The Might-Have-Been Girl A novel by Bronwen Welsh Copyright 2016

Chapter 36   Opening night

The final week before a show opens is always a busy one. Rehearsals seem to take on a new urgency. Tony decided on two dress rehearsals on Wednesday and Thursday, starting at two o'clock so there was time to iron out any problems. Friday was a spare day which we could use for another dress rehearsal if necessary. Otherwise it would be a low-key day so that we would not be exhausted on Opening Night.

As Ophelia, I was wearing a long white loose-fitting flowing robe, rather like a night-dress to be honest, and my hair which was now quite long was intertwined with garlands of (plastic) flowers. If you've ever seen Jean Simmonds in Olivier's film of Hamlet, you will get the general idea. I was glad that I only had to give the wardrobe department my sizes and didn't need to be measured, which might have led to revelations that I didn't really want. When I went for a costume fitting, it was exactly the right size and didn't need any adjustment. I was glad that our costumes were the traditional Elizabeth dress. I can never quite get my head around Shakespeare in modern dress. The words seem to clash with the costumes, but that's just my opinion.

Fortunately Mary was about the same height and body build as me, so the two costumes for Ophelia would fit either of us. On the Tuesday there had been a dress rehearsal for the understudies and I had sat in on it as it was my only opportunity to see the production from the audience's point of view. Tony had suggested to the cast that even if at this late stage we saw anything which we felt might be improved, we should tell him. I did notice at one point the positioning of the cast didn't seem quite right and mentioned it to him. He was very gracious, said I was right and that he would adjust it.

In my opinion, the two dress rehearsals for the cast seemed to go very well. We were all relaxed with each other and there were no major slip-ups. With such a long performance it can be tiring for the cast. I knew that on Saturdays this would be especially so. The matinees would start at one o'clock and finish about five-thirty, giving us barely one and a half hours before starting the evening performance at seven o'clock. This in turn would finish about eleven thirty, quite a marathon. I felt rather glad that my part was not particularly long, and I had sympathy for David who, as Hamlet would on on-stage much of the time. It was certainly not a part for an old man.

On Tuesday I took the opportunity to go into the bowels of the building where the two sound engineers had their workshop, carrying the little cassette recorder the vicar had loaned me. I knocked on their door and a voice said “Come”, so I opened it and went inside. Pete, the head sound engineer was pouring over something on the bench, and I could hear Des, his assistant whistling in the next room.

“How are the 'rude mechanicals' today?” I asked. This was their nickname taken from Shakespeare's “A Midsummer Night's Dream”.

Pete grinned. “Watch your language Des, there's a lady in the shop,” he called out. This was an 'in joke'. Des is actually a church elder and the worst I ever heard him say was “Dash it!' and that was under severe provocation.

“What have you got there?” he asked, indicating the recorder, “Been to an antiques market have we?”

Des appeared at that moment. “Haven't see one of those in years,” he commented.

I explained about the vicar and how I had been talked into doing Bible recordings for him.

“Well that recorder will be alright if you want to sound like you're talking three feet under water,” said Pete.

“Hang on, I've got something much better,” said Des and disappeared into the other room. A few seconds later he reappeared carrying a square leather box with a shoulder strap which he carefully placed on the workbench and opened the case for my inspection. If he expected a look of awe he was disappointed, as all he got from me was a look of bewilderment.

“It's a Nagra,” he said by way of explanation. That still didn't help.

“Alright, it's a bit before your time I know, but reporters used to take them out in the field years ago, and they are excellent recorders.”

I looked at the Nagra. “So where does the cassette go?” I asked.

“It doesn't use one, it uses reel to reel tapes. Here they are, see?” He reached into the lid and pulled out a small plastic reel full of tape and an empty one, and proceeded to show me how the full reel clicked onto the left spindle, the empty one onto the right and the tape was fed around the heads. “That's where it records and plays back, simple! It's an old machine but in great condition and the quality of a recording beats any cassette hands down. Here,” he took the microphone from the lid, plugged it in and handed it to me. He pressed some buttons and the tape started to move. “Now say something.”

Rather cheekily, I did my impersonation of David and the famous 'To be or not to be' speech. After a couple of minutes, Pete said “That's enough,” and stopped the machine. He rewound the tape and pressed a button, and I listened to my voice. He was right, even with the little speaker in the machine the sound was excellent.

“Just think how it would sound through a decent amplifier and speakers,” he said. “Hang on a minute.”

He pulled open a drawer and took out a pair of headphones which he told me to put on while he plugged them into the machine.

“Now listen again,” he said, rewinding the tape and switching the machine to 'Play'. I was 'blown away' as the saying goes. I know our own voices always sound different to how we hear ourselves but I could tell that the sound was amazing.

“That's incredible quality,” I said. “But how do you get it onto a cassette?”

It turned out that was not a problem. All I had to do was make my recordings on the Nagra (it's Polish for 'it will record' by the way), bring the machine and tapes back to Pete and Des and they would transfer the sound to cassettes for me.

“We've got heaps of them lying around, how many do you think he'll need?” asked Des.

“Maybe half a dozen,” I replied.

“You do know cassettes are rather old-fashioned don't you, how about some CDs as well?” said Pete.

“Well I suspect the listeners are old fashioned too,” I replied. “But if you don't mind doing a couple of CDs, I'll check with the vicar and find out what he prefers.”

After a quick tutorial on how to work the machine and position the microphone, I took it back to the flat after the rehearsal. The resulting cassettes and CDs were very well received by the vicar who commented that he didn't know that little cassette recorder would do such a good job since it never worked that well for him. I decided not to enlighten him.

Mary and I were getting along very well at the apartment. I was glad to see that like me she was a tidy person, and also quite handy in the kitchen. There is a temptation when you work the strange hours of an actress to eat a lot of take-away, which should be resisted as home-cooked food is so much better and healthier. After the first week, I telephoned Phoebe and managed to catch her.

“Hi Phoebe, how are things going at 'Wensleydale'?” I asked.

“Fine thanks Harriet, to be honest I feel so much more comfortable here. They're working me hard to get 'Jesse' back on screen as soon as they can, but I don't really mind. It took me a week to get back into the routine of getting up at five o'clock, but I'm fine with it now. How is Hamlet going?”

“It's going well, thank you. I've managed to find a flatmate, it's Mary who was in the Apollo Players, so she knows all about me. She's also my understudy.”

“That all worked out well then,” she said. It was strange but she almost sounded a touch disappointed. Was she having second thoughts about Hamlet? Well it was too late now.

“Mary moved in the day after you left, so she should pay the rent from then. I'll get her to send you the money you paid in advance.”

“No, that's alright Harriet, but thank you for offering. I felt I was leaving you in the lurch but they were so anxious for me to come up here immediately.”

We chatted for a few more minutes and then rang off.

I rang Emma to find out how their trip to London was going.

“We're having a great time, Harriet. We've been to three shows in the West End. I still haven't given up hope I'll be on one of those stages sometime, and I'm absolutely sure you will be.”

Emma is such a sweetie.

“Have you seen 'The Mousetrap' yet?”

“Yes we have, and David had quite a surprise when the ending was revealed. He wants to do a thriller with Apollo next season.”

“Well you keep having a good time. Everything's going well here. We're getting ready for Saturday night and the tension is rising.”

She laughed. “ 'Break a leg', Harriet,” she said before she rang off.

Opening night arrived. There was to be no matinee so that all the cast would be fresh for the first performance which of course would be reviewed in the national papers. With so many well-known names in the cast, it was bound to attract attention, and of course those actors with a national and in some cases international reputation still had to perform well. “You are only as good as your last performance.” How many times have I heard that?

When we all arrived at the theatre, Tony gathered us on stage for a short speech.

“Before the season starts, I want to thank you all for the work you have put into this production. I'm sure it will be a great success. I'll let you go to your dressing rooms now to prepare. Have fun everyone, and 'break a leg'!”

Dame Emily stepped forward then and said “As the senior member of the cast, I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say you have been an inspiration, Tony. This is my tenth production of Hamlet, and I'm sure it will be the best yet.”

There was general applause before we all left the stage and went to our dressing rooms. Dame Emily's words stayed with me. I wondered if she had played Ophelia too, and later I found out that she had.

The last hour before the performance starts absolutely flies by. We were all dressed and made up in good time of course, with at least thirty minutes to go. I wasn't required until Scene 3 in the first act, but I couldn't just sit there twiddling my thumbs, especially on the opening night, so when I heard the five minute call for some of the cast, I left the dressing room and went to stand in the wings, being careful to keep out of everyone's way.

I sensed that the house lights were dimming as the sound of the audience chatting faded. The lights on-stage dimmed on the opening scene of the ramparts of Elsinore and the actors took their places. Then the curtain rose.

FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO
BERNARDO Who's there?
FRANCISCO Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself.

BERNARDO Long live the king!

We were off and running.

As usual, I felt a little nervous as I was about to go on-stage, but I knew that once the scene started I would be alright.
My first scene was with Laertes, Ophelia's brother who was about to depart overseas. They exchanged banter as a brother and sister might. At first I only had single lines, but then I took my chance to respond to his brotherly advice.

”I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.”

My spirited response gained laughter from the audience. It's always good to hear a reaction to what is happening on stage.

In the first three acts before interval I appeared in three more scenes. Then I returned to my dressing room for a drink while the audience went for their own refreshments. Since the play was so long, the interval went for thirty minutes.
My final appearance was in Act Four Scene Five, the scene where Ophelia is seen to have gone quite mad after rejection by Hamlet. It is not an easy scene to play because a lot of what I say and sing is nonsense, but it still requires that the audience should feel sympathy for Ophelia, and I sensed that in their reaction.
When I reached my final lines, singing -
“And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead:.....
God ha' mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye. '

and then walk off stage, the theatre was so quiet that you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. That is a sign to an actress that she has really nailed it and the audience is totally involved.

Ophelia does not appear again, but later her death is reported to her brother Laertes by Queen Gertrude, in that lovely descriptive passage which starts -

”There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples...”

The play continued to its dramatic conclusion with Hamlet dying and Horatio's famous lines

”Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince:
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

When the final curtain came down there was a moment's silence from the audience and then they burst out in wild cheering.

The curtain calls had been carefully choreographed by Tony, starting with the minor players and working up towards David the star. Dame Emily and I had the only two female parts in the play, although some readers who know the play well will say 'What about the 'player queen' in the 'play within the play' where Hamlet hopes to 'catch the conscience of the king'? That part was played by young Terry Wainwright, just sixteen who was carefully made up to appear as a youth playing a woman's part as was done in Shakespearean times. He, together with the player king and Lucianus, the king's poisoner appeared together holding hands.

Dame Emily and I appeared last but one; walking from the wings on the opposite sides of the stage, we advanced to the front of the stage and bowed. After we stepped to the side, finally David Lodge appeared to rapturous applause from the audience. After several bows, we principal players all joined hands across the stage and bowed again. I thought to myself 'This is totally amazing – you are holding hands with two international stars of stage and screen on one of the most famous stages in Britain after less than a year of experience acting. If I had one wish, it would have been for my family to see me now.'

It was then that the houselights were partially raised and I gasped, because there they were! Mum, Emma, David and Reggie, about ten rows back in the centre stalls, standing, clapping and cheering with all the rest of the audience. Dame Emily heard me even above the applause and turned to see me with tears streaming down my face.

“Are you alright my dear?” she asked solicitously.

“It's my family. I don't know how, but they're here,” I replied.

“I'm so glad for you my dear. This is a moment you'll remember for the rest of your life,” she said, and she was right of course.

When we stopped holding hands to take individual bows again, I blew them a kiss to let them know I had seen them. It was hard to tell from that distance, but I think Mum was crying too.

To be concluded.

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.