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 43   Back in America

We English tend to be a bit possessive about Shakespeare; after all he was born, lived his whole life and died in England and as far a we know never set foot outside of it. Some people ask how he seemed to have so much knowledge of Italy, as displayed in 'Romeo and Juliet', 'Two Gentlemen of Verona' and 'The Merchant of Venice'? The answer is that he probably gained his knowledge from wealthy friends who had spent time there, as the rich did enjoy travelling to mainland Euro,pe..

Of course, there are still some people who claim that Shakespeare's plays were actually written by his contemporary Christopher Marlowe, who, fearing for his life after accusations of blasphemy, faked his death and was smuggled abroad, later sending plays and poetry anonymously to England to be published under Shakespeare's name. In the four hundred years since Shakespeare's death, no-one has conclusively proved this to be true, and it might surprise you to know that I don't really care. Whoever wrote the work attributed to Shakespeare was a brilliant poet and playwright and there can be no argument about that.

Shakespeare is very popular in America and I had already spent some time there as an 'artist in residence' and performer. This time I was heading to a relatively small town of Burntoak near Orlando in Florida. Each year there is a Festival featuring plays by Shakespeare, his contemporaries and some more modern works. This continues for about six months but I was contracted to perform for four weeks in 'Romeo and Juliet'.

Reggie drove me to Manchester where I boarded the flight to Orlando. As usual I flew Business Class. It might sound like luxury but I would be rehearsing the following day and needed to arrive refreshed.The flight lasted just over nine hours leaving at noon and arriving in America at about five o'clock in the evening because of the four-hour time difference. I slept for much of the journey, another reason for flying Business Class, the seats are much more comfortable I had been told that there would be a chauffer waiting to take me to Burntoak, and sure enough, when I came out into the Arrivals Hall, there he was, waiting with a sign saying 'Miss Stow'. He introduced himself as Paul, took my cases and showed me to the limousine waiting in the parking lot. As usual, it was the size of a small bus.

I chose to sit in the front seat with Paul and as we travelled along, asked him about Burntoak where it seemed the annual Festival was its main claim to fame and largely responsible for the health of its economy. There were a number of hotels and motels and apart from that most of the residents were retirees. The surrounding countryside consisted mainly of farms.

As we neared the town we passed a giant billboard featuring a much larger than lifesize picture of me in costume as Juliet. My name actually appeared above the play's title at the top of the sign in a very large font with 'of the Imperial Shakespeare Company, England' beneath.

Below the play's title were the other major players in a smaller font. Romeo was being played by a young American actor, Dean James, whom I had heard of but had never seen perform, and the font for him was larger than Friar Lawrence played by Robertson Greene and Nurse by Margaret Smith. Below them was the Director's name – Gregory Nunn.

You might think I would get a swelled head seeing my 'star billing' but in fact it had the reverse effect. In Stratford I was one member of the company, and even though I had graduated to bigger parts, I was acting with some members of 'theatre royalty' who were household names. Here it seemed I was 'the star' and I suddenly felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. If this productions was not a success, then it would be all my fault. I think Paul noticed that I became rather quiet, but I don't think he realise why.

We drew up outside Burntoak's best hotel, and after I alighted, Paul took my suitcases out of the trunk and led the way into the foyer. Two men were standing there wearing dinner suits and the older one immediately stepped forward to greet me, shaking my hand.

“Miss Stow, I'm Gavin Robertson, the Festival Director, and this is Greg Nunn who is directing 'Romeo and Juliet'.”

The younger man stepped forward and also shook my hand: “I'm so pleased to meet you Miss Stow and I'm looking forward to working with you.”

I responded that I was pleased to meet them both and to please call me Harriet.

Gavin told me that they hoped I would join them for dinner in the hotel restaurant, and after I was shown to my room, I considered the clothes I had brought with me. I decided that an evening gown was most suitable considering the way my hosts were dressed and the fact that the hotel was decidedly 'upmarket'. I had a quick shower, put on fresh makeup, dressed in my gown and put on six inch heels.

When I came down the stairs at the appointed time, the two men were again waiting for me, and led the way into the dining room. The table towards which they were headed had a young man sitting at it with his back to me and for a brief moment I thought it was Richard Jenkins. Then he glanced around, saw us coming and stood up. It was obvious to me that this must be Dean James. He was very tall and incredibly handsome. I might be married but that doesn't mean that I can't appreciate male beauty. I imagined that he must have to beat off women with a stick. Greg introduced us and we shook hands. I decided that I was going to enjoy acting with this young man.

The dinner was very pleasant. Naturally, we all chatted about the theatre. It might have been very boring to an outsider, but we were all in the business, so it was natural to 'talk shop'. I was asked what plays I had been in recently and all three men were surprised to hear that despite being mostly known for my work in Shakespeare's plays, my last rôle had been in a musical. I asked Dean what he had been doing and it seemed he had been very busy too, with several Shakespeare productions and also a small part in a film. When I was asked if I had been in any films I replied that I hadn't. I decided against referring to my small part in 'Under Milk Wood' which required me to bare my breasts, not that I was ashamed of it, but now that I was concentrating on Shakespeare and these people didn't really know me, it didn't seem the right thing to mention. Perhaps I was overly concerned and maybe they weren't familiar with Dylan Thomas's masterpiece. I was prepared to mention my very small part in the television production of Charlotte Brontë's “The Professor”, her first novel and they certainly hadn't heard of that.

“Haven't you considered more television or films?” asked Greg.

“I might in the future but I must admit that even in my limited experience, all the waiting around between shots didn't appeal to me. My only other television productions have been live recordings of stage performances and I suppose that doesn't really count.”

We didn't have a late night because there would be a rehearsal the following morning. For the same reason, I had kept to mineral water during the dinner. With only a four-hour difference in time zones from England, I didn't expect to suffer from jet-lag but I still felt that an early night was in order.

The following morning I was up early, showered, dressed and went down to the dining room for breakfast. The limousine was waiting for me at the appointed hour and took me to the theatre.

The rehearsals and performances would take place in an interesting venue, called 'The Elizabethan Theater'. The stage area had a rear wall with practical doors, a balcony, thrust stage and canopy resembling the stage area of the Globe theatre in London, but that's where the similarity ended; instead of circular seating it was arranged more in the style of a modern theatre with raked rows of seats and no space in front of the stage for 'groundlings'. Total capacity was about two thousand people.

You may wonder how rehearsals had taken place prior to my arrival. Well, there was an understudy, Olivia Hathaway and she had played the part of Juliet in the rehearsals to date. I was introduced to her and couldn't help thinking what a wonderful name she had for acting Shakespeare. It seemed she was something of a fan of mine, which in some ways was a relief. I'm always concerned that my understudy will hate me and consider slipping poison in my tea in order to get a chance to perform! Alright, I'm joking, but having been an understudy myself in the past, I realise what a frustrating business it can be to turn up night after night and sit in the dresing room reading, knitting or listening to music.

“It's wonderful to meet you, Miss Stow. I've seen some of your work and I hope that one day I'll be as good as you,” she said. I try to take compliments like that in my stride but I still find them rather embarrassing.

“I'm sure you will be, perhaps even better,” I replied. Well what else could I say?

I was introduced to all the cast and backstage staff before we started a rehearsal of all my scenes. I was very pleased with the way they went. I hadn't had as much chemistry with a co-star since acting with Richard Jenkins. Greg Nunn was a very good director. He blocked out the scenes with me, and made a few suggestions during the rehearsals. I could tell that he was pleased with how the scenes had gone. Dean and I just 'clicked' but I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea from me writing that. I had already made it clear, although in a subtle manner, that I was happily married.

During one break in rehearsals, we had a cup of coffee together and I asked the question that had been bugging me: “Is Dean James your real name or a stage name?”

Dean smiled. “It's my stage name. My agent was a great fan of a young actor called James Dean who died in a car crash back in 1955, way before my time. He was only twenty-four and never fulfilled his potential. Jimmy suggested we reverse the two names and here I am 'Dean James'.”

“What about your real name” I asked.

“Promise you won't tell, or laugh?” he said.

When I nodded he said: “It's Hubert Humperdinck. Now you know why I don't use it.”

I kept a straight face. “Yes, long names mean smaller type on billboards.”

He looked at me suspiciously and then burst out laughing: “You're very kind Harriet.”

“Are you related to the German composer?” I asked.

“Engelbert? I believe he is a distant relative,” replied Dean, “But musical talent was not passed down to me. I did hear that there was an English singer who actually changed his name to Engelbert Humperdinck. Go figure.”

“Well you don't need musical talent, since you have enough acting talent to get by,” I responded. I wouldn't call that flattery, I was just speaking the truth.

The important thing about getting on so well with a co-star is that I was now much more relaxed and confident that the peformances would be a success. We all worked hard to achieve this and on opening night as I stood in the wings as was my custom, waiting for the show to start, I could hear the buzz of excitement in the audience. Greg walked by and paused: “It's a full house tonight.” he said

“I can hear them,” I replied with a smile, feeling quite confident that they would enjoy the show.

The lights dimmed and Chorus strode onto the stage, bowed and began to recite those well-known lines:

'Two households both alike in dignity
In fair Verona where we lay our scene...”

We were off and running.

Even at that point in my career, I could tell when a performance was going well, and this one certainly was. We could hear the audience reactions to the drama and the love scenes. Dean incidentally was a very good kisser, but strictly closed mouths of course!

During the final scene in the mausoleum the audience were very quiet, as if they were holding their breath and hoping for a happy ending, and when the Prince spoke his final words:

'For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'

there was complete silence for at least ten seconds and then the applause began and it was like rolling thunder. Dean and I had been hidden by a curtain which enable me to go offstage and change into another costume, one without the fake blood where I had 'stabbed' myself.

The curtain calls began, and when Dean and I walked down the stage hand in hand and bowed, the audience were on their feet and cheering. It would be a strange person who was not pleased with such a response. We walked out of the doors at the back of the stage and the applause continued, so the whole cast walked out again, with Dean and I in the middle. We all joined hands and bowed again and again. Then everyone, including Dean turned and left the stage leaving me standing there alone and slightly surprised!

Obviously a speech was called for, so I thanked everyone for coming.

“It has been wonderful as a British actress to perform in the United States again, especially with such a talented cast,” I said to more applause.

I had been told that the State Governer and his wife were there so I acknowledged them by name to yet more applause. I was starting to wonder how I could gracefully leave the stage and then I had a brainwave.

“It's a convention for musical concerts to end with an encore, but not common at all after a play,” I said. “Nevertheless, you have been such a wonderful audience that I thought I would conclude this evening with a short speech by my favourite author, William Shakespeare, in which he sums up perfectly what we have all experienced tonight.” Inevitably there was more applause.

“This comes from 'The Tempest' and is spoken by Prospero. I waited for the applause to cease and then began:

'Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.'

“Thank you, and good night.” With that I bowed, turned and left the stage to more applause.

As I walked through the door at the back of the stage Greg Nunn was waiting for me. For a moment I wondered if I had upset him with my 'ad-lib', but he beamed.

“That was wonderful Harriet. You sent them away happy. What more could an audience want? They'll remember this night for the rest of their lives”

I returned to my dressing room which I shared with Olivia. I had been offered one on my own but I had no problems in sharing with my understudy, I never have. Olivia was bubbling over: “That was the best performance of Juliet that I've ever seen”, she said. “And the way you handled the audience at the end, I could never do that.”

“I really had no choice,” I laughed. “They all went off and left me alone on the stage. I would have looked a bit stupid running after them.”

“Well, you did it very well,” she said. “I guess I can go home now and leave you to change. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” With that she left.

I phoned Reggie every evening while I was away and tonight had been no exception. However, he also insisted that I ring him when the performance was over to tell him how it went.

“You realise that with the time diffrence it might be three o'clock in the moring there, before I can ring?”

“It doesn't matter. It's the weekend. I'll wait up for you,” was his reply.

When I rang our home number, the phone rang for a full minute before a sleepy voice answered it.

“Reggie! I told you it was too late to phone you,” I said.

“Nonsense, I was sitting here watching television and I just dozed off for a bit. So how did it go?”

“Very well indeed. It was a full house and judging by the applause, they enjoyed the performance,” I said. “I think it's going to be a good season, but I'd still rather be there with you.”

“Me too,” he replied. “I'm marking off the days on the calendar. It won't be so long until you come back”

“I love you Reggie,” I said softly to my gorgeous man who responded in kind.

After I hung up, I changed out of my costume, took off my stage makeup and walked to the stage door where Paul was waiting to take me back to the hotel. It was comforting to know that I didn't have to rely on a taxi. With such a large population in America, I'm sure I was in no greater danger than in England, but you hear stories about muggings, especially late at night, and it doesn't pay to be over-confident. One day I asked Paul if he carried a gun.

“Yes I do Miss Harriet, but I've never had to use it apart from practise at the range,” was his reply. I guess that was some comfort to me; it's just that in England I would never have expected a chauffer to carry a firearm. Apparently it's that 'Second Amendment' thing over there.

To be continued.