There is Nothing like a Dame A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright© 2017, 2018 & 2019 Bronwen Welsh A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl' and 'All the World's a Stage'

Chapter 62   There is Nothing Like a Dame

The next five years were very happy ones for all our family, and thankfully there were no dramas apart from those I acted onstage, so I hesitate to bore my readers with a catalogue of the plays in which I performed. I had a secret wish which I shared with no-one but Reggie, that before I retired, I would like to perform in every one of Shakespeare's plays, and publicly perform all his poems. This is not as easy as it sounds.

Like many playwrights there are Shakespeare plays which are performed constantly, such as 'Hamlet', 'Romeo and Juliet', 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', 'Henry V', 'Twelfth Night' etc. On the other hand, there are plays like 'Titus Andronicus', 'Corliolanus', the three parts of 'Henry VI' and others which are rarely staged. Producing a play costs a lot of money and if a season runs at a loss then that makes the company even less likely to take a risk. I had been fortunate to play in 'Henry VIII' which is one of those infrequently performed plays, and it's even not completely written by Shakespeare. Fortunately, that season was very successful and I hope that encourages the company to try at least one of the other rarely performed plays. There are some which I wondered if I will ever get the chance to perform.

I regularly performed in Stratford, but also at the Globe Theatre in London. Besides that, I was in a few 'bonnet drama' series on television and also a couple of feature films where I took supporting actor roles, including one with my friend and mentor Dame Emily. That was a special time. During filming, there is a lot of time spent sitting around waiting for the next scene to be set up. I spent much of the time learning my part for the next stage play, and also chatting with Dame Emily. She is a font of knowledge and I learned so much from her.

As far as the rest of the family went, a couple of years ago, Reggie was appointed an Associate Professor at the university. His original intention was that he would work as a lecturer for a couple of years and then move to the private sector. However, Reggie took to the academic life like a duck to water, so he stayed at the university.

David continued as the principal director at the Apollo Players in Bridchester and Emma was fully involved with looking after their growing family. I know that she still harboured desires to return to the stage but that was on the back-burner for now. The assistance Reggie and I had been able to give them in paying off their mortgage had helped them considerably. Their oldest daughter, Penny, had completed her schooling with excellent marks and wishing to become a nurse, she had enrolled in the University of York in a three year fulltime course. I did hint that I could contribute to her fees if necessary but my offer was politely declined. In a way, I was glad of this as it showed that Emma and David were now in much better financial shape.

Speaking of nursing, my cousin Flora in Australia had completed her nursing training and had travelled to London for a year to work at St Thomas's Hospital. I communicated regularly with Aunt Peggy and I realised that she was worried about Flora being overseas on her own for the first time. Being a country girl she wasn't exactly 'street smart', so I promised to look out for her, Fortunately, she arrived at the same time that I was working for a season at the Globe Theatre. While I was in London, I always rented a one-bedroom serviced apartment, which I found more convenient than staying in a hotel. After discussion with Aunt Peggy and Flora herself, I arranged to rent a two-bedroom apartment instead. I knew that there was a good chance that she would want to share with some of the other nursing staff once she made friends, but at least it gave her somewhere to stay when she arrived.

I hadn't seen Flora for a few years, and in the intervening time, she had developed from a pretty teenager into a lovely young woman. Aunt Peggy had confided that there was a young man, a farmer back in Yackandandah, with whom she had an 'understanding' that if they felt the same way after her year away, then they might formalise their relationship. I couldn't help wondering how she would feel about settling down as a country farmer's wife after having a taste of the big wide world, Sure, there was a local Bush Nursing Hospital who would be glad to have her, but what would happen when the children inevitably came along? Still, it was none of my business.

Flora did enjoy the theatre, and naturally, I offered her one or more tickets to come along and see the plays in which I was performing and some in which I did not appear and she enjoyed them very much. For some reason, the friends she made among the other nurses, seemed very impressed that she was related to me!

Back in Australia, Ron junior was taking over more and more of his father's work at the family farm, and he was very happy to do so since he had never wanted to be anything else than a farmer. He had been going out with a young woman for some time and as a farmer's daughter, she was the perfect choice to be the wife of another farmer.

However, with Ron working on his father's farm, there was a problem; he and his new wife would need their own space. No matter how well wives and mothers-in-law get on, don't ever expect them to share a kitchen. The problem was solved just as I would have expected. A new two-bedroom unit was built on the farm, and Ron Senior and Aunt Peggy moved into it after the wedding, while Ron Junior and his new wife took over the homestead, which would allow plenty of room for them when they started a family. It all worked very well.

Reggie and I were invited to the wedding and we had had to decline because I had signed to make a film at the same time. I even posted them our wedding present. Then I was suddenly notifed that filming had been delayed by a week and we could go after all. After a quick phone call and hurriedly booking airline tickets, we made a very quick trip to Australia. Fortunately, we didn't have to worry about accommodation, since Aunt Peggy and Uncle Ron insisted that we stay with them.

It was a lovely wedding, with the ceremony in a little weatherboard country church. I had originally been asked to read one of the lessons, and now that I would be there, after all, it seemed my substitute was only too happy to give up the honour to me again. Some people just hate public speaking. The reception was held in the local hall and catered for by the Country Womens Association members. Ron's new bride Cathy was a charming young woman, very down to earth and I knew instantly that she would make a great farmer's wife and mother.

I think that just about brings us up to date. Oh yes, there was one more thing. Early this year I was spending two weeks in York in-between seasons at Stratford. The post arrived and there was a large envelope with 'OHMS' ('On Her Majesty's Service') displayed on it. It was registered and so I had to sign for it.

We had recently compiled and filed my latest tax return which can be quite complicated with me receiving payment from a number of sources and working out all the attendant expense claims associated with earning my living. Reggie and my philosophy was to pay the government all they were owed, not a penny less nor a penny more. As Reggie put it, “Why give them more than you have to when you see how they waste so much of the tax money they receive?”

I suspected the letter came from the Department of Inland Revenue with some query as this had happened before, so I left the letter unopened to give to Reggie when he arrived home from the university. Meanwhile, I cooked our tea.

When Reggie arrived, I greeted him with a kiss and told him to sit down at the table while I plated up the meals and brought them in from the kitchenette. I mentioned the letter and gave it to him to open. When I came in with the plates, Reggie was sitting there with the open letter in his hand and a peculiar expression on his face.

“What is it?” I asked, assuming that we had failed to declare something. “Are they going to send me to gaol?”

“You'd better sit down first,” he replied, so I did. Then he handed over the letter. I looked at it, and later Reggie told me I went quite white.

“Dame Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire?” I said in a faint voice. “Surely there's been some mistake.”

“Whatever else they do, the government doesn't make mistakes like that,” said Reggie.

“But surely they give that sort of honour, if they do at all, to someone aged about sixty and at the end of their career? I hope I'm only about halfway through mine.”

“Not necessarily. There's been some successful sportspeople who have been made knights and dames while in their thirties or forties.”

“But they probably are at the end of their careers,” I pointed out.

“Read what else it says,” said Reggie.

“'For services to the performing arts, co-creation of the Stratford Youth Theatre and generous support of other charitable bodies” I read.

“Well, yes, I suppose so, but Madge has done far more than I have to make the Youth Theatre a success. As for the 'other charitable bodies', how did they hear about them when I've always kept my support anonymous?” I said.

“I suppose they have ways of finding things out,” said Reggie. “Anyway, it's very well deserved and I hope you're going to accept it. Think how proud your parents would have been.”

The thought of Mum and Dad not being there to see me accept it brought a tear to my eye. It would have been one of the proudest moments of their lives.

“I'm going to talk to Dame Emily about it. I know it has to be kept confidential, but I can trust her. Somehow I don't like the idea of being put on the same level as her, I don't deserve it,” I responded.

“If you must, but I'm sure she'll support you taking it,” said Reggie, and of course he was right as he so often is.

“That's very well deserved, my dear,” said Dame Emily. “It not only reflects well on you, but it's a bonus for the ISC having such a distinguished performer there. It gives you influence as well, and it certainly won't do any harm to your career. You'll probably find that a number of artistic and charitable bodies ask you to be their patron, that certainly has happened to me, so you can do even more good things. If I were you I would certainly take it.

“As far as you saying you don't think you should be offered the equivalent honour to me, I will in turn tell you a secret. I have just been offered a Dame Grand Cross of the order, which is as high as you can go.”

I congratulated her from the bottom of my heart. That actually made me feel a lot better. I would still be one rung below Dame Emily and that made it feel alright, so I wrote back by registered mail accepting the honour. In due course, I received an acknowledgment of my letter. Wouldn't it be terrible to have such an important letter get lost in the mail? I had to keep it a secret until the Queen's Birthday Honours List was published and then it became common knowledge.

I've never fielded so many congratulatory telephone calls, texts and emails in all my life. Emma and David were among the first to ring and congratulate me. Reading the article in the local York newspaper, even though I felt that there were more worthy recipients, mine was the photo that appeared to accompany the article. I guess it was because I'm a local girl.

I also received a phone call from Duncan Morgan of the ISC who kindly told me that it was well deserved. It was enough to make a girl's head spin.

On the day of the investiture, Reggie, Emma, David and I travelled by early train to London. There we met up with Flora who had managed to arrange a day off at the hospital when she told them her cousin was meeting the Queen.

We then took a taxi to Buckingham Palace. The cabbie was talkative and wanted to know who was getting a 'gong'

“My wife is being made a Dame,' said Reggie proudly.

“Congratulations ma'am,” said the driver. I noticed that he pronounced it properly to rhyme with 'ham'!

Arriving at the Palace and after going through the usual security, my guests were shown into the Ballroom while I was directed to a side room on the left where we were given a briefing by the Lord Chamberlain who cracked a few jokes to put all these nervous people at their ease. This was my second time at the Palace, but I must confess that my heart was again beating a little faster than usual.

To our mutual surprise, Madge was there too, having now been awarded a 'Commander of the British Empire', so she had jumped up two rungs. She was genuinely pleased for me when she learned of the honour I was being given She was chatting with her friend Dame Emily who, of course, I expected to see, but we both put on a show of being surprised to see each other.

We were each issued with a special pin to which the Queen would be attaching the award, and everything was checked and double-checked as we were lined up in order. I have previously described the ceremony when I received my OBE, and it was exactly the same this time, the Queen being attended by Ghurkas and Yeomen of the Guard, who marched into the ballroom followed by the Queen and her other attendants. The band played “God Save the Queen” and then went on to provide a musical background.

When my name was announced by the Lord Chamberlain I walked from the side room across to stand in front of the Queen and being a traditionalist, curtseyed. She attached the honour to the pin on my dress and offered her congratulations, saying that she had had the pleasure of seeing me perform; the award was very well deserved and that I must be the youngest person on who she had conferred a damehood in a long time. An official photo was taken although I wasn't aware of it at the time, my whole focus being on Her Majesty. I think all I said was “Thank you very much, Ma'am” We shook hands and then I took two paces back, curtseyed again and walked off to the room on the right of the Ballroom. It was all over in about thirty seconds.

Once all the honours were awarded, we met our relatives and friends in the palace quadrangle for personal photos and everyone admired my award. Dame Emily and Madge came over and we exchanged mutual congratulations and a picture was taken of the three of us.

“How does it feel to be a Dame?” asked Flora.

“To be honest, it takes a bit of getting used to,” I replied, and indeed it did take some time before being addressed as 'Dame Harriet' didn't make me want to turn around and look for someone else.

We went to a local restaurant for a lovely afternoon tea before Flora headed back to the hospital with photos on her mobile phone to prove to her friends that she hadn't been making it up. The rest of us took the train back to York, my award now safely in its beautiful box nestling in white satin.
Photos were duly sent to Aunt Peggy and family of course.

I feel that it is a little unfair that while the wife of a knight is referred to as 'Lady', the husband of a Dame gets no special recognition. I was so glad that when we attended any official function in the future, we would be introduced as 'Dame Harriet and Associate Professor Reginald Staunton. It means a lot to me that I should not appear to overshadow Reggie in other people's eyes. He's actually a lot smarter than me.

Emma asked me to come to Bridchester and wear my award for the children to see. I did that the following Saturday. They were all very impressed and excited. There was a surprise for me when it came time for afternoon tea. Emma and David disappeared into the kitchen and appeared with a large iced cake with candles and bearing the inscription 'Congratulations Dame Harriet' in pink icing. As they carried it out they were singing a song. Yes, you've guessed it “There is Nothing Like a Dame.”

Author's note: When I published the first chapter of this series of three 'Harriet' stories on 31st July 2015, yes just over four years ago, I had no idea where her adventures were going to take her, and me along with her.

Because of the title I chose for this novel, this seemed an appropriate point at which to finish. To be honest, I was thinking that this would be the last Harriet novel, but the reaction of some of my loyal readers to the thought of 'no more Harriet', has caused me to rethink. To be honest, I am very fond of her too and reluctant to let her go.

I'll let you into a secret, she's the person I would really like to be, as my own memory is very bad and even though I'm much better than I used to be, I still find it a little nervewracking to stand up and speak in front of a crowd. That must be the reason why a long time ago I was a very bad amateur actor, but I've never lost my love of the stage.

I'll let you into another secret, I've already written a few hundred words of a new Harriet story, but I will beg your indulgence to let me have a few months to work on it before I start publishing. I also need suggestions for an appropriate title, so please feel free to send me any you think appropriate.

In the meantime, I want to thank all those people, around one thousand a chapter, who have stuck with the stories, I must have been doing something right. A special 'thank you' to all the readers who took the trouble to give a 'kudos', and a very special word of thanks to those readers who took the time and trouble to comment on the stories, and politely point out any errors I made. Some comments were even in reply to other comments! I replied to many of you, and if I didn't please accept this as a sincere 'thank-you' for your kindness.

My final thanks are to all the very special ladies who run this site with such unfailing dedication and goodness knows how many hours of voluntary work, giving us all the opportunity to express ourselves and share our imaginings with others. They are always ready to lend a hand if something seems to go wrong. Where would we all be without them?

Big hugs to all of you, Bronwen