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 44   Drama offstage

The reviews were excellent, although I did feel that they concentrated a bit too much on me, and I mentioned this to Greg.

“You are too modest,” he replied. “The fact is that the whole company has shown a marked improvement since you arrived. I don't know whether it's the fact that they are trying to prove to the 'Limey' that Americans can do Shakespeare as well as the English can, or more likely, you just inspire them to try harder.”

That was a very kind remark, although I don't know if it was warranted.

The season was a great success. We were playing to full houses most days, and having set a precedent with my originally 'ad-lib, of course,re, now, of course, I was expected to produce one every performance. I gave them a mixture of Shakespeare speeches, some of his sonnets and poems such as one of my favourites – 'Annabel Lee' by Edgar Allan Poe. They were all greeted with rapturous applause, especially the American poems and seemed to finish off each performance very well.

Everything was going well and then one night there was some unexpected drama. At the hotel, the women were given rooms on the third floor and the men on the fourth for propriety's sake. As usual, returning to my room after the performance I was soon in bed and ready for my eight hours' sleep. I usually fall asleep very quickly but this night was an exception. I have a rather acute sense of smell and suddenly realised that I could detect smoke. 'Not again', I thought to myself, remembering my previous American trip, but there was no doubt about it. I slipped out of bed, put on my robe and walked to the door of my room. I checked the door for heat first, something I had been taught at school, and then cautiously opened it.

The corridor was empty, so I stepped out. The smell of smoke was not strong and obviously hadn't set off smoke alarms yet. Margaret Smith had the room next door to mine and as I stepped closer to its door, I was convinced that this was the source. I tried the door but it was locked, so I started to pound on the door with my fists and shouted out her name with all my might, but there was no response. It occurred to me that she might have been overcome by the smoke and I was becoming increasingly anxious. I was just about to run down the corridor seeking help when I realised that Dean James was beside me.

“What's up Harriet?” he asked curtly.

“It's Margaret. I can smell smoke coming from her room and she isn't answering.”

“Right. Have you rung the Night Desk?” I shook my head. “Tell them to ring the fire brigade and get an ambulance,” he said. Of course! Why hadn't I thought of that? I rushed back to my room, hearing a crash in the corridor, but I didn't hesitate and rang the Night Clerk. When I was sure she had understood me, I hurried back outside

The door to Margaret's room was open and smoke was pouring out. People had emerged from their rooms but there was no sign of Dean. The corridor smoke alarm was now emitting piercing beeps. I saw Olivia and said: “Where's Dean gone?”

“He's broken the door and gone in the room,” she cried, sounding terrified. “He's been gone ages. Oh Harriet, I'm so worried.”

Suddenly the penny dropped. I realised that when I saw Dean he was wearing trousers and an unbuttoned shirt but no socks or shoes. He must have been in Olivia's room.

Suddenly we heard loud coughing and Dean staggered out from the smoke, carrying a limp body in his arms. “Get the door shut,” he gasped.

This was no time for modesty. I knew the door lock was broken, so I slipped out of my robe, took a deep breath and stepping into the doorway, grabbed the door and pulled it towards me, jamming it against the doorframe with the material of my robe. It held the door shut and that stopped most of the smoke escaping. Meanwhile, Dean had carried Margaret into Olivia's room thee doors further down and laid her on the bed. By the time I got there, Olivia was administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but there was no response. I felt so useless, all I could do was stand there and watch, my heart pounding.

It was only a couple of minutes later that we all heard the thud of heavy boots running along the corridor and I ran out to see the firemen arriving, I pointed out Margaret's room, not that there was any real need. They had breathing apparatus and entered the room with fire extinguishers. Then to my intense relief, the paramedics arrived and I directed them into Olivia's room.

“What's the story?” asked one of them tersely.

“This is Margaret Smith. I know she's a smoker. I smelt smoke in her room and Dean, here broke in and rescued her. That was about five minutes ago and Olivia's been giving her 'mouth-to-mouth' ever since.”

“Thank you. We'll take over now,” said the lead paramedic. They attached an oxygen mask over Margaret's nose and mouth and started compressing her chest. After about a minute she started to cough.

“Thank God!” I exclaimed. My heart rate started to slow down.

A few minutes later it was all over. The paramedics brought up a trolley and loaded Margaret onto it to take to hospital for observation. The firemen were standing in the corridor and had just finished sealing up the door. One held the remains of my robe in his hands.

“I think this is yours ma'am, but it looks beyond repair,” he said.

I became acutely aware that I was standing there in my nightdress.

“I think you're right officer, but no matter if it helped contain the smoke. Do you know what happened?”

“The mattress was smouldering, that's where the smoke was coming from,” said one of them. “It looks like your friend is a smoker and smoking in bed is one of the most dangerous things you can do.”

A few minutes later the hotel manager arrived, looking extremely worried and he was greatly relieved to find that there was only one injury and no fatalities. I returned to my room to put on the hotel's complimentary dressing gown and also my slippers. The manager invited us all to go down to the hotel restaurant for coffee and biscuits. In addition, he suggested that Olivia, I and anyone else whose rooms were still smoke affected, might like to transfer to other rooms for the rest of the night. Four of us nearest to Margaret's room took him up on the offer.

“Should we ring Gavin or Greg?” Olivia asked me.

I looked at the wall clock. It was just after one o'clock.

“I think we should call Gavin,” I said. “He is the boss after all and needs to know about it. I'll do it.”

Gavin was asleep when I rang, but thanked me for letting him know what had happened. He was very relieved to hear that Margaret was in hospital and no-one else was affected. He said he would ring the hospital and see us all in the morning.

Down in the restaurant, I sat with Olivia and Dean.

“We'd better get our story straight about tonight,” I said. “It's quite possible that the press will get to hear of it and want to write an article for the local paper. I suggest we say that Olivia had a bad headache and rang me to borrow some analgesics but I couldn't help her so she rang Dean. He was just bringing some down when he saw me hammering on Margaret's door. Then everyone else was out in the corridor and saw what happened. It's not a great story and if you can think of something more convincing please speak up.”

Olivia was blushing deeply while I was speaking, knowing that I knew exactly why Dean was down on our floor. Neither she nor Dean could come up with anything better so we left it at that.

I was right about the press; two days later there was a banner headline in the local paper:

'ROMEO AND JULIET TO THE RESCUE'

Beneath it in smaller type was 'Stage stars rescue fellow thespian'. There was a large publicity photo taken of Dean and me onstage in the 'balcony scene'.

Strangely, the reporter didn't contact Olivia, Dean or me to find out what had happened, so our concocted story wasn't really needed. My experience of reporters is that they tend to write the story they want to write regardless of the facts. In a nutshell, the story was that I had detected smoke coming from Margaret's room, which the report said was 'due to an electrical fault', and was attempting to alert her when Dean walked by on the way to his room, broke down the door and rescued her.

If it had been anyone else, the story would only have appeared in the local paper, but thanks to our higher profile, the international press picked it up, and when I rang Reggie, whom I'd told the previous day, he said there was a small article about the incident in the York newspaper.

“My goodness, it's probably appeared in the Stratford paper too,” I said, and in that I was right. I thought I had better ring Emma and tell her what had happened.

“Yes, Dean was in bed with an actress, but it wasn't me,” I said.

Emma laughed. “I never thought for a moment it was. I've rarely seen two people so much in love as you and Reggie.”

“Well actresses do have a bad reputation, and to be honest, Dean is a very handsome young man,” I said.

“Careful, or you'll be sowing seeds of doubt in my mind,” said Emma, laughing.

There are times when I need to keep my mouth shut!

The day after the drama, it suddenly occurred to me that the smoke alarm in Margaret's room had not activated, something I hadn't realised in the heat of the moment. I immediately visited the hotel manager and pointed this out to him.

"If I had not smelled the smoke, Miss Smith might not have survived. I hope you will make it your business to have all of the room smoke alarms checked to see if they are working. If one has failed, there may be more."

He promised to get them checked immediately and I'm sure he did since any subsequent failure with catastrophic consequences would have resulted in a court case where I would inevitably be a witness for the prosecution. I never heard if there were any more alarms not working, but I'm sure they were replaced if there were.

Margaret Smith was in hospital for three days but made a full recovery. Fortunately, she had an understudy, so the performances were able to carry on. Naturally, Margaret wanted to thank us for saving her life and promised to never smoke In bed again. She was curious to know how Dean happened to be passing by and asked me when we were alone, which made me think she had suspicions..

“He happened to be visiting someone, but no, it wasn't me,” I said.

Margaret smiled. “I think we'd better leave it at that,” she said with a smile.

I agreed.

Margaret was able to return to her rôle after five days, as good as ever.

As for Olivia and Dean, they were both young single adults, so what they did in their own time was no-one's business. I don't know how long their romance persisted, although I do know that several years later they were both married to other people.

The season carried on with no more offstage dramas. One day I was in my dressing room and singing along to the radio. The door was open and Greg was passing by and stopped.

“I didn't know you are a singer, Harriet,” he said.
“Well Shakespeare's plays contain a lot of songs so we all have to sing a bit,” I replied.

“But you're really good.”

“I'm an actor who sings rather than a singer who acts,” I responded. I didn't tell him about 'Camelot'. Nevertheless, this little episode had a consequence.

The season finally came to an end. The last performance was packed out, not a spare seat to be had. At the conclusion and being left on stage by myself once more (by now I had had to accept that I was the 'star'), I recited 'Our revels now are ended...', just as I had done at the first night. It seemed the most appropriate thing to say. The crowd was on their feet cheering and I couldn't get away. Finally, I held up my hand for silence:

“You have been a wonderful audience, in fact all the audiences during this season have been so enthusiastic and supportive that I hope I get an opportunity to come here to perform again.”

This resulted in more cheers.

I glanced into the wings. “However the Stage Manager is looking at his watch and if we go on much longer he has to pay us overtime, so one more piece and then I really have to say goodnight. It's probably the most famous of all Shakespeare's sonnets, number eighteen. The final two lines show that he knew that he was writing for the ages. It starts “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day.”

I waited until the applause died down and the theatre was completely silent and then I raised my head and started to speak:

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd,
And every fair from fair sometimes declines
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimm'd
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breath or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee”

I spoke the last six words with quiet emphasis. There was a moment's silence and then the applause again. I bowed once more and turning left the stage as the house lights came up. The season was finally over.

Following the performance, there was a cast and crew reception with finger food and drinks in one of the rehearsal rooms. We all chatted and thanked each other for their contribution to the production. Then it happened; Greg, who perhaps had had a drink or two, tapped his glass to gain attention and said: “Everyone has contributed so much to this production that it might seem strange to single any one person out, but I think we can all agree that our guest performer from England, young Harriet has proved to be a real star and inspiration to us all.”

There were cheers at this and I, of course, turned bright red, but there was worse to come.

“Now I'm going to reveal a surprise to you. Harriet likes to hide her light under a bushel, but a little bird has told me that besides being a brilliant Shakespearean actress, she was recently playing the part of Guinevere in a production of 'Camelot'.”

There was a gasp from many of the cast and some cheers. My blushes would have lit up the room.

“So how about a song for us Harriet?”

I thought I saw a way out: “But I need an accompanist,” I said.

“We've got someone here who plays the piano,” said a voice.

Julie, who played Lady Montague stepped forward: “I play piano for an amateur theatrical group, we did a production of 'Camelot' last year. I'm sure I can remember the songs.”

So that's how I came to sing “I Loved You Once in Silence” to the cast and crew, and after thinking that I'd had my quota of applause for the night, gained even more! What a night it was. More was demanded. It turned out that Julie had played for 'South Pacific' so I sang 'Bali Ha'i'. It then became a general singsong and a really fun party to end the season.

The following evening, after a lunch with Greg and Gavin, and the promise to return for another season if my schedule permitted, Paul drove me to Orlando to catch the plane back to England. This time I would be adding four hours to the nine hours flying time, so by flying through the night I would be arriving in Manchester in the morning, where Reggie would be meeting me. Having made discreet enquiries, I bought Paul a large bottle of whiskey (as the Americans spell it) as a 'thank-you' for driving me around. He seemed genuinely surprised. Didn't everyone do that?

“Why thank you Miss Harriet, but you really didn't need to give me a present; I was just doing my job.”

“You did it extremely well and I wanted to show my appreciation,” I replied.shook his hand after he toom my suitcases into the Departures Hall.

--ooOoo--

I was flying back to England on a Boeing 747. I took my window seat in Business Class and wondered who would be sitting next to me. Flying as a single person it's always a bit of a gamble whether you get an entertaining companion or a thoroughly boring one. A little old lady was shown to the seat next to me only minutes before we were due to take off. I suspected that she has arrived late.

“Good evening my dear, My name is Gladys Watts and I'm pleased to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Harriet Staunton,” I replied. “I'm pleased to meet you too.”

The hostess came around with hot towels to refresh us, and then it was the obligatory safety talk as we taxied to the start of the runway.

Gladys was quite talkative and seemed a bit jumpy: “I'm from a little place called Burntoak and I'm going to England to visit my cousin whom I haven't seen in about twenty years. My children paid my fare and insisted I fly Business Class. Margery lives in a place called Stratford on Avon where Shakespeare was born, do you know it?”

I smiled. “Yes, quite well in fact.”

Gladys looked at me: “This is my first ever time flying and I'm a bit nervous. Do you mind if I hold your hand?”

“Of course,” I replied, and she clutched my hand. Hers was warm and damp, she really was nervous.

“I hope you don't mind me saying so, my dear, but your face looks familiar,” she said. “Have we ever met?”

I decided that if I told her the truth it might distract her as the aircraft started to pick up speed.

“I'm actually an actress and I've just spent a month playing in 'Romeo and Juliet' at the Burntoak Festival. Did you happen to see it?”

“Sadly no, I was too late trying to get a seat and it was sold out. Oh now I know where I've seen your face, it was on one of those big billboards around Burntoak, but I don't remember the name Staunton.”

I felt a bit embarrassed: “Well that's my married name; I use 'Harriet Stow' when I'm acting. I spend a lot of time acting in Stratford. I'd be happy to get tickets for you and your cousin to attend a performance at the theatre there if you like?”

“Could you? Oh, that would be wonderful,” she replied.

We were now in the air and I don't think she even noticed. My 'cunning plan' had succeeded.

While I had been in America, my agent, Richard, had rung me to say that I had been offered the part of 'Katherine Minola' in 'The Taming of the Shrew'. I thought this would be a fun part to play and a change from tragedy, so I had agreed at once. I said to Gladys: “Will you be in England for a few months? I'll be playing in 'The Taming of the Shrew' in Stratford.”

“I'd love to see it, but are the tickets very expensive?” she asked.

“I'd like you and your cousin to attend as my guests,” I responded, and she was thrilled at that. We exchanged contact details. She didn't have a mobile phone but gave me her cousin's address instead. The digital age seemed to have passed her by.

The flight passed very amicably. We chatted and later both slept for a while and woke when it was light and the cabin crew were starting to come around to serve breakfast. I was midway through my cereal when I heard a bang outside the aircraft which gave us all a shock. I craned my neck to look out of the window at the wing and was shocked to see flames apparently coming from the outer engine on the port wing.

To be continued.