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 59   Sweet William

I looked around me. What was different? Then all was explained. Frances walked out of the bedroom having heard the door close. She looked amazing, so pretty and feminine, but there was something else, her left arm was in a sling.

“Harriet!” she gasped. “How lovely to see you!”

“It's lovely to see you too, Frances, I knew something was different the moment I stepped into the apartment, but I never imagined this.”

She smiled. “Yes, men do seem to live in a bit of a mess don't they? It takes a woman to keep a place tidy.”

I stepped forward and gave her a hug, being careful not to knock her left arm.

“So what's happened to you?” I asked.

“Have you got time for a cup of tea? I”m getting quite good at doing things one-handed. Then I can tell you all about it.”

I sat down at the kitchen table and watched her as she dexterously managed the kettle, cups and saucers, insisting that she could do it on her own. She was dressed in a pretty frock, nylons and heels and I thought the 'retro' look really suited her, like advertisements in 1950s issues of 'National Geographic' . She might have been overdressed for doing housework, but all I could think was 'She's back! Thank goodness!' If how she was dressed made her feel good, well why not? It did cross my mind to ask how on earth she managed to put on stockings one-handed, but I thought it better not to ask. Perhaps Dale had helped her?

Frances brought the teapot and strainer to the table together with some biscuits on a plate, cups and saucers and a small jug of milk. I offered to help but she insisted on doing it herself. I do prefer tea leaves to tea bags and she hadn't forgotten. When she sat down I could see that she had a large bruise on her head which even makeup couldn't conceal. She saw me looking and said 'It's a long story but I'll make it brief as I expect you have to go to the theatre to rehearse.

“Four days ago I was driving In the countryside near Warwick. I was thinking about Dale as I so often do and I think I was a bit distracted. Suddenly an animal ran across the road – I'm not sure if it was a fox or a dog – anyway I instinctively swerved to avoid it and ran off the road and into a tree.”

I gasped at this, and Frances smiled.

“Luckily it was not a very big tree and it broke on impact and the car tipped on its left side. There was a car following me and they stopped to help, ringing the ambulance, police and fire brigade. I'm sure I was knocked out for a few minutes because when I came to, a young man was looking at me anxiously and asking if I was alright? I mean here I was in a car tipped on its side, fortunately, held in position by my seat belt and when I moved a pain shot up my arm. I'm not sure what I said to him, but it might have been something like 'Are you kidding?'”

I managed a smile at that.

“The ambulance arrived first but they had to wait for the fire brigade to get the door open and lift me out. They gave me a pain-killing injection and I was grateful for that. I don't think there was much for the police to do since it was single-car accident and it was fairly obvious what had happened, but I suppose they wanted to know if I had been drinking, which I hadn't.

“The ambulance took me to A&E at Warwick Hospital where they asked me for my 'next of kin'. I told them it was my husband Dale, but that we were separated. 'I think he'll still want to know about your accident,' said the nurse. I was doubtful about that but I agreed that he should be notified. The other thing I had to tell them was that I was trans and I wasn't too sure how they would react, but they were fine about it. I suppose they see all sorts of people there.

“I was wheeled off to Radiology for an x-ray on my arm which confirmed that the radius was broken, so then the arm was put in a plaster cast. Since I had a massive bruise on my head, they said I would have to stay overnight in case I had concussion, especially since I had lost consciousness. They pulled the curtains around the cubicle so that I could have some privacy and rest.

“Suddenly, Dale was there. He looked so pale I thought he was going to faint. He sat down beside the trolley and said 'Oh Frances, what happened to you?' There were tears in his eyes. I explained what had happened and he said 'You could have been killed. Oh Frances, I've been such a fool, can you ever forgive me?'

“It seemed funny in a way, here was I, the one with the injuries and I was suddenly consoling him. 'Well, I wasn't killed, and in a few weeks I'll be right as rain,' I said. Dale was clasping my hand and now he raised it to his lips and kissed it. 'Frances, please come back; life without you isn't worth living. I don't care about what's happened or how you want to live your life, I love you and I want to be with you.'

“Now I had tears in my eyes too because I felt the same way. I took a deep breath and said 'Dale, if this is what it takes to be back with you, I'll stop my hormones and go back to being Frank'. He stared at me for a moment and then he said the sweetest thing: 'No, you are Frances now. This is who you are and you are who I love.' The tears were really flowing by now – we must have looked a sight! At one point a nurse looked around the cubicle curtains and I think she had some idea of what was going on because she quickly backed away.

“'Please kiss me Dale,' I said. I hope that doesn't sound like a test of his sincerity, I really just wanted him to kiss me, and he did, a very gentle loving kiss. 'I've missed you so much. Of course I'll come back,' I said.

“I was discharged the following morning and Dale came to pick me up. We drove to my flat in Warwick first so that I could pick up my clothes and empty the refrigerator and pantry and then we came here to Stratford. I can't tell you how good it felt to be back again. I had to notify the business where I work of course and since it involves so much typing, they've given me a month off, or until the cast comes off my arm, so now I can go back to being a housewife again and things can get back to normal.”

I was so happy that I was nearly speechless. “I'm sorry it took a car accident for you to get back together,” I said.

“Believe me, Harriet, I would have taken a lot more pain to have got back with Dale again,” Frances replied.

I suddenly realised that time was passing, and glancing at my watch I said that I would have to go to the theatre.

“I'll have tea ready when you come back,” said Frances.

I drove to the theatre with a song in my heart. Thank goodness, one big problem in my life was solved; now if only Thomas could start producing good blood cells, my happiness would be complete. I was in daily contact with Emma of course, but nothing had happened yet with Thomas's blood counts. We didn't really expect it yet, but it would be nice to hear that something was happening.

At the theatre, I threw myself into rehearsing, and Jeremy must have seen a difference in me because he asked what had happened. I wasn't going to make a public announcement about it, but since he knew about Frances leaving the apartment, it was only fair to tell him that she was back.

“I'm so pleased to hear it; that will make a big difference to you, and Dale of course.”

“Oh yes, I can hardly wait to see Dale this evening; I'm sure he is ecstatic,” I replied.

I wasn't wrong. When I arrived at the apartment after rehearsal, Frances was looking extremely glamorous. as she prepared to serve the evening meal. I couldn't help thinking of that famous excerpt from the 1950's Home Economics Book about how to look after your husband. I kept my mouth shut and anyway the way Dale looked when he arrived a few minutes later put it out of my mind. He was carrying a bunch of flowers and didn't look anything like the man I had seen a few weeks earlier. He was smiling and he looked ten years younger at least!

“Harriet! It's lovely to see you!” he said, walking up and kissing me on the cheek. Then he walked over to Frances in the kitchen, presented her with the flowers and exchanged a lingering kiss on the lips.

“Darling, that meal smells delicious, and so do you,” he murmured but I have very good hearing although I pretended not to notice.

Dale carried the plates and serving dishes to the table (there are some things that are impossible with only one hand), and we sat down to dinner. It was just like the old times. I couldn't have been happier and neither could Dale and Frances. They kept exchanging loving glances and I uttered a silent prayer of thanks. It was wonderful to see them so happy.

“I hope you are coming to see the play,” I said.

“We wouldn't miss it for worlds, would we darling?” said Dale turning to Frances. She enthusiastically agreed with him.

“You know I love to see any productions in which you appear,” she said to me.

“I'll see if I can get you some First Night tickets. They're in hot demand, but there are always a few returns,” I said.

I made a mental note to get Frances a program with all the cast autographs for her collection.

“I've never seen 'Henry VIII' before,” she said.

“Well, it's not staged very often. It's certainly the first time I've performed in it. I think it's really good to perform some of Shakespeare's lesser-known plays, even ones such as this which he co-wrote with another author,” I replied.

We enjoyed the evening together, catching up on what we'd been doing, while carefully steering clear of Frances and Dale's recent problems. I retired fairly early as the following day would be full-on rehearsing. I suspect Dale and Frances retired soon after me, but if there were any sounds coming from their bedroom, they weren't loud enough to keep me awake.

The days counted down and soon it was the First Night of the play. I had been very lucky in obtaining two excellent returned tickets for Frances and Dale in the front stalls. I couldn't get three seats together so Reggie would be sitting on his own, but he didn't mind. There was still no good news about Thomas, but I had to concentrate on the performance and try not to think about him too much.

We played to a full house that Saturday and the performance went very well. We received a standing ovation at the conclusion. It's an ensemble piece without any dominant character or characters, although, during the curtain calls, I was the last to appear together with David Lodge who was playing Henry. I should mention that at this time of his life, Henry was still a slim and fit young man. You can view his suit of armour in the Tower of London to see that he was far from the portly figure in the famous Holbein portrait painted in his later years.

It was our tradition to have supper at 'Oppos' after the performance, and Reggie, Frances and Dale come to my dressing room after I had changed out of my costume and removed my stage makeup.

We drove to the restaurant and had been given a six-seat table as all the four-seat tables had been booked. I must say we looked very 'swish', Frances and me in elegant gowns and the men in dinner suits.

As we waited for our orders, Reggie announced that he had something to say.

“When I returned to my seat during the Interval, the elderly couple sitting next to me and very ncely dressed, spoke to me, well the man did initially, in a southern American accent. He told me that he and his wife love Shakespeare and while they were holidaying in Britain, it was on their 'bucket list' to attend a performance of a Shakespeare play in the Bard's home town.

“” 'I hope you are enjoying it, sir', I said. 'It's superb, better than I could have hoped for, but then you British grew up with Shakespeare,' he replied. 'I'm particularly taken by that young lady playing Queen Katherine; apart from my wife she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and boy, can she act.'

“Now I don't normally say anything in such circumstances, but then I'm proud of you darling, so I said to him 'As a matter of fact, she's my wife.' 'Really sir? Then you're a very lucky man,' he said and I had to agree with him.”

You can imagine this caused general merriment, and my cheeks were pink by now, but it's also very nice to hear your husband say how much he's proud of you.

Suddenly he gasped.“Would you believe it, I can see them at the door right now, talking to the Maitre d'. I think he's telling them there are no tables left.”

“What a shame,” I said. “Well, we have two vacant seats, shall we invite them to sit with us?”

The answer being in the affirmative, Reggie hurried over to the door before the old couple could leave and soon returned with them.

“This is very kind of you folks,” said the old gentleman. “May I introduce myself; Robert J. Kosciuszko, and this is my wife Martha.”

“Please sit down, Mr and Mrs Kosciuszko,” I said. “That's a Polish name I believe?”

“Indeed it is, ma'am. Not many people know that.”

“My aunt lives in Australia, and their highest mountain was named by an explorer after a Polish patriot of the same name,” I said, and then thought to myself 'Harriet are you showing off?'

Anyway, it broke the ice and when I told them that it was a first night tradition for us to dress up and have supper at 'Oppos', but the rules were that I had to pay for anyone sitting at our table, they reluctantly agreed to abide by them.

I made the introductions, pointing out that Reggie's surname and my married name was Staunton. “He never complains when someone calls him 'Mr Stow', but I know he prefers them to get it right,” I said with a smile.

We all enjoyed a very pleasant supper and conversation and I had to sign their program of course. The Kosciuszkos mentioned that they had attended a performance at the Globe theatre in London and I had to admit that, yes, I had performed there.

When they discovered that I had spent some time in America as an 'artist in residence', Mr Kosciuszko, in particular, became quite excited and said that if I ever had a mind to do that again, he was connected to a small professional company in Louisiana who would be thrilled to host my stay. I explained that I was currently quite busy, but promised to consider it, and I accepted his business card and put it in my handbag.

Not all the conversation was about me, thank goodness. I managed to steer them into telling us about their current trip and the places they had been in mainland Europe as well as Britain.

“There are so many old palaces, castles and churches,” said Mrs Kosciuszko, “But they are all so beautifully preserved. You folks certainly look after your history. When you shoot those historic dramas I don't think you need to build sets at all, you use the real thing.”

I had to agree with her and then she wanted to know if I was in any productions that she could buy on DVD. Needless to say, I avoided referring to 'Under Milk Wood' but did mention 'Romeo and Juliet', which they could purchase in the theatre shop in an NTSC version. Try as I might, the conversation kept coming back to me! Anyway, they were charming people, and a few months later I received a very nice note from them after they had returned home, addressed to me care of the theatre and thanking us for making the evening perfect and saying how much they had enjoyed my 'Juliet'.

The season of 'Henry VIII' continued and we played to almost full houses. The only cloud on the horizon was that Thomas was still not responding to the bone marrow transplant nearly four weeks after I had donated it. Everyone was worried that it had been a failure. I visited him in hospital when I travelled up to York. He was pale and listless, and Emma looked like she was ready to break down. I couldn't help feeling worried about both of them. Thank goodness for Aunt Peggy who was doing a great job looking after the rest of the family.

One day when I had the morning off, I did some shopping and then, with Thomas on my mind, I called in at Holy Trinity Church where Shakespeare is buried. I confess I am not very religious but I don't consider it appropriate to try and bargain with the Almighty along the lines of 'If You will do something for me then I'll do something for You.”

Shakespeare was another matter. I had been performing his works long enough that I felt I knew him personally. I walked down to the chancel, where Shakespeare and some of his family are buried and stood at the foot of his grave The church was empty, which is unusual as it's a tourist attraction and I began to speak to him along these lines:
“Will, I feel I know you because for years now I've been reciting the wonderful lines you wrote. I hope you think I've made a decent job of it and I intend to keep reciting them to the best of my ability for years to come. If you've got any influence where you are, please put in a good word for my young nephew Thomas who badly needs help right now. His mother is at her wit's end and we are all so worried about him. In return, I can't promise to do any more than I'm doing right now, and I hope that's enough for you.”

If anyone had heard me at that moment, I'm sure they would have wondered about this odd woman talking to a grave, but no-one was there to hear me except perhaps the spirit of the man I was talking to. It was like it was meant to be that the church was empty at that moment because as I left, a busload of tourists entered and the peace of the church was rather shattered by their chatter.

After that, I went home and had my usual afternoon siesta prior to an evening performance.

I must have been asleep for about an hour when my telephone rang. It was Emma and she was crying. For one horrible moment I thought the worst had happened, but thank goodness I was wrong.

“Harriet! Wonderful news! Thomas is starting to respond to the bone marrow transplant. His counts have all risen. The doctors have cautioned us not to get our hopes up too soon, but I'm sure that he's finally turned the corner!”

“Oh Emma, that's wonderful news,” I replied and my eyes were filling with tears. “I'll come up and see you all on Sunday; please give him my love.”

We spoke a few minutes longer and after we finished, I whispered: “Thanks Will, I owe you.”

Some people will say it was a miracle, some a co-incidence, I'm reserving my judgment.

One thing I will say is that next day there was a special bouquet of flowers placed on William Shakespeare's grave, with a card saying simply 'Thank you, Will, H x.'. I often wonder what the minister thought of that?

To be continued.