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I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

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Chapter 1   A new job

Emma flounced into the room (no other word really describes it), and flung herself theatrically on to the couch. My sweet mother looked up from her sewing and mildly said “A bad day dear?” I looked up from my book, just managing to stifle a smile.

My sister, who is four years older than me is an actress, and quite a good one, but sometimes she has difficulty in distinguishing between the theatre and the real world. I was reminded of the quotation from Oscar Wilde 'Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life.'

“Bad? You wouldn't read about it!” she exclaimed. Maybe we wouldn't read about it, but I knew from experience that we were about to have a blow by blow account of what had happened.

“Burt – that man Duncan our producer employed as assistant stage manager – goodness knows why - was acting as prompter at the matinee. It's a long play and we've had a few 'dries'. Well I was in the middle of a long speech and that's what I had.”

“A 'dry'?” I put in helpfully.

“Yes, well everyone has them from time to time, I'm sure Olivier did,” she replied defensively. “I was on stage by myself and there was no-one to help me, so I edged across to the prompt corner and there was the wretched man sound asleep over the book!”

Even my mother couldn't fully suppress a smile, and Emma glared at us “It wasn't funny,” she exclaimed and Mum managed to straighten her face and say soothingly “Of course not dear, it must have been very distressing.”

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“Then or afterwards?”

“Well, both.”

“I managed to fudge my way through it somehow, and afterwards I complained to David the director. It wasn't the first time Burt had slipped up. He's been hitting the bottle again, and as a result he's no longer with us.”

“What happened for the evening show?” asked Mum.

“Well, Robin the stage manager stood by in the prompt corner, and fortunately he wasn't needed, but he can't be expected to do that every performance. We need a new prompter.”

“What about Harold?” said Mum.

Emma turned to look at me. “Harry? But he's had no experience in the theatre. Well, he's done school plays but that doesn't count.”

“But he's got an amazing memory and he's not working – he could start tomorrow.”

Emma thought for a moment.

“Maybe I could get him a trial,” said Emma. “I'll ring Duncan first thing in the morning.”

I should explain that to Emma 'first thing in the morning' means about ten o'clock. After a show she usually doesn't get home until nearly midnight, so that's understandable. Much to my surprise she was actually up and on the telephone by half past eight, and then still in her dressing gown, came into the kitchen where Mum and I were having breakfast,

“I sweet-talked Duncan and he's willing to give you a trial,” she said.

Somehow that didn't really surprise me. My sister is a very pretty girl, a great attribute for an actress, and I have the distinct impression that Duncan had a soft spot for her. The prospect of a job after several months of unemployment was exciting.

“Thanks, Sis,” I said, “I won't let you down.”

“Be at the theatre by twelve o'clock and David the director will see you when he has time during the rehearsal.”

I need to explain a bit about Bridchester. It's situated on the north-east coast of England, some miles to the south of Bridlington. As its name suggests, it originally sprang up as a small settlement around a Roman fort about 300AD. Small remnants of the fort remain, but much of the stonework ended up in town buildings such as the local parish church.

The town really came into its own in the Victorian era when the railway arrived and many visitors came to holiday and bathe in the sea. This was thought to be a cure for many ailments at a time when medical diagnosis and treatment was, to be kind, rather basic. Hotels sprang up along the promenade, and the pier, a marvel of Victorian engineering was built, with a small music hall at the far end. Some people claim that the town is stuck in a time-warp, but this is an attraction for the many people who retire there since it reminds them of their youth.

The theatre company for which my sister works is called the Apollo Players. They are a repertory company, one of the last in the country, playing for ten months of the year in Bridchester's Palace Theatre. Most of the shows run for three weeks during which time the company is rehearsing for the next show. It's a tough life and you have to be a dedicated actor to take it on, but many famous names have started out that way.

The theatre is well frequented by the holiday crowds in summer, and having a good reputation, the locals from the town and surrounding districts make up the numbers out of holiday season. Having seen a number of their productions since my sister joined them six years ago, I would class them as a good standard provincial company. Most of the cast would love to graduate to London's West End of course, but the more practical ones realise that a regular income is preferable to the risky business of trying to succeed in the big time, and possibly spending a lot of time 'resting' – which is the actors' euphemism for being 'out of work'.

I should now tell you a bit about myself. I was eighteen at the time of which I write which is fourteen years ago, and I was unemployed. Christened Harold Arthur Stow, I was living with my sister Emma Jane, aged twenty-two, and my widowed mother Elizabeth. My late father was Dr Harold Oliver Stow who earlier in his career lectured on the Classics and History in a Midlands ‘Redbrick University’. I know that he coveted a position in one of the 'Ancient Universities' – preferably Oxford, but it was not to be. Finding the position too stressful, he resigned about the time I was ten and took up a position as Classics master at Bridchester Grammar School, an all-boys school, and hence we moved to a three- bedroom cottage just outside of town and I joined the school. He taught the boys Latin and Greek and also his favourite subjects of Early and Medieval English History. Perhaps you can now see where I acquired my names.

At first I thought that he might have jumped out of the frying pan into the fire, but Dad seemed happy enough in this new position. The boys affectionately called him 'HOS' (his initials), not to his face but of course he was fully aware of it. It was a little strange being at the same school and having to call my father 'Sir' while in class, but we managed the situation alright. Sadly, when I was fourteen, he suffered a massive stroke and died. It was a great shock to us of course and left us living in greatly reduced circumstances. My sister, who had just started her theatrical career offered to resign and get a 'proper job' – probably secretarial work, but Mum knew she had her heart set on the stage and felt she should continue with her career, so long as she was getting a regular income from it. Her contribution, plus a small pension paid to Mum who was not well enough to work, enable us to get by.

I was allowed to continue at school, where I studied arts-related subjects having no aptitude or enthusiasm for science or mathematics. I grew to a height of five feet six inches and there I stopped. I was, and still am, very slim, with blonde hair which I liked to wear rather longer than was fashionable.

Since I went to an 'al- boys' school, I had very little to do with girls except for my sister. I admired her greatly. Some people have called her a 'girly girl' which I feel is an insult. I preferred to think that she she was very feminine and enjoyed being a girl with all its advantages. While so many girls and young women seemed to prefer wearing trousers Emma wore skirts or pretty dresses at least half the time and why not? I couldn't help thinking that boys are limited in what they can wear, and since girls have access to such a wide variety of clothes, why did so many dress almost like boys? I should mention that despite my feelings, I never felt the urge to try on any of Emma's clothes. I knew they would never look as good on me as they did on her.

One thing I did like was the dramatic arts. Each year the school staged a play, and when I was fifteen I was selected to play the part of a girl. I think there were three reasons for this – it was in that era of strict segregation of the sexes, before girls from local schools were called in to play female parts in plays produced at all-boys schools; being small I was the only boy that fitted into the dress they had acquired for the character, and finally I have a remarkably good memory, for which I claim no credit, it just happened.

It seemed I acquitted myself so well in the role that I was asked to play a girl again the following year. It didn't really feel like being a girl since I just wore a dress over my normal underpants and vest, and wore a rather unconvincing wig.

I detested contact sports and preferred the company of other boys like me – the school 'swots' or 'nerds'. We were despised by the boys who loved sport. There was one exception. Reggie was the exact opposite of me, tall, athletic, good looking and an excellent sportsman, but not quite so good academically. By pure chance, we had sat together on the bus to school one day and he had confessed to not having completed his Latin homework. I asked to have a look at it, and by the time the bus stopped outside the school, it was done, but not too well of course, I was too smart for that. The new classics master would never believe a perfect translation of Caesar's Gallic Wars from Reggie.

From then on, we developed a symbiotic relationship. A few of the boys had started bullying me, including calling me 'Nancy'. I was too naïve to understand the implications of that, but Reggie let it be known that if this continued, they would have to answer to him, and the bullying stopped. From time to time I called in at Reggie's home to help him with his homework. His mother was very welcoming, and most of the time we did the homework in Reggie's bedroom since he had two younger sisters who tended to make a lot of noise and distracted us.

We became really close friends, and it was during one of these homework sessions that we were laughing over an elementary mistake he had made when suddenly we stopped laughing and looked intently at each other. I was convinced that he was going to kiss me, and what's more I wanted him to. He had just started to make a move towards me when his mother knocked on the door and appeared with a tray of milk and biscuits. Whether she noticed anything I do not know, but the spell was broken and after she left, we carried on with the homework as though nothing had happened. That was the only time we nearly joined lips, but in my dreams, I often thought of what it might be like to be Reggie's girlfriend.

I completed my General Certificate of Secondary Education with passes in English Language and Literature, French, Latin, Greek, Citizenship and Information Technology, but staying on at school for ‘A’ levels and going to university was not really an option in our financial position, and it would really help if I got a job. Reggie, who had made great strides academically, was more fortunate since his parents could afford to send him to university, so he stayed on at school another year to do 'A' levels with the intention of applying to York University to study Economics. I couldn't help feeling a bit jealous as I would love to have studied Theatre there, but it was not to be. Sadly, with our lives going down different pathways we drifted apart.

Finding a job wasn't so easy, and for two months I was unemployed except for stacking supermarket shelves at night – not exactly a job with career prospects. Finally, I did manage to find a position as a receptionist in a medical practice. It was a maternity leave replacement and I was told that the lady in question was unlikely to return. Unfortunately, after nine months she decided she needed the money and there being no other position available I had to leave. They gave me a good reference, but getting another position was not easy no matter how many I applied for, and once again I was unemployed. Hence when Emma suggested I might be able to work at the theatre, I jumped at the chance.

I arrived at the theatre about eleven-thirty, looking as smart as I could, and entered as directed through the stage door. Just inside was a sort of cubicle where a grisly old man looked up from his newspaper and asked what my business was. After I explained who I was he told me to continue on down the corridor and take a left and then right which would take me to the front of the stalls on the OP side. He rather obviously waited for me to ask what OP meant, but having a sister who is an actress I knew it meant 'Opposite Prompt' or in other words the left side of the stage from the audience's viewpoint, also referred to as 'stage right' by the actors as they faced the audience, so I thanked him and started off down the corridor.

Following his directions, I arrived at an open door which led into the theatre's auditorium which was in semi-darkness. The stage, however, was brightly lit and the light spilled over into the stalls where I saw two people sitting in the middle, about five rows back with a board propped up on the seats in front of them. Several people were on the stage, my sister amongst them and they were rehearsing a scene, so I stood there quietly and watched them. I remembered that Emma had told me she was playing the part of Alice Dearth in a play called “Dear Brutus” and that it was a comedy by J.M. Barrie who wrote 'Peter Pan'. When I asked her if it was about Romans, she laughed and explained that the title comes from a Shakespeare quote from Julius Caesar “The fault dear Brutus is not in our stars but in ourselves.”. I didn't totally understand what that meant, and the rehearsal didn't help either.

After about ten minutes, one of the men watching the rehearsal called out “We'll take a ten minute break, then I want to run through the scene with Dearth, Alice and Margaret.” and he got up and walked along the row of seats and down the steps to where I was standing, offering his hand.

“Hello, I'm David the director, and you must be Harry,” he said with a smile.

“Yes sir,” I replied, “Emma said you might be able to give me a trial.”

“Call me David,” he replied, “Everyone else does. Come up on the stage and I'll show you around.”

I followed him as he climbed the steps at the side of the now-empty stage, and walked over to the far side which I knew was the Prompt Side. Walking into the wings he stopped by a table which had a number of objects on it which I assumed to be props. In addition, there was a telephone with a lead running into a box with several switches, a microphone, and a large ring-folder which David picked up.

“This is 'the book',” he said, “In other words the script of the play with stage directions. I take it your sister told you we are rehearsing 'Dear Brutus'?”

“Yes S...David.” (Old schoolboy habits die hard.)

“We're rehearsing Act Two at present, The cast are going quite well, but there may be the odd stumble, so I'd like you to follow the script and if they dry up, give them the next phrase. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes David,” I replied.

He opened the book and leafed through the pages and said “We'll begin here with Dearth and his daughter Margaret.”

With that, he left me and returned to his seat in the stalls. I felt my heart beating faster, but I was determined not to screw up. Two cast members had wandered onto the stage, an older man and a young girl, about my age and very pretty. From his place in the stalls David called out “Alright Sandy and Mary, we'll take it from your entrance.”

I noticed that there was an artist's easel set up in the middle of the stage with a chair before it, and a few other chairs placed apparently at random. Looking at the script I saw that they were supposed to be in a wood, so I presumed the chairs marked the position of trees. The two cast members left the stage and then came running on, Mary arriving at the easel first.

“Daddy, daddy, I have won,” she began.

I followed the script carefully as they went through the sequence. At one point I thought Mary was going to 'dry', but after a moment's hesitation she carried on before I could give her the line. Later in the sequence, Emma entered the stage too and I remembered her telling me she played Alice Dearth, the artist's wife, although Dearth didn't seem to recognise her. Sometimes it's not easy to follow a storyline when the actors aren't in costume.

The sequence ended on a dramatic high note as Mary ran off the stage and into the wings where I was standing with the book.

“Oh hello,” she said, “Are you the new assistant?”

I could feel myself blushing as I replied, “Yes, I'm Harry.” I hesitated and said, “You were very good.”

She flashed me a smile. “Why thank you,” she said.

At that moment, David appeared. “Mary darling, can I have a word?”

She followed him onto the centre of the stage where they engaged in earnest conversation. Obviously his assessment of her performance was a little more critical than mine, judging by the look on her face.

After this, David called for the cast to rehearse the start of Act Two, and I didn't see Mary again. This time I had two opportunities to prompt cast members. The rehearsal finished at four o'clock so that the cast members who were performing in the evening play could get some rest and refreshment. That included my sister Emma.

At this point the man who had been sitting next to David in the stalls appeared, carrying a clipboard, and introduced himself as Robin, the Stage Manager. I realised that he would be my immediate superior, provided I secured the job. He welcomed me on board, said 'well done', and then said he had to go and attend to some things but that he would see me at the evening's performance, so that was good news. Emma came to get me and told me that David was pleased with how I had picked up on the two prompts, I could attend the evening performance and I could come back again the next day.

One of the advantages of having a sister as a cast member was that she was able to get free seats for Mum and me. I had already seen the evening's play, J.B. Priestley's “They Came to a City” in which Emma played the part of Dorothy Stritton. It might seem strange for the company to be producing two relatively old plays in succession, 'Brutus' was written in 1917, and “City” in 1943, but they were part of a 'Classic Series' by famous writers that the company performed every couple of years. They performed some of Shakespeare's plays too, but most of the works were much more up to date, especially during the holiday season when the town was filled with visitors. The permanent town residents being mainly older people enjoyed seeing the classics.

It's one thing to be sitting in the audience enjoying a play, but quite a different experience to be standing in the wings following the play, providing props as needed and being ready to prompt. It's surprisingly tiring to be concentrating hard for about two hours, knowing that the cast might need your assistance at any moment. Robin was hovering nearby, but I didn't need to call on his help. Now that the cast was a week into the season, they were very comfortable with their lines and no prompting was needed.

For the next two weeks, I attended the morning rehearsal of 'Dear Brutus' and the evening performance of 'City'. I formed a friendship with Mary who was the only cast member of about my age. She told me that she had wanted to be an actress since she was a little girl, and this was her first big break. She confided in me that her ultimate goal was to play in London's West End, and I encouraged her by saying I was sure she was good enough. Whether this was actually true I wasn't sure, but I had already realised that many actors have fragile egos that respond well to being boosted.

Over the following two weeks, I learned a lot about stage management from Robin, who was generous with his time, explaining many things to me. I also memorised the scripts of both plays, not through any special effort, but because I am one of those fortunate people with what is termed a 'photographic memory'.

The season of “They Came to a City” came to an end on the Saturday, and “Dear Brutus” commenced on the following Monday. The newspaper reviews were eagerly scanned the morning after the first performance, and they were universally good without being 'raves'. This was the last play of the season leading up to Christmas when we would have a break, so David took the opportunity to have some extra rehearsals and make a few tweaks to the show which I thought worked well, although as a junior member of the team I didn't dare to venture an opinion.

Mary and I continued to spend time together which we both enjoyed. It wasn't really a boyfriend and girlfriend relationship, we were just friends. I actually felt a little jealous of her that she was on the stage and enjoying applause every night. There was another reason to feel jealous of her too, but I tried not to think about that.

The first two weeks of the season passed quickly. I had settled into my role as a prompter and effectively assistant stage manager and was really enjoying myself. There is something about theatre which I found then and still do, alluring, one might even say seductive (if that's not too theatrical an expression). Unlike a film, where a single performance is recorded and can be endlessly repeated, in live theatre, even though the script remains the same, each performance is slightly different.

I remember David speaking to the cast of one show where he felt that that nearing the end of the season, some members were just going through the motions.

“To you, this is another performance of something you've done many times already, but to the audience, this is the one and only time they will see this play, and they've paid good money to do so. Therefore you owe it to them to make it the best and most memorable performance on stage that they have ever seen.”

I think that should be printed out and stuck on the mirror of every theatre dressing room in the land. It had the desired effect and the laggards immediately lifted their game.

All went well with the performances of 'Brutus', and the house was nearly full most nights. Then something happened which had a profound effect, not only on me but my family too, and things would never be the same again.

To be continued

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.

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I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

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Chapter 2 An unexpected request.

Half-way through the third and final week of 'Dear Brutus', I couldn't help noticing that Mary didn't look well.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked her.

“Yes, I'm fine,” she replied,= and then seeing from the look on my face that I didn't believe her, “Well I've got a bit of a pain in the right side of my abdomen. I had a fall at my jazz ballet class last Sunday and I think I might have pulled a muscle.”

“You look like you're running a temperature to me, have you told your parents?”

“No, I'm sure it will go away soon. I'm taking some paracetamol,” she replied.

“Well I think you should tell them if it doesn't clear up soon,” I said. “Supposing it's something else like appendicitis? Have you had your appendix out?”

“No I haven't, but don't worry Harry, I'm sure I'll be alright; there are only a few more performances and then I can have a rest.”

Being a small company we didn't have understudies and Mary obviously felt obliged to keep going, but I was worried about her.

“Mary, please promise me you'll tell your parents tonight. You should at least get a doctor to check you out.”

Mary smiled at me “Alright, I will if it makes you feel better.” She kissed me on the cheek.

“Well it's you I want to feel better,” was my reply.

On the Thursday and Friday performances, Mary seemed a little better, although I thought I saw her wince as she ran onto the stage. She told me she had been to the doctor and had been given some medicine. I suspected that after all, it might be a 'woman's problem' that she didn't feel comfortable telling me about so I said nothing. Other people also noticed she didn't look well but she assured them that she had been to the doctor and was being treated for a muscle strain.

It was Saturday morning about eight-thirty, and Emma, Mum and I were having breakfast together when there was a knock on the front door. I opened it and was surprised to see David standing there. I invited him in, wondering what would bring him to our door at that hour. He seemed very agitated as he came into the kitchen and sat down, declining a cup of coffee. We all looked expectantly at him.

“Last night Mary was taken to hospital with a suspected burst appendix,” he said abruptly. We all stared at him in stunned silence. “Did you know she wasn't well, Harry?”

“Well, she told me she had a pain in her abdomen and I told her to tell her parents. Then she told me she had seen a doctor and he had given her medicine. Other people asked if she was feeling unwell too. She did look a bit better in the last couple of days.”

“I see. Well the fact is she didn't tell her parents, and she has been treating herself with high doses of paracetamol which could have had really bad consequences for her liver. Last night she became so ill she was taken by ambulance to the hospital and operated on in the early hours of this morning.”

“Is she alright?” I asked, astounded at what had happened and thinking I was in serious trouble for not telling David, although I did wonder why he hadn't noticed that something was amiss with Mary. Perhaps he had too much on his mind.

“Her appendix had burst, and it was just as well they got her to the hospital when they did or she could have died. Her parents said the surgeon told them she'll be fine now she's had the surgery and is on intravenous antibiotics, but the hospital will be keeping her there for at least a week, maybe longer.”

“I'm sorry David,” I said. “I should have told you, but she assured me she had been to see a doctor, and asked me not to mention it to anyone.”

He looked seriously at me. “Well, it might have been better if you had told me, but I should have noticed something was wrong too. Anyway that's in the past now and we have a serious problem today. Tonight is our last performance. It's sold out and we have nobody to play Margaret.”

“What are you going to do?” said Mum.

“Well it's impossible to find someone at this short notice.” He hesitated. “Look I know this sounds a bit bizarre, but I am wondering if you could possibly play the part Harry? You know the play by heart, you are the right age and about the same size as Mary so you could even fit into her costume. You have a tenor voice which could easily pass for a girl's voice too.”

There was a moment's silence as we all digested this, and the three of them looked at me. Emma was the first to break the silence.

“I think you could do it Harry. I've seen you in school plays and you always acted well and seemed to be having a good time. Didn't you play the part of a girl once or twice?”

“Yes, but that was at school Emma, and this is a professional play in front of a paying audience,” I protested, although secretly, the thought of performing on stage thrilled me, whilst at the same time scaring me to death. “What do you think Mum?”

My mother looked grave. “You're an adult now Harry, and must make your own decisions, but it does seem a pity if the performance has to be cancelled for want of an actor. I saw you in those school plays too, and you were head and shoulders above the rest of the cast.”

I took a deep breath. “Alright, I'll give it a go David, but if you don't think it's working ....” I left the sentence unfinished.

The relief on his face was obvious. “Thank you, Harry. I'll be straight with you. Just in case you said yes, I've contacted Ross who plays Dearth and he's agreed to turn up for a rehearsal this morning. I'll go and ring him now. We need you too of course Emma. Can you both be at the theatre at about ten o'clock?”

After David left, we three sat and looked at each other.

“Thanks for telling him I played girls' parts, Sis. I could hardly refuse after that.”

“Well, you performed them well, and after all, back in Elizabethan times, boys always played women's roles in the theatre,” she replied. I didn't really have an answer to that at the time, although thinking about it later, I wondered just how convincing those Elizabethan boys were in their roles. Of course, everyone knew they were boys too. I was being asked to pass as a girl as well as act the role.

I arrived at the theatre just before ten o'clock. Emma had forgotten something and was about five minutes behind me, but I was determined not to be late. Word must have got around because Jim the doorman, whom I suspect lives at the theatre, wished me luck. Although I was early, David and Ross were already waiting for me. The stage was set with the magical wood, and David's first task was to take me through the scene indicating my character's movements. I'd watched Mary perform it for two weeks, but there's a world of difference between watching someone from the wings playing a role, and doing it yourself. The stage also seems much bigger when you are actually standing on it. By now Emma had arrived, so once David was satisfied I had grasped my movements, he went down to the stalls and asked Ross and me to begin.

I ran onto the stage from the OP side, closely followed by Ross who took up his position at the easel ready to paint. We were about five minutes into the scene when I knew it wasn't working. I was word-perfect on the lines but I knew that I wasn't convincing anyone – not Ross nor David, and especially not myself. I stopped and walked to the front of the stage, my eyes brimming, and shading my eyes called out to David. He must have already been at the foot of the steps because he was there a few moments later.

“David, I'm so sorry. I know this isn't working. I'm a disaster,” I quavered, nearly bursting into tears.

“It's alright Harry, it's my fault. I realise now I'm asking you to pretend you're a girl and the character Margaret at the same time without any help. Even the most experienced actor would have trouble with that. Look, I have a suggestion to make. How about we make it a full dress rehearsal with you Emma and Ross in costume and try again. How does that sound?”

“Well, if you think it will make a difference?” I said diffidently, far from convinced.

“Yes, I truly think it will,” he replied. “Mrs Arthur the wardrobe mistress is here. She can help you get ready. How about it?”

Of course I agreed, what choice did I have? I was only too well aware the performance was riding on me and time was running out, so when David took me off the stage and down the corridor to the dressing rooms, I was offering up a silent prayer that this would make a difference, although I was none too sure it would.

Mrs Arthur the wardrobe mistress is a cheerful motherly woman in her early fifties. I'd met her briefly in the past, but I'd never been to the dressing rooms before. David explained how he needed me to be in costume as soon as possible, and she didn't seem in the least surprised, taking my hand and leading me to the dressing room where Mary got ready, and telling David we would be about half an hour.

It was a typical dressing room with a broad working surface for make-up etc., in front of the big mirror surrounded by lights.

“Right,” she said. “Now I want you to go behind that folding partition and strip off.”

“Yes, Mrs Arthur, “ I replied and went to do as she said.

“Call me 'Aunty”,” she replied, “Everyone else does.” There was something comforting about that.

I stripped down and called out “Can I leave my underpants on?”

“No you can't,” was the firm reply, “You are playing the part of a young girl, and they don't wear boy's underpants. Here, put these on”

A hand appeared over the top of the partition, holding some flesh-coloured girl's panties. I blushed hotly but took them and stepped into them.

“Alright, you can come out now; I have to fit you with a bra,” she said. I appeared reluctantly, but she smiled and said: “That's much better.”

She was holding a bra that matched the panties I was wearing, and with the benefit of all her years of experience, it was just the right size for me. The only thing that looked odd was the empty cups.

“Chicken fillets!” she said. I wondered if I'd heard her correctly as she turned to a drawer and produced two strange- looking pink objects. Then she slipped one inside each bra cup, and suddenly I had breasts – admittedly small ones, but then I was playing a young teenage girl. She smiled at me. “How's that? Now let's have a look at your legs and armpits.”

She surveyed them critically. “It's a good thing that you have fair hair, but there is a bit of a fuzz on your legs and we don't want the front stalls wondering why you didn't shave them. I'm not worried about your armpits as the dress has long sleeves. What do you think? Shall I shave your legs or will you wear sheer tights to mask the hair?”

“Well, since it's only one performance, maybe tights?” I suggested.

Aunty reached into another drawer and produced a new packet of tights. “Sit down, and I'll show you how to put them on without laddering them.” This she proceeded to do, and I was starting to get the impression that there are a number of tricks to learn in dressing as a girl. Finally, I was handed a pair of short white socks which she trusted me to put on by myself.

I was starting to get the strangest feeling that I was turning into a girl, but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling, it was rather nice – in fact very nice, so when she produced a white full slip with a lace trim at the bust and hem, I didn't protest as she helped me to put it on. Next came a slightly ruched half-petticoat which she told me would make the skirt flare slightly. Finally came the dress which I had seen Mary wear so many times. In fact, Aunty told me there was two of them, so there was always a backup in case of accidents. I carefully stepped into it as Aunty held my hand, then she drew it up over my body, guided my arms into the sleeves and zipped it up. Finally, she produced some 'Mary Jane' shoes with a closed front, a strap over the instep and a low heel, about one inch high.

“How do they feel, comfortable?” she asked.

“They're a little bit tight,” I replied diffidently.

“No problem. Take them off and sit down for a minute,” said Aunty and left the room.

Five minutes later she was back with another pair of shoes. Thank goodness they fitted perfectly. Since then I've come to the conclusion that she has a secret store of almost anything by way of costuming that can be needed for any play.

I previously mentioned that my hair was longer than usual for a boy, and since I left school, I'd let it grow even longer. Now Aunty got me to sit down in front of the mirror and began to brush it out and tied a ribbon in it. Then she got me to face her and put a towel around my neck to protect the dress while she put some makeup on my face, explaining that there would be someone more experienced to do it for the evening performance, but she would do her best for now.

“Rule one of make-up – 'less is more',” she said, advice that I will always remember.

I was glad that unlike some of my schoolmates I had been spared the ravages of acne. Even the hair on my face only needed shaving every few days and as it happened I'd attended to it that morning. Aunty applied a little moisturiser, and a small amount of foundation, saying this was just because it was stage make-up and someone with my skin normally wouldn't need it. This was followed by a little blusher on both cheeks. Finally came some pink lipstick.

“That will do for now, just to help you feel like a girl,” she said. “They'll do a proper stage make-up this evening.”

Obviously she had total confidence that I would be performing, and strangely it seemed to be rubbing off on me too.

When she was finished, she told me to stand up and led me to a full-length mirror to see the transformation. I stood there stunned, gazing at myself. She had transformed me into a teenage girl – dare I say it a pretty teenage girl.

“Well miss,” Aunty said with a smile, no doubt sensing my reaction, “Now you look the part, you can go there and act the part.” With that she took my hand and led me back to the stage. Ross and Emma, now both in costume, and David were standing there talking and they turned as one when we appeared. The look on their faces was something to behold.

David found his voice first. “Thank you, Aunty,” he said “Now we have our Margaret”.

I hardly need tell you that the second run-through was a world away from the first one. Now I was Margaret; Ross was my Daddy and we were in the magical wood. At the end of the scene, David came up onto the stage.

“Well done – both of you, and it will be even better tonight when you have an audience to play to,” he said.

“I'll drink to that.” came a voice behind me, as Emma walked back onto the stage, “You were excellent, both of you.”

I found myself blushing. This was high praise indeed coming from these professionals.

“I'd like you to run through the scene again, just to make sure you are comfortable with it, and then you can relax until this evening,” said David.

After we had completed the scene once more, David said “That was even better. I'll see you this evening.”

He and Ross left the stage and Emma asked if I would like to get a light meal before the evening performance. “I find it helps to boost the energy levels,” she said. “Go and get changed and we'll go to a café down the road.”

I hesitated. “Sis, I hope this doesn't sound weird, but I'd prefer to stay in my costume. I found Margaret when I put it on, and I'm afraid I'll lose her if I change back, and maybe I won't find her again. Do you think David would mind?”

Emma laughed. “Alright, I'll go and ask him. I know there are some actors who prefer to remain in character even when they are not on stage. Maybe you're one of them. I have to change anyway, or they might not let me into the café.” (I should explain that in this part of the play Emma's character was appearing as a homeless woman in dirty clothes.)

She returned ten minutes later, looking much more her normal self. “David says it's alright, so long as you don't get the costume dirty. I've borrowed a coat for you as it's getting chilly outside, and that should keep it clean.”

I hesitated, “Aunty was telling me that my make-up was for the stage, and too much for day wear.”

“Don't worry about it, it's already getting dark outside and no-one will notice. If they do, we'll tell them you're an actress, which is true isn't it?”

I put on the coat and she retrieved hers from the stalls. As we walked past the booth on the way to the stage door, Jim looked up and said “Good evening ladies.”

“Good evening Jim,” we said in unison, and after waiting until we were outside in the street and out of earshot, we fell about laughing.

“I think Jim needs his eyes testing,” I said.

“Well actually no,” said Emma. “You look very convincing as a girl. You've passed your first test.”

Arm in arm we walked down the street, Emma reminding me to take short steps. I could hardly believe the sensual pleasure of being out dressed as a girl; the click of our heels on the pavement, the swish of my skirt and the feel of the slip brushing against my stocking-clad legs, Sensual though it was, I didn't have the physical response that a young male might have had, even though I felt a warm glow throughout my body. I was in total girl mode.

I noticed one or two young men giving us the eye as they walked past. Perhaps that's not so surprising. It seems that most young women nowadays prefer to wear jeans or trousers, so seeing two young women in dresses even if covered by coats, is almost a novelty. I couldn't help thinking to myself how ironic it was that one of those two women wasn't a woman at all!

We reached the café and Emma told me to find a table while she ordered. The only one free was next to the window, but I thought 'What the heck!'. After a few minutes, she returned and said we were having poached eggs on toast and a pot of tea for two.

“It's enough to boost energy levels without making us feel bloated,” she explained.

A few minutes later a young waiter came over with a tray. He was tall and handsome and as he put the plates, cups and teapot on the table I smiled my thanks and he, in turn, smiled back.

Once he left Emma grinned at me “You made your first conquest,” she said.

I blushed and retorted “Don't be silly”, but secretly I was pleased. I couldn't help thinking how different life is for girls.

We enjoyed our meal and I found myself growing in confidence all the time. I was still a bit worried that my voice in ordinary conversation might give me away, but Emma assured me that I was lucky enough to have one of those light tenor voices which would easily be taken as a woman's, dressed as I was.

When we returned to the theatre, Jim was still sitting in his booth and he said to Emma “I'm a bit worried about Harry. Have you seen him?”

“It's alright,” said Emma, “He's already in the theatre.” Strictly speaking, that was true of course. Anyway, it satisfied Jim.

“I've arranged for your clothes to be put in the dressing room I share with Shirley,” said Emma as she led the way. Shirley was already in her costume when we entered the room.

“Shirley, this is Harriet, my sister,” said Emma. I looked at her questioningly.

“Is that alright? It will be easy for you to remember,” she said.

“Hi Harriet,” said Shirley, “It's very nice to meet you.” She obviously knew who I really was, but the whole company was determined that until the end of the evening performance they would refer to me in every way as a girl.

I sat on a chair in the corner as, without a trace of embarrassment, Emma slipped out of her dress and stood there in her underclothes before putting on her costume for Act One. I couldn't imagine for a moment that she would have done that if I had been in Harry mode.

One of the dressers, Georgie, came in and started doing the girls' hair. Since I wasn't required until Act Two, it was logical that they were attended to first. The girls could do their own make-up of course but I would need someone to do it for me.

Once they were finished then it was my turn. Georgie tied my hair up out of the way and wiped away the make-up Aunty had used and started again. She applied moisturiser, followed by a little foundation, saying, like Aunty that someone with my skin wouldn't normally need it while not on stage. She checked my eyebrows and trimmed them slightly, and brushed some mascara onto my eyelashes explaining that would make them look fuller. Next came some eyeliner and some blue eye shadow, then a little blusher and some pink lipstick.

“Stage make-up is a little heavier than a woman or girl would wear normally,” she explained, “since it is seen from a distance and under artificial lighting. It then looks quite normal, whereas everyday make-up would look rather insipid. For everyday wear you'll need to tone it down; 'less is more' you know,” she said.

I nearly opened my mouth to say 'Why did you say that?' but thought better of it. Perhaps she had forgotten for a moment that she wasn't talking to a girl. Instead I thanked her.

“No worries,” she said in a broad Australian accent. “Good luck with the show.”

It's actually bad luck to say that, but perhaps they do things differently 'down under'.

I was already dressed of course, so rather than hang around the dressing room, I walked backstage around to the prompt corner where I found Robin standing. He looked me up and down approvingly and then glanced at his watch.

“Nearly time to start,” he said. “You know we video one performance for reference, well I've arranged with Paul in the sound booth at the back of the stalls to record tonight's performance as well, as a souvenir of your first professional performance.”

“Thank you,” I said, although I couldn't help thinking that I wished he hadn't told me. I was feeling nervous enough already.

Robin said “I have to announce that you are playing Margaret tonight, not Mary as it says in the programme. Have you worked out a name yet?”

“Well Emma has started calling me 'Harriet',” I said.

“Sounds good,” he replied, and picking up the microphone flicked the switch. It sounded strange to hear his voice and then a fraction of a second later, it repeating, booming out in the auditorium.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to the final performance of this season of 'Dear Brutus' by J.M. Barrie. Due to the indisposition of Miss Mary Green, in tonight's performance the part of Margaret will be played by Miss Harriet Stow. May I remind you that photography and recording of the performance is strictly forbidden, and that all mobile telephones must be switched off.”

Robin checked the stage to make sure that everyone was in position and then picked up a telephone handset, pressed a button and said “OK Paul, we're ready here, opening music please.”

As I stood there, I felt my heart starting to pound.

To be continued.

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 3 The Performance

Through the curtain I heard the music fade up. There is a tiny peephole, and I peered through to see that the house was full. I felt my heart-rate increase even though I wasn't due on-stage for about forty minutes.

The first act finished and there was some generous applause as the curtain came down. The stagehands swiftly but silently ran onto the stage to change the set while some of the flats were hoisted into the flies and others descended. I never tire of watching how they act like a well-oiled machine, but I take care not to get in their way. In two minutes everything was ready for Act Two, where I would be appearing in the second half.

Robin said quietly “Break a leg,” the traditional 'good luck' remark in the theatre as I gave a nervous smile and left him, walking around backstage to the OP side upstage where I would be entering at my cue.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to include a brief summary of the play to explain my part. You can find the whole play online if you wish. Written by J.M. Barrie, in some ways it resembles Shakespeare's “A Midsummer Night's Dream”, and basically is a play about second chances and whether they will change us.

A group of people is invited to spend midsummer night's eve at a country mansion called Sinister Warren, by the owner, a gnome-like character Mr Lob. Each has a regret about their life and when in Act Two, they enter a wood which magically appears surrounding the house, they have a chance to change things. A failed and alcoholic painter called Dearth wishes he had had a daughter, and in the wood she – Margaret, my part – appears, and they have a wonderful time together as he paints the moonlit scene before him. The audience knows that she is not real, and so in a way does Dearth, but Margaret herself does not seem to know this.

As I stood in the wings with Ross I'd never felt more nervous in my life. I looked up at him and whispered “Do you ever get nervous before you go on stage Ross?”

“All the time,” he replied. “There would be something wrong if I didn't.”

He took my hand and gave it a squeeze “You'll be fine,” he said.

Suddenly it was my cue, and taking a deep breath, I ran onto the stage to where Dearth's easel was leaning against a tree, calling out “Daddy Daddy I have won.” as he followed behind me.

How can I explain what it is like acting on stage before a full theatre if you have never experienced it? You cannot see the audience of course apart from the first couple of rows, and convention says that you almost always ignore them, but you are certainly aware that they are there and reacting to the scene before them. They seem to generate an energy that you can tap into and use in your performance. Despite our short rehearsal, Ross and I really bounced off each other and the audience laughed at some of our exchanges. A hint of what is to come is when I say “Daddy, what is a might-have-been?” and he replies “A might-have-been? They are ghosts, Margaret.”

Towards the end of the sequence, Dearth encounters his wife whom he does not recognise since she now appears as a homeless woman searching for food. He resolves to return to the house to find her some, and Margaret suddenly frightened, tries to stop him leaving her but he insists, saying he'll be back before she can count to a hundred.

I stood in the centre of the stage as Ross walked off singing a song. The theatre was deathly quiet as if the audience was collectively holding its breath. I started to count out loud, my voice shaking, but the wood was growing darker and I began to feel afraid. Abandoning my counting I began to run from tree to tree calling out for him. Tears started to roll down my cheeks as I cried out in agony my final line “Daddy come back, I don't want to be a might-have-been.” and with that, I ran off stage half-blinded by tears and fortunately David was there and caught me in his arms. He held me as my body shook, stroking my hair and say “There, there, it's alright. You were wonderful” Then he looked up and said, “Do you hear that?” I raised my head to listen and it seemed to me that I heard the sound of thunder.

“It's applause,” he said, “They're applauding you.”

The curtain had come down at the end of Act Two. David was of course very generous in his comment. The audience was really applauding all the cast, but it is fair to say that some of it was for me.

David handed me a handkerchief and I dabbed at my eyes.

“I'm sorry, David,” I said, “You must think me very stupid to get so worked up.”

“Not at all,” he replied.”Don't tell anyone I said so, but that was the best performance of Margaret that I've ever seen.”

A few minutes later Act Three began, where all the characters, except me of course, returned to the house and their original lives, but some like Dearth are changed by their experiences in the wood, and it's implied that he will overcome his alcoholism, although towards the end he is shattered to realise he has lost his daughter. Other characters are not changed at all, hence the Shakespeare quotation from which the title is taken. "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves."

I waited off-stage as the final act played out. Fortunately it is not very long. Other cast members and even the
stagehands were coming up to me and whispering 'Well done” and other compliments. You may think I would have developed a swelled head, but to be honest my main feelings were relief that I had performed as well as everyone had expected of me and not let the company down, and there was also a tinge of sadness that before long it would all be over and I would return to being plain old Harry once more.

As the curtain fell for the final time, we arranged ourselves for our curtain calls. When my turn came I walked on-stage with Ross who had played my father, holding his right hand, and Emma as his wife, walked on from the other side and took my right hand. We took our bows to thunderous applause, and then Emma and Ross very generously stepped aside and I took a bow on my own. The applause if anything seemed to grow louder, and now the house lights were half up, and I saw her – my mother in the third row clapping like mad, and as I smiled at her I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. I stepped to the side of the stage as the other cast members came on to take their bows. Finally we all joined hands in a line across the stage and I saw that the audience was now standing as they clapped, Mum amongst them.

The curtain came down and rose again and still they clapped. David gestured from the wings and we each individually took a bow, and then joined hands once more. Some of the stage staff came on and gave a bouquet of flowers to each of the women, including me. Then David walked onto the stage and the applause finally ceased.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is David Soames and I had the honour of directing this talented company in the final production for this year. While everyone played their roles to the high standard you have come to expect, I'm sure they will not mind if I make particular mention of Miss Harriet Stow who stepped in to play the role of Margaret at very short notice when our original cast member Mary Green became indisposed”

Believe it or not, the audience began to clap again! David had to hold up his hand to get silence.

“We thank you so much for your support this year and look forward to entertaining you with a new programme, starting next February. In the meantime, don't forget that the Regal Players will be performing their annual pantomime starting on Boxing Day. This year it's 'Puss in Boots', an old favourite and I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

We all stepped back to more applause and the curtain came down for the final time as the house lights came up. I felt rather sad, knowing that I now had to give up Margaret. Emma took me by the arm to walk back to the dressing room.

“Well, what do you think of acting now?” she said. “All that applause and you get paid for it too!”

We were just about to leave the stage when David called me back. Behind him was a young man carrying a camera.

“The local paper is going to write an article about the end of our season and they want a picture of you and Ross in the wood,” he said.

Two of the stagehands brought out a few of the trees and the easel and chair, and the photographer arranged us with Ross sitting at the easel and me standing behind him with my hand on his shoulder appearing to look at the painting. The photographer took a few shots, slightly altering the pose each time and then said he had enough.

“Thank you sir, thank you miss,” he said politely.

When he was out of earshot, Ross said “Well miss, time for us to get changed.”

Emma had waited for me, and when we arrived back in the dressing room she and Shirley got changed and then Emma helped me by removing my make-up and unzipping my dress, pointing out where my own clothes lay on a chair in the corner. They both left, Emma saying she would wait outside for me. I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness as I stepped out of my dress and slowly removed my shoes, tights and underclothes. I reluctantly dressed in my own clothes, and then with a final look around the room, walked outside.

Emma was waiting for me, saying “Come on slow-coach, we've got the end of run party to go to.”

I never felt less like a party in my life, but I did my best to pull myself together. We walked together to the hall at the back of the theatre which is sometimes used for rehearsals. Tables had been set up with food and drink and we were greeted by the other cast members who were already there. I felt strangely out of place. All the others looked the same apart from their stage clothes, but I was now a young man instead of a girl. The other cast members were generous in their praise of my performance but it almost seemed like they were talking about someone else. Then someone started up the CD player and there was some dancing. To my surprise, Robin entered with my mother, saying he had found her outside. She rushed up to me and hugged me.

"Darling, you were wonderful!" she said. "I'm so proud of you."

Robin said "Mrs Stow, you have a very talented son." and I suddenly thought to myself 'But I don't want to be her son, I want to be her daughter.'

Mother is the person who knows me best in all the world and she could tell I wasn't myself. She probably thought I was coming down from the high of all the applause and excitement, and she was partly right, but only partly. Anyway, we left the party after an hour as I was dog tired, and David kindly ordered a taxi for us. Ten minutes after we arrived home I was in bed and probably asleep five minutes later. I don't know what time Emma arrived home, but then she's old enough to look after herself.

It was about nine o'clock the next morning when we got up. My head was pounding, and I thought that this must be what a hangover feels like, even though I'd only had a small glass of champagne, so I took a couple of paracetamol tablets. We were in the kitchen having a late breakfast when the phone rang. Emma answered it and came back after a couple of minutes with a puzzled look on her face.

“It was David on the phone. He asked if he could come around to discuss something with us. He says it's urgent and important, so I said he could come around in half an hour.”

To be continued.

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 4 Afternoon tea

David was as good as his word. We'd had time to tidy up, and we invited him into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. This time he accepted which I took as a good sign.

As Mum made the coffee she said to him “Those are lovely flowers, David.”

“Thank you. It's an Apollo end of season tradition. We give a gift to the men; this year it's a leather wallet, and all the ladies get a bouquet. Mary will get one too when she is well enough to enjoy it.” Turning to me he said “I hope you didn't mind getting a bouquet Harry, it was the logical thing to do in the circumstances but I can get you a wallet if you wish.”

“No that's fine David, the flowers are really nice and we have two bouquets to enjoy,” I replied. I thought to myself 'This is the first time I've ever been given flowers. That's something I'll never forget.'

Once we were all sitting around the table with our drinks and a plate of biscuits, we looked expectantly at him.

“How are you both feeling today?” David asked.

“Well you know how it is,” replied Emma “The morning after a run ends is always a bit of a downer after the high of performing.”

I nodded in agreement, even though I was thinking that I had more reason to miss it, having only had the one chance to perform.

“ I have some news for you,” he continued. “Last night we had a VIP in the audience. You know Sir Edgar Blakely of course?” He looked at us expectantly and both Mother and Emma nodded but he could see that I wasn't sure.

“He's a well-known impresario and runs a number of theatres around the country. Well, yesterday he was in Bridchester visiting his old mother who's in a nursing home here, and he happened to see one of our advertisements. He rang the theatre and asked if he could book a seat. As you know we had the 'house full' signs up, but when someone like Sir Edgar rings up, you can always find them a seat; in fact we put him in the Royal Box with our special guests, the mayor and his wife. I was a bit concerned they would be put out, but in fact they were rather flattered to be in the company of a knight of the realm. I made sure they had a photo taken with him for the local paper, and of course he is known to be quite a charmer.”

“Naturally, I went up to see him after the final curtain and my speech, and he said he was very impressed with our production. Now comes the interesting part. He has two West End theatres, but also a smaller four hundred seater in London's northern suburbs. A production was due to open there on Boxing Day, but it's fallen through. He hates to have a theatre in darkness during the holiday season, so he asked me if we would be interested in staging 'Brutus' there for a four-week season.

“I told him I was sure we would, but I'd have to check with the cast and get back to him. He said he needed an answer by tonight as he would have to start organising the staging, arranging the publicity etc. There was one more thing. He said he understood that the girl who played Margaret wasn't the usual cast member but he wanted her because it was the best interpretation of the role he'd ever seen. When I explained that you had stepped in with less than a day's notice Harry, he was even more impressed.”

I was quite shocked to hear this praise from someone who was obviously a 'big wig' in theatre circles.

“So that's why I'm here,” said David, “to ask you both if you are willing to perform in London?”

“But does he know about me?” I asked.

“Not yet,” admitted David, “I'd like him to be convinced that you can act like a girl both on and off the stage before I tell him, and the next thing he said gave me the perfect opportunity. He said he would like to meet a couple of the cast members for 'Afternoon Tea' today at the Queen's Hotel where he is staying.”

I had heard that our local top hotel had copied the famed (and very expensive) Afternoon Teas held at such places as the Dorchester and Savoy in London, but I never expected to attend one.

“Sir Edgar is well-known to have an eye for a pretty face, so I'm wondering if you Emma, and you Harry, as Harriet of course, are willing to meet him; that is of course if you are willing to do the show.”

I had no doubt what Emma's answer would be, so once again it came down to me making a decision that affected the whole company. I could hardly say 'no', especially as it seemed I would have to spend the whole time in London in girl mode. I could hardly believe this was happening so soon after I had regretfully said 'goodbye' to Margaret in my mind.

“Well, since it means so much to the whole cast, of course I agree to do it,” I said, hoping that it appeared I had to overcome some internal reluctance. “I just hope he doesn't see through me. That will be very embarrassing for us all.”

“I'm prepared to take that risk,” said David, “Although I don't think it's a risk at all.”

He left then, promising to be back to pick us up at half-past two. As soon as he had left, Emma said “Right. There's not a moment to lose. Come up to my bedroom Harry.”

” Not a moment to lose? I thought “But we've got nearly four hours."

I mention this to show how naïve I was at the time. Nevertheless, I got up and followed Emma to her bedroom, a forbidden zone that I had only ever entered a few times in my life.

“Right. We have to make the first decision which is something boys almost never think about. Do you know what that is?”

“What to wear?” I ventured.

“Excellent. We'll make a girl out of you yet,” she said with a smile. She turned to a chest of drawers and pulled out some white panties and a bra and threw them on the bed. They were followed by a pair of black patterned tights.

“I'll leave you for five minutes to get undressed and put those on,” she said, and then suddenly had a thought. “Aunty didn't shave your legs and underarms did she?”

“No,” I admitted. “She said no-one would see my underarms and the tights would mask my leg hair which is fair anyway.”

“Well, she was right for last night, but this is different,” said Emma. “Put on the panties and this robe, and meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.”

I did as she asked and walked down the corridor to the bathroom. There she shaved my underarms, chest and legs for me. When she had finished she said, “How do your legs feel?”

“Fine,” I said, while thinking as I ran my hands up and down them that they felt wonderfully silky and smooth.

“Alright, back to the bedroom and put on the tights and bra.”

I did as she said but then saw a problem with the bra.

“What about the cups?” I said. “Aunty put some things she called 'chicken fillets' in them.”

Emma grinned and turning to the dressing table, reached into a drawer.

“Voila!” she said, holding them up.

“But you've already got breasts,” I said. “Why do you need them?”

“Depending on what you are wearing, sometimes a girl needs a little boost.” She handed them to me and I slipped them into the cups and once again I had breasts.

“Now sit in front of the dressing table mirror. We have to attend to your hair and make-up. First, let me have a look at your nails.”

I held out a hand and she took it and sighed. “These are no good at all. No girl would be seen dead with nails like that. It's lucky I bought some false nails for myself last week; I'll have to use them on you and replace them later. We'll do them first so they have time to dry.”

She got me to soak my hands in warm soapy water for five minutes and then trimmed my nails with scissors and a nail file and pushed the cuticles back. Then she buffed my nails to make the surface slightly rough so that the false nails would adhere properly. She took the false nails out of their packet and arranged them in order, and one by one she put a dab of glue on my fingernail and the corresponding false nail and placed them in position, holding them for ten seconds to make sure they adhered properly. Emma decided they didn't need filing, so she finished off by painting a layer of clear varnish on them. I could hardly believe the difference it made to my hands. They were always fairly slender with elongated fingers, but now they suddenly looked very feminine.

“It's details like that that make all the difference to how a girl looks,” said Emma with a smile. “You know Georgie the Australian girl who acts part-time as a dresser at the theatre? She was telling me how the Aboriginal women have what they call 'secret women's business', rites that men aren't allowed to see. Well, we have our own 'secret women's business' too that men don't know about. They always wonder why it takes us so long to get ready to go out. Now you are seeing why that is. Men just have a shower, dress and run a comb through their hair and they're ready. For women it's a much more complicated business, but it's also a lot more fun.”

I smiled at her. Emma and I had always got on really well, but now that I was effectively becoming her sister, it seemed we were closer than we'd ever been.

“Now for the make-up,” she said. “I must explain that make-up varies on the time of day and what you are doing. You wouldn't wear evening make-up to go shopping as it's much too dramatic. For today, we need something between every-day make-up and what we'd wear for a night out. This is a special occasion, going to a posh hotel and meeting an important person.”

She set to work, applying moisturiser, foundation and blusher, and then applied eye makeup and mascara, not unlike what I had been wearing at the theatre, but a bit toned down. Finally, she chose a soft pink lipstick, suitable for a teenage girl.

“Now, how does that look?” she said.

I swiveled around in my chair, looked at myself in the mirror and caught my breath. Harry had gone and Harriet was back.

“I've been thinking what dress you should put on,” said Emma. “I have a couple that I've outgrown but I think would be perfect for you. Stand up and we'll hold them against you and you can decide.”

She went to the wardrobe and removed two dresses on their hangers and laid them on the bed. In turn, she held them up in front of me as I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

“Well? What do you think?”

“They're both so pretty, it's hard to decide,” I replied, “But I think the deep blue satin one with the puffed sleeves looks really nice for today. What do you think?”

“That's a good choice,” said Emma. “I thought that one too, but I wanted to give you a chance to make up your own mind.”

I smiled at that. It seemed I might be getting an eye for what suited me. Emma helped me to put it on and zipped it up the back. Then she went back to the wardrobe and picked up a pair of black court shoes with three-inch heels.

“How do you think you'll go in these?” she asked

“I'll give them a try,” I replied as I sat down again and slipped them on. Heels definitely take some getting used to, but they do wonders for a woman's legs.

“Now for some jewelry. I think a pearl necklace would go really well. They're cultured pearls of course. Mum gave them to me for my twenty-first birthday.”

I had often admired them on Emma and to think that today I would be wearing them was really special.

“One final touch, earrings,” said Emma. “Your ears aren't pierced yet of course, but I still have a couple of pairs of clip-ons.”

She sorted through her jewelry box and came up with a small round pair of pearl earrings that matched the necklace.

“When your ears are pierced then you can wear pendants, but for now these are safer and less likely to fall off.”

She fastened them in place, and then produced a clutch handbag for me to carry.

“I'm putting a powder compact and the lipstick in your bag, and if your make-up needs touching up, then we'll both go to the Ladies together and I can do it for you. Now, have a look at yourself in the mirror.”

I did as she asked. It's hard to describe how I felt. There was a pretty teenage girl looking back at me, and it felt wonderful.

I stared so long that Emma laughed and said “Alright Miss Narcissus. Now you go downstairs, taking it carefully, and get some practice walking in heels while I get ready. I can't have my younger sister upstaging me!”

Mother was sitting on the couch sewing when I made my entrance. In retrospect, I think that she realised at that moment that she mightn't have a son anymore.

“Why Harriet, you look so pretty!” she exclaimed.

I blushed and replied that it was all due to Emma's handiwork. Then I set about walking around in the heels, getting used to having my centre of gravity changed.

Emma came downstairs after about twenty minutes, with just a few minutes to spare before David was due to arrive. I must say that she looked gorgeous and I told her so.

“Well,” said Mum, “I have two very beautiful daughters today.”

The doorbell rang and Mum answered it to let David in. He was suitably impressed and complimentary when he saw both of us standing there.

It was a cool dry day, but we took coats along just in case of rain as we didn't want our dresses spoilt. David helped us into his Jaguar, opening the door for each of us in turn. Emma had shown me how to enter a car in a ladylike manner, bottom on the seat first, grasping my skirt and holding my legs together as I swiveled them into the car.

We drove down to the hotel, and David dropped us off at the door while he found somewhere to park. A few minutes later he was back and led us into the foyer where we were directed to the dining room.

“There they are, by the window,” he murmured quietly to us as we walked across the dining room.

Duncan was sitting with an elderly gentleman with white hair and beard, and wearing a dark suit. They both rose to greet us.

'He looks like Colonel Sanders,' I thought to myself and smiled.

“Sir Edgar, may I introduce Emma and Harriet Stow,” said Duncan.

“Welcome, my dears; what charming traditional English names you have,” Sir Edgar said. I half expected him to kiss our hands.

'He's playing a part too,' I thought to myself, reminded of that famous quote from Shakespeare 'All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players,' Suddenly the nerves had gone and I started to relax, as Duncan and David helped us into our chairs.

“First of all I must congratulate you both on your performances last night,” he said. “As you can imagine, I get to see many household names on stage, but I can tell you that I've never seen 'Brutus' better performed. As for you young lady,” he said turning to me, “Duncan told me that you are the assistant stage manager and stepped into the role at a day's notice. I find that truly astonishing.”

“Thank you, Sir Edgar,” I replied. “I knew the part and there was no-one else to take it on, so I did my best.”

“Ah yes, 'the show must go on'. That's a very laudable sentiment, and your best was very good indeed.”

I blushed in response but was secretly very pleased.

At this point, the waiter appeared with trays of tiny sandwiches cut into triangles with the crusts removed, and a mixture of mouth-watering cakes on a silver stand. We were asked what was our choice of tea, and I chose Earl Grey, which I don't particularly like, but it seemed more upmarket than English Breakfast which we usually have at home. The waiter poured the first cups and left the silver teapot and milk for us to refill if required. Once he had left, Sir Edgar spoke again.

“I'm sure that Duncan has told you about my proposal to stage 'Brutus' down at my Mercury Theatre in London? It's not the West End of course, but not too far out, at Finsbury Park. I take it that because you are here the cast has agreed to perform it?”

“Yes indeed, Sir Edgar,” said David, “They are all very keen to reprise their roles.”

“Excellent!” he replied and turned to me. “I hope the young woman who was playing the part of Margaret is not too upset, but your interpretation was the best I have ever seen, my dear, and I simply have to have you.”

I couldn't help wondering if there was another interpretation of that remark. Hopefully, he wasn't into boys, and when he found out the truth about me that would change his attitude. Nevertheless, I was determined to quiz Emma about Sir Edgar when I got the chance. He was definitely a 'ladies man'.

Duncan now offered us the plate of sandwiches and I realised for the first time a slight disadvantage in being a girl. As Harry I would doubtless have wolfed down such delicacies, but as Harriet, I took my lead from Emma and restricted myself to three bite-size morsels, followed later by a single cake. It seemed such a shame to leave so many of them, and I warmed to Sir Edgar when he later suggested that the remaining cakes be placed in a box and taken home to share with our mother.

“The season will have to start on Boxing Day of course,” said Sir Edgar. “I hope that doesn't present any problems for the cast?”

“Of course not,” we reassured him, although I was thinking that we couldn't leave Mum at home to celebrate Christmas by herself.

“There's a comfortable three-star hotel within walking distance of the theatre, and I will book rooms for the cast as soon as you let me know how many are needed,” Sir Edgar continued. “You can liaise with my secretary Louise about that. We have our own stage staff of course, and I suspect our stage is bigger than the one here, so we'll organise the scenery.”

Emma said, “Sir Edgar, our mother is a widow and we always spend Christmas with her. Do you think Louise could organise a room for her for a few days over Christmas – at our expense of course?”

“Naturally,” he replied, “And don't worry about the extra cost. Just ring Louise and she will arrange everything.”

Sir Edgar kept going up in my estimation. The conversation then drifted on to other theatrical shows with which he was involved, and some famous names were dropped.

We passed a very pleasant hour until finally, he said. “Well my dears, it's been very nice to meet you and I look forward to seeing you again in London. But now it's time for me to discuss business matters with Duncan and David, things you don't need to bother your pretty heads about.”

It was clear that this was a signal for us to take our leave, so we both stood up and thanked him for a lovely afternoon before leaving the restaurant. On our way out, one of the waiters stepped forward with a box and said: “Excuse me miss, Sir Edgar said to give these to you.” Bless him, he hadn't forgotten about the cakes.

“Did he really say that about 'pretty heads'?” I said to Emma as we waited in the foyer for a taxi to take us home.

“I'm afraid he did,” said Emma, and then in a whisper, “He thinks he's living in the nineteen fifties.”

We both had a fit of the giggles.

When we arrived home, Mum asked us how the meeting had gone.

“Very well,” said Emma. “He had no idea about Harry, and we were even told not to bother our pretty heads about the business talk he was about to have with Duncan and David.”

“Really?” said Mum. “What century does he think he's living in?”

“My sentiments entirely,” said Emma and we all had a good laugh. I must say though that the cakes were delicious.

Later that day David rang and Emma answered the phone. After a few minutes, she came back looking pleased and said “It's all arranged. He'd like a word with you, Harry.”

By now I was back in my boy clothes and was anxious to know how Sir Edgar had responded to the news that his ingénue was not all that she seemed.

“Hi David, how did Sir Edgar respond to your news about me?” I asked.

“To be honest I thought for a moment I'd blown it,” admitted David. “Then he began to laugh and said 'Well you had me fooled'. 'We had no intention of fooling you, Sir Edgar,' I replied. 'We merely wanted to demonstrate that our cast member can easily pass as a girl both on and off stage'.”

“Good thinking on your part,” he replied. “I don't want any of those wretched London tabloids splashing a headline that I'm running a drag show or a pantomime.”

(For those who are not familiar with traditional British pantomimes, cross-dressing is a long tradition. The 'Dame' or older woman is played by a man, and the Principal Boy or hero is played by a young woman, but the audience as always well aware of their real sex.)

“So he's o.k. about it then?”

“With one proviso. From the moment you step on that train to London, to the moment you step off it again at home, you must be in girl mode twenty-four hours a day - understood?”

“Yes David, it's a deal.” Secretly, there was a song in my heart.

The next day there was another review of the play in the local newspaper, accompanied by a picture of Ross and me, and some very complimentary remarks about how I had 'saved the day' for the company. Mum told me that I had better start a scrapbook to hold my reviews, and the following day she bought one for me.

Four days after her surgery, I rang the hospital to see if I could visit Mary. I wasn't looking forward to it. How do you tell someone that you have just taken a role that by rights should be theirs? Nevertheless, I felt I had to do it and I was running out of time before I had to become Harriet, and I certainly couldn't go to the hospital dressed like that. It would be rubbing salt into wounds.

I was given permission for a short visit after I explained who I was, so I bought a posy of flowers and arrived at the ward, my heart-rate rather faster than normal. Fortunately, in view of what I had to tell her, Mary was in a private room on her own. She was slightly propped up in the bed and looking quite pale. I noticed a bouquet of flowers similar to the ones we had received in a vase by the window.

“Why Harry, how nice of you to come and see me,” she said, and sounded quite genuine about it.

“Hello Mary, how are you feeling?”

“Much better than I was. I owe you an apology for lying about visiting the doctor. I thought if I could only make it to the last night then I could see someone then, but as you know it wasn't to be.”

“Mary, I have something to tell you,” I began.

“It's alright Harry, David has been in to see me and explained how you took over at a few hours notice. I already knew because your picture was in the paper and I couldn't believe how well you made up as a girl.”

“Well, there are some talented people in the make-up department as you know, but there's something else I have to tell you.”

“About the London season? David explained that too.” I was beginning to think that I needn't have worried so much about coming to see her.

“I'm really sorry,” I said, and for a moment I meant it. “You should have that part but Sir Edgar was insistent that I do it. David seemed to think that if I didn't, then he would not book the company. I wish there was something I could do.”

Mary managed a smile. “Well unless you can arrange to have appendicitis....”

“Sorry, I had my appendix out when I was ten,” I replied, and we both managed a laugh over that.

“It's alright, I'm not jealous – well maybe just a little bit. David has promised me a great part in the first production next year. I guess it's a consolation prize.”

“David wouldn't give you the part unless he was sure you are the perfect person to play it,” I replied.

A nurse popped her head around the door and said: “Five minutes please.”

“They told me it had to be a short visit,” I explained. “You need rest to recover. Oh, by the way, I'm sure David mentioned that no-one must know about the real me. In fact, I have to be in girl mode for the whole time I'm in London.”

“Do you mind that?” she said.

I could feel myself blushing as I replied “Well, it is kind of fun, pretending to be someone else. It's almost like being on stage but twenty-four seven. Anyway, I had better go before they send Security to throw me out.”

I bent over the bed and kissed her on the cheek.

“Break a leg,” she said. I hoped she didn't mean it literally!

To be continued.

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 5 The London season.

At a meeting of the cast at the theatre rehearsal room, Duncan told us that we were booked in the London hotel from the eighteenth of December. He mentioned how I would be in girl mode all the time we were in London and that everyone must call me Harriet. They all murmured their agreement. Later he told Emma and me that Mum had been booked into a room at the hotel from the twenty-second to the twenty-eighth. Sir Edgar had been as good as his word.

Back home, Emma was busy sorting out clothes for me to wear.

“I'm going to buy you four sets of your own underwear and some tights,” she said, “I've got enough suitable clothes for you to wear, so we don't have to buy anything else.”

“You must let me pay for them,” I said. "I'm getting more money now."

David had told me that for the whole season, and that included the last night at Bridchester, I would receive the same pay as the rest of the cast. As a repertory company, all the actors were paid the same amount, and it was more than I had been receiving as assistant stage manager. What's more, he had managed to negotiate with Sir Edgar that we would all be getting a special 'London allowance' on top of our usual pay to offset the increased cost of living. Nevertheless, this was not a time to start throwing money around on clothes, as we had little enough to spare at home.

Emma had started to sort out things for me to take and called me into her bedroom where she had clothes laid out on the bed. There were several dresses including the blue satin one I had so much enjoyed wearing to the afternoon tea with Sir Edgar, some skirts and tops and also two pairs of jeans and some trousers.

She saw me looking doubtfully at them and said. “I know you'd prefer to wear skirts, but it's getting really cold now, so trousers with tights underneath will really help to keep your legs warm. Besides, so many young women wear jeans, jeggings or trousers nowadays that you will blend in with them, and that's what we want. Don't worry, you will still look like a girl, but you won't stand out.”

I could see the sense in what she was saying. By not rating a second glance when out in the streets, I further lowered the chance of anyone suspecting that I wasn't a girl.

It was the day before we were due to board the train for London and we were having a special 'Christmas' dinner at home, as this was the last time we'd be together until Mum arrived in London on the twenty-second. We had chicken with roast vegetables and a small Christmas pudding with custard. We were enjoying a small glass of port in front of the fire when Mum excused herself and came back with a package wrapped in Christmas paper and pink ribbon.

“This is a present from Emma and me,” she said. “I know it's early, but now is the time to give it to you.”

Puzzled, I took the package and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a pink cardboard box which had 'Venus' in fancy script printed on it. When I opened it, I stared at the contents in shock. Nestled in tissue paper were two breast forms.

“Oh Mum, Emma,” I said, and started to tear up. Ironically, I had looked up breast forms on the internet, but they were far too expensive to consider buying myself.

“Now I know you're going to say something about the cost,” said Mum, “But I happen to know a lady who works for a company which sells them. Don't worry, I didn't explain who they were for and she didn't ask, but she let me have them for the wholesale price.”

I got up and hugged her and Emma.

“Thank you so much,” I said, “They will be so much more convincing than the chicken fillets.”

'And make me feel more like a girl all the time' I thought.

“Why don't you and Emma go upstairs so that you can put them on and show me how they look?” said Mum. Not for the first time I thought how lucky I was to have a mother who had so readily accepted the thought of her son becoming a girl for a month. Most mums would have totally freaked out.

Emma and I went up to my bedroom and I took off my top. I had already shaved my chest in anticipation of the trip, and I didn't have much hair anyway, so she told me to lie on my bed so that she could work out exactly where the breast forms should go and mark the positions with a make-up pencil. Some adhesive had been provided with the forms. During my research, I had read that the forms could stay in position for a week or so at a time and then removed for a while to allow my skin to breath.

Emma added the adhesive to each form in turn and also my skin and carefully placed them in position. I stayed lying down for ten minutes to allow the adhesive to set, then gingerly got up. The weight on my chest was a strange feeling and I instinctively held each breast in my hands, afraid they would fall off, but they held firm. Emma then put on my bra and adjusted the shoulder straps.

"How does that feel?” she asked.

“A little strange, but much better,” I replied.

Emma laughed. “Well mine starting growing when I was about thirteen so I grew used to them as they got bigger, but I guess to suddenly have breasts must be a strange feeling.”

'A strange feeling but very nice' I thought to myself as I looked down at my chest.

“Now put a top on and go and show Mum,” she suggested, so that's what I did. As I ran down the stairs I could feel them bouncing slightly and realised why girls wear bras.

“Goodness me, you look very nice,” said Mum. “No-one could tell that they aren't real. After all, women who have had a mastectomy wear them too since breasts are such a mark of femininity.”

That evening we made sure that our cases were packed and that we hadn't forgotten anything. Going to bed, I took the bra off and felt the additional weight of the breasts as I slipped on a nightie.

“Should I lie on my back to sleep?” I asked Emma.

“Perhaps you should until you get used to the breasts, but after that you can lie on your side,” she replied.

The next morning after a slightly tearful farewell with Mum, Emma and I took a taxi to the railway station. At her suggestion I was wearing smart blue trousers with tights underneath, black ankle boots, courtesy of Emma, a cotton top, a nice warm coat, and a woollen hat to insulate me from the weather. Emma was similarly dressed. Getting onto the train felt like the start of an adventure. I had only been to London once before and that was when I was about eleven.

We had to change trains at Doncaster and finally rolled into Kings Cross Station in the mid-afternoon. Emma had given me some warnings as a 'newbie' from the provinces.

“Stations are notorious for pick-pockets and bag snatchers,” she said. “They can tell someone like us a mile off, and probably think we're holiday-makers. Put your bag around your neck and make sure it's zipped up. Keep a hand on it at all times. Never leave your suitcase unattended even for a moment.”

I took her advice seriously. Emma might be only four years older than me, but in my eyes she was a 'woman of the world', having been down to London several times. In fact, we managed to negotiate the crowds without incident and after purchasing an Oyster Card each, found our way to the underground station, or the 'tube' as Londoners call it, and took the Victoria Line to Finsbury Park.

It was my first experience of travel on an underground train and I looked curiously at the other passengers who determinedly ignored everyone around them, burying their faces in newspapers or the mobile phones everyone carries with them nowadays. Being mid-afternoon the carriages weren't full, which was just as well as we both had a large suitcase to maneuver.

At Finsbury Park we alighted, and back at ground level again, found a taxi rank and got into one of the famous black London cabs. Emma told the driver the name of our hotel, and also asked him to drive past the Mercury Theatre on the way so we could get our bearings.

“There's nothing on there at the moment, miss,” he said, possibly thinking we wanted to book seats.

“We know,” said Emma.

A few minutes later he slowed the cab outside the theatre, which looked like a very nice modern building. We were pleased to see lights on around the awning, and also on the large frames holding posters advertising 'Brutus'. Up until now it had almost seemed like a dream to me, but this confirmed it was really happening.

“Look Emma, there's our names,” I said excitedly. The cab driver was interested.

“Are you ladies actresses?” he enquired.

“Yes we are,” said Emma. “This is where we'll be performing from Boxing Day.”

Of course he wanted to know our names and naturally, he'd never heard of us.

“I've 'ad a few famous actors and actresses sitting where you are now,” he said, and rattled off some very famous names indeed.

“Well, maybe one day we'll be famous too,” said Emma.

“Good luck,” said the cabbie as he drew up outside our hotel which was only about a block away.”Me name's Tom. Here's me card. Call me any time you need a ride.”

The fare was nine pounds and ten pence but Emma gave him a ten-pound note and told him to keep the change. He thanked her and drove off.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“They expect a tip,” she explained. “Anyway, he'll tell some of his other customers about the play. More 'bums on seats' you know.”

Indeed there was a lot I didn't know.

After signing in at the reception desk, we were shown up to our room which had two single beds.

“I guess it will do,” said Emma after the porter had gone, pocketing a one pound tip. I said nothing but began to think that living in London was going to be very expensive.

“I think it's quite nice,” I said and she responded, “Tell me that in four week's time.”

We were up early the next morning, had a shower and got dressed. I would have preferred to wear a dress but it was chilly according to the forecast on the television, so I wore jeans instead, and again wore tights under them. We went downstairs for breakfast and appeared at the theatre at ten o'clock for orientation. Duncan and David were already there, plus Des, the theatre's stage manager. All the cast had arrived, so we were shown around the theatre, including the dressing rooms, emergency exits, fire extinguishers and hoses, which I sincerely hoped we would never have to use. As usual, several of us were allocated to one dressing room, and in my case it was with Emma and Shirley again. We then gathered on the stage which was bigger than the one in the Bridchester theatre, so we would require some re-blocking of our movements. I was pleased to see that a number of the flats were already in position, so the backstage staff must have been busy at work. Both Aunty and Georgie had been brought down from Bridchester as David felt we would be more comfortable getting ready with people we knew.

We were given the rest of the day off, but told to appear at ten o'clock sharp the next day for rehearsals. Emma suggested we check out the local shops, so we spent a pleasant afternoon wandering around Finsbury Park and window shopping. Previously I had only clothes shopped reluctantly when there was something I really needed, but I now realised why girls enjoy shopping so much; there was so much variety, and the sales assistants seem to expect you to try many things on and then maybe not buy anything at all.

I had been reading up on transgender issues on our laptop computer at home and we had brought it along with us. One thing that did concern me was being 'read' as a non-genetic female and therefore a transvestite in most people's eyes, and I had learned from reading the experiences of other people like me that young women were the most likely to spot a 'tranny' as they called them.

As we walked along the road between shops, at one point three teenage girls walked towards and passed us, and I was alarmed to hear them break out into fits of giggles.

“Don't look round,” said Emma in a fierce whisper, and by a super-human effort, I did as she said.

“Do you think they knew about me?” I said in a strained voice.

“Probably not. Girls in a group giggle all the time, it could have been about anything,” she replied. She might have been right but it shook my self-confidence.

When we returned to the hotel, I was still worrying about the girls. What if they really had seen through me? Soon I was going to be acting the part of a girl and effectively proclaiming to the world that I was a girl. If anyone had the slightest inkling that I wasn't what I seemed, I could be booed off the stage and what's more, the whole production might collapse.

I sat on the bed and felt thoroughly miserable. A single tear coursed down my cheek and dripped onto my jeans. Emma, who had been going through her clothes turned and saw me. Bless her, she knew immediately what was wrong, and came and sat on the bed and put her arm around me.

“You mustn't worry; you look totally convincing as a girl and you've learned to act exactly as a girl acts. You are a really good actor, and don't you forget it.”

I turned and hugged her. “Thank you, Emma, you're the best sister anyone could have,” I said, “ I don't know what I would have done without you.”

Emma smiled. “I could say the same thing about you,” she replied. “Now dry those eyes or you'll ruin your make-up.”

I managed a smile as I dabbed away at my eyes with a tissue.

A few days later, in between rehearsals, Emma insisted we go shopping again. I'm sure it wasn't so much with the intention of buying anything but restoring my self-confidence. Before we left the hotel, she gave me a pep talk.

“Remember that girls look at each other all the time, mainly to check out the fashions everyone is wearing. I don't think boys ever do that. So don't worry if girls look at you, that's all they are doing.”

Emma is so wise. We went out and even though we sometimes passed teenage girls in couples or small groups, I never heard any giggling again, so it must have been a 'one-off' and nothing to do with me.

Rehearsals went well for the next few days and then it was time to meet Mum who was coming down by train. David had agreed that Emma and I would rehearse in the morning and have the afternoon off. I wanted to look nice for Mum but also keep warm, so I wore a tartan skirt over some opaque black tights and boots, a woollen top and a woollen beanie to keep warm. Emma said I should be wearing a Tam O'Shanter to look like a real Scots lassie!

We arrived down at the railway station in good time and watched out for Mum. By now I was getting used to the crowds of people in London. Then suddenly there she was, pulling along her suitcase so we ran up to her and there were hugs and kisses all round. We had kept in touch with her by frequent phone calls of course, but it was great to see her again. I took charge of the suitcase, and she was told to put her bag around her neck, although now she had two escorts we didn't anticipate any problems. We went down to the tube and this time took the Piccadilly Line out to Finsbury Park.

It was late afternoon and the carriages were already starting to fill up. Emma and I sat side by side, while Mum sat opposite us. At Caledonian Road, a smart-looking older lady entered the carriage and after a moment's hesitation sat down next to Mum. As I've previously mentioned, Londoners tend to keep themselves to themselves on public transport, but this lady was different. Looking from Mum to the two of us, she asked her “Your daughters?”

Now Mum is happy to talk to anyone, so she replied: “Yes they are, and I'm very proud of them.” I couldn't help feeling thrilled at that. “We're down from Yorkshire and they're acting in a play in the Finsbury Park theatre. They're very good.”

“I love the theatre,” said the lady. “Since my husband died, my daughter and I have been to just about every London show. What play is it?”

This remark seemed to be addressed to me so I told her about 'Brutus' and how it was written by the same author who wrote 'Peter Pan', which “everyone's heard of course”.

She promised to try and come to it, and as the train pulled into Arsenal Station, she got up and said “This is me. Good luck with your play. I hope it's a great success.”

Emma had kept quiet throughout these exchanges and only spoke as the train moved off again.

“You do know who that was don't you?'

Mum and I looked blankly at her. It turns out we had been chatting with one of Britain's greatest actresses, recently made a Dame for her services to theatre and various charities, and had completely failed to recognise her!

I blushed scarlet. “And there I was telling her who J.M.Barrie was. I feel such a fool.”

“I'm sure she didn't mind,” said Mum. “She's as nice in real life as she appears on the screen. No airs and graces at all – she even travels by the Underground.”

It's funny how sometimes you just don't recognise someone when you see them out of their usual or expected environment. Now that Emma had told us, of course I knew why she had looked vaguely familiar.

We alighted at Finsbury Park station and it so happened that the taxi we took was the same one we had when we first arrived, and the driver recognised us.

“ 'Ello ladies, how's the rehearsals going?”

“Very well Tom,” said Emma. “This is our Mum, come down to spend Christmas with us and to see the play.”

“Afternoon missus,” said Tom. “You must be proud of your daughters.”

“Indeed I am,” said Mum.

We got Tom to drive past the theatre before going on to the hotel, to show off the posters with our names on them, and once again Emma paid him ten pounds.

Mum's room was just down the corridor from ours which was handy. We saw her settled in before we all went down to the dining room for some tea.

It was now only two days until Christmas. David asked the cast to make sure to do all their Christmas shopping before Christmas Eve when we would be having a dress rehearsal in the afternoon. Christmas Day would be free of course, and then we would be opening on Boxing Day.

We arrived at the theatre at ten o'clock in the morning on Christmas Eve. Emma, Shirley and I shared a dressing room. As had happened previously, they got ready first, and Georgie, the hairdresser and make-up artist who had come down from Bridchester, attended to them. Once they had left, I took off my skirt and top and sat in my underwear while she fixed up my hair and make-up.

“You're doing really well with your make-up, Harriet,” she said, after learning that I had done it myself.

“Emma is a good teacher,” I said, “It's handy having an older sister.”

“Well I'm sure she's enjoying having a younger sister,” she replied, thus indirectly referring to my 'special' circumstance.

The rehearsal went well enough, but it seemed to be lacking a bit of that extra 'zing' that I'd experienced on the last night at Bridcheater. I wondered if it was because everyone had their minds on Christmas. I could tell from the look on David's face that he wasn't totally happy, and he asked the cast if we could come in at ten o'clock on Boxing Day so that he could go over one or two things. Emma and I were glad to get back to the hotel and Mum, who apparently had filled in the day by having a look at the local shops.

That evening we sat in the lounge downstairs in the hotel. As long as I can remember, we had always watched 'Carols from Kings College Cambridge' on Christmas Eve. I could just about recall sitting on Dad's knee when I was about six and watching it on our old television set. The format has remained the same over the years, although the young boy choristers I saw then have changed over many times of course. One thing that hasn't changed is the sweetness and purity of their voices. Sitting on a couch next to Mum and Emma, wearing a pretty green pleated skirt with a white satin blouse, I couldn't remember when I'd felt happier.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 6 The season starts

Christmas Day dawned cool, but with a clear sky. Emma and I were taking Mum out to lunch in the city, so after a light breakfast we retired to our rooms to get ready. Emma had brought down a gorgeous dark green shantung silk dress for me to wear, and naturally enough I wore sheer tights and the five-inch heels which I had now graduated into wearing. Her own dress was blue silk with matching shoes and looked wonderfully elegant. She checked my make-up and pronounced it 'very good'. My hair was now quite long and I had used curlers to give it a nice wave in an almost 'retro' style. When Mum knocked on our door and showed off her own grey silk dress, we decided that we all looked very smart indeed! We did however put on our woollen coats in view of the chilly weather.

We had booked Tom the taxi driver to take us down to the restaurant and he arrived at eleven-thirty.

“Well I'll be....” he remarked. “You ladies look like you're going to Buckingham Palace.”

“Not this year, Tom,” I said, “But next year – who knows?”

As we drove into the city, Mum asked him if he minded working on Christmas Day.

“I'm only working until mid-afternoon, and then I'm going home for the slap-up dinner the missus is cooking for the family,” he replied. “Turkey, ham and all the trimmings, plus Christmas pud of course.”

This time I paid the fare out of my new improved pay and added a generous tip of about twenty percent as suggested by Emma. We wished Tom and his family a Merry Christmas and said we would be bound to see him in a day or two.

When we entered the restaurant, we left our coats at the cloakroom, and at the risk of sounding boastful, I believe we turned a few heads as the waiter showed us to our table. Most of the ladies there were nicely dressed of course, but Emma and I had the advantage of youth, and I suspect a few husbands might have received a kick under the table for paying far too much attention to the newcomers!

Describing what we had to eat would be a bit boring, so I will content myself with saying that our traditional Christmas lunch was excellent, and as Mum said, there was the added bonus of 'no washing up'! Our first course was served about twelve-thirty, and it was after three o'clock when we finally got up from the table. I didn't feel like eating again for a week! Emma and I had agreed to split the bill, so she paid, with me paying my half early the following week when the banks opened again.

We had booked a taxi as it would be hard to hail one on Christmas Day, and were driven back to Finsbury Park. The hotel staff had set up the dining room as a buffet. We didn't need any more to eat of course, but helped ourselves to coffee and after-dinner mints before going to sit in the lounge and watch some television. Some of the other cast members were there too and complimented us on how we looked. I thought to myself that this would never have happened if I'd been Harry. Yet another advantage of being a girl.

This was undoubtedly the best Christmas I could remember since Dad died. I did not expect any further presents since the cost of my breasts was quite enough, but Mum and Emma knowing how much I enjoy reading, jointly gave me a book gift card for Foyles in Charing Cross Road, one of the best and most famous book stores in London. I determined to take the tube down there when I had some free time and enjoy an hour or two browsing.

I had bought Mum a bottle of her favourite perfume, and for Emma, knowing she was a 'girly' girl (and wasn't I glad of that with all the clothes she had lent me) Mum and I had clubbed together to buy her a gift card from the Victoria's Secret lingerie store. We were all extremely pleased with our gifts.

With Boxing Day being the opening of the play, we did not stay up too late, especially as David had requested a further rehearsal in the morning. To our surprise though, we had a phone call at eight-thirty the next morning, saying that the rehearsal was cancelled and that he would like to see us at the theatre at six o'clock. It turned out all the other cast members received the same message.

Emma and I took Mum out for lunch at a small local café, and then returned to the hotel for what is now described as a 'nanna nap' so that we would be really fresh when we arrived at the theatre. When we got there, we were all asked to assemble on the stage, and David addressed us.

“I canceled today's rehearsal because I felt that you were becoming 'over-rehearsed',” he said, “I didn't want you to become stale, and I know that you all know your parts very well after the Bridchester run. It's not necessary to emphasise the importance of tonight's performance. The London critics will be here and they can be pretty fierce at times. I believe Sir Edgar will come too, so no pressure!” He got the desired laugh in response to that remark.

“I won't bore you with a long speech. You all know what you have to do, so just go for it; oh and enjoy yourselves too.”

Someone asked, “What are the ticket sales like?”

“About three-quarters full, but there will be some who just roll up and hope for a seat, so that's pretty good, considering we are in competition with all the West End shows.”

“Perhaps we'll get the people couldn't get into those,” remarked Ross to some laughter.

“And perhaps they wanted a change from 'Aladdin' or 'Mother Goose',” said David and I thought he sounded a little annoyed. “O.k., folks, I'll leave you to get ready now.”

Emma, Shirley and I headed off to our dressing room. We had plenty of time, but that last hour before a show starts can go awfully quickly, and nothing looks worse than a show starting late, especially if it's because someone isn't ready.

We went into our usual routine with Emma and Shirley getting into costume first and having their hair done and doing their make-up. Then it was my turn to get ready and have my hair and make-up done. I then wandered around to the Prompt Corner which I hadn't had a chance to see properly to date. A tall and rather handsome young man was standing there.

“Hello, I'm Harriet. I've come round to have a look at your equipment,” I said.

“Really!” he responded, and I blushed scarlet, realising what I had said.

“I mean the stage equipment. I'm assistant stage manager at Bridchester when I'm not acting.” I said hurriedly, trying to conceal my confusion – rather unsuccessfully I fear.

He laughed. “I know what you meant. I'm Monty, by the way, named after the field-marshall. So you're the girl who stepped in when the other girl took ill. Real 'A Star is Born' stuff.”

“I'm sure it's happened to other people,” I replied, starting to enjoy our conversation. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“But it helps that you can act,” he replied. “I've been watching you at rehearsals.”

“I hope I do better tonight. The dress rehearsal was a shocker.”

“That often happens,” Monty said, “The times you have to worry is when the D.R. goes perfectly.”

Then he showed me the stage equipment they have which was a great deal more sophisticated than we have at Bridchester.

Monty glanced at his watch. “Five minutes to curtain up.”

“I'll get out of your way,” I said.

“See you later,” said Monty, and I thought to myself 'I wouldn't mind that at all'. followed by 'Good heavens, I'm really starting to think like a girl.'

The performance went very well indeed. I have already recorded my observation that playing to a full or nearly full house makes the world of difference to the actors. I was pleased with my own performance although one can always find something to improve. I had been afraid that I wouldn't find the same intensity of emotion at the end of the scene, but once more I found tears springing into my eyes as the wood darkened and I ran desperately seeking my father and calling out to him. As the curtain came down the applause was loud and prolonged, and at the end when we took our bows, I had no reason to complain at the generous applause I received.

We'd organised a ticket for Mum of course, and when she caught up with us at the stage door, she congratulated us on a great performance. “Of course people will say I'm biased, but all those people applauding can't be wrong,” she said.

David was very happy after the performance and congratulated us on a job well done. It was a big difference to how he had seemed after the dress rehearsal. The big test would be how the critics reviewed it.

The next morning we were all up early to see the newspapers which were delivered to the hotel. Most of us gathered in the sitting room as Emma paged through to the Entertainment Section of one of the most prestigious papers and immediately began to read out the review.

“ 'Provincial Company Impresses with 'Brutus'. ' by Reginald Broomfield.

Sir Edgar Blackley once again proves to be not only a theatrical entrepreneur but also a smart businessman by bringing the Bridchester Apollo Players to present their production of the rarely performed J.M.Barrie play 'Dear Brutus' at the Mercury Theatre in Finsbury Park.

The play, along with Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' which was said to be its inspiration, are both set texts in this year's GCSE English Literature examinations. This may well be the only opportunity to see 'Brutus' on stage, and as such should not be missed by students.

In last night's performance, the First Act could have done with a little more energy and pace, but in the magical wood in Act Two, everyone had their act together, and special mention should be made of the performances of Ross Stroud as Dearth, Emma Stow as his wife and her younger sister Harriet as Margaret his daughter, whose performance leading up to the dramatic conclusion of the Act was acknowledged with well-deserved applause.

The Third Act where the couples return from their experiences in the wood to contemplate their future was well handled, and the play concluded to a standing ovation. The season only goes for a month, so my advice is to get in quickly for what might well prove to be the hottest ticket in town.

“Well I never. Did anyone here know that 'Brutus' was in this year's GCSE?” asked Emma.

“Sir Edgar obviously did,” came a voice from the back of the room to some laughter.

“It should certainly guarantee some full houses,” came another voice, “He might even extend the run.”

Just then David came into the room. “Well gang, I think we can say you nailed it, according to the critics. Don't worry about Broomfield's little snipe about Act One. I've never yet read one of his critiques where he didn't have something to say to prove his superior knowledge.”

“Did you know about the GCSE thing?” said Ross.

“No I didn't, and neither did Duncan,” replied David, “But it should guarantee us some near full houses for the run, so I'm not complaining.”

After that four other critiques were read out and they were all positive. I was pleased in a way that I wasn't singled out to be named, although one did mention the dramatic conclusion to Act Two when 'you could have heard a pin drop'. I was getting concerned that too much attention on me might start provoking jealousy among the other cast members, all of whom, in my opinion, were doing a first-rate job. I was just lucky to be handed the most dramatic sequence in the play.

The following day it was time for Mum to return home. Emma and I were a bit concerned about her being in the house on her own, but she assured us that our neighbours would be keeping an eye on her, and we both knew that they could be relied upon to do that. We promised to ring every day and tell her how things were going.

The next few performances went equally well, and as if to confirm the critic's suggestion, there seemed to be increasing numbers of secondary school students in the audience. I have to say that seeing a play performed makes it much easier to understand than just reading the text.

I had got into the habit of calling around to the prompt corner and chatting, or more accurately flirting with Monty. It was such fun being a girl and knowing that he found me attractive and wanted to be in my company. It was during the fourth evening performance that as I ran off the stage at the end of my scene he caught me in his arms and started to kiss me. I was slightly shocked; I'd never kissed anyone on the lips before but I thoroughly enjoyed it, especially when our tongues engaged, and I felt the response of his body which indicated that he was enjoying it very much indeed. We didn't prolong the kiss too much in case someone appeared – there were always stagehands wandering around, but then what business was it of theirs?

That evening when Emma and I were in our bedroom she suddenly said: “I saw you and Monty this evening.”

With my cheeks flaming I could hardly say “What do you mean?” but instead said defensively “I'm sure you've kissed plenty of boys in your time, and enjoyed it.”

“You're right of course,” she replied, “but there is a slight difference. If Monty gets wind of who you really are the implications could be horrendous. Supposing he decided to make a few quid by going to the tabloids?”

“He wouldn't do that,” I replied hotly, but still it did give me pause to think. “Alright, I take your point. Can you try to be there when I come off stage, please? That should avoid a repeat performance.”

I felt I was giving up some enjoyment unnecessarily as I had no intention of letting Monty get so close that he would get a surprise, but still, Emma had a lot more experience with boys than I did, and when she said “Sometimes when a girl is with a guy that she really likes, things can go further than she intended”, I assumed that she was speaking from personal experience so I had to concede that she could be right.

I'm sure that Monty fully expected a repeat performance the following night and no doubt he was a bit annoyed to find that Emma was waiting in the wings for me when I came off stage and that this was to continue throughout the season.

To be continued

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; also Melanie for some very constructive comments.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

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Chapter 7 New Year's Eve

It was the 31st of December 2000 and a Sunday, so we didn't have a performance of the play. Since the cast and crew were away from their family and friends, and most of us didn't know people in London, we decided to have a party of our own to celebrate the start of the New Year, and as I pointed out to a few people, the 'real' start of the new Millenium.

“How do you make that out?” said Ross. “Do you mean all those people who celebrated last New Year's Eve were wrong?”

“In a word – 'Yes',” I replied. “Our calendar went from 1BC straight to 1AD. There was no Year Zero, so the first Millennium went from 1AD to 1000AD, and the second one from 1001AD to 2000AD. Why do you think Stanley Kubrick called his film “2001”? Because it was set at the start of the third Millenium.”

Ross looked doubtful.

“Look at it another way,” I said. “If you set out a two thousand-yard running track, where would you put the finish line, at the start or the end of the two-thousandth yard?”

“Well that makes more sense to me. Anyway, it's too late now, everyone's already celebrated the New Millennium.”

“It's ironic that I was never good at maths at school, but I can understand what millions of people couldn't,” I smiled.

Ross laughed. “So you're not just a pretty face.”

Of course, he wanted me to blush and I didn't disappoint him.

The party was held in a rehearsal room at the theatre which had been dressed up for the occasion, and just about everyone attended. Emma had brought along two party dresses for us, the one she had selected for me was in radiant blue with a darker blue tulle overlay – very sweet and feminine and I loved it. For herself, Emma had chosen a deep green satin dress without an overlay, but still very pretty.

As usual, we spent a few happy hours getting ready. I knew already that I couldn't imagine going back to being a plain boy again after all the fun I was having. While we were still in our underwear and getting dressed, Emma produced something out of her drawer and held it up. “What do you think?” she asked.

She saw the look on my face and laughed. “Surely you've seen a suspender belt before?”

“Only in pictures,” I replied. “They're very old-fashioned aren't they? I thought women only wore tights nowadays if they wear any hosiery at all. A lot seem to go for the bare leg look.”

“Well that's where you're wrong,” said Emma. “For special occasions, nothing beats suspenders and stockings. Men are very visual creatures and the flash of a stocking-top drives them wild.”

I couldn't help thinking that I had learned more about Emma in the past few weeks than in the whole eighteen years preceding them. Of course in my case, I had to be careful that I didn't get in the situation where a man would ever see the tops of my stockings. Well, there was one man that perhaps I would have made an exception for, but he was up in York University and I was in London. I could feel myself colouring up at the thought but fortunately, Emma didn't appear to notice. It was ages since I'd thought of Reggie. Why had he popped into my head now?

“Why don't you try them yourself?" said Emma. "I've got a spare belt and several pairs of sheer nude stockings. You'll find they feel really feminine to wear.”

Emma showed me how to put on the belt, and then after I carefully drew each stocking up my leg, how to adjust the length of each of the three suspender straps and attach it to the welt of the stocking so that it did not wrinkle when I was either standing up or sitting down. She was right of course, as she was in so many things, it was a really sensual feeling, far more so than wearing tights.

I did my own makeup, and it passed the Emma check. “You are getting really good at it now,” she said. After that, I put on my slip and the dress, and finally a pair of black court shoes with five-inch heels. The final touch was my clip-on earrings and a gold chain with a blue pendant around my neck.

We made quite an impact when we arrived at the party, with many compliments and admiring glances. Not all of the women were dressed up the way we were, not having thought ahead about what they needed to wear. The party was great fun, and I danced with a lot of the men. I had the distinct impression that many of them had forgotten that I wasn't really a girl. I took care not to drink too much, and I stuck close to Emma when I wasn't dancing. I could see that Monty had his eye on me, so I deliberately didn't look in his direction.

Around eleven o'clock, I needed to go to the 'Ladies'. I looked around for Emma but she was nowhere in sight, so I went on my own. The toilets were down a corridor some distance from the hall. When I came out again, my make-up refreshed, I was surprised to see Monty standing in the corridor. I smiled at him and attempted to walk by, but he stood in front of me.

“It looks like you've been avoiding me, Harriet,” he said, his speech slightly slurred. Even from a few yards away I could smell the alcohol.

“Hardly that, Monty, you're standing in the wings each evening when I come off stage.”

“But your sister's always there too, ever since the first night,” he replied. “You seemed to enjoy the kiss we had, but we haven't had a chance since, so how about it now?”

I didn't know how to respond to that. After what Emma had said, I knew that kissing Monty was not a good idea, but how could I avoid it? Up until now, my time as a girl had been a dream run, but now I was up against a situation that many young women must experience – unwanted attention from an amorous and intoxicated admirer, and of course it was partly my fault for letting him kiss me that first time. I wished that someone else would come down the corridor but no-one did. I decided that the best option might be to give him his kiss and then get well away from him.

“Why not?” I said with a smile although it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“Good,” he said stepping towards me and putting his arm around my waist pulling me towards him. Our lips locked and in a few seconds, he forced his tongue into my mouth. I could taste the alcohol on his breath and felt like retching. I hoped this wasn't going to last long but Monty wasn't going to release me any time soon. I could feel how aroused he was getting and when I felt his hands starting to pull up my dress I first felt panic and then a wave of anger. I never thought he would act this way in such a public place but the alcohol had obviously lowered his inhibitions. Just in time I thrust him away and slapped his face – hard.

“Just what do you think you're doing Monty?” I snapped. In retrospect, I realise that he could have reacted violently in return, but fortunately he didn't. Lifting his hand to his face where I had hit him he said “Oww! That really hurt Harriet.”

“It was meant to, Monty. Try that again and I'll scream and then you'll be in real trouble.”

“I thought you were enjoying it,” he whined.

“Well you thought wrong. I'm going back to the hall now. Don't follow me and don't try to kiss me again, o.k.?”

“Alright,” he mumbled. As luck would have it, Emma appeared just then. She took in the situation at a glance, looking at Monty whose cheek was turning a bright red and then turned to me “I've been looking everywhere for you,” she said. “Come into the 'Ladies' with me.”

Of course, I then had to explain to Emma what had happened.

“Should we report him to David?” she said. “He'll probably be fired.”

“No, he's drunk, but I think he'll behave from now on,” I said. “One more incident and I'll report him myself.”

At midnight, there is a tradition of kissing everyone in sight. Even the older men kissed me, but on the cheek. It would have looked strange if they had shaken hands with me. Monty seemed to have learned his lesson as he looked sheepish and kept well away.

The party broke up about two o'clock and we were driven back to the hotel by Ross who had brought his car to London and I knew had had very little to drink. David had told us that we could sleep in Monday morning, so we didn't set the alarm before going to bed.

There is a follow-up to the incident with Monty. At the next performance, when Emma was again there to catch me as I ran off the stage, Monty came up to us and in a rather sheepish manner asked if he could speak to me. I looked at Emma and she nodded but said: “I'll wait here for you Harriet.”

We walked a few steps away and Monty said “Harriet, I'd like to apologise for what happened on New Year's Eve. I know now I was drunk and my actions were out of line. Thank you for not reporting me. Will you forgive me please?”

“Yes you were out of line, well out of line Monty. Don't ever do anything like that again o.k.?”

“Yes, I promise,” he said, and with that I left him and walked to where Emma was waiting for me. When I told her what had transpired, she said “You handled that well Harriet, but a word of warning. Girls have to be careful not to put themselves in situations where bad things can happen. We're not as strong as men, remember that. I know you are a special case but even so Monty is bigger and stronger than you and you might have found it hard to stop him.”

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 8   A big surprise

On the first Saturday of the season, something completely unexpected happened. We had completed the matinee performance to an audience almost completely consisting of school students, and Emma and I had taken off our costumes and put on trousers, tops, and a warm coat in order to go out to a local café for our usual light meal between performances. To my surprise, as we stepped outside the stage door, there was a gaggle of about six teenage girls in school uniforms, holding programs and pens, looking for autographs. I have to confess that I had obtained a copy of the program myself on the first night, and was thrilled to see my name and picture in it. I had then gone around and obtained the signatures of all the cast members and crew. I even got Sir Edgar to sign it. Now being asked for my own autograph was a real thrill and Emma and I chatted with the girls as we signed their programs.

One girl called Sandy was obviously an aspiring actress because she said to me “Miss Stow, can I ask you a question? When you finished your scene you looked so frightened and I thought you were really crying. Can you tell me how you do that please?”

“Well Sandy, as an actress, you try to really immerse yourself in the character, so you think as they would think, and feel as they would feel. I suppose you 'become' the character, anyway that's what I try to do. So you are right, when the light starts to fade in the wood, I really do feel frightened and often the tears start to flow. The strangest experience is when I come off stage and have to return to the 'real world'. That takes a few minutes to do.”

“Thank you Miss Stow. Seeing the play makes such a difference and you were all wonderful,” she said, and she and the other girls turned to walk off. It was only then that I became aware of a tall young man who had been standing back behind the schoolgirls.

“Hello Harriet,” he said.

“Reggie!” I gasped, “What are you doing here?”

“Joining your fan club it seems,” he said with a smile. I felt myself blushing. He was more handsome than ever. How ironic that I had been thinking of him only a few days earlier.

“But I thought you were going to York University when you finished school. Is this a holiday trip?”

Before he could answer, Emma stepped in.

“Hello Reggie, it's nice to see you again.”

“Err, you too Emma,” he replied looking slightly abashed.

Turning to me she said “Harriet, I have to go off and do that shopping I told you about. You and Reggie must have a lot of catching up to do, so why don't you take him for a cup of coffee and I'll see you back at the theatre.

Dear Emma – there was no shopping planned but she obviously didn't want to 'play gooseberry', and so worked out a way of absenting herself from the scene.

“Have you got time for a coffee Reggie?” I said.

“Oh yes, I'd love to,” he replied.

As we walked down the street together I explained that when we had two shows on one day, I liked to have a light meal to keep my energy levels up.

The café was only a few minutes away, and Reggie asked if he could order for me.

“I'd like poached eggs on toast and a cup of tea please,” I replied. He suggested that I find a table while he went to the counter. It was late afternoon and the café was almost empty, but I chose a table well away from the counter and other patrons so that we could talk without being overheard.

A couple of minutes later Reggie sat down, holding one of those little stands with a number which he placed on the table. I did offer to pay for my meal but he insisted that it was his treat.

“Now tell me about university,” I said. “And why you're in London now.”

“I do still intend to go to university, but after all those years of school, I decided to take a year off to see the world a bit and also earn some money. London isn't exactly the world but it's a lot different to Bridchester. Anyway, a friend of my father knows someone with a senior position in one of the big banks, and he offered to get me a job at a London branch, so here I am. But what about you, how did you come to be on the stage?”

At this point, the waitress arrived with a tray and two plates of poached eggs on toast, a pot of tea and two cups and saucers. “I was hungry too,” explained Reggie.

Once the waitress had left the table, I explained how it came about that I was acting on the stage in London instead of standing in the wings at Bridchester. Reggie listened with great interest. “I thought that sort of thing only happened in novels,” he commented.

“Well of course in the big productions like the West End, they have understudies ready to step in, but the Apollo Players can't afford that, so it was either me or no final performance,” I said.

“And you perform so well,” he said. “I was totally convinced.”

“So you've seen the play then?” I said, wondering if he meant totally convinced by the character, or totally convinced I was a girl.

“Yes, if fact I should explain how it came about; call it fate if you like. I'm sharing a flat with another guy in Southgate and take the tube to the city every day, so I pass through Finsbury Park but never had a reason to get off. Then on Thursday, my section head called me into his office and said that he had a satchel of important documents that had to go to the Finsbury Park branch urgently. There was a problem getting a courier, so he asked if I would leave work early and call in to the branch on my way home, so that's what I did.

“Now comes the fate part. Walking back to the tube station I took a wrong turn and was walking past the theatre when I glanced at the notice on the wall. I'd never heard of 'Dear Brutus' before and it seemed an odd name for a play, so I stopped to look more closely and that's when I saw 'Apollo Players' and Emma Stow and Harriet Stow in the cast. I must admit the name threw me a bit, but I felt I had to know if it was really you, so I went to the box office and bought a ticket. It must be going well as I managed to get one of the last seats up in the 'gods'. I bought a programme and saw your name and picture and that you were Emma's sister. I can tell you I was really intrigued. When I saw the play everyone was good but I thought you were outstanding. I felt I had to see you, so here I am.”

I felt myself colouring a bit. “I'm just lucky to have the most dramatic moment in the play, so everyone notices it,” I said, but I couldn't help feeling pleased at his comment.

He paused and I could tell there was a question he wanted to ask but didn't know how to phrase it, so I helped him out.

Lowering my voice I said, “You're probably wondering why I'm a girl off-stage as well as on.”

“Well, err,” was his response.

“It's quite simple. Sir Edgar insisted on me playing the role but he didn't want anyone to know about me in case it got in the tabloids; you know what they're like. So part of the deal was that all the time I'm in London I'm a girl.”

“And that doesn't bother you?”

“Oh no, I'm used to it now,” was my response. Strictly speaking that was true, but there was more to it than I chose to reveal at that moment.

I glanced at my watch; the time seemed to have flown by. “I'm sorry Reggie, but I have to get back to the theatre to get ready for tonight's performance.”

“I'll walk you back if you don't mind,” he said. “I managed to get a much better ticket tonight, It's a complex play and I think I'll get more out of it on a second viewing.”

As we walked back to the theatre, we made small-talk, but in my mind I was shouting ' Don't be shy, ask me out. Ask me out!' and wondering why convention insists that a girl should wait for a boy to make the first move.

I don't know if it was telepathy, but almost when we reached the stage door, Reggie suddenly said “Harriet, I'd really like to see you again. Do you get any time off?”

“Just Sundays,” I said, and then to emphasise the point “Like tomorrow.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” he asked.

“Well I was going to wash my hair,” I said, and then seeing the look of disappointment on his face hurriedly said “That's a girl joke, Reggie. Yes, I'm free and I'd love to go out with you.”

“Great,” he said, looking very relieved. “Anywhere special?”

“You may remember my Dad was very keen on medieval history. He always told me that when I went to London I should go to see Hampton Court Palace. Is that too far?”

“Not at all. In fact, I've been meaning to go there myself. My flatmate is away overseas at present and offered me the use of his car while he's away. Is nine o'clock too early to pick you up?”

I assured him that that would be fine and gave him the address of the hotel.

Then it was time to go in, so I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and entered the stage door, wondering if that was a move too far.

Emma was in the dressing room when I arrived.

“How was your date?” she asked with a grin.

“That wasn't a date, just a meal,” I replied, “But I am going out with Reggie tomorrow. Oh, and thanks for going off for your 'shopping trip' today. I really appreciated that.”

“Well I don't mind you seeing him,” she replied. “After all, he's a nice young man and he does know about you. By the way, I really did go shopping and I bought a lovely grey pleated woolen skirt. Perhaps you'd like to wear it tomorrow?”

“Emma, you're an angel,” I said and gave her a big hug. “I never realised having a sister could be so much fun.”

“Neither did I,” she said.

Aware that Reggie was out there watching in the darkness, I put on the performance of my life that evening. Even Emma and Shirley commented on it when I saw them in the dressing room afterwards.

“Of course she had an admirer in the audience,” said Emma with a wicked grin.

“He's just a friend,” I muttered, but I don't think they believed me, and I suppose my flaming cheeks didn't help.

I was up early Sunday morning, more than a little excited about the day ahead. The sun was shining, but it was January, so quite cold. I needed to wear something warm, but I still wanted to look feminine for Reggie, so after my shower, I took up Emma's offer of wearing her new woollen skirt together with black opaque tights, Emma's ankle boots, and a red woolen top.

I was in the middle of brushing my hair and carefully doing my make-up when Emma, who was still lying in bed said: “For a date that isn't a date, you seem to be taking a great deal of trouble with your appearance.”

Without thinking I replied, “Well a girl must try to look her best.”

Emma opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, leaving me to ponder on what I had just said. I had only been dressing as a girl for less than two weeks, but already it seemed so comfortable and natural. I knew about cross-dressers of course but in my eyes they were men who dressed as women for a variety of reasons, but this wasn't how I saw myself. It was certainly something to which I would have to give a great deal of thought, but in the meantime there was my day out with Reggie to look forward to, and maybe Emma was right – perhaps it was a date.

I attached my favourite earrings, picked up my handbag and went down to the dining room for a light breakfast, and at five to nine I went into the hotel reception area to await Reggie.

I stood up as he entered the hotel right on time, and it seemed to me that he did a double-take as he saw me, but he said: “Hello Harriet, you look nice.”

“Thank you,” I replied, having been coached by Emma in the art of receiving compliments.

Reggie looked good himself, wearing grey trousers, a roll-neck jumper and a leather coat, but it is not usual for a girl to compliment a man on what he is wearing.

“I've parked my flatmate's car just around the corner,” he said. “Shall we go?”

We walked down the street and then he paused beside a car, low-slung, in British Racing Green and with a fabric top.

“An MG!” I said with surprise. I never expected that.

“Yes, it's a TD Model. Richard my flat-mate is a sports car enthusiast. I was surprised when he said I could borrow it while he is away, but he assures me it's well insured. I hope you can get in alright,” he added as he opened the passenger door.

The MG Is very low-slung and I was determined not to show too much leg, even though I was wearing opaque tights. I lowered myself into the car, and then gathering my skirts, swung my legs in, keeping them close together. Anyhow, Reggie, being a gentleman had looked away. He closed the door and went around to the driver's side and got in. I'd never sat in an MG before; they are not large cars and we were cosily close together.

“Hampton Court opens at ten o'clock, so we've plenty of time, but if we get there early we might get to park at the Palace itself,” he said as he started the engine. It gave forth an impressively throaty roar as he headed into the traffic.

I thoroughly enjoyed the ride and was glad that Reggie had thoughtfully put up the top even though I was wearing my woolen hat. Even with the heater running, the car was a bit draughty, but I wasn't going to complain. We arrived at the Palace just before ten o'clock and were in luck, getting one of only three parking spaces left. Reggie opened the car door for me and I reversed my entry procedure, taking his hand to assist me in standing up. Much to my disappointment he then let go of my hand, but on our way to the entrance to the palace I somehow managed to trip and Reggie caught hold of me with his hand and continued to hold it for the rest of our time there, much to my satisfaction!

The palace was all that my father said and more. I hardly need to write a history of it since this is readily available online. Suffice it to say one of its most famous inhabitants was Cardinal Wolsey, once a favourite of Henry VIII, who upon falling out of favour with the king, made Henry a gift of it in an unsuccessful attempt to regain the king's friendship. Henry set about making many changes to it, as did a number of later monarchs. We saw the banqueting hall and the enormous kitchens designed to prepare food for the huge banquets; the Cumberland Gallery with many famous paintings, the wonderful gardens and of course the famous maze as well as many other areas.

We had lunch in the Privy Kitchen, a sixteenth-century dining hall, and Reggie told me about the ghosts who are said to haunt the palace. While I don't believe in them myself, I can't say I would care to spend a night there.

We finally left at four o'clock, not long before closing time. I did manage to persuade Reggie to let me pay for lunch but he insisted on paying the entry fee and parking costs. I didn't know how much he was paid, but I was now getting more money as an actor and didn't want to bankrupt him in case he thought I was too expensive to ask out again!

When we arrived back at the hotel it was already dark and Reggie found a parking space near to the entrance. I thanked him profusely for a lovely day, and when he said “Same time next week?”, my answer was “Yes please.”

I rather hoped he would kiss me, but when he didn't, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't respond with a kiss on the lips and I felt that I had gone as far as propriety allowed. Again Reggie assisted me out of the car, and I stood there and waved to him as he drove away.

Emma was in the bedroom reading a script when I arrived there.

“Have a good day?” she asked.

“A very good day I replied. “But I'm rather tired now. I think I'll have an early night.” I felt that she was going to interrogate me, and I wanted to avoid it, so I undressed, put on my nightie and got into bed.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 9 'Theatre royalty' and another date with Reggie.

The week went by with more sell-out performances, and judging by the applause at the end of each act and at the final curtain, the audience was really enjoying it. As I stood in the wings with Ross waiting for my cue, I kept thinking about how lucky I was to be doing something I really loved. At each performance, there was an increasing number of school children present. Word was obviously getting around, presumably each school letting others know that this was the only opportunity to see the play on stage.

One evening there was a surprise. David came on stage just after the final curtain had fallen and told Emma and I that he wanted a word with us.

“We had theatre royalty in the audience tonight, Dame Emily Good, and I understand it's down to you two,” he said, “I didn't tell you before the performance in case it put you off.”

“Oh goodness Emma, she did come after all!” I almost squeaked in my excitement.

“She's here with her daughter who's an actress too and would like to meet you to congratulate you on the performance. I sat them in the Royal Box and I've ushered them into my office by the back corridor so that she isn't mobbed by the audience.”

Emma and I gripped each other's hand as we followed David to his office. My heart was racing and I wondered if I should curtsey when I entered the room.

“My dears, how nice to see you again,” Dame Emily said standing up to greet us. “This is my daughter Cressy; she's an actress too. We enjoyed the play so much that we couldn't leave without offering our congratulations. David tells me that this is your first role Harriet; I find that quite amazing.”

“Thank you so much,” I replied, blushing scarlet. “Everyone has been so helpful and encouraging.”

She smiled. “Well, that only takes you so far. You have real talent young lady and I hope to see you in many more roles. I hope you will contact me when you are next in London and I'll do what I can to help.”

I was close to speechless and somehow managed to stammer out my thanks. I know this sounds silly, but after they left, I suddenly felt light-headed and Emma had to make me sit down and have a drink of water.

“Pinch me, I think I'm dreaming,” I said faintly.

Emma smiled. “You've made a very useful friend there. She's obviously forgiven you for not recognising her on the tube!”

I couldn't think of a smart riposte to that, so I just sat there in a happy daze.

Word got around the rest of the cast and crew of course and we both received congratulations. Thank goodness they are not a jealous group.

I was looking forward to my next date with Reggie. (I might keep protesting to Emma that they were not 'dates', but in my heart of hearts I knew they were.) He rang on Thursday to check that it was still on and asked me where I wanted to go. I suggested that this time he should decide and make it a surprise.

Sunday morning came around and I was up early to get ready. The day was overcast and the forecast was for a chilly day, so Emma suggested that I wear jeans instead of a skirt.

“I know that you prefer skirts, but it really isn't the weather for them, and you can still look very feminine wearing jeans and a pretty top,” she said. “Another thing is that you would find you were the only girl your age wearing a skirt and you don't want to draw attention to yourself do you?”

I was learning to take her advice, so I did as she said. I was fairly confident that no-one was going to 'read' me, but why take a chance?

“Where are we going?” I asked as we were seated in the car and Reggie drove off.

“Somewhere you've never been before. I can guarantee that.”

I was intrigued. How could he be so sure? The secret was finally revealed when Reggie drove across the Thames to the South Bank. Towering above us was the London Eye, the tallest Ferris wheel in the world at that time.

“It only opened in March last year so I'm sure you haven't been on it,” said Reggie as he parked at Waterloo and we set off on the short walk to the wheel. “I hope you've got a good head for heights, it's over four hundred feet tall.”

I wasn't sure how I would feel having never been that high before, but with Reggie beside me, I was sure I could manage it.

It was already a very popular tourist attraction, so after Reggie bought our tickets we had to stand in a queue to enter one of the large capsules which hold up to twenty-five people. We were looking around at the huge superstructure when a woman's voice from in front of us said in a coquettish tone “Hello Reggie.”

We both turned to look at her. I try to be friendly to everyone I meet, but there was something about this girl that made me take an instant dislike to her. From her long dyed blonde hair with black roots surrounding an over-made-up face to her dress with a ridiculously short hemline and a plunging neckline which barely contained her 'assets', everything about her screamed 'tart'. I could choose a worse word but I'll leave it at that.

Reggie looked embarrassed. “Oh, hi Samantha,” he said.

Seeing her inquiring look at me he added: “Sam, this is Harriet, a friend down from Bridchester.”

“Hello,” I said. There was no point in adding 'Nice to meet you' when I didn't mean it.

“Bridchester, 'oop north',” she said in what she imagined to be a comical northern accent.

“Yes, that's right,” I replied, trying not to sound too cold.

“Down long are you?” she asked.

“About a month,” I replied. I felt embarrassed that I was answering her so abruptly, but frankly, the sooner this conversation ended the better. Fortunately, the queue started to move forward and Sam's friends called to her as they were just about the enter a capsule, so she said “Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy a great ride with Reggie,” as she turned to follow her friends.

I was seething. Just what exactly did she mean by that final remark, or was it exactly what I thought it meant?

“Who was that?” I said to Reggie. He had hardly uttered a word during this encounter.

“Sam was one of the tellers in the branch where I work,” he said.

“Surely not dressed like that?”

“Not exactly; the counter staff do wear a uniform,” he managed a slight smile. “Mind you she did take up the hem of her skirt six inches and management made her put it back down again.”

“You said 'was' one of the tellers',” I said.

“She left straight after the New Year. There was a drinks party at work on the Friday before New Year's Eve. I wasn't there. The scuttlebutt was that she was caught having sex in a storeroom with one of the work experience students who just happened to be the son of a senior manager. The first day back at work it was strongly suggested to her that she hand in her resignation. The alternative wasn't spelled out but it was pretty obvious. The ironic thing is she might have got away with it if she wasn't so darn noisy having sex.”

There was a silence as we both digested the significance of that remark.

‘How on earth does he know that?’ I thought to myself, not wanting to believe the obvious answer.

“Well that's what I've been told, anyway,” he said lamely, but we both knew it was too late. I felt so disappointed in Reggie, not because he'd had sex, but that it had been with her. Supposing she had become pregnant? Knowing Reggie, he would have felt obliged to 'do the right thing' and marry her and what a disaster that would have been.

We moved forward and took our place in the capsule. Thank goodness it wasn't the one Sam had entered. I would have refused to go into the same one anyway. We moved off slowly, and to my surprise, I wasn't worried as we slowly rose up in the air. The view was certainly sensational. At one point I looked up at the capsule in front and now above us. I saw Sam looking down at us and if looks could kill I'd be being measured up for a pine box. I looked away, ignoring her. She wasn't going to scare me.

The whole circuit of the wheel took half an hour. I did talk to Reggie as he pointed out some of the London landmarks.

“This is the largest wheel in Europe,” he said. “Well at least for now. Someone else will probably decide they need to build a bigger one.”

“The male preoccupation with having the biggest one?” I said. It was meant to be a joke, but somehow it fell flat.

After the Eye, we walked through Jubilee Gardens to Sea Life, the London Aquarium. It had amazing displays of fish and other sea creatures and normally I would have been fascinated, but I was acutely aware there was a distance between Reggie and me and I didn't know how to deal with it. Eventually, I turned to Reggie and said “I'm sorry Reggie, I'm not feeling very well today, I have a terrible headache. Would you mind taking me back to the hotel?”

“Of course,” he said, and he looked so miserable my heart went out to him, but I couldn't help how I was feeling.

We drove back to the hotel almost in silence, and when the car pulled up outside and Reggie said “Next Sunday?”, my reply was “Why don't you ring me?” I didn't kiss him goodbye.

I went straight up to the room and fortunately, Emma was still out. I threw myself on the bed and sobbed. Was this what it was like being a girl, finding out your boyfriend had had sex with an awful girl, just because she threw herself at him?

By the time Emma came back, I had cried myself to sleep, but the tear-tracks on my makeup could not be hidden when I awoke. Emma sat beside me on the bed.

“What's up kid?” she asked. I could feel my eyes brimming again as I told her everything that had happened. When I finally ran out of things to say, she sat in silence for a while.

“Well you can't really say he was unfaithful to you,” said Emma. “That happened before you even met up.”

“I know that,” I said. “It's just she was such a horrible person. I just don't know what he saw in her.”

“Well I can't answer that. Perhaps he was lonely? He hasn't been in London very long and doesn't know many people. Perhaps it was the hormones kicking in?”

“I know you'll say that I of all people should understand how boys feel, but the fact is I don't. Am I being unreasonable? I suppose I wanted him to be pure and untouched.”

“Perhaps he is,” said Emma. “After all, he didn't actually say he went to bed with her.”

“Well, how did he know about her being noisy having sex?”

“I imagine it was common knowledge in the bank. Anyhow, we live in different times now Harriet. Very few people are virgins by their mid-twenties, I know none of my friends were when they got married. Most people take the view 'Don't ask, don't tell'. Let whatever is in the past stay in the past.”

“I suppose you're right,” I said. “But I feel at such a disadvantage; he can't even have sex with me, so why would he want to be my friend?”

Even as I said it I thought 'I'm glad Reggie didn't hear me say that. It makes it sound like I think he's very shallow.'

Emma laughed “My dear little sister, there is a lot more to sexual intimacy than you realise, and don't forget that the most important sex organ isn't where you think – it's the brain, and I'm sure both you and Reggie have one of those! As to why he would want to be your friend, that's simple, he likes you – very much, and always has done. That's much more important in a relationship than sex. Surely you can see that. And you, you like him too don't you?”

I could feel myself reddening “You know I do.” My heart sank. “Do you think he'll ring me again after how I reacted today?”

“I think he will,” said Emma. “And if he doesn't, well you have to write it off to experience. You may not have realised it at the time but you reacted exactly as any girl would in those circumstances.”

That wasn't really something I cared to think about. Reggie was my first boyfriend, (there, I'd admitted it to myself), and now I knew how much I wanted to keep him. Life seemed to be getting very complicated. After all, I was supposed to go back to being a boy when I returned to Bridchester, but that would mean the end of my relationship with Reggie. He would only be interested in me as a girl, I was sure of that. I wondered if he was already thinking of me as one, but how could I ask him a question like that? In fact, how would I answer if he asked me how I saw myself?

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 10  A trip to Southgate.

The next week went well, with more sell-out audiences. There was only one cloud hovering over me; Reggie hadn't phoned, and as each day passed I wondered more and more whether he would. David knew something was wrong and that it was affecting how I performed. After Wednesday's performances he took me into his office and asked me what was wrong.

“Nothing,” I replied, but he wasn't convinced.

“I didn't come down in the last shower, Harriet. Your performances are usually amazing, and they are still good, but they've lost that edge.”

It was at that point that I burst into tears. He walked up and held me as my body shook and in between sobs I blurted out the whole story.

“Well at least now I know what's wrong,” he said when I finally stopped crying.

“I'm so sorry. I feel that I'm letting you down,” I said, on the point of starting to cry again.

“I think you're more worried about letting yourself down,” was his reply. “What actors do is different from a normal job where if you are upset you can hide in a corner until you feel better. Instead, you have to appear before hundreds of people even when it's the last thing you want to be doing. You are a fine actress Harriet, one of the best I've ever seen. Maybe Reggie will ring and maybe he won't, but you have to try and put that out of your mind for the time you are on the stage. No-one will say that's easy, but I've seen actors go on stage after their partners have died or something equally devastating, and give the performance of a lifetime. Do you think you can do that?”

I gulped. “Well compared to that, my problem is very small, David. Yes, I'm sure I can get back to normal. I promise I won't let you down.”

On Friday, David called us together before the performance and told us that due to an overwhelming demand for tickets, Sir Edgar would like to extend the season by two weeks, all the extra time possible as another production was booked to follow us. Not only that, but he would like to make a change to the performance schedule so that instead of matinees on Wednesday and Saturday, we would have them to Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, and of course he would adjust our pay accordingly.

A couple of the cast who are married weren't too happy about it, or at least they suspected their families back in Bridchester might not be, but after some hurried phone calls, everyone was in agreement about the revised schedule. I was thrilled because it meant an extra two weeks as Harriet, and of course, the extra pay would come in handy too. I was deliberately not thinking too much about what would happen when we returned home. I was also sweating on the phone call from Reggie, which finally came on Friday afternoon just as I was on the point of giving up hope. When I saw who was ringing me, my heart started to pound.

“Hello Harriet, how are you?” He sounded nervous.

“I'm fine thank you, Reggie. It's good to hear from you.”

“Harriet, about last Sunday.....” his voice trailed off.

“Reggie, can we just forget about it? It's in the past now and it can stay there.” I hesitated. “Reggie, the fact is I don't think I handled things very well.”

“No, it was me that didn't handle things well, and I'm so sorry about that,” he paused and then in a relieved voice said, “Does that mean you'll come out with me on Sunday?”

“Of course, if you'd like me to.”

“Yes, please. Would you like to choose where we go this time?”

“Well, you've told me it's a very nice area where you live in Southgate, almost in the country. Would you like to show me what it's like?”

Reggie was enthusiastic in accepting the idea; in retrospect I think he would have agreed to anything I said, and we agreed to meet in the hotel foyer at nine o'clock on Sunday.

That evening, after the performance and as Emma and I were getting ready for bed, she suddenly said: “Harry, we need to talk.” I was sitting on the bed in my nightie and was frankly so shocked at the use of a name I hadn't heard for nearly a month that it made me jump as though I'd been stung. Before I had time to open my mouth to protest she half apologised.

“Alright, maybe I shouldn't have used that name but I had to get your attention. I assume you're going out on another date with Reggie on Sunday, and I know you don't like the use of that word, but what else would you call it?”

“But we are just good friends, you said that yourself,” I protested.

“Alright, if you want to call it that. What I wanted to talk to you about was what is going to happen when we return to Bridchester? I've been watching you these past few weeks and I've never seen you look happier, apart from this week, and now you look so much better that I know Reggie has phoned you. The thing is, this is like a fairy tale you know, and eventually you have to come back to reality. And now there's another thing. The cast and crew are happy to go along with the pretence about you because you got us out of a hole in Bridchester and guaranteed us this run in London, but now Reggie is involved too. I know he knows about you but does he really know about you?

“I know I'm partly to blame; I've encouraged you to think of yourself as a girl because it would make it less likely that you would give yourself away, but now I'm starting to wonder - just how do you really see yourself? And another thing – how does Reggie see you; as a friend who is a boy but happens to be dressing as a girl at present, or something more than that? I know you are friends and enjoy each other's company, but suppose things develop further than friendship?” She noticed the deepening colour of my cheeks and went on “Maybe they already have?”

I opened my mouth to speak but she cut in and said “No hear me out. One thing you have to learn about being a girl is that we have a lot of power as far as men are concerned. That even applies to you as you are presenting yourself at present. Men always appear to be tough because that's what they are taught from a young age, but really, they can be as fragile in their feelings as girls are. What happens to Reggie if he starts to get really fond of you as Harriet but you go back to Brid and become Harry again? That's not very fair to him is it?”

I gulped. I hadn't really thought of it that way. I know it was selfish but I'd been thinking more about how it affected me than him. Being a girl for three weeks had given me a whole new view of the world and I loved it.

“Should I ring Reggie up and tell him I can't go out on Sunday?” I said reluctantly, as it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“There's no need for that. I think you should still go out, but in the meantime, you should give some thought to your future, and then, when you see him you should tell him exactly what your feelings and intentions are and he can decide what he wants to do. That's only fair isn't it?”

I could only agree with her, and so we then went to bed, although I lay awake for a long time thinking over what we had discussed.

Sunday arrived and despite us having some rainy days during the week, the day dawned bright and sunny. I had decided to wear Emma's tartan skirt and teamed it with some red opaque tights that I had bought, and I also wore her boots again in case we walked on wet grass or earth. The weather was slightly warmer, so Emma suggested I wear a white camisole over my bra and a white satin top. I could hardly believe that such skimpy garments would protect me from the cold, but Emma knew what she was talking about. Together with a warm fleece-lined jacket, this proved perfect at keeping the cold at bay and looked really pretty and feminine too. I was so grateful to Emma for loaning me so many of her clothes and particularly grateful that she was a 'girly girl' and had such nice clothes for me to borrow. As usual, I took great care with my hair and makeup and this time she didn't comment. The fact was that after thinking for hours the previous two nights, I knew that after what I had to tell Reggie, there was a chance that this might be the last time we went out together and I wanted to always remember it.

After breakfast, I waited in the foyer for Reggie and once again he complimented me on my appearance. He seemed to be wearing the same clothes as the previous week, but I guess for men that doesn't really matter. He still had use of the MG although his flat-mate was due back the following week, so he said this might be the last time he had weekend access to it.

We got into the car and Reggie headed north. I was impressed with his knowledge of the roads since he hadn't been in London very long. We drove on a road called Green Lanes, up through Wood Green. Now heavily built up, I could only imagine that they received their names hundreds of years ago when the area would have been countryside.

At Palmers Green we turned left up Alderman's Hill, past some parkland and eventually reached Southgate with its 'flying saucer' shaped tube station. Reggie told me this was where he took the train each morning as his flat was only ten minutes' walk away. Southgate apparently referred to the south gate of Enfield Chase, a royal deer-hunting forest in the Middle Ages, now long gone of course.

I have to admit that Reggie was keeping most of the conversation going as I was still rather absorbed in my thoughts. He made no comment until we reached Grovelands Park where he suggested we get out for a walk.

“There is a boating lake here but I think that should be kept for warmer weather,” he said, and then paused. “Harriet, what's wrong? You sounded a lot happier on the phone, but you've hardly said a word so far. Are you still thinking about last week or not feeling well?”

“Oh no Reggie, I'm having a lovely time. It's just that my sister Emma had a 'heart-to-heart' talk with me on Friday, and I've been thinking a lot about it ever since.”

“If this is leading up to telling me that you don't want to go out with me any more, then please just come out with it,” he said, his face suddenly serious.

I felt tears start in my eyes. “No Reggie, it's not like that at all.”

“Here, come and sit down on this seat for a while and tell me all about it,” he said, taking my hand and leading me to a park bench.

“Well Reggie, it's like this. When you first saw me dressed as a girl, I told you it was part of the deal that I enabled me and the whole company to perform 'Brutus' in London, and that was true. The thing is, after dressing this way for nearly a month, I'm coming to terms with the fact that this is the person I want to be – permanently. In fact, I know now I've been playing a part all my life, pretending to be a boy. I always knew something wasn't quite right, I didn't know what, but now I do. Emma asked me what I'm going to do when we go back to Bridchester, and I realise that the thought of going back to being Harry appalls me. If I don't keep living as Harriet, then I will always think that I missed the most important chance of my life and I'm going to be miserable for ever. Emma said I must tell you how I feel and now I have. Reggie, I don't want to be a 'might-have-been' girl like Margaret in the play, so if this is all too weird for you to handle and you don't want anything to do with me any more......” my voice trailed off.

Tears were running down my cheeks, and Reggie put his arm around me and producing a handkerchief gently dabbed at my cheeks.

“My dear sweet girl,” he said. “Whatever makes you think that I wouldn't want anything to do with you? I know you said not to talk about last Sunday, but the fact is ever since then it's been on my mind that I might lose you. I realised that the way you reacted…..well it wasn't the way a boy would react, but it was exactly the way a girl would react. Do you think that what you've just said comes as a surprise to me? I'll tell you something that you won't remember, but that I've often thought about. When we were at school together and you were coaching me in Latin, we were up in my bedroom one day and I suddenly looked at you and thought how much you looked like a girl. I had an overwhelming urge to kiss you. In fact, I probably would have but...”

“Your mother came in with milk and biscuits,” I cut in.

Reggie laughed. “So you do remember,” he said.

“A girl always remembers her first kiss, even if it didn't quite happen,” I said. Then I smiled shyly, “Of course your mother isn't here now.”

Reggie was looking at me intently but now he smiled as he moved closer to me. I closed my eyes and then felt his warm lips on mine as his arms tightened around me. We kissed for a long time and when we finally came up for air Reggie said: “Better now?”

“Oh yes!”

We walked back to the car hand in hand, and it suddenly felt like the sun was warmer than before. My kisses from Monty were wiped from my mind - this was my first real kiss.

“Did you want to go to a restaurant for lunch, or would you like me to cook you something?” he said.

“I'd love you to cook me lunch,” I said.

Back at Reggie's flat, he showed me through. There were two bedrooms, a lounge room, kitchen, bathroom, and laundry. I was pleasantly surprised by how clean and tidy it was. Men have a bit of a reputation for living in a mess, but it certainly didn't apply to Reggie and Richard's flat. Of course, he might have thought there was a chance I'd be visiting and so made a special effort, and his next words confirmed that.

“I was hoping you'd come here today, so I assembled the ingredients to make a risotto,” he said.

“Lovely,” I said. “May I watch? I've made up my mind that it's time I learned to do more than boil an egg.”

Reggie seemed very confident in the kitchen. After checking what I enjoyed eating, he put together a mushroom, brie and herb risotto which was served straight from the pan to our plates and tasted absolutely delicious. I was lavish in my praise and he was very pleased. He offered me a glass of wine but said he would not have one himself because he had 'precious cargo' to deliver safely back to Finsbury Park. Instead, we had mineral water, followed by a cup of coffee which we drank while seated together on the sofa in front of the gas fire while listening to jazz on the stereo. It will not surprise you to learn that it wasn't long before we were kissing again. After starting off the day fearing that this would be the last time I saw Reggie, all my concerns had come to naught. I knew that there might not be a future for us together, but it was enough for now that he accepted my chosen gender, and I fully intended to make the most of the remaining time we had together.

Reggie drove me back to the hotel as it was getting dark. There was time for one more lingering kiss before I went inside, and a promise that we would be seeing each other on the following Sunday. When I went up to my room I was a little surprised to find that Emma was not there. Not wanting to hang around there on my own, I went down to the sitting room and there discovered Ross sitting alone watching television. It is not infrequent for performers, particularly when they are away from home for extended periods to form a temporary liaison. When one or other happens to be married, this can lead to complications. I knew that Ross and Emma had been seeing a bit of each other for the past month, and since both were single, there was no problem with this. I was a bit surprised when after asking him if he had seen Emma, he said he hadn't.

I sat in an adjacent chair and we both watched television for a while and then Ross said he was going to bed. I stayed up until ten o'clock, but that was late enough for me, with a rehearsal and another performance the next day, so I also retired. I had no idea what time it was when Emma finally entered our room, and since she was tip-toeing around to avoid waking me up, I felt that the best thing was to pretend to be asleep.

The next morning I had to wake her as she seemed very tired, almost groggy.

“What time did you get in?” I asked. “Ross was asking where you were but I didn't know.”

Emma flushed. It was rare for her to look embarrassed but she did now.

“I had a date,” she said. “Just like you. How did yours go by the way?” It seemed to me that she was anxious to change the subject.

“Very well,” I replied. “I made my decision. I told Reggie that I wasn't just dressing as a girl for the sake of the production but because that is what I feel I am. I was scared to death how he would react, but he wasn't surprised at all. He even reminded me about a time when he nearly kissed me years ago when I was tutoring him in Latin, but his mother came into the room and it didn't happen.”

“And I take it he didn't 'nearly' kiss you this time?”

It was now my turn to blush. “Well, I did point out that yesterday his mother wasn't there.”

Emma laughed. “You really are a girl, Harriet. You're already learning how to get what you want without coming out and asking for it. So when we go back to Brid are you going to tell Mum that Harry has gone and you are Harriet from now on?”

“Yes, I am. I hope she is not too shocked.”

“She'll probably ask me if we encouraged this by buying you the breast forms, but I will tell her we only provided a small push to something that was inevitable.”

I hugged Emma. “You are the best sister a girl could have,” I said. “Now I think it's time you got a shower and freshened up.”

“Goodness, do I look that bad?” she said.

Emma didn't tell me where she had been that night, and I would never have known except a few days later Sir Edgar arrived unannounced at the theatre to see Duncan about something.

Seeing me he said “Hello young lady, how are you?”

“Very well Sir Edgar, and I'm still enjoying playing Margaret,” I replied.

“Very good, and may I say you are looking prettier than ever. By the way, how's your sister?” he asked, and at that moment I knew.

“She's fine thank you, Sir Edgar. I'll tell her you asked after her.” I replied.

There was a smug self-satisfied look on his face and I thought 'Emma, how could you? He's old enough to be your father.'

That evening, back in the hotel room I said to her “I saw Sir Edgar today. He asked how you were.” She immediately flushed and confirmed my suspicions.

“You know, don't you,” she said. It was more a statement than a question.

“It's not for me to pass judgment on what you do,” I replied, although perhaps with that statement it was exactly what I was doing.

“It was a mistake, a silly mistake,” she said. “He's been chasing me for weeks, telephone calls, texts, flowers.” I had wondered about a large bouquet of flowers that was in our room but assumed they were from Ross.

“Today he rang and offered me a small part in one of his West End productions.”

“What an opportunity!” I exclaimed.

“Yes it was, but I turned it down. I was polite but I said my mother needed me to stay in Bridchester.” I looked at her with astonishment. Most performers would give their eye teeth to get onto the West End stage.

“I know what you're thinking,” she said, “But when I finally get offered a part I want it to be on merit alone, not for 'services rendered'.”

Now it was my turn to walk across and hug her. I felt curiously like the older sister, just for once. “And you will get a good part one day, and on your merits,” I said.

Emma had tears in her eyes “Just not in a Sir Edgar Blakely theatre, I suspect.”

“Well there are plenty of others,” I responded. “If he holds a grudge, would you really want to work for him anyway?”

Since that time through theatre scuttlebutt, it has come to my knowledge that more than one famous name got their big break from a 'horizontal audition'. My sister is as human as the next person and as prone to make mistakes. I'm proud of the fact she made the decision she did.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 11   A trip up north

By now I was used to finding people, usually teenage girls, waiting outside the stage door after a matinee, looking for autographs. I always greeted them with a smile, still finding it hard to believe that anyone would want my signature just for being an actress. Emma had given me advice 'Always greet fans with a smile. Treat them well and they'll tell twenty people, but treat them badly and they'll tell fifty'. I've heard that advice given to everyone in business and after all, we were selling a product just as much as any retailer does. Anyway, as I've said, it was very flattering to get so much attention.

After one matinee I was signing autographs on my own, I think Emma had been delayed, and after I finished the last one, I heard a familiar voice behind me say “Can you sign my program too, please?”

I spun around, “Mary!” I exclaimed. “It's so good to see you, and you're looking so well.” We hugged each other.

“Yes I'm fine now,” she replied. “Mum promised me a trip to London as soon as I recovered fully, so that was a great incentive. By the way, I don't think you've ever met my mum?” She turned to an older woman who was standing back.

“Hello Mrs Green, it's very nice to meet you,” I said, thinking to myself 'does she know about me?'

“You too Harriet,” she replied. “When we knew what date we were coming to London, Mary insisted on letting David know, and he kindly arranged some tickets for us to see the show.”

I wondered how she felt about me taking the part which she probably felt was rightfully her daughter's.

“You were wonderful,” said Mary. “Honestly, you are better than I was in the part. I think you were born to play it.”

“Thank you, Mary,” I replied, a bit embarrassed by her enthusiasm, and thought it polite to say, “But you are a very good actress and I thought you played it very well.” I changed the subject. “Anyway, I understand you have a good part in the first play of the season, so that's something to look forward to.”

“Yes I can't wait to get back on the stage again,” she said. “And you, what will you do back in Bridchester?”

“Go back to being assistant stage manager I guess,” I replied. I didn't say that I'd be doing it as Harriet not Harry. There was time enough to reveal that later.

“I think that's a waste of your talent,” she replied. “I hope they have a play soon where we can both be on stage together.”

“Me too,” I replied.

“Well, we have to be going. We're off to see a West End show this evening.”

“Lucky you,” I said. “I won't have a chance to see any as we are performing when the other shows are on. It's been great seeing you, and I look forward to seeing you when I get back to Brid.”

We hugged again, and they walked off. I thought that Mrs Green probably knew about me, but she hadn't said anything to confirm it, so I was grateful for that.

The season continued and the 'house full' sign was up on nearly all of our performances. With only just over another week of the season to go, I decided that telling my Mum what I intended to do could not wait. I wanted to discuss my future as Harriet back at the Bridchester theatre with Duncan and David, but Mum needed to know first. I told Emma and she offered to go up to Brid with me. I thanked her but I said that if I was going to eventually transition, then I would have to face more difficult situations that this on my own, so the sooner I started the better. Nevertheless, I wasn't really looking forward to travelling up to Brid and back again solo, since Sunday was my only day off.

I phoned Mum and told her I was coming up to see her.

“Is something wrong?” she said. “You've only got another week to go in London.”

“Nothing's wrong, Mum. Life couldn't be better, but there's something I need to discuss with you and I'd rather do it face to face. Will you be home on Sunday?”

Mum said she would be home. I could tell from her voice that she wasn't convinced that there was nothing amiss.

“I'm fine Mum, really. I'm not pregnant if that's what you're thinking!”

We both had a laugh then and I said goodbye and ended the call.

Since my only day off was Sunday, I had no option but to sacrifice my day out with Reggie, much though I regretted it, so I phoned him and explained what I intended to do.

“Would you like me to accompany you up there?” he said. “It's been a while since I last saw my folks and they have been throwing out broad hints that it would be nice if I called in some time. I could drop you off at your mum's place, go and see my parents and then pick you up for the journey back.”

“Oh Reggie, would you? That would be so nice, and I wouldn't have to give up my day with you.”

“There's one problem, Richard is back now so I don't have use of his car, and anyway, it might look a bit cheeky taking it for such a long distance.”

“Well, I was planning to go by train,” I said and then had a thought, ”How would you feel about driving up if we hired a car? I would pay for it of course as you've already paid for so many things.”

To my relief, he didn't argue. “Well there's a car hire place in Southgate and I've used them a couple of times. They usually do me a good deal. I'm not considering buying my own car while I'm working in London, it's far cheaper and easier to take public transport. I'll give them a ring if you like, and get back to you. We only need a small car, and it would be cheaper on petrol too.”

He rang me back in an hour. “I've organised a Renault Clio for us. It's a cute little two-door, and very light on fuel. Now, what time do I pick you up?”

“Is eight-thirty too early?” I asked.

“No, that's fine. They'll let me pick it up late Saturday and I can return it Monday morning on my way to work.”

I was up early Sunday morning, having gone back to the hotel and straight to bed after the show. I had arranged with Emma that I would borrow the grey pleated skirt again, teamed with the white camisole under a satin top, sheer nude tights and black pumps with five inch heels that I had trained myself to wear without stumbling, over the last few weeks. I wanted to look smart and sophisticated but not over-dressed for my meeting with Mum. I took care with my make-up and hair and finally presented myself for my sister's approval.

“By the way, sis, I do intend to start buying clothes of my own,” I said. “You have been so kind in letting me wear your clothes, but it's time I had some of my own for you to borrow!”

I was down in the dining room at eight, waiting for the kitchen to open, and had a light breakfast before walking to the foyer to meet Reggie. As usual, he was right on time, and I kissed him on the cheek before we headed out to the car. He was right, it was a very cute car, something like the one I would consider buying for myself once I learned to drive.

We headed north, and only stopped once at one of the service areas to buy an over-priced coffee and sandwich, and we arrived outside my house at twelve o'clock. I had asked Reggie not to open the car door for me on this occasion as I was sure Mum would be watching from her window, and I thought it looked a bit 'toffee-nosed' to have a man open it for me. “Not that I don't love you doing it,” I assured him.

I turned to wave to Reggie and didn't have time to knock on the door before Mum opened it. I was right, she had been watching out for me.

“Goodness me, look at you!” she exclaimed. “Is that a new skirt?”

“Yes Mum, but it belongs to Emma, like almost everything I'm wearing,” I replied.

She laughed and beckoned me into the house. She asked if I'd eaten, and then suggested I sit in the lounge room while she made us some tea. Of course, when she arrived a few minutes later (she must have had the kettle boiling already) it was with a plate of sandwiches and cakes as well as the tea which she then proceeded to pour.

Once we were both settled with tea and some sandwiches on the little tables on either side of the armchairs, she looked at me and said. “Darling, I hope you don't mind me saying this but five weeks in London has really changed you. You looked like a sweet young girl when you left, but now you look like a sophisticated young lady. By the way, who was that in the car that you arrived in?”

“That was Reggie, my friend from school. Do you remember him?”

“Yes I do, a very nice boy, but what's he doing in London?”

So then I had to explain about Reggie and how he had found me and what he was doing. I'm sure Mum suspected we were going out together but she was too tactful to say so.

“Now what did you want to talk to me about that couldn't wait a week?”

“Well Mum, that's why I felt you should see me when I told you. I know it's only been a short time, but after living as a girl for five weeks, I've come to the conclusion that this is who I really am. Do you remember how at school I was different to the other boys, and it was Reggie who stopped them bullying me? I didn't know then why I preferred spending time with girls, and why I hated those rough sports, but now I do.

“As the season of 'Brutus' has been coming closer to an end, I realise that I'll soon be coming back to Bridchester again and being Harry, and it's something I can't bear to think about. Meeting up with Reggie and going out with him made me realise that I should have been a girl right from the start. It's not too late for me to change, so that's what I plan to do.”

I was close to tears by now. Mum moved to the couch, beckoned me over to sit beside her and put her arm around me.

“My darling, you may think I'm surprised but I'm not. Mothers notice things you know. It's possible that you may change your mind, although I think it's unlikely, but the only way you will find that out is by continuing to live as a girl for the time being.”

She smiled at me and continued “Do you remember that day that David came round and asked if you would step in and take on the part of Margaret in the play? Well, he rang me first. The poor man was at his wit's end and he was really scared to ask me if I thought you could play the part in case I laughed and told him he was crazy. I told him yes you could, although it had to be your decision whether you did so or not. Now can you think of any other boy your age who could convincingly play the part of a girl on the professional stage, and with only a few hours' notice? I certainly can't.”

I felt quite shocked. I understood why Mum hadn't warned me in advance. Obviously she hadn't told Emma either. The great thing was that I obviously had her support in what I planned to do, and that made me a very lucky person.

“Mum, I want to go and see our G.P. as soon as I get home. I've heard about something called Aldactone that I can take to help stop me from developing male characteristics. I don't know if I'll be allowed to take hormones yet, but I'm sure the doctor will tell me about that. Mum, are you sure you're alright about having two daughters instead of a son and daughter?” I asked.

Mum hugged me to her. “Darling, whatever happens, you are my child and I will always love and support you.”

“Oh Mum,” I said, and this time the tears flowed and I didn't try to stop them. I think Mum cried a little herself too. When I finally stopped crying I said “Oh goodness, I must look such a mess. I'd better go to the bathroom and freshen up.”

I picked up my handbag and went to do some running repairs to my make-up. When I returned, Mum smiled at me and said “Harriet, I don't think there's any doubt that you are a girl.”

We enjoyed another hour together chatting about how she was going and what I was doing in my limited spare time in London.

“Mum, I'm earning more money now so I can make a bigger contribution to the household budget. Are there any big bills that need paying?”

“Darling, that is so kind of you, but I'm managing on the pension at present. Don't forget I've only had myself to feed while you and Emma have been away,” she replied.

Just then my mobile phone rang. It was Reggie, so I excused myself and answered it. He asked how things were going and I said 'fine', and he asked if he could pick me up in about thirty minutes. I knew he wanted to get back to London before it got too late as we both had to work the next day, so I agreed. Mum said why didn't I ask him in for a few minutes when he arrived as it was years since she had seen him. When the car arrived I went out and asked Reggie to come in to meet my Mum.

“Hello Mrs Stow, it's nice to see you again,” said Reggie as he accepted Mum's invitation to come into the house.

“It's nice to see you too Reggie. Thank you so much for driving Harriet up to see me. How are your parents?”

'They're fine, thank you Mrs Stow. I was in a bit of trouble for not visiting them for a while, so I was pleased when Harriet suggested we drive up.”

After a few minutes talking about his job in London, Mum tactfully said “Well, I mustn't hold you up. I know you both have to get back to London for your work, but I hope you will call by again the next time you're in Bridchester.”

As Reggie walked down the path, Mum gave me a final hug and whispered in my ear “Reggie has grown into a fine young man, you're lucky to have him as a boyfriend.”

I opened my mouth to protest and then thought better of it and just said: “Yes I am.”

I don't know if Reggie forgot, but he opened the door of the car for me to get in. As I did so I was aware that Mum was watching, but it didn't seem to matter. I waved to her as we drove away and she waved back. Were there tears in her eyes? I suspect there were.

The trip back to London was uneventful. We stopped halfway to stretch our legs and have a coffee. While on the road I asked Reggie how much the car had cost to hire and he wanted to go halves as he had seen his parents too. We finally compromised that I would pay for the car hire and he would pay for the petrol and refreshments he'd already paid for. My salary was directly deposited into my bank account, so drawing out cash from a machine was no problem; however, I hoped that I could change my identity before too long as it would be a bit embarrassing to buy clothes with a card that said 'Harold Stow'.

We parked just around the corner from the hotel and had a deep and lingering kiss.

“When will I see you again?” said Reggie, aware that the show was entering its final week.

“The final show is next Saturday night and there will be the usual drinks and nibbles for the cast afterwards, so I've persuaded Emma that we stay in the hotel Sunday and go back to Brid on Monday,” I said. “She wants to do some shopping, so we can have the day together if you like.”

“Sounds perfect,” replied Reggie and we had another long kiss before he helped me out of the car and walked me to the hotel door.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 12   A star is born

Now that I had Mum's blessing for what I proposed to do, my next task was to speak to Duncan and David. Duncan had the use of a small office at the theatre, so I arranged a meeting with them both a couple of days later, after a morning rehearsal. I told Emma what I was going to do and she offered to come along but I said that this was something I should do myself. In retrospect, I'm sure they had no idea what I was about to ask them and probably thought it would be a request for more pay.

When I entered the office, my heart rate was at least one hundred beats a minute. I was glad that they had arranged three chairs in a circle, so I didn't have to face them over a desk. After we were seated, Duncan said: “Well, Harriet, what can we do for you?”

“I've come to ask you a favour, in confidence at the moment,” I began. “As you know, I've been acting the role of a female both on and off stage for over five weeks now. The thing is, I have come to realise that I am not acting, apart from on the stage that is. From a young age, I knew that I was different from other boys but I didn't really know where the difference lay. Now that I do, I intend to continue living as a girl full-time and seek medical advice about gender transition once I have been doing so long enough to convince my doctor that this is the right thing for me.”

Duncan and David looked at each other but said nothing, so I continued.

“The reason I wanted to see you today was to ask if you are able to continue employing me as assistant stage manager while I present as a female?”

“And what would you do if we said no?” enquired Duncan.

“Then I would have to regretfully tender my resignation as this is too important to me to abandon for the sake of a job, much though I love doing it.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” said Duncan. “Would you mind waiting outside the office for a couple of minutes while David and I confer?”

“Of course not,” I said and stood up. Rather to my surprise, Duncan and David stood up too. I had always known they are gentlemen but this acknowledgment of my female status came as something of a surprise.

I was only waiting outside for a few minutes when I was asked back into the office. I tried to read from their expressions what they had decided and was concerned that they looked rather serious.

Duncan said “David and I have discussed your request and we are very happy to offer you continuing employment as assistant stage manager. What is more, if roles arise in the future for which you are suitable, we hope that you will consider auditioning for them. The day you came to work for Apollo Players was a very fortunate one for us, and we really appreciate all that you've done for the company.”

Both their faces broke out into broad smiles as did mine. Then we all stood up and both men hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.

“How would you like to handle this?” asked David. “Would you like me to make an announcement to the company while you are not present? Quite frankly, by now the whole company is so used to seeing you as a female that I don't think it will make any difference to them. Oh, by the way, we intend to give you a pay rise when you go back to being ASM. It can't be as high as the actors but it will be more than you have been earning until now.”

So that was how the Apollo Players came to know that Harriet Stow would now be employed by the company. David was right, it made absolutely no difference to how people treated me. Thinking back I could hardly have worked for a better organisation in which to change how I presented myself. Everyone was so used to seeing cast members appear in different guises that I'm sure the general attitude was 'So Harriet is staying on, so what?'

On Wednesday of our final week, we had some free time as there was only an evening performance. The previous day, Emma had said “Now that Harriet is staying, you need some more clothes of your own. I suggest some more sets of underwear so you only have to wash clothes once a week. Most girls of your age would have a basic wardrobe, so you have some catching up to do. I recommend that you don't go out and buy a lot of clothes at first since fashions change, and also you will need time to find out what suits you. I know you prefer to wear skirts and dresses, and that is understandable, but there are times when trousers or jeans are more practical. Another suggestion I have is, if you have no objection to wearing good second-hand clothes, you can find some lovely clothes and shoes at places like the British Red Cross shop in Chelsea or the Oxfam shop, at a fraction of their original price. Some of them are scarcely worn; I even found a lovely skirt with the price tag still on it.”

“How could that happen?” I asked.

“Well, it either came from a shop that was getting rid of last season's stock that they couldn't sell, or someone bought it, decided it didn't suit them and never got around to taking it back. Then when they decided to purge their closet out it went. Oh, by the way, never be afraid to take something back if you buy it and decided it doesn't suit you; women do that all the time.”

'Thank goodness for older sisters. I'm learning so much about being a woman,' I thought.

So off we went to the Red Cross shop and for less than two hundred pounds and with Emma's advice, I came away with two lovely woolen skirts one of which I planned to wear when I spent my last Sunday with Reggie for a while, a lemon yellow cotton dress that I wouldn't be wearing until summer, but was too good to pass up, a pair of grey linen trousers and two pairs of jeans. I also found two pairs of pumps, one with three-inch and one with five-inch heels. Finally, I bought a bigger suitcase in which to carry my clothes back to Bridchester!

The Saturday of the final performance arrived. The 'house full' sign went up and some people who had left their run to purchase tickets too late were turned away disappointed. The curtain came down to a standing ovation and all the female members of the cast, myself included were presented with large bouquets of flowers on stage. Duncan and David came on-stage to make a brief speech thanking everyone, cast and crew, and of course especially pointing out Sir Edgar Blackley who was seated in the Royal Box together with his wife, son and two daughters. I couldn't help wondering if his wife knew about his philandering, because I was sure Emma wasn't his only conquest. I decided she probably did and like some women in her situation chose to ignore it and not jeopardise the comfortable life she led. I did not mentally criticise her for that; perhaps she had lovers too, and since women are far more discrete than men, if she did, Sir Edgar probably knew nothing about it.

The 'after-show' party was then held for the cast and crew, and the Blackley family attended. I was introduced to his wife by Sir Edgar. While he made no mention of my gender, thank goodness, I had little doubt that she knew all about me.

“Very well done, my dear,” she said. “I had tears in my eyes when the curtain came down at the end of Act Two.”

“Thank you Lady Blackley,” I said. “I've loved playing the part.”

It was well after midnight by the time we got back to the hotel and got into bed. I had indulged in a couple of glasses of champagne and I confess it had gone to my head a bit, so in no time I was fast asleep.

Reggie had asked where I wanted to go for our last Sunday outing, and I suggested Regents Park. I wanted to visit the London Zoo, but I knew there was a lot more to the park than that. Emma had told me that she was catching up with an old school friend who was now married with two children and had an invitation to her house in Chelsea for the afternoon and dinner.

“I won't be back at the hotel until at least nine o'clock, maybe later,” she said. At the time I wondered why she made a point of telling me that.

We'd had a wonderful run of sunny weather for our Sundays out, and this was no exception. I decided to wear my new (if second-hand) green woollen skirt with black opaque tights and my new pumps with three-inch heels. Emma loaned me her leather jacket to wear over her white silk top with my own new white camisole underneath. The weather might be cool but I felt very warm and comfortable.

Reggie was on time as usual and we walked to the station and took the tube to Camden Town station and enjoyed the fifteen-minute walk hand in hand to the zoo. Zoos are so much nicer nowadays. Mum told me how they used to have small cages where animals paced up and down behind the bars all day, but now they have large enclosures which resemble as far as possible their natural habitat.

Something unusual happened as we were walking along one of the paths between enclosures. A family consisting of a mother, father and two teenage girls was walking towards us. I noticed that the girls seemed to be looking at me and chatting animatedly first with each other and then with their parents. We moved to the side of the path to let them pass, but they stopped and the father who looked a bit embarrassed said. “Excuse me, I hope you won't think me rude but my eldest daughter is convinced that you performed in the play 'Dear Brutus' that she went to see with her school last Tuesday afternoon.”

“Yes, I played the part of Margaret, the 'might-have-been girl'. I'm surprised you recognised me out of costume,” I said with a smile.

“I thought you were awesome Miss Stow,” said the older girl. “All the girls were crying when you lost your father.” She blushed and continued “I'd love to be an actor myself.”

“I'm sure your parents would never forgive me if I didn't point out that acting is hard work, and you have to audition for every role, not always successfully. Everyone advises that you should have another job to fall back on if you go through lean times. That happens to everyone, even some of the most famous actors, so my advice is to keep studying hard and make sure you get some qualifications for another job,” I said.

Both parents smiled their thanks at my little lecture to their daughter, given as though I had years of acting experience! She solemnly promised that she would take my advice to heart.

She hesitated for a moment and then said. "Miss Stow, could I possibly have a picture with you and my sister please?"

"Jennifer, that's a bit cheeky of you," said her mother.

"No, that's fine, I'm happy to oblige," I said.

Her father had a camera slung around his neck, so we walked to the side of the path to get a nice background; the two girls posed on either side of me, and their dad took our picture. To be honest I was flattered to be recognised. I know there are some 'stars' who object to being approached, but I think they should remember that without the fans they wouldn't be getting paid.

The family thanked me for my kindness and went on their way. Reggie, who had stood back while this encounter went on took my hand again and said: “I will have to get used to dating a star!”

I grimaced. “What are the odds of that happening in a city of over eight million people?” I said.

“Well a few thousand people have seen you on stage by now,” Reggie replied. “Anyway, I was proud of how you handled the family.”

We continued our tour of the zoo, had some lunch and afterwards walked up Primrose Hill to look over London.

“I'm going to miss London,” I murmured.

“And me?” asked Reggie.

“Especially you,” I replied as he hugged me and we kissed. The sun was setting and the air was starting to get chilly. I suddenly remembered what Emma had told me about being out until late evening and realised why.

“It's getting a bit chilly to stay out much longer,” said Reggie. “What would you like to do now?”

“Would you call me a 'brazen hussy' if I mentioned that Emma is out at an old girlfriend's place until late evening, so we could have the hotel room to ourselves for a few hours?” I said.

Reggie smiled “I rather like the idea of being with a 'brazen hussy' in a hotel room,” he said.

So it was that we had a very enjoyable evening back at Finsbury Park. Emma rang me about nine-thirty. I answered the phone and hoped she didn't notice that I was breathing hard. It was to let me know that her friend's husband was driving her back to the hotel and that she would be there at about ten o'clock. That gave Reggie just enough time to get dressed and for us to share one last kiss. It was a bittersweet moment. I knew I'd be seeing him again, but it wouldn't be for some weeks. As for myself, there was no point in getting dressed again, so I removed my remaining clothes, put on my nightie, straightened the bed and started packing my suitcase ready for our trip back to Bridchester the next day.

When Emma arrived I asked how her day had been and she asked about mine – 'Fine' being the answer to both questions. I had little doubt that she knew Reggie had spent time with me in our room, but then she had indirectly given us her blessing when she made a point of telling me for how long she would be out.

I climbed into bed as she got undressed and imagined myself in Reggie's arms once more before going to sleep.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 13   One small step for a girl

It was Monday morning and we had finished our packing. My bigger suitcase came in handy. Why is it that whenever you go on a trip, you always bring home more than you left with? I took Emma's advice and wore my grey trousers and a woollen jumper over a silk camisole for the trip back. We went downstairs for breakfast and prepared to leave our home of six weeks. By now the staff felt like old friends, so we left a generous tip to be distributed amongst them, and rather than tackle the tube with our suitcases, we had phoned Tom the taxi driver two days earlier and arranged for him to take us down to Kings Cross.

Tom turned up on time and loaded up the suitcases for us.

“Of 'ome then. 'Ow long as it been since you came down,” he asked.

“Can you believe it's six weeks, Tom?” I said. “We're going to miss London.”

“Who was it said 'When a man is tired of London he is tired of life',” he said.

“Samuel Johnson,” I replied. “You'll find it in the book 'Boswell's Life of Johnson.”

“Never been one for books meself,” he said. “But 'e knew what 'e was talking about.”

On the way to the station, my mobile phone beeped and I fished it out of my handbag. It was a text from Reggie and read 'Thx 4 a WONDERFUL day. Have a safe trip. Pls ring when u get home. Love Reggie xxx'

I replied 'It WAS a day of wonder. Glad you thought so too. Will ring you when home. Love Harriet xxx'

Funnily enough this was the first time we had used the word 'love' in our texts and had never said it to each other. Perhaps we were too nervous to go that step.

Emma and I managed to make our way through the crowds at Kings Cross railway station. Thank goodness all big cases have wheels on them now or we would never have managed it. The train drew smoothly out of the station right on time, heading north. As I looked out of the window at the passing scenery, mostly light industrial units and the backyards of houses at first, I knew I was going to miss London, and most of all Reggie, and wondered how I would settle down back in Bridchester. Emma seemed a bit subdued as well.

Perhaps not surprisingly I slept for a lot of the journey. Emma had to wake me up when it was time to change trains at Doncaster. When we reached Bridchester we hired another taxi to take us and our luggage home. The front door of our house opened the moment the taxi came to a halt and there was Mum almost running down the path to greet us. She hugged us both and told us the kettle was already boiled and asked if we had eaten, her words tumbling over each other. I felt embarrassed. We had been in London for six weeks having a great time, and it was obvious that Mum was lonely and no doubt had missed us dreadfully. I was glad that I had made my fleeting trip the previous week.

After having tea and a sandwich, I dreaded the thought of going up to my room. I knew it was full of alien things and clothes that belonged to a boy called Harry who was never coming home. However, when I did climb the stairs, dragging my suitcase behind me and pushed open the door I had a surprise. There was a new duvet cover on the bed in feminine shades of pink. A dressing table stood in front of the window, and when I opened the wardrobe, all Harry's clothes had gone. I sat down on the bed feeling stunned. Then there was a knock on the half-open door. I looked up and Mum was standing there.

“I hope you like it,” she said. “The dressing table is second-hand I'm afraid, but every girl needs one and I hope it will do for now.”

“Yes, thank you, it looks lovely,” I managed to get out. “What happened to...?” I gestured in the direction of the wardrobe.

“Packed away in boxes up in the attic,” she said. “I got our neighbour Mr Wilkins to put them up there. He doesn't know what's in them. The delivery man from the shop brought the dressing table upstairs. He's not someone we know.”

Dear Mum, she anticipated how I would feel and had done her best to make my home-coming special and had succeeded wonderfully. I stood up and gave her a hug.

“Thanks Mum, it's just perfect,” I whispered.

After she had gone downstairs, I rang Reggie to tell him I was safely home and also about the change in my bedroom.

“Your mum's a star,” he said, and then after a pause “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” I said. “I'm back at work tomorrow, but I'm going to come down and see you as soon as I can.”

Later that evening David rang, partly to make sure we were back, but he also had something else to say.

“Harriet, I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to wait until lunchtime tomorrow before coming down to the theatre? That way I can tell everyone who wasn't in London and knows you, about your changed status.”

“That's very thoughtful of you David,” I replied. “Otherwise they might think that I can't give up the character of Margaret.”

He laughed at that and hung up. I'm so lucky to work with such nice people.

When I did arrive at the theatre the following day, dressed down in my grey trousers, more practical for work, everyone who hadn't been to London just said “Hello Harriet, welcome back”, or “Hi Harriet, how was London”. It was just as if this is the way I had always appeared. If there was anyone I was concerned at meeting, it was Mary. Of course, it hadn't been my fault that I had taken over her role in 'Brutus', but for some silly reason, I felt a bit guilty about it. I needn't have worried, she was really nice to me, putting her arms around me, giving me a big hug and whispering in my ear “Welcome to the sisterhood.”

The Apollo Players' first production of the year was 'A Life' by Hugh Leonard about a civil servant with six months to live who looks back on his life, its successes and disappointments. Past and present meet, and the characters appear as their present age and also as they were when young. Mary had been given the role of the character Mary, as a young girl, the only woman Drumm really loved. It was quite a substantial part and I was sure it was going to make up for missing out on 'Brutus'. Ross had the lead role of Drumm and Emma was to play the younger Dorothy.

I took up my position again as assistant stage manager. I took 'the book' home with me that first day and read through the entire script. I felt the tiniest bit jealous of Mary. It's a part I would love to do, but you can't have your appendix out twice, and anyway, she deserved the part as she is a good actress. It would also seem very selfish to want to take over from her again.

As with 'Brutus' after a couple of days in the wings, prompting where needed, I found I had already committed most of the play to memory.

I was still in regular contact with Reggie by phone, text, and email. I was speaking to him on the phone one day and telling him about the new play and Mary's part in it and he said. “She'd better be careful you don't trip her over and take the part for yourself!”

“Reggie! What a terrible thing to say. When we say 'break a leg', it's for good luck. Anyway, I think she'd go on with crutches if she had to!”

Needless to say, nothing bad happened to Mary, and she performed the role very well. I confess I missed being on stage, but I was sure I'd get another chance soon. In the meantime, I made an appointment to see my local G.P.

I decided that for my visit to Dr Maria Wilson I would dress as a girl of course, but not overdo it. The last thing I wanted to do was look like a drag queen. I wore my green woollen skirt with black opaque tights, and the white silk top with the camisole underneath. I wore make-up but not too much, and by now my false nails were a fixture. One more thing, I had been to the local jeweller and had my ears pierced, and was now wearing gold studs in them until they healed.

Mum offered to come with me to visit the doctor and I was in two minds as to whether it was the best thing to do or not, but she seemed to want to come so I said 'yes'.

Perhaps acting professionally on stage had given me confidence because I walked up to the receptionist and said in a quiet voice “My name is Harriet Stow, but you have me registered as Harold Stow. I've come to see Dr Wilson regarding my gender identity, so I would be obliged if you would refer to me as Harriet and let her know in advance of my preferred name.”

The receptionist looked at me and said “Of course. A friend of mine was in London recently and saw you in a play there. She said you were very good.”

'Goodness,' I thought to myself. 'I can't believe this'

“Yes, that's right,” I said “I'm part of the Apollo Players theatre group. That's why it's very important to me that this visit is kept confidential.”

“You need have no worries on that account, Miss Stow,” she said rather primly. “We consider patient confidentiality to be of the highest priority here.”

'Ooops!' I thought, and out loud said “I'm sorry if I offended you. I might be over-reacting but this is very important to me.”

Her face softened and she said “That's alright Miss Stow. We all have a part to play and I hope we do it well here.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I said while thinking 'A part to play? Does she think I'm just acting?'

I sat down beside Mum and picked up a ten-year-old magazine.

“Is everything alright?” she asked. It's amazing how she picks up vibes.

“Everything's fine Mum.”

Five minutes later, Dr Wilson poked her head around the door and said “Miss Stow?”

I got up, seemingly calm and collected, but my heart was beating about twice resting speed and I hoped she wouldn't start off with a pulse and blood pressure check.

In her consulting room, she indicated a seat beside her desk and looking at her computer screen said “The last time you were here was two years ago with a severe upper respiratory infection. Obviously things have changed since then. Would you like to tell me about it?”

I set about giving her a potted version of my life, from being bullied at school for being a 'sissy' to getting the job at the theatre, my role in 'Brutus' and how I was required to live full-time as a girl and how I felt about it. One thing I didn't mention was Reggie as I felt my relationship with him was not relevant to this consultation.

“Being an actress has its 'pros' and 'cons',” I said. “On the one hand it means that I observe how other women talk and act and that has helped me to blend in, but on the other hand, I realise that some people may think that I am still acting a role that I'm reluctant to give up. All I can say is that I wouldn't be here speaking to you now if that was the case. I truly believe that I have discovered why I felt confused as a child. Dressing as a young woman feels totally natural to me. I don't get any sexual thrill out of doing it although I must admit that I love the variety of clothes that are now available to me.”

Dr Wilson sat back in her chair. “You are the second young person who has come to me with a similar story in the last six months. I have done some research on the internet and it seems that an increasing number of people who find their birth gender at odds with their feelings of gender identity are seeking help. I have to warn you that the amount of medical assistance for what is termed 'gender dysphoria' is woefully inadequate in this country, and others too I believe.

“What I must also say to you is that six or seven weeks is a very short time to be presenting as a woman, and I think it is necessary for you to continue living this way for another three months at least before any specialist will consider treatment for you. I know that your mind is made up, but it is very important to give yourself the time to confirm this. It may surprise you to learn that there have been instances where people who consider themselves transgender have gone a long way along the path to transitioning, then changed their minds and tried to blame the doctors for in some way coercing them.

“What I propose is this; I would like to do a preliminary examination of you first. It will involve your genital area too. Are you alright with that, and would you like a chaperone to be present? I can ring for our practice nurse to come in. It is the usual procedure.”

I replied that if it was the normal procedure, I was happy for her to call in the nurse, which she proceeded to do.

In the meantime she asked me to go behind the screen in the corner, undress and lie on the couch.

“There is a blanket you can use if you like,” she said.

When she and the nurse came in, I was lying there naked except for my panties. There didn't seem much point in using the blanket as it would have to be removed for the examination. At this point she did check my pulse and blood pressure. I'm sure both were a bit raised but she probably expected that. She looked at my breast forms and said “They are very realistic aren't they.”

“Yes, I am quite used to wearing them now. I would feel strange without them.”

She checked over my body and said: “I would now like to make an external examination of your genital area if you give me permission.”

I thought to myself that it was likely I would have to experience a lot of this so I told her to go ahead. After a few more minutes she indicated that she had finished and that after I got dressed she would discuss her findings with me. She and the nurse then left and I put my clothes back on.

When I came out from behind the screen and sat down again, Dr Wilson was busy tapping away on the keyboard.

“My preliminary findings are that you are a healthy young person. You have normal male organs but I hope you don't mind me saying they are on the small side. I would say that your development in that regard is less than would be expected for someone of your age. However this could change, so what I am proposing to do is to put you on a course of spironolactone, which is called by the brand name Aldactone. One of its effects is as an anti-androgen. That means it works against the effects of male hormones which can make changes to your body. It's completely reversible, so if you stop taking it, the androgens can start work again. I would like to take blood for some tests now, give you a script for three months of Aldactone which you can start taking after I get the test results back and ring you to give you the go-ahead. When I see you again, if you still wish to proceed, I will refer you to an endocrinologist and specialist in gender dysphoria, and if they agree, you can then start taking hormones that will start you on your way to transitioning.

With that, she took some tubes with coloured tops from a rack, assembled a needle into a holder and after placing a tourniquet around my arm, selected a vein and inserted the needle. One by one she pushed the tops of the tubes into the other end of the needle in the holder and I watched them fill with blood, drawn in by the vacuum within the tubes. When she had labelled them all, Dr Wilson said “I believe I saw your mother waiting outside. Would you like me to bring her in and have a word with her about what I am proposing?”

“Yes please,” I said. I could hardly believe that my journey to womanhood was beginning, even if slowly at first.

Dr Wilson brought Mum in and gave her a précis of what she had told me.

“Are you comfortable with what Harriet is proposing to do Mrs Stow?”

“I want her to live a happy life and if this is what she wants, I will support her in any way I can,” said Mum. I could have got up and hugged her.

“I'm glad to hear it. It makes such a difference when people in Harriet's situation have family support.”

I am pleased to say that a couple of days later I received a message from Dr Wilson to say that she was satisfied with my test results and that I could start on the Aldactone. Taking that tablet felt like the first step on my journey to becoming a woman.

To be continued

I would like to acknowledge the continuing 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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 14   The Audition

That evening when I came home from rehearsals with Emma I saw a letter addressed to Miss Harriet Stow waiting for me. That was the very first letter I had ever received addressed this way, and I felt like keeping the envelope as a memento.

It was written by Sir Edgar's secretary Louise and read as follows:

Dear Harriet,

I hope you are keeping well. Sir Edgar has asked me to write and inform you that following the success of the Apollo Players' production of 'Dear Brutus' he has been inundated with requests to stage another production of the play, especially from schools that were unable to get tickets for the previous production. He therefore proposes to mount a new production at the Finsbury Park theatre, starting in about a month's time and running for about three months.

In view of the success of your role as Margaret, he invites you to audition with a view to playing the part in the new production. Because of the tight schedule, auditions will be held at the theatre next Wednesday.

I realise that your mother may have some concerns about you spending time in London on your own, and so, if you are successful in being cast in the role, my husband and I who live in Wood Green, not far from Finsbury Park would be happy to offer you board in our spare bedroom for a nominal sum for the duration of the play's run.

Please email me as soon as you make a decision whether you would be interested in the role.

Sir Edgar sends his best wishes to Mrs Stow and to Emma.

Yours sincerely,

Louise Burton.

I read the letter through twice, my heart pounding, and then I handed it to Mum and to Emma to read.

“What do you think I should do?” I asked them both.

“This is a great opportunity, I think you should take it,” said Emma.

“But I've just been given my old job back. I would feel that I'm letting Duncan and David down. Besides, do you think I might be a 'one-trick pony'? After all, this is the only role I've ever played on stage.”

“Harriet, you have to learn something about the theatrical world. It isn't like other jobs where you stay years in one position. When an opportunity like this shows up you should grab it with both hands. Duncan and David understand that, perfectly,” said Emma.

“But I mightn't even get the role,” I said.

“Believe me, that role was made for you. Why do you think Sir Edgar is inviting you to audition for it? You've got a ninety-five percent chance of landing it,” said Emma.

“Well I still think I should speak to Duncan and David,” I said. “What do you think Mum?”

“I think your sister is right. This is a great opportunity. Tell me honestly, would you rather be on stage or standing in the wings?” said Mum.

I blushed. That was a no-brainer.

“I thought so,” said Mum. “My only concern is about you being in London on your own, but staying with Sir Edgar's secretary sounds like a great idea. I would have to meet her and her husband and see their place of course. Then there is Reggie. I'm sure he will look after you. So go and see Duncan and David tomorrow and then contact Louise straight away.”

I felt myself reddening again. If I were honest, the thought of seeing Reggie on a regular basis had immediately come into my mind upon reading the letter.

The following day I took the letter with me when I went to the theatre. I asked David if I could see him in his office during a break in rehearsals, and handed him the letter to read. When he had done so, he sat back and looked at me.

“This is a wonderful opportunity, Harriet. What would you like to do about it?”

I blushed. “I've spoken to Mum and Emma about it and they think I should go for it, but I feel embarrassed because you've only just given me my old job back, and if I leave I feel like I'm letting you down.”

“Well of course if you leave we will have to find another assistant stage manager, and there's no doubt we will miss you, but I think this is too good a chance to refuse. Theatre isn't like other jobs, you know. You have to take your opportunities as they come.”

He was saying more or less the same thing as Emma.

“I think you prefer being on stage to backstage, am I right?”

“Well yes, if I have the choice,” I said, blushing again.

“Then go for it, and good luck,” he said.

When I stood up, he did too and gave me a hug. “You'll be on the West End stage one day, I have no doubt about it,” he said.

When I got home, I emailed Louise to tell her I would be attending the audition. Mum agreed that she would come down to London with me and meet Louise and her husband and see their house, so if I was given the role a decision could be made immediately on whether I would be staying with them. I did feel a bit nervous. If I took on the role again it would be with a completely new group of people that I'd never met before. However, I realised that this would be my life if I wanted to continue as a professional actress. I would be regularly auditioning and not always getting roles, but when I did it would often be with people that I had never met before.

Mum pointed out that we needed to go to London the day before the auditions took place so it might be a good idea to take a room for three nights at the hotel where we had stayed the previous run.

“Why three?” I asked.

“Well, you need a night's rest before the audition, then when you get the part which we should know late Wednesday, on Thursday we can arrange to see Louise's house where she's invited you to stay, so three nights.”

“Don't you mean 'if' I get the part rather than 'when'? I said.

“Positive thinking Harriet, positive thinking. There can't be another person in Britain who knows that part better than you do.”

I felt myself blushing, but what could I say? She was probably right.

“Do you mind if we share a room?” she asked. The question slightly shocked me. I couldn't imagine her saying that if I had still been in Harry mode.

“No, not at all,” I replied, hoping she hadn't notice the pause before I answered, but she had.

“Only if you are comfortable doing so,” she said.

“Well Emma and I shared a room for about six weeks and it didn't cause any problems, so no, I'm fine with it.”

“Alright, can you ring up the hotel and book it then?”

“Sure,” I replied and went off to make the call.

We didn't need to take a lot of clothes as it was only for three days. I had been wondering what to wear for the audition and was almost overwhelmed when on the day before leaving for London David asked me if I would like to borrow one of the costumes I had been wearing throughout the Apollo production.

“You will feel comfortable in it and that will help with the audition,” he said. I felt tears starting in my eyes as I gave him a big hug and whispered: “Thank you so much, how can I repay you.”

“Don't mention it,” he smiled. “Just you go and get that part.”

I had been in regular contact with Reggie since I returned to Bridchester. I really missed him and certainly this was a factor in my decision to audition and get back to London. When he heard about it, of course he asked if we could meet up. I could hardly leave Mum on her own, so I suggested he might like to come and have tea with us at the hotel on the second night we were there. Understanding the situation, he was happy with that. That was yet another thing I loved about him, he was far more sensitive to situations than the average man.

The following day we headed down to London. At least I was going to a familiar place and Mum had been there several times in the past. I couldn't deny that I was feeling nervous. Apart from that 'sort of audition' I did when I stepped in for Mary, I had never had a real one. However I realised that this would be a regular part of life if I wanted to continue my acting career, so I had better get used to it.

We arrived at Finsbury Park station and this time it wasn't Tom who picked us up. Guessing that all the drivers from that area knew each other I asked our driver whose name was Fred, how Tom was.

“'E's fine. Him and 'is missus are 'aving a couple of weeks at Benidorm to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary.”

“Well, when you see him could you mention that Harriet Stow and her mum said 'hello',” I said.

“Ain't you one of the actresses he drove around a bit?” said Fred.

“Yes that's right. I'm actually down here to audition at the Mercury Theatre again. It's the same play but a new production. I'll probably see him again if I get the job.”

“Well 'e's back next week so I'll let 'im know.”

By now we were drawing up at the hotel, so I gave Fred ten pounds and thanked him. He responded by lifting our suitcases out of his cab. Thank goodness they all have wheels on them nowadays, so it was no problem for us to take them into the hotel reception where we were greeted like old friends.

“I've put you in one of the twin share rooms we've just renovated,” said Shirley the receptionist. We were getting the royal treatment.

After settling into our room and freshening up, we went down to the dining room for a light meal.

“I know it's only eight o'clock,” I said to Mum after we finished, “But I'm feeling rather tired after the journey so I think I'll turn in.”

“That's alright darling,” said Mum. “I'll be up a bit later.”

Up in the room I undressed, put on my nightie, removed my make-up, washed my face, put on a little cleansing cream and brushed my teeth. I'm fairly sure that five minutes after I got into my bed I was fast asleep. I certainly didn't hear Mum enter the room.

I was awake at seven o'clock the next morning feeling fresh and well-rested. Mum was still asleep or pretending to be, so I went into the bathroom for a shower, taking my bra and panties and my dressing gown with me. We had organised breakfast to be delivered to our room as I didn't want to dress and then change again into my costume. It arrived on time at a quarter to eight and by now Mum was awake, so we sat at the little table in our room and feasted on orange juice, corn flakes, scrambled eggs on toast and more toast with marmalade, all washed down with coffee. Well at least Mum did. I suddenly found that nerves were getting to me again and I only ate half the scrambled eggs and some of the toast with marmalade.

Mum did her best to keep my nerves in check, but it wasn't easy. I knew everyone expected me to get the part, but what if there were other contenders and they were as good as, or better than me?

At nine o'clock I was dressed and had done my make-up. I was in two minds whether to go for ordinary make-up or stage make-up and compromised between the two. We had asked Fred to come and pick us up at nine-thirty and he was five minutes early. Sitting in the lounge I know I attracted a few curious stares from other guests with my make-up and rather old-fashioned dress. I think by that evening the word had got around about me being an actress dressed for an audition.

We arrived at the theatre ten minutes later, and the first person we bumped into was Sir Edgar.

“Harriet my dear, you look delightful,” he beamed and I blushed as he kissed me on the cheek.

“This is my mother, Sir Edgar,” I said.

“Delighted to meet you Mrs Stow. Come to give moral support?”

Mum managed a tight-lipped smile “Something like that, Sir Edgar.” she responded. Mum could see through an old phony like Sir Edgar in an instant.

“Come along, let me introduce you to the director Mark Stevens,” Sir Edgar said. We followed him into the stalls and down to the front of the stage where an earnest young man was in deep conversation with two other men. He stopped when he saw Sir Edgar approaching like a ship in full sail.

“Mark, dear boy, this is Harriet Stow that I've told you so much about.”

Mark smiled and extended a hand to shake mine. I wondered just how much he had been told about me. If Sir Edgar had been singing my praises maybe this would work to my disadvantage. I felt my stomach lurch, but managed to keep a smile on my face.

“Thanks for coming all the way to London, Harriet. I have to tell you that there is another contender for the role but guess you have the advantage of experience.”

“I'm sure you'll pick the best candidate for the role,” said Sir Edgar and I felt like telling him to shut up, but of course I didn't.

Mark indicated where the people waiting to audition were seated, a few rows back in the stalls. There was only one teenage girl among them so it was obvious that she was going to be my rival.

Mum said “I think I'll make myself scarce; I'll only make you nervous. I'll come back in half an hour. Good luck.” Oops – those fateful words, but then she wasn't to know.

I went to sit down next to the teenager.

“Hello, I'm Harriet, how are you?” I said. “Are you auditioning for the part of Margaret?”

“Yes, I am. I'm Elspeth by the way. I'm so nervous, how about you?”

“Me too,” I said, “It doesn't get any easier.” I thought to myself that was a bit unfair making out I'd had plenty of audition experience.

“I really need this job,” said Elspeth, “This is my fifth audition with no luck.”

Oh dear, that was guaranteed to make me feel sorry for her, but were we both playing games here?

The auditions started. I noticed that most of the people, Elspeth included, were holding copies of the script. “Don't you have a script?” she said.

“Err no, I've played it before,” I said.

“Oh,” was her response, “Is that the costume you wore?”

“Yes, they kindly loaned it to me for the audition.” I felt like I had an unfair advantage from the start. In addition, I was fairly sure that Sir Edgar had made his preference known to Mark. Perhaps we were just going through the motions.

Experienced as I was with the script, it was interesting to watch as the various contenders played their parts. Some were definitely better than others and I could make an educated guess about who would get the parts.

Then suddenly it was our turn. We both walked up on the stage and Mark said he would play the part of Dearth. “I'll take you first please Elspeth,” he said, so I walked off the stage into the wings.

I have to admit that Elspeth was quite good. She stumbled over some of the lines, but then she hadn't had a lot of time to learn them. Mark only went about half-way through the scene and then stopped.

“Thank you Elspeth, that was very good. We'll be in touch later today,” he said. She didn't look too happy as she walked off. Presumably, they'd said the same thing at the other auditions where she'd be unsuccessful.

“Harriet, can you come on stage now?” he called out, and I walked out from the wings.

What was concerning me was that he expected me to be good after all the practice I'd had, so I had to meet or preferably exceed his expectations. That's what was making me feel so nervous. I'm sure Mark realised that I was wearing the costume from the previous production but he said nothing.

He commenced from the start of the scene and I doubted that he'd go to the end with my big dramatic moment, and in that I was right. When we finally stopped he said.

“That was very good Harriet, just don't try too hard.”

My heart sank. Yes, it was true I was trying to impress him and perhaps I was going 'over the top' a bit.

“I'll be in touch this evening,” he said, more or less as he'd said to Elspeth.

I thanked him and walked down the stairs to the front of the stalls. I saw Mum sitting at the back, so I picked up my coat and walked up to her. When we headed into the street, I said to her “What do you think? 'Over the top'?”

She smiled at me “Maybe a little, but I'm sure they make allowances for the stress of an audition. I believe even the most experienced actors and actresses get nerves.”

That didn't exactly fill me with confidence. We went for lunch at the local cafe, although again I wasn't very hungry. Afterwards we had a look in the shops, and then went back to the hotel to wait for the phone call.

I felt quite exhausted and lay on the bed for a bit, while Mum read a book. When the telephone rang about six o'clock I jumped and then with a trembling hand lifted the receiver.

“Harriet Stow speaking,” I said.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 15   London with Mum

“Hello Harriet, it's Reggie. I've been held up at work but I should be there by seven.”

“Oh hello Reggie, that's fine. There's no need to rush.”

“Have you heard about the part yet?” he asked.

“No, I'm waiting for a phone call.”

“O.k., in that case I'd better get off the line. I'll see you soon.”

I put down the receiver and about five seconds later it rang again. Strangely, I'd stopped trembling. Perhaps that was Reggie's influence on me. This time it was Mark.

“Hello Harriet, I'm ringing to offer you the part of Margaret in our production.”

“Oh thank you Mark, I'm very happy to accept,” I replied. “Do you know when rehearsals will start?”

“Monday next week,” he replied. “I hope that's not too much of a rush, but we don't have much time to spare. Oh, by the way, I'm offering Elspeth, the other girl who auditioned, the job of understudy to you. I'd appreciate it if you would take her under your wing and help her with the lines.”

“Of course,” I replied. It seemed very grand to have an understudy, but I knew this was the usual practice in London productions. Since she was having so much trouble getting parts, I was fairly sure Elspeth would take the understudy position.

He rang off and Mum was beaming. “See? I told you there was no need to worry.”

“I'd better contact Louise now to see if we can visit her sometime tomorrow.” She had given me her home phone number, so I called it.

“Hi Louise, I've just been told that I've got the part in 'Brutus', so would there be a convenient time tomorrow when Mum and I could visit you at your home? Rehearsals start next Monday so it's all a bit of a rush.”

“Congratulations Harriet,” she replied. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“We're staying one more night and going home Friday morning. Then it will be a rush to pack and back again on Sunday.”

“Goodness me. Would five o'clock tomorrow be alright with you? Sir Edgar often asks me to work back, but I'll explain that I have to leave a bit early. You've got my address haven't you.”

“Five would be fine Louise, since I've got a surprise for Mum," I whispered the last part. "We'll look forward to seeing you then.”

I glanced at my watch. “Goodness, look at the time and I haven't changed!”

Mum laughed. “Well I think I'm alright as I am, but I know you want to look your best for Reggie, so I'll go down to the lounge and wait for you there.” Naturally I blushed, but she was right, I did want to look my best.

As soon as she had left the room I stripped off my stage costume and underclothes and jumped in the shower. Three minutes later I was out and drying myself. Even though there was no chance of Reggie seeing it, I had brought down some rather sexy black underwear. I've heard it said that just knowing she's wearing it makes a woman feel more desirable. Then I sat down and put on a pair of sheer nude tights. Make-up came next and thank goodness I was now experienced and what used to take me half an hour or more now only took ten minutes. Then I put on a black full slip with French lace at the bust and hem. Slips are so feminine, I wonder why more women don't wear them, but then again, many don't wear stockings or tights any more and I think they do wonders for a woman's legs. Finally came my dress, well Emma's dress really, cocktail length and of emerald green silk. Now that my ears were pierced I could wear some pearl earrings and also a pearl necklace that Mum loaned me, and finally some black court shoes with four-inch heels. I did a twirl in front of the mirror and liked what I saw. I hope Reggie liked it too. Then I picked up my clutch bag, put in my lipstick and powder compact and left the room.

When I reached the lounge and sat down beside Mum, she smiled at me.

“Harriet, you look positively gorgeous. You're going to knock Reggie cold.”

“Oh, I hope not!” I said while blushing and laughing at the same time.

Reggie arrived soon after.

“Hello Harriet, Mrs Stow. Wow, you look amazing, Harriet.” This provoked the inevitable blush of course. He hesitated since Mum was there until she smiled and said to Reggie “Don't let my presence stop you kissing her.”

Reggie smiled and kissed me on the cheek, and then we went into the dining room for dinner.

Mum is a good conversationalist and we all enjoyed ourselves greatly.

“How is your work at the bank going?” she asked Reggie.

“Well it was well worth taking the year off to get some 'hands-on' experience,” said Reggie, “But I'll be starting my course at York University in September.”

“At least he'll be here while I perform in this run of 'Brutus',,” I thought. It seems Mum had similar thoughts because she said “I'm glad you'll be here while Harriet is in London. It's a big place to be on your own, and funnily enough, big cities can be lonely places.”

“We're going to see Sir Edgar's secretary's home tomorrow,” I said. “She's offered me a room while I'm here.”

“Well that will be much nicer than a hotel room,” said Reggie.

“It's going to be a bit of a rush. We go back to Bridchester on the train on Friday morning and then I have to pack my clothes and come back again on Sunday ready to start rehearsals on Monday. I think I'll need two suitcases this time as I'll be here for three months.”

“Well you know your part perfectly of course, but I suppose the rest of the cast are new to it,” said Reggie.

“Yes, it's going to be challenging working with a new set of people,” I replied.

After we finished our dessert and coffee, Mum said “I'm a little tired, so I think I'll go up to our room. Don't let Harriet keep you too late Reggie. I know you have to work in the morning.”

Reggie stood up as Mum rose to leave the table. One of the many things I love about him is he's the perfect gentleman. We then left the restaurant and walked into the lounge. There was only one other guest there, an elderly lady who was asleep in a comfortable chair. We found a couch in the corner which couldn't be seen from the door and sat down together.

Reggie gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. “I know it's only been a couple of weeks but I've missed you so much, Harriet.”

“Me too Reggie. I know we talk on the phone every few days, but it's not the same. That's why I wanted so much to get this part.”

He smiled at me “And I'm so glad you got it. I've been thinking what you said about having to dash back to London on the train struggling with two suitcases and I've had an idea. Mum and Dad have asked me to come to Brid in the next couple of weeks. How about I hire a car on Friday and drive up to see them? Then I could drive you back to London on Sunday. It would be so much easier for you, and we would get a chance to see each other again.”

“Oh Reggie, what a wonderful idea!” I exclaimed. “But I have one condition; neither of us is on huge money, so you must let me give you the money I would have spent on the train fare.”

“There's really no need,” he responded.

“No Reggie, I insist. Otherwise, I'll just have to struggle with those suitcases.”

He smiled at me. “Do you always get your own way?”

“Not always, but this is something I feel strongly enough about to insist on it.”

“O.k., it's a deal,” he replied and the deal was sealed with a lingering kiss. I looked at my watch. It was nearly ten o'clock, so I insisted that he go home, much though I would have loved him to stay. “You've got to work in the morning,” I said. “Anyway, I don't like the thought of you travelling on the tube late at night.”

We agreed that he would send me a text when he arrived at his flat, and I would stay awake to receive it. I didn't want to scare him with thoughts of what could happen on the tube, but there should still be plenty of people on it when he left.

About an hour later I received the text and could go to sleep secure in the knowledge he was home safely.

Mum and I had most of Thursday to ourselves so we spent a lot of it in various shops. I couldn't help thinking that as Harry I had spent the least amount of time I could shopping for clothes. Usually, I decided on the first thing that fitted me in order to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. Shopping as a girl was very different. There were so many different styles, colours, and patterns to choose from, and everything that might be suitable had to be tried on and discussed with Mum. I ended up with two new dresses, two skirts, some trousers, a new pair of shoes and some underwear. I could have gone on shopping for hours more, but I didn't want to deplete my bank account too much, and anyway Mum said her feet were getting sore, so we headed for a cafe for a sit-down and a meal. Afterwards we took everything back to the hotel and had a short 'siesta' before it was time to go to Louise's house for which we took a taxi as we weren't too sure where it was and fortunately the London taxi drivers have amazing knowledge – in fact they actually call it 'The Knowledge'. They have to spend several years acquiring knowledge of thousands of streets and the best way to get from A to B before they get a license to drive one of the famous black cabs.

We asked the driver if he would go via Wood Green tube station so I could get an idea of how far Louise's house was from it. His estimate was about ten minutes walk, so that was good. We drew up outside her home which was quite a large semi-detached house, and I paid him and thanked him for the ride. Very few older houses in London have a garage and it seemed that their front garden had been sacrificed for somewhere to park their car off the road. Louise opened the door a minute after I rang the bell and I had a surprise. I'd only spoken to her on the phone and she has a young voice, but on seeing her I estimated she was closer to fifty than forty.

“Welcome Mrs Stow and Harriet,” she said. “It's lovely to meet you in person at last.” She showed us into the house and despite it being probably fifty years old or more, the interior looked very fresh and modern. She showed us around, the lounge, dining room, kitchen and laundry, and then led us up the stairs.

“Rob and I have four children, but our eldest daughter Jeanette has now left home, leaving our twin daughters and Anthony our son. He's fifteen, so has a couple more years at school. How much longer he'll be here after he finishes school remains to be seen. We have four bedrooms but one is now free and I hope you like it.”

Leading the way upstairs and into a bright sunny room she said: “This used to be Jeanette's roomt.”

It had a floral counterpane on the single bed, pale pink wallpaper, a dressing table next to the window, and a modern wardrobe with full-length mirror doors along one wall.

“This might be most suitable one as the window faces west, so it gets the afternoon sun. I realise that being an actress you work late and might want to sleep in a bit without the sun shining in your eyes."

The bathroom was just across the corridor, and this bedroom really did seem most suitable. I made up my mind to take it.

“It's very nice,” I said. “There's just one thing....”

“Of course,” said Louise. “How does one hundred and forty pounds a week sound? That includes breakfast of course and occasional other meals, plus the use of the laundry facilities.”

I could tell Mum was shocked at the price, but I had been in London long enough to know how expensive accommodation is, and a hotel room with breakfast would have been close to that for a single night.

“That would be fine, Mrs Burton, thank you,” I replied, afraid Mum might try to start bargaining.

“There is one other thing, did Sir Edgar explain my special circumstances?”

“Yes he did, although seeing you for the first time I would never have guessed. I don't intend to share my knowledge with the children and Rob. There is no need for them to know. Anyway, you have nothing to worry about here. There is a lock on the bathroom door."

I felt myself blushing slightly. “Umm, that's fine. I'm sure there'll be no problems,” I said. “Is it alright for me to arrive on Sunday, as rehearsals start on Monday?”

“Yes, that's fine,” she replied.

Just then we heard the front door slam and a voice calling “Mum, I'm home.”

Louise smiled and called down the stairs “Mrs Stow and Harriet are here Anthony. Would you come up and meet them please?”

A few seconds later a thin bespectacled and rather short youth came up the stairs. I was reminded of Harry Potter. He shook each of our hands in turn and said it was nice to meet us. His hands were soft, obviously not accustomed to manual work. We responded appropriately.

“Harriet is arriving to stay on Sunday. She'll have Jeanette's old room,” said Louise.

“A good choice,” responded Anthony. "If you'll excuse me I have a lot of homework to do." With that, he disappeared into his bedroom. I decided he was rather shy although he seemed to have taken me in from head to foot.

We were then invited to have a cup of tea with Mrs Burton which we accepted and made our way down to the kitchen.

“Are you a cook?” said Louise.

I confessed my skills were rudimentary “Although my boyfriend says he will teach me a bit more than boiling eggs. I should explain something that Sir Edgar doesn't know yet since it only happened when I went back to Bridchester; I am taking steps to live as a female even after I complete this run of 'Brutus'."

“I see,” said Louise, glancing at Mum.

“And as my child, I support Harriet in whatever way she wishes to live her life. She does, however, know that it will be a long journey that she undertakes.”

I could have hugged Mum at that moment, but it would have to wait until later.

We sat down to cups of tea and slices of cake, and the conversation went on to general topics. After about thirty minutes, I said we had better be going and thanked Louise for her hospitality and how much I was looking forward to staying with them. Mum said that we had to pack to return to Brid on the train the following day.

“Yes we do Mum, but before we do that I have a surprise for you.”

“What's that?” she asked.

“You'll see,” I answered.

Louise telephoned for a taxi, and made sure Mum didn't hear the destination. On the way into the city, Mum asked what I thought of staying with Louise and her family. “I hadn't counted on her having a teenage boy there”

“That's why I mentioned my boyfriend,” I replied. “I'm sure Louise will keep him in check if he gets any ideas.”

“Well, so long as you are comfortable with it. I must confess I was shocked at the price.”

“That's actually quite reasonable by London standards. I'd be paying that for a night if I stayed in a hotel and I don't think my pay would cover it. No, this will still enable me to save some money.”

Mum was very curious about the mystery trip until all was revealed when we pulled up outside St Martin's Theatre in the West End.

“The Mousetrap!” she gasped.

All the time I had been playing in Brutus, it wasn't practical for me to see any other shows, so when I received the call to audition for the new production I had a great idea, which I discussed with Emma. I phoned the St Martin's box office and inquired about seats for the Thursday evening performance. “The Mousetrap” has the distinction of being the longest-running theatrical production anywhere in the world, starting in London in 1952, and had just reached its twenty thousandth performance at that time (it's still running today!). I knew Mum had always wanted to see it, so this would be something of a 'thank you' for all she had done for me, but as it turned out, she wasn't the only one to get a surprise.

I explained to the lady at the box office that we were coming down from Bridchester, so she said they would hold the seats at the box office and asked for my name.

“Harriet Stow,” she repeated. “That sounds familiar.”

“You're probably thinking of Harriet Beecher Stowe who wrote 'Uncle Tom's Cabin',” I replied. “And no, I'm not a relation as far as I know.”

“No it's not that,” she paused. “Oh, now I remember, you're the young lady in “Dear Brutus” that my daughter Jennifer went to see. We met you in Regents Park a while back. You were so kind to her. She's got a print of the photo she took in her room.”

I felt myself blushing while at the same time the hairs on the back of my neck were rising. Surely this was the sort of co-incidence that only happened in novels, and bad ones at that?

“Yes, that's me,” I replied.

“Well I'm sorry I can't give you free tickets,” she said. “But I'll get you the best seats I can.”

We chatted for another couple of minutes and I told her I was auditioning for another season, then I thanked her and rang off.

She wasn't in the box office when we entered the theatre, but we were given the tickets, which I'd already paid for over the phone. I looked at them and gasped.

“Front row centre in the dress circle, Mum!” I said.

“Goodness me, darling, you must have influence,” she replied.

We thoroughly enjoyed the show, but as requested by the management, I can't reveal 'who done it' as the saying goes.

After that, it was back to the hotel and packing for our trip back to Bridchester.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 16   To Brid and back again.

On Friday morning, Mum and I were up early for our journey back to Bridchester. I confess I've always been more of an owl than a fowl, something that doesn't matter to the acting profession since we have to stay up late on performance days, and usually sleep in the following morning. My alarm went off at seven o'clock and we got up, showered, dressed and finished our suitcase packing. Then we went down to breakfast and afterwards took a taxi to the tube station.

The journey back to Brid took place without incident and we arrived home mid-afternoon, in time to see Emma before she went to the theatre.

“Congratulations on getting the part, Harriet,” she said. “How did you find the audition?”

“A bit stressful, but I realise it's something I'll have to get used to if I'm going to continue acting. Actually, there's something I'd like to discuss with you,” I said. “Believe it or not there is an understudy for my role. Her name is Elspeth and she was the only other person auditioning for the role. I feel sorry for her because she's done quite a few auditions without getting any work. I'm just wondering how I should treat her as we'll be seeing a lot of each other, and she'll probably be hoping I get sick so she can take over the role.”

Emma laughed, and then seeing that I was serious she said “I'm sorry, that wasn't a very nice thing to do. I'm guessing you might be expected to assist her with learning the part and being confident in it. After all, over three months it's not impossible that you may have to miss some performances, say if you get a bad cold. Someone may see her and offer her another part, but don't worry, she won't replace you permanently so long as you continue to perform the way you have being doing.”

“I guess you're right,” I replied.

“I know I'm right,” said Emma. “If I ever get the chance to be understudy to a big name actor, I'd take it like a shot, and so should you. Do you know Anthony Hopkins got his big break when he stood in for Laurence Olivier, and Shirley MacLaine got her chance when the lead actress in a musical broke her ankle.”

“I guess I shouldn't forget I got my chance when Mary had appendicitis.”

“And look what's happened to you!” said Emma.

That certainly gave me reason to think. I could still be Harry Stow, standing in the wings and wondering why I felt so miserable and confused? I shuddered involuntarily. It didn't bear thinking about.

“While I think of it when you're in London why don't you contact Dame Emily*? She did say you should, and she might be able to steer something your way when the 'Brutus' run comes to an end.”

I blushed. “I don't really like to. I'm a beginner and she's, well she's Dame Emily. They don't come much more famous than that – think of all those films she's been in, and all the plays as well.”

“Well, it's your call, but this is the life of an actor if that's what you want to do. You do a show, it comes to an end and then you try for something else. You've been lucky so far, but you'll get audition knock-backs too. You don't want to be 'resting' for months at a time do you?”

“Emma, why didn't you go to London or another big city to try your luck?” I asked.

“In a word – 'money',” she replied. “Mum was supportive of my dream to act, but after Dad died, you were still at school, and Mum was on a small pension, so we needed me to make a steady income. The Apollo Players has been a life-saver for me. If it wasn't for them, I'd be doing an office job somewhere. I couldn't risk that for searching for roles and maybe not finding anything, I still can't.”

I had never realised that before and I gave her a big hug.

“Thanks, Sis. I don't think I've ever really appreciated all you've done for us. I do hope you get your chance at the big time.”

Emma's eyes were filled with tears but she managed a smile. “Well, it looks like my little sister may be leap-frogging over me at present.”

“Don't say that,” I replied. “I'm beginning to think I look like a 'one-trick pony' at present. I need to prove that I can do more than one role.”

“You will, I know you will,” she replied.

“I've managed to save quite a bit of money during the Apollo run, and I want to make a contribution to the household expenses. Can we have a meeting with Mum to discuss what I should pay?”

“Sure,” she said. “You're a good kid you know?”

I blushed. “I'm going to earn even more in this new production, so I can contribute more.”

“You'll have bigger expenses too; £140 a week board, and don't forget six trips a week by taxi back to Louise's house. You can't take public transport at night, it's too dangerous for a young girl. Say that's £15 a night by six – that's £90, so £230 already, and there will be more expenses. Why don't we play it by ear for a while and see how things go?”

We did have a family meeting and Mum didn't want to take any money from me while I was away in London, but I managed to persuade her that I should make a contribution to the household, and we agreed on a sum.

“You’ve kept me for so long, it's only fair that I now pay something towards your expenses,” I said.

Saturday was a day for packing. I now had a reasonable amount of my own clothing, and Emma had found a few more things of hers that I might like to have. She even made me a present of the emerald green cocktail dress I had worn in London.

“I know you love it,” she said. “And you'll get more use out of it that I will.”

I gave her a hug, partly so she couldn't see the tears start in my eyes. How lucky was I to have such a wonderful and generous sister?

That evening, Mum and I went along to see her in the new Apollo production “A Life”. I wanted to see a performance, and it was another excuse to dress up. Emma did very well, and I was pleased to see Mary doing an excellent job in her part. I still couldn't get over this lingering feeling of guilt about taking over her part in “Brutus”. It's silly I know, but I guess that's me.

I was up early the next morning for breakfast as Reggie was going to call at nine o-clock to drive us back to London. When he drew up outside our house I saw he was driving a Ford Mondeo. Thank goodness he had more foresight than me, as my two large suitcases plus a bag would have been a tight fit in the little Clio we had hired the last time he drove up to Bridchester.

Mum welcomed him into our home with a smile.

“I've made you a Thermos flask of tea and some sandwiches, cake, milk and cups in a cool bag for when you take a break,” she said. “I know those motorway services are very expensive. You can at least park there and use their toilets at no charge.”

“Thanks, Mum, you're a star,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Now you behave yourself in London,” she said, and I knew she was trying not to cry. After all her baby was heading off to the big city on her own.

“Don't you worry about Harriet, Mrs Stow, I'll keep an eye on her,” said Reggie.

“And so will Louise and her family,” I added. “There's no chance of me getting into trouble.”

I hope that went some way to reassure her, but nevertheless there were tears in both her eyes and mine when we hugged and said “Au revoir, not goodbye.”

Reggie loaded up my luggage which filled the car boot, and then I waved to Mum as we drove away. Reggie saw the tears in my eyes.

“I'll drive you up anytime you like,” he said.

“Than you Reggie, you're the best friend anyone could have,” I replied.

For those not familiar with the English road system, most of our journey was along the A1(M). The A1 as its designation sounds was once the major road from London heading north and now consists in part of dual carriageway, with some sections being upgraded to a motorway with extra traffic lanes. After about two hours driving, it was time for a break, so we pulled into the car park of one of the services and ate our sandwiches and cake and drank our tea. We took turns to go to the toilet so one of us was at all times in the car for security. It also served to stretch our legs. I'm not saying that theft from cars or the cars themselves is rife, but it pays to be cautious.

As we set off again, Reggie said: “Do you know what they call cool bags in New Zealand?”

I had no idea. “Well we've got a New Zealand girl currently working at the bank and she told us they're called 'chilly bins', or the way she said it was more like 'chully buns',” he said doing his best to mimic a New Zealand accent.

“Well I'm sure English accents sound strange to them,” I said.

“Oh yes. She said she can't believe the number of different accents in such a small country and how we can usually guess roughly where the person comes from.”

“Well I've had to play down my ‘Yorkshire accent’ since I came to London,” I said and wished I hadn't mentioned it since we both went silent for a minute and I knew we were both thinking about Samantha, that horrible girl we met at the London Eye.

As we got closer to London it was still only mid-afternoon and I hoped Reggie might suggest something to prolong our time together.

“What time is Louise expecting you?” he said eventually.

“I don't know, probably not until early evening,” I replied.

“Well, we're near the turn-off to the M25. Would you like us to call in at my flat for a while; I could even make you some tea if you like.”

“Oh, that would be lovely!” I said enthusiastically. I was in no rush to part company with Reggie before I had to, and it seemed he felt the same way.

About thirty minutes later we pulled up outside his flat.

“We can leave the suitcases in the boot. I'm sure they'll be safe there,” he said.

We entered the flat and I was pleased to see it was still very tidy.

“Richard's away for the weekend but he'll be back this evening,” he remarked.

It was too early to eat yet, so Reggie suggested I sit in the lounge while he made us both a cup of tea. I sat on the couch, and Reggie returned a few minutes later with two cups of tea which he placed on the small wooden table in front of the couch.

“This is nice,” I said snuggling up to him. He smiled at me and bent his head to kiss me. Perhaps it's no surprise that the kisses intensified as we embraced, and when Reggie took my hand and said: “Shall we?” I was only too ready to be led into his bedroom. Since this is not an “X” rated memoir, I leave it to my readers to surmise what took place, and will merely say that it was to our great mutual satisfaction. Being with a man as masculine and handsome as Reggie served to convince me once again how much I already felt like a female, and how much I wanted to present as one in every way possible and as soon as possible.

Afterwards, we slept for a while, and when we returned to the lounge-room, there were two cold cups of tea sitting on the table! Reggie set about making us tea which consisted of an omelet since he hadn't planned ahead and the refrigerator was rather bare. It didn't matter to me, as being made by him it tasted better than the finest fare from a five-star restaurant.

About seven o'clock we went back to the car and drove to Louise's house at Wood Green. Before we got out of the car we kissed once more.

“Thank you for everything Reggie. I've had the most perfect day.”

“What can I say, Harriet? You are a wonderful girl, and I couldn't wish for a better girl-friend.”

He extracted my suitcases from the boot and I carried my bag as we walked up the path to the front door. Louise opened it and said “Hello Harriet, how was your trip down?”

“Fine thank you Louise. I'd like to introduce my friend Reggie who drove me down.”

I couldn't help noticing how Louise looked at Reggie. He has that effect on women, but I wasn't worried as I knew he was mine.

“Hello Mrs Burton, it's nice to meet you,” said Reggie.

Louise was actually blushing as she laughed (it was more like a giggle) and said “It's nice to meet you too Reggie. Harriet has mentioned how kind you've been driving her up and down to Bridchester.”

'Dammit, she's flirting with my boyfriend,' I thought.

“By the way, your mum just rang to see if you'd arrived,” said Louise.

“I'll give her a call,” I said. “We stopped off for some tea.” I didn't feel the need to go into details! Louise hadn't mentioned anything about a meal, and I hadn’t wanted to put her to the trouble anyway.

“May I help Harriet upstairs with her suitcases, Mrs Burton?” asked Reggie.

“Of course,” she replied. “Anthony will help you too.”

I was glad of that as they were quite heavy. Once they were placed in my room, Reggie said he had better get going as he had work in the morning. I walked him to the car and we kissed goodnight. I promised to let him know if I had Saturday off, otherwise we would meet on Sunday.

As he drove off, I stood and watched the car until he turned the corner. Silly though it seems, I suddenly felt rather alone. Last time, Emma had been with me, and even though Louise and her family were very nice people, they weren't my family. Thank goodness for Reggie.

I went up to my new bedroom and started to unpack.

To be continued

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.

* Dame Emily Good is a pseudonym I have chosen for the famous actor that Harriet, Emma and their mother met on the London Underground and later when she came to see a performance of “Dear Brutus”.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 17   The dresser's story

I was up early on the first day of rehearsals. Fortunately, Anthony had already finished in the bathroom as it is true that girls take longer there. I was down for breakfast by eight o'clock and Louise invited me to help myself from the assorted cereals on the kitchen bench, while she finished cooking me bacon and eggs. Quite frankly, toast and jam would have suited me better as I was feeling a little nervous at the thought of meeting all the new people in the production, but since she had taken the trouble to cook it, I had no option but to eat it.

Louise left soon after with Anthony whom she dropped off at school most days, and after I finished eating, I stacked the dishwasher, wiped around the benches and then went up to my room for my coat and handbag. I wasn't going to 'dress up' for the first rehearsal so just wore trousers, a woollen top, a coat and boots.

The walk to the station took about ten minutes, the train trip about another ten more and so did the walk to the theatre, which I reached in plenty of time.

A couple of minutes before ten o'clock, Mark, the Director appeared from the wings, and we formed a sort of semi-circle around him.

“Good morning everyone, are we all here?”

“Jim Rogers is missing,” said someone. Just at that moment he appeared at the stalls' door, breathing hard.

“Sorry everyone, I missed the bus,” he explained.

“O.k., Jim. Well now we're all here, I know a few of you know each other, but it might be best if we all introduce ourselves and give two minutes worth of background, and say which part you are playing. I'll start off. I'm Mark Stevens. I trained at RADA (there was a murmur among the surrounding actors at this) and completed my B.A., majoring in Direction a year ago, and this is my first appointment as director for a professional production, although I had plenty of experience at the Academy of course.”

One by one the cast introduced themselves. Jim was playing the part of Dearth, my father, and it seemed from his potted C.V., that he had plenty of experience, so I was glad of that. Elspeth told us that she was a graduate of the London School of Dramatic Art and had performed in a number of their productions, and she was to be my understudy in this production. I noticed that she skated over her lack of theatrical roles to date. I suppose getting that first role is the hardest – a sort of 'Catch 22'. If you are a success, then you have something to put on your C.V., and that can lead to other roles, but getting the first one can be the hard part.

I noticed that all the younger actors had been to drama schools, either in London or the provinces, and most of the older ones had come up through the repertory theatre system. As more and more of these companies have closed down, there is less and less chance for budding actors to get their initial chances this way, and often their first roles are with the better amateur companies.

When it came to my turn I said that I had commenced with the Apollo Players repertory company in Bridchester (I suspect some of them had never heard of it) and how they had performed 'Brutus' for a six week run in this theatre. I had subsequently been invited to audition for the role of Margaret again and was fortunate enough to reprise the role. I confess I too did some 'skipping' – not mentioning that this was my first acting role. I hoped that when they saw my performance they would think I was competent enough to warrant my place in the company.

When we had all introduced ourselves, Mark said that we would do a run through the play, blocking out the moves, first with the main cast, and later, if there was time, with the understudies.

“I hope you've all been learning your lines,” he said. “I'd like to see you all 'off-book' by the end of the week.”

A few of the cast pulled faces at this, but having the script with you can be something of a crutch and it's too easy to rely on it. I suppose I should be sympathetic, as not everyone has a memory like mine, and I can't claim a medal for that - I'm just lucky that way.

As we walked off the stage so that the cast of Act One could make a start, Mark took me aside and said “Harriet, as you're not needed until Act Two, I'd like you to go and see Ma, our Wardrobe Mistress about your costume.”

Ma's real name was Maureen Atwood, so her nickname was derived from her initials. I walked down to her workroom and she beckoned me in. She was a rather plump woman in her forties, and from what I'd already heard, excellent at her job. I looked around her room. It was full of costumes on hangers, bolts of cloth, two industrial-looking sewing machines, workbenches covered in half-finished items, and shelves full of containers overflowing with cotton, buttons, braids, laces and things I couldn't even name. How she could find something she needed I had no idea, but presumably she had her own way of managing.

“Hello, I'm Harriet Stow and I'm playing Margaret,” I said.

“How are you, my dear? I'm Maureen but everyone calls me 'Ma' here,” she replied. “Well now, the first thing I need to do is get your measurements. Could you strip down to your bra and pants, please? I'll close the door and we won't be disturbed.”

I was a little surprised at her request, but supposed it gave her more accurate measurements than using her tape measure over clothes, so I did as she asked.

“Right now, let's see. You're about as slim as I was at your age,” she said as she took up her tape measure and took readings of my bust, waist, hips, legs and arms, noting everything down in a little notebook. Then she looked at it, frowned and took another reading of my hips. She looked slightly puzzled.

“Is anything wrong?” I said.

“No,” she replied in that tone of voice which really means 'yes'.

“I'd rather you discussed it with me than someone else,” I said, suspecting what she was thinking.

“Well dear, when I was starting out in the eighties, I worked as a dresser in one of those theatre restaurants that had a drag show. Some of those boys were so pretty when dressed, the only time you could tell that they weren't what they seemed was when they were in their undies in the dressing room or getting measured for new costumes, and what costumes they were, all feathers and spangles!”

“I see,” I said. “What is it, my hips?”

“Your hips and your tits, dear,” she replied. “Don't worry, they look fine, it's just they don't feel quite natural. I noticed that when I was measuring your bust.”

I blushed. “Maybe I should have come out and told you straight away, but I'm getting a bit paranoid at the number of people who already know what's supposed to be a secret.”

As I got dressed, I gave Ma a potted history of my life so far, and especially those last few months, and she nodded as I explained about the revelation dressing as a girl had been for me.

“Actually there is a difference between me and those boys in the drag show,” I said. “They were boys pretending to be girls, but until a few months ago, I was a girl pretending to be a boy, and not very successfully.”

“Well that's the case most of the time, but not always. I'll tell you a story if you've got time.”

I glanced at my watch. “Yes, they won't need me for another fifteen minutes at least.”

Well, the theatre where I worked was called the 'Galaxy' in Soho, and as you may know that's an area well known for what is called 'adult entertainment'. The drag show was called “Les Jolie Filles” and some of those boys really did make incredibly pretty girls. Some of them lived as girls full-time and even had boyfriends who certainly looked straight. The show had been running for a couple of years before I got there, and was still running when I left after a couple of years as I got a better paid job in a regular theatre.

Anyway, back to the present; about six months ago I was in the womenswear department at Selfridges when I noticed a very elegant woman, beautifully dressed, looking at me. There was something vaguely familiar about her.

She moved closer and said “Ma? Is that you?”

“That's what they call me in the theatre, love,” I replied.

“It's me, Jasmine from the Galaxy, well Shirley really,” she replied. “It must be twenty years since I last saw you.”

“Goodness me, it's all of that,” I replied. “How have you been?”

“Wonderful,” she replied. “Except I shouldn't have worn these heels to go shopping, they're killing me. Have you got time to have a cup of tea and I'll tell you about it.”

“So we went to one of the cafes, and she sat at a table and slipped her feet out of her shoes while I bought two cups of tea and two cakes, which I ended up eating because she said she had to watch her figure. I remembered Jasmine now, she had been one of the prettiest in the show, and even then she was worried about putting on weight. Now she was a beautiful middle-aged woman.

“When I sat down, she went on with her story. I suppose I was one of the very few people she could tell it to, and it went like this --

“I stayed with the 'Jolie Filles' until the show folded a couple of years after you left,” said Shirley. “I don't know if you remember but I was one of the girls living full-time. I'd already decided that this was how I wanted to live my life, and I'd been to see a G.P. who referred me to a specialist and I was taking hormones. I knew I wanted to be as good a woman as I could be and I was saving every penny I could to have 'the operation'.

“When the show ended I looked for another one because it was all I knew, and found one in Manchester, so I moved up there. You'll probably remember we had a lot of young men coming on stag nights and works parties, and they could be pretty noisy. We were encouraged to mingle with them after the show, still in drag but street clothes, encouraging them to buy us over-priced drinks. Sometimes we provided extra services. I'm not proud of the things I did, but it was all about getting more money.

“One night there was a particularly rowdy crowd from a factory celebrating a stag night, and that's when I first spotted Ken. He was with them but not with them if you know what I mean. For a start he was the only one wearing a suit and tie. The other thing I noticed was he couldn't keep his eyes off me.

“When we were changing after the show, about ten of us in one dressing room you'll remember, I said to the others “Hands off the guy with the suit and tie, he's mine.” That got a laugh I can tell you because it was the first time I'd ever expressed a preference for one of the guys. So I slipped into a tight little black dress, stockings and six-inch heels, fixed up my hair and make-up and joined the others going out to the tables. I made my way over to where he was sitting and slid into the now vacant seat next to him.

“Hi there, would you like to buy a girl a drink?” I said and I can still remember he blushed scarlet. However he did buy me the drink even though the price was ridiculous. I had trouble getting him to talk but he finally told me his name was Ken and that he was the office manager at the factory where they all worked. It seemed he had only come to the show because Dave who was getting married had twisted his arm until he said 'yes'. I also established that he was single, by a subtle query on whether he'd had to get permission to come to the show.

“Have you, err, been working here long?” he finally said.

“Only six months here, but I did work in a similar show in London for four years,” I replied. “Have you been at the factory long?” Yes, I know it's riveting stuff, but he was so shy that just getting him to talk was like pulling teeth.

The band had started up again and some of the guys were dancing with the girls, so I asked if he'd like to dance too?

“I'm not very good at it,” he replied, but I said “Nonsense, you only have to shuffle around to the music,” and taking his hand I led him onto the tiny dance floor. He held me at arms' length at first, but gradually he started to relax as I moved in closer to him and he started to enjoy it.

“There, that wasn't so bad was it?” I said as we sat down after the dance.

“Err no, it was very nice,” he replied.

Things went on like this for another hour or so, and then I saw some of the guys were making moves to leave, It was plain that Ken was never going to make the first move to ask me out, so I slipped a card with my number on it into his hand and said.

“Why don't you give me a call Ken? Maybe we can meet up for a drink somewhere.”

Soon after, they all left. Three days passed and I decided I wasn't going to hear from him. Oh well, these things happen. I was sharing with two other girls from the show and on the fourth day, after I came back from doing some grocery shopping, Gloria said to me. “You missed a call, a guy called Ken.”

“Damn,” I replied. “Did he leave a number?”

“Yes. He said he'd be there for another hour. You might just catch him.”

I rang the number straight away. I don't know why it seemed so important to me to talk to Ken, but it did. Thank goodness, he picked up.

“Hi Ken, this is Shirley, well you know me as Jasmine. I was out shopping before.”

“Oh hi err Shirley,” he sounded nervous. “We met the other night. I was wondering if you had some free time. Maybe we could meet up for a drink, that's if you're not too busy?”

“I only get Sundays off Ken, would that suit you?”

“Sure, where would you like to meet?” It was obvious I had to take the initiative here.

“There's a pub called 'The Goat and Hat' in Market Street in town, how about seven o'clock this Sunday?”

“Oh yes, sure, I'll look forward to it,” he sounded a lot brighter.

I could hardly wait for Sunday to come around and spent a large part of the day getting ready to go out. The other girls laughed at me of course, but I didn't care. I chose to wear a gorgeous deep blue satin 'tea length' dress with the hem coming to mid-calf. It's a slightly retro look but I love it as I think it looks very glamorous, and I wanted to make an impression without going over the top. Maybe I failed in that regard, but what the heck? I wore stockings of course and five-inch heels with a matching colour to the dress. It was a pity it was rather cool so I had to wear my woollen coat.

I was right on time arriving at the pub, I think keeping someone waiting is bad manners. The look on Ken's face when he saw me made my hours of preparation worthwhile. He was sitting at a table with a barely touched glass of beer in front of him and I suspected he had been there for some time. He rose to his feet when he saw me.

“Hello Shirley, you look nice,” he said. I smiled and said, “Thank you”.

“I'm so glad you came,” he said.

“Of course I came, I said I would,” I replied, a little annoyed that he doubted me.

“Well, some girls say that and they don't come,” he replied. Poor guy, fancy getting stood up. I would hate that.

I reached over and patted his hand. “Well, I'm here now.”

He asked if he could get me a drink and I opted for a champagne cocktail. I watched him as he crossed the room to the bar. He was tall, slim and not at all bad-looking. Such a pity he had a bad case of lacking self-confidence. Well, I thought, maybe I could do something about that.

He returned to the table with the drink and I lifted it and said “Cheers”. Again it took him a while to relax but bit by bit his conversation improved, and when we finished our drinks, he seemed to take a deep breath and said “Shirley, are you doing anything this evening? I mean I was wondering if you'd eaten? Maybe we could go somewhere for dinner?”

No prizes for guessing that I said 'yes', and we went to a very nice restaurant close by. At one stage after a couple of drinks had helped him relax, Ken said “You know, I never imagined I'd be having dinner in a restaurant with a girl like you.”

I completely misunderstood his meaning and said: “Well all the girls in the show are like me.”

He actually laughed and said, “I didn't mean it like that, I meant that you are so beautiful, in fact the most beautiful girl I've ever been out with.”

Well, I blushed at that, something I hadn't done for a long time.

“So you don't mind who or what I am?”

He looked at me seriously. “All I see and hear is a gorgeous woman. I'm proud to be here with you, having the best time I've had in years.”

Suddenly I was overcome and a tear ran down my cheek. “That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a very long time,” I said.”

“I'm sorry,” said Shirley, “I'm taking forever and it's as if I'm reliving the whole thing. Anyway, that was the first of many dates with Ken. He actually wanted to take me to the wedding of the guy whose stag night it had been when we first met, but I persuaded him that it wasn't a good idea. I wasn't bothered for myself, but if anyone recognised me from the theatre it could have been very embarrassing for Ken and might have led to some unsavoury remarks, since I knew what the other guys thought of the girls in the show. I'd heard their snide comments. I was very touched that he was prepared to take that risk.

“I was totally open with him about my plans for the future, to become the best woman I could be and he totally supported me in that, even helping me financially when I finally made the trip to Thailand for my surgery and coming with me to support me. By then I was deeply in love with him and he with me.

“For Ken's sake I didn't want to stay in Manchester, and fortunately he found a much better position as office manager for a big company down here, so you can see he has much more self-confidence now, and if I've played a small part in him achieving that, then I'm a happy woman. We're married, live in a nice house and have an adopted daughter, so life couldn't be better.”

I had sat entranced as Ma told me this story. I couldn't help thinking how much it resembled the first part of my relationship with Reggie, and I wondered if we had a similar future together. My thoughts, however, were interrupted by someone knocking on the door, saying that Mark wanted to start rehearsing Act Two and where was I?

Just before I left Ma she said: “Do many people down here know about you?”

“Besides Sir Edgar, there's Louise his secretary, whose house I'm staying at for the run, but her family doesn't know and neither do the cast. I have a boyfriend too, called Reggie, and he's really sweet. He accepts me for what I am. I don't know if Mark's been told. He hasn't mentioned it, but maybe that's why he sent me on my own to get measured.”

“Well your secret is safe with me,” said Ma, as I left the room to hurry up to the stage.

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 18   A 'misunderstanding' or two.

By the end of the week, most of the cast were comfortable in their roles and no longer relying on the book. The sole exception was Jim Rogers and that was causing me some concern. He was playing the role of my father, so my only scene was the one with him, and if he fluffed his lines he could easily ruin it for me as well as himself.

As I knew his part as well as I knew my own, I was able to quietly give him a prompt when he stumbled, and even carry on without a pause when he skipped whole lines of dialogue. Inevitably though Mark noticed and discreetly called Jim over to ask what was going on. I was out of earshot but it didn't take an expert on body language to tell that Mark wasn't too happy. After all, in three weeks we would have Opening Night with Sir Edgar in attendance.

A short while later Jim came up to me and asked if there was somewhere quiet we could talk. We walked out to the back of the stage where we were surrounded by props, scenery and flies, the ropes and pulleys used to hoist scenery up and out of the audience's view.

“I'm sorry about the rehearsal,” said Jim. “I feel I'm letting everyone down, especially you. I wonder, could I ask a favour? How would you feel about coming to my house for a one-on-one rehearsal to help me get my head around this scene without all the distractions here?”

“Well, if you think it would help,” I replied.

“There's no rehearsal here on Friday since Mark has to go to a meeting, so how would Friday morning suit you? Marjorie, my wife will be home but she won't disturb us.”

So it was agreed that I would come to his house at about ten o'clock on Friday. Everyone was supposed to concentrate on learning their lines instead of rehearsing, so it seemed like a good thing to do. I now know that when Jim invited me to his house I should have heard warning bells, but I didn't.

I arrived promptly at ten o'clock, and Jim's wife opened the door. “You must be Harriet,” she said. “I'm Marjorie, Jim's wife.”

Jim then appeared and greeted me, and we went into the lounge to start our rehearsal. I was surprised to see a painter's easel in the middle of the room with an oil painting of a rural scene placed on it. “That's Marjorie's,” said Jim. “ It's her hobby and I thought it would add a touch of realism to our rehearsal.”

We started rehearsing and it was going well. Jim seemed far more comfortable with his role and had barely a slip-up. About eleven o'clock, Marjorie popped her head around the door and said “I'm off to the Women's Institute lunch now. I've left some sandwiches and cake for you on the kitchen table.”

Still no warning bells, which shows how naive and inexperienced I was as a girl. As we continued the rehearsal, which was now flowing very nicely, Jim suddenly got up, which wasn't in the script, and without warning wrapped his arms around me and started to kiss me passionately. I was so shocked that for a few seconds I didn't react. Then I thrust him away from me and gasped “Jim! What on earth are you doing?”

Jim looked stunned. “I thought that's what you wanted. The way you've been acting during rehearsals, flirting with me, well I just picked up the signals you were sending.”

“No Jim,” I replied. “That's exactly what it was – acting. Don't you know that girls flirt with their fathers from a very young age? It's a safe way of practicing their skills for later in life.”

Jim looked crestfallen. “No, I didn't know that. I've only got a son and no daughters. I've really blown it haven't I? Are you going to tell Marjorie?”

I took pity on him. Like many women, I thought that it might have been partly my fault, although he should have realised that what happens on stage isn't real.

“No, I'm not going to tell her,” I said. “provided that it never happens again. Anyway, I'm going to leave now. I can't continue the rehearsal after what's happened. If your wife wonders why I left early, you'll have to come up with some excuse for me.”

Jim didn't try to stop me as I gathered up my coat and handbag and walked to the door. When I reached it I paused. “By the way, your performance in the scene is so much better now, I don't think you need any more private rehearsals.”

While I was waiting for the bus, I mulled over what had happened. Was it possible that Jim had deliberately muffed his lines to set up our get-together? I really couldn't be sure, but one thing I did learn after this second occasion of an unwanted kiss (the first being Monty), that there was so much more to being a girl than I realised and how easy it was to send out the wrong signals.

I took the opportunity during my next telephone conversation with Emma to tell her what had happened.

“Was I very naïve?” I asked her.

“If I say yes, I don't mean it in an unkind way,” she replied. “Although I'm sure you've been a girl from when you were born, it's easy to forget that you've only been expressing yourself as one for a few months, and you're on a steep learning curve. Remember that one of the expressions often used about pretty girls or women is to say that they are 'attractive'. Think about what that means – men are attracted to them, and sometimes they misunderstand the signals a woman is sending out. You have to learn how to handle men, and that means realising that they don't always think with their brains.”

I blushed as I got her implied meaning.

“By the way, I think Jim's wife was very naïve to leave her husband alone with a girl as pretty as you, so don't think that it's all your fault.” she concluded.

Once more I breathed a prayer of thanks for my older sister and her sage advice.

To give Jim his due, there was no repeat of the incident, and at the next rehearsal his performance had improved remarkably, in fact he was almost word-perfect. Mark in an aside to me said “I believe you've been giving Jim some extra tuition for his part. Thanks for that, it's really worked.”

“Well it's in my interest for him to know it well, so I was glad to help,” I replied.

--ooOoo--

The two weekends prior to the Opening Night were free for the cast. After that, we would be performing a matinee and an evening show each Saturday, so we would only have Sundays off.

When I told Reggie he sounded apologetic.

“I'm sorry Harriet, but I'm playing football for the local club on Saturday. I didn't realise you had the Saturday off, and I can't really get out of it.”

“That's alright Reggie. Actually, I've never really seen you play since we were at school. Do you mind if I come up and watch?”

“Of course not. I'd be delighted if you did. We could have some tea together after that.”

I mentioned previously that Reggie was a star athlete from an early age, representing the school at cricket and football. Since there are a number of football codes around the world, I should clarify that I am referring to what is called 'soccer' in many countries. Soon after he started living in Southgate, Reggie sought out the local football and cricket clubs and was soon a valued member of them both.

Sweet guy that he is, Reggie offered to come down to Wood Green to escort me to Southgate but I assured him I would be alright coming up by train on a Saturday morning. When I awoke it was to the sound of rain on the roof, but unlike cricket, football is played in all weathers, so short of extreme fog or a tornado, I knew the game would go ahead.

I dressed for warmth with tights under my trousers, a woollen top over my camisole, boots and a raincoat, and after breakfast set off for the tube holding a large umbrella. Reggie asked me to text him when the train left Wood Green and said he would meet me at Southgate. I tried to dissuade him but to no avail, and in the end, I was glad he was there.

It is a convention in the tube not to make eye contact with anyone, and in fact, most of the passengers were engrossed in a newspaper or magazine. I had neither so I was looking around at the other passengers when I became aware that one of them was staring at me. I quickly looked away, but in that momentary glance, I saw he was in his twenties, unshaven and wearing the ubiquitous 'hoodie'. I tried to look out of the corner of my eye to see if I still had his attention and was a bit concerned to see that I did. I hoped he would get off before Southgate, and my heart rate increased when I realised that he stood up when I did to get off the train. I carefully ignored him as I went up the escalator, my heart still pounding and was so glad to see Reggie waiting for me at the top. I ran to him and he hugged me, and I saw the man walk away without apparently glancing in our direction.

“What's up Harriet?” said Reggie. He is extraordinarily perceptive of my moods.

“It's probably nothing, but there was a man on the train. He was staring at me and got off here too. I'm probably being paranoid but I was so glad you came to meet me.”

“The guy in the hoodie? I noticed him looking at you, and then when he saw you were meeting me he hurried off. What a creep.”

“Well he's not going to spoil our day. What time do you have to be at the ground?”

“Not until twelve o'clock. We've got time for a coffee if you like. I've got my gear with me, and we're playing Edmonton at home so the ground isn't far away.” For the first time I noticed his large sports bag at his feet. Just for fun I tried to lift it up.

“Are you carrying bricks in there?” I joked.

As we left the station I glanced around but there was no sign of the guy. Hopefully, he was long gone. Thank goodness the rain had stopped but I wondered what condition the ground would be in.

After a coffee and a sandwich at the Subway across the road, Reggie hailed a taxi to take us to the ground. I was still feeling a bit nervous. I don't know what it was about that guy but he had really spooked me. Reggie had to go to the change-rooms of course, so I went over to the small stand and sat next to another girl about my own age.

“Hello,” she said. “Is your boyfriend playing?”

“Yes, he's in the Southgate team.”

She laughed “Mine's playing for Edmonton. I guess we are rivals today.”

I laughed too. “That doesn't mean we can't be friends. I'm Harriet.”

“Paula. Nice to meet you. Do you go to all your boyfriend's games?”

“This is the first time actually. I've just come down from Yorkshire for a while to work.”

“You haven't got much of an accent,” she commented.

“No, I'm working on it. I don't want to stand out in the crowd,” I responded.

We chatted for a while and then the two teams came onto the field.

“Who's your guy?” said Paula, so I pointed out Reggie.

“Mmm, nice. You're a lucky girl,” she said.

“I know,” I responded. “Who's your guy?”

“That's him – Mickey. Hey, it looks like they're lining up against each other,” she said as the teams took their positions.

“Actually, he's more than a boyfriend. We're getting married next month, not before time,” and she patted her stomach which I now realised showed they were expecting a baby.

“Congratulations. He looks like a nice guy. I'm sure he'll make a good father,” I responded.

The referee blew the whistle and Reggie's team kicked off. To be honest I don't really know the intricacies of football apart from the obvious one of needing to kick the ball into the opposing team's goal. It was obvious in a very few minutes that the ground had had plenty of rain and soon the players were covered in mud. The crowd around us roared and cheered, gasped and booed as the mood took them. I tried to keep an eye on Reggie but it was getting increasingly difficult to make out who was who.

After a while Paula said “I've got to go to the Ladies. Do you want me to bring you back a drink?”

“Yes please,” I replied, opening my purse to pay her.

“No, this one's on me.”

I continues watching the game and the noise was so loud that I didn't notice someone had sat down in Paula's seat until a voice said “We meet again.”

I turned and gasped. It was the guy from the tube train.

“How did you get here?” I asked.

“I'm Sherlock 'Olmes. Nah, it was easy, I saw the team logo on your bloke's bag, and found out where they were playing.”

This was a bit worrying. I wondered what he wanted but thought it better not to ask. In fact, he supplied the answer. “I thought I'd come and 'ave a chat with you since you was staring at me on the train.”

This was patently not true, in fact, it was the reverse. I didn't think it was wise to aggravate him but I did say “My boyfriend's here you know? He won't be pleased to see you.”

“Oh 'im. All brawn and no brains. Any'ow he's down there on the pitch, I saw 'im. Me names Charlie by the way, what's yours?”

I was saved from replying by seeing Paula making her way back along the row of seats. She stopped as she reached us.

“'Scuse me, you've got my seat,” she said.

“Piss off, it's mine now,” replied Charlie, his mood suddenly changing.

Paula glared at him and then appeared to trip, emptying the contents of the two hot drinks straight into Charlie's lap. With a yell he started up, clenching his fists and I thought he was going to punch Paula. She stepped back, anxious about her baby, and as he lurched forward, I pushed my umbrella between his legs and he tripped and fell flat on his face. With an oath he got up, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead. He seemed to be making up his mind which of us to hit first when a large man in the row behind reached around his chest and grabbed him.

Charlie struggled and cursed “Let me go you bastard, you can't 'old me, it's against the law.”

“Now that's where you're wrong Charlie, I am the law,” said the man.

Charlie struggled to turn round and his face turned very pale as he saw who it was.

“Oh 'ello Sergeant Willis, I was just having a little fun with the girls,” he said.

“It didn't look like fun to me,” said the sergeant. “You're coming with me. A few hours in the cells will help you cool off.”

Turning to us he said “I'd like you two ladies to come down to the local police station and make a report. You might like to press charges.”

“Can we do it after the game?” said Paula. “Both our boyfriends are playing.”

The sergeant agreed to that, and just as he left there was a roar from the crowd. Someone had scored and I thought it might just be Reggie, but it happened at the far end of the ground, and with all the mud on him I wasn't totally sure. The rest of the game played out without incident. I went to buy two more drinks and was able to get them safely back to the stand. Someone from Edmonton scored in the last couple of minutes so it was a draw – one all.

Paula and I waited for the boys to go into the locker-rooms and wash some of the mud off themselves, and then they both came up together to find us in the stands. It wasn't until they came close to us that they realised their two girlfriends were sitting side by side. We had to explain what had happened, and Mickey offered to drive us all to the police station since Reggie didn't have a car.

Fortunately, Sergeant Willis took us separately, me first, into an interview room to discuss the incident and ask us to make a statement. I had by now realised that some complications could be looming.

“You saw Charlie recognised me. It's not the first time he's been in trouble and probably won't be the last,” he said. “If you'd like to make a statement we can charge him with threatening behaviour.”

I gulped and knew I was blushing. “Sergeant, I need to ask you something. If Charlie fights the charge will I have to give evidence under oath?”

“Well yes, that's likely,” was his reply.

“Well I have a problem with that. You seem I'm transgender, but I only recently started treatment so my birth certificate says Harold Stow, whereas I go by the name of Harriet.”

He stared at me. “Really? Wel,l I would never have guessed.”

“There could be another problem if I answer to a male name and there is a reporter in the gallery. I'm currently acting a female role in a play at the Mercury Theatre in Finsbury Park, and part of my contract is that I must be seen to be a female at all times. If I am 'outed' in a newspaper, I may well lose my job.”

The sergeant thought for a minute. “Since no-one was actually injured in the incident, if we discount the hot water and the bump on Charlie's head, I could leave him to stew in the cells for a couple more hours and then give him a big dressing down; saying you kindly agreed not to press charges on this occasion. I will then administer a Police Caution which doesn't involve a court appearance, but letting him know that he'll be in serious trouble if something like this happens again. How does that sound?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds very good, thank you, sergeant.”

Of course then I had to speak to Paula and ask her not to press charges either, since if she did, I might still be called as a witness and my name would come out.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “That little twerp deserves to be behind bars.”

“I do have a very good reason for it Paula, but please don't ask me what it is.”

She smiled at me “A woman of mystery eh?”

I suddenly had a thought. “Well, alright. I”m acting in a play in Finsbury Park and if there's a reporter in court and it comes out that I was involved in a rumpus, it would be really bad publicity and I could lose my job.”

“You're an actress? Wow!,” said Paula. “Well alright, although I still think he should do time.”

“Well the sergeant has promised he will if he ever sees him misbehaving again.”

We went out to tell the boys what had happened, and then I suggested we all go out to tea together. We had a very enjoyable meal at a small restaurant, and by the end of it we were firm friends and promised to catch up again. Oh, before I forget, it was Reggie who scored for the home team, but not Mickey who scored the Edmonton goal although he had a few near misses.

At the end of the meal, which I insisted on paying for, Paula and Mickey in turn insisted on dropping Reggie off at his flat and taking me all the way down to Wood Green. I think they were slightly surprised that as boyfriend and girlfriend I was not staying the night with Reggie, but they didn't comment on it. However, on Sunday I took the tube back to Southgate and spent the day with Reggie at the flat. Richard was out, so we had it to ourselves. There is an expression 'playing house' which is what we did, spending the day like a married couple, cooking, watching television, even a little cleaning up, and also other things that married couples do. I couldn't help thinking that I would love to be doing this with Reggie all the time.

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 19   A Weekend at Swansea

Before Reggie and I parted on my first full weekend off, he gave me some good news. The following Saturday his football team had a bye due to an uneven number of teams in their league, so he had the weekend off too.

He spoke a little diffidently as if he was afraid I would say 'no'.

“I've got a relative, Aunt Jane who lives in Swansea. I had a letter from her recently saying it's been ages since she last saw me and why don't I pay her a visit? I was wondering how you would feel if we went down to see her next weekend?”

I was thrilled at the thought of a whole weekend with Reggie and enthusiastically agreed.

“She lives in this big old house, all on her own since Uncle Reg died. My parents have tried to persuade her to move into something smaller but she won't have it. She says she was born in that house and she'll die in it. Anyway, there are plenty of spare bedrooms, so we could stay with her rather than go to a hotel if that's alright with you?”

I had a sneaking suspicion that Reggie only wanted us to use one bedroom, although not knowing his aunt I wasn't sure what she would think of that. Perhaps we would have adjoining rooms and sneak from one to the other like those farces that theatre-goers so enjoyed in the nineteen-thirties? The thought made me giggle, and then blush when Reggie asked me what that was about.

The week's rehearsals went smoothly enough, and I could tell that Mark was pleased with the way things were going. I could hardly wait for the weekend to arrive. One of the many pleasurable things about being a girl going away for a weekend is deciding what clothes to take, while restricting oneself to a single suitcase of course!

Men and boys have it so easy, a couple of pairs of jeans or trousers, tops or shirts, socks and shoes, a jumper and a coat. However, I wouldn't swap with them for worlds.

With a sense of anticipation, I packed my sexy black lingerie set together with a matching full slip, plus a couple of other sets of course; stockings and tights, my deep blue satin dress in anticipation of going out to dinner, a woollen skirt, trousers, and jeans to be practical if the weather didn't behave, silk, cotton and woollen tops, boots and shoes with low and high heels. I know what you are thinking – that is a ridiculously large amount of clothing to take for a weekend, but when you are young you do these things. Fortunately, the suitcase had wheels or I would never have managed to transport it.

My make-up, hairbrush, etc would go into a separate mini-case, but I'd need them on Friday morning before going to the theatre. I packed and unpacked several times, switching various items before I was finally satisfied. One of the problems in Wales is the unreliable weather; you really have to allow for everything from a heatwave to a blizzard, and all in one weekend!

During the week I decided to spoil myself by buying a beautiful pale pink silk nightie, in anticipation of Reggie and I sharing a bed. I was going to be very disappointed if we didn't!

Reggie had been in touch with Aunt Jane and she was very keen to see us both, so we decided to travel down to Swansea on Friday evening rather than wait until Saturday morning. Reggie was to take his suitcase into work, and I would take mine to the theatre, so that I could take the tube down to Holborn, the nearest station to where he worked. We would then meet up and travel to Paddington Station. The underground railway in London is a wonderful way of getting to where you want to go efficiently and quickly. All the major railway stations have a tube station as well, so you don't have to do any surface travel to reach the one you want.

Reggie had managed to leave work early at about four o'clock, and I was finished with rehearsals by mid-afternoon, so we were able to catch the five o'clock train which reached Swansea just after eight o'clock at night. From there we took a taxi and arrived at his aunt's place at Brymill about twenty minutes later. Her house was a few streets back from the beach. It was dark so not easy to see but it certainly looked much too large for one person to live in.

Reggie paid the taxi driver, we pulled our suitcases up the driveway (being a gentleman Reggie took my heavy one while I pulled his much lighter one) and Reggie rang the doorbell. After a short wait, we heard footsteps and the door opened. Somehow I had imagined Reggie's aunt to be a little old lady, possibly wearing one of those Welsh 'witch's hats', but when she opened the door I realised I couldn't have been more wrong. Aunt Jane was about five foot seven inches tall, slim with red hair, possibly dyed, and wearing a very stylish red dress.

“Reggie!” she exclaimed. “ And this must be Harriet. It's so nice to meet you. Please come in.” She kissed us both on the cheek.

Here was a second surprise, she only had the faintest trace of a Welsh accent.

She led the way down a hall to a comfortable sitting room, and we sat on a well-upholstered couch.

“How was your journey?” After confirming that it had been uneventful, she asked if we had eaten, and after hearing that we'd just had a sandwich and a cup of tea on the train, we were offered a portion of a casserole she had been making that afternoon. Being two young people with healthy appetites, of course we accepted the offer.

“But first I'd better show you to your room so that you can settle in,” said Aunt Jane.

We followed her to the foot of the stairs and she suggested that Reggie bring up the suitcases while she and I went ahead. Reaching the top of the stairs, we walked down a short corridor and she pointed out the door to the bathroom, and then two doors further on she led me into the room she had selected for us. The first thing I noticed was a large double bed. Aunt Jane was obviously a thoroughly modern woman and fully expected Reggie and I would not be requiring separate beds. I suspect I blushed slightly. Reggie arrived with the first of the suitcases.

“Oh this is nice,” he said.

“Yes, it's lovely Mrs Walpole,” I said.

“Oh please, call me Jane, or Aunt Jane if you prefer,” she said, “Mrs Walpole is far too formal.”

The room was bright and airy, with two large wardrobes and a dressing-table and chair – essential furniture for a female guest of course, plus two easy chairs, in addition to the afore-mentioned bed.

Reggie went back for my suitcase and Aunt Jane said, “I'll give you time to unpack and call when dinner is ready.”

With the two suitcases lying on either side of the bed, we proceeded to unpack. I think Reggie's eyes widened when he saw how much clothing I had brought along.

“Well we don't know what the weather will be like, and I don't know where we might be going, so I've packed for all possibilities,” I said in justification.

The dressing table had three drawers, so I claimed the top two and Reggie was given the bottom one to store his socks underpants and singlets. Perhaps not surprisingly, my lingerie and tops seemed to occupy most of the other two drawers.

I hung up my dresses, skirts and trousers, while Reggie hung up his clothes in half the time.

Just then Aunt Jane called up the stairs to say dinner was ready, so our next move was into the kitchen, where Reggie had a large portion and I had a rather smaller one of the delicious casserole, followed by apple pie and ice cream. We then retired to the lounge with cups of coffee.

“Reggie tells me you are an actress,” said Aunt Jane.

“Like my sister, only she always wanted to be one, and I sort of fell into it by accident,” I replied, and went on to relate the story of Mary and her appendicitis.

“But you're now performing in London in a new production. Surely that wasn't an accident?”

I felt myself blushing. “Well no, it seems I did the role well enough to get cast again.”

I felt a bit embarrassed talking about myself and was glad when Aunt Jane diplomatically switched the conversation to asking Reggie how his job was going.

The conversation went on for a while when I suddenly I found myself yawning. I was so embarrassed.

“I'm sorry, I'm not bored, it's just been a long day.”

Aunt Jane nodded and smiled. “That's alright. Perhaps you'd like an early night? How about you Reggie?”

“Yes, it's been a long day for me too and I'd really like to show Harriet around Swansea tomorrow, so maybe an early night is in order.”

I suspected that Aunt Jane thought we had ulterior motives for retiring when it was only ten o'clock, but in fact, we really were both tired. When we went up to the bedroom, it was strange but we both felt a little shy, so we took it in turns to go to the bathroom and change into our night attire. Reggie wore pyjamas and I decided to keep my new glamorous nightie for the following night, and instead wore a cotton one. We must have been asleep within five minutes of getting into bed, despite the novelty of sleeping the night with each other.

The next morning I awoke first and for a moment stared at the ceiling and wondered where I was. Then I heard the sound of someone else breathing and turning, saw Reggie's head on the pillow beside me. He looked so handsome, and yet so vulnerable lying there, that I just lay there gazing at him and wondering why I had been so lucky. Eventually, he stirred and opened his eyes.

“Hello.”

“Hello yourself.”

“Come here,” he said, and I didn't need a second invitation. We cuddled for a few minutes and I said: “I can't believe I'm really here in bed with you.”

I glanced at my watch on the bedside table.

“Good heavens, it's already eight-thirty, we must have been tired,” I said. “We'd better get up or your aunt will think we intend to stay in bed all day.”

Reggie grinned “That sounds like a great idea to me.”

I giggled and hit him with my pillow. “Come on Romeo, who's for first shower?”

It turned out it was Reggie, and as soon as he was finished, I dived in while he dressed, determined that we would not be too late going down for breakfast. I looked out of the window and it seemed like a nice sunny day, although it was bound to be chilly, so after my bra and panties, I dressed in my silk camisole under a woollen top, my woollen tartan skirt with opaque black tights to keep my legs warm, and boots in case it rained later, something for which Wales is renown. I quickly did my make-up and combed my hair, and then went downstairs to the kitchen.

Aunt Jane was busy cooking breakfast with bacon, eggs, tomato, sausage, and plenty of toast. To show we were no longer in England, Aunt Jane had also included laverbread, a delicacy made from a type of seaweed coated in oatmeal and fried. It was the first time I had tasted it and it was surprisingly palatable.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Yes, the bed was very comfortable,” I replied.

“We slept like logs,” said Reggie. I don't know if she believed us, but it was true.

The great thing about a breakfast like that is that it gives you enough calories to keep you going for most of the day.

“What would you like to do today?” said Aunt Jane. “The weather looks quite nice.”

“We were wondering if you'd like to come with us while I show Harriet Swansea and the Gower? She's never been here before,” said Reggie.

“That's very kind of you, but I wonder if you young things mightn't enjoy yourselves more if just the two of you go? Then when you come back we can all go into Swansea for dinner. I'd be happy to lend you my car if you like?”

“Really?” said Reggie, a look of surprise on his face which I didn't understand.

“Of course. It's fully insured," she said this with a smile. "I'll pack you a picnic hamper and a thermos if you like.”

So about 15 minutes later, Reggie and I were standing in front of the garage door.

“This is special,” he said as he pressed the remote for the door. It slowly swung upwards and he was right. The first thing that caught my eye, gleaming in the sunlight was the pouncing feline mounted on top of the radiator.

“A Mark 2 Jaguar!” I gasped.

Reggie grinned. “I'm impressed,” he said. “Not many girls would know that.”

I punched his arm playfully. “You'd be surprised what girls know,” I replied. “But how did it come to be here?”

“Aunt Jane's husband Reg, after whom I'm named incidentally, was a mad keen car buff, and this was his favourite car. He also had a Mark VIII Jag, and he was driving it back from a Concours d'Elegance about ten years ago when a lorry crossed onto the wrong side of the road and hit him head-on. He was killed instantly. The lorry driver was only shocked. It's probable he went to sleep at the wheel. Aunt Jane doesn't drive this car much but she keeps it in memory of Uncle Reg."

“And she doesn't mind you driving it?” I said, still in awe of the gleaming beast before me.

“Well you heard what she said.”

We parked the picnic hamper in the spacious boot, Reggie opened the door for me and I sank into the softest leather I've ever encountered. Reggie got in too and turned on the ignition. The sound of the engine starting was like a purring noise, and we glided forward, just stopping to close the garage door.

Reggie drove down the street and a minute later we were turning right onto the Mumbles Road, heading west.

“We'll look at the Mumbles and visit Gower first and head back to Swansea,” said Reggie.

I gazed at the sparkling waters of Swansea Bay as we drove along.

“This would be a great place to have a railway,” said Reggie.

“Oh yes! I wonder no-one thought of it,” I replied.

“Well they did, back in eighteen hundred and seven. It was the first passenger-carrying railway in the world.”

“That's amazing, but why isn't it there now? What happened to it?”

“The South Wales Transport bus company happened to it,” replied Reggie grimly. “They bought it and they closed it down.”

“What a shame, and so short-sighted. It would be a wonderful tourist attraction, and so useful for commuters travelling to Swansea for work.”

“You don't have to convince me or anyone else who lives here. From time to time there have been moves to open it again but nothing has happened so far. Still, we can live in hope.”

By now we were entering the Mumbles, and I could see the pier and the lifeboat station up ahead. We drove through the narrow streets and beyond the shopping centre, the road climbed up to a car park which gave us a great view of the bay and the lighthouse on the outermost of the rock outcrops which Reggie informed me were the actual Mumbles.

After admiring the view, we headed west along the coast road but this isn't a travelogue so I should confine myself by saying that the scenery was magnificent. Reggie told me that in 1956, the Gower Peninsula was the first place in the U.K., to be designated an 'Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty'. The road was winding and narrow with high hedges or stone walls on either side and I was impressed by how confident Reggie was in driving along it. In places cars coming towards us just barely squeezed by and I was worried that the Jaguar would get scratched, but we made the journey without incident. Here and there we stopped to admire the views, and at one point drove down to Caswell Bay and had a walk on the sand. A paddle would have been nice, but it was still far too cold.

Suddenly Reggie pointed to a sign ahead which read 'Southgate' and said we were nearly at a place he wanted to show me. A little further along he turned into a road called most appropriately 'Sandy Lane' which lead to a small settlement of houses next to a golf course. He found somewhere to park and then said “I'll get our picnic hamper now, and we're going for a short walk.”

To be continued.

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 20   The Gower Peninsula

I carried a blanket and Reggie carried the picnic hamper as we set out across the golf course, taking care not to get in the path of any flying golf balls. I had no idea where we were going until up ahead I saw some ruined stone walls.

“That's Pennard Castle, built about the twelfth century,”said Reggie.

As we approached the ruins I realised that they were right on the edge of a valley or cwm as it's called in Wales, with a stream meandered through it and cattle grazing on the lush grass.

“That stream's called Pennard Pill and it empties into Three Cliffs Bay. I thought we'd have our lunch here but not too close to the edge! We're well away from the golfers so we should be safe.”

We found a secluded spot with a clearing surrounded by gorse bushes, and I spread the blanket out on the grass and we opened the basket and took out the sandwiches, crisps, cake and a bottle of lemonade and cups that Aunt Jane had provided. There was a cool wind but the sun was shining, and my eyes were continually drawn to the wonderful scenery surrounding us.

When we had eaten our fill, Reggie lay on his back, shutting his eyes against the glare of the sun. I lay beside him, my head propped up on an elbow looking at him and thinking how lucky I was. However, I thought he should be paying me some attention, so I selected a long stalk of grass and tickled his nose. Without opening his eyes, his hand came up to brush away the supposed insect. I waited a minute and then tickled him again. This time he opened his eyes, saw what was happening and reached up to pull me down to him and started to kiss me, which was exactly what I wanted him to do of course.

The kiss became more and more passionate and Reggie was obviously becoming aroused and things might have got very frisky indeed, only just then we heard a curious swishing sound. I looked up and could make out the upper half of a golfer using a golf club as a sort of scythe on the tall grass.

“He's looking for his ball,” I whispered to Reggie.

“He must have really hooked it. We're well away from the fairway,” he responded.

Nevertheless, it showed that we were not in as secluded a spot as we'd supposed. The golfer seemed to give up and walked away from us. Whether he had seen us or not I don't know.

“Never mind, I'll make up for it tonight, that's a promise,” I whispered, and Reggie grinned.

“I'll hold you to that.”

We packed up the picnic basket and I folded the blanket and we made our way back to the car. Driving further west along the coast we stopped off so that Reggie could show me the three cliffs after which the bay is named, and then carried on to the westernmost tip of Gower at Rhossili with its beautiful bay, and the headland known as Worms Head which Reggie explained came from the Viking word 'wurm' meaning 'dragon'.

I glanced at my watch and suggested that we had better head back soon if we were taking Aunt Jane out to dinner.

“I need time to get ready, you know,” I said.

We headed back inland and driving through Fairwood Common saw the famous wild ponies which live on the commons throughout Gower.

“They're very hardy. Do you see what they have to eat? It's mainly brambles, gorse and tough grass,” said Reggie. I was very impressed with his knowledge of Gower.

We arrived back at Aunt Jane's house at five-thirty.

“I'm glad you're back. I've booked a table at Belle View Bistro for seven-thirty,” she said.

“That gives me just enough time to get ready,” I joked to see the look on Reggie's face. He agreed to use another bedroom to get ready, so that I could have full use of the bathroom and our bedroom.

I took my blue satin dress to show Aunt Jane.

“Do you think it's too formal for this evening?” I asked.

“Goodness, no,” she replied. “It will look lovely on you, and I know Reggie has brought along a suit. Now I'll have to find something so that I don't look like the poor relation!”

I was first in the shower and then went to the bedroom where I had laid out my clothes on the bed. Tonight was the night for my black satin lingerie – panties, suspender belt, lacey bra and a full slip with French lace on the bust and hem. Once I had carefully drawn my twenty denier sheer stockings up my legs and clipped them in place, I took a look at myself in the full-length mirror and felt incredibly sexy. Now it was time to do my hair and make-up. While I hadn't been doing it for very long, my sister Emma assured me I was now as good at applying it as any girl who had many years' practice. Finally, I stepped into my satin dress and fastened the zip; and then stepped into my five-inch heels, picked up my clutch bag and felt ready to face the world, but first a spritz of perfume and a twirl before the full-length mirror. I was going to knock Reggie for six, no doubt about it.

When I entered the lounge, Aunt Jane was sitting there in a pale purple silk dress, watching the news on the television.

“Goodness me, you look wonderful my dear. What a pity more girls your age don't take the trouble to dress up like that.”

I blushed and thanked her, complimenting her on her dress too.

“I've had it years,” she replied. “I haven't worn it since....” and her voice trailed off. I could guess what she was nearly going to say.

“Well I think it looks lovely, and the colour suits you really well,” I said to fill the awkward silence.

A few minutes later Reggie came down the stairs. He looked so handsome in his suit that my heart skipped a beat. For a moment I thought 'How can I possibly hope to keep this wonderful man?', but then I dismissed the thought. I knew I was going to enjoy being with him for as long as it lasted.

What can I say about the evening? We took a taxi so that Reggie could have something to drink, although all three of us were very restrained in our alcohol intake. The food was delicious and the service excellent. Aunt Jane was great company and the conversation flowed as if she and I had known each other for years. The only moment I thought I had made a mistake was when she asked when Reggie and I had met and I said 'at school'. Then I suddenly thought she might have known that Reggie when to an all-boys school, so I added 'primary school that is, but we kept in touch after we left there.'

We left the restaurant about eleven o'clock with many compliments to the staff and a generous tip left, promising to return again. Arriving back at the house, Aunt Jane said she was very tired and was going straight to bed, but we could have a coffee if we wanted. After she went upstairs, I looked at Reggie and he looked at me. Coffee? No, that really wasn't on our minds.

Once we entered the bedroom we kissed, a long deep kiss. Then I asked Reggie to unzip my dress. It's a funny thing but men never question why a woman needs help unzipping her dress while she managed to zip it up unaided! As I stepped out of it, Reggie's eyes widened when he saw what I was wearing underneath, and as we kissed again, the effect it was having on him was very obvious, even more so when he carefully lifted the slip over my head to reveal the rest of my lingerie. I helped him get undressed, not because he needed help but because I enjoyed doing it, and he enjoyed me doing it too; and after that – well do I really need to go into details? I'm sure your imagination is well ahead of me! It was the end of a perfect day.

Sometime during the night, I awoke. Moonlight shone through the window and dimly lit the room. I turned to my right and saw Reggie's head on the pillow. He was sound asleep, perhaps not surprisingly, and lying on his left side. I quietly slid out of the bed, shed my black lingerie and stockings and slipped on the pink silk nightie I had bought in anticipation of the weekend. Then I returned to the bed, snuggling up to Reggie in the classic 'spoon' position. He murmured something in his sleep and put his right arm around me. I felt secure and loved and I don't think it was long before I fell asleep again.

When I next opened my eyes it was daylight, in fact eight-thirty according to the small clock on the bedside table. I nudged Reggie.

“Come on sleepy-head, time to get up.”

Reggie grunted, opened his eyes and yawned. “Morning already?”

“Come on, let's not waste the day,” I said.

It was first shower for me and I dressed while Reggie was in the bathroom. I wasn't sure what to wear, but decided on my grey woollen skirt with black opaque tights, a camisole over my bra and a woollen jumper on top. After all, it was still bound to be a cool day. I was wondering how often I should wear skirts. While I preferred them of course, I was only too well aware that many young women my age wore jeans and trousers far more often than they wore skirts, so to be constantly in skirts might actually draw attention to myself. How ironic is that?

When we arrived in the kitchen it was to find Aunt Jane cooking breakfast again and I was pleased to see that laver-bread was again on the menu as I enjoyed the taste of it.

“Did you sleep well?” said Aunt Jane, obviously a standard greeting.

“Fine thank you,” was our joint reply.

“Your train to London leaves at five-thirty doesn't it?”

“That's right. We left it as late as possible, but we both have to work on Monday.,” said Reggie.

“Yes, it's a pity we don't have more time to see Swansea,” I said. “I feel I've just scratched the surface and there is so much more to see.”

“Then you must try to come back for longer next time,” said Aunt Jane. “Actually, there is something on today that you might be interested in. There's a concert by one of the best-known Welsh male voice choirs in a chapel in Morriston just outside Swansea. It starts at two o'clock and finishes at about four o'clock. I just happen to have three tickets. If you'd like to go, there would be time to attend the concert and catch the train.”

“Oh Aunt Jane, that would be awesome!” I exclaimed. “I've always loved hearing recordings of Welsh male choirs, but to hear one live would be amazing.”

After breakfast, we finished our packing and then Reggie backed the Jag out of the garage and we loaded our suitcases in the boot. We set off for Swansea which was only a short drive away, Reggie driving and Aunt Jane acting as navigator. She took us on a brief tour of the city, mentioning that it was very badly bombed during the Second World War, but amazingly the twelfth-century castle in the middle of town survived. We had a look at the Marina with the statue of Dylan Thomas and the theatre named in his honour, and the small display of Mumbles Railway memorabilia. Seeing what had been and was now lost, I couldn't get over the short-sightedness of the bus company in closing it down.

After lunch, we headed to Morriston and the Tabernacle Chapel where the concert was to be held. I've always thought of a chapel as a small building but this one held three thousand seats, every one of which was filled before the choir took their places. The concert began with the Welsh National Anthem, 'Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau' ('Land of My Fathers') Everyone stood and sang, including Aunt Jane, but what I didn't expect was that Reggie seemed to know the words too. There was still more for me to learn about this young man! I was determined to get him to teach me the words before we came back to Wales.

The choir sang a number of songs and hymns, but some of the best-known like 'Myfanwy', Calon lân, Sospan fach etc received the greatest applause. I felt tears run down my cheeks at the purity and simplicity of so many of them and the amazing sound of the voices. The two hours flew by and all too soon it was over, and we returned to the car to drive to the station.

Aunt Jane hugged us both and kissed us on the cheeks as she bade us farewell, and made us promise to return as soon as we could. I knew that the life I had chosen meant it was impossible to promise anything too far in advance. The actor gets no annual leave or holiday pay, and must constantly be looking for the next paid job.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 21   Blithe Spirit

It was opening night of the new production of “Dear Brutus”, and the theatre was abuzz with excitement and nervous energy. I am reminded of the musical version of “Sunset Boulevard” where Norma Desmond, the retired silent movie star revisits her old film studios and sings a song which includes the line

'The atmosphere as thrilling here as always'

Theatres are just the same, and at no time more so than on the opening night of a new production. It was in these circumstances that the following incident happened. You may well think it was the product of an overheated imagination, and you may even be right. I can only relate what I experienced and leave the conclusion up to you.

I was sharing a dressing room with Elspeth and also Sharon, one of the other cast members, and there was constant coming and going. By chance, as I was settling down to do my make-up, at which I was now very competent, the room was empty for five minutes. I really appreciated that as I was applying my eye make-up which requires a steady hand. I was concentrating on my eyeliner, when out of the corner of my eye I noticed in the mirror that a young woman was standing at the back of the room smiling at me. Strange, I hadn't heard the door open, and what's more, I didn't recognise her. I thought she might be a friend of Elspeth or Sharon. I finished what I was doing and then paused.

“Hello, I'm Harriet,” I said, still looking at her in the mirror. She didn't reply, and slightly annoyed at her rudeness, I swung around to confront her, and there was nobody there!

You know that expression about the hair standing up on the back of your neck? I promise you it's true. I swung round to look in the mirror again and thank goodness there was no sign of her or I would have run screaming from the room.

Just then, Elspeth came back in. I was tempted to ask her if anyone was in the corridor outside the dressing room, but realised how futile that was. I could hear them walking up and down and talking, although a minute ago there had been complete silence.

Elspeth looked at me curiously. “Are you alright?” she said.

“Yes, just first night nerves you know?” I replied.

“I've never had the chance apart from at the College,” she said sadly.

“I'm sure you will,” I replied, trying to cheer her up while my brain was whirling. I had to talk to someone about this or it would distract me all night, and the only person to talk to was Ma.

I finished getting ready and then telling Elspeth that I was going to talk to Ma about something, I hurried from the dressing-room, down to find Ma in her room just finishing sewing a button on a costume.

“Have you got a minute Ma?” I said. I think it was on the tip of her tongue to say she was too busy but she saw the look on my face and said: “Well if it is only a minute.” A couple of her assistants were there, so we walked to a corner of the room where we could talk without being overheard.

I started off by saying “Ma, I hope you won't laugh at me...” and then went on to tell her what I had seen, well at least what I thought I had seen.

“What was she wearing?” she said.

“Well, it was rather an old-fashioned dress, grey and with a mid-calf hem, and her hair had that nineteen forties look about it, so it was all a bit 'retro'.”

“You've seen Alice,” she said quietly.

“Who's Alice? Is she an actress?”

“Yes she is, or rather was,” said Ma. “Alice was performing in this theatre in the early nineteen forties. It was the time of the blitz and some West End theatres closed because it was thought too dangerous to continue performances. Here, we're a bit out of the city, so it was decided to stay open. The play was Noël Coward's “Blithe Spirit”, and Alice had the role of Elvira, the ghost of the first wife of the lead male character Charles.

“She shared a house with about six girls not far from the theatre, 'digs' as they were called then. Late one night a bomb landed a direct hit on it and everyone including Alice was killed.

“It was a short while afterwards that people started saying they had seen Alice at the theatre. It was only actresses who reported it and led to some remarks about hysterical women of course, but since that time, many people have seen her, and you are the latest.”

I'm sure I had turned pale at this story, even though like most people I refused to believe in ghosts, well at least I had until that moment.

“So does that mean bad luck is coming?” I asked.

“No, on the contrary, she is only seen when the production is going to be a great success,” said Ma. “In fact, if you don't mind, I'd like to pass the word around that she's been seen, but I won't say by whom, and that will be a really positive vibe for the cast and crew.”

“Well alright if you say so.”

“And don't be so surprised at your experience,” said Ma. “Every theatre I know has at least one ghost, in fact some have several – like the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. That's got at least four, maybe more.”

I didn't keep Ma any longer but at least I had an explanation for my experience, even if it was one I found difficulty in believing.

I returned to my dressing room, which was empty, and I felt rather disinclined to stay there, but just then Elspeth burst into the room and I jumped.

“Guess what? Alice has been seen,” she announced with an air of self-importance.

“Who's Alice?” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Elspeth looked at me, and suddenly a smile spread over her face.

“It was you, wasn't it? When I came in before and you were on your own I nearly said that you looked like you had seen a ghost. I'm right aren't I?”

“O.K., you're right, but please don't tell anyone. They'll think I'm going nuts.”

“Well, you're not the first person to see her apparently and I'm told that when she appears that's a sign it's going to be a very successful run.”

“I know, Ma told me that, but I'd still rather you didn't tell anyone.”

“Alright, it's a promise,” she replied.

I never saw Alice again, if indeed I had seen her at all, but Ma was right – that first performance was magical. Jim was in fine form and while I was performing the final few minutes of my scene it felt like the whole audience was holding its breath, a sure sign that they are really engaged with what is happening on-stage. When I ran off the stage and the curtain came down, the applause was thunderous – no other word describes it. All the hard work had been worthwhile.

At the end of the play, we took our bows to a standing ovation, and at Mark's direction, I came on-stage and took a bow by myself. The audience was actually cheering me! I guess that's what comes of having the play's most dramatic moment. Still, it is a very satisfying feeling to know you've done well.

Reggie came round to the dressing room after the show and was admitted after Sharon and I were 'decent'. He was bearing a huge bunch of flowers. Goodness knows what they cost him but I have learned to accept gifts with good grace. I think there is nothing worse than when someone says 'You shouldn't have'. The appropriate answer to that is surely 'Alright, I won't do it again'.

He kissed me on the cheek and said: “Harriet, you were amazing.” Thank goodness Elspeth had already gone home. Nevertheless, I was pleased that after seeing the play three times, he still thought I did a good performance.

We took a taxi back to Louise's house. She had been at the performance too and was equally complimentary. We had some coffee and at my insistence, because it was getting quite late, Reggie took a taxi home.

It's probably fair to say that all artists are exhibitionists. After all, who else would want to spend their time performing in front of a large audience? However it's also fair to say that we often have fairly fragile egos, so although the opinion of the critics would make very little difference to this production with its guaranteed audience of thousands of school children, it still meant a lot to us that our performances should be complimented.

On Monday, I bought all the daily papers, and was pleased to see that of those who reviewed 'Brutus', the opinions were universally positive. I suppose my favourite had to be the one where I was mentioned in the following excerpt.

“Harriet Stow reprised her performance of Margaret from an earlier production and once again held the audience in the palm of her hand as the 'might-have-been' daughter of the failed artist Dearth, (a competent performance from Jim Rogers). Her final moments on stage were truly emotional, and the subsequent ovation richly deserved.”

I hope reproducing that doesn't make me a contender for the 'Swollen Head of the Year' award! Nor the fact that I duly posted the reviews up to Mum to put in her scrapbook of my career. I would have been in trouble if I hadn't!

A couple of days later there was a surprise for me. A small envelope arrived by post at the theatre, I opened it to find a card inside. It featured a line drawing of a theatre scene, and inside was a hand-written message as follows.

Dear Harriet,

I greatly enjoyed your performance in the opening night of 'Dear Brutus'. You are developing into a very accomplished young actress.

The reason I am writing is that I have been contracted to play the part of 'Queen Gertrude' in a new production of 'Hamlet' at Stratford in about four months' time. The director who is a long-time friend of mine is looking for someone of about your age to play the role of Ophelia, and I suggested that you might like to audition for the role.

The production will not be starting rehearsals before the end of the 'Brutus' season.

Please ring me on ...(here she gave me her telephone number) and let me know if you are interested.

Yours sincerely,

Emily Good.

I read the card slowly twice more and realised that my hand was shaking. I was being offered the opportunity of a lifetime. When I thought of all the other actresses of my age who might take the role, even if I made it to understudy that would be an achievement in itself. I remembered what Emma said about understudies getting a chance to perform, and knew I would never forgive myself if I turned down this opportunity.

That evening I phoned Mum and told her what had happened. She was as excited as I was.

“Wait until I tell Emma,” she said.

“I feel a bit embarrassed about that, Mum. Emma has longed for a big break and here I am, with just one role under my belt and getting this offer. Don't you think she'll be wildly jealous? I know I would be in her position.”

“I'll let you into a secret,” said Mum. “Recently we were talking about you and Emma was wondering if you had telephoned Dame Emily yet. 'I hope she does, Mum,' she said. 'It could lead to great things for her.' I'm telling you this so you know she will be thrilled at what's happened.”

“Well, it hasn't happened yet Mum. There might be twenty people auditioning and I mightn't even get to the short list.”

“That doesn't matter,” said Mum. “Your name will start to get known, and the story will get around that you know Dame Emily. Anyway, let's be positive about this; you have as good a chance as anyone else.”

The next day I rang Dame Emily. I confess I was shaking with nerves, and when the familiar voice answered the phone I took so long to announce myself that she had to say 'Hello?' twice. Finallyr I took a deep breath and started to speak.

“Hello Dame Emily, it's Harriet Stow. Thank you so much for the card and the offer to audition for Ophelia.” It all came out in one breath.

“Harriet my dear, I'm so glad to hear from you. I did ask you to call me the next time you were in London but I understand that you have been busy with rehearsals.”

I gulped. “Well actually Dame Emily, I didn't want to take advantage of your kindness, me being at the very start of my career, and you being....well, you know.”

She laughed. “We all have to start somewhere Harriet. I can remember being your age and really nervous, wondering if anyone would think I was good enough to act professionally. Seeing you on opening night I could tell that you are steadily improving and it's good to see. I wouldn't have recommended that you audition for Ophelia if I didn't think you could play the part.”

“Thank you so much, Dame Emily. I really appreciate what you are doing for me and of course, I want to audition.”

“Good,” she said. “I'll give you Tony, the director's phone number, and you must tell him you're the young lady I recommended.”

Thank goodness I'd had the foresight to have a pen and paper handy. I recorded the number and we finished the call. It was only then that I realised that I had stopped shaking.

I picked up the phone again and dialed the number she had given me.

“Hello, Tony Robertson speaking.”

“Mr Robertson, its Harriet Stow. Dame Emily Good gave me your number to ring regarding auditioning for the part of Ophelia at Stratford.”

“Hello Harriet, yes she did mention you to me. I'm sorry, I haven't heard your name before, can you give me some background, please? I know you are currently playing in 'Dear Brutus'. What other roles have you played?”

My heart sank. “Actually, this is my first role but I'm playing it again in a new production.”

“I see,” he replied. “What about your training? Which drama school did you attend?”

I gulped. This was getting worse and worse. “Actually I didn't go to drama school. I was working as ASM for the Apollo Players in Bridchester. Err, that's on the Yorkshire coast. The actor playing Margaret was taken ill and because I knew the role I was asked to take over at short notice. I did audition for the new production and was given the role.”

There was silence at the end of the line and my heart sank.

“Harriet, I'll be frank with you. I have a short list of four young actresses who are auditioning for Ophelia. They've all had more experience than you and two of them were trained at RADA. I'm sure you've heard of our company and know of the standards we set. However, Dame Emily is a friend and in deference to her, I will add you to the list. Since a number of people auditioning are currently working, I have scheduled the auditions for next Sunday, here at Stratford. Can you be here by two o'clock?”

“Of course, Mr Robertson,” I replied, wondering how on earth I was going to get there.

“Good. I have asked everyone to read from Act III Scene 1, starting from the end of Hamlet's 'To be or not to be' speech where he says

'The fair Ophelia!- Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins rememb'red'

through to and including

'O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!'

I'd like you to do it without the book, will that be alright?”

“Certainly Mr Robertson,” I replied sounding as confident as I could be.

“Good, I'll look forward to seeing you at Stratford next Sunday,” he said and hung up.

I stood for a moment staring at the phone. Without putting it into so many words, Tony Robertson had made it quite clear that my chances of getting the role were near enough to zero. I felt like bursting into tears, but thank goodness at that precise moment Reggie phoned me.

“What's up babe?” he said. “You don't sound very happy.”

“Oh Reggie, I just spoke to the director of 'Hamlet' and he told me there are four other girls auditioning for Ophelia who are much more qualified than me, and he's only going to hear me as a favour to Dame Emily. He didn't say as much, but I don't think he really expects me to bother coming for the audition and I think he's probably right; it would be just a waste of time.”

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 22    My second audition

“Harriet Stow,” said Reggie, and it was the first time I'd heard him sound cross with me, “If you don't go to that audition, you'll be letting down not only Dame Emily and all your family and friends, but more importantly, you'll be letting yourself down. If you don't have self-belief, how will anyone else believe in you? You can and you will go to that audition, alright? Either that or you had better forget about a career as an actress.”

I blushed hotly and felt tears springing to my eyes, I felt ashamed of myself. He was right of course. I couldn't expect roles to fall into my lap the way 'Margaret' in 'Dear Brutus' had. I was going to have to fight for them.

“Reggie,” I said taking a deep breath. “You are absolutely right. I was being a wuss. I will go to the audition. Now I'm going to find out how to get there in time on Sunday.”

“Would you like me to come along as moral support?” asked Reggie.

“Of course I would Reggie. You are my best friend. I'm going to check if there's a train that will get me there in time and I'll call you back if you like.”

It turned out there was a train leaving Marylebone Station at eight-forty which arrived at Stratford-upon-Avon at eleven-fifteen. That would give me plenty of time as the next train arrived at one-fifteen, cutting it a bit fine. I phoned Reggie back and he agreed.

“I'll arrive at Louise's house at seven o'clock and we'll take a taxi to Marylebone Station. How does that sound? Traffic shouldn't be too bad on a Sunday.”

Not for the first time I wondered what I had done to have such a wonderful boyfriend.

I told Martin about my audition in Stratford. I didn't tell him how Tony Robertson seemed a bit reluctant to audition me, so he congratulated me on getting a hearing. I made sure he was aware that if I was successful, it would not affect my ability to perform in 'Brutus' to the end of the season.

After the Saturday matinee and evening performances, I knew that I would need all my energy to get up early on Sunday morning, travel to Stratford and give a good performance at the audition. I wasn't worried about remembering the script, only about performing it as well as I possibly could.

I didn't hang around the theatre at the end of the evening performance, but quickly removed my make-up, changed out of my costume and rushed out to where a taxi was waiting for me to take me to Louise's home where I went straight to bed after setting the alarm.

At six o'clock the next morning, I was up and straight into the shower, dressed and had a light breakfast before Reggie knocked on the door at seven o'clock. He had come from the tube station by taxi and we both got in and headed off to Marylebone station. The trip to Stratford was without incident and we had plenty of time to walk through the town and soak up the atmosphere, plus have a light lunch before going to the Imperial Shakespeare Theatre. I could hardly believe I was in the town called home by the world's most famous playwright, and that I was going to audition for one of his most famous plays. Once we found the theatre complex, Reggie said he would sit by the riverside and wait for me there.

I had never been to Stratford before and its famous theatre complex. The main proscenium arch theatre had an apron extending beyond it and a seating capacity of fourteen hundred people in the stalls, circle, and balcony.

I had given some thought about what to wear to the audition. I didn't want to wear a costume as such, in fact, I wasn't even sure if the production would be in the traditional sixteenth to seventeenth-century costume, or in modern dress. I rather hoped it would be the former. I had noticed a full-length black skirt in a store I passed on my way to the theatre in London, and had teamed it with a black top with an embroidered design. I wore it with low-heeled shoes and black stockings, and hoped it would be suitable as an outfit which could just as easily belong to the sixteenth century as the twenty-first. I combed my hair and let it hang straight, and I only wore usual street make-up which I knew would make my face appear rather pale in stage lighting.

I had been told to enter at the stage door and was directed to the auditorium. The size of the theatre was rather intimidating but I was determined to hold my nerve. A lady with a clipboard approached and asked my name, and then directed me to where four other young women about my age were seated. I recognised two of them from appearances in television series. I sat down beside them and we nodded to each other. A couple of men were standing near the stage and I asked the girl next to me if she could point out Tony Robertson, which she did. Only one of the girls was wearing a skirt, the rest were in jeans. I hoped I would get some marks for making an effort. I glanced at my watch. It was exactly two o'clock.

Tony Robertson looked up from his notes and directed his gaze towards us.

“ Ladies, we are very fortunate that David Lodge who is playing the part of Hamlet is here today and has agreed to play opposite you. Joanna, would you go up on the stage please?”

There was a subdued murmur amongst us as the well-known actor strode onto the stage. If Tony Robertson had deliberately decided to put us under pressure, he couldn't have arranged it better. David smiled at Joanna and shook her hand but it was obvious to us that she felt intimidated. They began their dialogue and Joanna stumbled over her words a couple of times. She looked despairingly at Tony at the end but all he said was “Thank you Joanna, we'll be in touch.” With that, she hurried off the stage.

Myf was called next. In response to my whispered query to Helen beside me, I learned it was short for Myfanwy which I recognised as a Welsh name, although her accent was pure South England. She had the advantage of not being surprised by David's presence and her performance was much more assured. Tony thanked her with almost the same words. He wasn't giving anything away.

Phoebe was next, one of the girls I recognised from the television. She was good – I mean very good, and my heart sank a little. Then Helen was called up and I whispered 'Good luck' as she stood up. I rated her performance 'good' but not as good as Phoebe's. Now it was my turn.

It seemed a very long walk to the stage. David smiled at me, sensing my nervousness and whispered. “You'll be fine.” As has happened to me before, once I was acting, the nerves disappeared and I actually enjoyed myself. Here I was on-stage with one of England's finest actors. I've been told that if a sportsman plays against a top player, it makes them lift their game, and so it seemed to me, acting with this star of stage, screen, and television. At the end of the scene, he took my hand and raised it to his lips before walking off and leaving me there.

I was expecting Tony's standard 'thank you' but to my surprise, it didn't happen. “Very good Harriet. I'd like to hear some more. Do you have something else you can give us? Maybe some other Shakespeare?”

It so happened that I had been reading on past my lines for the audition, and as usual, the words had stuck in my mind.

“Well, I could do Gertrude's speech on hearing of Ophelia's death,” I said.

“Yes, please let us hear it,” he said, and so I began. Shakespeare's words are so wonderful, could anyone not love performing them?

“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
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,....”

and so on to

“...but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.”

There was silence for about ten seconds after I finished, and then a smattering of applause from those present. Tony Robertson said “Harriet, did you learn that in case you needed it for today?”

“No Mr Robertson, I read it while learning my other lines and it just stayed in my mind.”

I'm not sure if he believed me or not. Anyway, it was at this point that he thanked me and said he would be in touch, just as he had to the other girls, so I left the stage and walked out of the theatre to find Reggie relaxing on a seat by the banks of the Avon that flows right by the theatre building.

“How did it go?” he said.

“I'm not sure. The director asked me to do an extra piece and he didn't ask that of the other girls. I don't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Anyway, for better or worse it's done now and I just have to wait to hear from him.”

Since this was my first time in Stratford, we did check out some of the tourist areas, including the house which was Shakespeare's birthplace, King Edward IV school that he attended, his grave in Holy Trinity church, and finally the site of his last house, New Place which unfortunately was demolished by a later owner. Lovely gardens now occupy the site including a knot garden.

We concluded our visit with a light meal in a tea shop before returning to the railway station to take the train back to London just before six o'clock.

Reggie escorted me back to the door of Louise's home and we exchanged a fond farewell kiss.

“Try not to worry,” he said. “Even if you miss out on this role, you are still a star in my eyes and always will be.”

How could I not love a man like that?

On Monday we just had an evening performance, so I went out to do a little shopping and then returned to the house to make myself some soup. The phone rang and I jumped.

“Miss Stow? It's Tony Robertson. How are you?”

“I'm fine, thank you Mr Robertson,” I answered, thinking to myself ''he's softening me up for the bad news'

“Thank you for coming to the auditions yesterday,” he began. “All the applicants were good and it was hard to make a decision, but eventually we narrowed it down to two applicants, and at that point, it became even more difficult to choose. In the end we offered the role to Phoebe Wells and she has accepted it. I hope you are not too disappointed.”

Of course I was disappointed – what did he think? I smiled, because it shows in your voice and replied indirectly.

“She was very good. Please pass on my congratulations.”

“Well, you might be able to do that yourself, since I'd like to offer you the position of understudy to her. How do you feel about that?”

My heart leapt. I remembered what Emma had said to me and immediately replied.

“I would like that very much Mr Robertson.” It was, after all, a foot in the door.

“There's one thing more,” he continued. “As you are aware, there are only two female roles in Hamlet. You will also know that Dame Emily is playing the other one, Queen Gertrude, and we have of course appointed an understudy for her too. However, we were all very impressed with the way you were able to recite her speech about the death of Ophelia without actually studying it. What we would therefore like to propose is that you also be a back-up understudy for that role too.”

I gasped and he heard me.

“I know what you are thinking – Gertrude is Hamlet's mother and so, much older than you. However, it's amazing what can be done with make-up and costume, and also the way the actor plays the role. I noticed that your voice took on a more mature sound when you performed that extract. We can give it a try anyway and see how it goes. You would receive extra remuneration for that of course.”

“Well Mr Robertson, if you think I can do it, I'm certainly willing to give it a try.”

“Good,” he replied. “Well, I won't keep you. I imagine you will be getting ready to go to the theatre soon for tonight's performance. I'll try to come down to see it if I have time”

“You would be very welcome to come and see it. The house is often full, mainly school students who are studying it this year, but I'm sure a seat could always be found for you.”

He laughed. “Well, we are all part of a tight-knit fraternity and have to look after each other.” And with that, he hung up.

I realised that my heart was racing. I was going to become a member of the Imperial Shakespeare Company! Alright, I would be a very small part of it, but this was something most actors would give their eye teeth for. I thought of my sister. How was I going to break the news to her? She couldn't help but be jealous. Perhaps I would let Mum know first and ask her to pass on the news.

I checked my watch. I had time, so I rang Mum and fortunately, she was in. She was thrilled to hear my news of course.

“There's one thing that worries me, Mum,” I said. “How do you think Emma will take the news? She's slogged away in the Apollo Players all these years, and then I come along and everything seems to be falling into my lap. She can't help but be jealous.”

“I'm sure she'll be very glad for you,” replied Mum. “But if you like, I will break the news to her.”

“Would you mind doing that? I feel like a coward, but perhaps it would be better coming from you.”

“I don't mind at all my dear. Have you contacted Dame Emily about it?”

“Not yet, but I will. Heavens, I just saw the time. I've got a show to act in, and I'd better not be late or they will think I'm getting too big for my boots.”

When I arrived at the theatre, I ran into Martin and he already knew!

“I believe congratulations are in order,” he smiled.

“How did you know?” I gasped.

“You'd be surprised. The theatrical community is like a family. Word gets around.”

“I can hardly believe it myself. It still seems like a dream.”

“Have you checked with Phoebe yet whether she's had her appendix out?”

I blushed and we both laughed.

“Well I'll have to think of something else if she has,” I said with a smile.

When I arrived in the dressing room, Elspeth was there, so I told her what had happened.

“So I'm going to learn what it's like to be an understudy too,” I said.

The next day I rang Dame Emily. I had to leave her a message but only half an hour later she rang me back. I was still getting used to the idea of being friends with one of Britain's most renowned actresses. I told her about my understudy appointment.

“Were you very disappointed, my dear?” she said.

“Not really,” I replied. “When I saw the competition I was surprised and pleased to be offered the understudy position. Phoebe Wells is very good and she deserved the role.”

“It's very decent of you to say so,” said Dame Emily.

I went on to tell her about my secondary role as 'reserve understudy' for Queen Gertrude. She laughed at that.

“Goodness me! Tony must think there's some risk of me dropping off the perch, in which case Madge Browning will step into my shoes and you'll be a double understudy. Just wait until I see him!” She sounded amused rather than offended by the situation. I certainly doubted whether I would ever play the Queen, but I was glad to receive extra money just for studying another role.

“I think I'm much too young to play the queen,” I said.

“Well, I'm much too old,” she replied. “After all, in those days, girls often had babies at age fifteen or so, so really I'm old enough to be Hamlet's grandmother, not his mother. Theatre is all about 'suspension of disbelief' my dear.”

I was too polite to say it, but I thought that one reason for asking Dame Emily to perform was not only that she's an amazing actress, but also that famous names get 'bums on seats' as they say. I couldn't imagine a time when seeing the name 'Harriet Stow' on the cast list would encourage people to buy tickets but you never know.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 23   Two peas in a pod?

The season of 'Dear Brutus' continued, and life developed its own routine. Maybe the terms 'routine' and 'actress' sound like a contradiction, but every occupation has its regular activities. We were performing six evening performances a week, and matinees on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, nine in total, quite a heavy workload. However, my bank account was building up nicely and being young I had plenty of energy.

Reggie played football on Saturdays but kept Sundays free so that we could be together. If the weather was good, we would go out somewhere. One Sunday we took a boat down to the Royal Observatory at Greenwich, and like thousands before us and since, took pictures of each other standing astride the Prime Meridian with a foot in each hemisphere. Other Sundays when the weather was bad, we went to the cinema or spent the day in Reggie's flat in Southgate 'playing house' as the saying goes. If Reggie's flatmate Richard was out, this inevitably led to some time together in the bedroom, I think these were our favourite Sundays.

So the weeks passed, until something happened, quite by chance which disturbed the equanimity of my life.

Louise's son Anthony normally came home from school about four-thirty, and I left for the theatre about six o'clock, around the time his mother arrived home. We usually exchanged polite greetings, he went to his room, and I continued with what I was doing, often mundane tasks like ironing. On this particular day, I intended to call at a shop to pick up a dress they had altered for me, so I left about four-thirty just as Anthony arrived home. After visiting the shop, I was heading towards the tube station when I suddenly realised that I had left behind a book that Elspeth had loaned me and that I had promised to return that day so she could take it back to the library.

I had plenty of time, so I turned around, walked back to the house, and let myself in. It was silent, so climbing the stairs I called out “It's only me.” to Anthony, wherever he was. I heard a sort of gasp and a figure rushed along the corridor at the head of the stairs. As I reached the top, I saw Anthony run into the bathroom and lock the door. I saw something else too – he was wearing a dress.

I paused for a moment. What should I do? Should I pretend I hadn't seen anything, or should I speak to him about it? Perhaps if it wasn't for my own special circumstances I would have chosen the former, but in the end I chose the latter. I walked up to the door and knocked softly on it.

“Anthony,” I said.

“Go away!” He was crying.

“It's alright Anthony, really,” I said trying to speak calmly.

“Please go away,” he repeated between sobs.

“I can't pretend I didn't see you, Anthony. I think you should come out and we can talk about it.”

There was silence for about a minute, apart from some loud sniffs.

“Do you promise not to laugh at me?” he said.

“Yes, I promise.”

The door was unlocked and opened about an inch. I understood why he had asked me to promise. He had made an attempt at applying makeup. It might have passed muster in a circus ring, but nowhere else. He had applied some mascara to his eyes and now tears had made black streaks run down his cheeks which were red with excess blusher. Lipstick spilled over his lips, and looked totally grotesque. This was where my experience in acting came in useful. I kept a straight face. Reassured he opened the door wider.

“I know I look like a clown,” he said miserably. I answered indirectly.

“Girls don't instinctively know how to apply makeup, Anthony, they have to be taught. My sister taught me. I remember her first rule was 'less is more'. In other words, makeup is meant to enhance your features, so the less you apply the better.”

Anthony looked a bit calmer. “Would you teach me?” he asked.

“I could teach you, with your mum's permission,” I replied. “But tell me, where did you get the clothes and makeup from?”

“They were things my oldest sister left behind when she moved out,” he replied. “She had so much stuff and maybe she didn't have room for it all.”

That was a relief. I was hoping it wasn't his mother's clothes, and especially not her makeup, although she would almost certainly have noticed if he has used it.

“I know you won't understand,” Anthony continued. (He was calmer, and seemed to be a bit more confident in talking to me now). “Girls can wear anything they like, even clothes that look like ones boys wear, but if I walked down the street wearing a dress, everyone would stare at me and think I was weird.”

“How do you feel when you wear girls' clothes?” I asked. “Have you been doing it for long?”

Anthony blushed. “I've been doing it for a few years now. I don't know what made me start. Maybe it's the feeling I've had for years that I wasn't like the other boys, and I just thought that girls have such nice clothes, and I loved the material and the way they felt when I wore them." It all came out in a rush. “I used to sneak into my sister's room and try her clothes on when everyone was out, but it got much easier when she moved out and left things behind. When I first put on some underwear and a dress, it just felt so 'right' to me. Does that make any sense?”

'Oh Anthony, if you only knew,' I thought to myself. Here I was being a girl, giving advice to someone who was probably a lot more like me than he knew.

Out loud I said “Yes it does,” and then thinking that perhaps I was in danger of giving myself away I added, “This is a secret between you and me, but I happen to know someone who was a boy and is now having treatment because she realises that she should have been born a girl. Do you think you feel that way?”

“Oh yes, I do!” Anthony responded enthusiastically. “But I was afraid to tell anyone because I knew they wouldn't understand. Do you think I could talk to your friend?”

“I don't think that's possible,” I replied. “She swore me to secrecy about her identity, so I've told you as much as I can, but you can talk to me about it if you like.”

“Yes please,” he replied. “I never expected to find someone who could understand and not laugh at me.”

“Anthony, I think you should talk to your mother about how you feel,” I said. “You can't keep this a secret forever; someone else is bound to see you wearing a dress sooner or later. Judging by what my friend said, you should talk to a doctor who specialises in what's called 'gender dysphoria'.”

Anthony looked frightened again. “I don't know how to talk to Mum about it, and especially Dad. He was so pleased to have a son after three daughters. How can I tell him I want to be his daughter too?” He paused. “I don't suppose you would talk to Mum for me?”

What was I getting myself into? However, having come this far, I didn't seem to have much choice.

“Alright, I'll talk to her, but then she will want to talk to you. You know that don't you?”

“Yes, but at least she will get over the initial shock,” he replied.

“Alright. Well, you and your dad play tennis tomorrow morning, don't you? I'll be here and I think your mum will be too, so I'll talk to her then. Be prepared she'll want to talk to you when you come home.”

“I will, and thank you Harriet – you're a real friend.”

I glanced at my watch. “Goodness, it's time I went to the theatre. Are you alright removing your makeup before your mum gets home?”

“Yes, I've got some makeup remover Jeanette left behind.”

“What about eye makeup remover?”

“Is that different?” he asked.

“Well, yes it is. Come on, I'll see if I can find some for you.”

We walked into Jeanette's room and fortunately, I found some eye makeup remover as well as cleansing oil for the skin and wipes to apply it. That was lesson one for Anthony who didn't realise that there are different types of makeup removers.

Once I showed him how to use them, I told him I really had to go, so after returning to my room and picking up the forgotten book which had led to all the drama, I left the house and set off for the theatre.

The following morning I was up at eight-thirty and showered and dressed. Since it was Saturday with a matinee as well as an evening show, I usually took it fairly easy in the morning, maybe tidying my room or catching up on correspondence As I expected, Anthony and his father went off to play tennis, and about eleven o'clock, Louise asked me if I'd like to have a cup of coffee.

After we sat down at the kitchen table, I said to her “I'd like to talk to you about Anthony.”

“Why? What's he done?” She sounded alarmed.

“Nothing. Well, nothing bad anyway. I had better explain.”

So I told her about coming home unexpectedly and seeing Anthony wearing a dress and how we'd had a chat.

“I didn't tell him about me. I'm trying not to tell more people than I have to, and anyway it might seem that I was encouraging him.” I paused and looked at Louise. “You don't seem particularly surprised.”

“Well it was a feeling I had about him,” she said. “He doesn't seem to get on well with the boys at school, in fact, he seems more comfortable in the company of girls. I also noticed that someone had been in Jeanette's room and it could only have been him. What is your impression of him?”

“Yes, I agree with you,” I replied. “I'm sure you know that males dressing as females can either be transvestites or it may be because they are transgendered and feel more comfortable in women's clothes. That's the impression I get about Anthony. I know it's really none of my business, but it might be worth taking him to see a specialist. That's what I did and now I've started treatment.

“I did tell Anthony that after I'd spoken to you, you would want to speak to him. He's very worried about how you, and especially his dad will react to this, so he thought that me speaking to you first would give you time to 'get over the shock' as he put it.”

“Well, despite my suspicions, it is a bit of a shock,” said Louise. “May I ask what sort of treatment you are receiving at present?”

“Yes, I'm taking a drug called Aldactone which is an anti-androgen. The idea is to stop me from developing male characteristics for the time being, until my specialist is sure I am serious about wanting to spend the rest of my life as a woman. It's a reversible medication so if I stopped taking it then the androgens would start working again. Of course I have no intention of changing my mind about becoming a woman. Later I hope to start taking oestrogen, the female hormone, and that is not a reversible step. The final step is surgery, but that can only happen after a couple of years of treatment and living successfully as a woman.”

“I see,” said Louise. “Well thank you for giving me that information. I'm not sure what Bob will think if he ends up with four daughters, but as far as I am concerned, Anthony is my child and I will support him in whatever he wishes to do.”

“I'm glad you see it that way,” I replied. “My mother and sister are supporting me in the same way, and it certainly makes a difference to my well-being. I would hate to be with a family who disapproved of what I'm doing. That would make it very difficult, especially as it's something I feel I have to do. I've heard of trans people who were rejected by their family and committed suicide, and I'm sure you don't want that.”

"Heavens, no!" exclaimed Louise.

We finished our conversation at this point and I prepared a light lunch before heading off to the theatre. I hoped that what I had said was going to help Anthony when he faced his mother later that day.

It was late when I arrived back from the theatre, so I didn't see Anthony until Sunday morning at breakfast. Obviously, that wasn't the right time to find out what he and Louise had said to each other. However, reading the body language between Anthony and his mother I had hopes that all had gone well.

Reggie arrived for our regular Sunday meeting about nine-thirty. The sky was leaden with rain threatening, so when Reggie asked what I'd like to do, I suggested a trip to the cinema. Mark, our director had mentioned at our regular weekly cast meeting that one of the independent cinemas was holding a retrospective of the famous Swedish director Ingmar Bergman's films.

“If you've never seen any of his films, I advise you to do so – the acting is truly amazing,” he said.

I looked up the newspaper and saw that they were screening the 1957 film 'Wild Strawberries' on Sunday afternoon, so after a look around the shops and a light lunch, we went to the cinema.

What can I say? I cried of course. I think Reggie had a lump in his throat too. Featuring the great Swedish director Victor Sjöström in his final acting role, the luminous beauty of Bibi Andersson and Ingrid Thulin and the amazing talents of the many others who worked regularly with Bergman, it was a revelation in ensemble acting. There is something beautiful about the spoken Swedish language too, even though I don't understand a word of it. The film was subtitled of course and I don't find that a problem. If you've never seen it, or any other Bergman film, all I can do, like Mark, is suggest that you do, and if possible with someone you love as I did. We sat there holding hands, spellbound.

After the film, we went for tea before Reggie took me back to the Burton's after another wonderful day with him.

Monday was only an evening performance, so I waited for Anthony to arrive home to find out how things had gone with his mother. I was sitting in the kitchen having a cup of tea when he arrived home.

“Hello Harriet, how are you?” he said smiling. That was a good sign.

“I'm fine Anthony. How about you? How did your chat with your mum go?”

“It went quite well. Thank you so much for paving the way for me. She's had a chat with Dad. I don't think he was so pleased but he usually goes along with her decisions.”

“So is she alright about you dressing as a girl?”

“Yes, so long as it's only at home. She also said it's alright for you to teach me how to use makeup, but I'll have to use my pocket money if I want to buy some more.”

'I think she's done the right thing,' I thought to myself. 'If she forbade him to dress he'd probably do it anyway. This way she'll find out if it's a passing phase or something he is serious about.'

“I don't suppose you've got time to give me a makeup lesson now?” he asked.

I suspected that was coming, so I agreed.

“Let's go up to Jeanette's bedroom and see what makeup she's left,” I said.

We had a look at what was on the dressing table and in the drawers. There was some moisturiser and foundation. I knew that ideally, he shouldn't be using another person's makeup, particularly as it was getting rather old, but I also knew that he was anxious to learn, so I decided that I'd go along with it for the time being and suggest that I buy some new makeup for him to use as his own. I hoped he was given a reasonable amount of pocket money. Good makeup isn't cheap.

“You must always wash your face before applying makeup and then add a little moisturiser.” I said. “Then comes the foundation, and after that some powder, and this is where you use the brush. I see Jeanette left some lip gloss and I suggest that is better than lipstick for a start. It will give you a more natural look.

“By the way, if you are going to dress as a girl, you need a girl's name to go with it. Have you thought of one yet?”

Anthony hesitated. “Well, I've decided on Antonette. What do you think?”

“Yes that's a pretty name and it's close to your boy name so it will be easy for your family to remember.”

So maybe I'd better start using Antonette from now on, and say that 'she' went to the bathroom and washed 'her' face before coming back to the bedroom, where I sat her in front of the dressing table mirror and showed her how to apply the makeup I had selected.

“I think we'll leave the eye makeup for another day,” I suggested once we had finished. “What do you think of what we've done so far?”

She smiled. “Well, it's so much better than what I did the other day. I can't thank you enough.”

“Well, why don't I leave you to get dressed and then I'll see how you look?” I suggested.

I went downstairs and read a magazine for about fifteen minutes until I heard footsteps on the stairs and Antonette came into the room looking nervous.

“That looks really nice,” I said, and in fact she did look quite feminine despite her short hair. I suggested that maybe we could brush that to make it look more like a girl's short hairstyle, so Antonette went upstairs and fetched a brush for me. I did my best and she was pleased with the result.

“Well, are you going to stay dressed until your mum comes home to see what you look like?” I asked.

Antonette blushed “I'm scared,” she said.

“There's no need to, you look really nice,” I said. “It's going to be hard the first time, but I'm sure she will be pleased with the way you look." I noticed that she was wearing slippers. "You're going to need a pair of girl's shoes. I suggest low heels to start with, maybe 'Mary Janes'."

It was time for me to leave for the theatre. As I walked along the road to the station I called Louise on my mobile phone.

“Hi Louise, it's Harriet here. I thought I'd give you a heads up that you'll probably be meeting Antonette for the first time when you get home.”

“Oh hi, Harriet. Thanks for that. How were things when you left?”

“Well she's very nervous, so there's a chance she mightn't appear. We've done a bit of basic makeup, nothing over the top. I think she's learned that lesson.”

Louise laughed. “Well thank you, Harriet. I take it that she doesn't know about your background?”

“I think it's best not to tell her at this stage. Maybe later on if it seems this is something she wants to do on a permanent basis.”

“Well I guess by allowing her to dress, we'll find out in time if it's a passing fancy or not.”

By now I was nearly at the station so we said goodbye and rang off. I wondered if Antonette would still be present when Louise arrived home, but that was entirely up to her.

On Tuesday, I had a matinee as well as an evening performance so it wasn't possible for me to speak to Anthony/Antonette and ask how Monday had gone. I expected to find out the next day, but it was not to be.

About seven o'clock Wednesday morning Louise knocked on my door and told me that my sister Emma was on the phone wanting to speak to me and sounding really upset. I hurriedly got out of bed, put on my dressing gown and ran downstairs to where the phone was located.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 24   Mum

I picked up the phone and said “Emma? What's wrong?” Emma sounded like she had been crying.

“It's Mum, Sis. She's in hospital with pneumonia and she's very ill.”

A cold shudder ran through my body. “When I spoke to her a couple of days ago, she said she had a bad cold, but nothing worse than that.”

“I know,” said Emma. “You know what she's like – 'soldiering on'. She didn't seem too bad when I went to the theatre yesterday afternoon, but when I came home, she was in bed, running a temperature and really sick. I called a locum doctor who came quite quickly, thank goodness. He checked her out and said she had pneumonia and he rang for an ambulance to take her to the local hospital. That's where I'm calling from now. She's on a drip with intravenous antibiotics but she's still really sick and now she's delirious. Harriet, I'm really afraid for her.”

“Oh Emma, why didn't you ring me last night?” I felt myself close to tears.

“Mum told me not to. She was lucid then, and she said she'd only worry if you were running around at night trying to get here. Can you come up today – please?”

“I'm sure I can,” I replied. “I'll ring Mark our director. I've got an understudy who's been itching to play the role. I've been coaching her and I'm sure she'll be alright, not that that matters. This is an emergency.”

“Alright. I'll be at the hospital if you come straight here.”

Emma hadn't said as much, but of course she was supposed to perform in the evening, and unlike me she didn't have an understudy. I quickly told Louise what had happened and then rang Mark. He was very understanding and told me to go to Bridchester immediately and not to worry about the play. He was sure that after my coaching Elspeth would perform the role very well.

Louise told me to go upstairs and pack and she would make me some breakfast.

“I don't feel like eating,” I said, but she replied that I must have something before getting on the train, so I didn't argue, but ran upstairs and quickly packed some clothes. When I came down again, breakfast was on the table and Louise told me that her husband Bob would drive me to the station.

“You've all been so kind,” I said, tears starting in my eyes.

“Nonsense,” she replied. “This is an emergency and we must all do what we can, both for you and your mum.”

As Bob drove me to Kings Cross station, I phoned Reggie to tell him what was happening. Bless him he immediately offered to drive me to Brid, but I told him I was taking the train, and that I would keep him posted. It all seemed like a nightmare and I was wishing I could wake up and find that I was imagining it.

I booked my ticket and the train was due to leave at eight-fifty. When I reached my seat, there was a middle-aged couple sitting opposite me and the man immediately offered to put my suitcase in the luggage rack. Chivalry is not yet dead! I couldn't help thinking that if I had presented as a young man, he wouldn't have offered. There are many advantages in being a young woman.

The train left a few minutes later and for a while I watched the passing scenery. I enjoy travelling by train; it always puts me in mind of lines from the poem 'Travel' by Edna St Vincent Millay;

My heart is warm with the friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing;
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
No matter where it's going.

After a while I took out my copy of 'Hamlet' which I had decided to read right through to get a better idea of Ophelia's relationship with the other characters. I studied it for a while and then thanks to the gentle rocking of the train I drifted off to sleep.

When I awoke and looked at my watch over an hour had passed. The couple opposite had disappeared and I confess my first instinct was to look for my suitcase, but it was still in the luggage rack. It's sad that we have become so suspicious of people. A couple of minutes later they arrived back and took their seats.

“Hello again,” said the woman. “We didn't want to disturb you, You must be very tired.”

“I do work late into the night,” I said. “And I had to get up earlier than usual this morning. My mum is sick and I'm going to see her.”

“Oh dear,” said the woman. “Nothing too bad I hope?”

“Yes it is. My sister rang to say Mum's got pneumonia and she's in hospital. She's a widow; there's only my sister with her and she is due to be on stage this evening. I know that sounds strange but she doesn't have an understudy and the rest of the cast depend on her to be there. I would have come up anyway of course.”

“We were wondering why you were reading 'Hamlet',” said the man. “Are you on the stage too?”

I blushed. “Yes I am.”

“My name's Jim Franklin and this is my wife Esther.”

“I'm please to meet you. I'm Harriet Stow.”

“Harriet Stow?” said Esther. “That name sounds familiar.”

“You're probably thinking of the American author Harriet Beecher Stowe who wrote 'Uncle Tom's Cabin',” I said for what felt like the thousandth time.

“No, I don't think so. Our daughter who lives in London is a teacher, and she recently took her class to see a play, 'Dear, Dear...'?”

“Dear Brutus,” I prompted her. “Yes, that's the play I'm in. My understudy is taking over while I'm away.”

“Yes, that's it. I remember thinking it was a rather strange name for a play.”

“It comes from a line in Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar” 'The fault dear Brutus is not in our stars but in ourselves',” I responded.

“I see. Well she told us there was a young lady in the cast who was very good, and it seems we are speaking to her. Just wait until I tell her we've met you.”

'Oh goodness,' I thought. 'Here we go again. Please don't ask me for an autograph.' And I knew that once more my face resembled a lobster.

“May I ask why you are reading 'Hamlet'?” asked Jim.

“Yes, I've been given the position of understudy for Ophelia in a new production.”

“In London?”

“Err no, it's in Stratford.”

“The Imperial Shakespeare Company? That's quite a coup young lady.”

“Yes it is. I've been very fortunate.” I responded.

“I think you're being very modest my dear. May I ask who's starring in it?” said Mrs Franklin.

“Well David Lodge is playing Hamlet and Dame Emily Good is Queen Gertrude.”

“My goodness,” said Mrs Franklin. “Have you met them?”

“Well David was at the audition. That was rather scary, but he was actually very pleasant. I've actually met Dame Emily a couple of times, and she is one of the nicest people you could hope to meet.”

Both the Franklins looked very impressed.

“Well I hope you get a chance to perform with them,” said Mrs Franklin.

I smiled. “Well I hope so too, but that means that Phoebe Wells who has the role will have to get sick or have an accident, and I can't wish that on her.”

I was very grateful to the Franklins because they distracted me from worrying about Mum for a while. They were going to Edinburgh to see their other daughter who had just given birth to their first grandchild. I had to get off the train at York to take another service to Bridchester, so as we pulled in, Mr Franklin kindly took down my suitcase from the luggage rack, and we made our farewells. They promised to keep an eye out for me in future plays, and said they might try to see the production of Hamlet even though they knew it was unlikely they'd see me on stage.

“I imagine your name will be in the programme,” said Jim Franklin. I'd never even thought of that – my name in the same program as those famous names! Something to add to Mum's collection; and that of course immediately made me think of Mum again and I felt like crying.

“I'm sorry,” said Jim, seeing the look on my face, “Here I am waffling away and you are worrying about your mother.”

“No, it's fine,” I assured him. “You've actually distracted me a bit from thinking about her. Otherwise this trip would seem like an eternity.”

The train came to a halt and I bade them farewell, and stepped out onto the platform.

The train to Bridchester wasn't due for forty minutes, and as I sat waiting on the platform, my phone rang. It was Emma, and she sounded very distressed.

“Sis, I'm ringing to see where you are. I have to turn off my phone in the hospital so you can't reach me there.”

“I'm at York, Sis. The train is due in forty minutes. I should be there in a couple of hours at most.”

“Can you take a taxi instead? I'll pay, I don't care about the money. Mum is so sick, I'm really frightened,” she said, her voice breaking up with sobs.

“Of course,” I replied. I was frightened now too. “I didn't know she was that bad.”

“She's delirious still. I can't make out what's she's saying but I think she's asking for you.”

“Alright Em, you go back to her, tell her I'm coming and I'll go and find a taxi,” I said, and grabbing my suitcase I hurried out of the station. Fortunately there was a taxi rank outside. I ran up to the first one and spoke to the driver.

“Can you take me to Bridchester?”

“Bridchester? That's about forty miles. It'll cost you a bit lass,” he replied.

“I don't care,” I replied, tears starting to run down my cheeks. “I've got to see my mother. She's in hospital there and my sister thinks she's dying.” I nearly choked on the last word.

The driver immediately looked serious. “Of course I can take you. Hop in and I'll put your suitcase in the boot.”

I got into the taxi and in few minutes we were on the A166.

“I'm Peter,” said the driver. “It's going to take us about an hour to get there because there's no motorway.” He paused. “I could try and get us a police escort if you like?”

“I thought they were just for emergencies,” I replied, dabbing at my eyes.

”Well, isn't this one?” Peter said. “Look I know a lot of the guys in the local highway patrol. This is strictly between you and me, but why don't I see if they've got a car free?”

With that he started speaking into his radio handset, and after a few exchanges with the voice at the other end, he said 'Bingo! They'll meet us at Stamford Bridge.”

Peter stuck to the legal limit of sixty miles per hour up to the rendezvous point and then a car zoomed up behind us with red and blue lights flashing. It overtook us and immediately increased speed, as did Peter. It's amazing what having a police escort does. Cars up ahead pulled over to let us pass and we were now doing nearly eighty miles per hour. We had to slow when we drove through towns of course but quickly speeded up. I think Peter was enjoying himself. He did have time to ask me what had happened and I explained I was working in London and had come up to York by train but my sister sounded so worried I decided on a taxi instead of waiting for the train to Bridchester. As we sped through the countryside my phone rang again. I saw it was Emma and was almost too afraid to answer it.

“Sis, it's Emma. I'm just checking where you are. What's that siren?”

“I'm in the taxi and I've got a police escort Em, but don't tell anyone. Peter the driver says we should be there in twenty minutes. How's Mum?”

“About the same. I told her you're coming and it seemed to settle her a bit. She's in Intensive Care now. I'll wait for you at the main entrance to the hospital.”

I sank back in my seat in relief. At least Mum was no worse.

In fifteen minutes we were pulling into the driveway of Bridchester Hospital. The whole trip had taken just under forty minutes. I paid Peter by card and gave him a generous tip in cash which he didn't want to take at first but I insisted. As I got out of the cab I saw my police escort. The driver waved and I waved back, but they drove away before I had a chance to thank them.

As I took my suitcase from Peter I said “Thank you so much and please thank the police for me too. You've all been brilliant.”

Then I saw Emma hurrying towards me. We hugged briefly and she said “Come on, I'll take you to the ICU.”

She almost ran me to the lift and we travelled to the first floor and then down the corridor to the Intensive Care Unit and through the swinging plastic doors. As we did so I heard an announcement on the overhead speakers “Code Blue Intensive Care”. My heart thumped. It sounded like an emergency, but who was the patient?

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 25   The long night.

As we started to walk down the ward, I heard a noise behind me as a cart and several medical staff came crashing through the plastic doors. We both turned and stepped to one side at the sight of them, but they stopped at the first bed where several nurses were gathered, and pulled the curtains around.

Emma grabbed me by the arm as I took a step towards the bed and said “That's not Mum, she's down the end,” and I could only think 'Thank goodness it's not her.' and then felt guilty. After all, it was someone else's parent or child who was obviously in a very bad way.

Emma then led me to Mum's bedside at the far end of the ward next to a window, and I hardly recognised her. Lying there with her eyes closed, breathing noisily and irregularly, with a drip running into her left arm, and oxygen tubes into her nose, she seemed to have shrunk and also aged twenty years.

I sat down on her right side and took her hand in mine.

“Mum, it's Harriet. I'm here now Mum,” I said quietly, so as not to disturb the other patients. There were tears running down my cheeks but I ignored them. “I love you Mum, we all do. You've got to get better Mum. We can't do without you.”

I didn't know if she could hear or understand me. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead and I took a small towel from the bedside table and gently patted at them. Mum moved her head and muttered something that I couldn't catch but I thought I heard my name. She seemed to be in another world and I was so scared that she wasn't coming back to ours. Emma sat on the other side of the bed and took Mum's other hand. Tears were streaming down her cheeks too. We both sat there for about an hour. I kept talking to her. I don't know what I said and maybe it didn't matter. It was just to let her know I was there. I prayed that she could hear me, although she didn't acknowledge my presence and occasionally muttered something unintelligible.

After about two hours, she seemed to settle slightly and rest more easily. I looked at my watch. It was six o'clock.

“Emma, you have to go to the theatre. They're counting on you,” I said.

“I don't want to leave her,” she replied. “I heard the doctor say to one of the nurses that the next twelve hours are critical.”

“I know, but you've done everything you can today. There's nothing any of us can do but wait. I'm here now and I promise I won't leave her and I'll call you if anything happens, but she seems a bit quieter now.”

Reluctantly Emma got up, but she saw the sense in what I was saying.

“Alright, I'll come back as soon as the performance is over,” she said.

I got up and we hugged. “She'll get better,” I said. “She has to.”

I resumed my seat and continued to hold Mum's hand and talk quietly to her. Every half hour a nurse arrived to check her pulse, blood pressure and temperature. Every half hour I asked if there was any change, and each time the answer was the same “No change”. I tried to take comfort from the fact that at least she wasn't getting any worse. The bottles attached to the drip and containing antibiotics were changed at regular intervals, and once, a technician came to take some blood to check on the progress of the infection which had entered her blood stream. One of the nurses kindly brought me a cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches. I wasn't really hungry, but forced a sandwich down not to appear ungrateful, but I did appreciate the cup of tea, and another one that followed an hour later.

The hours passed slowly. It was dark outside and all I could see was my reflection in the window. I looked terrible, but I couldn't leave Mum. I had a feeling that by keeping hold of her hand I was somehow maintaining her grip on life, silly I know but I had to hang onto hope in whatever way I could find it. Gradually though exhaustion overcame me and I decided to rest my head on the bed for a minute, and inevitably I fell asleep. I was told later that when Emma arrived back after the show, she saw me lying there and when the nurses asked if she wanted to take me home she said “Please let her stay where she is – Mum needs her there.”

Emma sat on a chair at the other side of the bed, and as the darkest hours of the night passed, she too fell asleep. Apparently neither of us stirred as the nurses performed their regular checks.

Then, as the light began to slowly brighten through the window, something made me stir. I slowly opened my eyes, turned my head and looked through the window at the rosy hue of the growing light, and unbidden there came to my mind a line from the first scene of 'Hamlet' that I had read on the train and without realising I spoke aloud -

'But look, the morn in russet mantle clad...'

And a different voice in a whisper so faint I barely heard it, completed the couplet

'Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill.'

I turned my head “Mum! Oh Mum, you're awake!”

A faint smile appeared on Mum's face. “Harriet darling, you came.” She looked pale but the fever had left her, and she was lucid again.

“Oh Mum!” It was all I could say, and then the floodgates of pent-up emotion finally burst and I sobbed with relief burying my head in the sheets of the bed. It was then I realised what had woken me as Mum gently stroked my head. Emma awoke and realising what had happened, she began to cry too, and a nurse came rushing up fearing the worst, took one look at Mum and beamed with relief. “I'll call the doctor,” she said.

A few minutes later a doctor arrived and we moved aside so that she could check Mum. “Well, it seems the worst of the infection has gone and that you're on the mend,” she said, smiling.

Mum smiled too. “I've got my two angels here to look after me,” she said.

“Well, they've done a very good job,” said the doctor. “You'll have to stay on the antibiotics for another day or two, but we can safely say that you've turned the corner.”

Turning to us she said “Well young ladies, I understand you've been here all night. I suggest you go home and get some sleep. Your mum will be fine with us now, she just needs to rest.”

We both bent over the bed and kissed Mum on the cheek. As we turned to leave the ward, Emma suddenly turned back.

“Mum, I've got some good news for you. Aunt Peggy is coming over from Australia to look after you.”

Mum smile broadened at the news. I knew that she and her sister were very close and wrote constantly to one another – none of that newfangled email for them, they used aerograms. I realised that Emma must have rung her when things were touch and go, but now that Mum was getting better she would still need help when she was sent home.

As we left the ward I noticed that the bed which the 'Code Blue' patient had occupied was now vacant, and my heart went out to their family. It could so easily have been Mum's bed that was now empty and involuntarily I shuddered at the thought.

As we waited outside the hospital for the taxi to take us home I asked Emma how Aunt Peggy came to be a farmer's wife in Australia.

“You probably don't remember much about her, as the last time she was here was just after Dad died. She stayed for about a month then, and she really held the family together,” said Emma.

As it happens I did remember her – a jolly plump woman with a strange accent which was a mixture of Yorkshire and Australian. I could even remember her holding me in her arms when I sobbed and sobbed after trying to be brave as the 'man of the house' which I never could be, and finally finding the loss of Dad just too much to handle.

“Aunt Peggy's husband is Ronald McDonald and they live in a place called Yackandandah in Victoria where he owns a farm.”

“Really?” I actually started to laugh, and I think that was Emma's intention. Whether it was the absurd place name or Ron's name I don't know, but it all sounded rather unbelievable.

“Yes really,” she replied. “His friends call him Ron or 'Macca'. Anyway, you're old enough now to hear the story of how he came to England. He was three weeks away from getting married when he paid an unexpected visit to his great mate who was to be the Best Man, and found him in bed with the 'bride to be' – so he called off the wedding.”

“As you do,” I said.

Now it was Emma's turn to laugh. “Apparently she begged and pleaded, said it was a mistake, a one-off, didn't mean anything etc., etc., but Ron was having none of it. His one contact with his former 'best mate' was to tell him he was welcome to 'the sheila' as he put it. He had bought two economy tickets for a honeymoon trip to the 'Old Country', by which he meant here. He exchanged them for one business class ticket and set off. He spent the first two weeks on a continuous pub crawl around London trying to drown his sorrows. Then he saw a poster advertising Edinburgh. He'd heard about Scotch whisky, so decided to travel north.

“When he reached York, he got off the train to stretch his legs, ended up in the bar and the train left without him, but when he finally went back to the platform the Bridchester train was there. He was pretty drunk by then so didn't notice the difference, and he got on board and travelled to Bridchester, which he assumed was a suburb of Edinburgh. He couldn't find his case which of course ended up in 'Lost Property' in Edinburgh, but slaking his thirst was more important, so he headed to the nearest pub and there was Aunt Peggy behind the bar. She told me that the sight of the tall lean bronzed Aussie made her go weak at the knees.

“They got talking, and he asked her what he should see in Edinburgh and she told him about the castle, Holyrood House and a few other places. When he asked how to get to the castle, her reply was that he had to go to Edinburgh first. After a bit of confusion she realised he thought he was already there. Anyway, to cut a long story short, she organised a room and borrowed some pyjamas for him, and the next day tracked down his suitcase and arranged to have it sent to Brid. It seems there was a great deal of mutual attraction, and he was in no hurry to head further north, so he stayed on.

“In fact he did get to Edinburgh, taking Aunt Peggy with him, and before he left for home, they were engaged. He organised a visa for her to go to where he lived to see what she thought of it, so four weeks later, she quit her job and headed to 'Yack' as Bob called it. She loved the place, and Bob of course, but she had to come back to England to sell her flat and pack up her things.

As the taxi drew up, Emma finished off the story. It seems a couple of months later, 'Macca' flew Aunt Peggy out to Australia again and they got married. Mum was sorry to see her sister go to the other side of the world, but she had met Macca and thought him a thoroughly nice gentleman. Incidentally he'd returned to being a social drinker since he met Aunt Peggy.

“That's a really romantic story, Emma,” I said.

“Well some people thought it wouldn't last, since Peggy had recently broken up with her boyfriend and two people on the rebound was surely a recipe for disaster. Anyway, fourteen years and two children later, it seems likely that it will last, don't you think?”

I had to laugh at that. We had arrived home and Emma made us a light meal. I had two telephone calls to make. The first was to Reggie.

“Hello darling, how's your mum?” he asked as soon as he answered.

“She's much better Reggie. Emma and I stayed in the hospital overnight. To be honest we went to sleep in the chairs eventually, but when Mum woke up she was much better.”

“I'm sure she knew you were there and that made a big difference,” replied Reggie.

“Well I'd like to think it made some difference but it was probably mostly due to the antibiotics.”

“Well the main thing is she is getting better. Did they say how much longer she will be in hospital?”

“At least a few more days, but there is more good news; our Aunt Peggy, Mum's sister is going to fly over from Australia and will be here on Sunday. Mum looked even better when she heard that.”

“Harriet, you sound very tired, are you going to get a proper rest now?”

“Yes I will darling, and thank you for thinking of me.”

“I do every day, you know that. I love you darling.”

“I love you too Reggie, and I can't wait to see you again.”

My next call was to Mark at the theatre. I told him that Mum was improving and asked how things were going there.

“Elspeth's doing o.k.,” he said. “But she isn't you. Still, you must stay there while your mum needs you.”

I thanked him for his thoughtfulness and explained about Aunt Peggy coming over and said I hoped to return next week if all was well. Then finally, I set my alarm and lay on the bed and promptly went to sleep.

Mid-afternoon we both got up and had a shower and change of clothes before going to the hospital to see Mum. She was looking so much better, and told us she was going back to the medical ward the next day. Emma had to leave for the theatre after a while, but I stayed on until I could see she was getting tired.

“When is Peggy arriving?” she asked.

“Emma says Sunday morning,” I replied. “That's good as Em can go to the station to meet her, and if you're home, I can stay with you.”

“I'll have to wait and see what the doctors say,” she replied.

“I'll go now Mum, you get some rest.” I stood up and bent over to kiss her cheek.

She grasped my hand. “I had the strangest dream last night. I was holding hands with an angel and she had your face. I asked her if I was going to heaven, and she said 'not yet, you have more to do on earth'. You were holding my hand all last night weren't you?”

I smiled at her, trying to hold back the tears. “Yes Mum, I was.”

“So perhaps it was more than a dream after all,” she said smiling.

Now that Mum was out of danger, there was another medical issue with which I had to deal. Dr Maria Wilson whom I'd consulted about my transgender issues had asked to see me again after about three months, and now would be the perfect time since I was only back in Bridchester for a short while.

I rang the surgery and asked if I could make an appointment with her before the end of the week.

“I'm sorry,” said the receptionist. “She's fully booked.”

At one time I would have accepted that, but being on stage had given me much more confidence, so I replied “That's a pity since she asked me to see her the next time I was in Bridchester, and I'll be returning to London next week. Would you mind asking her if she can squeeze me in please?”

“Just a moment,” said the receptionist in a glacial voice.

She put me on hold and when she came back on the line she said “Dr Wilson can see you at five o'clock tomorrow.”

“Thank you very much,” I replied and hung up.

When I went to the hospital to see Mum the next day I was thrilled with how much better she looked. She no longer had the oxygen tubes in her nose and although the drip was still running, she told me it would probably come out the next day.

I told her I was going to see Dr Wilson at five o'clock and that I would be telling her I was still convinced that becoming a young woman was what I wanted, so I hoped I would start on hormones soon.

“You may have to be patient,” said Mum. “She might want you to stay as you are for a while longer, so don't be disappointed if that's what happens.”

“No Mum,” I replied and kissed her on the cheek before I left. Of course I knew I would be disappointed, but if that's what happened I would just have to accept it.

I had given some thought to what I should wear to see Dr Wilson, not a problem for 'cis-gender' women (i.e. those female from birth). I wanted to look feminine without going over the top, so I wore my grey woollen skirt with black opaque tights, since the weather was still very chilly, and a silk camisole over my bra, with a warm cotton top. My shoes had sensible three inch heels. I carefully brushed my hair and applied sufficient makeup but not too much.

I arrived at the surgery with fifteen minutes to spare and announced myself to the receptionist. I was pleased to see that my name was now amended to Harriet, and she asked me to take a seat.

“Dr Wilson is running a little late, but she shouldn't be too long,” she said.

'What's new?' I thought to myself as I picked up an old copy of 'Vogue' and sat down.

In fact it was only ten past five when Dr Wilson appeared at the doorway and said “Harriet?”

Once seated in her room I thanked her for seeing me at short notice.

“My Mum is in hospital recovering from pneumonia, so I came up from London a few days ago,” I said.

“That must have been very worrying for you and your sister. I'm glad to hear she is getting better. So how are things with you?”

“They're fine,” I said. “I'm currently performing in a new production of 'Dear Brutus' in London, and after it finishes I'm going to be understudy for Ophelia in a new production of Hamlet in Stratford.”

“That sounds very exciting,” said Dr Wilson. “How about you personally?”

I felt myself blushing. It seemed that I had misunderstood her question.

“I feel really comfortable as a young woman, it's who I want to be. I could never think of going back to being Harry again, although I know I still have much to learn about being a woman.” I went on to tell her about Charlie the stalker on the tube when I went to Southgate to catch Reggie play football.

“I only caught his eye for a second and he seemed to think that was a signal for him to follow me. Thank goodness my boyfriend was at the station. Anyway, in future I will take a book or magazine and bury my head in it like everyone else on the train.”

“I think you might have been unlucky,” said Dr Wilson. “The boyfriend you mentioned, how does he feel about you?”

“I've known Reggie for years, even before I started to express myself as a female. That's exactly how he treats me, so I am very lucky. I don't know what the future holds of course. He's going to York University soon and there'll be plenty of young women there, women who could give him a family, something I could never do.” I ended sadly.

Dr Wilson looked sympathetic. “Well none of us know what the future holds, Harriet. You look even more self-assured as a young woman than when I last saw you. I would like you to come and see me again in two months, and if you are still quite sure of how you want to live your life, I will refer you to a gender specialist with the recommendation that you commence hormone treatment. How does that sound?”

I smiled and said “That sounds fine, Dr Wilson.” Mum had warned me that it might be too soon to expect to receive hormones, and she had been right, as she was in so many things. There was no examination this time apart from the usual blood pressure and pulse, both fine, and I left after receiving another script for Aldactone, and making an appointment for two month's time.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 26   Aunt Peggy

Over the following days Mum continued to improve. The drip had gone, although she was still receiving antibiotics by injection. By now she was keen to leave the hospital, but the doctors said she should stay another few days. Since she wasn't going to be home on Sunday when Aunt Peggy arrived, both Emma and I could go to the station to meet her.

“Do you think she knows about me?” I asked Emma.

“I'm sure she does. She and Mum don't have any secrets from each other, but I'm sure Aunt Peggy won't have told anyone.”

That was a relief as it had suddenly occurred to me that she might be quite surprised when she saw me. I was considering wearing trousers to lessen the shock, but if she knew, then it was alright to wear my tartan skirt and black tights. I was careful with my makeup, not overdoing it, and looking at myself in the mirror, I was sure I looked alright. Nevertheless, I did feel a little bit nervous. After all, the last time she was with us she had seen a boy called Harry.

The train pulled into the station and we eagerly scanned the crowd.

“There she is!” exclaimed Emma, and at that moment Aunt Peggy spotted us, or perhaps more accurately she recognised Emma. She hurried up to us and first gave Emma a hug, and then turned to me as Emma said “This is Harriet”

“Of course. How nice to see you again Harriet,” She hugged me too, and I was grateful for how easy she was making it for me. “You've certainly grown since I last saw you. Now how's your mum?”

“She's still in hospital, but she should be home soon,” I replied. “She'll never forgive us if we don't take you straight to see her.”

Emma had brought the car, so we put Aunt Peggy's suitcase in the boot and her in the front seat next to Emma. Sitting in the back seat I was thinking that I must start learning to drive soon.

Mum was sitting out of bed when we arrived, and she and Aunt Peggy hugged.

“Peg, it's so good of you to come all this way to look after me,” said Mum.

“Nonsense, that's what sisters are for,” replied Aunt Peggy. “Do you think they'll let you come home now there's a 'responsible adult' to look after you?” she said with a wink.

“I'll have to ask the doctor when I see him next,” said Mum.

“Wait here and I'll go and see the nurse,” said Aunt Peggy and she marched up to the sisters' station. She was only gone a few minutes and when she came back she was smiling. “Tomorrow morning provided you behave yourself,” she said to Mum.

Looking at the two of them together, even though Mum was still unusually pale and frail- looking after her ordeal, it was still difficult to see them as sisters. I could imagine that Peggy had always been the leader and Mum had been the follower. Emma and I went off for a cup of tea in the hospital cafe while Aunt Peggy and Mum had a chat.

When we returned, Aunt Peggy said “I think your Mum needs a rest now, so shall we go home?”

Back at the house, we showed Aunt Peggy around and told her that she could have my bedroom since I would be returning to London soon.

“Thank you my dear,” she said. “I will be careful not to mess it up too much.”

We both laughed at that. There was only a few of my clothes in the wardrobe since most of them were in London, so there was plenty of room for Aunt Peggy to hang her things.

Emma had a trundle bed in her room which had been used occasionally when we'd had guests, so we had set it up for me until I returned to London. I didn't want to dash off, but on the other hand I felt it was important to return to the theatre as soon as was practical.

The following morning, after checking that Mum was to be discharged, Aunt Peggy, Emma and I started out for the hospital. Mum was sitting beside the bed, dressed and obviously anxiously awaiting us. When we sat her in the front seat of the car she heaved a sigh of relief.

“I don't want to sound ungrateful because they helped save my life, but it's so good to be away from the hospital at last,” she said.

We had made a special effort to ensure that the house was sparkling for when Mum arrived, and she was thrilled to be home again. Of course she wanted to start doing things like making us tea but we insisted that she sit down and be 'waited on hand and foot' as the saying goes. Emma and I went into the kitchen and prepared a light lunch for all of us, and afterwards we all sat in the lounge with cups of coffee.

There was plenty to talk about. Aunt Peggy told us how things were going in Australia, and she had brought over some photos of her family. We all agreed that Ron was a very handsome guy and their two children, Flora who was thirteen and growing up to be a pretty young lady, and Ron Junior who took after his dad, made up a wonderful family. Aunt Peggy beamed with pleasure at our compliments. The family property, or farm as we'd call it here, looked great with huge paddocks (i.e., fields) full of cattle, and I said I would love to visit there one day.

“Well we do have a number of theatres, especially in the capital cities, our closest one is Melbourne, so perhaps you might get a role in one of their productions,” she said.

“And Emma might too,” I said. I was getting a little worried that the emphasis was too much on me. I didn't want Emma to get jealous as we had a really good sisterly relationship.

“I'm looking forward to seeing both of you on stage while I'm here,” said Aunt Peggy diplomatically.

While Emma and I were washing up, I decided to take the opportunity to have a word with her.

“Emma, you're a really good actress. Have you considered trying for a role in London or one of the other big cities?” I asked.

“Instead of burying myself alive in Bridchester?” she asked, although she did say it with a smile.

“I didn't exactly mean that,” I replied, blushing. “I've been very lucky so far with my career, and maybe if you were in London, Dame Emily could put you up for a role too?”

“I'm not jealous of your success if that's what you're worrying about,” Emma replied. “Actually, there's another reason for me staying in Brid. I haven't told anyone else about this, but David and I have been seeing each other.”

“Oh!” was my response.

“I know what you're thinking,” said Emma. “Actress sleeps with director who just happens to be nearly ten years older than her, is divorced and has a young daughter. What could possibly go wrong?”

“I wasn't thinking that at all,” I replied. “David is a really nice guy, and if you're in love with him, he's also a very lucky one.”

“Well, I think I'm the lucky one. I've had a lot of boyfriends as you know, but David is different. He's very mature and makes all those other boys look like children.”

“Will this cause a problem at the theatre?”

“It shouldn't do. David is only one of the people who selects roles for us, so no-one can say it's a 'casting couch' decision if I get a good part.”

“What about David's daughter. Have you met her?”

“She's eight and her name's Penelope, or Penny as everyone calls her. Yes I've met her and we get on very well.”

'Phew! That's a relief,' I thought.

“I should explain that Anthea, David's first wife, ran off with the husband of a friend of theirs, so it wasn't his fault,” said Emma.

'Things are rarely as cut and dried as that,' I thought. 'David's a great guy, why would Anthea throw away her marriage just like that?'

Aloud I said “Well I hope it all works out well for you. Have you told Mum yet?”

“No, you're the first person I've told. Anyway, what's happening with you and Reggie?” she said, changing the subject.

“We're going along well, but later this year he goes to York and I go to Stratford. He'll be meeting up with plenty of pretty girls who can give him something I can't, a family. I'm just going to enjoy being with him as long as it lasts.”

“Don't you think that makes him seem a bit shallow in your eyes?” said Emma.

“I'm just being realistic,” I replied. “Anyway, if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it. I do suggest that you tell Mum about David soon. She may even have guessed – she's pretty smart about things like that.”

“I will tell her very soon,” promised Emma.

Later, while Mum and Emma were having a short siesta, Aunt Peggy and I sat in the kitchen and had a chat.

“Your mum told me about you of course, but I must say I was quite amazed when I saw you, Harriet,” she said. I felt myself blushing.

“Mum and Emma have been so supportive, indeed everyone has been that knows about me.”

“So you believe this is how you want to spend the rest of your life?”

“Oh yes, I'm quite sure about that. I've never felt so happy as I have in the last few months. In fact it's now that I know why I didn't feel happy before.”

“Well I have to say that you seemed quite unhappy when I last saw you, but that was just after you'd lost your dad, so I thought that was the reason.”

“Well that was part of the reason of course, but there was more to it than that,” I replied.

“So where are you at now?”

“Well, I'm taking a drug which stops me developing male characteristics. I saw my doctor a couple of days ago and she says if I still feel the same way in another couple of months, which I will of course, then she will recommend I start taking female hormones.”

“Well, I have to say that even now, you look very feminine to me. If I didn't know, I never would have guessed. It's not just your appearance, the way you talk and act is exactly how any other teenage girl would act.”

“Perhaps being an actress helps me, but it's important that everyone realises that I'm not putting on an act off the stage. This is the person I want to be.”

“So when are you going back to London?”

“I don't know. I know I should go back soon or they will think me unreliable, but after what just happened to Mum, I feel almost like I'm abandoning her.”

“Well, she and I were talking before and she thinks you should go back soon. Your career is at a critical stage now and you don't want to jeopardise it.”

“Alright, I'll talk to her. I'm so glad you are here Aunt Peggy, that makes my decision so much easier. Maybe when Mum is feeling really well, you can both come down to London and see the play? I can get you some tickets.”

Aunt Peggy smiled. “I'm sure we'll both look forward to that.”

Later that day I spoke to Mum, and she did encourage me to return to my role in London, so I phoned Mark and told him I would be back on Tuesday and ready to resume my role on Wednesday. For a second I held my breathe, having the silly thought that he might say 'don't bother', but in fact he seemed really pleased to hear that I was coming back. He asked after Mum and I brought him up to date on her progress and about Aunt Peggy's arrival.

“I'll see you Wednesday morning then,” he said before ringing off.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 27   Antonette's outing

On Monday evening I cooked dinner for the family. Because Emma had to go to the theatre, we had it early – a nice Welsh lamb roast with potatoes and pumpkin, peas and carrots, oh and mint sauce of course! Everyone was rather impressed with my new-found skills for which I credited Reggie.. I had only been away from London a week but I was missing him terribly. For all my attempts to be blasé about the chance of losing him, the truth was it would break my heart. We had been in touch by phone every day, but it wasn't the same.

I packed most of my clothes that evening, and on Tuesday morning, Emma drove me to the station for my return trip to London. Despite the fact I'd only been living there a few months, it seemed quite familiar to me now as I alighted from the train and took the tube to Finsbury Park. Louise welcomed me back, and so did Anthony, although rather shyly. I wondered if he had been dressing much while I'd been away, and if his make-up skills were improving.

I know it sounds silly but I felt almost guilty about returning to the theatre on Wednesday morning to resume my role. I was sure Elspeth couldn't be looking forward to my return and I wondered how she would greet me.

“Hello Harriet, welcome back,” she said when she saw me that evening.

“Hello Elspeth, how did it go?” I enquired.

“Great! I really enjoyed it, but I realise that you couldn't stay away for ever. How's your mum by the way?”

“She's fine. Aunt Peggy has come over from Australia to stay for a month and look after her.”

“That was kind of her,” said Elspeth. I wondered if she was thinking that without Aunt Peggy I might have had to stay away longer. Then I thought that was unkind. I felt I had been even more unkind when she followed up by saying “Actually, I'm quite glad you are back. I started my period the day after you left, and I found playing a matinee and an evening performance quite exhausting.”

“Do you think you might be a bit anaemic?” I asked. “You do look pale sometimes.”

“You might be right,” she replied. “Perhaps I should go and see my doctor and get a test done. You always seem to look good, no matter what time of the month it is.”

“I guess I”m lucky,” I replied. “It's never affected me much.”

I was really happy to be back in London although I missed seeing Mum, and I would like to have seen more of Aunt Peggy. I hoped that she and Mum would make it down to see me in the play.

Back at the Burton's house things were pretty much the same except that Antonette was now making regular appearances. One day she said to me “I wish I could go out of the house but I promised Mum I wouldn't. Would you be willing to take me?”

“Only if your Mum agrees,” I said. I wasn't totally sure that I could rely on getting a truthful answer from Antonette, so the next opportunity I had I asked Louise about it.

“Oh dear,” she said. “I had a feeling that would be the next request.”

“Well, if she's going to do it, it would be far safer if she goes out with someone like me since she's going to be extremely nervous the first time.”

Louise managed a smile. “I was hoping that by giving him, I mean her permission to dress at home that would be sufficient, but it seems it isn't.”

“If 'her' heart is set on it, there's little you can do other than to be supportive.”

Louise sighed. “Did this used to happen years ago?” she said.

“I think it probably did, but before the internet came along I think a lot of people like Antonette thought they were the only ones who felt that way, I know I did. Now they know that they are not alone, in fact there's thousands like them.”

“Is it only boys wanting to be girls?”

“Apparently not, although they are in the majority, but there are certainly girls wanting to be boys. Of course there have always been 'tomboys' who almost never wore a dress and always wanted to be 'one of the boys'. They were accepted in a way that a boy wanting to be a girl has never been.

“I suppose you're right,” said Louise. “We'll just have to wait and see what happens.”

The next day, Antonette told me that her mum had given her permission to go out so long as it was with me.

“It will have to be on a day when I don't have a matinee,” I replied. “How about Friday?”

Friday came and Anthony seemed to arrive home from school in record time to transform himself into Antonette. I had already stressed the importance of not standing out in a crowd, so it was agreed that she would wear a woollen skirt and black opaque tights since her heart was set on wearing a skirt. She also put on a warm woollen top, and boots with two inch heels that one of her sisters had left behind. I checked her makeup before we went out and praised her technique which was really quite good by now. I had decided to wear grey trousers and boots, along with a leather jacket over my warm woollen top.

“We must be back by six o'clock so that I'm not late for the theatre,” I said.

When we reached the front door, Antonette stopped. “I'm not sure if I'm ready for this after all,” she said.

“It's your choice,” I responded. “No-one is making you do this, but I think you'll find that the first time is the hardest – it stands to reason.”

I thought to myself ' Careful girl, this could be tricky. Take care you don't say anything that gives you away.'

Antonette took a deep breath. “You're right – it's now or never.” With that she opened the door and stepped out.

As we walked down the street she said “Can you hear my heart? It's beating so loudly!”

I smiled. “No Antonette, it's fine, and you look great. Try to relax and enjoy yourself.”

We reached the cafe which I had decided was our target for the day.

“Let's go in for a cup of coffee. You find a table and I'll buy them, alright?”

Antonette nodded and did as I asked. When I brought the coffees over she looked a little calmer. I noticed that she had selected the table furthest from all the other customers.

“You're looking great, really,” I reassured her. “The next time will be easier.”

“You sound like you know all about this,” she said.

“You remember my friend I told you about? The one who's transitioning? Well I took her out for her first time too, and she reacted just like you, including thinking her heart-beat was so loud people would hear it.”

“I wish I could talk to her,” said Antonette wistfully.

I smiled to myself, thinking 'You're closer to her than you'll ever know.'

As we walked back to the house I had a small scare. In a scenario eerily similar to what happened the first time I went out with my sister, three teenage girls were walking down the street towards us chatting animatedly with each other. I've been told that for some reason, girls, particularly teenagers have an uncanny knack of picking trans people. I suspect it might be because they always check out what other girls and women are wearing whereas most adults are totally oblivious to other people that they pass. I uttered a silent prayer that they wouldn't detect Antonette. As for myself I had long ago stopped worrying that anyone would pick me. I held my breath as they passed us, and there was no giggling or laughing. Antonette had passed another test without knowing it.

“Wait!” The voice came from behind us and my heart lurched. We both turned around. One of the girls was walking towards us.

“You dropped your purse,” she said, holding it out to me. I let out the breath I had been holding.

“Oh stupid me. Thank you so much,” I said as I took it. However, she was still looking at me closely.

“Aren't you the babe in the play our school made us go to see last week?”

I smiled “If you mean 'Dear Brutus', yes that's me.”

Her response surprised me. “Don't you get bored spouting the same lines day after day?”

“Well no actually. Each performance is different because we have to respond to the way the audience is reacting. If they laugh we have to wait until the noise dies down so we don't get drowned out, that sort of thing.”

“What about your friend, is she in it too?”

“No she isn't.”

“O.K.,” she didn't sound that interested. “See ya.” and she turned away to rejoin her friends.

I looked at Antonette. She appeared frozen to the spot, the blood drained out of her face.

“Come on Antonette, we'd better get you home.”

“That was awesome, you handled her so well,” she said. I smiled. I didn't want her to know how worried I was that she was going to be exposed, and all because of my stupidity.

When we arrived back at her house, she went upstairs and I walked into the kitchen where Louise was preparing tea.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Quite well,” I replied. “She was nervous of course but she handled it very well and next time she'll be more relaxed.”

Louise raised an eyebrow at that.

“I think she's serious about this,” I said.

“I was afraid of that,” responded Louise, and then she blushed. “I'm sorry, that was a rather tactless thing to say.”

I smiled. “I'm not offended,” I said. “I'm sure it must be a difficult thing for a parent to get their head around, and it's really only in recent years that young people, below the age of taking responsibility for their own actions, have started to have their feelings regarding their gender taken seriously. Perhaps like me, you can take Anthony or Antonette, whichever way you wish to call your child, to a specialist, and if they feel there is a strong possibility of them expressing gender dysphoria, then Aldactone can be prescribed. The effects are reversible, so no harm is done if he or she decides that a life as Anthony is the final decision. I hope that didn't sound too convoluted?”

Louise smiled ruefully. “It does become rather difficult if you're not sure if you should be referring to your child as 'he' or 'she'.

“I think my mother knew even before I did that this is the path my life would eventually take,” I responded. I looked at my watch. “Goodness, look at the time, I really have to get to the theatre.” So we left it at that.

Life settled back into its routine. I kept in touch with Mum and Aunt Peggy of course and was pleased to get reports that after a week or so at home, Mum was already able to take short trips out, and after two weeks she expressed herself 'as right as rain'.

I spoke to Reggie frequently of course and the following Sunday we were once more able to spend a day together at his flat in Southgate. Those were my favourite times with him. We pretended to be a married couple and spend part of the time doing housework, and part doing cooking. Reggie said I was becoming a competent cook.

Of course, our favourite part of the day were the afternoons we spent in bed together. To have this wonderful man all to myself was a total delight. To be his woman and to submit to his desires as well as expressing my own by giving myself to him body and soul was something that I had never dreamed could happen in those early days when he first saw me as a girl. I knew in my heart that he was the only man for me and when our bodies blended into one in that ecstasy so intense that the French describe it as 'la petite mort', I could even ignore for a moment that small voice at the back of my mind which said 'this might not be forever'.

Afterwards, as we lay together, gasping for breath and our hearts pounding he would always say to me “I love you Harriet,” and I would reply “I love you too Reggie, so very very much.”

Back at the Burton's house, I taught Antonette how to do her eye makeup. She was a quick learner and soon became very good at it. The next thing she wanted to do was have her ears pierced.

“Do any of the boys at your school have pierced ears?” I asked.

“Yes, quite a few,” she replied. “They just wear plain gold studs in them of course, and I could too while at school but then wear earrings at home.”

She'd obviously got it all worked out. As usual, I said it would have to be done with permission from her parents and this was forthcoming, so one Saturday morning we went together down to a local beauty parlour where her ears were pierced and the studs inserted. They gave her an instruction sheet on taking care of the piercings which she promised to follow. We had had a discussion on whether she should go there as Anthony or Antonette and Antonette won out. I had to admit that she looked very convincing as a girl, and this time she was a lot more relaxed about going out. The whole event passed without incident, and if the staff at the beauty parlour noticed anything, they certainly gave no indication.

Back home, it seemed that both Louise and Bob were resigned to having three daughters, and Louise told me that she had made an appointment for Antonette to see their local G.P., with a view to seeing a specialist.

“One thing that bothers me is her schooling,” she said during one of our discussions. “I think the only option will be for her to attend a different school if she starts living full-time as a girl. It won't be a great problem as she has no real friends at her present school, and I don't want to run the risk of her being bullied.

The final week of the production arrived and speaking to Mum on the phone on the Monday afternoon, she told me she felt well enough to travel now and wondered if I could get tickets for her and Aunt Peggy if they came down to London to see the show on Saturday.

“I can't get you any for the final performance,” I said. “It's completely sold out, but I might be able to get you some for the matinee. How does that sound?”

“For me it would be better,” replied Mum. “I still get a bit tired in the evenings. That illness really took it out of me.”

It was arranged that she and Aunt Peggy would come down by train on Friday and stay in the hotel where she, Emma and I stayed. I immediately rang Nella in the theatre box office and asked about matinee tickets for them.

Nella laughed. “Well the angels are looking after you. Until five minutes ago I only had a few single tickets in the 'gods', but I've just had two tickets returned in Row J in the stalls due to illness. Shall I put them away for you?”

“Yes, please save them under the name of Mrs Elizabeth Stow. I'll call in later today and pay for them.”

I put the phone down and was making myself a cup of tea when the phone rang.

“Hello, is that Harriet? This is Phoebe Wells.”

“Phoebe! Congratulations on getting the part,” I said and I really meant it.

“Thank you,” she replied. “To be honest, I was fairly confident until I saw you audition. You were truly amazing. As you know, I've mostly been in television soaps. I was in “Wensleydale” until recently, but they've written me out by sending my character off to Australia.”

“Why would they do that?” I asked.

“Search me – producers do things like that sometimes and the poor actors have no say in the matter. Anyway I've got this part for a three month season and that gives me time to look around for something else.”

“I'm sure you'll find something,” I replied.

“Anyway, the reason I'm ringing you is that my parents suggested that I rent a flat in Stratford rather than stay in a hotel all that time. However they don't want me to live on my own. I know I've only met you briefly, but I was so glad to hear that you are going to be my understudy, and I was wondering if you would like to share with me?”

It took me at least ten seconds to digest the implications of what she was suggesting, and she took my silence to mean that I wasn't interested.

“Of course we hardly know each other, so if you don't want to......” she said.

“Oh no, it's not that,” I replied. “It's just that there's something you don't know about me.”

She laughed. “Are you going to tell me you're a boy?”

I gasped and she heard me. “I was joking Harriet, you're the most feminine girl I know.”

I took a deep breath. I would have to tell her. “Phoebe, the thing is you are half-right. You see I'm transitioning from male to female.”

“You're joking! Really?”

“Really,” I assured her. “It's not something I'd joke about.”

“Well I would never have guessed. Does anyone else know?”

“Well some people do down here, but no-one in Stratford does. I didn't feel it was necessary to tell them if they thought I was good enough to perform the role. After all there's a certain irony since boys played all the girls' parts in Shakespeare's time. Now that you know, I can quite understand that you will want to withdraw your offer.”

Phoebe surprised me. “Why would I want to do that? It's not like you'd want to climb into bed with me,” and she laughed.

I laughed too. “Well, you're very attractive but I'm not into girls. I actually have a very nice boyfriend. He knows all about me and he's very supportive.”

“So is that a 'yes' then?” she asked.

“ 'Yes',” I replied. “And thank you. I think we will enjoy sharing a flat together.”

“Good. I'll see what I can find and be in touch as soon as I find something suitable. My parents are going to help and they'll be really pleased you're going to share with me, and no, there's no need for them to know either. Oh, there's just one more thing. I assume you have no objection to my boyfriend staying over?”

“No, provided you don't mind if mine stays over as well?”

With that we both laughed and finished the call, and it was then as I raised my eyes from the phone that they met those of Anthony. He was standing there with his mouth open, goggle-eyed.

“Hi Anthony,” I said, as coolly as I could.

“Was that right what you said? About transitioning I mean?”

“Yes Anthony, it is true and if you're wondering why I didn't tell you, it's because I didn't want to say anything which might influence you in what you decide to do.”

“I would never have guessed. You're not kidding me are you?”

“No I'm not, and I don't intend to do anything to prove it to you; you'll have to take my word for it.”

“So the girl you were talking about who was transitioning, that was really you wasn't it?”

“Yes it was,” I admitted. “I'm currently taking a medication to stop me developing male characteristics but I hope to start hormones soon and eventually have surgery. I know that this is the right thing for me, and maybe it is for you, but maybe it isn't. Meanwhile, I would be really grateful if you wouldn't tell anyone else. I'm trying to keep this as low-key as I can. I know some trans-women have gone public, but I'm not one of them.”

“You don't have to worry, I can keep a secret,” he said, and then he had a thought, “Does my mother know about you?”

“Yes she does and so do some other theatre people here but not everyone.”

“O.k., can we go out together again soon?”

“Sure we can, provided your mum is still alright about it,” I replied, hoping that he wasn't planning to blackmail me to get what he wanted. I wanted him to realise that there was no way I was going to give in to pressure. After all, it was in his interests that I kept quiet about him too. Nonetheless I wished I had been more aware of my surroundings while chatting to Phoebe or I would have been more careful in what I said to her.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 28   A change of scene

Friday morning arrived and after breakfast I did a little shopping and then took the tube to the railway station to meet Mum and Aunt Peggy who arrived just after lunch time. I had asked them to take the earliest train they could so that I would have time to take them to the hotel before I went to the theatre for the evening performance. It was great to see them once more. Mum looking her old self, and Aunt Peggy as bright as ever. I gave them both a hug as I met them on the platform.

By now I was very comfortable moving around this area of London, and after buying them both tickets, we travelled by tube to Finsbury Park, from where we took a taxi to the hotel. After their suitcases were taken to their room, we had some tea in the dining room before I headed off to the theatre for the evening performance.

I could sense an air of sadness in the theatre with the season coming to an end. Not all of the cast had another role lined up. Elspeth however had some news and was rather excited. It seems someone had seen her playing Margaret while I was away, and as a result she had an audition for another play and also for a small part in a television soap. I wished her good luck with both of them. The performance went well and now there were only two to go.

On Saturday morning I telephoned Mum at the hotel. It wasn't practical for me to take them to the theatre since I had to be there early and they would have just been hanging around, so I told them to take a taxi to the theatre and ask at the box office for the tickets I had arranged for them. I had already been to see Nella and paid for them (cast members get a discount rate), so I had confirmed that they were ready to be picked up. I even threw in a couple of programs!

I arrived at the theatre at the usual time and went to the dressing room to get ready. Surprisingly I wasn't nervous at the thought of Mum and Aunt Peggy watching me perform, I was actually rather excited. Elspeth was there of course and reading a novel. I couldn't help thinking that this was going to be my role when I went to Stratford, and I wondered if there was any chance of me actually performing there. Never mind, it was still going to be a great experience.

I suspect the knowledge that Mum and Aunt Peggy were out there in the dark made me perform at my absolute peak. By now, as an 'old hand' I could judge my performance by the applause at the end of the scene. Of course it wasn't totally for me, but as the last person off stage I could reasonably assume that I was taking a good share of it.

At the conclusion of the performance when we all took our bows, the house lights were half up and knowing where they were I could easily make put Mum and Aunt Peggy clapping in the tenth row. I smiled straight at them and blew them a kiss.

After the final curtain came down, they both came around to the dressing room to congratulate me on the performance. Aunt Peggy, who had never seen me on stage before seemed particularly impressed.

“You were amazing Harriet,” she said. “I've seen some great actors perform, not just the locals in Australia, although some of them are very good, but from time to time we get some of the international stars come out. You're on a par with any of them.”

By now I'd learned to not let effusive praise go to my head, but nevertheless I thanked them both. One thing to remember on the stage is you are only as good as your last performance. Remember that quote from Shakespeare's 'Richard III' (let's face it he has a quote for every occasion!)

'They that stand high have many blasts to shake them;
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.'

That was the last thing I wanted to happen to me.

After I changed, the three of us went out for some tea before I had to return to the theatre for the evening performance. I was going to see Reggie on the Sunday and then return to Bridchester for a fortnight before going to Stratford to begin rehearsals for 'Hamlet'. I hadn't heard back from Phoebe yet, but I could always stay at a hotel if she hadn't found a flat for us.

“I'm really glad I'll have time to see more of you before I head back to Australia,” said Aunt Peggy.

”When do you go?” I asked.

“Two weeks on Monday,” she said. “I'd like to stay longer but Ron's missing me and there's always things to be done on the farm. I hope all of you can come out and see me some day.”

“I hope so too,” I said.

The final performance of 'Dear Brutus' was over. As the cast took their final bows, I was not the only one with tears in my eyes. Sir Edgar had arranged for bouquets of flowers to be presented to the females in the cast while still on the stage. In case this sounds like discrimination, I should mention that the men all received the gift of a leather wallet, presented after the performance. I suspected he had picked up this idea from the traditional gifts presented at the Apollo Players' productions. There had not been an empty seat in the house and in another tradition, Sir Edgar and his family had occupied the Royal Box.

When the curtain came down for the final time and the house lights came up, there were many hugs among the cast, and we then headed to our dressing rooms. After we had changed we went to the rehearsal room at the rear of the stage where tables had been set up with finger food and drinks. Sir Edgar and Lady Blakely joined us and mingled with the cast extending their congratulations. Lady Blakely seemed to make a point of seeking me out.

“Well done my dear, you performed splendidly,” she said. “I understand you are off to Stratford now.”

“Yes, I'm to be the understudy for Ophelia in 'Hamlet',” I replied.

“Well, that's quite an achievement,” she said. “The ISC has the pick of Britain's actors, so it will look very good on your CV even if you don't get a performance,” she paused briefly, “although I hope you do.”

“My fingers are crossed Lady Blakely,” I said. “I do have Sir Edgar to thank for my chance to audition and getting the role in this play, and it's been a great start to my career.”

I nearly added 'I was very grateful', but remembering Sir Edgar's reputation, I judged it best to say no more. I'm quite sure Lady Blakely knew what went on, but I didn't want to appear to be hinting that I had been one of Sir Edgar's conquests, which indeed I hadn't. Just then the man in question appeared and putting his arm around his wife said to me “Congratulations Harriet, now I know you'll excuse us,” and then turning to his wife said “My dear, there's someone I'd like you to meet.”

Well, that put me in my place in the pecking order, and I'm a keen enough student of body language to see that while she didn't pull away, Lady Blakely did not respond as a loving wife should when Sir Edgar's arm went round her waist.

I made a point of seeking out Elspeth and wishing her luck with the two auditions she had obtained from standing in for me

“If there's any justice in the world you'll get at least one of those parts, if not both,” I said. She hugged me and we kissed each other on the cheek before saying goodbye.

I didn't stay too long at the after-show party. I had already learned that when some men have had a little too much to drink, they think they are irresistible to young women. I didn't want to risk any incident developing, being one of the youngest women there, so after I had spoken to everyone that I wanted to, I called a taxi which arrived after about ten minutes, and made my way back to the Burton's house.

Sunday might be the last time I saw Reggie for a few weeks since I was due to return to Bridchester with Mum and Aunt Peggy on the Monday. I had spoken to Reggie and he agreed that we should offer to show them around London, but bless them, they said they were quite capable of going around the shops by themselves.

At about nine o'clock, Reggie arrived to pick me up from the Burton's house. We exchanged a kiss when he arrived, and I couldn't help thinking how much I was going to miss him.

“So, one show down and another to go,” he said smiling.

“I'm lucky to have another show to go on to,” I replied. “Some of the cast will be 'resting' as we call it.”

Reggie looked serious. “Well it's something you have to accept if you've chosen acting as a career, but surely being selected by the RSC is going to help you down the line? Anyhow, what would you like to do today?”

Stupidly, tears sprang into my eyes “I just want to be with you Reggie,” I replied.

Reggie looked concerned. “Now what's the matter? You can tell me you know.”

“I know I'm being stupid,” I replied. “It's just that it's been great us both being in London and able to see each other every week, but now I'm off to Stratford and you will be going to York before long and I'm afraid that the distance will break us apart.”

A tear rolled down my cheek, and Reggie pulled out his handkerchief and tenderly wiped it away.

“It won't if we don't let it,” he replied. “You know how I feel about you Harriet, and I think I know how you feel about me. We can't let a little thing like a few miles upset what we have.”

I tried to smile. “You're right of course, I'm just being silly.”

“Perhaps you're just being a girl,” said Reggie. “That's what I love so much about you.”

So in the end, we spent the day in Reggie's flat in Southgate. His flatmate Richard was out. It was either coincidence or because he was remarkably tactful, but he always seemed to be out when Reggie and I were there.

“Where are you staying in Stratford?” Reggie asked.

“I don't know yet. Phoebe asked me to share a flat with her. I had to explain my background or she would have thought it odd if I refused. In fact she's fine about it, but she hasn't rung yet to say she's found somewhere. If all else fails I'll have to stop in a hotel for a few days until I've sorted out something.”

I know this sounds like something that only happens in stories, but it does happen in real life too. Half an hour after saying that, Phoebe rang my mobile phone sounding very excited.

“Hi Harriet, I've spent all day with Mum and Dad looking around Stratford for a suitable apartment for us and I've finally found the perfect place. It's a modern flat, fully furnished, ten minutes' walk from the theatre, two bedrooms both with double beds, a lounge, kitchen bathroom, toilet laundry and its only six hundred pounds per calendar month, so three hundred each. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great Phoebe,” I replied. “When can we move in?”

“Saturday week,” she replied.

“Perfect!” I exclaimed. “Just in time for the start of rehearsals. Why is it so cheap?”

“The owner said he preferred young women to rent it as they look after places better than young men. Apparently he's had some bad experiences with guys wrecking places he's rented out. There is a thousand pound damage deposit, but Daddy very kindly said he would put that up as he's sure we won't cause any damage.”

“I'll just get a pen and paper to write down the address,” I said, and when I put the phone down I quickly told Reggie the good news.

“I've got an idea,” he said. “I'm overdue to visit Mum and Dad in Brid. Why don't I rent a car that weekend and come up to see them? Then I can drive back to London via Stratford to drop you and your luggage off?”

“That's wonderful Reggie,” I replied. “But you must let me pay half the car rental.”

Fortunately he didn't argue this time, so when I picked up the phone to Phoebe again I told her how I would be arriving.

“That's great,” she said. “Paul, my boyfriend will be at the apartment on Sunday week helping me unpack, so we can all get to know each other.”

I was really cheered up by this news since it now appeared that Reggie could come up to Stratford for the weekend when he was free, and even stay over for one or two nights. I know that Reggie was really pleased to see how my mood had changed and that was certainly for the better as far as our relationship was concerned. Few things put a man off more than a sulky girl.

We finished the day at the flat as we so often did with some 'bedroom time' and I was positively glowing by the time we headed back to the Burton's house.

I had already started packing all my things and I finished up before going to bed, just leaving out the following day's clothes and my make-up. The next morning I was up early and showered and dressed. Even though I had only been there three months, the Burtons' house had come to feel like home, and now I was uprooting myself again. Still, this is the life of an actress so I decided I had better get used to it.

I managed a couple of minutes alone with Anthony before I left.

“I'm sorry to be leaving you right now, but I have no choice. Do you think your mum will take you out dressed?”

Anthony looked like he wanted to cry. “I'll miss you Harriet. Good luck with your career. Yes, I think Mum and Dad are getting used to the idea of me becoming their daughter, and Mum has promised to take me out occasionally to go shopping. I'll be going to see a doctor soon so that I can start on the medicine you're taking 'Aldo...'?“

“ 'Aldactone',” I corrected him gently. “I'm glad of that. You can always phone me you know. I'm going to get a computer soon so we can keep in touch that way too.”

We hugged and then parted. I felt I was getting a bit teary too.

I had booked a taxi for nine-thirty, to take me to the hotel where Mum and Aunt Peggy were staying, but before I left I had some small presents for the Burton family. I gave Louise a colourful silk scarf, a new wallet for Rob and a small bag of make-up for Antonette. I had obtained Louise's permission for the final gift. She didn't know about the others and was quite touched at my gesture. We hugged before I heard the taxi at the door and dragged my two suitcases down to the pavement. One thing I have noticed is that taxi drivers will help a young woman with her cases although they won't if it's a man.

Soon after, I arrived at the hotel and was greeted by Mum and Aunt Peggy who were in the sitting room waiting for me, together with their luggage. More hugs and then their luggage was loaded into the taxi and we headed off to the railway station. I had by far the most luggage, but then I had been living in London and like most girls I enjoyed shopping, so of course I was taking back to Bridchester a lot more than I had taken to London.

We were in plenty of time for the train and even had a coffee before boarding it. The trip back to Bridchester, including the change at York was uneventful, although I confess changing trains brought back unhappy memories of the last time I had done so when Mum was so sick.

Emma was home when we arrived and we were enthusiastically greeting with more hugs all round.

“Look at you Harriet, you look quite the young lady now, and a member of the Imperial Shakespeare Company no less!”

I blushed and hugged her. “It's lovely to see you again Emma and under much better circumstances. As for the ISC, I'm the most junior member of the company, although it's very exciting to be even that.”

“You must come down to see the Apollo guys while you are here,” she said. “They often ask about you and were as excited as I was when we heard the news.”

I was now as red as a beetroot. “I've been amazingly lucky,” I said. “And it all goes back to when we saw Dame Emily on the London tube.”

“Never knock luck,” said Emma. “You can have all the talent in the world, and you have got talent, but sometimes it all comes down to that lucky break.”

“You are very wise, dear sister,” I replied. “I will remember that.” Now it was her turn to blush, which of course was my intention!

The two weeks I spent at home with Mum, Emma and Aunt Peggy were very relaxing and just what I needed after about five months of non-stop work. I hadn't realised until I finished the season of 'Brutus', how much it had taken out of me, and then of course there was Mum's sickness which was so traumatic for the whole family.

Of course I missed Reggie, but we were in regular contact. Aunt Peggy had expressed a wish to meet him, so I suggested to Mum that maybe we could have a meal and get-together on the Saturday before she left for Australia, and invite Reggie and his parents along. She was happy to agree. Emma was performing in the evening or we could have made it dinner, but I wanted to have everyone together if possible, so lunch was agreed upon.

I did go down to the theatre with Emma one day and met up with all my friends from the Apollo Players. I was slightly bemused that they all seemed to be treating me with respect since my second stint in 'Brutus' and my appointment in Stratford. I couldn't help feeling this was quite unjustified since all of them had far more experience acting than I'd had. I think the fact that I was now on quite friendly terms with Dame Emily had something to do with it too. That's what they call 'reflected glory' isn't it?

One day when Emma was performing at a matinee and Mum was a bit tired and taking an afternoon nap, Aunt Peggy and I sat together and had quite a long conversation. We chatted about her life in Australia and various other matters before the elephant in the room was acknowledged as I knew it would be.

“Do you mind me asking when you first thought you should have been born a girl?” she said.

“Well, I think the correct answer to that is that I was born a girl in a boy's body,” I replied. “I couldn't see it for a long time but I'm sure other people could. After all, there were those times that I took the girl's part in the school plays and as I've now been told by Emma, I did it so well, people thought I really was a girl. My boyfriend Reggie knew before I started presenting as a girl. (I didn't tell her about the near-kissing incident). He's straight and wouldn't have been interested in me if I wasn't a girl.”

“I'd like to meet Reggie,” said Aunt Peggy.

“Didn't Mum tell you that he and his parents have been invited to lunch on the Saturday before you leave, so you'll have your opportunity then?”

“She must have forgotten, but that will be great,” said Aunt Peggy. She went on, “So what happens to you now?”

“Well I have to convince my doctor that I'm serious about this and want to start on hormones as soon as possible. In fact I'm seeing her next week and that's my goal. I know it's a long drawn-out process, but eventually I want to have surgery, so that I can have a body as much like a woman's as possible.”

I'm sure Aunt Peggy flushed slightly at my forthrightness. I suppose I had been thinking about it so long that it just seemed like a natural progression to me.

“Well I can only admire your determination my dear,” she said. I think that like so many cis-gender people, she didn't see that it wasn't a lifestyle choice but a lifestyle need. If anyone had tried to force me to go back to being Harry, I might have even considered killing myself, but fortunately I was surrounded by supportive people who would help and support me every step of the way.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 29   The rocky road to Stratford.

My visit to Dr Maria Wilson was less traumatic than I feared. I wore a summer dress since it was a fine day. I had bought it months before and this was my first opportunity to wear it outside. I teamed it with sheer stockings and three inch heels. Mum and Aunt Peggy complimented me on how I looked. Nevertheless, my heart was pounding as I entered Dr Wilson's consulting room.

“Well now Harriet, I presume you've come back to see me about your gender issues?”

“Yes Dr Wilson. I know it's not quite two months since I saw you last, but I am absolutely certain in my own mind that I wish to spend the rest of my life as a woman. I have to go to Stratford-upon-Avon in a week to be an understudy, so I won't get a chance to see you for a while.”

“Stratford? You don't mean the Imperial Shakespeare Company do you?”

“Yes, I'm to be the understudy for Ophelia and Queen Gertrude in their new production of 'Hamlet'.”

“My goodness, so they are quite sure that you can perform as a young woman, and even an older one?” she said.

“Well yes, in fact they only know me as a young woman,” I replied.

“So they don't know your background?”

“I saw no need to tell them,” I replied. “Although, ironically, women's parts were played by boys in Shakespeare's time. Still, I don't see myself as a boy, and haven't for a long time.”

“So I presume you would like me to refer you to a specialist in gender dysphoria with a view to you starting hormone therapy?” she said.

“Yes please, I would like that very much. This isn't an act for me, this is who I am.”

She smiled. “Yes, I do believe it is. Harriet, I'll be frank with you. You'll be seen much quicker as a private patient than under the NHS, but it is quite expensive of course.”

“I've been saving up with this in mind ever since I started working,” I replied.

“Well the nearest specialist to us is in York, or there are a number in London of course.”

“Maybe London would be better since I'll be in Stratford. I hope I can get the occasional day off and book an appointment then.”

“That's an even better reason for going private,” she remarked as she consulted a medical directory. “Here we are.”

She pulled the computer keyboard towards her and started to type. When she had finished, she printed and signed it and put it into an unsealed envelope, knowing I would like to see what she had written.

“Here we are Harriet. Good luck. I'm sure the specialist will write and tell me her findings.”

When I arrive home, I pulled the letter out of the envelope and read as follows:

Dear Dr McLeish,

Thank you for seeing Miss Harriet Stow, an eighteen year old patient of mine whom I believe to be a genuine case of gender dysphoria. She has been unhappy with her assigned gender since early childhood, and has been living as a female for six months. She is currently on Aldactone but no other meds.

Please examine her with a view to her starting on hormone therapy.

Yours sincerely,

Maria Wilson MBBS

I decided I had better wait until rehearsals started so I would know what days I might have off, and try to get an appointment to coincide with them.

Aunt Peggy's last weekend in England arrived. She and Mum had had a wonderful time together and we had all enjoyed her being with us. She had made sure that Mum didn't do too much while she recovered, something Emma and I might have found hard to do, and now Mum really seemed like her old self.

I knew that Reggie had hired a car and was going to pick it up after work on Friday, and drive up to Bridchester, staying as usual with his parents. I also knew he would arrive late so didn't really expect to hear from him on Friday evening; however, about eight-thirty my phone rang and it was Reggie.

“Hello darling, where are you?” I asked.

“About half-way to Brid, but there's something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He sounded a bit hesitant and I wondered what was up.

“Would you and your family be very offended if my parents didn't come along to the lunch tomorrow? My sister Barbara is in a netball team playing in the final of the inter-schools competition, and it's on Saturday afternoon. She really wants my parents to be there to see her play.”

“Of course not Reggie. I”m sure we all understand how important that is. Please pass on our best wishes to her.”

“Thank you,” he sounded relieved. “It's not because they don't want to come, but this is special for Barbara. I'll be at your lunch of course.”

“Don't worry about it Reggie. Just drive carefully and we look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

I hung up and went to tell Mum and Aunt Peggy.

“Well that's a shame,” said Mum. “But it can't be helped.”

Aunt Peggy looked a bit sceptical. “Have Reggie's parents ever met you as Harriet?” she asked.

“No they haven't but they know all about me,” I replied.

She said nothing more but I could tell what she was thinking – were they using this as an excuse not to come to the lunch? I preferred to give them the benefit of the doubt, but she had sown the seeds in my mind. How did they really feel about Reggie, their only son, going out with a girl like me? It was something I had never discussed with him.

Saturday came and Emma, Aunt Peggy and I spent most of the morning preparing a very special lunch. Reggie arrived at twelve o'clock as arranged, and apologised again for his parents' absence.

“It's alright Reggie, really,” I said. “We can have lunch with them another time, but this might be the only time your sister plays in a netball final. Are you sure she didn't want you there as well?”

He laughed. “No, if anything I would put her off her game, and I wouldn't want to be responsible for her team losing.”

“Well come in and meet Aunt Peggy,” I said, leading Reggie into the lounge.

Aunt Peggy had made quite an effort and was wearing a floral summer dress, even though by Australian standards the weather was quite cool. She had put on some makeup which was a rarity for her, and I must say she looked very nice.

“Hello Reggie, I've been looking forward to meeting you,” she said, shaking hands with him. I saw him wince slightly and realised she had quite a grip which he wasn't expecting. That's what farm work does to you.

“Would you like a drink?” she said. “I didn't realise until I got here that I could buy Foster's lager.”

“Yes please,” he replied. “I'm driving but I'm sure one beer will be alright.”

“Harriet tells me that you are driving her to Stratford tomorrow. That's very kind of you.”

Reggie blushed slightly. “Well it's going to be so much easier for her than getting there by public transport, especially with her suitcases.”

I could tell that Aunt Peggy liked Reggie, and nothing was said about his parents not coming to lunch.

“I'm going to learn to drive myself soon,” I said. “I can't keep relying on someone to drive me.” I suddenly thought that sounded ungrateful, so I hurriedly added “That way I can take a turn at the driving.”

“Good onya,” said Aunt Peggy. “I don't think there's many girls in Australia who can't drive.”

Just then Emma came in and said that lunch was ready. We walked into the dining room and the waiting feast – it was almost like Christmas, with ham, roast beef, chicken, roast vegetables, and an open bottle of Australian wine that Aunt Peggy had bought from the local supermarket. I thought to myself 'We'll never get through all this, they'll probably be eating left-overs for days. Nevertheless, by the time we got up again about two hours later, having completed the meal with a pavlova which Aunt Peggy had managed to find somewhere and couldn't resist buying.

None of us had ever seen one before and were quite surprised by what amounted to a large meringue in the form of a cake, decorated with strawberries, kiwi-fruit and passion-fruit. It certainly tasted delicious, but I couldn't help thinking that every mouthful was putting an inch on my waistline!

Afterwards, as we sat in the lounge, waiting for it to digest, at Reggie's request, Aunt Peggy showed him the pictures of her farm in Australia, and taught him to say “Yackandandah' with an Australian accent. Altogether it was a very enjoyable day. Emma had to go to the theatre about six o'clock and the rest of us had a light supper from the lunch 'left-overs' before Reggie said he had better go back to his parents' place to hear how the netball match had gone, and also to get an early night before driving me to Stratford on Sunday.

Sunday morning I was up about seven o'clock. Reggie wasn't coming for me until about nine, but I wanted a bit more time with Aunt Peggy. We had breakfast together and chatted.

“I'm sorry not to be coming to the airport tomorrow to wave you goodbye,” I said.

“It's alright. If Reggie wasn't taking you down to Stratford today, I expect you'd have quite a trip by public transport, and anyway I'm only here one more day.”

I got up and hugged her. “Thank you so much for coming over. Mum really appreciated it and I'm sure it helped her recover quicker. This is the second time you've been a ministering angel to our family.”

“Well from what she told me about the night she was so sick in the hospital, it seems I'm in the company of angels,” she replied.

I couldn't stop myself from blushing. “I suppose Mum told you the story about the angel with my face that visited her?”

“Something like that,” she replied. “I'm sure I'll be coming over to see you all again, and hopefully in happier circumstances than this trip and the last one.”

“Sometimes I miss Dad so much,” I said. “Do you think he'd mind having two daughters?”

“I'm sure he's very proud of both of you. Anyway, are you all ready for when that handsome young man of yours arrives?”

I smiled. “Yes he is handsome isn't he? I don't know how much longer I'll keep him as my boyfriend, although I think we'll always be friends. I've been thinking about yesterday and his parents not coming to lunch. I know what you were thinking, that they don't really want him involved with me and would much prefer he settled down with a girl who could give him children.”

Aunt Peggy reached over and took my hand. “Don't give up Harriet. Lots of couples can't have children, and it isn't because one of them is transgendered. There's always the option of adopting children you know. There's many who would love to be accepted into a happy home.”

I hugged her again. “You're going to make me cry and ruin my makeup if you aren't careful,” I said, doing my best to smile.

She smiled back. “I really hope you can come out to Australia to see me sometime. There will always be a bed for you, a double bed if you need it.”

I really smiled this time. “Aunt Peggy, you are a dreadful woman, you're making me blush again!”

Mum and Emma joined us a few minutes later, but that was alright – we'd said to each other what we needed to say. Aunt Peggy got up and started to poach some eggs. She had the happy knack of always doing them just right, and we were going to miss that. I usually pulled them out too soon, and Emma tended to let them go too long. Mum also did them well, but we liked to treat her to breakfast, after all she cooked most of the other meals of the day.

The door bell rang, I answered it and it was Reggie. I gave him a quick kiss before ushering him into the kitchen. I could see the smell of toast and coffee was making his mouth water, so we all insisted that he have poached eggs on toast and some coffee before we left for Stratford.

“Now we won't have to eat at one of those overpriced service centres,” I said.

“And I've made you some sandwiches too, in case you feel peckish along the way,” said Aunt Peggy. I guess that proved to me that she really like Reggie.

All too soon it was time for us to load up the car to head south. There were hugs all round and even a few tears as I finally got into the car and wound down the window to say a final goodbye.

“Remember what I said about visiting me,” said Aunt Peggy. “Good luck with the play. 'Break a leg' is what you theatre folk say isn't it?”

Reggie slowly drove off as I waved and waved until we turned the corner and they were lost to sight.

“Oh dear, that was hard,” I said, dabbing at my eyes.

“It was good to see your Mum looking so well, and I really like Aunt Peggy,” said Reggie.

“She likes you too,” I said. “She said that if I get over there to visit her she'll have a bedroom with a double bed waiting. Why do you think she said that?”

Reggie laughed “I have absolutely no idea,” he replied.

We detoured around York and before too long we were on the M1 and heading south. Reggie was unusually quiet and I was sure I knew what the problem was. As a female I often thought I still had my “L” plates on, but one thing I did know is that men often have trouble discussing emotional issues, especially when they don't know how the woman they are talking to might react. I decided there was nothing for it but to give him a gentle nudge.

“How did Barbara's netball final go?” I asked.

“Fine,” he replied. “The result went down to the wire, but they won by a couple of points with seconds to spare.”

“I'm so glad your parents were there to see it. That would have meant the world to her.”

He responded, gratefully I thought. “It did. Look Harriet, they do really want to meet you, but maybe for the first time it might be better if we all got together for coffee somewhere – what do you think?”

“You're right Reggie, it was a bit thoughtless of me to invite them to lunch with all the family there, to see me as I am now for the first time.”

“I'm sure they'll love you just as I do when they get to know you,” he said.

“Look Reggie, I can understand how they must be feeling, you going out with a girl like me, I really do. They would much prefer you to find a genetic girl who you could marry and have children with.”

Reggie looked like he wanted to cry. Fortunately we were just coming up to a service area.

“Why don't you pull in here so we can talk about it,” I said. Wordlessly he did as I suggested. Once he had parked the car, I turned to him and took his hand in mine.

“Reggie, I care about you deeply, you know I do, but if you ever feel that being with me is not what's right for you, then you must tell me.”

His lip trembled. “It sounds almost as if you are letting me go gently Harriet. Are you saying that this isn't right for you?”

It was my turn to feel emotional now. “No Reggie, I'm saying I care so much about you that I want you to be happy even if it's at the expense of my own happiness. You'll be going to York University soon. There will be lots of young women there and they are bound to be attracted to someone like you. If I say that you mustn't get involved in any way with them, you might come to resent me. I suppose I'm saying that I want to set you free, and if you come back to me of your own free will, then I will know that we will always be together. If that doesn't happen, I still hope we will always be friends.”

Reggie looked intently at me. “You would do that for me?”

“Yes Reggie, I would.” By a tremendous effort of will I was keeping my emotions under control.

“I always thought that you are the most amazing person I know, and what you have just said confirms it. That is the most selfless act I can think of anyone doing for another person short of laying down their life for them,” he said. “I love you Harriet Stow and I always will. Remember that won't you?”

Despite my best efforts, a single tear ran down my cheek, and Reggie brushed it away with his hand, lovingly caressing me. I leaned forward and we kissed. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but one so full of love that I thought to myself 'I will never forget this moment, never.'

After a while Reggie said “I suppose we had better be on our way if we're going to reach Stratford before it gets dark!” There was little chance of that or course, but it lightened our mood.

We drove on south, stopping at one point to eat our sandwiches and have a drink from the thermos that Mum had thoughtfully provided. At Junction 21 we turned off onto the M69 and now we were heading south-west on our way to Stratford. We had resumed chatting and the strained atmosphere that had existed before our talk had quite disappeared. I mentioned to Reggie again that I was thinking of taking driving lessons, and since I was not going to live in London for a while at least, I might even get a small car.

“I'll teach you if you like, although I have heard that trying to teach driving to a close friend or relative can lead to some frightful rows,” he said smiling.

“In that case, perhaps I'd better pay for an instructor,” I replied.

At long last we arrived at Stratford, and following the directions that Phoebe had emailed to me, we pulled up outside the small apartment block where my new home was to be for a few months at least. Reggie lifted my two suitcases out of the boot and pulled them to the door which fortunately was on the ground floor, and I rang to door bell.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 30   First steps on a long road

Phoebe opened the door and gave a little squeal of excitement upon seeing me. “Harriet! Welcome to your new home.” She gave me a hug and then said “And this must be Reggie; it's lovely to meet you.”

She showed us the way into the flat and a tall dark-haired young man, his shirt sleeves rolled up came out of one of the bedrooms.

“Hi, I'm Paul,” he said. There were introductions all round and after a quick tour of the flat, which seemed very nice, I was shown the bedroom that was to be mine. Since she had a hand in finding the flat, Phoebe had of course first choice of bedroom, although she did say she would swap if I preferred. There was not much difference between the two rooms, Phoebe's had a view of the park across the road, and mine had a view of the river, so I said I was perfectly content with the one allocated to me.

“Are you hungry? I'm just going to make a risotto,” said Phoebe.

“That will be lovely,” I said. “I have been taking cooking lessons from Reggie, so I will be able to take my turn in the kitchen.”

“That's great, Reggie, ” said Phoebe. “Perhaps you can teach Paul a few dishes. I think he lives off bacon and eggs most of the time.”

A short while afterwards we were all sitting around the kitchen table and tucking in to a very tasty risotto. Everyone knew what Phoebe and I did of course, but the boys explained their jobs. Reggie went first and said that he worked in a bank at present but would be going to university in York in a few months. Paul said he was a plumber by trade but he was also a keen amateur painter and had sold a few pieces. He had recently heard there was a position vacant as an assistant set designer and painter at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre and had put in an application for the job.

“I keep telling him he earns far more as a plumber,” said Phoebe. “But he'd prefer to work as an artist.”

I wondered how Phoebe had met Paul but it seemed rude to ask. However she answered my unspoken query for me.

“If you are wondering how I met Paul, he came to do some work at my parents' house...”

“And I swept her off her feet,” said Paul, grinning. “I didn't know she was an actress then, since I never watched television soaps.”

“But surely you must have watched 'Wensleydale' when you found out Phoebe was in it?” I said.

“Oh yes, I watched it then of course,” he laughed. “I'd have been in big trouble if I hadn't. She even quizzed me on the show to see if I'd watched it. Since her character was written out, I haven't really been interested in it

Phoebe explained, “The episodes take about three months to be shown on television after we shoot them, so I've only just finished appearing. Apparently there was a howl of protest from fans when Jesse, my character went to Australia.”

“Was it a shock when they wrote you out?” asked Reggie. I kicked him under the table. Even the best of men can be very insensitive at times.

“Yes it was, but at least they didn't kill my character off, although sending her to Australia was the next best thing I suppose.” We all laughed politely at that.

After the meal, Reggie and I offered to wash up, and then he asked if there was anything else he could do.

“If you'd be kind enough to lift my suitcases onto the bed then I will find it easier to unpack them,” I replied. Reggie glanced at his watch.

“Perhaps I'd better get going. Can I come up to see you next weekend?”

“Of course you can Reggie.” I replied. “Will you come up by train?”

“Well I could come up Friday evening and stay Friday and Saturday nights, if that's alright?”

“It's more than alright and you know it,” I said. We kissed and he held me closely. I could feel his body reacting to mine, but there wasn't really the opportunity to do anything about it that day, but the following weekend would be a different matter.

After Reggie left, I went to my room and started taking my clothes out of the suitcases, hanging up my skirts and dresses in the spacious wardrobe, and storing my tops and lingerie in the dressing table drawers. I placed my makeup on top of the dressing table which had a nice big mirror. I was feeling a bit tired after the day's journey, so I undressed and slipped on my nightie, removed my makeup and went to bed. Now that the flat was quiet I became aware of some squeals and muffled giggles coming from Phoebe's bedroom. Obviously Paul was staying the night.

On Monday morning I was up early, excited to be attending my first rehearsal with the Royal Shakespeare Company. I had finished my breakfast before Phoebe appeared. The dark rings around her eyes suggested that she had had little sleep. There was no sign of Paul, so presumably he had left the flat before dawn as I hadn't heard him. I believe plumbers do start work early.

Phoebe yawned and said “You're up early.”

“Well, it's our first rehearsal day and I'm looking forward to meeting all the other cast members,” I replied. “Anyway, do you mind if I use the bathroom first?”

“Go for it,” was her reply, so I did.

By the time I was dressed and ready, Phoebe had finished her breakfast, but she still had to shower and dress, so I said I would walk to the theatre since it was such a nice morning. My real reason was that we were expected to be at the theatre by ten o'clock I didn't want to be late. Phoebe didn't seem to be in any hurry and I knew I would just get frustrated waiting around for her.

I walked along the banks of the Avon, past joggers and runners, while a number of people were out on boats. I thought to myself that I was going to enjoy my time in Stratford. At the theatre, the cast were already gathering on the stage waiting for Tony Robertson the director make an appearance. I saw that Dame Emily and her understudy were standing together and walked over to talk to them. As there are only two female parts in Hamlet, I suppose it's natural that the people playing or understudying them would stick together.

“Harriet, my dear, it's so nice to see you again,” said Dame Emily.

“And you too, Dame Emily. I'm so glad to have got this position as understudy and it's all thanks to you.”

She smiled. “I could only recommend you for the audition. Tony would never have given you the position if he didn't think you are suitable for it. Now let me introduce you to my old friend and understudy, Madge Browning.”

Madge smiled at me and held out her hand. “Welcome to Stratford, Harriet. I've heard so much about you.”

“Nothing bad I hope,” I said, blushing.

“On the contrary, I heard about your performances as Margaret in 'Brutus', and I think we're lucky to have you.”

By now my face could have set off fire alarms. Fortunately Phoebe arrived at that precise moment and I was able to introduce her to Dame Emily and Madge. It was lucky she arrived when she did as the director Tony Robertson arrived on stage only a couple of minutes later on the stroke of ten o'clock.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I'm Tony Robertson the director; welcome to this production of 'Hamlet'. Some of you know each other and may have even worked together in the past, but some have not, so I suggest we start by introducing ourselves. Shall we start with the ladies? Dame Emily of course needs no introduction.”

Dame Emily smiled. “By that Tony means that I've been around so long that everyone knows me.” There was a ripple of laughter at her remark. I later found out that she and Tony were old sparring partners.

She continued “For the record, I'm Emily Good and I'm playing the part of Queen Gertrude.”

Madge then introduced herself as Dame Emily's understudy; Phoebe followed and then it was my turn.

“I'm Harriet Stow and I'm understudy to Phoebe for the part of Ophelia,” I said.

“And a second understudy for Queen Gertrude,” added Tony. That caused a murmur amongst the cast. “I know it's unusual, but with so few female cast members, it seemed wise to cover all bases.”

“Now for the gentlemen,” said Tony. “David Lodge is no stranger to Stratford, having most recently appeared here as the title character in 'The Scottish Play'.”

I had heard of the superstition about not referring to the title of Shakespeare's tragedy apart from when it was actually in production, but this was the first time I had actually seen it in operation. (For anyone who wonders what I am referring to, type the words into a search engine, because as an actress, I am not going to name it either!)

“Hello everyone, I'm David and I'm pleased to be playing the part of Hamlet,” he said.

Each of the other actors and their understudies then introduced themselves in turn, and then Tony announced his intention to run through the play and do some blocking of the actors' moves.

“I would like all cast members to be 'off book' by the middle of next week at the latest, but those who need to can use it for now,” he said, and with that he called the actors who are in scene 1 to the stage.

The rest of us started to head for the stalls to watch the action and in some cases such as mine, to take notes.

Phoebe called me aside and said “I'm not needed until scene 3 so I'm going out for a coffee. Would you like to come?”

“Thanks for the offer but I think I'll watch the action for a while,” I replied. The truth was I wanted to absorb the atmosphere of the theatre and the play.

“In that case, if I'm not back, can you ring me when they are getting close to when I'm needed? I'll only be five minutes away,” said Phoebe and I agreed to do that. For a moment the thought crossed my mind that if she wasn't back in time, they might call me up on the stage, but then I thought that wasn't very fair, and anyway it might lead to a difficult situation between us since we were sharing a flat. As it happened, she was back in time, and went through her lines very well in my opinion, with only a couple of references to the script.

We broke for an hour's lunch at one o'clock and then came back for the cast to complete the run through. At this point I should mention that we were going to perform the full text of the play, running for nearly four hours, plus a thirty minute interval. Probably the most famous recorded version of 'Hamlet' is Laurence Olivier's 1948 film for which he won an Academy Award, but it is a very heavily edited to conform to the average feature film length of the time, almost cutting the text by half, and whole characters are missing. At least he hardly touched Ophelia's lines.

Phoebe showed me a nice little cafe she had found only five minutes' walk from the theatre. It seemed that a lot of theatre people went there, and we enjoyed a light lunch together..

When the rehearsal was finished, Tony said “Thank you all for coming. I have pinned a rota of cast members and understudies on the notice board next to the stage door, showing when you are required for the next two weeks. There are enough copies for everyone to take home. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at ten o'clock.”

Phoebe had disappeared once her part was completed, so I took a copy for her as well. Now that I knew when I might be required, I could ring the specialist that I had been referred to by Dr Wilson, and see if I could make an appointment on a day I had free. It was just before five o'clock so I rang the rooms in case someone was still there and was pleased when a woman answered “Dr McLeish's clinic.”

I explained who I was and that I had a referral. I also mentioned my occupation and asked if an appointment might be available on the days I had free.

“You are in luck,” was the reply. “There's been a cancellation and I have a four o'clock appointment this Thursday. Can you make that?”

“Yes I can,” I replied.

“This is a private clinic as I expect you know,” she went on. “The cost of an initial consultation is £250 as we allow forty-five minutes. Subsequent appointments are £150.”

I swallowed hard. “Fine,” I said, thinking I was in the wrong profession.

The next couple of days I attended the rehearsals but was not called up to the stage. Phoebe seemed to be remembering her lines better which I'm sure was a relief to her and the director.

I booked my ticket to go down to London on the train, and rang Reggie to tell him what was happening. He said he would meet me at the doctor's clinic and we could have a short time together before I took the evening train back to Stratford.

Thursday morning was a warm sunny day, as indeed it should be since it was now officially summer, but you never know what sort of weather we will get. I had given some thought about what to wear and decided on a bright cotton summer dress which was a pretty lemon yellow colour with a pattern of flowers. I had seen it in a sale in February and couldn't resist buying it even though I knew I would have to wait months to wear it. Under it, for the first time I wore a white silk full slip which I had bought for the bargain price of two pounds at a charity shop in London.

Regarding slips, I know a lot of young women say that only grannies wear them, to which I might reply that grannies are old enough to teach youngsters a thing or two. Slips are pretty and feminine, but they are practical too. They create a smooth body silhouette and help your dress to hang properly on your body instead of bunching up. They also work as an anti-static barrier, stopping some materials clinging to your legs, especially if you wear stockings.

Besides that, no-one can see what other underwear you have on, and you don't ever have a 'Princess Diana' moment, as in that famous (or infamous) photo taken with the sun shining through her dress when she was a nursery assistant. Of course they are nice to wear and make you feel quite glamorous. There is now quite a collection in my lingerie drawer, full slips in white, nude and black in various lengths, and half slips in a variety of colours, and I wear one under every dress or skirt unless it is lined.

When I bought that first full slip, I said to the assistant “I can't believe how cheap it is.”

“No-one seems to wear slips nowadays, except for trannies and grannies,” she replied.

Some imp of mischief made me say “I hope you don't think I'm one?”

“A tranny or a granny?” she laughed. “You're neither; I can spot a tranny a mile off and you're far too young to be a granny.”

For my trip to London, I decided against stockings since it was such a warm day, and painted my toe-nails to match my lipstick and nails and wore open-toed sandals with three inch heels. My hair was longer now and I decided to wear it loose. Phoebe expressed approval when she saw me just before she left for the theatre.

“If you hadn't told me about you, I'd never have known,” she commented.

The journey to London proved uneventful. Learning from the previous experience, I took both my script of Hamlet and also a book to keep me occupied and make sure I didn't make eye contact with any young males in the carriage. The train arrived at Marylebone Station on time and the clinic I was to attend was in Harley Street, well-known for all its clinics and medical specialists. It was not too far from the station, but since I had plenty of time, I took a bus down to Oxford Street with its wonderful collection of shops. It's strange to think now that in my former life, shopping was a real chore but as a young woman there is nothing nicer than spending a few hours especially in the clothing and shoe shops, even if you don't buy anything.

At one point I stopped for a sandwich and cup of tea in a cafe as shopping is hard work, especially in heels! I did finally treat myself to a pretty top that I just couldn't resist, and then it was time to head towards Harley Street and my appointment. As I neared the clinic, I was pleased to see Reggie waiting at the door for me. We exchanged a kiss before we went inside. The receptionist took my referral letter and gave me a form to fill in, the usual things, was I on medication, any past serious diseases, who was my local doctor, etc. On the subject of my address I had a query so went back to her and explained that my current address might be only for a few months, so it was agreed that my address in Bridchester should be given, with a note added about my current Stratford address. Then there was nothing to do but wait, and it always seems the more senior the doctor, the longer you have to wait.

Eventually a door opened and a not terribly convincing person dressed as a young woman appeared and approached the receptionist. Reading back, that sounds rather bitchy, but the fact was that 'she' had far too many male characteristics, such as height and broad shoulders, to easily pass as a female. Then a pretty young woman appeared at the door and said “Harriet?”. I got up and followed her into the consulting room.

“I'm Helen McLeish,” she said in a lilting Scots accent. “Please sit down.”

She opened the letter that the receptionist had passed on to her and quickly scanned the few lines it contained.

“Well now, Doctor Wilson has referred you to me for assessment and possible hormone therapy. Why don't you tell me about yourself?”

As I began an abbreviated history of my life with an emphasis on the last months when I started to express myself as a young woman, I knew of course that she was assessing how successfully I was doing so. I did my best to act naturally, but started to wonder if in fact I was putting on an act instead.

“I hope you will excuse me,” I said. “The fact is that I'm rather nervous which might seem a bit ridiculous when I'm used to standing on a stage and talking in front of several hundred people.”

She smiled at me. “Well the circumstances are a little different. I'll be frank with you; it's my job to ensure that you are genuine in your desire to live your life as a young woman, and of course since you are an actress, and a very good one from what I hear, then it would be much easier for you to be 'putting on an act' rather than expressing your true feelings.”

I blushed at the compliment of course but tried not to let if affect me. “I understand that,” I replied. “But it would be very foolish of me to try and deceive you into giving me hormone treatment if I didn't genuinely want it. I can assure you that the first moment I dressed as Margaret and stood in at the last minute in 'Dear Brutus', I realised what had been wrong with my life up to that time. Ever since that time, I have become more and more convinced that Harriet is the person I was always meant to be.”

“So what is your ultimate goal, Harriet? Do you want to continue dressing and acting as a woman, take hormones to feminise your body and leave it at that, or do you want to undergo reassignment surgery?”

“My goal is to become as complete a woman in body as I can be, thus matching the woman I am in my mind,” I replied.

“Very well,” she replied. “I'm sure you realised that the journey you are undertaking is a long difficult and expensive one. What would you do if I refused to treat you?”

“I don't want to make melodramatic threats about killing myself,” I replied. “But truly I cannot contemplate returning to a life as Harry. He has completely gone now and will never return; so I suppose my only option would be to try to find another doctor who would agree to treat me. Please don't take that as some sort of threat, but it's what I feel.”

Dr McLeish smiled. “It's part of my job to play 'devil's advocate', especially at my first meeting with a patient. I suggest that I now go on to examine you and take some blood for hormone tests if you are in agreement?”

“Certainly doctor,” I replied.

“Please go behind the screen, undress completely and lie face up on the bed. There's a blanket you can use to cover yourself. I will just call in a nurse to be present while I examine you. That's a requirement of the practice, but she will stand in the corner of the room.”

I knew this was coming but I still dreaded it. It was bad enough that every day I had to see bits of me that no woman has, but to have to expose them to another person, even a doctor was much harder. Still, there was nothing for it, so I went behind the screen and did as she asked. In fact the examination wasn't nearly as bad as I feared.

Dr McLeish appeared wearing latex examination gloves after I called out that I was ready. I had heard the door open and close and assumed the nurse was in the room but I couldn't see her.

Dr McLeish actually gasped when she drew the blanket down and saw my breasts. Being so used to them, I had forgotten to mention my breast forms but did so now.

“They're very realistic,” she said. “Do you remove them from time to time?”

“Yes I do, about once a week for a few hours to give my skin a rest,” I replied. “It actually feels a little strange to be without them now. At first I didn't realise how much they affected my posture. Of course I am hoping that with hormones I will eventually have no need of them any more.”

She smiled and carried on with her examination. The part I was dreading was over soon enough as Dr McLeish quickly and efficiently did what she had to do. Finally she said she was finished and that I could now get dressed.

When I appeared from behind the screen, the nurse had gone, and Dr McLeish was now sitting on a chair in front of her desk and motioned me to sit on an armchair a few feet away, which I did, crossing my legs.

“That's a pretty dress you're wearing,” she said.

“Yes, I bought it in Finsbury Park while it was still too cold to wear it. In fact today is the first time I've worn it out of the house.”

“Ah yes, the English weather, but you should try Scotland's,” she said with a smile.

“And I see you've been shopping.” She pointed to the bag with a famous retailer's name which for some reason I'd brought into the consulting room. I don't know why I did that as I could just as easily have left it with Reggie to look after.

“Yes, I was early, so I looked around the Oxford Street shops for a couple of hours,” I replied. “I could easily have spent thousands if I had them, but I restricted myself to buying just one top. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes please,” she replied and I took the thin silk blouse out of the bag, unwrapping the tissue paper that contained it.

“Oh my, that's lovely!” she exclaimed. “You certainly know how to buy clothes that suit you.”

It suddenly occurred to me that with the examination out of the way, I was now relaxed in a way I certainly hasn't been previously. Now doubt it was obvious to Dr McLeish too.

“Well now, down to business,” she said with a smile. “You will need to have some blood tests done, but if they are satisfactory, I am prepared to start you on oestrogen therapy. The dose depends on your results, so I will post the prescription to you. I presume you've read up on the internet the likely reactions to the treatment?”

“Yes, I have,” I replied, while in my mind I was performing cartwheels.

“Very good. I would like to see you again in a month. Will you have started performances by then?”

“Well, I'm an understudy but I still have to be at the theatre for performances just in case I'm needed. In fact the only day I have off is Sunday.”

“It's a very busy life you lead,” she said. “Well you are not the only patient of mine with a similar problem, so once a month I do hold a clinic for a couple of hours on a Sunday morning. The next one is due this coming Sunday, so on your way out, please make an appointment with the receptionist for a month's time. I'll give you a request form for the blood tests. There is a collection centre a few doors up the road, and the sooner you get the tests done the sooner I can send you the prescription.”

I assumed that was the end of the interview and was about to get up when she said. “One more thing. Is that young man who came in with you your boyfriend?”

I could feel myself blushing. “Yes he is, and he is very supportive of me.”

“That's good to hear,” she replied. “It might be wise to warn him that you will probably get mood swings when you start on the hormones. You will be even more of a young woman than you are at present, and I will be frank with you, you already present as a young female better than ninety percent of my patients, particularly when you are relaxed.”

She stood up then and it appeared my first consultation was over. After I left her room, I glanced at my watch and was surprised to find that nearly an hour had passed. I made my next appointment and settled the account.

When we left the building Reggie said “How did it go?”

“Very well,” I replied. “She's a really nice lady. I need to get some blood tests done now and if they are alright I'll be starting on hormones very soon. She did tell me to warn you that I might get mood swings, just like any other girl does.”

Reggie smiled. “So will I notice a difference?” he said teasing me. I punched him playfully on the arm.

“What a dreadful man you are!” I exclaimed. “I don't know what I see in you.”

He smiled as he took my hand. “Perhaps it's got something to do with me loving you?”

“Oh Reggie, what would I do without you?” I said and kissed him on the cheek.

I found the blood collection clinic and had half an arm drained. When I returned to the waiting room, Reggie asked how long it was until my train departed.

“I've got about an hour and a half,” I said.

“So we've got time to find a cafe and have a cuppa then before we go to the station.”

“Oh Reggie, I wish you were coming with me. When can you come up to Stratford or would you like me to come to Southgate?”

It being summer now, Reggie was playing cricket almost every Saturday, and I certainly wasn't going to ask him to forego that because he enjoyed it so much.

“Well, if you can come down to London while the cricket matches are on, we can have Saturday night and most of Sunday together, and when you start your performances and have to stay in Stratford, I'll come up as often as I can. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” I replied. It wasn't really perfect of course, but it was the best we could do in the circumstances and at least I would get to see him most weeks.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 31   Family and friends

Reggie and I spent a happy hour together before I had to get on the train and return to Stratford, and I promised to return the following weekend to see him and stay Saturday night at the flat in Southgate.

Three days later I received a phone call from Dr McLeish to say that my blood tests had been quite satisfactory, and that she would be posting a prescription for oestrogen to me. It duly arrived on Friday, and I immediately went to a local pharmacy to obtain my first batch of hormones. I think I will always remember the day when I took the first tablet – I was on my way to becoming a complete woman, well as complete as any transgender woman can be.

The rehearsals were going quite well. Naturally, Tony Robertson was devoting most of his time to the cast, and the understudies were under the care of the Assistant Director, Marilyn Greenwood. She had only just arrived, having been caught up in another production which had just finished. She turned out to be very pleasant and very competent. Most of the understudies were 'off book' by now, and we usually rehearsed in a hall behind the theatre, occasionally going to the theatre itself when it wasn't occupied.

On the Friday of my first oestrogen tablet, I mentioned to Phoebe that I was going down to London to see Reggie, and she very kindly offered me the use of her car, since she was going away with Paul for the weekend.

“That's very kind of you Phoebe,” I replied. “But there is one problem, I can't drive.”

“I didn't mean to embarrass you,” she said. “You're nearly nineteen now. Don't you think it's time you learned?”

“You're right, it is. I'm going to make enquiries at a driving school on Monday.”

That evening I packed the clothes I wanted to take, and first thing Saturday morning I went to the railway station and took the train to Marylebone. From there I took the tube to Southgate Station where Reggie met me. Richard was away, so Reggie had use of his car and drove us both down to the Walker Cricket Ground in Waterfall Road, just a few minutes' drive away. It was another warm sunny day so I wore my second summer dress, white this time with a rose pattern, and of course I wore my white slip under it and my white sandals. Because of the sun, I also brought along a straw hat. In the unlikely event that I took the stage as Ophelia, I couldn't see her having a sunburned face

Reggie introduced me to the wife of the club chairman and then went off to get changed into his 'creams'. Peggy Broughton was a charming woman and greeted me warmly.

“You are very welcome to the club, my dear. What a pretty dress! It's impossible to get my two daughters out of trousers. I keep telling them that they'll never find a man if they insist on looking like lorry drivers. Now your young man is just the sort of person we need in the club. We were so disappointed to hear that he is going off to study in York and won't be with us much longer. My husband says he is very talented.”

'Goodness me,' I thought. 'This woman could talk under wet cement.' Then as inevitably happens I felt terrible having such uncharitable thoughts, especially when she led me to the deckchairs where the women partners of the players were sitting in front of the pavilion, and introduced me to several more of the wives.

It seemed that Reggie's team were batting first and I was surprised to see him as one of the first two batsmen to take to the field. How like Reggie not to tell me that he was an opening batsman.

I could write all I know about the finer points of cricket on the back of a postage stamp, but I certainly could appreciate the elegance and fluidity of Reggie's strokes at the ball. Several times it went to the fence, and I could see his numbers steadily climbing on the score board. He had just reached fifty-one to applause from the small crowd, which he acknowledged with a wave of his bat, when it appeared there was some confusion as he and his partner ran between the wickets, and he started to walk back to the pavilion.

Reggie disappeared inside and a few minutes later appeared again after removing his pads and storing his bat, and came and sat on the grass beside my deckchair.

“That was really well done,” I said enthusiastically.

He laughed “Apart from the confusion at the end.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I was run out. Charlie called the run then said 'no' and then changed his mind and started to run. I had no choice but to run too, but I was hopelessly out of my crease.”

I didn't really understand the intricacies of what he was saying, and decided that I must learn more about cricket, so maybe I would get a book from the library. I wondered if there was a 'Cricket for Dummies'? Perhaps Reggie could draw me a diagram of fielding placements, I mean 'third man', 'gully', 'silly mid on', I've heard the words before, but what on earth did they mean?

Reggie's team scored two hundred and ten. It was a limited over match, I understood that at least, and it would be over in one day. When the other team went in to bat, Reggie had told me he would be bowling and also mostly fielding in slips. He saw the look on my face and grinning said “Don't say it!” I have no idea what he meant of course!

When I saw him and two other team members standing to the side and slightly behind the batsman, I realised I knew one fielding position. I also realised it meant that Reggie and the others two didn't have to run far for the ball, thus conserving their energy for when they were bowling. Reggie started off very well by holding a catch, and later on, when he was bowling he was responsible for two more wickets when the batsmen were caught off his bowling. All this was explained to me later. At the end of the game, Reggie's team won when the other side was all out for one hundred and eighty-five.

Afterwards everyone was invited into the pavilion for a meal provided by the lady members. There were some speeches and Reggie was mentioned as vice-captain, something else I didn't know, and also awarded the 'man of the match' trophy. I felt so proud of him. Several of the members who by now were aware that I was his girlfriend, spoke to us and complimented Reggie on his performance.

“I don't suppose you can persuade him to stay in London and keep playing for us?” said one old gentleman with a florid complexion who seemed to have trouble taking his eyes off my bosom.

“I'm sorry, I can't do that,” I replied. “He's quite set on going to university in York, and I support him in that.”

“Hmm, pity,” he replied. “He's been a breath of fresh air at the club.”

Reggie looked a bit embarrassed and was glad when the old boy walked off.

“Don't believe everything you hear,” he said. “There's a lot of good players in this team. It's not a one-man band.”

That was typically Reggie, being modest about his accomplishments.

Once the meal was over, it seemed that some of the older members were prepared to do some hard drinking which wasn't our scene, so we made our farewells and drove back to the flat. We had a cup of coffee and then went to bed.

It was lovely to spend the whole night with Reggie, something we hadn't had much opportunity to do previously, apart from our trip to Wales. I don't need to go into details except to say that is was a very enjoyable night and we even managed to get in a few hours' sleep!

We slept in on Sunday morning and finally got up about ten o'clock. It was an lovely day, not doing anything very much but just enjoying each other's company. We went out for lunch at a local pub, and at four o'clock, Reggie took me to the tube station and insisted on coming with me to Marylebone where he waved me off on the train to Stratford before going back home on the tube.

Rehearsals continued. Mostly I was rehearsing as Ophelia, but occasionally I played the part of Queen Gertrude. Thanks to my memory, I was 'off book' on both parts before almost everyone else. It seemed very unlikely that I would be playing Queen Gertrude, but on a few occasions Tony appeared at rehearsals and expressed satisfaction on both the parts I was playing.

I should mention that I was still in touch with Antonette back in London. She rang me almost every week, and told me she had now been to see a doctor and was taking Aldactone, just as I had been. There had been a family conference and it was agreed that she would change schools and start attending a new one as Antonette. She seemed nervous and excited about that, but was also very determined that this was the person she wanted to be. She asked how I was going so I thought it would do no harm to tell her that I was now on hormones.

“Have you noticed many changes?” she asked.

“A few but they are slow,” I said. “My breasts are starting to grow and I think my skin is softer, but it's only been a few weeks and these things take time.”

She wished me good luck and rang off.

My next phone call was quite different. I normally rang Mum and Emma once a week, and I wasn't due to hear from Emma for some days when she rang up.

“Is anything wrong Em?” I said.

“No, well not exactly wrong,” she replied. “The fact is, well I've got news for you, you're going to become an aunty.”

I was shocked into silence for quite a few seconds.

“Harriet, are you alright?” Emma sounded anxious.

“Yes I'm fine. It was just a bit of a shock, that's all.”

“A nice shock I hope,” she said.

“Yes of course. Congratulations, to you and David. You're pleased of course.” I said it as a statement rather than a question, and hoped she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

“Yes of course we're pleased. We were a bit surprised too as I was on the 'pill', but sometimes these things happen.”

“Well it's great news. How did Mum take it?”

“Well she was a bit shocked of course, but yes, she's pleased for us.”

“And Penny, what about her?”

“We were quite worried about telling her, thinking she might be jealous, but surprisingly she's quite excited at the thought of having a little brother or sister; well half-brother or sister of course but you know what I mean.”

“Em, I'm really pleased for you, I'm sure you'll make a great mother,” I said, hoping I was making up for my apparent lack of enthusiasm on first hearing the news.

“Well, there's more to tell you. We always intended to get married of course, but now we've brought it forward, in fact it will be in four weeks' time on the Saturday. You may think I'm vain but I'd rather not have a baby bump in my wedding photos.

“The ceremony will be at St John's church where Mum goes, and the ladies of the local Women's Institute are catering for the reception which will be in the church hall next door. It's going to be a small wedding, only about twenty guests. I don't know when Hamlet starts but we're hoping you will be able to come.”

“Well, you seem to have it all organised, and that's perfect timing actually,” I replied. “Opening night is the following Saturday, which would have been a problem, but yes, of course I'll be there.”

“Good. Oh, there's one more thing, Penny is very excited to be a bridesmaid, every little girl's dream, but we have budgeted for two.”

“Who did you have in mind?” I asked, thinking it was probably an old school friend.

“You of course, dummy,” she laughed, and of course so did I.

“O.K., I'm a dumb blonde. There's just one thing, how many of the guests know that you used to have a brother not a sister?” I asked.

“Well most of the guests are from Apollo, so they already know, and the others probably don't remember anyway. Put it this way, if you're not worried then I'm not, and neither is David.”

“Well in that case I am honoured to accept. It's certainly not something I ever expected to do,” I replied.

“Reggie is invited too of course. In fact, do you think he'd be willing to 'give me away'? I know it's a hangover from the days when women were regarded as their father's possession, but it is part of the ceremony, and we would like a traditional wedding.”

“I'm sure he'd be honoured too, but there might be a problem. He plays cricket most Saturdays, so I'm not sure he'd be able to come, but I'll ask him and let you know as soon as I can. Now, what about dresses, have you sorted that out too?”

“Well, I've already decided on a pale cream silk gown, since it would seem a bit hypocritical to wear white. Can you come up next weekend, and we can go shopping for a dress for you and Penny?”

“Of course, and please let me pay for both bridesmaid's dresses,” I said. I knew that Emma didn't have a lot of money and I was on a reasonable wage now, so it seemed only fair to help out.

“That's very sweet of you,” she said. “We'll have a fun time shopping. Maybe you can get some new shoes to match?”

“That's a given,” I laughed. I'm sure Mum will enjoy coming along too. In fact please let me pay for her outfit too.”

“Goodness me, have you won the lottery?”

“No, but I'm on a decent wage for an actress, even if I am an understudy; after all I'm understudying two roles so there was quite a bit of learning involved.”

“I'm sorry, this phone call has been all about me,” she said. “Are the rehearsals still going well?”

“Yes they are. In fact I was going to tell you, I actually had a chance to go through a couple of scenes with David and that was totally awesome. He's an amazing actor.”

She laughed. “You sound quite 'star struck'.”

“Well, acting with a great actor makes you lift your own performance. Another thing, there's a whisper that some of the understudies may get a chance to act in a matinee during the run. Maybe it's just a rumour to keep us on top of our game, but it would be an amazing experience.”

“And no more than you deserve,” she replied.

We rang off after that, leaving me to digest the implications of Emma's news. Babies may be very small, but they have a massive effect on lives. Emma would be moving out to live with David, so Mum would be on her own. I would have to seriously consider if I should put my career on hold and move back to Brid to be with her.

The next day I rang Reggie to tell him the news and also Emma's request.

“I'm not putting any pressure on you to come, Reggie,” I said. “I know how much you enjoy your cricket and that the club expects you to be there.”

“What date did you say the wedding was?” said Reggie.

“Saturday, the twenty-fourth of June,” I replied.

“Well that's perfect,” he said. “My club has a bye on that day so I have the weekend off. In fact I was going to check if you were still free and suggest we go away together.”

“Hmm, just our luck, but it's not every day my sister gets married and I'm asked to be a bridesmaid.” Then I went on to tell him about Emma's request that he stand in for our late father and 'give her away'.

“Well I never expected to do that until...” and he stopped abruptly. “I'm sorry Harriet, that was really thoughtless of me.”

“It's alright Reggie, really. Believe me, if there was some way I could have children I would love to, but medical science hasn't advanced that far yet.”

“Well there is adoption,” he said.

“Let's not talk about it now,” I said, feeling myself starting to get upset. “The main thing is I can tell Emma that you will come to the wedding. She will be so pleased, and so am I.”

“I'll go up by train on the Friday and stay with Mum and Dad. Just let me know what sort of suit to wear, business or dinner.”

“We'll be sorting that out next weekend,” I replied. “I'm sorry Reggie, but Emma asked me to go up to Brid so we can go shopping for bridesmaid's and 'mother of the bride' dresses.”

“I understand,” he replied. “I know that weddings are a lot more work for women than men, but I'm sure you'll all look fabulous.”

My goodness, where will I ever find another man like Reggie?

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 32   Wedding Preparations

Rehearsals continued and seemed to be going very well. A curious thing happened during the week. I had the good fortune to be asked to play Ophelia in a rehearsal of her final scene where she has gone mad after being rejected by Hamlet. Dame Emily was playing the Queen, with Reg Oldham, understudy for the King.

It is a very emotional scene, more for the other players than Ophelia, who sings and talks nonsense throughout, but the important thing is to make the audience as well as the players feel sympathy for her. I have always immersed myself in the characters I play, some might say too much, but I don't think so.

I came to my final lines -

'I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot
choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground.
My brother shall know of it; and so I thank you for your good
counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet
ladies. Good night, good night.'

At this point I left the stage, and when I walked onto it again it was to see Dame Emily wiping a tear from her eye.

“Excellent Harriet, truly excellent,” she said as though her throat was constricted, and she gave me a hug.

Reg added his congratulations “I've never seen Ophelia played better,” he said.

This was getting a bit embarrassing, after all, I was only the understudy.

Tony came up onto the stage and said “Well done Harriet. Now I have a favour to ask of you. I need to run through the scene again with Phoebe tomorrow and Dame Emily won't be here. You've probably heard that her understudy Madge has a really bad cold so she's staying away for a few days to avoid spreading it around the cast. Would you mind playing Queen Gertrude tomorrow?”

“No, of course not, I'd be happy to,” I replied. So the following day I was on-stage again in the same scene but this time as Queen Gertrude. In some ways it seemed rather strange to be watching Phoebe speak and sing the same lines I had done the day before, while I played another character. Both Reg and I congratulated her of course. You will wonder what I thought of her performance compared to my own. Well that's really not for me to say, but she is a competent actress and performed very well.

Tony was finishing Friday rehearsals about four o'clock in order to give us all a full weekend off. Once the play opened there would be a matinee and evening performance each Saturday, so we would only have Sundays off.. On Friday I took my small suitcase and makeup case into the theatre, so that I could go straight to the railway station once we had finished.

I took the four-thirty train for the forty-five minute journey to Birmingham's Moor Street Station. It was then necessary to walk over to New Street Station, about five minutes away in order to take the train to York, where I arrived about eight-thirty, and finally the train to Bridchester, arriving about nine-thirty, so it was quite a journey. I thought to myself that I should seriously think about getting the driving lessons I had promised myself and then buying a small car. Since that time I've made the journey by car many times and while it takes about the same length of time, it seems shorter, not having the changes of trains and waiting around on drafty platforms.

Emma was at the theatre when I arrived home, but Mum welcomed me with open arms.

“Darling, it's so lovely to see you again,” she said, although it hadn't been many weeks since I saw her last. We hugged, and then she held me at arm's length and said “Look at you! You become more the young lady every time I see you.”

“It's great to see you too Mum. How's Emma?”

“She's going well. She had some morning sickness but it's just about gone now, and she's looking really well.”

“Were you as shocked as I was when you heard the news?”

“I confess I was, but I'm really happy for them. David will make a great father I'm sure. I've seen how he is with his daughter Penny.”

I took a deep breath. “Mum, I'm thinking of coming back to Brid when the Stratford season is over.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” she asked.

“Well, I'm getting a bit homesick. I've been away quite a few months.”

“Harriet!” she scolded. “You're a very good actress, you could say it as though you really meant it. I know the real reason; you're worried about me being on my own aren't you?”

I flushed. “Yes of course I worry Mum. What if you got sick again?”

“Well Emma and David will be living only ten minutes away, and I'm going to get one of those gadgets you wear around your neck so I can call for help if I ever need it.”

“That's a great idea,” I replied.

“Oh, and another thing, I'm getting a little job. Emma told me that there is a vacancy coming up in the ticket office at the theatre. She recommended me and they're taking me on. It's a few hours a day, but it will get me out and the money will come in useful as well.”

I felt a wave of relief come over me. Of course I didn't want to come back to Brid at this time, but I felt torn between my career and family responsibility.

“You mustn't come back here right now,” said Mum. “Your career is really taking off. I can see you getting another part, and not as an understudy. Maybe it will be at Stratford or maybe even the West End, who knows? Now how about something to eat?”

It's true that food on trains and railway stations is not exactly gourmet fare, so when Mum produced a casserole she had made that day, I was more than ready for some good nourishing home cooking. Not long afterwards, Emma arrived home and there were more hugs. Then she sat down to a small plate of casserole and in between mouthfuls asked me how the rehearsals were going, so of course I had to bring her up to date. I asked about David and the baby and how the wedding preparations were going, and it was nearly midnight by the time we went to bed.

The following morning we were up about eight o'clock, ready for breakfast. Emma had previously checked out the shops in Bridchester and there was nothing she fancied as a wedding dress, so we were going to York instead. David arrived shortly after with Penny.

“Hi everyone. Goodness Harriet, you're looking amazing,” he said. “I don't think you've met Penny before.”

Penny was clutching David's hand, shy at meeting someone new, so I stooped down to her level to talk to her.

“Hello Penny, I'm please to meet you. You can call me Harriet or Aunty Harriet, whichever you like.”

“Aunty Harriet, I think,” she said.

“Good. We'll we're going to have a fun time today, just us girls. We're going to buy some really pretty dresses for the wedding, and you must help us chose the one that's perfect for you, alright?” She nodded in response.

I stood up and addressed David. “Do you think Penny would be happier if you came along too?”

“Oh Good Lord,” he responded. “Trawling around dress shops all day isn't my cup of tea.” Turning to Penny he said “Will you be alright going with the other ladies to York today?”

Emma took over then and said “I'm sure she'll be alright, it's a 'girls' day out' today, and we're going to have a lot of fun.”

Penny didn't respond but she still looked a bit doubtful and I hoped she was going to be alright.

With breakfast finished, we got into the car, with Mum and Emma, who was driving, in the front, and Penny and I in the back. Penny seemed to be more relaxed and started talking to me.

“Daddy says you are an actress too,” she said.

“Yes, that's right,” I replied. “I'm working in Stratford-Upon-Avon now. That's where William Shakespeare was born. Have you heard of him?”

“Yes, Daddy says he lived a long time ago and wrote lots of plays,” she responded.

“That's right. Well I'm what's called an understudy in a play called 'Hamlet'. That means that if the lady playing the part can't do it for some reason, then I will replace her,” I said.

“Is that going to happen?” she asked.

“Well I don't know, but I have to be there just in case. People pay to come along to watch the play and we wouldn't want to disappoint them.”

“I suppose not,” she replied.

Then changing the subject I said. “This is exciting, I've never been a bridesmaid before, have you?” I asked this knowing the answer as I'd already asked Emma about Penny to have some background information and not put my foot in it about her mother.

“Yes, I was a bridesmaid when Daddy's sister got married last year,” she replied.

“Oh, well you know all about it then, so I can ask you if I need to know what to do,” I said, and that seemed to go over very well.

It took us about an hour to get to York, and after parking the car, we decided that a drink and something to eat was necessary to fortify us for some serious shopping. Suitably fueled we started walking around the shops, visiting several 'wedding boutiques' until Emma finally found the 'perfect gown' in pale cream silk chiffon, and for me we found a similar silk chiffon gown in pale blue.

Then it was time to find something for our junior bridesmaid, and after a visit to another boutique we found a sleeveless organza knee-length dress with a flared skirt in the same colour as my gown. When Penny came out of the change-rooms with Emma, she looked so pretty that we were really impressed and showered her with compliments. She looked thrilled and confirmed that this was the dress that she wanted to wear.

The next stop was to find Mum's 'mother of the bride' outfit and of course it had to be something that both she and Emma liked. Finally we found the perfect dress for Mum, who had quite a slim figure. It was a lace dress in royal blue with a cropped jacket with three quarter sleeves, and came with a matching hat. Mum looked so stylish wearing it. She started to quibble about the price but I told her it was my treat and a small recompense for all that she had done for me. I could tell she was absolutely thrilled with it.

By now we were more than ready for lunch, so we called into a cafe and had a really nice meal. The final step was to find suitable shoes to go with the dresses and that took another good two hours. It was just as well that Emma had parked the car in one of the parks where you pay on the way out. Clothes shopping always takes longer than you expect. By the time we arrive back in Bridchester it was nearly four o'clock. Emma had kept David posted on our progress, so he wasn't worried that we had taken so long. I was a little concerned about her having to go to the theatre after such a long day shopping, but she assured us she was alright. Fortunately she only had a small part in the new production, as I thought she looked tired.

Mum had already seen the play, but I went to the performance at her insistence. I debated what to wear and settled on my tea-length fuchia dress with a bateau neckline and fitted bodice which flared into a full pleated skirt. I'd only worn it twice before, and teamed it with sheer stockings and black court shoes with six inch heels. Thank goodness I'd left it at home. I showed it to Mum first and asked if she thought it was too 'dressy' for a night at the theatre. She thought it was fine and when I was dressed, she told me I looked lovely, and that was all I needed to know.

Everyone performed well, but perhaps having now mixed with the cream of Britain's acting talent I found myself taking a more critical look at the performances, and thinking where particular scenes could be done better. However I didn't say anything, but congratulated all the cast when I went round to the dressing rooms afterwards. I wouldn't have wanted them to think I was getting to be a snob, and indeed hoped that I wasn't.

Mary was there and came over to give me a hug. “Wow Harriet, you look amazing,” she said.

“Thank you. You performed very well,” I replied, which was true.

“Well, I'm sitting out the next production because there isn't a suitable part for me,” she replied. “But you are doing so well, Stratford, no less.”

“Well in a way it's all due to you and your appendix,” I replied. “I might never be doing what I'm doing if it wasn't for that. Anyway, I'm an understudy, so I might never get a chance to go on stage at all.”

“Even if you don't, it's still going to look good on your C.V.,” she replied.

When Emma drove us back to the house, she also complimented me on my appearance. “You look like a really sophisticated young lady. How are the hormones going?” she asked.

“Well I've only been on them a week so I can't really tell but I feel there are slight changes in my breasts and I might have to stop wearing the breast forms soon. I also seem to be getting a few mood swings, but the doctor told me to expect that.”

“Well it's all part of growing up to be a girl,” she replied. “David tells me that Penny hasn't stopped talking about you since she got home, so you've made a fan there.”

“Well I'm glad we got on so well,” I replied. “It must be hard for her with her mother away and hardly ever seeing her.”

“Well David would never stop her seeing her mother, but she's over in America at present and we're not sure when she's coming back.”

“Poor kid. She's such a sweet little thing; she deserves better,” I said. “I know that ever since Cinderella, stepmothers have had bad press, but I'm sure you'll be a really good one.”

“And you'll be a good aunty too,” she said.

Sunday morning I was up about eight o'clock, put my dressing gown over my nightdress and went down to the kitchen. Mum was there making toast and boiling the kettle.

“Emma's still in bed,” she said. “I won't disturb her. She's looking very tired, and I'm glad the play is nearly finished. Pregnancy takes it out of a woman.”

'I only wish I had the opportunity to feel that,' I thought. 'But we can't have everything we want in life.'

I stayed until after lunch by which time Emma was up, and she drove me to the railway station for the trip back to Stratford.

“Now you get as much rest as you can,” I said, and she laughed.

“You sound like Mum,” she said.

“No, I sound like a concerned aunty,” I replied. “As far as Penny is concerned, it seems that I'm one already. What happens to her while you and David are at the theatre?”

“She stays with David's sister Susan. I don't think you've met her yet but you will on our wedding day. She's very nice and so kind in looking after Penny. She says it's practise for when she has children of her own.”

“Well, I'll see you in three weeks,” I said.

With that we hugged and I walked down the platform and got on the train. The journey back to Stratford was uneventful, and I arrived there about seven o'clock. Phoebe was out but came back an hour later. We watched some television together and then I went to bed.

We were back at rehearsals on Monday and everything seemed to be going very well. While most of my rehearsals were with the other understudies, I did get the occasional opportunity to rehearse with cast members. On Wednesday I had a scene with Polonius, Ophelia's father who was being played by Sir John McKenna. By now I had overcome my original 'star-struck' attitude to the famous names and faces I was coming into contact with. Most of them, like Dame Emily were very unassuming and friendly people.

As the scene progressed, and it was going really well, Sir John paused and I suddenly realised he was experiencing the actors' worst nightmare – a 'dry'. I quietly whispered his next line and he took it up like the trooper he is and we finished the scene well. Later he sought me out and taking my hand, patted it and said “Thank you so much my dear, you got me out of a hole there.” I smiled at him and murmured “My pleasure.”

I didn't think Tony had seen what happened, but it appears not much escapes him, as a little later he took me aside and said “Nicely done, Harriet. I'm sure an audience would never have noticed.”

Looking back now, I can't help wondering if the two of them had set it up to test my reaction to a mini-crisis on stage, and see if I panicked.

Returning to the flat that evening, I found Phoebe already there and in a state of ill-concealed excitement. It was her turn to provide tea which often meant 'take-away', so I wasn't surprised to see plastic boxes on the kitchen table and the unmistakable aroma of Chinese food.

“You need to sit down, Harriet,” she said. “I've got something to tell you.”

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 33   A debt repaid

I sat down on a kitchen chair as Phoebe requested. My first thought was that she was going to tell me she was pregnant, but the real reason for her excitement was quite different.

“Do you remember me telling you that they sent my character Jesse in 'Wensleydale' off to Australia? Well apparently the ratings have tanked since I left. I had a call from my agent just after I got back to the flat. They've sacked the guy who decided to write me out of the show, and now they are begging me to return.”

I smiled at her. “Well that's great, you'll have something to go to once Hamlet is finished.”

“You don't understand,” she replied, a bit impatient at my denseness I think. “They want me back like now!”

“But what about Ophelia?” I said and my heart started to pound.

“Oh that's the easy part,” she replied. “They'll ask you to take over. You should have been playing the part from the start. In fact I don't know why they chose me and not you in the first place. Oh I'm not a bad actor for things like tv soaps but I'm not the person for Shakespeare, whereas you were born to play his roles.”

I'm sure I sat there with my mouth open trying to take it all in.

“But you're contracted to play the part,” I said at last, weakly.

“Well Terry, my agent will be ringing the producers in the morning and arranging to buy out my contract.” She seemed very sure he would be successful.

“I know what you're thinking,” she said. “But he'll be offering serious money, and since they've got you waiting in the wings I can't see them saying 'no'.”

“But what about here, the flat?” I asked. “You'll have to move to Leeds won't you?”

“Hmmm. Yes I hadn't thought of that, but I won't leave you in the lurch. I'll keep paying my half of the rent until you find someone else to share with. Terry says they have offered me a substantial increase in pay.”

She seemed to have an answer for everything, completely forgetting that my finding a suitable person to share with might not be that easy.

“Have you told Tony?” I asked.

“Not yet, I thought I'd tell you first.”

“Well I think you should, and the sooner the better. He's bound to ask me how long I've known about it, but I wouldn't go behind your back to tell him.”

“Perhaps you're right,” she replied and went into her bedroom to call the director.

When she came back a few minutes later, she looked a bit pale as she held out the phone to me. “He wants to talk to you,” she whispered.

“Harriet, how long have you known about this?” he didn't sound too happy.

“About fifteen minutes, Tony. Phoebe just told me,” I replied.

“Hmmm. Well you'll have to take over of course,” I couldn't tell from his voice if he was pleased about that or not.

“Yes Tony,” I replied. What else could I say?

“I'll see you in the morning; oh, and get your agent to call our production company office, we'll have to renegotiate your contract,” he concluded before putting down the phone. He was obviously not a happy man.

I walked back into the lounge where Phoebe was sitting down, still looking rather shaken.

“He wants me to get my agent to call the production company,” I said. “The thing is, I don't have an agent.”

Phoebe managed a smile. “My dear sweet innocent Harriet. Sometimes you are so naïve I really worry about you. Has no-one ever told you that you need an agent?”

“Well, yes,” I admitted. “I just hadn't got around to it and I just accepted what they offered me. So how do I go about getting one?”

“Well I could recommend my agent but it might not look good. Why don't you ring Dame Emily and ask her advice? You seem to be good friends.”

“I don't like to bother her,” I replied.

“Harriet! Ring her!” she ordered, so I did.

Dame Emily answered right away, and I explained what had happened.

“I see,” she said. She didn't sound surprised. “Leave it with me, I'll get someone to call you.”

Five minutes later the phone rang. “Miss Stow? I'm Richard Green, Dame Emily Good's agent. She asked me to ring you. How can I help?”

I explained the situation to him as briefly as I could.

“Well, I'll be happy to act for you if you want me to. I charge the standard 10% commission and we can go into the details later when we meet up, as I'll be in Stratford next week. How much are they paying you now?”

I told him, and his response was “I see. Well I think we can negotiate a bit better than that for you, now you are going to be part of the regular cast. I'll ring you tomorrow evening.”

-

The next morning, I was up early, having only slept fitfully during the night. I had just about finished my breakfast when Phoebe appeared.

“I don't think I'll go to the theatre today,” she said. “There's not much point and I don't really want to face Tony. Can you say goodbye to the cast for me?”

“Alright,” I said. “When do you think you'll be going to Leeds?”

“I'm waiting for a call,” she said. “It might even be tomorrow.”

I arrived at the theatre early. It sounds silly but I hadn't told Mum and Reggie because I still thought that Tony might change his mind and audition for a new Ophelia. News had already gone around about Phoebe's departure. Everyone was congratulating me and saying they were sure I'd do a great job in the role. Perhaps it was just as well that Phoebe wasn't there.

Tony came up and greeted me. “Well, Harriet, I know that you are comfortable with the script, but you've hardly been through all your scenes with the cast before, so that's what I want us to do today.”

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Tony hadn't changed his mind.

It was a very hard day of rehearsing. Ophelia isn't a large part, about two hundred and fifty lines in all, but in the mad scenes it is very intense. I have always had a tendency to throw myself body and soul into dramatic parts and that can be very tiring. At the end of the day I felt totally exhausted. Tony could see how I felt and suggested I go back to the flat and get a good night's sleep. I promised I would, but I knew I must wait up for a call from Richard, the agent.

When I arrived back at the flat I found it was empty and there was a note on the kitchen table for me.

”Dear Harriet,

I've been asked to go up to Leeds today. They are very anxious to get started on some new episodes of “Wensleydale”. I tried to phone you at the theatre, but they said you were rehearsing. Best wishes for the show. I'll call you.

Love,

Phoebe

So that was it – I was suddenly on my own and I didn't really like it. I wanted to phone Reggie but I had to wait until I heard from Richard. Fortunately he rang me only thirty minutes later.

“Hello Miss Stow, it's Richard Green, how are you going?”

“Hello Richard, please call me Harriet. I've had an exhausting day rehearsing.”

“Well I think I may be able to put a smile on your face,” he said and told me the new salary he had negotiated for me. I was glad to be sitting down, it was over three times what I had been receiving.

“You're pleased I hope?” he said, possibly taking my silence as disappointment.

“Oh yes, very pleased,” I replied. “A bit shocked to be honest.”

He laughed. “I'm in Stratford next Wednesday, let's meet for lunch or dinner, my treat.”

“I don't get much time for lunch,” I replied. “Rehearsals are really intense at the moment.”

“Dinner it is then,” he replied.

After Richard's call, I rang Mum to tell her the news. She was thrilled of course.

“It's no more than you deserve my dear,” she said.

“I can hardly believe it, when I think of what I was doing last year,” I said.

“True, but think how much happier you are now,” she replied.

Next, I phoned Reggie. “That's wonderful news,” he said. “You'll do a great job, I know you will.”

The following morning I was back at the theatre again and the first person I bumped into was Tony.

“Harriet, I think we were a bit hard on you yesterday. I'll make sure today is a lot easier. We don't want you collapsing, especially as right now you don't have an understudy. I've contacted the local agents to see if they have anyone suitable but they haven't called me back yet.”

It was then that I had a flash of inspiration.

“Tony, I don't want to interfere, but I know someone who might fit the bill. Her name is Mary Webb and she is part of the Apollo Players where I started out. I think she's a good actress. She's in a play that finishes next weekend, with nothing lined up at present. She's about my age, and I remember her telling me she played Ophelia in a school production a few years ago, so she mightn't take too long to refresh her memory on the lines.”

“I see. Well on your recommendation I'm prepared to give her an audition. Why don't you get in touch with her and see if she can get down here next Monday at two o'clock. The audition will be the same lines as you had at yours. No promises mind, and emphasise that she would have to start rehearsing right away if she gets the position. Time is of the essence.”

I wasn't required on stage for thirty minutes, so I went out into the foyer and rang Mary. She answered my call straight away.

“Hi Mary, it's Harriet here, I've got some news for you. Phoebe Wells who was going to play Ophelia has left the show and gone back to “Wensleydale”, so they've asked me to step into her shoes.”

“Wow, Harriet, that's great news, congratulations,” she replied.

“Something that might interest you is that they are now looking for an understudy for me.”

“An understudy? For Ophelia? At Stratford?” her voice rose to a squeak. “Absolutely I'd be interested!”

“I've recommended you to the director Tony Robertson, and he is going to hold auditions next Monday at 2pm. There's no guarantees of course, as he'll probably audition some other girls too, but it's worth a shot, particularly if you tell him you could start straight away.”

“That's wonderful, thank you so much for thinking of me Harriet,” she said. I didn't say so, but I thought that at long last this was a way of repaying the debt I felt I owed her after taking over her role in 'Dear Brutus'.

“I've got a little car now, so I think I'll drive down on Monday morning early,” she went on.

I told Mary what lines to learn from Hamlet, and also suggested that she have another Shakespeare speech in reserve in case Tony asked her for one. Then I had a sudden thought.

“Mary, I was sharing a two bedroom flat with Phoebe and she has already left, so you are welcome to stay overnight if you like. In fact, why don't you bring enough clothes to last the week? That way, if you get the position, you could start straight away and won’t have to go back to Brid for clothes.”

“This sounds better and better! I'm so excited,” she said.

I thought I had better sound a note of caution. “I did say that there's no guarantee you will get the role, Mary, but I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. I'll be at the theatre in the morning so I suggest you come straight there, and we can go to the flat after the auditions and rehearsals finish for the day.”

Reggie was playing cricket again, so I took the train down to London and then the tube out to Southgate. He had now, with Richard's agreement, given me a key to the flat. Richard was away again, so I let myself in and unpacked my suitcase. I checked in the fridge for what Reggie had bought for Saturday tea and found two pieces of steak and some vegetables, also a lemon meringue pie, so when I judged that the time was right, I set about preparing the meal. I just loved doing that. It made me feel like we were a married couple.

I had come down to London wearing trousers, but I changed into a pretty dress, stockings and heels for Reggie because I knew he loved that and I loved it too. I remembered seeing a nineteen fifties issue of 'National Geographic' once with an advertisement showing a pretty wife with perfect makeup and hair, wearing a dress with a flared skirt and an apron over it, and also wearing high heels. She had just taken a roast out of the oven as her husband entered the room after a hard day at the office (you knew that because he was wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase). She looked so glamorous and feminine, and you knew that he would be sweeping her into his arms for a kiss before dinner. It was a total fantasy of course but I've never forgotten it.

Reggie arrived back about six o'clock. His team had lost so he was a bit down in the dumps but he soon cheered up when he saw me, and smelled the tea I had been cooking. We shared a lingering kiss before he went to change out of his cricket gear.

The meal was a great success, and later after washing up, we cuddled up together on the sofa and watched television for a while before going to bed about nine o'clock. Early you say? Well I hardly think that needs a comment!

We slept in late and then had a leisurely breakfast, more of a 'brunch' in fact before Reggie took me to the station to catch the tube and head back to Stratford after another wonderful weekend.

Monday morning I was rehearsing again, and it wasn't until nearly twelve o'clock that I came off stage and found Mary sitting in the stalls with her suitcase.

“You are so good,” she said. “I don't know if I can approach that standard.”

“Nonsense,” I replied. “Anyway, everyone performs a role differently. Would you like to come to a cafe for lunch? You can store your suitcase in my dressing-room.”

At the cafe, we caught up with what had been happening in each other's lives.

“Are you still seeing Reggie?” she asked, and I couldn't help blushing, which made her giggle. “Silly question,” she said.

“That's one thing I forgot to mention. Reggie stays over at the flat sometimes. I hope that's not a problem?”

“Not if my boyfriend Alex staying over isn't,” she replied with a smile.

Soon it was time to go back to the theatre for the auditions. I had heard that there were two other candidates; one was Joanna, the poor girl who had been first on stage at the audition where Phoebe won the role, and had been quite overawed by playing opposite David Lodge. This time David's understudy, Guy Morrison was there, and she did a lot better. The next girl Susan Barber was new to me, and she was quite good. As usual, Tony thanked each person and said he would be in touch. Mary was last and I thought she was easily the best of the three. Not to put her off, I had told her I was leaving the auditorium but of course I sneaked in at the back of the stalls to see and hear how they all went.

When she had concluded the Hamlet scene, Tony asked her if there was another speech from Shakespeare that she could perform and she replied that she had played Viola in a school production of 'Twelfth Night'.

“Fine, please give us something from that,” said Tony, and Mary began.

It was a slightly ironic choice in my view because Viola cross-dresses as a boy and a woman falls in love with her.

'I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly....'

I was very impressed, thinking to myself ' Well, if for any reason I can't perform, she'll do a very good job'.

At the conclusion of her speech I slipped away and returned to my dressing room. When Mary arrived there a few minutes later, I looked up from the book I was 'reading' and said “How did it go?”

“Alright, I think,” she replied. “Tony said he'd let me know, but then he said that to the other two girls as well. Oh, he also asked us if we were given the role when we could start, and I was the only one who said 'tomorrow'.”

“Did he ask you for an extra speech?” I asked, and when she said that he did, I replied “Well I think that is a very good sign. My fingers are crossed for you.”

Just then there was a knock of the door and I was asked to return to the stage for another rehearsal. Mary said she'd rather stay in the dressing room until I was finished.

Later, we returned to the flat with some Chinese take-away and midway through eating it Mary's telephone rang and she went into her bedroom to take the call.

Three minutes later she came out again and from the look on her face I didn't need to ask her.

“I've got it!” she squealed, and I jumped up and gave her a hug,

“Oh Harriet, I don't know how I can thank you properly. This is so exciting. I must go and ring my Mum.”

When she later returned to her Chinese it was cold, but I don't think she even noticed. I felt great too. That lingering feeling that I owed her because of taking her role in 'Brutus' had finally been laid to rest.

On Wednesday I had a phone call from my new agent Richard Green confirming that we would be having dinner that evening.

“I've booked a table at the 'Oppo' for seven o'clock,” he said. That was nice. 'The Opposition' is one of Stratford's best restaurants, so I thought I had better dress accordingly. I had brought down my fuchsia 'tea-length' dress from Brid and decided that would be ideal. When I was ready and Mary saw how I looked she attempted a wolf whistle.

“I hope Reggie isn't the jealous type,” she said.

“Of course not. Anyway, I've told him about my dinner with Richard. It's just an actress meeting her agent. If he puts a foot out of line, that would be the end of it, and probably his business too.” I had a thought. “Just as a precaution though do you have a ring I could borrow that looks like an engagement ring?”

“Sure,” said Mary, and disappearing into her room, she returned with a beautiful amethyst ring. “This was my grandmother's engagement ring,” she said.

“Mary, it's beautiful but it also looks valuable. I'm afraid I might lose it,” I said.

“Of course you won't. Just leave it on your finger and it will be perfectly safe.”

I slipped it on the fourth finger of my left hand and admired it. “I do hope I get an engagement ring for real one day,” I said.

When I arrived at the restaurant, ten minutes early, Richard was already there, and he stood up to greet me. He was a man in his forties, quite handsome with greying hair, and wearing a wedding ring I was pleased to see.

After greetings and a compliment from Richard on how I looked (which of course is always acceptable when given in the right way), we turned our attention to the menu. Mindful of my figure as every woman must be, I decided on a Prawn Cocktail for a starter and Salmon Fishcake with Spinach, Poached Egg and Hollandaise Sauce as the main course, followed by Fresh Vanilla Crème Brulee. When compared to what I might have ordered in my former life this was indeed restraint exercised! Neither did I drink any wine, choosing mineral water instead, explaining to Richard that I had to rehearse again the next day and doing it with a headache was certainly not the best way.

He asked me how the production was going and I said I thought it was going quite well. We chatted easily and I mentioned that I was being a bridesmaid at my sister's wedding the following Saturday.

“I see you are engaged too,” he said, indicating the ring on my finger.

“Yes, Reggie and I have been engaged for about six months,” the lie came out quite easily and I'm pleased to say without a blush. “He's currently working in London but we see each other most weekends. I did warn him when he asked me to marry him that as an actress I was likely to be moving around the country a lot, but he said he was prepared to live with that.”

Talk then turned to my career. Richard was a little surprised that I was in Stratford with the RSC after what was really quite a short career.

“I've been extraordinarily lucky, and of course knowing Dame Emily helps. She's rather taken me under her wing.”

I went on to describe how I, together with my sister and mother had met Dame Emily on the London Underground, but I didn't mention how I had failed to recognise her!

I thanked him very much for taking me on as a client and also for negotiating a substantial improvement on my contract. Finally at the conclusion of our dinner, for which I also thanked him, he ordered me a taxi to take me back to the flat. Mary was still up when I arrived and I gave her a brief version of the evening's events before going to bed.

That night I was woken up about two o'clock by flashes of lightning and the distant growl of thunder. Then the rain started and the lightning became more frequent as did the volume of the thunder. Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light and a crash that seemed to come from directly overhead, My bedroom door flew open and Mary stood there shaking.

“Harriet,” she wailed. “I hate storms.”

“Come here,” I replied and pulled the bedclothes back. She didn't need asking twice and immediately got into bed with me and cuddled up. Her body was still shaking with every peal of thunder, but fortunately the storm gradually moved away, and we must both have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the sun was shining through the window. Mary was still fast asleep, so I slipped out of bed without waking her and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

A little later Mary appeared at the door.

“I'm so sorry about last night,” she said. “I've always hated storms ever since I was a little girl.”

“It's fine,” I replied. “We all have things we fear even if it's irrational. If I ever see a spider in my room it will be me wanting to climb into bed with you.”

When I thought about it afterwards, I realised that girls can do things like that without there being any sexual connotations about their actions.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 34    The Wedding – Part 1

While Mary and I were having breakfast she said “Are you and Reggie going up to Brid by train for the wedding?”

“Yes, Reggie will meet me at Stratford Station and we'll go together from there,” I replied.

“Well I've had an idea. I need to go home this weekend to get more clothes, now that I'm staying here. How about Reggie comes to Stratford by train and then the three of us drive up to Brid in my car? Reggie can help with the driving.”

To be honest, I had been looking forward to some precious hours alone with Reggie, but it seemed churlish to refuse, so I said I would ring him right away with the idea.

I make the call in my room, out of earshot, and told Reggie of Mary's suggestion.

“How do you feel about that?” he said.

“Well it's very kind of her,” I replied.

Reggie laughed. “I know exactly what you're thinking but we can't really say 'no' can we?”

“I guess not. I'll see you on Friday then about four. We'll meet you at the station. Love you Reggie.”

“Love you Harriet, bye.”

Friday arrived and I must confess I was feeling quite excited. This was to be my first and perhaps only time as a bridesmaid. Even seven year-old Penny had more experience than me. Fortunately the Hamlet rehearsal sessions were not too onerous, and Tony, knowing about the wedding, kindly arranged for Mary and I to finish our rehearsals by three o'clock. We had brought our suitcases to the theatre and Mary had parked the car outside, so we could go straight to the railway station and pick up Reggie. He had managed to leave earlier than expected and arrived to meet us at three-thirty.

Mary drove for the first hour and then Reggie took over. I was determined to get my driving lessons soon and I hadn't given up on the idea of getting a small car for myself. We all chatted away and it was a very pleasant trip. Reggie had hired a dinner suit in London, and I was looking forward to seeing him wear it.

After driving for three hours we pulled off the highway and entered a little village where we could buy a decent pub meal before continuing our journey. It was about eight o'clock when we entered Bridchester. Reggie was dropped off at his parents' house first and then Mary dropped me off before going on to stay with her parents and do some serious clothes sorting and packing.

Mum and Emma greeted me with enthusiastic hugs. I dragged my suitcase up to my room and then came down for a cup of tea and a biscuit. It seemed that everything was organised and ready to go the next day. There had been a wedding rehearsal at the church which I'd had to miss of course, but Emma ran through it with me and it didn't sound nearly as complicated as a stage performance. That done, we all decided that an early night was in order.

The next morning we were 'up betimes' as Samuel Pepys would say. The wedding ceremony wasn't until two o'clock, but there was plenty to do first. We had a light breakfast and then took it in turns to use the bathroom to shower, Mum first, then me and finally Emma.

Emma had showed off her wedding lingerie to Mum and me the previous night. It was white of course and very pretty, but I have to say that the lingerie I had brought to wear came a close second. Sadly no-one (by which I mean Reggie) was going to see it, but I knew that it would make me feel wonderful. I was going to wear stockings rather than tights as I always do on a special occasion, so I wore a full set of satin and lace panties, suspender belt and bra, and of course a gorgeous white silk full slip with beautiful French lace on the bust and hem. Yes it was a present to myself but every girl needs a little spoiling now and again.

I put on a robe ready for the hairdresser and makeup lady. Just then the door bell rang and David's sister Susan arrived with his daughter Penny. She looked very excited.

Emma came down the stairs to greet them.

“Hello Susan, hello Penny, you're right on time, the hairdresser has just arrived.”

Susan went into the kitchen where she was to prepare a light lunch for us while the hairdresser set about making our hair look amazing. Not long after the makeup artiste arrived too and to my surprise it was Georgie who worked for the Apollo Players.

“Harriet!” she exclaimed. “You look amazing. I hear you are working in Stratford now, congratulations.”

“Thanks Georgie, I've been very lucky.”

“Well in my experience you make your own luck in this world,” she replied.

She first set to work on Mum and then Penny. It was the first time Penny had worn makeup so for her that was exciting in itself. I was next on the list, so went back to my bedroom. To my surprise there was a card and a small packet sitting on my dressing table. I opened the card which had a picture of lovely white roses on the front, and inside it said

” Dear Harriet, Thank you so much for being our chief bridesmaid and helping to make our day perfect. Love from Emma and David.”

I turned to the package and opened it. Inside was a set of the most beautiful earings which looked like a number of leaves in tiny white and blue stones. They were just perfect to wear on this day. I confess they looked so lovely they brought tears to my eyes.

Just then Georgie came. “Oh no, you're not crying I hope. It's a good thing I intended to use water-proof mascara anyway; weddings can be such emotional times.”

When I showed her the cause of my tears, she was very impressed. “They're lovely Harriet, and you must wear them today.”

By now I reckoned that I knew a thing or two about makeup but I still learned a few tips from Georgie. Apparently this was a sideline for her in addition to her work at Apollo. Then she offered to help me put on my dress and I was grateful for that, not wanting to spoil my hair or makeup.

When I took off my robe she gasped and said “What a pretty slip Harriet! I was going to suggest you wear one under your gown, but you're a step ahead of me.”

I smiled at her. “I've still got a lot to learn about being a girl, but it's an interesting journey.”

“I'd almost forgotten,” she laughed. “No-one looking at you wouldn't think you are the complete girl.”

She helped me put on my dress with the ease of a person with long experience. I put on my heels and said “How do I look?”

“Have you got a full-length mirror?” she asked and I told her there was one on the inside of the wardrobe door, so she led me to it without speaking. Was that really me in the mirror? Silly question I know, but it was hard to believe.

“Do you know the first rule of being a bridesmaid?” she asked, and then answered her own question. “Don't outshine the bride.”

“There's no way I'll do that,” I said. “Emma is a beautiful young woman and on her wedding day she'll be the star, nothing surer, but thanks for the compliment.”

“Alright, but you'll be a close second,” said Georgie. She's good at boosting a girl's confidence, a useful attribute when working in the theatre.

“Speaking of the bride I'd better go and see her or she'll be stressing,” said Georgie, and gathering up her 'tools of the trade', she went to Emma's bedroom.

Mum had finished getting ready, and came into my bedroom to see how I was getting on.

“Harriet,” she said and there was a tear in her eye. “I can't believe how I've got two such beautiful daughters.”

“Oh Mum,” I replied. “I'd give you a hug but we're all afraid of messing up our makeup.” We both laughed.

Ten minutes later I went to Emma's bedroom to see how things were going. I knocked on the door and there was no answer so I opened it. Georgie had left and for a few minutes Emma was on her own. I saw she was wearing her beautiful silk slip and sitting in front of her dressing table, gazing pensively into the mirror.

“Sorry Em, I'm intruding,” I said and started to back out of the room but she motioned me to come in.

“So how are you feeling?” I said.

“Thrilled, excited, scared,” she replied. “It almost seems like a dream. I'm actually getting married!”

“You're not having second thoughts?” I asked.

“Goodness, no. It's the best thing I've ever done,” she smiled.

“I took her hand. “I'm so glad for you Emma, I really am.”

She looked up at me and smiled “Maybe it'll be your turn one day.”

I blushed. “Maybe,” I replied. “I'm wearing the earings you and David gave me. Thank you very much, they're so lovely.”

Emma smiled, “I'm so glad you like them.”

Then changing the subject I asked “How many people did you invite in the end?”

“It ended up nearly fifty,” she said. “It's a good thing we got the Women's Institute ladies to cater for the reception.”

“Fifty? I thought you were going to have twenty.”

“Well yes, but we had to invite all the Apollo crew, we couldn't leave some out, and then there were some old school friends and David's close relatives. It's amazing how the numbers mount up.”

“I'll bear that in mind if I ever get married,” I said, and we both laughed.

“Look at you,” she said “You are such a beautiful girl.”

“Thanks Em, that means so much to me,” I said softly. “And look at you, the most beautiful bride I've ever seen.”

She laughed. “Well we are a mutual admiration society! Anyway, I think it's time to get the show on the road. Is someone coming to help me put on my dress?”

At that moment Susan appeared at the door with Penny who was now wearing her dress with white socks and new shoes. She looked so pretty and when we told her so she beamed with pleasure. Georgie was so experienced with makeup that she'd put just enough on Penny's face to make her feel special without taking away any of her natural look. Penny could scarcely contain her excitement, so I took her downstairs, just as Mum arrived to assist Susan in helping Emma put on her dress.

It all sounds rather complicated but everything was running as smooth as clockwork, and just as well, since as Emma appeared at the head of the stairs looking radiant the doorbell rang again and in quick succession the bouquets arrived, then the photographer, whom I recognised as the guy who took pictures of the Apollo productions, and finally Reggie.

Reggie was wearing his hired dinner suit and looked so handsome that my heart skipped a beat. I cannot deny that his reaction at the sight of me was most gratifying. He seemed a bit tongue-tied before he finally came out with “Harriet, you look amazing.” Two 'amazings' in one day wasn't bad.

“And you look so incredibly handsome Reggie,” I replied causing him to redden slightly.

We exchanged a kiss, being careful not to smudge my makeup, and might have prolonged it if Susan hadn't said “OK, you two lovebirds, we've got photos to take here. Save that until later.”

“Just a moment,” I said and picked up the buttonhole flower, a white carnation, to fix in Reggie's lapel. Then I picked up my bouquet and we were ready.

We put ourselves into the hands of the photographer then and numerous photos in every combination of groups were taken as well as individual shots of everyone, both in the house and also in the back garden which I'm sure Mum had been working on for weeks to provide the perfect background.

Bridesmaids don't carry handbags, so I gave Mum a small bag with basic makeup and a spare pair of stockings for me, and she put it in her handbag since she was the only one in the wedding party carrying one.

Time absolutely flies when you are getting ready for a wedding, it's like the first night of a new show. Someone said “The cars are here”, and looking out of the window I saw two white Jaguars, complete with white ribbons were drawn up outside. Despite the fact that the chauffeurs were wearing grey suits and peak caps, I recognised two of the men who acted with Apollo. Apparently the use of the cars was a wedding gift from one of them who was an avid Jaguar collector. I knew that Emma and David didn't have too much money to spare and it seemed that everyone was pitching in to make it the perfect day for them.

I sat in the front seat of the first car, with Mum, Penny and Susan in the back, and Emma sat with Reggie who was giving her away in place of Dad, in the second car. It is of course tradition that a bride is a few minutes late and the drivers had it timed to perfection as we pulled up outside St John's at five minutes past two. There were more photos as we alighted from the cars and then we walked up the pathway to the door of the church. Inside we could hear the organ playing softly.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

---

Chapter 35   The Wedding – Part 2

The verger was waiting for us at the church door. Mum slipped inside to take up her position in the front pew, and the bridal party was organised in order of walking down the aisle, first Penny, then me, and then Emma on Reggie's arm. All being ready, the verger pressed a button which gave a signal to the organist who immediately launched into the traditional Wagner's 'Bridal Chorus'. It was at that moment that the only hiccup of the day occurred. Penny looked down the long central aisle with people on either side and suddenly took fright.

“Harriet, I'm scared,” she squeaked.

Thank goodness for theatrical training, I didn't panic.

“How about we go down together holding hands?” I suggested. Her little hand immediately grasped mine tightly, and so that's how we slowly walked down the aisle, followed by Emma and Reggie. As we approached the sanctuary, David and his brother turned to watch us. The look on his face when he saw Emma was something to behold. Reggie passed Emma's hand into David's and then stood to one side. Penny stood next to me, still holding my hand, although she seemed a little calmer now judging by the fact that I could no longer feel her shaking.

The minister walked to the centre of the sanctuary directly in front of Emma and David, welcomed everyone and then said “Who brings this woman to be married to this man?'

Reggie in a firm voice said “I do', and then retired to his seat in the front pew. Maybe you can guess what I was thinking when I heard him utter those words.

The service was a traditional Anglican one with some hymns, prayers, the vows, and a short homily and went without a hitch. I had been asked to do the reading and naturally had practiced it during the preceding weeks. After discussion with Emma and David, we selected the traditional St Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians, Chapter Thirteen in the King James Version, which along with Shakespeare rates as some of the most wonderful poetry in the English language. There are so many modern English versions that we discounted, this is the Bible reading as it was meant to be heard. The only thing we changed was the word 'love' where the original uses 'charity', but the meaning is the same.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.
Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

There was total silence in the church when I finished. As an actress I half expected applause, but this was not the time nor the place.

It is a fairly long extract, and I had it in front of me but knew it by heart of course, so I had no need to refer to the text. With my stage experience, speaking to fifty or so people was not a problem and while some people might say I presented it like a performance as an actor might, well if an actor cannot convey sincerity in her words then she is not doing a very good job. All I can say is that I noticed a few of the older women in the congregation dab at their eyes as I spoke the beautiful words, so I think I did them justice. Certainly the minister thanked me for the reading and sounded as if he meant it, and a few people complimented me later, although I fear mentioning that sounds like boasting.

Emma and David exchanged rings as is the custom nowadays, and the vows concluded with the announcement that they were now husband and wife, and they exchanged the traditional kiss. The wedding party then moved to the side where a table was set up with a white lace cloth, bearing the register and marriage certificate, and these were signed and witnessed. I wasn't a witness since my name was not yet officially Harriet and that might cause problems. Bridesmaids are not always witnesses, so I'm sure no-one thought anything of it.

Finally we resumed our positions and the minister led the congregation in the Lord's Prayer and then said he would like to introduce Mr and Mrs David and Emma Soames, and of course everyone clapped. They walked down the aisle to the strains of Mendelssohn's 'Wedding March', with the rest of the wedding party following.

Outside there were more photos and of course confetti, which some churches frown upon because of the need to clean it up, but fortunately St John's wasn't one of them.

When all that was done, we walked into the church hall which had been beautifully decorated by the ladies of the Women's Institute. All the guests had taken their places while we were having yet more photos taken and Duncan who was acting as Master of Ceremonies asked everyone to be upstanding. First to enter to continuous applause was Mum, accompanied by Reggie standing in for Dad, then David's parents, Peggy and me, the Best Man and groomsman and finally they were asked to greet Mr and Mrs Soames which they did with much cheering and clapping. We in the wedding party took our seats at the head table on a dais at the end of the hall. Emma sat on David's left and I sat on his right with Penny next to me. The Best Man, David's brother Michael, sat to the left of Emma and the groomsman, Geoff, David's brother-in-law sat next to him. The parents and Reggie were seated at the table immediately in front of us, together with David's sister Susan. The rest of the tables were arranged around the hall, allowing a central space as a dance floor.

As M.C., Duncan took over and started proceedings. He introduced David's parents, Stan and Sylvia Soames, a handsome couple in their late fifties I think. Stan stood up and welcomed everyone to the reception and said what a pleasure it was to welcome Emma into their family. He made a little joke about how smart she had been in choosing David since although she was changing her surname from Stow to Soames, her initials would remain the same. Even the weakest of jokes seems to get a good reception at a wedding!

The first course was served, then the main course and after that came the toasts and speeches. Since that time I've been to a number of weddings. Public speaking for some people is one of the worst and most frightening things they are ever called upon to do, but at this wedding everyone seemed very relaxed and handled the occasion well. David's brother proposed a toast to the 'beautiful bridesmaids', and David made the speech starting with the traditional 'On behalf of my wife and myself' which always gets a cheer. He spoke well, thanking everyone for coming and commenting that this was the coming together of two theatrical families and how he would always be grateful to the Apollo Players for being the means by which he met Emma.

In a break with tradition, Emma also rose to her feet and spoke briefly, saying how grateful she was to the Apollo Players too. She thanked the ladies of the Women's Institute for organising such a wonderful reception at short notice, and all the guests for coming.

“It's no secret, nor should it be, that David and I are expecting an addition to our family, and that makes it an even more joyous occasion for us,” she said to great applause. “In due course I hope to see many of you here at a christening.”

Thank goodness times have changed. It's not many years since no-one would have dreamed of making such a statement at a wedding. Everyone knew it was a love match, and the baby was just a surprise bonus.

After the speeches it was time for cutting the wedding cake, again a 'tour-de-force' by one of the W.I. ladies, and then came the bridal waltz. A local quartet consisting of piano, saxophone, bass guitar and drums, was set up in the corner of the room and began to play. After Emma and David had circled the hall twice, it was the turn of the other members of the wedding party to join in. As my 'official partner', David's brother Michael invited me to dance, and at the same time Reggie invited Mum to take a turn around the floor.

As often happens, Mum sat down after a couple of circuits, Michael's wife took over from me, and Reggie took me in his arms for the rest of the bracket of waltzes. I confess I had been looking forward to this moment all day. Reggie had been in view a lot of the time of course, but tantalizingly out of reach. It was so wonderful to be in his arms again; every time we were apart I missed him so much. We had a number of dances during the evening, and now that the formal part of the reception was finished, the wedding party started to sit with other guests rather than isolate themselves on the bridal table. Emma and David made a point of going around all the tables and chatting with their guests.

You may wonder if out of all these people there were some who knew that Emma originally had a brother. The majority who knew were of course in the Apollo Players, and if there were any others, they kept it to themselves. I certainly didn't see any whispering which might have indicated people were discussing the origins of Emma's sister.

The minister, Rev James Sutton, who had officiated at the wedding was one of the wedding guests as is a tradition, and at one point in the reception he came up, obviously intending to speak to me. I took the initiative and said “Good afternoon vicar, that was a lovely service you conducted today.”

“Thank you, I've been meaning to speak to you, young lady,” he responded. “I've heard Corinthians Thirteen read more times than I've had hot dinners, but never so well as you read it today. Indeed, if I am correct, you had actually memorised it. I wondered about that until someone told me that like your sister you are a professional actress.”

I confess to blushing (yet again) at his remarks. “Yes I am vicar. I suppose that's an advantage when speaking to a number of people.”

“Yes indeed, and it brought to mind something with which you might be able to help me. Some of my parishioners are quite elderly and with failing eyesight. I've been asked if there are any recordings of biblical passages which they could listen to rather than try to read. I've found a few but they're rather expensive to buy, and none seem to be in the King James version which they really prefer. I was going to attempt some recordings myself, but after hearing you this afternoon, I was wondering if you might be able to help me by recording some passages, err, in your spare time of course?”

This was the vicar of the church my mother attended, how could I possibly refuse?

“Of course vicar, it will be a pleasure,” was my only possible response.

“Oh that's wonderful,” he replied. “I've got a little cassette recorder which I could loan you, also a Bible of course, and a list of the passages to record. There's just one more thing (I knew exactly what was coming of course) I'm not able to pay you very much.”

“I couldn't possibly accept payment vicar, but I can only do the recordings with one stipulation; I must be anonymous. My agent expects ten percent of all the money I earn, and it would be better if he didn't know I'm doing something 'pro bono'.”

“Of course,” he replied. “You have my word. I'll give the recorder, Bible and list to your mother at church tomorrow if that's alright?”

I thought that Mum might have wanted to give church a miss the following day while she recovered from the exertions of the wedding day, but I couldn't very well say so.

“Of course. I do have to leave for Stratford in the early afternoon.”

“Stratford!” he exclaimed. “Nobody told me you were performing at Stratford!”

“Yes, it's a season of Hamlet and I'm playing Ophelia,” I replied. I know pride is one of the seven deadly sins, but I hope I might be forgiven on this occasion.

“No wonder you were so good,” he said, and I restricted myself to a smile in answer to his comment. Fortunately Reggie came up at that moment to rescue me.

“Excuse me vicar, Harriet's mother wants a word with her.”

“Of course,” he replied. “And thank you so much Miss Stow. I'll be in touch.”

When we were out of earshot I asked Reggie what Mum wanted.

“Nothing actually, but I could see you were trapped and couldn't find a way out, so I rescued you.”

I laughed. “You really are my knight in shining armour. Well I'd better go and talk to Mum in case the vicar is watching.”

“What did he want anyway?” said Reggie.

“In a word, a 'freebie',” I laughed and told him all about it.

“Vicars are well-practised in getting something for nothing,” was his response. “I think they're taught that at 'vicar school'.”

When I told Mum about my exchange with the vicar and how he was going to give her the equipment next day, she sighed. “Well I was thinking of giving tomorrow a miss,” she said. “But I guess I'll have to go now.”

“Would you like me to go instead?”

“Thank you dear, but no, I'd better go. I can always put my feet up when you've all left the house in the afternoon.”

At the end of the reception we all gathered outside to see Emma and David driven off in one of the Jaguars, now with tin cans on string attached to the back bumper bar, and a hand-written sign saying “Just Married”. They were staying at a local hotel for the night, but I knew I would see them the next morning before they went off on a week-long honeymoon. Emma had confided in me that it was a bit of a 'busman's holiday'. They were going to London for the week and intended to catch up on as many shows as possible. I think I've explained before that theatre professionals often don't get to see other shows because they are busy when the other shows are being performed.

The following morning when Mum was at church, Emma and David called around before setting off for London. I was doing washing up, a far cry from the glamorous creature I presented as the following day I fear. I gave them both a hug and thanked them again for the present of the earrings.

“I'm going to wear them on special occasions,” I said.

“Well I hope there are plenty of those, now your career is really taking off,” replied Emma.

“What plays are you going to see in London?” I asked.

“Ah, that's still a secret from Emma,” replied David. “The only one she knows about is 'The Mousetrap', because when she found out that I'd never seen it, she insisted that we go.”

“Well I'm one up on you there, but don't worry, I won't tell you the ending,” I laughed. “Actually, what you're doing is a great idea. There's so many shows I'd like to see but haven't because I was working.”

Just then the doorbell rang and it was Reggie.

“Your Mum invited me to come round and have lunch with you before Mary arrives with the car,” he said.

“I'll just pick up our cases and then we'll be off,” said David. He and Reggie shook hands, and I hugged Emma and David as they walked down to the car which they had parked in the garage at our house so that it wouldn't get 'vandalised' by the wedding party. We waved them off and then walked back in the house. For the first time in days we were alone and naturally enough we didn't lose the opportunity to share a long kiss.

“So much was happening yesterday that I didn't get a moment to properly tell you how lovely you looked,” said Reggie.

“Oh Reggie, and I was wanting to tell you how handsome you looked. I can't wait to see the picture of the two of us that the official photographer took. I'm going to get an enlargement and put it in a frame.”

“I want a portrait one of you too. I'll get a big print to frame and a copy for my wallet so that I can carry you with me wherever I go.”

What could I say in response to that? There was only one thing to do and that was kiss him again.

“I'm making lunch now for when Mum comes back from church. Mary said she will have lunch with her parents and arrive here about two o'clock.”

When Mum arrived she was carrying a plastic bag with her.

“Here's the things the vicar gave me for you,” she said.

I laid them out on the table, the recorder, the Bible and a list of chapters to record. I must say I looked at the recorder with dismay. It was very small, had a built-in microphone, and looked like it had had a hard life.

“I don't think this will do at all,” I said. “If I'm going to do these recordings I want to do them properly. I think I'll show this to the sound guys at the theatre and see if they can suggest something better and hopefully not too expensive.”

Reggie, Mum and I enjoyed our lunch. I had made a chicken pie which we had with peas, carrots and potatoes and it was very well received. We were all quite hungry, and there's nothing like a home-cooked meal.

“You are becoming quite the gourmet cook darling,” said Mum.

Reggie said “Hear,hear.”

Dessert was tinned peaches and icecream, mainly because I didn't have time to make anything else, being still a bit slow in the kitchen, but it was a nice end to the meal.

We hadn't long finished when there was a knock on the door and it was Mary coming to pick us up. We had a non-eventful drive back to Stratford, Mary and Reggie taking turns to drive. I thought to myself that that was definitely the way to do a long drive. As soon as I had settled into the role of Ophelia I was determined to start on driving lessons.

We dropped Reggie off at Stratford Station. Mary stayed in the car while I accompanied him to the platform for a farewell kiss, and then we drove back to the flat. It had been quite an exhausting weekend, so after a 'cuppa' and a biscuit, I was off to bed.

To be continued

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

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.

---

I thought I was getting a new job, but it turned out to be a whole new life

Chapter 37   Epilogue

Eventually, after numerous curtain calls, the curtain came down for the final time as the house lights were fully raised. After mutual hugs, we all walked to our dressing rooms, and a short time later, Mum and Emma knocked on the door and came in to congratulate me. They stayed while I changed out of my costume and into a dress, and told me that they had booked a table for supper at one of the local restaurants that stays open late for the post performance crowd.

Reggie and David were waiting for us in the corridor and offered their congratulations as soon as I appeared. At that moment, Dame Emily walked down the corridor and stopped to greet my family and tell them that I was developing into an excellent actress. It was the first time Reggie and David had met her and they were over-awed to say the least, but she is such a nice person she quickly puts everyone at ease.

At the restaurant I asked how they were able to get such good seats in a sold-out house. It turned out it was all due to Phoebe. She had bought the four seats so that her family could see her play Shakespeare for the first time, and when she pulled out of the play, instead of returning the tickets to the box office where they would have been snapped up, she found out Mum's phone number (probably from my mobile phone) and rang to offer them to her. Mum of course was very grateful to accept them. When she asked Phoebe how much she was owed, Phoebe wouldn't take any money for them, saying I had helped her prepare for the role and never shown any sign of jealousy that I was her understudy, so this was her way of saying 'thanks'. Nevertheless, I did of course ring her as soon as I could and thanked her myself, saying that it had really made my day to see my family there.

We had a very enjoyable supper. Several people recognized me from the performance they had just attended and bringing their programs over, requested an autograph which of course I was happy to provide. As a cast member, along with all the others, my picture appeared in the program, together with a brief review of my career so far, which I confess seemed rather padded out since there wasn't a lot to say. It was well past midnight when we finally left. The family and Reggie were all staying at the same hotel, Mum and Emma sharing one room and Reggie and David another, which saved money as rooms were quite expensive and hard to come by that weekend. I would have been happy if Reggie had stayed with me of course, but it seemed diplomatic to play things as they did.

The following day, Sunday, was my nineteenth birthday. I had given it very little thought, being so tied up with preparing for the play, but Mum hadn't forgotten of course and had suggested that we all meet for lunch before going our separate ways.

Early the next morning she rang to say she had booked a table for us at the famous 'Lambs of Sheep Street' Restaurant. Being a warm sunny day I was able to wear one of my pretty summer dresses and sandals, and as actors tend to do after a first performance, I went to the nearest shop that sold newspapers and bought them all so that I could check out the reviews of Hamlet.

I opened the first of them and as expected, much of the review was devoted to David's and Dame Emily's wonderful performances.

However I was pleased to read: “A new face at the ISC, Harriet Stow gave an excellent reading of Ophelia and was particularly impressive during the final scenes of madness which evoked much sympathy from the capacity audience judging by their reaction.”

I certainly could not be disappointed by that review, and the others which were along the same lines.

Lambs Restaurant occupies a very old building with lovely ambience. I met the rest of the group there at twelve o'clock and I must say we had a great meal, reasonably priced and with excellent service. Everyone had read the reviews and congratulated me on them. After the main course, as a surprise, instead of a sweet, one of the staff brought out a birthday cake with nineteen candles and many of the other diners joined in the singing of 'Happy Birthday' to me. As you might expect I felt quite overwhelmed.

Mum and Emma produced a small parcel which was my present from them and suggested I might like to open it later as it contained 'girly things'. When I did get to open it I found a lovely lingerie set including a full slip, all in the palest pink. Reggie whispered to me that he also had a present for me which he would give me later.

Time flew by as it always does when you are enjoying yourself, and all too soon it was time to walk to the railway station and wave farewell to Mum, Emma and David as they took the train north for Bridchester. When the train had disappeared I asked Reggie which platform his train to London departed from.

“Well, this is what I wanted to tell you after your family had gone,” he said. “I don't actually have to go back to work until Tuesday, so unless you have something else planned I thought maybe I could stay with you tonight?”

“Oh Reggie,” I gasped. “This is turning into a perfect birthday.”

We walked back to my apartment. Mary had driven back to Brid, presumably to bring yet more clothes back to Stratford, so we had the place to ourselves. I blush as I recall it, but we had been weeks without any chance at intimacy, so it was hardly surprising that we were not long out of the bedroom.

Late in the afternoon we got up, showered and dressed and went out for tea. It was then that Reggie presented his gift to me. It was housed in a small cubic box, and upon opening it I discovered a beautiful gold ring with an emerald of the deepest green colour, surrounded by tiny diamonds.

“Oh Reggie, it's beautiful,” I said, close to tears.

“I know it's too early to talk about engagement,” he said. “So this is a friendship ring to tell you that I love you and always will. I hope you will wear it and think of me.”

“Please put it on my hand,” I whispered stretching out my right hand. He slipped it on my fourth finger and it was a perfect fit. “Thank you so much Reggie, I will cherish it always.”

We spend a quiet evening in front of the television, and it was not late when we retired to bed once more.

Some hours later, curled up in bed with Reggie, his arm protectively lying across my body, I listened in the darkness to his deep regular breathing as he slept soundly beside me. I was still too excited by the day's events to sleep. What a year it had been. On my eighteenth birthday I had been an unhappy youth, not knowing what the future held or what I wanted to do with it. Now, just a brief year later, I was well on the way to establishing my name as an actress, and I was in love with a wonderful young man.

I thought back to that first night I had performed as a professional, and those final few moments on the darkening stage as I cried out in anguish “I don't want to be a 'might-have-been'.” That could so easily have summed up the story of my life, but it didn't. Now, most important of all I was at the start of becoming fully the young woman I was always intended to be. No 'might-have-been', to all the people who knew and loved me I was a female and would be to the end of my days. I sighed with pleasure and slowly drifted off to sleep.

The curtain descends – END OF ACT ONE

Author's notes:

As I have mentioned at the conclusion of each chapter, I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Louise Anne in proofreading the text, pointing out my 'typos' and giving me a great deal of useful advice about modern-day Britain to incorporate in the story. Without her help I would certainly have made many errors, since things have changed so much since I left there, more years ago than I care to remember.

Thank you to all my readers, and especially to those who took the time to vote and make comments on the story. Some suggested that Harriet seemed to be having a dream run in her nineteenth year and I would have to agree with them, but sometimes that's what happens.

Regular readers know by now my weakness for quoting other authors, so here is a final one.

“Now this is not the end, it is not even the beginning of the end, but it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

Winston Churchill.

I don't know if other authors feel the same way, but having written about my heroine Harriet for more than half a year, I felt a certain reluctance to say 'goodbye' to her, so I have already made a start on a sequel which I have titled “All the World's a Stage”. However, please don't necessarily expect Harriet's 'dream run' to continue. As someone (John Lennon? Allen Saunders?) once said 'Life is what happens while we are making other plans' and while Harriet is obviously making plans at the conclusion of this story, maybe things will not work out quite as she expected.
With that teaser I will say 'au revoir'.

---

A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl'

Curtain up – Prologue:

'….Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.'    'Henry V' William Shakespeare

My name is Harriet. It's an uncommon name but in my profession that's not a bad thing. People remember it. At the start of my nineteen year, I was a youth, drifting through life, with few talents other than a prodigious memory for which I can claim no credit; no ambition, and no real idea where life was going to take me. By the end of that year, I was a professional actress of moderate ability, who, largely through a series of fortunate circumstances, found herself on one of the most famous stages in Britain, performing alongside the 'royalty' of the English stage.

I recorded all this in my memoir, which I titled with a touch of irony “The Might-Have-Been Girl” and I humbly recommend the story of that momentous year as a prologue, to those who would more fully understand the story that follows --

Chapter 1   The best of times

' All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And woman in her time plays many parts,'    'As You Like It' William Shakespeare (with apologies for the slight amendment)

It was mid 2001, and I could hardly believe my life now. I had a loving boyfriend who accepted me for the young woman I had become, the unequivocal support of my family, and what's more, I was performing on one of England's most famous stages in the company of a Dame, a Knight, and a charismatic leading man who was already famous for his work on stage and screen. Life could hardly get better at this point in my life. Of course I daydreamed of what I wished the future might bring, but at that moment I couldn't ask for more.
'Hamlet' was playing to packed houses. My own part, Ophelia, was a minor one, but I like to think I made a contribution to the whole. The season was extended by three weeks, and then a further two, and I confess that the effect on me was unforeseen. At the end of the second week, Tony, the Director drew me aside for a word at one of our regular cast meetings.

“This isn't a criticism Harriet, you are performing very well, but I get the sense that towards the end of each week you are tiring. That's not surprising as it's a very intense part, and certainly not easy to perform twice in one day. What I am proposing is that we let Mary, your understudy, play Ophelia during the Wednesday and Saturday matinees. What do you think of that?”

Quite frankly his words were music to my ears. “I think that is a very good idea Tony. Mary performs very well and it would be great to give her some experience with the rest of the cast,” I responded. So near the start of my career I didn't want to admit to lacking stamina, but the fact is that I had found it necessary to stifle a yawn during one performance and it certainly wasn't through boredom. Life was becoming 'eat, sleep, perform, eat, sleep, perform', and much though I loved what I was doing, I knew I was becoming sleep-deprived, and it wasn't doing me any good.

“Excellent!” was Tony's response. “I'll tell her that she's doing the matinees from Wednesday onwards, although I would like you to be available of course if for any reason she can't perform.”

As I expected, Mary was thrilled and excited to have this chance, and when Wednesday came and I arrived in my dressing room for the evening performance, I found her there, reading a book, I think it was “The Art of Acting” by Stella Adler, and back in her position as my understudy.

“How did it go, Mary?” I asked.

“Wonderful, but boy, am I pooped!” she responded. “I don't know how you've been managing all those performances, especially two in a day. I've just done one and I'm exhausted.”

“You have to pace yourself,” I responded. “I'm sure Adler has something to say about that.”

When I went on stage that evening, I could feel the difference in myself. I felt fresh and energetic through not having already played the role once that day.

Sundays were my only day off, and it was soon time to visit my specialist Dr Helen McLeish in London. As mentioned in my previous memoir, once a month Dr McLeish held a special clinic on Sundays for those of her patients who found it impossible to see her during normal clinic hours. I was looking forward to my trip, because not only would I be seeing her, but I would also be spending the rest of the day and the night with Reggie.

I took the train to Marylebone Station and walked the short distance to Harley Street. Reggie was to meet me at the clinic but he wasn't there when I arrived. I announced myself to the receptionist and sat down in the waiting room with an old copy of Vogue for company. The previous patient came out of the consulting room and she looked vaguely familiar. She gave me a half-smile as though she thought she knew me too but wasn't quite sure. Whether we recognised each other or not was of no consequence since it was in all our interests to keep confidential any information we learned at the clinic. Two minutes later, Dr McLeish stepped into the waiting room and beckoned me to follow her.

“Well now Harriet, it's been a month since you started on hormones. Are you noticing any changes?”

“Yes doctor. I'm sure my breasts are starting to develop. They seem to be more sensitive, my nipples especially. I didn't wear my breast forms today to give my skin a rest, so do you wish to take a look?”

“Yes please Harriet,” she responded, so I unbuttoned my blouse and slipped down my camisole and bra. I had filled the cups with breast enhancers to keep a female silhouette, and expected to keep adjusting things until my breasts grew bigger and I would no longer be using the attachable breast forms.

Dr McLeish had slipped on an examination glove, and lightly felt around my breast area.

“Yes, there are definite signs of growth,” she responded. “That's excellent after only one month on hormones. I will have to check your hormone levels again to see if they need adjusting, and while you are here I should check your pulse and blood pressure too.”

Both pulse and blood pressure turned out completely normal, proving that I was now much more relaxed in her company.

“The local pathology collection service is shut today of course, so I will take your blood sample myself and send it on to them tomorrow.” She waited until I had readjusted my clothing and then put a tourniquet around my arm, produced a needle and syringe and took sufficient blood to fill two tubes.

“I'm going to check your haemoglobin as well,” she said. “You look a trifle pale to me and you may need to go on iron tablets. I know you don't menstruate but perhaps your diet is lacking in iron, particularly with your busy lifestyle. What do you think?”

“Yes, I may not have been eating enough vegetables and meat,” I said. “Sometimes it's tempting to just grab a sandwich when time is short.”

“Well, apart from that, everything seems to be going fine. I'll ring you if the hormone dose needs adjusting or you need the iron supplement, and otherwise I'll see you again in a month.”

When I walked back to the waiting room, Reggie was there waiting for me and we exchanged a smile. I paid my account, confirmed the date of my next appointment and we left the building hand in hand, pausing for a brief kiss on the steps.

“How did it go?” asked Reggie.

“Really well. She's pleased with my progress. She's checking my hormone levels but if they are alright, I'll just see her again next month.”

“Good, so what would you like to do now?” said Reggie.

“Can we have something to eat? I'm starving,” I replied. “And then, can we go shopping for a while?”

What other man would say 'yes' to that and sound like he meant it? But then Reggie is no ordinary man. We walked down to Oxford Street, and after finding a cafe in one of the larger stores, he indulged me by letting me wander around the clothing and shoe stores for a couple of hours. I was determined not to buy anything, since I was saving up to have driving lessons and buy my first car. However, I'm a woman, so when I saw a very pretty summer dress that had been marked down, and that I knew would really suit me, what's a girl to do?

We noticed that the weather was clouding over, so decided to head back to Southgate. I know that women who perform on-stage have a reputation for bringing half their wardrobe with them, but I had brought just a small overnight suitcase with a change of clothing, a pair of shoes and my makeup. We walked to the nearest tube station and took the train to Southgate.

Richard, Reggie's flatmate was away again. I sometimes wondered why he even shared a flat as he seemed to spend most of his free time at his girlfriend's apartment. Perhaps he was just one of those people who needs to have a place of his own, or maybe he wasn't ready to commit yet and needed a retreat. Reggie cooked risotto for tea and we spent the evening cuddled up on the couch watching a 'chick-flick' that happened to be on the television. Fairly soon, what with the kissing and cuddling, we decided that we might as well go to bed! After all, we hadn't really seen each other for a couple of weeks, and both Emma and David's wedding day and the Sunday following had given us no chance for intimacy.

I had warned Reggie that I wasn't wearing my breast forms, although I believed that my real breasts were starting to grow. Once I had undressed and put on my silk nightdress, I was convinced that they were definitely starting to increase in size, and the effect of the cool silk, caused my nipples to harden. After I got into bed, Reggie undressed and just put on his pyjama bottoms before joining me.

“I think your doctor is right,” he said, looking down at my chest, and then he did something he'd never done before; he bent down and gently kissed one of my nipples through the silk of the nightie. It felt almost like a mild electric shock coursing through my body. While my breast forms were very convincing in appearance, I couldn't feel any sensations from them, but this was so different!

“Oooh!” I gasped, and my body quivered.

Reggie looked up. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“Oh no! Far from it. It felt.....wonderful,” I replied. I rather hoped he'd do it again, but instead he kissed me on the lips, I turned around and snuggled into him, a position I understand is called 'spooning'. To my delight, Reggie stretched his arm around my body and rested his hand very gently on my breast. I could feel the nipple growing hard in response and he could too.

“Mmmm. That feels nice,” he murmured. His body was already starting to respond to me, and it wasn't long before we were making long slow love.

On Monday morning we were up early. Reggie was first in the shower, and when he reappeared, a towel wrapped around his midriff, I was sorely tempted to invite him back to bed. Sense prevailed however, and while he dressed, I took my turn in the bathroom. After I had dressed, and we'd had breakfast, we walked to the tube station together. At Finsbury Park, we changed to the Victoria Line, where it was standing room only, and alighted at Oxford Circus where I kissed Reggie goodbye. As the train carried him away from me towards the City, I felt this incredible sense of loneliness and knew I would be counting down the days until I saw him again. I now changed to the Bakerloo Line and alighted at Marylebone station to take the train back to Stratford. By now I was getting quite comfortable about finding my way around London.

Back at Stratford, the production continued to run smoothly. I was already feeling the beneficial effects of reducing the number of my performances, and it also seemed that being with Reggie once again had been like a tonic. On Monday morning I rang Mum to see how she was getting on, and I also rang Emma to enquire about the progress of 'Bump', which was our pet name for the baby she was expecting. Everything was going very well. The morning sickness was long gone, and she had actually taken up knitting since her obstetrician had ordered her to take things easy. It will not surprise you in the least to know that she was knitting baby clothes. Since Emma and David had decided that they wanted the baby's gender to be a surprise, she was knitting in gender-neutral colours like yellow, and green. I felt that as a prospective aunty I should be knitting too, but it was a skill I had yet to acquire, and at present I was far too busy to take on anything else.

Then I rang Swenson's Driving School and arranged my first driving lesson for the following Wednesday morning. They suggested that I buy a copy of the 'Highway Code' from W.H. Smith so that I could start learning what I needed to know to drive a car safely. I confess I felt quite excited at the prospect of finally driving a car.

To be continued

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.

---

A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl'

Chapter 2   Driving lessons

On the day of my first driving lesson, I was waiting at the gate ten minutes before the instructor was due to arrive. Precisely on time, a small car that I later found out was a Honda Civic drew up outside the apartment, and a slightly overweight man in his late forties got out. The word 'avuncular' springs to mind as a good way of describing him.

“Miss Stow? I”m Harry Beams from Swenson's Driving School.” This later piece of information was rather redundant since it was painted on the side of the car.

“Hello Mr Beams, I'm Harriet,” I replied.

“Two Harries eh?” he joked and I had to stop myself bristling.

“My father's name was Harold, and yes, it's possible that I could have been called Harry if I'd been born a boy,” I replied, responding with a mild rebuke.

“Quite so. Shall we start the lesson?” Slightly chastened, I like to believe, Harry ushered me to the car, opened the driver's door and waited until I seated myself. It was then that I realised that I had made a mistake. The day was warm and I had decided to wear a skirt and top. The only problem was that the skirt was knee-length, and in sitting down I was exposing rather more leg than I intended. However, it was too late to do anything about it now.

Harry pointed out how to adjust the seat so that I was comfortable. He then got in beside me and proceeded to point out the various controls. I had decided to learn on a manual car at the suggestion of the driving school. This would enable me to drive either manual or automatic cars, so it seemed the better choice.

Once we had both fastened our seat belts, Harry showed me how to adjust the rear view and wing mirrors.

“A common mistake with pupils is forgetting to check the mirrors,” he said. “They are the only way to tell what's going on behind you. Turn your head to check the blind spot when you pull out into traffic and afterwards check your mirrors frequently. It will soon become a habit.”

At his direction I then turned the ignition key and the engine burst into life. I must confess my heart rate had already climbed. Harry told me to check the blind sport and then my mirrors (he had a separate one himself to keep an eye on things), and when I was sure the road behind me was clear, press down on the clutch, move the gear shift knob into first gear release the handbrake and slowly release the clutch while pressing on the accelerator. The car did a slight 'bunny-hop', but I still remember that amazing feeling of the car starting to move, and realising that I was making it happen. Reading back that sounds a little strange, but I've spoken to other woman and they all agree that it's a common experience. As the car accelerated, Harry advised me when to change up the gears so that the engine was not over-revved.

I drove slowly down the road, and with Harry's guidance, started to relax. Harry was a good teacher and I like to think I was intelligent enough to pick up everything he was saying. Everything was going smoothly when Harry very casually put his hand on my knee. I didn't panic but just kept driving. Then I said in a conversational tone. “Are you married Harry?” I knew he was because I had seen his wedding ring.

“Yes I am, with two daughters, why do you ask?” he replied, and his hand was still there.

“I'm sure your job is very important to you then, and it would be a shame to jeopardise it for an error of judgment,” I said. I can tell you that his hand left my leg as quickly as if it had been scalded.

The lesson carried on and we were now heading back towards my apartment. I could tell that Harry was sweating. I was hoping that by wearing a skirt I had not sent out the wrong signals, but then I thought 'Why shouldn't I wear a skirt if I wanted to? It's part of what women wear, and Harry was completely in the wrong.' However, I decided to give him another chance, so when I alighted from the car, which I did before Harry had time to walk around to the driver's side, I said “Same time next week Harry?”

“Err yes, same time,” he replied. I realised that up until that moment he hadn't been sure if I was going to take the matter further, and that by handling it the way I did I had taken charge of the situation. It felt very empowering.

The following lessons ran quite smoothly. I wore trousers for all of them, and Harry knew why, but I must say he didn't step an inch out of line. He told me that I was a 'quick learner', and before long he announced that we just needed one more lesson to practise reversing and parking, which I know is the 'bête noir' of many beginners, before I applied for my driving licence.

The following week I was waiting at the kerb for Harry to arrive when the car pulled up, and out stepped a tall handsome young man with blond hair.

“Miss Stow? I'm Dale Swenson. My dad owns the driving school,” he said by way of introduction.

“Hello Mr Swenson, is Harry not well?”

Dale looked a bit embarrassed. “Err no, Harry is no longer with us.”

“Oh!” was my response, but I thought 'Oh Harry, what have you done?'

“You don't seem totally surprised. I hope nothing happened....?” his voice trailed away.

“A minor incident,” I replied. “I decided to give him a second chance.” 'Oh dear. Why can't some men think with their brains rather than other organs?'

“That was kind of you, but unfortunately he chose someone else who was less forgiving. Anyway, what's done is done. I see that this is to be your last lesson and you need to practise reversing and parking,” Dale said, breaking in on my thoughts. 'Would you like to drive to the back of the supermarket car park? There is always a lot of space there, and we can run through the techniques.”

I got in and we drove to the local Tesco. As Dale predicted, there was plenty of space, so he set up some cones and we got to work. He was a very good instructor, and pointed out a few techniques that Harry had not mentioned, and soon I was finding that I could easily swing the car into the allotted parking space.

“Excellent!” was Dale's comment. “I think it's time you applied for the theory test.”

At this time, there was only a multiple choice test, as the hazard perception test had yet to be introduced, and I was able to take the test in the DVSA office in Stratford. I had to wait a few weeks before doing the test, but I'm pleased to say that I scored thirty-four out of a possible thirty-five for the test.

For the practical test, it was necessary for us to drive to Warwick which was the nearest location where they were held. There was another wait of some weeks before the big day arrived, so I had one more general lesson with Dale to make sure I didn't forget anything important.

The morning of the practical test I was up early and was having breakfast when the phone rang. It was Dale.

“Harriet, I'm sorry to disturb you, but one of our pupils had an accident in the Civic yesterday, nothing serious, but it's not available for your test. I can bring along a Vauxhall Astra if you like, or would you prefer that I cancel the booking?”

“Oh please don't cancel,” I responded. “I've waited weeks for this test and I'll probably have to wait weeks again if I don't go today.”

“Very well. Then shall I come early so you can get used to the car?” he said.

“Yes please,” I replied, so as promised, Dale turned up an hour early.

The Astra was around the same size as the Civic and not that much different to drive. By the time we reached Warwick, I felt quite confident as I parked the car. We walked into the office with the various pieces of paperwork which are required nowadays in order to get a car licence. After announcing our arrival at the desk, we were told to take a seat and wait. Five minutes later a tall imposing man with a very serious face came over and introduced himself as Samuel Watkins. I was so glad that I was wearing trousers again. I had a feeling that a skirt would have seemed very frivolous to this man. Dale waited in the office, while Mr Watkins and I walked out to the car. I started the Astra and went through the usual routine before moving off into the the traffic. At Mr Watkins' direction, I went through a series of maneuvers and all seemed to be going well. He was making notes on a form attached to a clip-board and I had to resist the temptation to look over and see what he was doing. I knew instinctively that this would not be a good move!

We were about to turn back to the office and had stopped at a crossroads controlled by traffic lights. The lights changed to green, and I was slowly moving off when out of the corner of my eye I saw a car bearing down on us from the right and obviously going far too fast to stop at the lights. Mr Watkins was looking down at his clipboard and didn't immediately notice the other car. I was nearly half-way across the intersection and had a split second to make a decision, so I stepped on the brake and swung the steering wheel to the left. The car's rear swung around and it came to a shuddering halt. The stolen car, for so I later learned it was, drove past my door, tyres screeching as the driver swerved to miss us by the proverbial 'coat of paint'. Right behind was a police car, sirens blaring.

I sat there for a moment or two to recover my equilibrium.

“Are you alright, Miss Stow?” asked Mr Watkins, real concern in his voice.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied, my heart still pounding.

“Well, I think we can put that down as a 'controlled stop',” he said with what I later realised was an attempt at humour. A 'controlled' or 'emergency stop' is one of the options that the examiner can chose to request, usually by giving advance notice and then holding up his hand and saying 'Stop'. In my case I don't think Mr Watkins had intended to have one, but it had chosen us instead.

“Then I think you should drive back to the office now.”

I was only too happy to comply

Once we arrived back at the office, he informed me that I had passed the test, although there were a few minor points to remember. I had trouble taking in what he was saying as my heart was doing joyous cartwheels. He issued me with a pass certificate, and asked if I would like to have my full licence to be sent to me automatically. I said I did, so I handed over my provisional licence so that this could be arranged.

Dale congratulated me and offered to drive us back to Stratford. As we drove along, I told him what had happened with the stolen car just missing us and how I had reacted.

“What you did to avoid that car was classic stunt driver stuff,” he said as we drove along.

“I didn't have time to think, I just acted out of instinct,” I replied.

“Are you thinking of buying a car now?” he asked.

“Yes I am. It will have to be a second-hand car since I'm not earning millions yet; maybe a Civic, since I really like driving it, although the Astra is alright too. The one thing that bothers me is the thought of going into a used-car yard and facing the salesmen. I'm going to feel like a goldfish in a pond full of pirhanas.”

Dale laughed. “Would you like me to help you? I've been around cars all my life and know a thing or two about them. I also know where most of the car yards are in Stratford.”

“Oh would you Dale? I'd feel so much more confident going there in the company of a man. I'd pay for your time of course.”

“We can talk about payment later. I'd be happy to help out,” replied Dale. “Why don't I check out their websites and see who has something suitable? Then we can arrange a time to go.”

“I'm free most mornings when there isn't a cast meeting,” I replied.

True to his word, Dale phoned me three days later. “One of the yards has a Civic and an Astra, and another has a Civic. They're all about three to four years old, and we can go to see them tomorrow if you like?”

The following morning Dale came to pick me up. It was another warm sunny day, and I decided that on this occasion it really would be right to wear one of my pretty summer dresses with bare legs and sandals. I was counting on the fact that the car salesmen, and they nearly always are men, would be ruled by their hormones and want to please a pretty girl by giving her a good deal. Oh dear, does that sound really cynical? Women are the weaker sex after all, so have to play to their strengths, and one is said to be the weakness of the stronger sex for the weaker sex!

When Dale got out of the car, it seemed to have an effect on him too.

“Hello Harriet, you look....nice,” he said.

“Only 'nice'?” I replied, teasing him.

“Well, it's the first time I've seen you wearing a dress,” he responded.

“As you know, there was a reason for that, and I didn't think it appropriate for the driving test either,” I replied.

“But today you think it might help get you a good deal?” he said smiling.

I blushed. “Well, it can't do any harm. How about I play your girlfriend for the day?”

We drove to the first car yard, the one that had the Civic and the Astra. We walked along the rows of gleaming cars and it wasn't long before one of the salesmen appeared. Around fifty years of age, somewhat overweight and wearing the loudest tie I've ever seen, he was almost a caricature of a used car salesman.

“Archie Leach at your service. Can I help you, Sir, Miss?' he asked, addressing himself to Dale as I knew he would.

“Yes. We're hoping to buy my girlfriend her first car.”

“I see. Did you have anything in mind? We have some very suitable cars for young ladies.”

“Well, I see you have a late model Civic and an Astra, maybe we could start with those.”

“By all means,” he said, leading us towards the Civic which stood nearby. It was painted duck-egg blue and I liked the look of it immediately. Yes I know, that's a very 'girly' remark, how can the colour make a difference to how a car performs, and that's the most important thing, but surely it can't hurt if the car looks nice?”

Archie invited me to sit in the driver's seat which I did being careful not to show too much leg. He showed me how to adjust the seat, and pointed out the carious controls. It wasn't much different to the model I had learned to drive in, but I listened as though I'd never seen the model before. Dale asked to look under the bonnet, so that was duly raised and he peered inside.

“Now you've heard the story of the little old lady who only drove to church on Sundays, well this is her car, and if you don't believe me you can check the log book. It's in the glove box along with the RAC check. Would you like to take her for a test drive?” said Archie and we said we would. I drove the car carefully out of the yard and down the road so that we were out of his view. Then I pulled over so that Dale could drive.

“It seems to handle well,” he said. “But I suggest we head up to the M40 so that we can try it out at speed.”

“Won't Archie wonder if we've stolen it?” I said, knowing this would take some time.

“Not a chance,” said Dale. “I left my car there and it's worth more than this one. Would you check the glove-box for the log book and the RAC test he says it has had, please?”

I found both of them and it showed that the car had been serviced regularly and the report was a good one with only a few very minor things to adjust. The M40 test proved to be successful. The car had good acceleration and there were no rattles or squeaks at seventy miles an hour.

When we arrived back, Archie did look a little concerned and joked “I thought you'd run off with it.”

“We had to give it a good test,” replied Dale. “Now how about the Astra?”

We went through the same process again, and as we were driving back, Dale asked which car I preferred. I decided on the Civic and he said that was a good choice as it was a year younger than the Astra, and had less mileage on the mileometer.

“Alright, let‘s go and see how much we can get off the asking price,” he said.

Arriving back at the yard, Archie asked if we had made a decision yet.

“Yes,” I said. “I'd like the Civic, but the price is a bit more than I wanted to pay. Can you do any better?”

Archie pretended to think deeply. He wasn't a good actor. “Well, because it's your first car I can take a hundred pounds off, but that's the best I can do I'm afraid.”

I looked at Dale. “Darling, why don't we go and look at the one at the other yard?”

“Yes I think we should,” he replied. “If we decide on this one, we'll come back Mr Leach.”

We turned and walked towards the road, hand in hand. “Any minute now, any minute now” Dale murmured. There was a sound of footsteps hurrying up behind us.

“Wait a moment please,” said Mr Leach. “I'm down on my sales figures this month and I'd really like you to have the car.” He paused for a second, breathing heavily. “I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll take another hundred off and throw in a year's servicing. I can't be fairer than that, but you'll have to sign the contract now.”

“What do you think darling?” I said to Dale. He gave the slightest flicker of a wink, and I took that as a 'yes' and said “Very well, Mr Leach, you have a deal.”

We went back to the office and I signed the papers, politely declining his offer of arranging insurance by which I'm sure he hoped to recoup some of the money. I was told the car would be ready to pick up the following day.

As we drove back to my apartment I thanked Dale. “That was very well done, Dale, you're quite an actor.”

“Why don't we celebrate by me taking you out to dinner?” he said.

'Oh dear, this could get tricky,' I thought, and aloud I said. “I'm at the theatre six nights a week and only get Sundays off. Maybe we could do lunch, but only on the condition that I pay. You haven't told me yet what I owe you for your help.”

“Lunch will be fine,” he replied, and I thought that I had better be straight with him now before this went any further.

“There's just one thing you should know Dale, I already have a steady boyfriend.”

“Well, there's a co-incidence, so have I,” he replied ,and burst out laughing at the look on my face. “We don't all act like Mr Humphries, you know?” (He was referring to the outrageously gay character in the British television sitcom “Are You Being Served”.)

“I'm sorry,” I replied, blushing a bright red.

“Don't be, I'm not,” he replied. “So can we still be friends now you know?”

“Of course,” I replied. “In fact I don't have many friends here, so another one would be most welcome. My boyfriend Reggie is living and working in London at present and soon he's going to York University, so I still won't see him very much.”

“There's another co-incidence,” said Dale. “Frank is working in London too, so I'm a bit short of friends. I'm more interested in art than sport, so that doesn't help.”

We arranged to meet the following week for lunch, and Dale reminded me to arrange insurance before I picked up the car the next day. I did as he advised, and felt very grown-up as I drove my new car out of the car-yard the following day. Unfortunately the apartment didn't have a garage, so I decided to buy a car cover to keep it in as good a condition as possible.

Mary admired my new car. “I love the colour Harriet, it's lovely,” she enthused.

The next thing to do was to ring Mum. “Guess what Mum? I've bought my first car,” I said.

“Goodness me, my little girl is really growing up!” she responded.

“I'll drive up and see you as soon as I have enough time,” I said. “You know how difficult it is at present with all the performances.”

“Yes I do darling, and shouldn't you get some more practise before you do a long trip?” she said.

“Yes you're right, and I promise that I will be careful when driving. I know that getting my licence is only the first stage.”

I asked how Mum was going and she said she was fine. She was enjoying her work at the theatre box office, and I wasn't surprised at that. Mum loves people and chatting to them.

Next I rang my sister Emma to tell her about my new acquisition. “How's 'Bump' going? I said. 'Bump' was our nickname for the baby she was expecting.

“He or she is growing fast. I keep having to adjust my centre of balance. By the time I'm ready to give birth, I'll really be leaning over backwards,” she laughed. I asked after her husband David and the Apollo Players and it seemed all was going well.

“We're missing you of course, but that was a wonderful opportunity to work at Stratford. How is Mary going?”

“She's fine. She's taking the two matinees each week to give me a break, so it's a win-win situation.”

Emma laughed. “Maybe she won't want to come back to Bridchester after a taste of the high life.”

“I think she will,” I responded. “She is missing up there.”

I thought she would ask me if I was missing Brid too, but she didn't. My sister is very wise.

To be continued

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.

---

A sequel to 'The Might-Have-Been Girl'

Chapter 3   Solving a crisis

It was now late August and Hamlet had been playing for nearly three months. I had had my driving licence for just over a month and was enjoying the freedom it gave me to tour the lovely countryside surrounding Stratford. Of course I would have liked to have explored it with Reggie, but with only one day off a week, and him still playing cricket, it wasn't always possible for us to meet up.

'Hamlet' was still playing to packed houses and standing ovations. I have to say that for a relative newcomer to the stage this was heady stuff. We were almost in a routine and that can be dangerous territory. Just when you think nothing can go wrong, it does.

It was eight-thirty on Monday morning. I didn't go down to London to see Reggie that weekend as he had a two-day cricket match and we both agreed it would be better to wait until he was free on Sunday. I always leave my mobile phone on the bedside table and it began that annoying jingle, which I leave in place because it encourages me to answer it quickly.

It was Tony Robertson. “Thank goodness I've reached you Harriet, we have a crisis on our hands. Dame Emily and her friend and understudy Madge went out to dinner last night to celebrate Madge's birthday. Dame Emily has just rung me. They've both come down with food poisoning. They're going to see a doctor as soon as they can but she puts the chances of either of them performing tonight at near zero.”

“Oh dear, that is bad news,” I responded, feeling I had to make a response however banal.

“I spoke to the producers and they were on the point of canceling tonight's performance and hoping that either Dame Emily or Madge would be well enough for tomorrow. Then I remembered that when we offered you the understudy position for Ophelia, we also asked you to be a reserve understudy for Queen Gertrude, and you did have a few rehearsals. So what I'm asking is, do you think you could perform Queen Gertrude tonight while Mary plays Ophelia?”

I only hesitated a millisecond. “Yes Tony, I'm sure I can. I did learn the part of course, but would it be possible for me to have a rehearsal with David today?”

His sigh of relief was audible. “I'll ring him right away. Can you speak to Mary for me?”

“Of course Tony. I'm sure we'll get through this.” I wasn't quite as confident as I sounded but somebody had to be positive about it, and for me there was a certain sense of 'déjà vu' after my first performance in 'Dear Brutus'.

Tony rang off and I slipped out of bed, put on my dressing gown and knocked on Mary's door. I explained the situation to her and she looked at me wide-eyed.

“And you're happy to take on the role with hardly any rehearsal?” she said.

“Well not 'happy' exactly but there's no other option short of canceling the performance, and don't forget I've been in this situation once before.” We both laughed at that and then I heard my phone ringing again so I raced back to answer it.

“I've got in touch with David and he can be at the theatre at eleven o'clock,” said Tony. “There's one other thing. I'm not sure if you'll fit in Dame Emily's costume, so I've arranged for someone from Wardrobe to be there this morning. I”m sure they can find something suitable for you to wear. When can you be there?”

“We should be there before ten,” I replied. “Mary is happy to play Ophelia, so we're all set.”

“Thanks Harriet,” he said. “I won't forget this.”

Mary and I hurried through our showers and dressing and then settled for a quick coffee and a slice of toast before heading for the theatre. I headed down to the Wardrobe department where Ange, one of the women was waiting for me.

“I'll just take your measurements,” she said, and put the tape measure over my bust, waist and hips while I was still dressed. She gave no indication that she noticed anything unusual.

“As I thought, you'll never get into Dame Emily's costume, but one of the advantages of doing so much Shakespeare is that we have plenty of costumes from that era. Take your top and skirt off and I'll see what I've got.”

She was back in a few minutes carrying two very grand costumes, telling me one had been used for the part of Queen Elizabeth I in another play. I tried them both on and we both decided that the 'Queen Elizabeth' one was most suitable.

“Would you like to wear it for the rehearsal to get used to it? It's quite a bit different to the Ophelia costume.”

“Yes, I think I will,” I replied. Ange made sure it was sitting properly on me, and I walked back up to the stage, just as David arrived. Tony was already there, so I asked him what he thought of the costume. I think that was the least of his worries at that moment, but he replied that it looked fine.

“I'm wearing it to get used to it,” I said.

Apart from one rehearsal, I'd never acted with David while playing the Queen before, so this was new to me. Tony had a short discussion with us first.

“Harriet, you're younger than David, so since you're playing his mother, we'll have to ask Makeup to add a few years. Of course in those days, brides, especially royal ones were quite young, so Hamlet's mother might have been only sixteen years older than him. We'll have a rehearsal first, and then if you'd like to get made up, we'll see how you look.”

The rehearsal went very well. David is a brilliant actor, but by now I was quite used to seeing him around, both on and off stage, and he's the easiest person to get along with. When we had a break, he complimented me in that amazing Scottish accent which he seems to be able to switch off and on at will.

“That was great Harriet. I'm rather glad you're a young woman or you might have been taking over my role,” he said with a smile. Now that is some compliment!

I went off to Makeup for them to work their magic. They're just some of the talented people who are never seen, but by working their magic they make the cast look good. After they had finished and I looked at myself in the mirror, I was amazed. They had added a good ten years to my age but without me looking grotesque. It was indeed a revelation to see myself as I might appear as I grew older. Now it was up to me to act the part of an older woman.

We rehearsed until mid-afternoon, when Tony said he was satisfied. He might have wanted to go on longer, but he realised that we would all need some rest before the evening performance.

“I've heard from Dame Emily,” he said. “Her doctor has said that ideally she should get at least two days rest before going onstage again. In the meantime she's undergoing treatment.”

The evening performance was quite a challenge. Before it started the announcer said to the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to the indisposition of Dame Emily Good, in tonight's performance the part of Queen Gertrude will be played by Miss Harriet Stow, and the part of Ophelia by Miss Mary Green.”

That certainly caused a stir amongst the audience, we could hear them murmuring to each other. I know that they were all looking forward to seeing Dame Emily perform and so would be viewing my efforts with a very critical eye. Still, I couldn't let that affect me. I would do my best, I always did.

The performance went very well. For me it seemed strange to see someone else playing Ophelia and having to interact with them. It was almost as if I was watching myself perform two roles at the same time. One special moment for me was that lovely speech in which the Queen announces Ophelia's death, which in the play occurs off-stage.

'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 crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,

That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,

But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them.

There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds

Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke,

When down her weedy trophies and herself

Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide

And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up;

Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes,

As one incapable of her own distress,

Or like a creature native and indued

Unto that element; but long it could not be

Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,

Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay

To muddy death.

When I finished the speech there was a moment's complete and utter silence, a compliment better than the most enthusiastic applause. The lights of the stage spilled into the audience far enough for me to see two women in the front row dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs. I might not be Dame Emily but I felt sure that they would remember my part in the performance.

At the conclusion of the play, there was again a standing ovation, and cheers as Mary and I joining hands advanced to the foot of the stage to take our bows, just before David appeared. We smiled at each other in silent recognition that we had not disappointed the audience. Tony was very gracious in his compliments afterwards.

“I'm going to contact Dame Emily and let her know how well you went, and that if she feels it's necessary for her to take a second day off, then we can manage,” he said. Thinking back, I suppose that even with an artist of Dame Emily's standing, he had to be careful not to imply that we were managing too well without her! I'm sure I would feel the same way.

Mary and I then went back to our dressing room to change and take the taxi back to the apartment. What a day it had been!

A few mornings later I had a phone call from my agent Richard Green.

“Hariett, I thought I'd catch up with you. Actually I was in Stratford a couple of days ago but didn't have time to call, however I did managed to see 'Hamlet', and you playing the Queen at short notice – amazing! As you know, I took you on as a favour to Dame Emily; she's asked me to do that for young actors a couple of times, and I trust her judgment implicitly, but it's still nice to see clients for myself. I have to tell you that I was very impressed with your performance. You have a great career ahead of you young lady.”

I thought to myself 'How on earth did you manage to score a ticket? They're like hen's teeth.' Aloud I said “Thank you very much Richard.”

“Now to business,” the tone of his voice changed. “I'm sure you are learning that as a professional actress you have to be thinking about the next role you will play and the one after that. You must also put aside money to tide you over the lean times, and they happen to even the best actors. It's my job to help you with your career, and to expand your repertoire and experience. I have it on good authority that ISC's next production will be 'Twelfth Night', and you would be perfect for the role of 'Viola', so I hope you will audition for it.”

I could hardly stop myself from bursting out laughing. This would be “art imitating life” in a way no-one but I would know. In Shakespeare's time the role was played by a boy, pretending to be a girl Viola, pretending to be a boy Cesario. How ironic if I should play the role!

“I'd love to audition for the role,” I replied. “Of course I've never played comedy before so I don't know how I would go. Do you know who is directing the play?”

“The whisper is that it's Chris Johnson. He's very experienced with Shakespearean comedy,” he replied. I'd never heard of him, so made a mental note to find out all I could about him.

“Do this well and there might be bigger things to come. I've heard a rumour that they are considering 'Romeo and Juliet' in the near future. Most actresses your age would kill for that role.” 'Hmmm. An interesting choice of words' I thought.

“Anyway, first things first. I think you stand a very good chance of getting Viola, so I'll put your name forward.”

“Thank you Richard,” I said. “I'm just learning how important an agent is to an actor.”

He laughed and rang off.

To be continued

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.

---

Chapter 4   Home truths

I could hardly wait for Mary to return from her shopping trip to tell her my news.

“Guess what, Mary, Richard, my agent just rang me; the ISC is definitely doing 'Twelfth Night' next and he wants me to audition for the role of Viola/Cesario!”

Her reaction was not what I expected. Far from a beaming smile and good wishes, her face actually fell, and suddenly it hit me.

“Oh I'm sorry, Mary. You wanted to go for that part didn't you. Well you still can you know. You're a good actress and there's a new director Chris Johnson. We don't know what he's looking for. You might end up with the part and me your understudy.”

This did not have the desired effect, in fact quite the reverse.

“Harriet, false modesty doesn't become you!” she said with a frown. “If we were the only two auditioning for the role, I have absolutely no doubt who would get it.”

I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. There's an old saying “When you're in a hole, stop digging.” Everything I said seemed to make matters worse, but Mary hadn't finished yet.

“The other night when you were playing the Queen and I was Ophelia, I had one of those 'light bulb moments'. Alright, you say I'm a good actress, and I'll take that as a compliment, but I'm just not in your league. You took over that role with half a day's notice and made it your own, just like you did when you stepped in for me in 'Brutus'. If I was Dame Emily, I'd be getting worried.”

I was horrified. “Mary! Please don't say things like that. I'm still a beginner, really! Alright, I'm lucky that I have such a good memory, but there's much more to acting, and I still have so much to learn.”

Mary's expression softened. “Alright, maybe I went a bit too far then, but I can only dream of having your talent. In fact, I was going to say something to you and now is as good a time as any. I think it's about time I went back to the Apollo Players. I'm not saying this hasn't been a wonderful experience and I'm so glad I came here, but I feel like an impostor sometimes, acting with all these famous people. You don't see it that way, and I can understand that because you can hold your own with them.”

I was struggling to stop tears springing to my eyes. I didn't want Mary to go. I would miss her dreadfully, but was I still only thinking of me? I knew I had to audition for the role; people would really wonder if I didn't. I could only hope that Mary was appointed understudy and then she might stay. This called for some humble pie.

“Mary, you are right in everything you say. I can see now that I am getting a swelled head and it isn't a good look. For your sake as well as mine, will you please audition for the role? You seem convinced that I'm a shoe-in but it really mightn't be the case. I've got to convince a new director. He'll look at my CV, such as it is, and see I've only done two dramatic roles and no comedies at all. This could easily be where I fall to earth with a thud.”

The performance that evening was not one of my best. Normally I would immerse myself in the rôle so completely that all personal matters were parked in a corner of my mind to be taken out and examined later, while I concentrated on 'being' the role I was playing. However, Mary's remarks kept coming back into my mind and I even nearly missed a cue, something I normally never do. Fortunately Tony was not at the theatre that evening or he would certainly have had something to say. I did notice Dame Emily look at me strangely, but she said nothing afterwards. Perhaps she thought I was just having an 'off' night. I suppose even the best actors have the occasional one. However, I knew I had to pull myself together. It wasn't fair to the audience who had paid good money to see a performance. You can't say to them 'come back tomorrow and I'll do I better'. They only see it once.

Mary and I went back to the flat after the performance, and it wasn't long before I was in bed, but sleep wouldn't come. What did come were tears, and they turned to sobs and I just couldn't stop them. I tried to muffle the sounds by burying my head under my pillow, but I was unsuccessful. There was a gentle tap on my door.

“Harriet? Are you alright?” said Mary. I didn't answer, not because I didn't want to but because I just couldn't speak between sobs. I heard the door open and Mary walked over to the bed in bare feet and sitting on it, reached out and held my hand.

“What is it?” she said. ”What has upset you so much? I watched you this evening, and that wasn't the Harriet I've come to know.”

I finally found my voice, although tears were still running down my cheeks. “I'm sorry Mary, so sorry. I've been carrying on like I'm a big diva and now I'm driving you away, and I just don't want you to go, even though I know I'm being selfish saying that.” It all came out in a rush. “You have every right to do whatever you want to do. You are a good actress, I wasn't just saying that, but you are my friend, and I know I'm going to miss you so much, so I really am being selfish after all, wanting you to stay.”

In the moonlight I could see that Mary managed a wry smile. “Alright Harriet, I've been thinking too after our talk this morning and maybe I've been going to act in haste. I'll put in for the role, but I think it's like the golfers playing with world number one Tiger Woods, they play for second place, and I suspect that's what I'll be doing.”

“Oh Mary!” the tears started to flow again, but perhaps they were more tears of relief this time. I was clinging to her, and this time she slipped into bed and hugged me because it was my turn to be comforted.

It was the day of the auditions. In Twelfth Night there are only two main female roles, Viola/Cesario and Olivia, and one minor role, Maria a servant to Olivia. Mary had decided that she would audition for Maria as well as Viola, thinking that she stood a greater chance of getting the role.

Twelfth Night is one of the most performed of Shakespeare's plays, and summaries of the plot are easily accessible, so I will confine my precis just to the character Viola that I hoped to play

Twins Viola and Sebastian are shipwrecked on the coast of Illyria. Viola is saved but believes her brother drowned. For safety in a strange country, she disguises herself as a youth 'Cesario', and obtains a position as a page to Count Orsino who is wooing the Lady Olivia. She rejects his advances, saying she refuses to marry for seven years following the death of her brother. Orsino tries a different approach by sending 'Cesario' with messages to Olivia who of course falls in love with 'him'. Meanwhile Cesario (Viola) falls in love with Orsino – the perfect 'love triange'.

There were six young women auditioning for Viola, and I was to be the last. I took this to mean that after discussion with the producers, the new director Chris Johnson had been told that I was the most likely person for the role of Viola. I hoped they were right.

For the audition, we had all been asked to read Viola's longest speech of the play, in Act Two, when disguised as Orsino, she meets the Lady Olivia who immediately falls in love with 'him'

'I left no ring with her: what means this lady?
Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'd her!
She made good view of me; indeed, so much,
That sure methought her eyes had lost her tongue,..…..'

In much the same way as at the Hamlet auditions, we were all thanked for our attendance, and told that Chris Johnson would 'let us know'.

Then came auditions for Olivia, and another six women in their late twenties or early thirties were auditioning for that role. I sat in the stalls to hear them, and one in particular, Scarlett Mitchell impressed me. Not only was she beautiful, with flaming red hair but she could act! Mentally I rated her easily the best of the women who auditioned. I could tell from Chris's body language that he was impressed too. Men find it very hard to conceal their emotions when they find a woman really attractive.

Finally, there were a couple of young women as well as Mary, who were auditioning for the role of Maria. I thought Mary did very well, and at this point I left to go home and have a siesta before returning to the theatre for the evening performance of Hamlet. I knew Chris had all the male auditions to conduct, and I didn't really expect to hear from him that day, so it was quite a surprise when a couple of hours later I was woken up by my mobile phone.

“Miss Stow? It's Chris Johnson. How are you?”

“Very well thank you Mr Johnson.”

“Thank you for auditioning today. We were all very impressed, and I have much pleasure in offering you the role of Viola/Cesario,” he said.

“Thank you very much Mr Johnson, I'm happy to accept.”

“We'll start rehearsals next week, and I expect everyone to be 'off book' by the end of the second week. Now I understand you share accommodation with Miss Wells; may I have a word with her if she's available please?”

I asked him to hold for a minute and knocked on Mary's bedroom door. When she opened it, I told her it was Chris Johnson and left her to take the call in private.

Five minutes she knocked on my bedroom door. I had dressed and was fixing my makeup.

“Harriet, I need some advice. I've been offered two options – understudy to you or the role of Maria, and I don't know which to chose. I said I'd ring Chris Johnson back within the hour and tell him.”

“Well that's good news Mary, but I can't tell you what to do; that's your choice.”

“I can't make up my mind and I'm afraid of making the wrong decision. Tell me, please, if you were me, what would you do?”

I looked at her. “Alright Mary, I'll tell you what I'd do, but if you find out it's the wrong advice, please don't hate me.”

“Of course I won't hate you,” she said, smiling. I hoped she meant it..

“Alright, then I'd take 'Maria', and I'll tell you why. It's a smaller part of course, but you are on-stage quite a bit, and that's where you want to be, not sitting around in a dressing room.”

Mary smiled. “That's what I thought too, but I didn't know if it was the right choice. I'll ring Chris back right away.”

She looked very relieved as she left the room, and I was relieved too. Now she would be staying for another few months – a 'win-win' situation.

The following weekend, Reggie came to visit me at Stratford. His cricket club had a bye, so he had the whole weekend off. He took the train straight after work but he would arrive after I had left for the theatre, so I suggested that rather than hang around the theatre all evening, he could call in and pick up the door key and then I would see him after the performance was finished.

This proved to be a very good move, as when Mary and I returned from the theatre, Reggie was in the kitchen, and after inquiring how the performance had gone, his next words were “Who would like an omelet?”

That was most acceptable as I always find that acting makes me ravenously hungry, and Mary was very happy to tuck in too. After that was bed of course, and it was so lovely to snuggle up to Reggie's body once more. I missed him so much when he wasn't there.

Saturday morning we slept in late (no prizes for guessing why!) and after showering and dressing, we had a cup of coffee and a piece of toast and then went out for the morning. Mary was performing at the matinee, which meant I was free until about six o'clock. I was effectively her understudy in case of emergencies of course, but I had my mobile phone with me and wasn't more than about ten minutes from the theatre in the unlikely event that I had to rush in and take over, which never happened.

It might seem strange that I had been living in Stratford for a few months and was performing Shakespeare six nights a week, but I had never seen his grave. I pointed this out to Reggie, so we decided to go for a walk down to the Church of the Holy Trinity. Shakespeare lived from 1564 to 1616, and was born and died on 23rd April, St George’s day – the patron saint of England. How appropriate is that? He was buried in the chancel of the church and his grave does not bear his name but rather a few lines that he penned for his own epitaph, which read as follows:

'Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbeare
To digg the dust enclosed heare;
Bleste be the man that spares thes stones
And curst be he that moves my bones.'

It seems that even when he was alive, Shakespeare was concerned that as a well-known playwright and poet, someone might be tempted to obtain a souvenir from his remains. On the wall of the church we saw the bust that was made during the lifetime of his widow Anne, and which is said to be a good likeness of him.

Afterwards we went to lunch. By now I was becoming used to being recognised. Sometimes this was merely by a smile from a passer-by, and sometimes I was engaged in conversation or asked for an autograph. I believe I had learned how to be gracious whatever approach was made. After all, these were the people who paid their money to see me perform and so they were deserving of respect. I couldn't help thinking that if even I as a junior member of the company received this attention, what must it be like for Dame Emily or David? They must find it difficult to step out of their accommodation without being accosted.

After lunch we made our way back to the apartment for me to have a short siesta prior to the evening's performance. It did concern me that Reggie might get very bored with a girlfriend who worked such unsociable hours, but he insisted that it was not a problem to him.

On Sunday, we decided to go for a short run in my new little car which I had named 'Bluebird', and drove north to Henley-in-Arden a small town with lovely historic buildings, some dating back to Tudor times. We lunched appropriately enough at the 'Bluebell Inn' – well having seen it, where else should we go? It may well sound that we didn't seek excitement on our days together, and to be honest, only having one day off a week, I appreciated the opportunity to have a rest, and was not up for strenuous exercise.

It was while we were having lunch that something happened that shook me. I was telling Reggie the story of my driving lessons and how Dale had helped me buy my car. Thinking that perhaps he might be jealous of me spending time with another man, especially when I told him Dale had asked me out to lunch, I blurted out “You don't have to worry, he's gay.”

Reggie's response was not what I expected. He looked at me with a solemn expression and said “It doesn't really matter if he's gay or straight as a die, Harriet. You know that I want to marry you one day, but until that time comes, I have no right to tell you who you can and can't see.”

I felt a thump in my chest as though my heart had skipped a beat. Was he saying that when we married he would want to control me to the point of telling me who I could and couldn't have as a friend? For that matter, was he saying that if I saw Dale, then he too had a right to see other girls? That was something I could hardly bear to think about, but did that mean that I didn't trust him? I suddenly felt as if the solid rock of our relationship had developed a tiny crack, and an unbidden tear ran down my cheek.

Reggie was immediately concerned. “I'm sorry Harriet, I didn't mean that in an unkind way. You are entitled to have friends and Dale sounds like a really nice chap. I'd like to meet him sometime.”

That didn't really address my internal questions, but I reached out across the table and Reggie clasped my hand in his.

“I love you Harriet,” he said quietly. “I will always love you, you know that.”

Of course the effect of his words was to make the tears run faster, and I had to excuse myself and go to the 'Ladies' to repair the damage to my makeup. Thank goodness there was no reporter present or the headlines might have read something like “Stratford star and boyfriend in public bust-up”. This of course would have been a gross exaggeration, but reporters are not renowned for sticking to the truth if a juicy headline can be the result.

When I returned, Reggie was sitting there, the rest of his meal untouched. I took his hand in mine and said “Reggie, I love you too and always will. I'd never do anything to hurt you and I know you'd never do anything to hurt me.”

Reggie smiled at me and I managed to smile back and said “Well, let's not waste this lovely meal.” With that we resumed our lunch, but my throat was dry and I had difficulty swallowing. The day had been ruined and all through a few thoughtless words. I wished I had never mentioned the lunch with Dale, but then I didn't want to keep secrets from Reggie. His response too had really concerned me.

When we left the hotel, I asked Reggie if he would like to drive the car, but he declined, saying it was my car, and anyway I probably needed all the practice I could get. I wasn't going to argue with him, so I drove us back to the apartment, more or less in silence. I took it for granted that Reggie would stay the night and returned to London by the early morning train, so I was surprised when he said he thought he would return that evening as he had an early morning meeting at the bank. I didn't question the truth of that remark, but thought it was surprising he hadn't mentioned it before. We kissed goodbye at the railway station, but it seemed rather perfunctory to me, and I told myself to stop worrying as I watched the train until it disappeared out of sight.

Looking back now, it seems ridiculous that we both reacted the way we did to what was really a very minor issue, but when you are young and in love, little things can quickly blow up out of all proportion.

Reggie and I had an arrangement that when we arrived home after visiting each other, we would telephone and let it ring three times before hanging up, unless of course we wanted to talk, in which case we let the phone keep ringing. That evening I waited for his phone call; I knew roughly what time he would get home. I hoped he would want to talk but when the phone began to ring, it rang three times and then stopped. I cried myself to sleep before Mary arrived home from a date.

To be continued.

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.

---

Chapter 5   Lunch with Dale

Dale had been so busy giving lessons at his dad's driving school that our lunch together had been delayed. However on Monday he rang to say they had appointed a new instructor and as a result he was free for lunch on Wednesday if I was. Since my disagreement with Reggie on Sunday, I had had time to think about it and also the fact he hadn't rung me since, and I was getting a bit annoyed. I thought he had over-reacted to my comment, and since it seemed he was giving himself and me 'carte-blanche' to spend time with other people, why shouldn't I have lunch with Dale?

Wednesday dawned bright and sunny, another lovely summer's day, so I decided to wear one of my pretty summer dresses, with bare legs and sandals. I had mentioned to Mary that I was having lunch with Dale as a 'thank-you' for his helping me to purchase a car, and I was glad that she made no adverse comment about it, not even a raised eyebrow. I didn't mention to her that Dale was gay, as I didn't know how comfortable he was about telling people.

I took care with my makeup and was pleased with the results when I checked in the mirror. While I principally wanted to look nice for Dale, (it would not have looked good if I'd turned up looking like I'd thrown on the first clothes that came to hand), I had another reason. Being recognised by some people who had attended a performance of 'Hamlet' I knew that I should keep up the standards of the Company by looking as good as possible every time I went out. This wasn't a chore of course, as I enjoyed wearing pretty clothes as much as when I had first started doing so in public almost a year previously. Some people think that being an actress is a very glamorous occupation, and in some ways they are right, but it's also hard work, and that's the part they don't see.

I had arranged to meet Dale at Le Bistrot Pierre, just across the Avon, at noon, and had booked a table for two. It was only a couple of minutes’ drive away from my flat and I arrived a few minutes early but Dale was already there, and I had to say that he looked very handsome. Even though I never had any intention of him being more than a friend, I had that strange feeling of regret that women experience seeing a really handsome gay man and knowing that he will never experience desire for them.

Dale stood up as the Maitre d' ushered me to the table and held the chair for me. I thanked him as I sat down. He asked if we would like a drink, and we both settled for mineral water. Dale said he was conducting a lesson later in the afternoon, so it was important that he have a zero blood alcohol level.

“I hope it is alright to say that you are looking very beautiful today,” he said with a smile.

“Of course it is,” I replied and felt myself colouring slightly.

“I'm so glad,” said Dale. “Nowadays a man never knows if complimenting a woman will be taken as a sexist remark and evoke disapproval.”

“Well this woman is happy to receive any compliments she can get,” I said, smiling.

The drinks arrived then and we toasted each other, had a sip and then settled down to examine the menu. All the dishes were named in French, but thank goodness the descriptions were in English. For entrée we both had the 'Salad de samoun', and for the main course, I ordered 'Médaillons de porc', while Dale ordered 'Pavé de steak'. I'm sure my readers can interpret the names of the dishes. I have to say that the food was very good and very reasonably priced. I would have skipped dessert if I had been on my own, but it was obvious that Dale wanted one, so we both settled for 'Crème brûlée' . It was delicious, but I couldn't help thinking to myself 'Thank goodness I've got a few hours to digest lunch before going on stage!'

During lunch we chatted, first about the work he was doing, and later, since we were seated some distance from the other occupied tables, (the Maitre d' probably thought we were having a romantic lunch), the conversation turned to my personal life. I gave Dale a brief summary of my time in the theatre and how I ended up acting almost by accident.

“The happiest accident of all was of course meeting Dame Emily on the London Underground. If it hadn't been for that, I wouldn't have been here today,” I said.

“But that wouldn't have made any difference if you didn't have talent,” said Dale.

“I'm sure there are many other girls with as much talent as me, if not more, but they didn't have that lucky break,” I said.

“Well, you've made the most of it. I saw you in Hamlet and I can only say you were superb,” said Dale.

“I'm surprised you managed to buy a ticket,” I replied.

“I was lucky. I only need one ticket and it was a return due to someone falling ill. So what's next for you after 'Hamlet'?”

“I'm in 'Twelfth Night', playing Viola/Cesario,” I replied.

“That's interesting, is it two parts?” said Dale looking puzzled.

“Not exactly,” I replied. “I'll give you a brief summary of the start, but I won't be a 'spoiler' in case you go to see it. Twins Viola and Sebastian are shipwrecked on the coast of Illyria. Viola is saved but believes her brother is drowned. She is concerned about being in a strange land as a young woman so she disguises herself as a youth, takes the name Cesario, and obtains a position as a page to Count Orsino; and promptly falls in love with him. The Count is wooing the Lady Olivia who refuses to marry for seven years following the death of her brother, so he sends Cesario with love messages to Olivia who of course falls in love with 'him' – Cesario; the perfect 'love triangle'.” I paused and smiled at Dale. “Am I confusing you?”

He laughed. “No, I'm keeping up, but it's quite a scenario. So you spend most of your time as a young woman pretending to be a young man?”

“Well in Elizabethan times It was even more complicated, because all the women's parts were played by boys or young men, so you had a young man pretending to be a young woman, pretending to be a young man!”

“How crazy,” said Dale. “Why couldn't women be on the stage?”

“I don't think there was a law against it but it just wasn't the done thing. Did you ever see a film called 'Shakespeare in Love'?" I asked.

“No, I thought it was a 'chick-flick',” he said.

“Well it won seven Academy Awards including Best Picture,” I replied. “A major part of the plot is that a young woman appears on the stage, disguised as a young man. I've got the DVD, would you like to borrow it?”

“Yes I would,” he replied. “For some reason I seem to be getting interested in Shakespeare.”

“Enough about me, tell me about you,” I said.

Dale paused, he seemed embarrassed. “Well compared to you, my life has been very dull,” he said. “I left school at fifteen and went to work for my Dad in his Driving School. He needed someone to do odd jobs around the place, answer the telephone, do the books, things like that.”

I said nothing, but privately I was appalled. Dale was not stupid, but he seemed to be throwing his life away.

“As soon as I was old enough, Dad taught me to drive, and said that once I had my licence for three years and was over twenty-one, he would teach me how to give driving lessons. In the meantime I continued to do the office work and tinker with the cars.”

“But what's your long-term goal?” I asked.

“I don't know, take over Dad's business when he retires I suppose.” The embarrassment was still there. “Except lately, I wonder if I wasted my time at school and could have aimed for something better.”

“You can always go to night school and pick up where you left off,” I suggested. “What would you really like to do with your life?”

“You'll laugh at me,” he said.

“No I won't, I promise,” I replied.

“Well I've always wanted to be an archaeologist,” he replied. “Have you ever watched that show on television called 'Time Team” where they excavate a site for three days?”

“Yes I have. I find it fascinating, and I would love to have been involved with a dig. My father was a history professor you know.”

“I was able to take part in one of their digs when they were near Stratford. They allow some people to do the non-technical stuff, carting wheelbarrows of soil etc. I've still got the recording where I appear for all of five seconds,” he smiled. “It was just amazing.”

“I think you'd have to go back to school or night school and do your GCE 'O' and 'A' levels and then probably go to university to do a history related undergraduate degree plus a one-year masters degree – and maybe even a PhD. It would be a tough slog but I'm sure it could be done.”

“Tougher than learning to be an actress?” he smiled.

“Far tougher,” I replied. “It depends just how much you want it, and of course you'll never be a millionaire doing it; I hope you realise that.”

Dale laughed. “Money isn't everything, so long as you have enough to live on.”

I didn't know if I was venturing onto forbidden territory, but I said “What about your personal life? Do you want to tell me about that? It's alright if you don't.”

In answer, he pulled out his wallet and opening a zipped up compartment, pulled out a small photo and showed it to me. “That's Frank,” he said.

The photo was of the head and shoulders of a young man in his early twenties with fair curly hair. His face was better described as 'pretty' rather than 'handsome'. In fact it didn't take much imagination to see him with the right hair styling and makeup as a pretty girl.

I smiled as I handed the photo back. “He's gorgeous,” I said. “Or am I using the wrong word?”

“No, you're right, he is,” said Dale, colouring slightly.

“How did you meet him?” I asked.

“He came for driving lessons and Dad thought as I was about his age, it would be good for me to teach him how to drive. Dad was right, we got along famously. He's very smart and learned almost too quickly because he didn't need many lessons. It was during the last lesson, as we were heading back to Stratford, that Frank pulled over into a layby which happened to be empty, saying “I want to talk to you about something.”

"I assumed it was to do with driving, but when the car pulled up, he switched off the engine, turned to look at me and suddenly leaned over and kissed me on the lips. I was so stunned I just sat there frozen for a moment. After a few seconds he pulled back, looking a bit shocked and said “Oh my god, did I just make the biggest blunder? You were sending me all these signals, and I just thought, in fact I knew....” Harriet, was there ever a time when you knew that the next decision you made would alter your whole life?”

I nodded.

“Well that was the one for me,” he continued. “I felt scared and excited at the same time and I said to Frank 'No you didn't make a blunder at all,' and then I leaned over and kissed him. It was my first proper kiss with anyone. Oh I'd had a few pecks on the cheek with girls I'd taken out, more at my parents' wishes than my own, and nothing had ever come of it. One girl actually asked me after two dates when she was going to get laid, and seemed very offended when I said I didn't know. No, this was a real kiss, tongues and all, and we didn't come up for air until a big lorry drew up behind us and sounded his horn because he didn't have enough space to park. We jumped apart and laughed ourselves silly. I think he didn't see what we were doing, being so high up, but we thought it was safer to take off.

“As we drove along, I said to Frank, 'Please find another layby, we have to talk.' He pulled off the road when we came to the next one. I was still shaking when we stopped. Frank didn't kiss me this time as there were other cars there, he sat and looked at me and said 'That was your first real kiss wasn't it,' as a statement more than a question.

“ 'What about you?' I asked him.

"Frank shook his head. 'Not the very first. That was with a guy I met, but he took it as an invitation to do 'other things' which I didn't want to do. He was rough and horrible, but even though you're manly, you are gentle too. I feel safe with you'."

Dale suddenly stopped and then said “I don't know why I'm telling you all this; well I do know actually because I see you as a girl and a friend, rather than a girlfriend. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” I replied. “In the same way as I see you as a boy and a friend. So what happened then? How did your and his parents react?”

“They don't know,” replied Dale. “They're very conservative church-goers, and if I dared tell them Dad would probably call me a queer or a pansy. He might even throw me out. It's the way they were brought up.”

“So how do you get to see Frank now?” I asked.

“Well I don't see him much. He's actually in London studying accountancy. He was only back in Stratford for a short while when I gave him the driving lessons, and even then he was staying with his parents. I still live with mine of course, so seeing each other in Stratford is almost impossible.”

“But you have seen him since?”

“Yes, in London. He shares a house with two other guys and a girl. They each have a separate bedroom though.”

I didn't feel it was appropriate to ask Dale if he and Frank had got up to 'other stuff' yet. In fact I suddenly looked at my watch and it was far later than I thought. Dale wanted to change the subject too.

“How did Reggie feel about you having lunch with me? I may be wrong but I get the impression that maybe he wasn't altogether happy. Did you tell him I'm gay?”

“Would you mind if I did?” I counter-questioned.

“Not at all. I'm sure it would go no further and it would put his mind at ease that you were quite safe with me.”

“Well yes I did tell him, and it didn't seem to go over very well, but please don't think I'm blaming you. He said that until we are married, he has no right to tell me who I can and can't see.” I could feel myself starting to tear up. “That worried me Dale. I never thought of Reggie as person who would tell me what or what not to do, but that's what he seemed to be saying, like once we were married he'd own me and could dictate who I met.”

“Maybe it was just a bad choice of words,” said Dale. “We don't always put things the best way. Have you spoken to him since then?”

“No I haven't. He was supposed to stay on Sunday night but then he said he had to go back to London for an early meeting. I don't even know if there really was a meeting. Oh Dale, I really don't know what to do. Only a short while ago he gave me this beautiful friendship ring and now it all seems to be falling apart.”

A tear ran down my cheek, and Dale took out his handkerchief and gently dabbed at it. The restaurant seemed suddenly quiet and I thought that other diners might think we were a couple splitting up. How ironic was that? I felt that I didn't want to be there, so I looked up and caught a waiter's eye. When he came over I asked him if I could have the bill please. That might have reinforced the feeling that it was a break-up, but I had promised Dale I was taking him to lunch.

Outside the restaurant, Dale said “Thank you for the lunch Harriet. I'm really sorry you got so upset. I know it wasn't your fault, but maybe you will have to make the first move to repair things with Reggie. 'The course of true love never did run smooth' you know?”

I smiled at that. “Yes I do know. It's Shakespeare, from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' “

“Well what do you know?” said Dale smiling. “It seems some of that education did rub off on me after all.”

“I think you are smarter than you think,” I replied. “So when are we going to meet up again?”

“So this isn't a 'one-off'?” said Dale.

“I don't see why it should be, unless that's all you wanted it to be. Like you said, we can be a boy and girl and friends, even though we're not boyfriend and girlfriend. In fact it makes things a lot simpler.”

Dale laughed. “Friends it is then. I'll give you a ring in about a week if that's ok, when I know my teaching schedule, and next time I'll pay. Oh, and I'll want to hear that you've patched things up with Reggie.”

'So do I', I thought. That evening I decided to ring Reggie during the interval as it was the only time I could speak to him when he wasn't in work. I tried his apartment's phone number first, but there was no-one home, so I rang his mobile. It rang for a long time before Reggie finally answered.

“Reggie, it's Harriet,” I said.

To be continued

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.

---

Chapter 6   How do I love thee?

I could hear a lot of noise and some music in the background and I wondered if he could hear me.

“Reggie?” I said again, louder this time. “It's Harriet.”

“Harriet?” he responded after a pause. “Shesh not here. Left me.” He was slurring his words and my heart sank. He was drunk. This wasn't the Reggie I knew.

“Reggie? This is Harriet.”

He mumbled something in return and I couldn't make out what it was.

“Where are you Reggie?”

His reply sounded something like the 'King's Arms', so he was in a pub. This was getting rapidly worse.

“Do you have someone with you Reggie? Do you have a friend there?” I felt like screaming but now was not the time to lose control. I had to keep calm. I had to repeat the question before I had a response.

“Yes, John, he's good frien'.”

“Let me speak to him, Reggie, give him the phone.” I spoke slowly and distinctly to get through to his befuddled brain.

There was a pause and then a new voice came on the line, fortunately sounding sober.

“John? What's happened to Reggie, he sounds like he's drunk.”

He laughed. “You're right there. He's upset because his girlfriend's left him. He wanted to drown his sorrows but he's in at the deep end and still going down.”

I didn't think it was funny, but thought it better not to say so.

“John, I am his girlfriend, Harriet, and no, I haven't left him. We just had a little disagreement, that's all.”

“Well that's not how he sees it, he says you must have broken up with him because he hasn't heard from you since.”

This wasn't the time to start arguing the finer points of the situation. I was in Stratford and Reggie was in London and in a bad way.

“John, could you possibly do me a great favour? I'm in Stratford, but I can come down and see Reggie tomorrow morning. Is it possible for you to see him safely home? Even if you have to put him in a taxi, I'll reimburse you for the fare. John, I'm really worried about him. If he starts wandering about London in the state he's in, goodness knows what will happen to him.”

At long last it seemed I was getting through.

“Yeah, you're right Harriet, he's not safe the way he is. I'll pay for the taxi. I work with him so you can get the money back to me later.”

I heaved a great sigh of relief. “Thank you so much John, you're a real pal.”

“Is it true what he said about you?” he said and my heart gave a lurch.

“What did he say?”

“That you're an actress playing Shakespeare.”

“Yes, that's right, and they're just ringing the bell now to say the second half of the play is starting.”

“You'd better go then, and don't worry about Reggie, I'll make sure he doesn't have any more drinks, I'll tell him you're coming to see him and I'll make sure he gets home safely.”

“Thank you so much John,” I said again. “I won't forget this, and just to be clear, I love Reggie and I want to marry him some day.”

He laughed. “O.K. Harriet, I'll be your 'knight in shining armour',” and with that he rang off.

I imagine this is where my experience kicked in. I went back on stage and performed the rest of the play as though nothing had happened. Straight afterwards I went to see Tony and told him that Reggie wasn't well and I needed to see him.

“I'll go down on the early train and and I should be back in time for the evening performance. But do you mind if Mary takes over if I don't make it? I promise this won't happen again, but it's really important that I see him,” I said.

“I understand,” said Tony. “Alright, just this once.”

“Thanks so much Tony,” I said, and kissed him on the cheek.

I put Mary in the picture, and as soon as we arrived back at the apartment, I packed an overnight bag, just in case, and checked the train timetable. A train left at ten past six in the morning and arrived at Marylebone Station at eight thirty-two. I set my alarm for four-thirty to make absolutely sure and went to bed.

The alarm seemed to go off in no time. It was dark and I felt exhausted, but I struggled out of bed and into the shower. I dressed quickly and went into the kitchen, trying to keep quiet so that I didn't disturb Mary as I made myself a drink and some toast. I was surprised that as I was having my breakfast Mary appeared in her dressing gown.

“I'll drive you to the station Harriet, you don't need to take a taxi,” she said.

“That's so kind of you Mary. I'll make you some breakfast if you like,” I said, and while she went for her shower, I prepared some more toast and coffee.

I arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare, and I slept most of the way to London, only waking up as the train pulled into Marylebone Station and everyone started to stand up and get their bags. Once I had left the platform, I rang Reggie's apartment, and it was his flatmate Richard who answered.

“Hello Richard,” I said. “Is Reggie there?”

He laughed. “He is, but I don't think he's in a fit state to come to the phone. He went on a real bender last night.”

“Yes, I know. He's got some silly idea that I'd broken up with him and he was drowning his sorrows.”

“Is that what happened?” said Richard. “One of his workmates brought him home in a taxi. It took two of us to get him into his room and put him to bed. I've never seen him like that before.”

“Richard, I'm at Marylebone, I've come down to see him. Can you make sure he stays home please? I should be there in about an hour.”

“Well he's in no condition to go to work, so I'm sure he'll be here Harriet. For what it's worth, I'm glad you two haven't split up.”

“Thanks Richard, I'll go and get on the tube now.”

The trip out to Southgate took just over an hour as I had to change trains at Baker Street. Anyone who hasn't experienced London's 'rush hour' can't imagine what it's like. The crush of people is frightening if you are not used to it. Fortunately, once I was on the Piccadilly Line I was going out of London and so the train wasn't quite so crowded, but I had to stand most of the way. I've been told that in the 'old days' gentlemen would often give up their seat to a woman, but it seems those days are long gone. Instead they bury their faces in their newspaper or phone and steadfastly ignore everything around them. I was so tired I almost felt like fainting, and I finally got a seat just in time.

Arriving at Southgate I took a taxi to Reggie's apartment. I couldn't face the thought of walking. I paid the driver and added the obligatory tip and walked up to the door of the apartment. My heart was pounding as I rang the bell. There was a long wait and then the door opened and Reggie stood there, swaying slightly. His face was grey and he had dark rings around his eyes.

“Harriet! What are you doing here?” he said.

“I came to see you Reggie,” I said and then rushed into his arms and started to cry. He held me tightly and then the effects of the stress and lack of sleep caught up with me and I felt as if the earth was moving under my feet and everything went black.

When I came to, I was lying on a couch and Reggie was looking down at me, his face full of concern.

“Thank God,” he said when I opened my eyes.

“Oh Reggie,” I said, and the tears began to flow again. “What happened? Did I pass out?”

“Yes you did,” he said. “You had me so worried. This is all my fault.”

I reached out for his hand. “I think we've both been at fault Reggie. I had no idea you thought I'd broken up with you.”

Reggie looked embarrassed. “How did you find out that?”

“You friend John told me last night on the phone. He brought you home when I asked him to.”

Reggie looked embarrassed. “We went out for a few drinks when I told him what had happened. I think I overdid it a bit.” He glanced up at the clock. “Oh Lord, look at the time! I'm late for work.”

“I don't think you should go to work today, Reggie. I think you should use the day to recover.”

Reggie grinned ruefully. “I think you're right. My head feels like it's splitting in two and my mouth tastes like the bottom of a bird cage.”

“Please ring them at work and say you're not well, Reggie, because it's true. You don't have to say it's a hangover.”

Reggie went off to ring work and I carefully sat up. I couldn't ever remember fainting before. Was this partly due to the hormones I was on? I knew women tend to faint more than men, but I always put that down to tight corsets and anaemia, neither of which could be a cause in my case.

Reggie came back. “Alright, that's fixed; have you eaten today?”

“About five o'clock this morning,” I said. “And now you come to mention it, I really am hungry. What about you? You must be dehydrated. You'll feel better if you have a few glasses of water.”

Reggie smiled and then grimaced. “Oh my head, but I feel better just for seeing you. Harriet, we mustn't let a silly disagreement get out of hand again.”

“I agree. I kept thinking to myself, what was that all about?”

“Harriet, I think I said something about who you should and shouldn't see. I apologise for that, I had no right to say it. Did you have lunch with Dale? How was it?”

“It was very pleasant Reggie. I'd like to have Dale as a friend, but you must know that he would only be a friend; he would never replace you in my heart, even if he wasn't gay.”

Reggie sat beside me on the couch and took my hand. “I know that, and I'm so lucky.” He looked down and said almost in surprise “You're wearing the ring I gave you.”

“Of course I'm wearing it! I wear it all the time except when I'm on-stage and then I lock it away in my dressing room.”

“Oh Harriet,” Reggie murmured and he kissed me tenderly. “I love you so much, I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I thought having a few drinks would ease the pain, but it made only made it worse.”

“You'll never lose me Reggie. I'll love you for ever. I was reading a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning which I'm sure she wrote to her future husband Robert.“

And with that I started to recite the poem, and I meant every word of it --

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints – I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! – and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death. ”

Reggie looked at me intently. “That's beautiful,” he said. “But it's almost frightening in its intensity. I'm not sure I deserve such love.”

“I don't want to scare you Reggie, but it's how I feel, it's how I've always felt about you from even before I knew who I was. As for deserving my love, yes you do in so many ways, and it's mine freely to give to you.”

“You say a woman who wrote the poem?” he asked.

“Yes, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She was a famous Victorian poet who eloped with and married the poet Robert Browning. I don’t think Elizabeth had a particularly happy life, other than her marriage to Browning. She had persistent ill health, maybe even tuberculosis; her father was over-bearing, he even disowned her following her marriage. Her poetry was very much admired though, and she was even considered as a candidate for poet laureate after Wordsworth died.

“It's funny,” Reggie said. “You look at those pictures of Victorian women in their heavy dark clothing, never smiling in case the photo was blurred because of the long exposures, and you never think that under it all beats a heart that could express such passion.”

“Well she did, and now here's a funny thing; I was reading her biography and she was a friend of Harriet Beecher Stowe, the woman people confuse my name with.”

Reggie smiled. “I think you're well on the way to becoming famous in your own right.”

I blushed, just as he intended. “Oh Reggie, you are a tease. Now how about I cook some breakfast?”

“I'd love some,” he said. “But how long are you here for, don't you have to get back to Stratford to perform tonight?”

“I spoke to Tony the director and he said I could miss a performance if I needed to, and Mary will play the part.”

“I'd love you to stay the night but I don't like the idea of you seeming to be unreliable this early in your career. What time would you have to leave in order to get back for the performance?”

“Well, I suppose I'd need to leave here about three o'clock,” I said.

“Well that's alright, it gives us plenty of time. I want you to be there for the evening performance. Will you do that for me Harriet?”

“Yes sir,” I said with a smile, and he hugged me.

I walked into the kitchen and found some eggs in the refrigerator. “How about I cook us an omelet?” I said. “And how about you drink some water to re-hydrate yourself?”

Reggie smiled, “Just having you here has made my headache start to fade, but I'll do as you say.”

As we ate our breakfast, I decided to discuss with Reggie something I'd been thinking of for a while.

“Reggie, I think this has all happened because we live so far apart and I don't want to risk it again, so I'm thinking that when you go to York University, that I'll see if there's a place for me back at the Apollo Players at Bridchester. Then I'll only be about an hour away from you.”

Reggie looked very serious. “I don't think you should do that Harriet. The fact is you've outgrown Apollo. It would be like a cricketer who has just made the test match team deciding to throw it all away and go back to district cricket. It just wouldn't work. Oh they'd welcome you back and you'd be the star, but you'd soon be dissatisfied with their standards, and they would get jealous of you hogging the limelight. Promise me you won't do that.”

I saw the sense in what he was saying. “But otherwise how can we see each other more often?”

“Well in Britain we are never more than a few hours apart, if it's by car, train or even aeroplane. There are plenty of people keeping up longer distance relationships than that. Imagine if we lived in America and you were on the west coast and I was on the east? Now that really would be a long way apart. No, I think the thing to do is that if we ever have a disagreement again, and let's face it we are human, that we should never part before it is resolved. What do you say?”

“I say that you are an incredibly intelligent and smart man and it's no wonder that I love you so much,” I replied.

The rest of our time together we spent like an old married couple pottering about. We did spend some time in bed together but we didn't make love, we just cuddled and held each other and it was so lovely. I knew Reggie still had a bit of a headache despite taking a few tablets and plenty of water, but he looked a lot better than when I had first seen him. When three o'clock came around, all too soon, I agreed with him that I should return to Stratford for the evening performance.

It was only then that I noticed he was limping slightly.

“Oh that,” he said. “I forgot to tell you. I sprained my ankle slightly during fielding practice , so I'm not playing this coming weekend. The finals are coming up and they want me one hundred percent fit for them. I could come up to Stratford for the weekend if you like?”

“If I like? Oh Reggie, of course I would like it, but only if you are not putting more strain on your ankle.”

“I need to do light exercise, so it's fine. In fact I've had an idea. Would you like to see if Dale can join us for lunch on Saturday and I can get to meet him?”

“That's a great idea,” I responded. “But Sunday is reserved for us two alone.”

He laughed. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

Before I left, I asked Reggie for John's number at the bank and rang him to find out how much I owed him for the taxi fare.

“How is he today?” asked John.

“Much better thank you. He's still got a bit of a headache but we've sorted things out. He'll be back at work tomorrow. I'll write out a cheque for him to give to you tomorrow, and thank you so much again for making sure he arrived home safely.”

He laughed. “You're most welcome. I'm glad you've sorted things out.”

--ooOoo--

My trip back to Stratford was such a contrast to my trip down. I rang Tony and Mary to tell them I was on my way. Mary asked if I had sorted things out and I assured her that all was now well, and when Tony asked, I told him that Reggie was feeling much better; different versions of the same event but both in their way true.

I felt like singing all the way back on the train. I arrived at Stratford just before six o'clock, in plenty of time for the evening performance, and it went very well since such a load had been lifted from my mind. I felt bad in a way that my return had prevented Mary for performing in the evening, so when I next had the opportunity to speak to Tony, the Director, I told him that I would not object if he let Mary perform one evening in place of me. His response surprised me.

“That's my decision to make Harriet, and I want you to continue with the evening performances. Mary does a good job in the matinees for which the tickets are cheaper, but although you may not realise it, you are getting a name for yourself, and the audience expects to see you perform just as much as they expect to see David, Dame Emily, and Sir John.”

I found myself blushing at his comments, and realised that to say anything further on the subject would only be counter-productive.

The next day I rang Dale and asked if he would like to come to lunch with Reggie and I on Saturday.

“That's really nice of you Harriet, but Frank is coming up to Stratford to see his parents, and me of course.”

“He's very welcome to come too if you like, but if you have something else planned, I totally understand,” I said.

“I'll ask him,” said Dale. “He loves theatre and when I told him about meeting you through the driving classes he was quite envious. Apparently he saw you in a play in London; he keeps all the programmes and checked that it was you. I know he'd love to meet you, so I'll get back to you on that.”

When Dale rang back, it was to say that Frank would love to come to lunch with us, so we organised to meet at a restaurant in Alveston, a few miles from Stratford. This was a wise move as Stratford is busy with tourists at the best of times and at weekends it gets really crowded.

“This is a long shot, but I don't suppose there's any chance you could get two tickets to Hamlet on Saturday evening? I tried and was told they are totally sold out,” he said.

“I will try for you,” I replied. “We do get returns and the box office will give priority to cast members if we want to buy them, but there is a hierarchy of course, and if for example David wanted some, he'd get priority over me.”

“I appreciate you trying,” said Dale. “I know that sometimes it's just impossible, and it is the hottest ticket in town after all.”

To be continued

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.

---

Chapter 7   Lunch with Dale and Frank

The following day I called at the box office and spoke to the manager, Shirley.

“Hello Harriet,” she said. “Everything going well?”

“Couldn't be better,” I said and indeed that was true since my trip to London. “I've come in search of 'hen's teeth' Shirley. A friend of mine and his partner are in Stratford this weekend; apparently he's a bit of a fan of mine, so if you do get any returns for Saturday I'd really appreciate them.”

Shirley grinned. “How do you cope with all these people waving autograph books at you?”

“Very well I hope,” I replied. “I try to never forget that they are paying my wages.”

The days passed by and no word from Shirley. Sadly it seemed that Frank was going to be disappointed. Then on Friday evening when I arrived at the theatre to prepare for the performance, I received word from Shirley.

“Harriet, are you the lucky one! I've had two seats returned for Saturday night. They're ten rows back in the stalls and just left of centre.”

“That's great Shirley, I'll let my friend know. How much are they?”

She told me the price which frankly I thought a little eye-watering, but I promised to get back to her and I rang Dale.

“Hi Dale, guess what? There's two tickets available in the stalls on Saturday night if you want them. The only thing is they are a bit expensive.”

When I told him the price there was a moment's pause and then he laughed.

“Well it will be worth it for the look on Frank's face when I tell him. Can you slip them to me at the lunch and I'll pick a suitable moment to reveal them. He will be impressed!”

I laughed. “Sure Dale. I'll pay for them and you can pay me later. No cast discount on these I'm afraid, they're too much in demand.”

“Harriet, I really really appreciate this. It will make our day.”

Reggie came up by train on Friday evening and called at the theatre to pick up the apartment key from me. When Mary arrived back after the performance, he was ready to cook us supper. I have to say there are not many men who are so thoughtful.

In bed that night, sensing that I was exhausted, as I often am after a performance, we just cuddled up together. It was wonderful to be sleeping with him again, and I always felt so rested when I awoke in the morning.

We pottered around in the morning, and then I dressed for lunch. The weather was still very warm, so I selected one of my summer dresses to wear with bare legs and sandals. Reggie complimented me on how I looked, and I must say he looked very dashing in grey flannel trousers, an open-neck shirt and a light brown sports coat.

We left for the restaurant at eleven o'clock. This time Reggie accepted my invitation to drive 'Bluebird' while I navigated. We arrived at the Baraset Barn about five to twelve and when we entered the dining room, Dale and Frank were already there. I introduced Reggie to Dale and they shook hands. Then Dale introduced Frank to me. He was very like the photo Dale had shown me, with a slight figure around five feet six inches, blond wavy hair and as I had previously noted, a face that with some makeup could pass as a girl any time. He shook my hand and his skin was soft like a girl's.

“It's such an honour to meet you Miss Stow. Dale has probably told you I'm a great fan of yours,” he said in a high tenor voice. I felt like saying”I'm only an actress Frank, not a brain surgeon.' but I didn't of course.

“It's a pleasure to meet you too, Frank, and please call me Harriet,” I said in reply. Looking at him I thought to myself 'I'd be amazed if you don't dress as a girl to go out with Dale when he meets you in London.'

We sat at the table, Frank opposite me, Reggie to my left and Dale to my right. While Reggie was discussing the menu with Frank, I slipped the small envelope with the tickets into Dale's hand, and he put them in his pocket. The waiter came to our table and we placed our orders.

“Are you in Stratford long?” I asked Frank.

“Just for the weekend, unfortunately. I came up to see my parents, and Dale of course, but on Monday I'm back to London and study. Did Dale tell you I'm studying accountancy?”

“Yes he did. I understand you are doing very well,” I replied. “Reggie will be going to York University to study economics soon.”

“Well it's a safe secure occupation. If I had your talent, I would have loved to be in the theatre, but I know acting is not as easy as it looks. I did act a little some years ago for an amateur group and it was quite a job learning all those lines.”

I smiled, as there didn't seem to be any call for a spoken response.

“Speaking of acting, I saw you in 'Dear Brutus' in London. What a wonderful production that was, and you stole the show at the end of Act Two. Dale's probably told you I love the theatre, in fact I would have loved to see the ISC's production of Hamlet, but I understand it's completely sold out.”

This was the cue for Dale to respond. “Well, you're right there Frank, but thanks to a friend in the production......” and here he pulled the tickets out of his pocket with a flourish.

“Dale! That's wonderful!” Franks voice went to an even higher pitch. “Did you manage to get them Harriet? Thank you so much!” Frank's enthusiasm was almost overwhelming.

“Yes, Harriet performed the miracle,” said Dale.

“But you thought to ask her Dale, that means so much to me,” said Frank, and if we hadn't been there I'm sure he would have kissed Dale. Reggie gave me a smile as if to say 'Goodness, he's quite a character.'

Just then waiter arrived with the entrées, and the conversation died down as we applied ourselves to the lunch, which I must say was excellent. Dale and Reggie got on famously; Dale it turned out was a cricket enthusiast and when he found out that Reggie was playing for the district side in Southgate, it was obvious that they could have talked cricket all afternoon. Frank on the other hand was only too happy to talk theatre with me. I was surprised at the depth of his knowledge and just how many productions he had seen.

“I can't imagine what it must be like to be on the same stage as David Lodge and Dame Emily,” he said.

“Well I can assure you I was in awe of them at the start. I still am to some extent, but I'm learning so much from them, and they really are the nicest people,” I replied.

“Well I'm going to buy a programme this evening of course , just as I always do. If I leave it with you, is there a chance you could get them to sign it for me, as well as yourself of course.”

“I'll see what I can do,” I replied. “If it's not too late for you, why don't you and Dale come around to my dressing room after the show? Reggie can come over too and we can all go out to supper afterwards.”

Frank beamed. It seemed I was making his day.

We didn't hurry over lunch, and it was about three o'clock when we finally got up from the table.

“I'll see you both this evening,” I said as we parted ways in the car park.

As we drove back, Reggie said “Surely both their parents must see that they're a couple?”

“Well if they don't they're either very dense or in denial,” I responded.

When we arrived back at the apartment, which we had to ourselves since Mary was performing in the matinee, I took off my dress and lay down for a siesta, joined by Reggie. He knows that I need a rest in order to prepare for the evening's performance, so we just lay together, his arm around me.

“Your breasts are really developing, Harriet, and your skin is becoming even softer,” he said. I was pleased to hear that. Detecting changes is difficult when they occur so slowly, but when Reggie didn't see me for a period of time, he noticed the difference.

“Dale is a really nice guy, I'm glad I met him,” said Reggie. “Will you be having lunch with him again? I think it would be nice if you did. I think it's good for you to have a male friend up here.”

“I'm so glad you two got on so well,” I responded. “I guess I could have lunch with him again sometime. Frank was a sweetie wasn't he? Those two are so much in love.”

"He must be your most enthusiastic fan, that's for sure," said Reggie.

"I'll try not to let it go to my head," I replied, smiling. "I'll see if I can do something special for him."

Reggie raised an eyebrow. "You'll see," was all I would say in reply.

“Do you think he dresses as a girl?” said Reggie.

“I think it's very likely,” I said. “He would make a very convincing one. He's prettier than me.”

“Now that's where I beg to differ,” said Reggie. “But in some ways you are right. Frank is pretty, but you are beautiful.”

Dear Reggie, he always says the right thing, well most of the time anyway.

When I reached the theatre that night, I remembered to obtain a copy of the programme, and made it my business to get every cast member to sign it for Frank. I wanted to make his day as perfect as possible, not just for his sake, but for Dale's too.

The performance went well as it usually did, and afterwards, Dale and Frank came around to my dressing room where Reggie was waiting outside the door while I changed. When I let them in, Frank was bubbling over with excitement.

“I just saw Dame Emily walking down the corridor. I said to her 'That was wonderful performance Dame Emily,' and she smiled and said 'Thank you'.”

“Speaking of which,” I said, reaching into a drawer, “Here is a programme for you signed by all the members of the cast.”

Frank looked like he was going to cry. “Thank you so much Harriet,” he said, and kissed me on the cheek. “I will treasure it always. I buy a programme at each play I go to and occasionally I get one or two signatures, but to have them all and for such a prestigious production, well, that is just amazing!”

With that, we headed off to the 'Oppo' Restaurant where I had booked a table. I had given them my name of course, and to my surprise they seemed to know who I was. I supposed I would have to get used to that.

It was well after midnight by the time we went our separate ways, after a very satisfying day, and if I mention that there was still more satisfaction to come when Reggie and I arrived back at the apartment, I don't think it's necessary to spell it out.

It was the final night of the Hamlet season. The house was packed, with not a single empty seat. There was even royalty in the Royal Box. The performance went without a hitch and at the conclusion when the cast lined up across the stage and Dame Emily and I were presented with bouquets of flowers, director Tony Robertson came on-stage to make a speech.

“Your Royal Highnesses, ladies and gentlemen. So ends a wonderful season of Hamlet. I may be considered biased since I directed it (laughter) but thanks to a stellar cast, including Dame Emily, Sir John McKenna (who had played Polonius), and David (applause) who we were thrilled to have onstage again in between their many television and film commitments, I can honestly say this is one of the best productions I have ever seen. (More applause) Of course the whole cast was exceptional. Our newest recruit, Miss Harriet Stow handled the difficult role of Ophelia with aplomb.”

Yet more applause and I flushed with pleasure, not expecting to be singled out, but there was more to come. Dame Emily stepped forward and whispered something in Tony's ear.

“Dame Emily has kindly reminded me that when she and her understudy were indisposed, Harriet Stow stepped in at very short notice to play Queen Gertrude while her understudy Mary Webb took over the role of Ophelia for two days. As the youngest two members of the cast, they certainly deserve recognition for that.”

There was more applause and some cheering. I'm sure my face could have cooked an egg. Dame Emily is amazing, who else would have thought to remind Tony of that? The only thing I regretted was that Mary, along with the other understudies was not on stage to hear it.

I confess that I was so affected that I can't really remember what else Tony said, but I'm sure he singled out some other cast members for special note, and finished by reminding the audience that the next production would be 'Twelfth Night' and that tickets 'are selling fast'.
“ 'The rest is silence',” he concluded. It wasn't of course. There was more cheering and a standing ovation which continued until the curtain finally came down, and the house lights were fully brought up.

After the performance there was the usual drinks and nibbles for the cast and crew. I didn't know if it was the right thing to do or not, but I did thank Dame Emily for her intervention in Tony's speech. “Everyone did such an amazing job, I only did what anyone would do,” I said.

“Ah my dear, but not many people could have done what you did. You have the most amazing memory and I've watched your acting develop even in the short time I've known you.”

I didn't know how to answer that, so settled for “Well thank you all the same Dame Emily. I understand you are going to do another film now?”

She smiled almost ruefully “Oh yes, all those early mornings and waiting around while someone moves a light. Think carefully before you go into films or television, Harriet.”

She knew I'd probably jump at the chance, but I committed to memory what she had said.

Following the closing of the 'Hamlet' season, Chris gave Mary and me a week off. Rehearsals had already started for 'Twelfth Night', but he said we deserved a break, but he would expect us to be 'off book' by the time we came back! We both decided to go up to Brid to visit our families and after discussion decided to each drive up in our own car as we might want to come back on different days. My intention was to stay in Brid until Friday and then drive back to Stratford to spend the weekend with Reggie. Mum and Emma were thrilled to hear that I would be coming to see them again. The last time had been on the first night of the 'Hamlet' season nearly three months previously. It had been quite a long run, extended of course due to 'public demand' and could probably have gone for longer except for Dame Emily and David having other commitments.

As for me, the season seemed to have flown by; in fact so had the year I had spent as Harriet, but my previous life seemed a dim and distant memory now, and certainly not one to which I had any intention of returning. Sometimes we get a second chance at life; this was mine and I had grasped it with both hands.

The next morning I spent packing clothes for the trip. I put my underwear and makeup into a small case, and selected some skirts and dresses which I left on their hangers. This would be my first long drive in 'Bluebird' and I decided that trousers and a cotton blouse together with flat shoes were suitable items to wear. I set off about ten o'clock, driving slowly and carefully, in fact too slowly for a couple of drivers who overtook me and gave me a blare of their horns to indicate their displeasure at losing a couple of seconds. I made no response, since I was aware that road rage can sometimes lead to violence.

I stopped a few times for a break and it was nearly four o'clock when I stopped the car outside Mum's house. I'm sure she must have been watching out for me as she opened the front door immediately and came down the path to greet me.

“Harriet, darling, it's so good to see you again,” she said as she gave me a hug.

“It's so good to be back in Brid and to see you too, Mum,” I said, and indeed it was. I was reminded of the words from an old Joni Mitchell song “You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone”. In this case it was me that had gone; things in Brid had stayed pretty much the same. One thing I was already learning was that you can't go back to the past because in the words of L.P. Hartley, “The past is a foreign country, they do things differently there.”.

To be continued.

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.

---

Chapter 8   A visit to Bridchester

Mum finally released me from her hug, and holding me at arm's length looked at me critically.

“Harriet, my dear, you look pale. Are you eating properly?”

I smiled at her. “My specialist Dr McLeish said the same thing, and you know what, you're both right. The only difference is that you've diagnosed me for free. I've had some blood tests done and my haemoglobin and iron levels are a bit low, so she's put me on iron tablets for a month and told me to more eat vegetables and fruit that are high in iron. I guess it will take a few weeks to make a difference.”

“I think what you need is some good home-cooked meals,” said Mum.

“Oh yes please!” was my response.

“Well, take your things upstairs and I'll see what I can do.”

“I think I might change Mum. Do you think I look a bit 'butch' in trousers?”

She laughed. “There are many adjectives that come to mind when I look at you Harriet, but 'butch' isn't one of them. Don't bother to change on my account. Emma has invited us around for lunch tomorrow so you might like to save a change of clothes until then.”

I took her at her word, and carried my suitcase and clothes up to my bedroom. It looked just as I'd left it and I remembered how delighted I had been when I returned from London while playing in 'Dear Brutus' and seen how Mum had arranged to turn it into a girl's bedroom. I still become quite emotional when I think of that.

After I freshened up my makeup, I went downstairs to the kitchen. I know there are people who enjoy eating in fancy restaurants where the portions are minuscule and the prices astronomical, but for me there is nothing like a home-cooked meal and the ones that Mum did are the best. She had cooked a lamb casserole with roast vegetables and the smell alone made my mouth water.

As we enjoyed the meal together, I brought her up to date on what had been happening in Stratford, including Mr Beams the driving instructor, and the reason I wore trousers for the drive up.

“He did me one good turn, in making me realise that in case of breakdowns, wearing trousers is far more practical. I suppose the second good turn was that because of his behaviour I got to meet Dale. It was through Dale that I bought 'Bluebird' at a really good price, so 'All's Well that Ends Well' “

Mum laughed. “You and your Shakespeare quotes. So what does Reggie think of you having Dale as a friend?” asked Mum. Sometimes I forgot how sharp she is.

“He's fine about it. I think it helps that Dale is gay. He has a really nice partner called Frank who works in London.”

“Yes, he's a charming young man,” said Mum, and in response to my quizzical look she said “He wrote me the most lovely letter and it was all about you.”

Now she really had me puzzled.

“How did he know where to write to?” I asked.

“Maybe he asked Dale or looked me up in the phone book. There's only one 'Stow' in Bridchester. He said you probably wouldn't mention it, and you haven't, so he wrote to tell me how you had managed to get tickets for Dale and him to see 'Hamlet', and also how you had given him a program with the signatures of all the cast. To crown it all, because they were invited down to your dressing room, he had the chance to exchange a few words with Dame Emily. You really made that young man's day. He said he'd never forget it.”

I was blushing by now of course. “Well it was something I was able to do, and I was happy to do it. You're right, Frank and Dale are both charming young men and I'm happy to have them as friends.”

The conversation turned to Emma and David and how they were going.

“Well, you'll see Emma tomorrow of course. David will probably be at the theatre, but he might make it home in time, or take a break. They are really looking forward to the baby arriving. They're so happy.”

I know it's silly, but every time I hear of someone having a baby I feel a momentary pang of disappointment that I'll never be able to do that. We can't have everything we'd like in life, but for woman of course, if she wants a child, being unable to have one is a great sadness.

Mum brought out the dessert which was apple strudel and cream, and despite having had a large plate of casserole, I was able to do justice to it.

“Given a few weeks here, we'd soon fix your anaemia,” said Mum. “By the way, how long are you staying?”

“I'll stay until Friday afternoon if that's alright, and then return to Stratford to see Reggie at the weekend. Then it's full-on rehearsing for 'Twelfth Night'.”

“It does sound like hard work,” said Mum. “Just so long as you are enjoying it.”

I smiled. “I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing,” I said.

Mum hesitated, and I could see there was something on her mind.

“I hope you don't mind me asking darling, but does anyone at Stratford know about your background?”

“No they don't. I didn't think it was necessary to tell them,” I replied.

“Do you think that's wise? Supposing someone found out and it got into one of those dreadful tabloid newspapers? I can't see the Imperial being very pleased.”

I confess I had never thought of it that way. Mum was probably right, as she usually was.

“I see what you mean, but supposing they sack me when I tell them?”

“I feel that's a risk you will have to take; and what about Dame Emily? She's your friend, shouldn't you tell her too?”

The next day we were going to see Emma for lunch. This time I did wear one of my summer dresses with bare legs and sandals, and Mum gave me the 'tick of approval'. Emma and David lived only five minutes away from Mum. When Emma opened the door, it was obvious that things had been developing while I was away. 'Bump' was much bigger, and when I pressed against her to give her a hug, I suddenly felt a punch in my stomach.

“Oh!” I gasped. “'Bump' kicked me!”

Emma laughed. “Yes, he, or she, had been doing quite a lot of that recently. I thought it was a girl, but now I'm wondering if it's a boy and he's going to be a footballer.”

“Well in that case he'll probably earns millions and keep you in the style to which you'll become accustomed.” We all laughed at that.

“I hope you don't mind me mentioning it, but you are looking a bit pale Harriet,” Emma said.

“Well, you're the third person to say that after Dr McLeish and Mum, but I am now on iron tablets and improving my diet, so I hope I will look healthier soon. But look at you! You're absolutely blooming,” I said.

Emma blushed slightly. “I'm feeling really good now. I just have to allow for my changing centre of gravity. Just a few months to go now.”

Emma had prepared a salad for lunch, and as women do, we chatted as we ate. I asked her opinion about me telling Dame Emily and the bosses at Stratford about my background. As I expected, she agreed with Mum.

I took a deep breath. “Alright, I'll talk to Dame Emily first. I'd prefer to see her face to face if possible, but she might be busy. I know she's back in London now and shooting another film.”

We didn't hurry over lunch and when we finally finished, Emma brought out the wedding photos.

“Oh Emma, they're wonderful,” I exclaimed. “You're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen.”

Emma laughed. “I think we all scrubbed up pretty well on the day. I'm going to order some more prints. Would you like some of you and Reggie?”

“Oh yes please,” I replied. “You must let me pay for them. I'd like some enlargements and I know they are expensive.”

About four o'clock Penny arrived home from school. She still seemed a little shy, but I smiled at her and asked her how she was and told her how pretty she looked in the wedding photos, and soon we were chatting away like old friends. Shortly afterwards David arrived home for tea in between a rehearsal and the evening's performance.

“Harriet! It's lovely to see you again. How are things in Stratford?” he asked, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Fine. We're rehearsing 'Twelfth Night' now,” I replied, thinking to myself 'Well, I hope I will be rehearsing 'Twelfth Night' after I tell them about me.' “And how are things going at Apollo?”

“Great. We're doing 'Look Back in Anger' at present, and it's doing really well. Do you have time to come and see a performance?”

“I'd love to,” I replied. “Has Mum seen it?”

“It's not really my sort of play darling, but you go along,” said Mum.

“How's Mary going at Stratford?” asked David. “Do you think she'll ever come back to Brid?”

“I believe she will, in fact if she hadn't been given the role of Maria in 'Twelfth Night', I think she'd be back already.”

I was pleased that he didn't ask me in front of Mum whether I would ever come back. I suppose the answer was obvious to everyone.

I did go to see the play two nights later, and it was a fine production. David seemed very pleased when I told him. It seemed that since joining the ISC, people were paying a lot of attention to my opinions, and I felt a bit of a fraud since my experience was still quite limited.

On Thursday evening I plucked up my courage and phoned Dame Emily. To be honest I was hoping she wouldn't answer, but she did.

“Harriet my dear, it's so nice to hear from you. How are things in Stratford?” she asked.

“Fine thank-you Dame Emily; I'm to play Viola in 'Twelfth Night' and my friend Mary who was my understudy has been given the role of Maria.”

“That's wonderful news,” she said.

“Yes it is,” I replied ,and I'm sure she could hear in my voice that all was not well. “Actually, if you have the time, there's something I'd really like to discuss with you, face to face if possible.”

“Well, you know I'm in London at present. Would you like to have tea with me next Sunday afternoon, say about three o'clock?”

She gave me the address of her London apartment and we rang off. I'm sure she was wondering what on earth was wrong, and I was also fairly sure that she had no idea what it was.

On Friday, after lunch, I kissed Mum goodbye and started the long drive back to Stratford. My mind was full of what I was going to say to Dame Emily, and I had to force myself to concentrate on the road. I was going to spend the weekend with Reggie, and we would still have some time together, but he understood that I really needed to see Dame Emily, and after I had seen her I would have to head back to Stratford.

I was only twenty minutes from Stratford when it happened. Approaching me in the distance was a big lorry, so I kept well over to the left, and then suddenly, to my horror, a red sports car appeared from behind it obviously intent upon overtaking. I was still a relatively inexperienced driver, so I probably lost a couple of seconds before it became apparent to me that there was no way it could pass the lorry and miss me. I did the only thing I could think to do and pulled over onto the gravel shoulder, at the same time stamping hard on the brake. 'Bluebird' began to skid sideways, and the last thing I remembered was seeing trees ahead and approaching rapidly, before there was a bang and then darkness.

To be continued.

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.

---

Chapter 9   The best laid schemes

“Are you alright miss?” The voice seemed to come from far away. I groaned and opened my eyes but could see nothing but greyness. I moved my head in the direction of the voice and realised that my face had been buried in the airbag. A bearded man was looking at me with concern.

“Are you alright?” he repeated. I tried to move my right arm and cried out with pain.

“I've phoned for the ambulance, police and fire brigade,” he said, his voice shaking. “I think you've broken your arm. You'd better sit still until they get here.”

I nodded and winced. My head was throbbing.

“That stupid idiot in the sports car,” the man burst out. “Well the police will get him. My lorry has a dashboard camera fitted. It will have recorded the whole thing, including his number plate.”

After about five minutes I could hear sirens in the distance, approaching fast. Then a new head appeared at the car window.

“I'm Steve, a paramedic miss. I'm told you may have broken your arm? Let me have a look please, I promise I'll be gentle.”

He was gentle, but the moment he touched my right arm a stab of pain made me cry out again.

“Right. I'll give you an injection to ease the pain while we get you out of there. The fire brigade will have to cut the door off.” He disappeared for a few moments and reappeared carrying a syringe and needle. “You'll feel a slight scratch,” he said.

He was right about the effect of the injection. Within a few seconds I started to feel like I was floating. Then another head appeared. “Right miss, I'm Geoff from the fire brigade. You're going to hear a noise as we cut the door to get you out. I'm going to put this fireproof blanket over you as there'll be sparks.”

A very loud grinding noise started beside me, and then suddenly the door was gone, crashing to the ground, and the paramedic and his assistant unclipped my seat belt and eased me out of the car and onto a stretcher which they lifted up and slid into the back of the ambulance. A cuff was put around my left arm and my blood pressure checked. They also shone a light into my eyes and asked me what my name was, and what was the day and date. For some reason I found difficulty in answering, but wondered if that was due to the pain injection.

“Right,” said Steve. ” I'm going to stay in the back with you while Sandy drives you to hospital. You've got a broken arm that will need setting, and you may have concussion, so they'll probably keep you in overnight for observation.”

“What's happening to 'Bluebird?'” I asked.

“'Bluebird?'” he queried.

“My car.”

“Oh, it's probably a write-off,” he said off-handedly.

My eyes filled with tears. “Is the pain bad?” Steve asked.

“No, it's my car. I know it sounds silly, but she's my first car and I hate the thought of her being wrecked.”

“Oh, I see. Well, perhaps she's not a total write-off. They may be able to repair her”

I could imagine what he was thinking 'Women! She's got a bump on the head and a broken arm and she's crying over her car. Whatever next?'

The ambulance started up and as we moved down the road I could hear the siren wailing. It was about a ten minute drive to the hospital and by the time we arrived my head was starting to clear. Steve and Sandy wheeled me into the Emergency Department and at the direction of one of the nurses, into a cubicle where they transferred me onto a hospital trolley.

“Thanks Steve and Sandy, you've been very kind and caring,” I said before they disappeared.

“Our pleasure,” Steve smiled. “You take care now.” And then they were gone.

I suddenly realised that the hospital staff would probably want to undress me if I was staying in overnight, and that was going to lead to a surprise. When one of the nurses came in to start taking my details and doing her observations, I said “I'm sorry to be a nuisance but would you mind asking the Charge Nurse to come in to see me? I have something important to tell her.”

She looked at me a little strangely, but did as I asked, and a few minutes later an older woman appeared beside my trolley. Fortunately the Department seemed fairly empty, so I hoped what I had to tell her would not be overheard.

“Now Miss Stow, I'm Charge Nurse Atkins, what can I do for you?” she said briskly.

“Thank you for coming to see me Nurse Atkins,” I said. “I need to inform you that I am transgendered and currently transitioning from male to female. However I have not yet had surgery. I'm sure I can rely on your discretion, as it's important to me that my status be kept confidential.”

Nurse Atkins looked a bit surprised at my statement. “Of course,” she said. “Patient confidentiality is treated very seriously here. I will make sure that one nurse looks after you and I'll impress that upon her, not that I think it will be necessary. All the staff here know the rules.”

“Thank you,” I said. There was nothing more I could do of course, except hope that everyone there did follow the rules. The last thing I wanted was to feature in a sensational headline - particularly before I had notifed the people I wished to inform. How I wished that I had spoken to Dame Emily a few weeks earlier. I was put in mind of that famous couplet by Robert Burns

'The best laid plans o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley.'

Shortly afterwards a petite young Asian woman came through the cubicle curtains.

“Hello, I'm Doctor Lim. I understand you've been in a car accident and I've come to check you over.”

This she did with commendable thoroughness, and at the end said “Well, we'll have to set your arm and put it in plaster, and we'd like you to stay in overnight in case you've had concussion. Do you know if you lost consciousness?”

“Yes I believe I did,” I replied. “I don't think it was for very long, as the lorry driver stopped his vehicle and came over to see me just as I woke up.”

“Keeping you in is just a precaution, but it's better to be safe than sorry,” said Dr Lim.

“Do you mind if I ring my flatmate and also my family to tell them what's happened?” I said.

“Not at all. You seem quite clear in your mind now,” she said.

I rang the apartment first and Mary answered. I put her in the pictures and said “I should be discharged tomorrow, all being well, but I think I'll have to stay in Stratford for the weekend. I don't think I should be travelling down to London as I had planned.”

The next person to ring presented a problem. Should I ring Mum, or ring Emma and ask her to ring Mum for me? I didn't want either of them to stress. I finally decided on ringing Emma.

“Hello Harriet, are you back in Stratford?” she said.

“Well yes and no,” I replied. “An idiot in a sports car ran me off the road and into a tree, and as a result I'm in hospital with a broken arm and possible concussion, although I'm feeling alright. My poor 'Bluebird' was more damaged than me. I don't want you or Mum to stress, but I thought you needed to know. I'll ring Mum now and tell her, just so she hears my voice and knows I'm alright. She may want to come down and see me. Do you feel able to drive her down, or would the train be better?”

“I'll speak to her and David,” replied Emma. “When do you think they'll let you out?”

“They want to keep me in overnight and they have to set and plaster my arm of course. All being well, I can go back to the flat tomorrow. I was going to London for the weekend, but I don't think I can do that now. I'll let Reggie know. I was going to see Dame Emily too, but I'll have to ring her instead.”

After a few more exchanges, I hung up and then rang Mum and explained the situation to her. Naturally she was upset, although I think she was reassured when she heard my voice. She said she would ring Emma and work out something because of course she wanted to see me.

My next call was to Reggie to fill him in on the situation, and how I couldn't come to London. He was playing in a cricket final on Saturday, so said he would come up to see me on Sunday. I tried to tell him there was no need and we could talk on the phone, but he insisted. 'Goodness me, having a car accident really causes a lot of problems,' I thought to myself.

By now I was feeling rather tired, and wouldn't have minded a snooze, but the Charge Nurse appeared around the cubicle curtains again and told me that a policeman had arrived and wanted to take a statement from me about the accident.

“Do you want to see him now, or should I tell him to come back tomorrow?”

“I suppose I'd better see him now,” I replied.

“Very well,” she said and disappeared around the curtain.

A minute or so later a young constable stuck his head around the curtains, paused and said “Miss Stow?”

“Yes, come in Constable,” I said.

“I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to take a statement about the accident. Are you up to doing that now?” he asked.

So, I went through all that I remembered, mentioning that the lorry driver had told me that he had recorded the whole incident. Constable Harrison took notes while I was describing what happened.

“Yes, we've spoken to him and taken his video recording so that we can view the incident and contact the driver of the sports car. I'll arrange to have your statement typed up and you will need to sign it. Can you call at the Stratford Police Station in the next few days?”

“Yes, I'm sure I can,” I replied. “With luck they'll let me go home in a day or so. Are you going to charge the sports car driver?”

“We may, depending on the vision. Thank you Miss Stow,” he said and withdrew.

By now I was feeling rather tired, and the nurse came in to tell me they were going to do an x-ray of my arm before taking me to theatre to set the broken bone. She helped me undress and made no comment, nor paid any special attention to my body as she helped me put on a cotton nightdress. She managed to get my right arm in without it causing me too much discomfort. An orderly arrived to wheel me into the Radiology Department where several images were taken of my arm, and then it was back to Emergency.

Dr Lim came in again to tell me that I would be having a closed reduction of the ulna, since it was only broken in one place and hadn't pierced the skin, and that it would be done under local anaesthetic. She gave me a sedative injection and once more I felt like I was floating as they wheeled me into theatre. The whole procedure didn't seem to take very long, although I wasn't really aware of time passing, and after it was over, I was taken to one of the wards and transferred to a bed.

Mary had come to the hospital and was waiting in the ward when I arrived there. She sat by the bed for a few minutes, but I don't think I was keeping up much of a conversation as I was so tired and still feeling the effects of the sedative, so after a while she said she would go back to the flat, but would check in the morning and take me back there if I was discharged. I did manage to thank her for her kindness before she left, and only a few minutes after that I was asleep.

When I awoke, it was morning. Hospitals are often not the easiest of places to sleep, with the strange surroundings and noises during the night, but in my case the sedative and exhaustion had worked to keep me virtually comatose until the ward started stirring at seven o'clock, and I had my 'obs' taken.

Having last eaten at Bridchester the previous day, I was ready for breakfast, and even the inconvenience of only having the use of my left hand was no bar to my consuming everything on my tray.

Shortly afterwards, another doctor appeared and announced himself as Dr Lambert.

“I set your arm last night,” he said. “You might not remember me as you were pretty out of it.”

He examined his handiwork and pronounced himself satisfied.

“I think you can go home this morning. Is there anyone who will be available to look after you?”

“Yes, I have a flatmate and I think my mother will be coming down from Bridchester as well,” I replied.

Shortly afterwards, a nurse came in to announce that Mary had rung and upon being told I could go home, said she would be there about nine-thirty and would be bringing me a change of clothes. She turned up right on time, and helped me to put on the clothes she had brought.
An appointment had been made for me to return to Outpatients in a few days to have my arm checked and I was warned to return at any time if I felt excessive pain or was worried at all.

I thanked all the staff, and was taken out the car in a wheelchair with Mary walking beside me, my arm feeling very strange in the plaster and a sling. I felt like an invalid as Mary helped me into the car and put on my seat belt, but I really appreciated how solicitous she was for my welfare. My phone rang as we drove back to the apartment. It was Emma to say that she was driving down with Mum and should arrive in a few hours.

When we arrived at the flat, Mary helped me get out of the car, and sat me down in the lounge while she went to make some tea. I told her I had to ring Dame Emily to say I couldn't come to see her on Sunday, so she tactfully left me alone to make the call. To be honest I wasn't looking forward to making it. The accident had made me realise that I would have to tell her my 'secret' over the phone, rather than face to face as I had intended, and I hoped she would not be too shocked.

“Dame Emily, it's Harriet,” I said when she answered the phone. “I'm sorry but I won't be able to come and see you tomorrow as I've been in a car accident.”

“Oh my dear, are you alright? What happened?” she replied.

“Someone was overtaking a lorry as it came towards me and I had to run off the road to avoid hitting them head-on, but I skidded into a tree and my right arm was broken. I was unconscious for a bit so they kept me in hospital overnight while they set and plastered the arm and made sure I didn't have concussion.”

“Oh dear, that does sound serious,” she replied.

“I was lucky it wasn't worse, but it made me realise that I really need to talk to you, and since it can't be face to face, I hope you don't mind if we do it over the phone.”

“Of course you can. Please tell me all about it.”

“It's a difficult thing to say, Dame Emily. In my mind I'm sure I'm the same person I was when I was born, but the fact is that my body was that of a boy and I was christened Harry, well actually Harold, after my father. It was only after I stepped in to play Margaret in 'Dear Brutus' and afterwards at Sir Edgar's insistence had to live as a girl full-time when the production transferred to London that I realised that this was who I was meant to be.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone, so to fill it I went on.

“I'm truly sorry I didn't tell you before. I didn't mean to be deceptive, even if it looks that way. The chance to play in Stratford was so wonderful, it never occurred to me that I should tell you about my past, but after discussing it with Mum and Emma, I realised that some day it might come out, and I really should be up front, both with you and the Company, no matter what the consequences are.”

“Well Harriet, I have to say that it comes as rather a shock,” she replied. “In my long career in the theatre, I've occasionally seen young men play female parts but no matter how well they did it, I could always tell, but I never had the slightest inkling that you were not a young woman.”

I was afraid she would react that way, but I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised.

“But that's it Dame Emily, I am a young woman, and always have been. It's not a part I'm acting.”

“I'm sorry my dear, I didn't express myself very well then, in fact I expressed myself very badly. I can always tell when someone is acting, and you certainly aren't. You are who you say you are,” she replied. “So now you've told me, what happens next. Are you going to tell them at the ISC?”

“Yes, I feel I must, even though I suppose there's a good chance they will sack me,” I replied and she could probably hear the misery in my voice.

“Not necessarily,” she replied. “After all, they are an equal opportunity employer, as indeed they have to be. If they refused to employ gay or lesbian actors, quite a few famous names wouldn't be appearing there, so I don't see why being transgendered should make a difference. They might be upset that you didn't tell them though.”

“I realise that,” I replied. I was doing my best not to cry. “If I lose my position, it's my own fault.”

“Would you like me to speak to them on your behalf?” she said.

“Would you? That would be so kind, especially after me not telling you.”

She laughed. “You're very young Harriet, and we all make mistakes when we're young, and even when we are older. I can't guarantee anything of course, but I'll put in a good word for you and we'll see what happens.”

“Thank you so much Dame Emily, I really appreciate it,” I replied.

“You're very welcome my dear, and the next time you're in London I hope you will visit me and we'll have that afternoon tea together.”

What can I say about Dame Emily that hasn't already been said? Not only is she a fine actress, but she's a wonderful human being as well. She could have been very angry about my revelation and refused to have anything further to do with me, but instead she offered to help me. Even now the thought makes me tear up.

When Mary came back into the room bearing a cup of tea, she could see I'd been crying and was full of concern.

“Bad news?” she enquired.

“On the contrary, she not only forgave me for not telling her sooner, she offered to put in a good work for me at the Company,” I replied.

“I'm sure they'll forgive you too,” she said. “Where else would they get such a good young Shakespearean actress?”

'I wish I shared your confidence' I thought to myself.

“What's happened to your car?” she enquired.

“I really don't know. I've found a card from Ensign Towing in my handbag, although I have no memory of being given it. I presume that's where it's gone, but I'm glad the tow truck guy didn't ask me what to do about it, as I was in no fit state to make a decision then and there.

“Why don't you ring Dale and ask him if he can see about it for you?”

“I don't really like to, I'm sure he's busy.”

“Harriet, when will you let people help you?” she responded, sounding a bit exasperated.

“Sorry Mary, you are right, there's such a thing as being too independent.”

When I rang Dale he was very concerned to hear about my accident. I reassured him I was going to be alright and explained the situation about 'Bluebird'. He was of course more than happy to help.

“The paramedic said she was a 'write-off', but when he saw how upset I was, then he said 'maybe not', so I don't know where I stand, but if she can be saved I'd prefer that to happen,” I said.

“You leave it to me,” he replied. “I'll go down there and talk it over with them, and also ring the insurance company.”

“Thank you so much Dale. That's one less thing I have to worry about,” I said. Of course he wasn't to know what was chiefly occupying my mind.

About an hour later Mum and Emma arrived. They both looked very concerned and hugged me very carefully, avoiding my right arm.

“I'm going to be fine Mum, Emma,” I said. “But it's still lovely to see you both.”

“Well we had to reassure ourselves that you are going to be alright,” said Mum.

Mary appeared then. “Can I get us all some lunch?” she asked.

“That will be lovely,” said Mum.

“I'm afraid it will have to be soup and sandwiches. I haven't been out shopping and the fridge is a bit bare,” Mary apologised.

“Whatever you do will be fine, and thank you for offering,” said Emma.

We enjoyed our lunch and chatted about the new play.

“I'm so glad you were given a part, Mary,” said Emma.

“Well, that's partly due to Harriet,” said Mary. “She told me that a part, even if it's smaller one is better than just being an understudy.”

“And she's right of course,” said Emma. “If you come back to Brid, think of all the experience you will bring back with you.”

“Yes, I've been thinking about that,” said Mary. “I really do miss everyone at Brid, and I think this might be my last role in Stratford.”

Not so long before, that statement would have really upset me, but now I was starting to realise that I couldn't order peoples' lives around just to suit myself. Mary would move on and so must I.

Emma glanced at her watch, and said “Well Mum, now we've reassured ourselves that Harriet will be alright, I think we had better start back to Brid.”

“Must you go back today?” I asked, suddenly full of concern. “That's a lot of driving in one day for someone in your condition. I saw you stifle a yawn just now. Won't you consider staying overnight? I can easily book you into a hotel.”

Emma looked at Mum for her opinion. “Maybe Harriet's right, dear. You do look a bit tired and it is a long way,” Mum said.

Emma gave in. “Alright, I'll ring David and tell him we're staying here and driving back tomorrow morning.”

I felt a great sense of relief. The last thing I wanted was for them to risk having an accident themselves. I rang a local hotel and booked a room with two single beds. “We can have breakfast together before you go home tomorrow,” I said. It turned out both Mum and Emma had brought an overnight bag with them 'just in case I was bad enough that they had to stay'.

The following morning, I took a taxi to the hotel where they were staying and we had breakfast together before they started out for Bridchester. On the way, they dropped me off back at the flat. Reggie was arriving shortly and I wanted to make sure the place looked tidy, although it was tricky doing things with only one hand. He arrived just after ten o'clock and gave me a careful hug.

“I was so worried when I heard about your accident, what happened?”

So I had to explain the circumstances all over again.

“Is the guy going to be charged with dangerous driving?” he asked.

“I really don't know. The lorry driver said he had video of the whole thing, so I suppose it's up to the police.”

A thought suddenly struck me. “I wonder if I'll be called upon to give evidence? As you know I changed my name by Statutory Declaration so it's now legally my name, but I wonder if that applies to taking an oath in a court of law? I”d better find out.”

Seeing that I was suddenly worried, Reggie suggested “Maybe you could dress in trousers with a jumper, flat shoes and no make-up? They might think you are just an effeminate man?”

“Hmmm. I'll have to cross that bridge if and when I come to it, but that's good thinking. Thank you Reggie.”

We enjoyed a lovely day together, and the night wasn't too bad either! Lying on my left side I kept pressure off my broken arm, but we still managed to get intimate. Dear Reggie. I missed him so much when I didn't see him for a while.

He was up early to get the five-thirty train back to London, insisting on getting his own breakfast so that I could have a few more hours of sleep.

As I was having breakfast my telephone rang. “Miss Stow? It's Penelope Lane here, Mr Morgan's secretary.” A shiver ran through me. Duncan Morgan was the Executive Director at the ISC, there's no-one more senior at the Company. I knew immediately that Dame Emily must have telephoned him. It looked like my 'moment of truth' was coming sooner than I thought.

“Mr Morgan would like to see you this morning. Can you be here by ten o'clock?”

To be continued.

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.

---

Chapter 10   An interview

Duncan Morgan, Executive Director of the ISC wanted to see me at ten o'clock. It might have been politely phrased, but nobody turns down a request from the E.D., and especially not a junior member of the company.

“Of course I'll be there, Miss Lane,” I replied. I knew that only a few close friends called her 'Penny'. Her parents had been Beatles fans, and I'm not sure if she had forgiven them for choosing her name.

Mary looked across the table at me. “You've gone pale Harriet, what's happened?”

“I've been summoned to see Mr Morgan, the E.D. I don't even know where the Administration offices are. I'd better get there early.”

My next task was to chose what to wear. I wanted to look feminine without going over the top. Even if he wasn't consciously aware of it, I know that Duncan Morgan would be looking for any sign that I had once been a male. I decided on a slightly flared black skirt with a hem just below the knee, which I would wear with stockings and three inch courts. I would wear a silk shirt over my bra and camisole, wear my hair up and be sparing with the make-up. The effect should be 'office secretary' but feminine, certainly not 'dizzy actress'.

Getting dressed while sporting a broken arm is not easy, and Mary helped me with buttoning up my shirt, and also with my hair. I could manage my make-up even though I'm not left-handed. When we were finished, she looked at me approvingly.

“That's exactly the right look, Harriet. You've really developed a great fashion sense. It takes most women many years, and some never achieve it all all, but you've nailed it in less than two years.”

I felt myself blushing with pleasure. “Thanks Mary, you're a real pal.” I nearly commented about missing her when she left, but decided I mustn't.

We arrived at the Stage Door at nine forty-five; I asked Norm the doorman how to get to Mr Morgan's office, and arrived there with five minutes to spare. Miss Lane looked at me approvingly, well at least I thought so.

“Someone's in with him but he shouldn't be too long,” she said, indicating a seat for me. The minutes crawled by and I was getting more nervous as each one passed. It was ten past when the door finally opened and who should come out but David Lodge, still talking to the man who followed him. Then he turned and saw me and looked surprised.

“Harriet! What are you doing here, and what's happened to your arm?” he said, his voice changing for laughter to concern.

“A car accident,” I replied. “I was run off the road and hit a tree.”

“That's no good. I hope it heals soon,” he said, and turning to Duncan Morgan he said “You've got a star in the making here Duncan, look after her.” With that he was gone. It was like a whirlwind leaving the room and all three of us watched as the door closed behind him. Then Duncan Morgan seemed to recollect himself and said “Would you step into my office please, Miss Stow?” and I followed him through the door.

“Take a seat please young..err Miss Stow,” he said as he seated himself behind his desk. I sat on the seat he indicated and resisted the urge to cross my legs. That might indicate I was relaxed, which I certainly didn't feel, and it might also show too much leg.

“We haven't met, but I saw you in Hamlet, a very impressive performance,” he said. “Well now, as I'm sure you know, I've had a telephone call from Dame Emily Good, and she told me that she had your permission to tell me about your background.”

There was a moment's silence, and it seemed to me a response was called for.

“I am privileged to consider Dame Emily a friend and mentor,” I replied. “I now feel that I should have told her of my background earlier. My mother and elder sister both agreed on that. I should have let the Company know too.”

“Yes, it would have been good to know. As I'm sure you know, we are an 'equal opportunity' employer. That means we do not discriminate against anyone on the basis of age, ethnicity or gender. In recent years this particularly applies to the LGBT community.”

“Yes, I understand that, and that's why I'm sorry for not being open from the start. Initially I thought it didn't make a difference, but on reflection I can see there could be circumstances where I might be an embarrassment to the Company, and I wish to apologise for that. If you feel that it would be difficult for me to continue here, then of course I will tender my resignation.” To my horror, a single tear ran down my cheek. “I'm sorry, Mr Morgan,” I said as I hastily took a handkerchief from my hand bag and dabbed at my cheek. “You may think I'm acting. I suppose you see it all the time, but I mean what I say.”

“Now let's not be too hasty young lady. Yes there could have been embarrassment if someone from the press rang up and we hadn't have known about you, but now we can truthfully say 'Of course we knew, what of it?' I would however offer you some advice. I'm assuming you intend to live your life permanently as a woman? (I nodded) As your career advances and you become better known, there may well come a time when someone delves into your background. For that reason it might be better if you reveal it yourself. Of course it will cause some publicity, but it will be a 'one day wonder' and then be rapidly forgotten. If possible pick a 'big news' day when it will be largely overlooked.

“For some reason the tabloids in particular seem to think they are entitled to know everything that anyone well-known wants to conceal, and they will hound you with lurid headlines if you try to keep a secret, making all sorts of unfounded insinuations. I know what you're thinking, and yes, I don't know how they can live with themselves either, but that's how it is.”

To my surprise, he stood up. It seemed the interview was over.

“Thank you for being so understanding Mr Morgan,” I said as I rose to my feet.

“You are most welcome Miss Stow,” he said. “I look forward to seeing your career progress. David certainly believes you will go far, and I see no reason to doubt him.”

I flushed with pleasure as he walked to the door and held it open for me. He's a true gentleman. So after all that worry, it seemed I wasn't sacked after all, and I could now go down to the rehearsal. I almost skipped down the corridors as I made my way to the auditorium to tell Mary.

When I arrived there, it was to find her on-stage with the two actors who were playing Sir Toby Belch and Sir Andrew Aguecheek. Half-way back in the stalls I saw Scarlett Mitchell sitting and watching the rehearsal. She had been given the role of Olivia as I knew she would be, but I hadn't met her yet, so I thought I would go up and introduce myself.

“Hi Scarlett, I'm Harriet Stow,” I said in a low voice.

“Hello Harriet, it's nice to meet you,” she replied in a low and quite thrilling voice. She was so beautiful that she made me feel quite plain beside her.

“Congratulations on getting the part,” I said. “I'm sure we will be seeing a lot of each other over the coming months.”

To my surprise, she raised an eyebrow, and I suddenly realised that my remark could have been taken in a way I hadn't intended. Naturally enough I blushed, and hoped that the auditorium light was too dim for her to notice, a forlorn hope I'm afraid. Thankfully she seemed to understand my embarrassment and changed the subject.

“Mary's very pretty,” she said, looking at the stage. “I understand you share a flat. Is she your girlfriend?”

“Well she's a girl and my friend,” I replied. “But she's not a girlfriend in that sense; we both have boyfriends.”

“Sure you do,” Scarlett responded, then mischievously added “In other words you've never been in bed together.”

There was no hiding my blushes this time. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I was teasing you.”

“There was storm one night and she was scared,” I whispered back, although why I felt the need to explain my embarrassment I don't know.

Remember, at that time of my life I was nineteen and had a lot to learn. Of course I had heard of women who preferred relationships with women, but the stereotype in my mind was of women with short hair and no makeup, wearing trousers and sensible shoes. Looking at Scarlett with her long curls, perfect makeup, a pretty dress and heels, she didn't meet any of these criteria, yet I gained the distinct impression from her remarks that this was where her inclinations lay. I wondered if I should say anything to Mary, but thought it might be better if I didn't.

There was a moment's silence, so to fill it I said “Scarlett is a pretty name.”

She smiled. “Mum loved 'Gone with the Wind', and when she met and married my father John Mitchell, and then had me, well naming me was a foregone conclusion I guess.”

I laughed out loud, and Chris Johnson turned with an exasperated look on his face. “Could you be quiet in the stalls please?”

“Sorry,” I called back, and from then on was quiet as a church mouse.

After the scene on stage finished, Chris called up Scarlett and I to run through the first meeting of Olivia and Cesario. Scarlett took along her book, although she hardly referred to it. I didn't really need mine but thought it might be diplomatic if I carried mine too. We ran through the scene and it went quite well for the first rehearsal. She was definitely a very competent actress.

'Twelfth Night' has eleven male rôles plus some non-speaking parts, and only three female rôles, so it seemed natural that we three women would stick together, and it was also necessary that we get on well. I was sure Scarlett and I would, provided she realised that I was only interested in a professional relationship. As we left the theatre after the rehearsal, Scarlett asked Mary and I if we would like to have coffee. I would like to have declined as it was my habit to go back to the flat for a siesta before the evening performance of 'Hamlet', but when Mary said 'yes' to the suggestion, I felt obliged to go along too. Perhaps I was being over-protective of Mary, but I didn't want to leave her alone with Scarlett so soon after meeting.

We enjoyed our coffee and chat at a local café, and the conversation ranged over a number of topics including 'Twelfth Night'. I noticed a few of the other patrons looking at us, or perhaps more particularly at Scarlett; she certainly had that 'actress' look.

“So this is your first comedy Harriet?” asked Scarlett.

“Yes, my rôles to date are fairly limited, so it will be a great learning experience. Have you performed Shakespearean comedy?”

“Yes, I have played Titania in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' in Manchester. It was a good production, but coming to Stratford is a big step up for me, and I'm looking forward to performing with these famous actors – and you two of course.”

“I hope you will not find us 'rude mechanicals',” I remarked – referring to the 'amateur actor rôles' in 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' who perform a play very badly.

Scarlett laughed. “You certainly know your Shakespeare. Have you seen the play?”

“Only a television production I'm afraid. But I am a Shakespeare junkie.”

“Well you're in the right place,” she laughed and we both joined her.

Thankfully it was Mary who then said she was feeling a little tired and did Scarlett mind if we called it a day?

“Well I hope we can do this again.” said Scarlett. “With all those men around, we women must stick together.”

Back at the flat, Mary said “What do you think of Scarlett?”

“She seems very nice, and she is very pretty,” I responded. It seemed a rather banal response, even to me, but I didn't know what else to say.

“Yes, she's all that, but she's also had more experience than us, so I'm sure there are things we can learn from her,” said Mary.

Once I was back in my bedroom, I took off my dress and lay on my bed for a rest, but then remembered what I wanted to do, and reaching for my phone, dialed a number.

“Emily Good,” said the familiar voice.

“Dame Emily, it's Harriet Stow here. I just wanted to thank you for phoning Mr Morgan. I had an interview with him this morning and he was very kind and understanding. Best of all, I still have a job with ISC.”

Dame Emily laughed. “I'm so glad for you my dear, not that I ever doubted his response. No doubt he told you that they are an 'equal opportunity' employer, as indeed they have to be if they want the best actors.”

“It was still very kind of you, and I really appreciate it.”

“So when are you next in London? You can come and have tea with me,” she asked.

“I am down there next weekend,” I replied. “I'm making the most of my free weekends while we are in rehearsal.”

“Why don't you come around at three o'clock on Sunday then?” she said.

“Thank you, Dame Emily,” I replied. “I look forward to it.”

After I put down the phone I suddenly realised that I had 'double-booked' myself. I was travelling down to London late Friday afternoon to spend the weekend with Reggie, and would stay with him on both Friday and Saturday nights. He was playing in the final of the local district cricket association, which was a two day match. It would be his last match with them. I would go to the ground for the whole day on Saturday of course, and I hoped he wouldn't be offended if I watched the match on Sunday morning but left early. I felt obliged to keep my appointment with Dame Emily, especially now I had agreed to it, and of course I did feel very grateful for her help with my position at ISC.

The following day I had a telephone call from Dale.

“I've been on the phone to your insurance company and also had a look at 'Bluebird',” he said. “The good news is that mechanically there's very little wrong and the panel damage is mainly confined to the driver's side door area. In short, she can be repaired.”

“That's wonderful news Dale,” I replied.

“There is a downside,” he went on. “You did decided to pay an excess in order to lower the premium. That means you will have to pay the first £500 of the repair costs.”

I gulped. That would put quite a dent in my savings, but after all it had been my choice and I would get 'Bluebird' back.

“Thanks Dale, I'll just have to 'cop it sweet',” I said, putting on a phony American accent. He laughed.

“She should be ready for you in about two weeks.”

The following day I went to the hospital Outpatients' Department to have my arm checked. All was well, I had no real pain and my temperature was normal, so no sign of infection. I enquired how long my arm would have to be in a cast and was told around four or five weeks if all went well. That wasn't good news.

The next opportunity I had, I discussed it with the Director Chris Johnson.

“I appreciate that I can't very well have my arm in a modern cast while wearing Elizabethan costume,” I said. “If you need me to stand aside from the rôle, I will understand.”

“I've been thinking about that,” he replied. “Of course people broke bones in Elizabethan times too, perhaps more often even than nowadays, with falling off horses and that sort of thing. Viola was in a shipwreck too. I've done some research and it seems they immobilised limbs and used slings much as we do today. I'll discuss it with makeup and see if they can do something to make the cast look like something someone might wear from that period. How does that sound?”

“That's a brilliant solution,” I replied. 'It will certainly make this production unique.”

To be continued.

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.