said I would be delighted. Sunday was the only day I was sure I would be free, so that was agreed upon.

The Rabinovichs lived in Albany, about an hour's drive away, and Hiram insisted that Henry drive me there, which I appreciated, especially as I would be coming back after dark. I was a confident driver, but still, a woman on her own in a strange country has to consider whether it is wise to be driving in such circumstances. When I mentioned this to Mr Rabinovich, he understood completely, and said that Henry would be welcome to wait for me in the company of his cook, Mrs Rubenstein, who would provide him with a meal. I felt a bit awkward about that, but realised that Henry might feel more relaxed if he was in the company of their staff rather than sitting with the Rabinovichs..

Britain is generally known as the home of 'class consciousness', not that everyone lives in 'Downton Abbey' of course! For that reason I found it strange that the first time I personally encountered two 'upstairs/downstairs' situations was in America. I should make it clear that both the Thompsons and Rabinovichs were thoroughly nice people and not snobbish in any way. It was just that they had a lot more money than the average person, lived in large houses and could afford to employ the staff to run them.

The meal was excellent as I was coming to expect. How was I going to readjust to the sort of meals I was used to producing in England?

The menu consisted of a Caesar salad, followed by Beef Wellington, fresh asparagus, and a simple baked potato.

“Some guests expect shellfish or lobster, but unfortunately it is forbidden by our religion,” said Mr Rabinovich.

I smiled: “The meal is superb, so please don't apologise.”

For dessert, we had a Boston Cream Pie. I should mention that it isn't really a pie at all, but a two-layer vanilla cake with chocolate icing and a custard filling. Yes, it tastes as delicious as it sounds, but I wouldn't have it too often, it would wreak havoc with the waistline!

Afterwards, we retired with liqueurs to the music room which was dominated by a resplendent Steinway grand piano.

“Itzak, I forgot to mention that I have arranged to hire a Steinway piano from the company you mentioned, for our recital, I spoke to a Mr Merkal and mentioned your name which of course he knew and I explained why I need it.”

Ityzak said: “I bet he told you that it was a good choice and that a Steinway is always a Steinway...”

“But anything else is just a piano,” I finished for him and we all laughed.

Miriam took out her violin and checked the tuning, and then they started to play the first piece. I have to say that with Itzak playing a quality piano, the difference was amazing. These were two very talented young people and they would enhance my recital enormously. I hoped that giving them more public exposure would be of benefit to them as well. A real win-win situation.

I couldn't help being reminded of the brother and sister Yehudi and Hephzibah Menuhin, although in their case it was the brother who played the violin and the sister the piano. I could see the Rabinovich children enjoying similar glittering careers.

We went through the order of the program, making some minor adjustments and I recited the start and end of the pieces I would perform before and after each musical item. I promised to get them printed out so that they would know when to come back onto the stage.

Then Itzak sprang something on me: “What's your singing voice like Harriet?” he asked.

“Well I've had to do a little singing in Shakespeare plays as there are over a hundred songs in them,” I replied, sensing where this was going.

“How about including one in your recital? 'It was a lover and his lass' from 'As You Like It' is not too complicated,” he said. “I just happen to have the words and music here.”

He pulled out a couple of sheets of music. “The text isn't hard to learn, there's a lot of repetition.”

I smiled. “It's not the text that worries me, it's my singing voice. Alright, I'll give it a try, but you must be brutally honest with me. If you think I should stick with the spoken word you must tell me.”

Itjak played the tune for me twice and he was right, it wasn't too complicated. I gave it my best shot, and afterwards said to my 'audience' “That was awful wasn't it.”

To my surprise, they hastened to assure me that it was really good for a first time.

“How about I record the tune and also the accompaniment onto a CD for you to take away and practise. You can make a final decision closer to the time of the recital?” said Itzak.

They seemed really keen for me to do it, so I agreed to his proposal. While the rest of us retired to the dining room for a coffee, Itzak set up a recorder and made the CD for me.

Then Henry was contacted to drive me back to the Thompsons. As usual, I sat in the front with him. I wasn't going to play the lady by sitting in the back. As we drove back I wondered what I had got myself into with the song. Still, if I wasn't happy, that could always be left out. After all, there was no fixed program.

The season continued, and everything was going very smoothly. No-one was sick, so I wasn't called upon to step in and help out, and I was glad of that. I was content to just do the two prologues and that wasn't every day of course. Finally the day arrived that Richard came back to America to start rehearsing for our 'gala performance'. Henry went to pick him up from the airport in Boston and he was welcomed back to the Thompson household. I must say that he behaved himself and there were no more night-time knocks on my door.

Now we had to rehearse with the rest of the company in the mornings. Julie and Dean had agreed that she would perform the first prologue and he would do the second. They seemed quite content to do that. Richard and I knew the text backwards of course, so it wasn't too hard for us to slot in with the rest of the cast and the rehearsals went very well. Miranda was directing and we had both told her not to be afraid to tell us if we could improve anything, but there was very little comment from her. Three days before the performance we went to Tanglewood to rehearse in the Seiji Ozawa Hall. We were informed that the twelve hundred seat auditorium was sold out and they could have probably sold as many seats again, but Hiram wanted to keep it 'exclusive' and the ticket prices reflected this.

New scenery had been built as the sets used in East Devon were too small, and it was 'bumped in' overnight before we arrived for our first rehearsal. When a play changes to another venue, especially one where the stage and sets are a different size, the cast has to adjust accordingly, but everyone seemed to manage very well. The final run through was a dress rehearsal on the afternoon of the performance and that's when it happened.

It was entirely my own fault. We had just rehearsed the balcony scene and I was wearing a floor-length nightdress. At the rear of the balcony set was a rather steep wooden staircase with a handrail and carpet attached to the steps to deaden the sound. I had tried negotiating it in my costume a couple of times with no problem since I lifted the hem of the nightdress well clear of my feet. This time I was in a hurry and as I descended the steps, the material slipped out of my hand and my foot caught in the hem. The last thing I remembered was the floor coming up to meet me and then … blackness.

To be continued.

Many thanks once again to Louise Ann and Julia Phillips for spotting my 'typos', thus allowing me to correct them before publishing. A special thank-you to Karen Lockhart, a native of New England who has provided me with local knowledge, menus and correct American idioms for this and the following chapters while Harriet visits the United States.
I'd also like to acknowledge a suggestion from Christina H which I incorporated into this chapter. She loves cliffhangers so much she even suggested one, which I guess took the element of surprise out of it for her I'm most grateful to her for the idea and hope it doesn't make me look like a plagiarist!