---

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.

---

Chapter 11   Double booking

I took my packed suitcase to the theatre, so that I could go to the railway station as soon as the rehearsal finished. Mary kindly drove me to the station and I took the train to London and then the tube out to Southgate. For once, Richard was at home too, so the three of us sat down to an evening meal that Reggie cooked.

That night we slept together of course, since Richard was well aware of our relationship, although he didn't know about my past. I was content for us to cuddle, since the cricket final commenced on the following day, and there was no way that I would risk Reggie being seen to be overly tired on a weekend when he was expected to be at his best. This would be his final match with the club, since by the next season he would be studying in York, so this made the weekend doubly important.

I still hadn't found a suitable moment in which to confess my foolishness in committing to afternoon tea with Dame Emily at the same time that Reggie expected me to be at the cricket match. I suppose I was hoping for a miracle. Perhaps the match would finish early and I could leave with a clear conscience. Sadly, things don't always turn out as you wish. The side they were playing against, Edmonton, were no push-over. They batted first, and despite some excellent fielding and bowling, including a brilliant catch from Reggie, and later his throw that rattled the stumps at the bowler's end, leaving the batsman well short of his crease, they set Southgate a target of 284 runs to win on the second day. Even with my limited knowledge of cricket, I could see that a win would be difficult and Southgate might have to settle for a draw.

That evening, I bit the bullet and confessed to Reggie that I had stupidly committed myself to visiting Dame Emily for afternoon tea on the Sunday.

“I am so sorry Reggie. I shouldn't have told her that I was in London this weekend. Now I feel obliged to go because she was so kind in putting in a good work for me at Stratford.”

“It's alright, really,” he said, but I could see from the look on his face that he was really disappointed.

“I'll come back afterwards,” I said. “The match may still be going.”

“No, you should go back to Stratford, rather than be racing around all over London. You'll be exhausted by Monday.”

I felt really bad, especially after the recent hiccup in our relationship. Why couldn't I have engaged my brain before opening my mouth while talking to Dame Emily?

On Sunday, I walked to the cricket ground with Reggie and watched the morning session. Reggie was batting at number four, which meant he took the field after the first two wickets had fallen. By then, Southgate had scored just over one hundred, and I thought it quite likely that they would win. However, an hour after lunch two more wickets fell while Reggie had scored nearly forty runs, and I needed to leave in order to arrive at Dame Emily's flat by three o'clock.

I had brought one of my prettiest dresses down to wear on my visit to Dame Emily's flat. I really didn't know quite what to expect when I arrived, complete with a small posy of flowers in one hand, and the handle of my suitcase in the other. I wondered if she might even have a maid, but that thought was immediately extinguished when Dame Emily herself opened the door. Her flat, which was located in Hampstead, was on the ground floor of a three storey Edwardian house which looked very neat on the outside, and this impression continued as I stepped inside. Dame Emily accepted the flowers with thanks, and showed me into the sitting room. It was a very comfortable room with a couple of large sofas and arm chairs, on one of which was sitting an elderly-looking Cavalier King Charles spaniel.

“That's Rex,” said Dame Emily. “He keeps me company while I'm in London, although most of the time he lives with my daughter.”

“Is he friendly with strangers?” I asked, and on being reassured, I walked over and offered him my hand to sniff and then gently stroked him under his chin.

“He likes you,” said Dame Emily. “Now you must tell me, what happened to your arm?”

For what seemed the hundredth time I told the story of my car accident and how it seemed likely that I would have to give evidence in court.

I looked around the room, taking in several framed photographs of various family members, and also a few of Dame Emily taken with some very famous names from the theatre world.

“How is the film going?” I asked.

“Another three weeks until we wrap,” she replied. “Quite frankly I'd rather be on stage, but I'm happy to take the work, and the cast are a great group of people. The main down-side is the early morning starts. It's quite the reverse of being in a play. Anyway, I'll put the kettle on.”

Rex was looking at me, so, since Dame Emily declined my offer of help in the kitchen, I walked over and gave him another pat until she appeared with a tray loaded with sandwiches and small cakes, and then disappeared into the kitchen once more to return with a silver teapot, milk jug and two cups and saucers, and laid them all on a small table between the couch upon which I was sitting, and her armchair, the one not occupied by Rex.

“Shall I be 'mother'?” she asked.

“White, no sugar please,” I replied, watching her pour the tea.

A very pleasant hour passed as we talked 'shop' as people do who have the same occupation. Dame Emily had amazing stories to tell about the various plays and films in which she had performed, and some of the other cast members, not all of them known to me, who had been part of the casts.

“You have a young man in London, Ronnie isn't it?” said Dame Emily.

“Reggie, actually. He's currently working for a bank but will soon go to York University to study for an Economics degree,” I replied.

“You should have asked him to come along today, I would have liked to meet him,” she said.

“He's playing cricket today. His team is in the final, and it will be his last match for them before he goes to York.”

“Why aren't you there my dear?” said Dame Emily, sounding surprised.

“I went yesterday and this morning, but I had accepted your invitation to tea so here I am.”

“But my dear, you must get your priorities right. As I understand it, this young man is very special to you, and I'm sure he is disappointed that you are not there to watch him play. You could have arranged another time to come and listen to an old lady reminiscing you know?”

I felt my eyes start to prick with unshed tears. It seemed that once again I had made a mistake and disappointed someone whose high opinion I sought. Dame Emily saw the look on my face, and her own face softened.

“Now don't get upset. All may not be lost. It's four-thirty now, when do you think the match will finish?”

“I really don't know. It all depends on how fast Reggie's team scores or how quickly they lose wickets.”

“It seems there isn't a moment to lose. I'll ring for a taxi to take you to the ground. What's the address please?”

“It's Waterfall Road, Southgate,” I replied, and Dame Emily picked up the phone and dialed the number. I heard her say “Yes, it's urgent.” and “No, not a police escort.” When she put down the phone, she said “He'll be here in five minutes. Good luck my dear, I hope you get there while they are still playing, but even if you don't, I'm sure there will be some sort of celebration after the game, and Reggie will be so pleased that you came back for it.”

I still felt like crying, but managed a smile as I said “Thank you so much Dame Emily. Every time I meet you I learn something new and I hope it will make me a better person.”

“You are very welcome my dear. All I ask is that when you are my age, you try to encourage the next generation of young actors, just as I try to do.”

A single tear ran down my cheek. “You are so kind to me Dame Emily. I hope you won't think me presumptuous if I say it's almost like having a second mother.”

She smiled. “That's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me. As you know, I already have a daughter, but if I had another one I'd like her to be just like you. Now you be sure to ring me and tell me how it went at the cricket match.”

The doorbell rang, and I went to the door with my suitcase. Dame Emily waved me goodbye as I entered the cab, and the driver confirmed the address.

“She's a real lady that Dame Emily,” he said. “So, are you an actress too?”

I don't know if there's something about being an actress that gives us away. “Yes, I am,” I replied. “I'm so fortunate to know Dame Emily. She is really helping my career. I'm performing at Stratford now, and it's all thanks to her.”

“Well I'm sure that means you are pretty good,” he said. “She wouldn't waste her time with anyone who wasn't worth it.” This of course caused me to blush, but fortunately in a London cab, passengers sit behind the driver, so unless he saw my face in the mirror, he wouldn't have seen that.

I was lucky that it was Sunday and the traffic was not nearly as bad as on a weekday, but it still took nearly forty-five minutes before he dropped me off at the Walker ground. As I paid him and added a generous trip, I heard a roar from behind the fence and then clapping. Thank goodness, it sounded like the match was still in progress.

I hurried up the driveway which leads to the pavilion where deckchairs were set out for spectators. I glanced at the scoreboard. Southgate had scored two hundred and seventy five runs. That meant they had to score only nine more runs to win. I had made it in time but it was a close thing. Then I noticed something else, and a glance out at the field confirmed it. Reggie was still batting and his score was 102! The applause I had heard as I paid off the taxi must have been when he scored his century. However, I also saw that Southgate had lost nine wickets which meant that if one more wicket fell, they would lose the match.

I slipped into a chair at the rear of the spectators. I didn't want to risk Reggie seeing me and being distracted. It was essential that nothing broke his concentration. The other batsman was a specialist bowler. They always bat last and are not expected to make many runs. In this case, it was his job not to lose his wicket, and as far as possible to keep Reggie facing the bowling and scoring the runs needed. An older woman sitting next to me leaned over, and glanced at my suitcase.

“You've arrived just in time. Isn't it exciting? That's Roger my son out there. He's already scored ten runs, the most he's ever made. The other chap's called Reggie. He's been batting nearly all day.”

“Yes I know,” I replied. “He's a friend of mine.”

Edmonton was using their fastest bowler, in an attempt to intimidate the 'tail-ender', but Roger was made of stern stuff and blocked every ball that threatened his wicket. The over finished and he was still there. Now it was Reggie's turn to face the bowling. The first ball was a bouncer. Reggie ducked and the ball flew over his head, evaded the wicket keeper's outstretched glove and flew to the boundary for four byes. Five more runs needed to win. Reggie hit the next ball through the covers. A fieldsman dived for the ball and missed it. It appeared to be going straight to the boundary but Reggie decided to run anyway. A precious few seconds were lost and when another fieldsman sprinted around the boundary and cut off the ball, the batsmen had to scamper home for three runs. That left Roger on strike, precisely what the batsmen didn't intend to happen.

There was a gasp from the spectators, most of whom supported Southgate. Four balls remained in the over. Could Roger survive them? Once more the bowler thundered down and released the ball. Roger desperately tried to fend it away but his stumps were spread-eagled. A groan went up from the spectators but the umpire called out 'No ball'. It seemed in his eagerness, the bowler had overstepped the crease and Roger was reprieved. The wicket was repaired, and the bowler stalked back to his mark. We could almost see steam coming out of his ears.

Once more the bowler turned and began his run up. This time he tried a bouncer. An experienced batsman would have ducked and let it go, but Roger panicked and threw up his bat to protect himself. The ball glanced off the bat and flew between the first and second slips both of whom dived for it, clutching at thin air, and it carried straight to the boundary for four runs. Southgate had won! Reggie and Roger ran to the middle of the pitch and embraced, while the spectators stood cheering and clapping. In a great act of sportsmanship, the Edmonton players applauded too.

The Southgate players ran out onto the ground to congratulate their batsmen as they walked off the ground. All the spectators were standing, clapping and cheering, myself among them, and it was when Reggie had nearly reached the boundary that he saw me. He lifted his bat in salute and his smile became even broader if that was possible. I was so glad that I had returned to the ground.

A table was set up on the edge of the ground along with a microphone and loudspeaker. The chairman of the Premier League, Colonel Rodney Sanderson was present, along with the two club Presidents and various other officials. The Southgate President Charles Farquharson welcomed everyone and spoke about what an enthralling a battle the match had been. He introduced the chairman of the League who echoed his sentiments and said it was the most exciting match he had seen in a long while. The Edmonton team members were then called up to receive from him their 'runner-up' medallions, followed by the Southgate team for their winners' medallions. The umpires also received a memento.

“We now come to the 'Man of the Match' presentation,” said the President. “It was the unanimous decision of the match committee that this be awarded to Vice Captain Reginald Staunton for his score of one hundred and five not out, and also for taking two wickets.”

Reggie walked up and received his medallion from the Premier League chairman, and the local newspaper photographer took a photo. This was to appear in the paper along with a report of the match. I still have it in my scrapbook.

“Sadly for us, this is that last time we will see Reginald play, at least for a while, as he has to leave us to study at York University,” said the Club President. “However you will always be welcome to visit us any time you are in London.”

Reggie then took the microphone. “Thank you Mr Farquharson. I would just like to say that I have enjoyed my time with Southgate Cricket Club enormously. Everyone was so welcoming, and to finish my time here with this award and be part of the Premiership team is the icing on the cake. If an opportunity arises in the future to return to Southgate you can be sure I will seize it with both hands.”

Everyone applauded Reggie, and then the President said. “There is just one final presentation to make, the Premiership Cup. Would the captain of the Southgate First Eleven, Josh Raymond please step up.

Josh stepped forward and was presented with the Premiership Cup by Colonel Sanderson. As he held it up, everyone clapped and cheered. He made a short speech in which he congratulated the Edmonton team on a well-fought match, then the Southgate team on how they had played, mentioning Reggie and how much they would miss him. The rest of the team gathered around for another picture for the newspaper, and then everyone was invited into the pavilion where the club ladies had laid out team for the players and their guests.

It was only now that Reggie managed to get away and come to talk to me.

“Harriet! I was so pleased to see you there as I came off the ground. I thought you would have been on your way back to Stratford.”

“Well you have Dame Emily to thank for that. When she heard that you were playing in the final, I had quite a scolding, and she insisted that I come back to the match,” I blushed. “She told me to get my priorities right, and she was correct in saying that of course. I felt obliged to go and see her because of all that she's done for me, but she told me that I could have changed the date, and that the match you were playing in was far more important. I hope you can forgive me.”

Reggie smiled. “Of course I can,” he replied. “That's if there's anything to forgive. You're here now, and that's what's important.” He paused. “Dame Emily's almost like a second mother to you isn't she? Why don't we go and have some tea?”

With that we joined the others at the rather sumptuous meal that had been prepared.

While we were eating, (it was one of those stand-up affairs where you really need three hands) Reggie was called away for a minute, and an older lady I hadn't met before came up to me.

“Hello, I'm Lillian Sanderson,” she said. Thank goodness for my memory, I realised she must be the Premier League chairman's wife.

“Harriet Stow,” I replied.

“Your young man is a very talented cricketer,” she said. “Rodney was very impressed with his performance, and said that with the right coaching he could easily turn professional.”

“I'm sure he'd be pleased to hear that,” I replied. “But he's about to start studying Economics at York University. That's why he's having to leave Southgate.”

“And what about you, my dear, what do you do?” she asked.

At that time, I was still a bit reluctant to admit to my chosen career, aware that some people's mental reaction was 'why doesn't she get a proper job?' Nevertheless, I didn't feel like lying.

“Well, I'm an actress,” I replied.

“Oh! Musicals? Comedies? Television? That sort of thing?”

“Well it's Shakespeare at present. I'm rehearsing for 'Twelfth Night.”

“Oh, a local group is it?” she said in what can only describe as an off-hand manner.

“Stratford actually.”

“Oh!” (That word again, but the tone of her voice had changed.)

“Upon Avon,” I said to make it quite clear, as there is a Stratford in East London.

“I see. What a talented pair you are! Rodney and I saw a play there – Richard III. David Lodge played the lead. I don't suppose you know him?”

“As a matter of fact I do. I played Ophelia to his Hamlet recently.” I was starting to enjoy myself.

“Goodness me! I had no idea.” By now she sounded really impressed.

“I've been very fortunate,” I said. Just then Reggie returned.

“Hello Mrs Sanderson,” he said.

“Hello Reginald,” she replied. “Congratulations on your 'Man of the Match' award. I've just been talking to Harriet and she's told me about her acting career. I must say that you are a very talented couple. Rodney told me that you could easily consider a career as a professional cricketer.”

Reggie smiled. “That's very kind of him, but no doubt you've heard I'm off to York University soon. I think I'll have to keep cricket as a sport I enjoy playing as an amateur. I”m hoping they might consider me for the university cricket team, but I'm sure there will be a lot of competition for places.”

After Lillian Sanderson excused herself to go and talk to other people, I said to Reggie. “I hope you don't think I was boasting. She asked me what I do and I told her. I'm not ashamed of it.”

“Neither should you be,” replied Reggie. “In fact you should be very proud of yourself. I'm very proud of you.”

“Reggie, I could stay the night,” I said softly to him.

“That would make a great day perfect,” he replied.

Early Monday morning Reggie and I got up, showered and had breakfast. Reggie looked his old self thank goodness. Richard was there too. He also worked in the city, so we all set off together for the tube station, and I parted company with them and took the train at Marylebone back to Stratford.

When I arrived back at the flat, to my surprise, Scarlett was there with Mary. They were both dressed, so I had no idea if Scarlett had stayed the night, but Mary blushed when she saw me and I suspected that was the case. We all went to the theatre for the rehearsal.

Later that day I saw that there was a message on my telephone, which of course I had to set to silent while I was at the rehearsal. It was from Constable Harrison, reminding me to come to the police station to sign my statement, and also that they intended to charge the driver of the sports car with dangerous driving and failure to stop at the scene of an accident. 'Oh dear,' I thought. 'That could mean a court appearance for me as a witness, if he decides to plead not guilty.'

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 12   The world of education and a new arrival

Reggie's Economics course at York University was due to start in late September, and it was now mid-August. He had already applied for accommodation at Derwent College, I think partly because a friend of his was already studying at York and had his room at Derwent, so at least there was one friendly face. It was also not far from the Department of Economics. I was keeping a brave face about this 'life-changing' move and wondered how if at all it would change our own relationship. At the back of my mind was the thought that Reggie would be mixing with many young people, and a handsome guy like him would obviously be the centre of attraction for the many young women there. I tried to suppress my jealous feelings but it wasn't easy.

The rehearsals were going well, and I decided I would enjoy playing comedy. The main problem of course was comic timing without an audience. Chris told us that we had to wait for laughter to subside but not completely die – that way we would keep up the momentum while still allowing the audience to hear the next line. He tried to help us by calling out 'laughter' at the appropriate moments so that we would make that pause. One thing that was going to help was that as 'Twelfth Night' was going to be on the schools' GCSE the following year, the Company had decided to hold a week long series of afternoon preview performances for local schools before the season proper started. Playing to an audience should help us all to fine-tune our performances.

Writing about schools reminds me – I was called up to the Executive Director's office one morning. I wondered what I'd done this time, but it was his secretary Miss Lane who spoke to me.

“Part of the work we do with local schools is to take part in their career advice programmes which are being held about now. Mr Morgan thought that as a young woman, not much older than some of the students, it might be a good idea if you went to some of the local schools and spoke about what you do. How do you feel about that?” she said.

“Is this about dampening the enthusiasm of some of the more starry-eyed ones who want to follow a career on the stage?” I asked with a smile.

“Something like that,” she admitted, returning my smile. “Or at least tell them to have another occupation to fall back on if times get tough.”

That cause me cause to think about my own situation. I didn't really have anything to fall back on if the work stopped. I had somehow assumed it would keep coming in, but of course that might not happen. There are plenty of would-be actors and only so many roles for them to play.

“Alright,” I said. “I'll give it a go, but please give me feedback and tell me if they approve of what I tell the students.”

Over the next few weeks I visited a number of schools, so what I said at each of them becomes a bit jumbled up in my head, even with my memory, but it was something similar to what follows:

The teacher would take me into the class and introduced me to the students as “This is Miss Harriet Stow. She is an actor currently performing with the Imperial Shakespeare Company here in Stratford, and today she will be talking to you about a career in the Performing Arts.”

I looked down at a group of between twenty and thirty students, aged about sixteen or seventeen. Some looked interested and some sat there with their arms folded and a look of disdain on their faces. I would have to try and win them over.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” I began. “I'm sure some of you are thinking, what's an actress doing here? Shouldn't we be listening to a surgeon, a scientist, a computer programmer or an engineer? I hope you do get an opportunity to hear from all those occupations but I'm not here to apologise for what I do. In my opinion, the arts are just as important as the sciences in a well-balanced society.

“That's not just my opinion. If any of you are fortunate enough to visit ancient sites in places like Greece, very often you will see that one of the biggest constructions in their settlements was an open-air theatre, and this was over two thousand years ago. People love to be entertained, but they also like to be challenged as they do so. Watching a good play on a stage, or on the screen, we see ourselves 'writ large' as the saying goes. A play is often described as 'life without the boring bits'. A drama is successful if it brings matters to a conclusion, since every story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, preferably in that order. (This usually produced a laugh, even if it wasn't original.)

“It's nearly four hundred years since Shakespeare died, but his plays are still being performed today. Despite the fact that many are performed in medieval costume, the challenges his characters face are very similar to the ones we face today. In the next play that I am to perform in here in Stratford, 'Twelfth Night', my character is a young woman Viola who is shipwrecked on an island where she knows no-one. Feeling that it is unsafe to appear in a strange country as a young woman on her own, she disguises herself as a young man, calls herself Cesario, and enters the court of a local duke. He believes himself to be in love with a local noble woman Olivia, and sends the 'young man' to try and turn around her rejection of him. Of course Olivia falls in love with the 'young man', and to further complicate things Viola has already fallen in love with the Duke.

“Now I'm sure you have friends who are really keen on another person who hardly notices they are there, while they themselves either find that someone they don't find attractive is keen on them and they don't know how to diplomatically discourage them, or they don't notice someone else who is really nice. but is too shy to tell them how they feel. So you see, things haven't changed much in four hundred years or even longer.”

At this point I could pretty much guarantee that some of the students would be exchanging glances.

“I won't tell you how ‘Twelfth Night’ ends, since, if you are doing GCSE next year, I hope you will be coming to the theatre to see us perform the play, and I don't want to be a 'spoiler'. What I will say is that seeing a play performed live is so much better than just reading the text in a book. That's where I and the other actors come in. It is our job to bring the play to life for you.

“If you watch awards shows and see all those beautiful women on the red carpet in their fabulous gowns - which hasn't happened to me yet, by the way (cue for more laughter) - you might think that acting is a very glamorous profession, and that's true to a degree, but only sometimes. Bear in mind that for every rôle being offered there are probably at least a hundred actors who want it, and only one who can be successful. Also, unless you land a part in a long-running 'soap', you probably have to audition, which effectively is having a job interview, several times a year. You won't get all those jobs so there will be times when you are 'resting' as the saying goes. That's a polite way of saying you are out of work, which is why it's a very good idea to have another source of income.”

“Do you have another job to go to, Miss Stow?” asked one of the girls.

“To be honest, I don't really,” I replied. “I've worked as a medical receptionist and also as an assistant stage manager prior to becoming a professional actor, and I can assure you I am very well aware of the difficulties I might face if the rôles dry up. For that reason I intend to take every part that doesn't compromise my artistic integrity, and if things get desperate, I might even have to rethink that, and I wouldn't be the first to do so.” The class laughed.

“To sum up, acting is a wonderful profession, but it can be insecure. There are many amateur groups throughout the country, and my advice is to try one of those first and see if in the end you prefer the theatre to be a wonderfully rewarding hobby, not a precarious profession.”

The class always applauded me, and I hope they took on board what I had to say. When the teacher asked if they had any questions, it was usually along the lines of 'Is it well-paid?' My answer to that was that it was reasonably well paid while I was working, but I tried not to live up to the image that some people have of an actress, because I felt the need to put money by for lean times. “We have to pay taxes too like everyone else. Almost everyone has an agent and we have to pay them ten percent of our earnings, but they are essential to a professional performer in finding us work, and often handling the financial side of things like negotiating contracts.”

The other question usually was 'Had I met any famous actors and actresses?' This was much easier to answer. I was able to tell them about working with Dame Emily, David and Sir John and how nice they were and wonderful rôle-models.

Quite frankly, after one of those sessions I felt more exhausted than if I had just performed a three act play!

Three weeks later, with the first performances rapidly approaching, I received a phone call at eight o'clock on Monday morning.

“It's Mum, darling, you are officially an auntie!” She was bubbling over with excitement.

“That's wonderful Mum, how is Emma, what did she have?”

“She had a little girl, darling. Well, when I say little, she was nine pounds in weight, and born at four o'clock this morning.”

“And they're both well?”

“All three of them are, David included, and Penny is thrilled to have a little sister.”

“Mum, it's my last free weekend before we start 'Twelfth Night', so I was thinking of ringing you and coming up by train on Friday evening. Reggie is moving to York to start his Economics course and I was going to drive him up but I can't now because of my arm, so we might come up together on the train. His parents will want to see him I'm sure. Tell Emma she couldn't have timed it better.”

When I phoned Reggie, he agreed to my suggestion, and on Friday evening, I met him at Stratford Station and we journeyed up to Bridchester together. I was expecting to take a taxi to Mum's house and was pleasantly surprised when Reggie's parents met us at the station. I wasn't really sure if they expected to see me there, although Reggie assured me that it was fine. I had always wondered how they felt about their son having a 'special' girlfriend like me, as there had been times when they could have met up with my family, but there always seemed to be some reason why it didn't happen. Now of course my over-active brain began to wonder if they thought that when Reggie went to York University, he would meet up with plenty of 'real' girls and would quickly consign his teenage romance with me to the 'life experience' locker.

I must admit that I couldn't fault their behaviour towards me. They politely asked how my career was progressing and seemed impressed that I had won a second rôle at Stratford, and in no time we arrived at Mum's front gate where they dropped me off. A goodbye kiss from Reggie was not practical of course, so I had to content myself with saying I'd be in touch and hoped he settled in well at York. I really couldn't let it prey on my mind, and anyway, there was Mum waiting for me at the front door, smiling with pleasure.

“Was that the Stauntons?” she asked, after giving me a hug and a kiss.

“Yes, they picked us up at the station, wasn't that kind?”

Mum looked at me. I might be an actress, but she could always see through to the real me.

“Darling, they might never really accept you, and you'll have to live with it.”

I had to stop myself from crying. “It's not just that Mum, Reggie's going off to university – there'll be all those young women hanging around him, what chance have I got?”

“Now, now, it's not the Stow way to give up without a fight, and surely he's worth fighting for?”

“Of course he is Mum, but I can't help feeling that I start with a big disadvantage. Anyway,” I said, trying to pull myself together, “When can I see my niece?”

We can go right away if you like, as soon as you take your suitcase inside,” said Mum, so that's what we did.

Emma met us at the door, carrying the baby wrapped in a woollen blanket. She looked tired but very happy.

“Emma! Congratulations to you both,” I said kissing her on the cheek.

She led the way into the living room where it was warmer and unwrapped my niece for me to see. She looked so small, tiny wisps of fair hair, pink cheeks and rosebud lips, just five days old.

“Oh, she's beautiful!” I exclaimed.

“Would you like to hold her?” Emma asked. I was sitting beside her on the couch and she carefully transferred the new arrival into my arms. I must admit that at first I held her like cut glass, afraid she might break, but I gradually started to relax.

“Does she have a name yet?”

“Yes, she's to be Elizabeth Marjory Soames, named after both her grandmothers.”

“That's a lovely name,” I said. After a while I handed her back, and produced a small parcel from my bag. Elizabeth was handed over to our Mum while Emma unwrapped it. A white rabbit with pink ears was revealed and pronounced the perfect gift for a newborn.

“And how is David coping?” I asked.

Emma laughed “As well as can be expected. That's the standard answer isn't it? Well of course he's had previous experience, so he's managing very well, and really looking after us both, as well as Penny of course.”

“And what does she think of Elizabeth?”

“Oh, she's thrilled. I couldn't be happier, Harriet, the baby arriving has made us seem like a complete family.”

Not long after, Penny arrived home from school, and there was no doubting her enthusiasm for her sister. It seems unnecessarily pedantic to call her a half-sister, and I'm sure Penny didn't see her that way.

Then David arrived and received a congratulatory kiss from me.

“Are you losing much sleep too?” I asked.

“Well it comes with the territory,” he replied. “It was the same with Penny, and in both cases they were so worth it.”

He looked curiously at my strangely painted cast. “What have they done to you?” he asked.

“They've made my cast look medieval,” I replied. “I was a bit worried that it was going to stop me playing the part, but Chris said that people broke arms in those days too, and they were treated in much the same way as they are now, so provided it didn't look modern, that was alright. After all, Viola had been in a shipwreck, so that could explain it.”

David laughed. “Well that's one way of looking at it.”

All too soon, it was time for me to head back to Stratford. This time Mum dropped me off at the station, and as I tended to do, I slept most of the way back.

The pre-season week started, when we were going to play five matinees for local schools. It was certainly good practise, and I have to say that the students were very well behaved and seemed to laugh in all the right places. Everyone was performing well and I could tell that we were all enjoying ourselves.

I shared a dressing room with Mary, and also our two understudies. Euphemia Gibb, thankfully known as 'Effie' was mine, and Jane Masefield was Mary's. It made things a little cramped, but of course the understudies didn't have to dress or get made up, so it least we didn't have to squeeze onto the make-up tables in front of the mirrors.

Effie and Jane were allowed to play one of the matinees, and Mary and I acted as their understudies. Instead of waiting in the dressing room, Mary and I walked down to the back of the stalls after the performance had started to see how they performed. Both were competent actresses and I felt reassured that if we ever had to miss a performance, the play was in good hands.

I was no longer in the least worried that Effie and Jane would realise that I wasn't a genetic girl. By now my breasts had developed to about 'B' cup size, and since I made a point of not walking around without clothes on, as far as they were concerned I was just 'one of the girls'.

The following Saturday was the first official performance of 'Twelfth Night' and it was a sell-out. To my surprise, before the curtain rose there was an announcement made.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to this performance of 'Twelfth Night' by William Shakespeare. You will notice that Miss Harriet Stow who plays the parts of Viola and Cesario has her arm in a sling. While the real reason is more prosaic, we have chosen say that this was due to injuries received in the shipwreck that Viola suffers prior to her first appearance in Act One Scene Two.”

There was a murmur of amusement from the audience, and then it was on with the show. One more thing, when I did appear on stage I was surprised to receive a round of applause, and I thought it appropriate to acknowledge it by curtsying to the audience, since at that stage I was still in a woman's dress.

When I came off stage, Chris was standing there.

“That was a brilliant idea, giving the reason for my arm in a sling,” I said.

“Well, I didn't want the audience wondering what had happened rather than listening to the play. By the way, the curtsy was a brilliant improvisation. I want you to do that at every performance.”

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 13   Antonette

On Thursday morning I went down to Stratford to shop. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, and I doubt if any man reading this could understand that. When men shop, they have something particular in mind to buy; they go to the shop that sells it and the first item that fits the bill, they buy – simple. Women take a different approach. We enjoy browsing through shops for something that catches our eye, and if we like it, and particularly if it’s a bargain – we buy it. Much better in my view!

I walked around, looking in shop windows and occasionally checking through the racks of clothes without finding anything that appealed to me. As I was walking through Bards Walk Arcade, I saw a middle-aged woman coming towards me with a pretty teenage girl by her side. As she came closer I recognised her.

“Louise!” I said. “How nice to see you.”

She stared blankly at me for a moment before saying “Harriet! How nice to see you. I'm sorry I didn't recognise you at first.”

“Goodness, have I changed that much?” I asked, then looking at the pretty girl standing beside her, it was my turn to be surprised, “And this must be Antonette.”

The girl blushed prettily. “Hello Miss Stow.” she said.

“Hello Antonette, please call me Harriet,” I said.

My mind instantly went back to the time when I had briefly boarded with Louise Burton, the secretary of Sir Edgar Wells, the entrepreneur who had organised the London season of “Dear Brutus”. She had a son Anthony, and one day I had surprised him dressed in some of his sisters' clothes. [This incident is recorded in the first volume of my memoirs 'The Might-Have-Been Girl, and happened about four months earlier]. Now here was her child again and very definitely no longer Anthony.

“This is most opportune,” said Louise. “I was going to try and contact you through the theatre. Antonette and I are visiting Stratford for just a few days.”

“Why don't we find a cafe and have a cup of tea and you can tell me what you've been doing?” I said.

There was one close by, and before we went inside, Louise said “Antonette, there's a lovely shop specialising in teenage fashion a few doors down. Do you want to have tea with us or would you like to check it out while I chat with Harriet?”

“I think I'll check the shop out if you don't mind?” said Antonette. As she walked down the arcade, we both looked after her, and then at each other, and we smiled. She was such a girl.

Over a cup of tea and some pastries, Louise told me about Antonette.

“I'm sorry Louise,” I said. “I did intend to keep in touch with her more, but I've been rather busy, not that that's an excuse. How are things going with her?”

“Well, as you can see, she's definitely made up her mind who she wants to be. Bob found it hard at first, but he's come around now. She and I went to our G.P., who referred us to a specialist, and as a result, she's now on Aldactone, and in due course I expect she'll go on hormone therapy.”

She kept looking at me, and I suspected I knew the reason, so I said “You didn't recognise me at first did you?”

“No I didn't,” she admitted. “How can I put it without seeming rude? You just look more sophisticated than when I last saw you, even though it hasn't been that long.”

I laughed, thinking to myself that the change in looks might be partly due to the hormones I was taking, but instead I said “Maybe that's what playing with the ISC does for a person. So what brings you to Stratford?”

“Antonette's completed her GCSE exams and left school. She did change schools when she decided she wanted to live as a girl full-time, and I supported her in that, since children can be so cruel. It made a world of difference to her attitude to study, and I expect her results to be very good. She wants to study Arts at university, and as she's never been to Stratford before, it seemed the perfect place for a short holiday. I think perhaps the fact that you are performing here had something to do with it too.”

I smiled. “Well I'm playing in 'Twelfth Night' now and we are having a series of matinee performances this week, mainly for local school children who will be studying it next year, but if you would like to come to tomorrow's performance I'm sure I can organise some tickets for you.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Louise.

“Why don't we go and find Antonette and see if she'd like to go too?” I said.

We walked down the Arcade to the shop that Louise had pointed out. Looking through the window, we could see Antonette engrossed in the racks of dresses.

I smiled at Louise. “Well there's no doubt she's a girl,” I said.

“Sometimes I think she's almost too feminine,” said Louise. “But I suppose I understand why. After all, she’s got some lost years to make up.”

I smiled at her. “Well I have to admit I prefer skirts and dresses myself, although there are times when trousers are more practical.”

We walked inside the shop. Antonette saw us coming and dropped the skirt of a pretty dress that she'd been holding.

“Have you seen anything you like?” I asked.

Antonette blushed slightly. “There's lots of pretty dresses here; it would be hard to choose.” She had obviously fallen in love with that particular dress.

Louise, picked up the price tag, and let it fall, but I still managed to read the figure on it.

“Why don't we leave Antonette to browse for a bit, Louise,” I said. “There's something I want to show you.” I led her over to the far side of the shop.

“Louise, I hope you don't think I'm speaking out of turn. Antonette loves that dress and I'm sure it would suit her perfectly. Would you let me pay half the cost, or would you be offended?”

Louise hesitated. “Well, if you're sure?”

“Yes I'm sure. I'm also sure you understand that I see her as a kindred spirit, and I'd like to help do something nice for her, but please don't tell her, alright?”

We walked back to where Antonette was still going through the racks of clothes.

“Antonette, would you like to try on that dress that you liked so much?” said Louise.

Her face brightened. “Do you think I could?” She didn't need asking twice, and soon disappeared into one of the changing rooms. When she re-appeared we all knew that it was the perfect dress for her. She did a twirl for us, her face wreathed in smiles.

“Would you like it?” said Louise. “I was going to buy you a present for studying so hard this year.”

“Oh Mum!” Antonette rushed up and hugged her mother. While she was changing back, I slipped Louise some cash.

“Thanks, Harriet,” she said. “To be honest, it was a bit outside my budget since Bob left, but I really wanted to do something for Antonette. I know she's got a long road ahead of her.”

“Bob's left?” I felt shocked.

“You didn't know of course, why should you?” Louise looked like she wanted to cry.

“It wasn't because of Antonette was it?” I said, suddenly concerned.

“Oh no, it's one of the young secretaries where he works. I'm guessing it's one of those mid-life crises men go through. He'll probably end up wanting to come back.”

“And will you let him?” I asked.

“I really don't know,” she replied. She looked at the notes in her hand. “This is too much,” she said.

“Well, she might want some shoes to go with the dress.” I said. Then glancing at my watch I said “It's time for me to go to the theatre for this afternoon's performance. Just call at the box office tomorrow afternoon, and the tickets will be there in your name. We can meet up after the performance if you like. Tell one of the ushers who you are and say you're invited around to my dressing room.”

“Thank you so much Harriet,” said Louise, and she kissed me on the cheek. “I'm so glad your career is going so well. You deserve everything you achieve.”

I smiled and left the shop before Antonette appeared again. I didn't want to 'play gooseberry' on a mother-daughter moment. Back at the theatre I organised two tickets for Louise and Antonette at no charge. I still couldn't get over Bob leaving. They had seemed like the perfect couple when I had briefly lived at their house.

The following afternoon, after the performance, Louise and Antonette came around to the dressing room. I was pleased to see that Antonette was wearing her new dress and told her how nice she looked in it. She beamed and blushed at the same time.

After introducing Louise and Antonette to Mary, (Effie and Jane had already left), I said “Well, what did you think of the play?”

“It was wonderful,” they said in unison. “And you were both awesome,” added Antonette.

“We've had a fair bit of practice,” I said.

Later, Louise took me aside and said “I didn't expect the tickets to be free Harriet. You're very kind, but it's too much.”

“Louise, we're allowed some free seats for matinees, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather give them to,” I replied. I had thought of offering to take them out for tea, but realised that I was in danger of going 'over the top'. Perhaps Louise was worried that I was going to offer more too, because she said. “We're heading back to London this evening, but we've had a wonderful few days here. I do hope you'll come and visit us when you're next in London. I remember you loved my roast dinners and I'm sure I can rustle up another one for you.”

I smiled. “I’ll really look forward to that, Louise. I promise to keep in touch with Antonette more often too. You must let me know how she is going, and you too of course.”

With that we parted with hugs and kisses on the cheek. You know something, whoever first said 'it is better to give than to receive' (I think it might have been St Paul) knew what he was saying.

The next time I went down to London to see Dr McLeish, I did visit Louise and Antonette and she made good on her promise of the roast dinner, and it was just as good as I remembered..

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 14   The magistrate's court.

I received a phone call from Stratford police telling me that thanks to the lorry driver’s dashboard camera, they had identified the sports car which had caused me to drive off the road. It belonged to a young man called Malcolm Bridges, but when he was contacted by the police, he claimed it was his mother who was driving on the day in question. She had confirmed this and so she was charged with 'careless driving' and 'failure to stop after an accident'. After getting legal advice she had decided to plead ‘not guilty’, and so would appear at the local magistrates’ court. This meant that I would be called as a witness.

On hearing this I rang the solicitor's office where I had taken out the Statutory Declaration to change my name. I needed to know if I could legally use my name in a court of law.

As an experiment, I had tried dressing as a young man in trousers, a man's shirt and shoes, all bought at a charity shop. I also bound up my breasts which were now B cup size, with a wide bandage. Finally I tied up my hair in a pony tail, and looked at the result in the mirror. I sighed, and walked out to where Mary was sitting and said “What do you think?”

She looked at me. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” she said.

“If you're thinking, 'girl trying to disguise herself as a boy and failing badly', that's what I'm thinking,” I replied.

We did manage to laugh about the irony of it.

Naturally enough, the solicitor's office wouldn't tell me what I needed to know over the phone – they couldn't easily charge a fee for that. Instead I was given an appointment to see Mr Lucas of Archibald, Lucas and Smart.

Mr Lucas was a gentleman of the old school, and stood when I entered his office. When we were both sitting down, he told me what I needed to know.

“I've checked your enquiry, Miss Stow. You must realise that this sort of situation is relatively new to us, although I expect we will see more of them in the future. I can assure you that you are legally allowed to use your new name, and the fact that your birth certificate states otherwise in no way means that you are perjuring yourself. We will of course be happy to give you our opinion in writing.”

“Thank you very much, Mr Lucas,” I said, and that was that. In due course I paid what seemed an outrageous amount of money for this opinion, but of course you could also say it was priceless insurance to have written confirmation that what I proposed to do was legal.

For my court appearance I had decided that I would dress in what I termed 'smart secretarial style', a black pencil skirt, just below the knee, white silk blouse over a camisole, stockings and three inch black court shoes. I wore my hair up, and suitable make-up for day wear.

I admit to feeling a little nervous about attending the court, even though I was the injured party. The Magistrates' Court, which is now closed, was in Rother Street in Stratford. As a witness, I was not allowed into the court before I was called to give evidence, so I sat in the corridor outside, waiting for the usher to call my name. Mary kindly came along to give moral support, and since she was not involved, she was allowed into the public gallery. For the first part of the session I have to rely on her recollections of the day.

“I had never been in a court before,” said Mary. “To start proceedings, an usher dressed in a black gown called out 'All rise', so we all stood up. Three magistrates, one woman and two men, entered from a back door behind a raised dais at one end of the court. The magistrates positioned themselves in front of three ornate chairs and bowed to us, and we all bowed back before sitting down. I couldn't help thinking this was something like a theatrical performance. Seated in front of the magistrates was the clerk of the court who is the legal adviser to the magistrates. I found out from the internet that most magistrates are not legal professionals.

“I was seated in the public gallery and looking around, I saw some court officials, some uniformed policemen, and various other people whom I supposed were involved with the cases to be heard. There was an earnest young man presumably from the local newspaper, since he was carrying a reporter's notebook and pen, and he was seated in a small area just in front of me. I was worried for you that someone from the press was there but I suppose it was to be expected.

“Proceedings started with a couple of cases, one for drunk driving, where the man pleaded guilty and received a fine and some penalty points, and another for burglary, where the man pleaded 'not guilty' and the case was referred to a higher court.

“Then your case was announced. A woman in her forties entered the court and sat next to a man whom I assumed was her defence lawyer or solicitor. He wasn’t wearing robes and a wig as I expected, but apparently they don’t in a magistrates’ court. She was asked to stand and gave her name as Helen Bridges, and also her address. The charges of 'careless driving' and 'failure to stop after an accident' were read out and she was asked how she pleaded. “Not guilty, your Worship,” she said in a subdued voice.

“The first witness, Constable Harrison, was called to the witness box. He reported that he had attended the scene of the accident and described what he had observed. He said he had also attended the hospital where you had been taken, and had taken a statement from you which he read out. Neither the prosecution nor the defence asked him any questions.

“Next the lorry driver was called upon to give evidence. He was asked by the prosecutor when he first saw the Bridges’ car.

‘In my rear view mirror when it was already alongside my lorry and driving very fast,’ he said.

‘And when did you see the blue Honda Civic?’

‘A minute or so earlier.’

‘And did you believe the Bridges’ car had sufficient time to pass your lorry and safely return to the left side of the road?’

‘No I didn’t, so I braked hard, which nearly made me lose control, and then I saw the Civic drive off the road to avoid a collision. The whole thing was captured on my dashboard camera.’

‘Your Worships, I would like permission to show the dashboard camera recording at this point,’ said the prosecutor.

“A large television screen was wheeled to the side of the court where everyone could see it, and the recording played. The dashboard camera had recorded the incident and the number plate of the sports car, but since the soft top was up, it was not possible to see who was in the car, nor who was driving. There was an audible gasp when everyone saw how close you were to colliding with the sports car,” said Mary. "The defence lawyer didn’t ask any questions, and then it was your turn to give evidence."

The usher appeared through the door leading into the court and called my name. I stood up and walked into the court and looked around me as I did so. It was an old building and the court had the traditional wood panelling, much as I'd seen in courtroom dramas on the television. I had time to notice the magistrates seated on the raised dais at one end of the court, before I was shown into the witness box, took the oath and gave my name and address. The Prosecutor asked me to describe in my own words what happened that day, which I did. I was also asked about the extent of my injuries. Then I was asked if I had ever seen Mrs Bridges before this day in court and I replied ‘Not to my knowledge’.

I was asked when I first saw the red sports car and I replied “When it appeared from behind the lorry.”

“Are you able to tell the court how many people were in the sports car?”

“I believe I saw two people,” I replied.

“Can you tell the court if a man or woman was driving?”

“I'm sorry, I can’t,” I said.

“At what point did you decide to take action to avoid a collision?”

“It all happened so fast, but it must have been when I felt sure there wasn’t time for the sports car to pass the lorry and return to its side of the road without colliding with me.”

“So you drove off the road and into the gravel verge?”

“Yes. I braked at the same time, my car skidded, and I ran into a tree at the side of the road.”

“And you suffered some injuries?”

“Yes, I was briefly knocked unconscious and my right arm was broken. The lorry driver came over to see how I was. He called the emergency services and an ambulance came and took me to hospital where I was kept in overnight and treated for my wounds.”

It was then the defence lawyer’s turn. He mainly concentrated on my lack of memory of events and asked if I was able to say if a man or a woman was driving the car at the time of the incident. I replied that I didn’t know.

“And how fast were you driving when you saw the sports car?” he asked.

“About fifty miles an hour,” I said. “I haven’t been driving long so I keep well below the speed limit.”

“Thank you Miss Stow, please just answer my questions,” he said. “Just how long have you been driving?”

I replied that it was about six months. I think the defence lawyer suspected from my age that I hadn’t been driving long and wanted to imply that an experienced driver would have handled the situation better. I was also asked whether I had incurred any penalty points to date, which I hadn’t.

That was the end of his questioning and I was told I could stand down. Now that my evidence had been given, I was able to sit in the public gallery and watch the rest of the case.

Malcolm Bridges, a handsome, but to my eyes at least, slightly louche young man was then called to give evidence, and the prosecutor asked how often he asked his mother to drive his car.

“Not very often,” he replied. “But I had been to a party the previous evening; I'd had a few drinks and I was concerned that I might be still over the limit. In any case I felt tired, but I had an appointment in Stratford that day, so my mother very kindly offered to drive me.”

“So your mother is licensed and insured to drive a car with manual transmission?”

“I believe she is,” replied Malcolm Bridges, rather smugly I thought.

“You believe Mr Bridges? Surely you asked her before letting her drive your car?”

“Yes I’m sure I did ask her and she said ‘yes’,” he replied. “She drives an old manual Morris Minor.”

The defence didn’t ask any questions.

Mrs Bridges was now called to the witness box.

Something didn't seem right. I wouldn't say it was impossible, but it seemed so unlikely that a woman of her age would be driving a sports car and especially in such a dangerous manner. The fact that her son was in the car as well made it seem even less likely. The prosecutor obviously thought so too because she began a series of searching questions about the events of the day. As I remember it the words used were something like this:

“Is it not a fact that the sports car you were driving is registered in the name of your son Malcolm Bridges who was a passenger in the car on that day?”

“Yes, that's right,” she replied.

“And was there a reason why you were driving and not him?”

“Err yes, he was feeling tired after some late nights, and asked me to drive him to Stratford.”

“That was very kind of you Mrs Bridges, but is it not also a fact that Malcolm Bridges has accrued ten penalty points in the past three years and is in imminent danger of losing his licence if he commits any more driving offences?”

She looked flustered. “I'm not sure,” she replied.

"He's never mentioned that to you?"

"No."

“And how many penalty points have you accumulated in the last three years, Mrs Bridges?”

“None,” she replied.

“Mrs Bridges, while you were overtaking the lorry did you think you had ample time to complete the manoeuvre and return to the left side of the road?”

“At first I did but then I wasn’t sure,” she replied.

“So what did you do?”

“It was too late to brake so I accelerated.”

“Wasn’t that a dangerous decision to make?”

“In retrospect I suppose it was,” she replied.

“Mrs Bridges, when you saw Miss Stow’s car driving off the road, didn’t it occur to you that she might have an accident and that you should return and render assistance?”

“No, I thought she would drive back onto the road,” she said.

“Did you look in your rear–view mirror to check if this happened?” asked the Prosecutor.

“Yes, err no, well I think so,” responded Mrs Bridges. She was getting increasingly flustered.

“So based on what you thought might have happened, you decided to keep driving?”

“Yes. Yes, alright, I panicked,” she said.

“You panicked because you thought your driving might have caused an accident?”

Mrs Bridges looked miserable. She nodded, then looking first at her solicitor and then towards the magistrates, she said “Your Worships, may I change my pleas?”

The Chairman said. “Yes you may Mrs Bridges but do you wish to take advice from your counsel first?”

Her solicitor stood up and said “Your Worships, may we have a brief adjournment while I consult with my client?”

“Yes you may Mr Hodges,” was the reply, and Mrs Bridges stepped out of the witness box and went to talk with her lawyer. After a few minutes she returned to the witness box.

“Mrs Bridges, I must remind you that you are still under oath. Do you still wish to change your pleas?”

“Yes, Your Worship, I wish to plead guilty to both charges and apologise for wasting the court’s time.”

“Very well, Mrs Bridges,” replied the Chairman and he asked the legal adviser to discuss the case with him and the other two magistrates.
After that he addressed Mrs Bridges.

“Mrs Bridges, you have pleaded guilty to careless driving and also failure to stop at the scene of an accident, both serious charges. It is the decision of this court that you be fined five hundred pounds, and disqualified from driving for eight months on the first charge. You will incur three penalty points on your licence for the second charge, and you will also be liable for the prosecution’s costs of £160.00. In view of your earlier pleas you will not receive a discount on the sentences. One further thing, Mrs Bridges, I'm sure you have heard of the term 'perjury'. It is an extremely serious offence and often incurs a custodial sentence. Please bear that in mind. Next case.”

I knew that no-one in the court really believed Mrs Bridges' story that she was driving the sports car at the time of the accident, but there was no evidence to prove that she wasn't driving. There was also no way of proving that she knew or didn’t know that an accident had occurred. In the British justice system, an accused person is deemed to be innocent until proven guilty, and so is always given the benefit of the doubt. In this instance, Mrs Bridges’ guilty pleas had to be taken at face value and dealt with accordingly.

As Mrs Bridges left the courtroom, she walked up to her son. They embraced and as he looked over her shoulder at me, there was a trace of a smile on his face, as he seemed to be saying something quietly in her ear.

Mary and I tried to slip quietly out of the courtroom, and into the foyer, but we weren't quick enough. The young reporter hurried up to me.

“Miss Stow, Jamie Barnes from the Stratford Advertiser, may I have a word?”

I couldn't very well ignore him, so I stopped.

“It is Miss Stow from the Imperial Shakespeare Company isn't it?”

I agreed that that's who I was.

“May I ask you for a comment about the case, Miss Stow?”

I might have been young, but I hadn't come down in the last shower.

“It was my first experience of seeing the British Justice system at work, and I'm sure the magistrates came to the right conclusion.”

“But did you believe that the mother was driving?” he persisted.

“That's what she said, and I have no reason not to believe her,” I replied. He could see that he wasn't going to get anything further from me, so he thanked me and walked away.

As I left the foyer, I heard the tap of heels on the stone floor as someone hurriedly came up behind me. I turned and saw it was Mrs Bridges.

“Miss Stow, may I have a private word with you?” she said looking at Mary. Mary took the hint and moved away. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am for what happened. I panicked, but that's no excuse. I have learned my lesson.”

The natural inclination when someone apologises is to say 'that's alright', but it wasn't alright, especially as by her actions she had ensured that her son still had his licence, and the next time, the outcome might be very different. She hadn't finished though.

“I really appreciate what you said in evidence today, and I was wondering if you had been put to any expense as a result of my actions?”

“Well, I did have to pay five hundred pounds excess on my car insurance, but that was my bad luck,” I said, and then wished I hadn't, because she rummaged in her handbag and produced a cheque book.

“Please allow me to give you a cheque to reimburse you,” she said, writing out a cheque. I took it because it seemed rude to refuse it, but I had a feeling I was doing the wrong thing. Did she think that I had not told the whole truth when giving evidence and was now paying me off? I remembered what the magistrate had said about perjury. I showed the cheque to Mary and said “I think that the best thing to do is see the constable who took my statement and tell him exactly what had just happened.”

“I think that's a wise move,” agreed Mary.

I waited until Mrs Bridges and her son had left, in the red sports car as it happened, but with him definitely driving this time. He very nearly spun the wheels as he drove off; then I walked back into the court building to look for Constable Harrison, and met him just as he was leaving.

“Constable Harrison, could you spare me a minute please?”

“Certainly Miss Stow,” he replied. “And don't worry about this morning. We can't win them all.”

“Something just happened that concerns me. Mrs Bridges came up to me, apologised, then thanked me for the evidence I gave and asked me if I had incurred expenses. When I told her about the five hundred pounds excess on my insurance, she wrote out a cheque and gave it to me. Here it is.” I held it out to him.

He looked serious. “You think she was suggesting that you perjured yourself?”

“Well she didn't suggest anything, but I'm just thinking now how it looks, especially after what the magistrate had to say about perjury. I just wish I hadn't taken it.”

“Well, you've done the right thing in bringing it to our attention. I'm sorry, but I'll have to get you to write out a statement about what just happened. Can you come down to the station now?”

Mary drove me down to the police station and I did as he requested.

“What happens next?” I asked.

“I will bring this to the attention of the magistrates who heard the case. I'll photocopy the cheque and get you to confirm it’s an accurate copy. You can have it back, but don't cash it, at least for now.”

I felt very relieved when I left the police station. For once, it seemed that I had done something right. The result of this little episode was another telephone call from Constable Harrison's sergeant.

“Miss Stow, the matter of the cheque had been brought to the attention of the magistrates, and it is their advice that you return it to Mrs Bridges by registered mail, telling her that you cannot accept it.”

I took their advice, albeit reluctantly. I was trying to save money for my surgery and five hundred pounds was a reasonable sum of money, but it seems I just had to write it off to experience. However, some time later I did receive good news from my insurance company. It seemed that since Mrs Bridges had accepted liability by pleading guilty in court, they would claim all the costs of my claim from Mrs Bridges’ insurance company, and I would not be liable to pay the excess after all.

The following week, a short article appeared in the 'Advertiser'. Under the heading “Rising Star in Car Accident”, the text read as follows:
“Rising Imperial Shakespeare Company star Harriet Stow appeared as a witness in the Stratford Magistrates' Court last week in a case where she was forced to drive off the Warwick to Stratford road in order to avoid a head-on collision with a sports car driven by Mrs Helen Bridges, 48, of Dove Street, Warwick. Miss Stow, 19, sustained a broken arm and concussion when her car hit a tree. Currently appearing in the ISC production of Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night', in the classic tradition of 'the show must go on', Miss Stow performed the role of Viola with her arm in a sling for the first two weeks.

Mrs Bridges pleaded guilty to careless driving and failing to stop at the scene of an accident. She was fined £500, banned from driving for eight months and incurred 3 penalty points.”

I confess that I thought it was a curious article since it concentrated more on me than the actual case. Still, there's a saying that 'all publicity is good publicity', although for the life of me I can't understand why any story involving an actor or actress seems to be newsworthy. I was glad that I had made the ISC Administration aware of what had happened.

That should have been the end of the matter, but alas it was not to be. About three months later, another short article appeared in the 'Advertiser', under the heading “Man Killed in Head-on Crash”.

“Malcolm Bridges, of Stuart Street, Warwick, died yesterday when his sports car collided head-on with a lorry while he was overtaking another vehicle on the Warwick to Stratford road. Mr Bridges was alone in the car at the time. The lorry driver was not injured. The incident was similar to one that occurred three months ago on the same stretch of road, when his car, this time driven by his mother, nearly collided head-on with another car driven by Miss Harriet Stow an actress with the ISC, while overtaking a lorry. Miss Stow suffered a broken arm in the incident.”

I felt very sorry for Helen Bridges. I couldn't help wondering that if she’d refused to accept responsibility for what had happened, then her son might have been banned from driving, and still be alive. Alas, it seemed this was a classic case of a spoilt child who manipulated his mother in every way possible, and it had come to the worst possible end for them both. I was just glad no-one else suffered in the latest accident.

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.

As an additional acknowledgement, this chapter has been heavily revised after I received advice from a retired magistrates’ court legal adviser who wishes to remain anonymous. A number of readers’ comments refer to the fact that no witnesses are called when someone charged pleads guilty, and so this has now been changed.

---

Chapter 15   Reggie and me

I rang Reggie after he had been in York a few days. I didn't want to pester him when he was getting orientated to a new life as a student. He sounded quite excited and told me he'd met up with his friend Roger who had a room close to his. Roger was in his second year of Economics, and so was able to show Reggie around, including the rooms where the lectures and tutorials were to be held.

I would have loved to have visited him, if only to let the other women there know that Reggie had a girlfriend, but now that the season of 'Twelfth Night' had started, I only had Sundays and sometimes part of Mondays off, so we had to communicate by phone. Reggie did have a suggestion. He told me that he had to buy a new laptop computer as his current one wasn't powerful enough for use in the course.

“There's nothing wrong with the other one,” he said. “If you would like it, it would be perfect for emails, web searches and writing, and we could communicate too as it's got a camera, and it would be cheaper than phone calls. What do you think?”

“That sounds like a great idea,” I replied. “I think I'm a bit of a 'tech dummy' though.”

“That's not a problem,” he replied. “I'll come down and teach you the basics. You're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll soon pick it up.”

“When can you come down?” I asked, and Reggie suggested the following weekend, as he was going to join his college's football team and training was about to start.

--ooOoo--

Reggie arrived on an early train from York the following Saturday and I met him at the railway station. I always made an effort to look pretty for him and I'm sure he appreciated that. We kissed on the platform, oblivious to the amused smiles of passers-by, and then walked to a nearby cafe for a late breakfast.

Afterwards we walked to a nearby electrical retailer called Comet (which went bust in 2012). Reggie introduced himself to the young man behind the counter who turned out to be called Steve. He opened his suitcase and produced the computer which I was going to use, and said that he wanted to organise internet access for me. I confess that the conversation they held might just as well have been in a foreign language for all the sense it made, but I was duly signed up for a package involving the purchase of an ethernet card and a contract with an Internet provider called BT. I took all this on trust, since I had no idea what I was doing.

“Don't worry,” said Reggie. “Steve and I have worked it out between us.”

“I'm sorry, I must seem like an absolute dummy,” I said.

Steve smiled. “Well if you are interested, there is a book written on the subject. It's called 'Internet for Dummies'.” I thought he was kidding me but it turned out he wasn't.

“Get it later if you want to learn more,” said Reggie. “When we get back to the flat I'll set it all up for you and get it working.”

I was happy to leave the technicalities to them both, and confined my input to paying the requested amount of money.

After that we headed back to the flat, and Reggie set up my new computer, plugging in all the cables and organising an email address for me.

“Now we'll get you to send your first email to my computer,” he said. “For that, you’ll need my email address. When I’m back at the University I’ll be able to read it and reply. Back there I’m connected to the Joint Academic Network called ‘JANET’ which gives me direct access to the internet.”

So, guided by Reggie, I sent my first ever email. It was very simple and just said:

'Dear Reggie, I love you. Harriet xxx'

Reggie smiled. “I shall keep that on my computer for ever,” he said.

Reggie then introduced me to a search engine called AltaVista, and explained how I could use it to search out items of interest. It’s long gone now of course, being bought out by Yahoo! a few years later and eventually absorbed into it.

The time had flown by and soon it was time to go to the theatre. Reggie hadn't seen me act in 'Twelfth Night', so as requested I had obtained a ticket for him.

After the performance he came to my dressing room and told me that I was an excellent comedy actress too!

“It's been something new to me after the previous two dramas,” I said. “But I'm really enjoying the change of style, and it's all adding to my experience.”

Reggie drove Mary and I back to the flat and cooked us an omelette each for supper. After that it was time for bed, and I was more than ready for that as I hadn't seen him for several weeks. As we lay in bed, his strong gentle hands caressed my body.

“I can't believe how your body is changing,” he murmured as he gently touched my breasts. I was no longer using breast forms since my real breasts were now about 'B cup' size, and naturally enough they responded to my lover's touch in the most thrilling way.

“Have you spoken to your specialist about when you can have surgery?” he asked.

“She said it could be in about six months,” I replied. “That's why I'm saving every penny I can, but there is a complication. My agent Richard Green contacted me a week ago. It seems that ISC is definitely going to mount a production of 'Romeo and Juliet' towards the end of the year, and he's most insistent that I audition for it. I must admit I wasn't sure and asked him if he thought I was ready for such a role. He’s sure I am, and he said that an opportunity like this only comes along every so often, so I'd be crazy not to try for it.

“Of course it's in his interest for me to get big roles like that, so I rang Dame Emily and asked her what she thought, and she agrees with Richard.”

“I see,” said Reggie. “So it would be worth putting off surgery for, if you get the role?”

“It's about the only one I would put it off for,” I replied.

“Well, in that case you must audition for it.”

“I'm glad you understand,” I said. “I guess it's my fault for choosing the career I have.”

He laughed softly “And what a career it's turning out to be.”

“This is no shoe-in though,” I said. “Every Shakespearean actress my age will be going for it; there might be fifty or more applying.”

“You've got as much chance as any of them, maybe more so,” he replied. “Most of those other girls haven't acted in Stratford, and the people at ISC already know what you can do.”

“Thank you Reggie,” I said. “You always give me confidence when I need it.”

--ooOoo--

Sometime in the wee small hours, we were both awake.

“What's that noise?” whispered Reggie. “I thought Mary's boyfriend was in Bridchester.”

I listened. There were sounds of smothered giggles and other noises coming through the bedroom wall.

“That's Mary and Scarlett,” I whispered back.

“You mean the woman who played Olivia?” he asked.

“The same,” I replied. “Mary's recently been taking a trip to the Greek Islands, well one in particular.”

There was a moment’s pause while he digested the meaning of my remark. Then he laughed softly.

“Scarlett will probably still be here at breakfast,” I whispered. “Just act nonchalant.”

As I predicted, Scarlett and Mary were sitting at the breakfast table when we finally surfaced, rather late I must admit.

“You two must have been tired,” Mary remarked.

“Well acting really takes it out of me,” I replied, straight-faced.

“But Reggie isn't an actor,” she responded.

Reggie laughed. “I'm the only non-thespian here.” I thought that was a very subtle remark.

--ooOoo--

Sunday was a beautiful late autumn day, and Reggie and I decided to go for a drive in the country. The autumn leaves had changed the trees to multiple shades from gold to brown, and although the sun was shining, there was faint chill in the air, that unmistakable sense of the season closing and heading into winter.

I chose a summer dress, worn with a full slip, and also decided to wear tights. It's amazing how such thin nylon helps to keep legs warm. I've heard stories of postmen and various outdoor tradesmen wearing them in winter for just that reason, well I assume that's the reason!

As we drove down country lanes, sometimes through piles of dead leaves on the road, I was reminded of the poem ‘Ode to Autumn' by John Keats, and began to recite it:

'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close-bosom friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run,
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core.....'

I paused, suddenly embarrassed and said “I'm sorry Reggie, you must think I'm showing off”

“Not at all,” he replied, dear man that he was. “I like to hear you recite poetry. You must have an encyclopaedia of it in your head.”

Now I was blushing. “It's that darn memory of mine.”

“Don't knock it,” he said. “It's your livelihood. Now let's hear the rest of it.”

We stopped for lunch in a little village pub. I've been all over the world, but there is still nothing to compare to an English pub, nothing.

We ate slowly, sitting opposite each other at a small table, sometimes smiling for no other reason than that we were glad to be there with each other. It was indeed the best of times.

It was with a sense of reluctance that we finally drove back to the flat at Stratford for Reggie to pick up his suitcase and take the train back to York.

“I'll ring you, and I'll send you an email,” I said, as we shared a final kiss before he stepped on the train. I watched it disappear into the distance, and I suddenly shivered. I thought of that mediaeval expression 'someone is walking over my grave. 'What a silly superstition,' I muttered to myself as I walked out of the station and headed for where I had parked my car, but I still couldn't get it out of my head.

As I drove back to the flat I suddenly realised that I was becoming superstitious myself, a common occurrence among the acting fraternity. I had certainly adopted the practice of saying ‘break a leg’ to other cast members, and would never risk referring to a certain Shakespeare play as anything other than ‘The Scottish Play’, unless I should be involved in a production of it, when apparently it’s alright to use the proper title.

The season of 'Twelfth Night' continued, with near full houses every night. I suppose it's not surprising. For many people, especially overseas visitors, a visit to Stratford is on their 'bucket list', and part of that is to see Shakespeare performed by one of the most famous theatre companies in Britain. Every day I thanked my lucky stars that I was part of it.

I knew that the next production was indeed to be 'The Scottish Play', and there was no suitable role for me in that, so it looked like I might be 'resting' for a while. My sights were set on the following production – 'Romeo and Juliet', and especially on the lead role.

As the end of the 'Twelfth Night' season approached, I wondered about Mary's plans for the future. However, I didn't feel entitled to approach her on the subject, so it was with some relief that one morning when we were having breakfast, she brought up the subject herself. Scarlett had been staying three or four nights a week at one stage, but now less frequently, and this was one of those mornings when she hadn't stayed over.

“Harriet, I'd like to talk to you about the end of the season,” said Mary as she buttered some more toast.

“Oh yes?” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, although my heart beat increased slightly.

“Yes, you've been very patient in not pushing me about my plans, but now they are finalised. I've decided to return to Bridchester. I've been in touch with Apollo and they would be glad to have me back, but there's something else as well. I don't think you've ever met Charlie. He's a guy I've been going out with off and on for years. Well, the last time I was there, he asked me to marry him.”

“And will you?” I asked.

“Well, I didn't say 'yes' and I didn't say 'no'. I asked him to give me time to think about it.”

Somehow that didn't sound very romantic to me, although I suppose it was a very practical response.

“When I go back to Brid, he's bound to ask me again and this time I'll say 'yes',” she continued. “I want to spend a few more years acting, after all I'm only twenty-one, so we might be engaged for a couple of years, and maybe move in together, but after that I'd like to settle down and have a house and a family, and maybe still do a little acting too.”

“I see,” I said, since there didn't seem to be any more comment called for, and Mary had obviously worked everything out in her head, but she hadn't finished yet.

“I'm sure you're wondering about Scarlett,” she continued. “I have to tell you that it was just a 'fling', both on her side and mine. It's something I was always curious about, and now my curiosity is satisfied and I've decided that it's not what I really want.”

“Have you told her?” I asked.

“We've discussed it, yes, and we are parting amicably, so she won't be staying over again. She'll find someone else in no time, I'm quite sure of that, after all she's a very attractive woman. There is one thing though, Charlie doesn't need to know about Scarlett.”

“Well, he won't hear about her from me,” I responded.

“Thank you,” she said. To me, it seemed a strange way of starting a relationship commitment, keeping something as major as that from your partner, but if that was the way Mary wanted it, it was none of my business.

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 16   One door closes, another opens.

Five months had passed since I came to Stratford, and the 'Twelfth Night' season had come to a close. It had been a great success, and I had enjoyed myself enormously playing comedy. There's always a tinge of sadness at the end of a season. We had the traditional party with drinks and finger food, and everyone walked around and hugged everyone else. It was a parting of the ways. No doubt some of us would meet up with people from the cast in other productions, but it might be years in the future; others we might never come across again.

Somehow Scarlett encountered me, by accident or design, I'm not sure which, in a corridor outside the main room.

“Well this is goodbye for now,” she said. “I'm off to Birmingham tomorrow. I've enjoyed working with you. You're star material whether you know it or not, and some day I'll be dining out on the fact that I worked with you early in your career.”

She had me blushing, as I'm sure she knew she would. Then before we parted she came close and I expected a kiss on the cheek as I'd been exchanging with other members of the cast. However, this time it was a kiss full on the lips, no tongue but still quite intense. When our lips finally parted she said “I just wanted to know what it was like to kiss you, just once.”

“And?” I said.

“It was nice, very nice,” she said. “You know, you should 'take a walk on the wild side', you might enjoy it.”

I nearly burst out laughing, thinking of the Lou Reed song of the same name, and some lyrics that were not a million miles away from my own situation. However, all I said was “I'll bear that in mind.”

With that we both returned to the room where everyone was enjoying the largesse of the management.

The following day Mary was leaving for Bridchester. I think we both felt a bit sad that we were parting company, even though I knew I would see her from time to time when I visited Brid. During her time in Stratford, she had accumulated more than a few extra clothes; in fact she had had to buy another large suitcase to accommodate them all, and her little car was quite loaded down. We gave each other a hug and there were wet cheeks on both sides before she finally got into her car and drove away. When I walked back into the flat it seemed suddenly very empty.

I wondered what I should do. Ideally another flat-mate would be good to have, both from the company and financial point of view, but there were problems of course. It couldn't be just anyone, because, particularly with my surgery coming up, anyone I shared with would have to know more about me than I wanted to make public.

Sometimes serendipity happens in real life as well as in stories. From time to time I still met up with Dale for lunch and this happened to be one of those days. It wasn't really a coincidence. I knew I was going to feel a bit lost when Mary left, so I had phoned Dale a few days earlier and asked him if he was free for lunch that Sunday, and fortunately he was.

We met up at a pub a few miles out of Stratford, since it gets so crowded at weekends. It was a warm day, and I wore one of my flowery summer dresses with bare legs and sandals. We sat out in the beer garden which was fairly empty, and passed a pleasant couple of hours eating a pub lunch and chatting about what had been going on in our lives.

Dale had been down to London to see Frank the previous weekend. “His exams are coming up and he's getting very stressed,” he said. “I said I shouldn't be coming down and taking him away from his studies, but he sounded so upset at that suggestion that I just had to go.”

“Well, I'm sure that cheered him up, and he probably went back to his studies with renewed vigour,” I replied.

“Thanks for that, Harriet,” he smiled. “You always manage to say the right thing.” He sighed. “You know, I wish I could afford to leave home. I'm much too old to be still living with Mum and Dad, and it does place a lot of restrictions on me.”

Nowadays, since I am older, I like to think that I engage my brain first and then open my mouth, but I didn't always do it in that order, and that was one of those occasions.

“Well I've got a spare room now that Mary's gone back to Brid,” I said, and then almost gulped, realising what I had said.

“Really?” said Dale. “So are you looking for someone to take it?”

I could hardly say 'no' now, and in fact I wondered if I really wanted to. Dale didn't know about me of course, but if I could trust anyone with my secret, it would be him. I looked around, and the nearest people were sitting some distance away, so I lowered my voice and said “Well before you make a decision, you need to know something in confidence about me.”

Dale laughed. “Don't tell me, you're really a boy.” He stopped laughing when he saw the look on my face. “I was joking Harriet, you're the most feminine girl I've ever met. I'm sorry, that remark was in really bad taste.”

I took a deep breath. “Well, that's what I was going to tell you Dale. Yes, I'm a girl and always have been, but the fact is that I was born with a boy's body and at present I'm taking steps to change it to the way it should be.”

Dale was staring at me in amazement. “I meant what I said Harriet. I never for a moment thought you were anything other than a one hundred percent female.”

It was my turn to laugh now. ”'How very reassuring', as the Queen is said to have responded to someone who told her how much she looked like the Queen. The fact is I'm ninety female, but I'm getting there.”

We were both laughing now. “Seriously though, you had to know if you want to share with me, because in the not too distant future, I will be having some surgery.”

Dale blushed, and I felt bad. “Sorry. Was that too much information?” I said.

“No, it's alright,” he replied, but I wondered if he felt a bit uncomfortable with me now.

“Look, why don't you think about it and let me know?” I said.

“No, it's fine, that's if I can afford it. How much rent am I looking at?”

I told him, and he replied that he could cope with that.

“One thing you might be wondering. It will be your room, and if you want Frank to stay over, that's not a problem for me.”

His face broke into a smile. “I hadn't thought that far ahead, but that would be wonderful,” he said. He hesitated, and then said. “Since we are sharing confidences, t here's something I should tell you too. Sometimes when I visit Frank in London, he likes to dress as a girl when we go out together, and he's then called Frances.” He looked at me. “You don't seem very surprised.”

“That's because I'm not,” I replied. “When I first saw Frank, I knew that with the right wig, makeup and dress, he would appear very convincing as a girl. There is a difference between him and me, though. Unless I'm mistaken, even when Frank dresses as a girl, he's still Frank, whereas I'm Harriet whether I'm in a skirt or trousers.”

“Yes, I understand that now,” said Dale.

“So, when do you want to move in?” I smiled.

“Within a week,” said Dale. “I'll tell Mum and Dad of your offer when I get home this evening. I don't think Dad will mind, although Mum might be sad having to face the fact that her 'little boy' has grown up and wants to leave home.”

“I think my Mum was a bit sad when I moved to London. We thought it was only going to be for a few months, but it's getting on for a year now, and I can't see myself going back to Brid any time soon. Reggie told me that I'd outgrown the Apollo Theatre. I hope it doesn't sound like I'm boasting, but I think he's right.”

“How is Reggie going?” said Dale. It occurred to me that perhaps he was waiting for an opportunity to mention my boyfriend.

“He's in York as you know, and he seems to be doing well. I hope to see him soon, but he needed the time to get settled in. I'm afraid that we are going to have a long-distance relationship for a while, but it can't be helped. We both have careers to develop.”

Actually, I was a bit worried about how the relationship between Reggie and I was going to cope with the distance between us and our commitments, and I decided then and there that I must get to York to see him. I planned to visit my family in Bridchester soon, and York was only about an hour away from there, so I could combine the two visits.

I was now officially 'resting'. This was the first time I hadn't had continuous work in the theatre, and it made me feel a little uncomfortable. Supposing I didn't get the rôle of Juliet, what then? I decided that I must ring my agent Richard Green, but he saved me the trouble by ringing me the next day.

“Hello Harriet, how are things going?” he asked.

“I'm fine thank you, but it's rather a strange feeling not to be working.”

“Well now, that's where I might be able to help you. I know you've got to stay in Stratford to audition for Juliet next week, so I haven't looked for anything that requires you to move, but I've had an enquiry from one of the companies that produces audio books. They've become very popular with people who listen to them while driving or taking the train to work. They have decided to make a new recording of 'Alice in Wonderland' and they are looking for a young female voice for their recording. I immediately thought of you. How would you feel about doing it?”

“That would suit me very well, Richard. I've had a little experience because I recorded some bible passages for the minister at Mum's church in Bridchester.”

“Excellent!” he responded. “Could you possibly record the first chapter of 'Alice', put it on a CD and post it to me to send to them as an audition?”

“Well the audio guys at the theatre loaned me their Nagra for the bible recording and then put it on CDs, so I'll ask them if I can borrow it again. They're very accommodating, so I'm sure it will be alright.”

The following day, I walked to the theatre, and made my way down to the basement of the building where the audio technicians Pete and Des plied their trade. I knocked on the door and entered. Pete had both hands deep in the bowels of a box of electronics on the bench, and he looked up and smiled when he saw me.

“Hello Harriet, do you have to record more bible passages?” he enquired.

I blushed. “Is that a way of saying that you only see me when I want something?” I asked with a smile.

“Not at all, but we are a bit out of the way here, so we normally only see someone when something needs doing or fixing,” he replied.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I did come down to ask if I could borrow the Nagra again,” I replied, and told him about the proposed recording job.

“That sounds great,” he said. “I guess it means you'll get paid too. I'll probably embarrass you again if I say you have an excellent voice, but you do, so yes, you can borrow the Nagra, and we'll transfer the recording to a CD for you.”

“Thanks Pete, you're a brick,” I said.

“Now you're here, you can do something for me,” he said. “Des is up in the auditorium at the moment, and I need three hands. Can you hold a couple of wires for me while I solder them please?”

“Sure,” I replied, and walked over to the bench. Pete gave me a wire to hold against a piece of metal, and I watched fascinated as he took the iron in one hand and the solder in the other, and with the delicacy of a surgeon touched the two together, dropping some liquid solder onto the joint. I held it there for about ten seconds and then Pete told me to give the wire a tug. It was solidly fastened. He got me to repeat the process with a second wire.

“There! We'll teach you to be an audio tech yet,” he laughed.

“It might be a useful back-up if I don't get another role,” I replied.

“I hear you'll be auditioning for Juliet, and stand a good chance,” said Pete. He smiled at my puzzled look. “You wonder how I got to hear. You forget, we're often working in the theatre. Sometimes we're up in the flies rigging audio gear, and people forget that we're there when they're having private conversations.”

“Well I hope you're right,” I said. “Yes, I am auditioning for it, but so is every young Shakespearean actress in Britain. I rate my chances no better than fair.”

“Have it your way, but I'd put them rather better than that,” he said. “I've seen you on stage and you know what you're doing alright. Anyway, I'm embarrassing you, so I'll go and get the Nagra.”

When I first arrived in Stratford I had joined the local library and borrowed a few books on acting and stagecraft. I was aware that they had some audio books available to borrow, so now I made my way to the restored 15th century timber-frame building in Henley Street and had a look at what was on offer. I was particularly interested to see who was making the recordings, and saw some very famous names from the British stage, including Roy Dotrice and Paul Eddington. I didn't see any narrated by Dame Emily, but later discovered that she had recorded a few books. The people making these recordings were amongst the cream of British acting, so if I secured this contract I would be amongst some impressive company!

I selected a couple of audio books to take back to the flat so that I could gain an impression of how the actors approached their task of making the recordings, and I also managed to borrow a copy of 'Alice in Wonderland' which saved me having to buy one.

That afternoon, I set up the Nagra in my bedroom, closed the curtains to deaden the sound, propped 'Alice' open at the first page, and began my recording:

“Olympic Audio Books presents ‘Alice in Wonderland’, by Lewis Carroll, read by Harriet Stow. Chapter One – Down the Rabbit Hole.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do. Once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice, ‘without pictures or conversations?’....."

I recorded the text of the first chapter twice, and listened to the two versions critically, before deciding that my first effort was the best. Then I packed up the Nagra so that I could return it to Pete the next day. As promised, he had the recording on CD for me a day later, and I had a quick listen before posting it off to Richard Green. What could I say? It sounded alright to me, although everyone thinks their recorded voice sounds a little strange. Since neither Pete nor Des were drinkers I expressed my thanks with a large box of chocolates.

Two days later, Richard was on the phone to me. “Thanks for the CD, Harriet. That sounds great to me, but it all depends on the voice they want of course. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

It was a week later that he contacted me again. “Good news. They want you to make the recording. They said your voice is exactly what they were looking for, and while what you did was excellent for an amateur recording, they will want you to go to a professional recording studio. They suggested one in Warwick, which isn't too far from Stratford.

“Another thing they want is a professional photograph of you to go on the CD case. They'll organise that in Warwick too. I'll post the contract to you in the next couple of days, and if this recording goes well, there may be some more work coming up.” He then told me how much I would be paid, and I was very happy with what he had negotiated. It had been a great day for me when Dame Emily suggested to her own agent that he handle my financial and professional affairs.

The contract and details of whom to contact at the recording and photographic studios arrived two days later, and I made appointments at both, as well as signing the contract and sending it back.

I decided to wait until Dale moved in before I drove to Bridchester. Stratford isn't exactly a hotbed of crime, nevertheless there seemed no point in leaving the flat empty overnight just for the sake of a couple of days. He phoned me to tell me he would arrive a few days later if that was alright, so I made sure that the flat looked tidy, with all the breakfast things put away before he was due to arrive. It was just as well I did so, as when his car drew up outside, I saw that there was an older woman sitting in the car.

They both got out and walked up to the front door.

“Good morning Harriet, this is my mother Mrs Swenson, I don't think you've met,” said Dale. He looked a bit embarrassed, and I guessed that his mother had decided at the last minute to accompany him and check out me and the flat.

“Harriet, how nice to meet you; please call me Jean,” she said, holding out her hand. I shook it in the approved female manner, not too vigorously, before asking them both to step inside.

Jean Swenson had a sharp eye, and I was so glad that the flat looked tidy. She nodded approvingly as I gave her a guided tour and showed her the room which would now be Dale's.

“Dale tells me you are an actress at the theatre. That must be an interesting occupation,” she said. “What are you performing in at present?”

“I've just finished a season of 'Twelfth Night',” I replied. “I'm about to audition for 'Romeo and Juliet', and in the meantime I'm going to record an audio book of 'Alice in Wonderland'.”

“Excellent,” she replied. I could tell what was on her mind. She was concerned that I might be out of work and would be relying on Dale to make the rent payments, so I wanted to make sure she realised I could pay my own way. Dale was standing behind her and he winked at me. He knew what she was thinking too.

“Well, I won't get in your way, Dale. I'm sure you want to start unpacking your things, so if you just drop me off at the driving school, I'll let you get on with it,” she said. It seemed that I and the flat had gained the tick of approval.

Dale drove his mother back as she requested and ten minutes later arrived back at the flat.

“I'm sorry about that,” he said. “I think she had it all planned to check you out, as it was a last minute decision for her to come too. Well, she made it look that way.”

“That's alright Dale, she's not likely to keep popping round, is she? Fortunately I had washed up after breakfast, but I can't say the flat will always look so tidy.”

He laughed. “No, you passed the 'Mum Test', and she spoke highly of you on the way back to the driving school.” With that he went to his bedroom to start unpacking his things, so I left him to it.

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 17  The audition for Juliet.

The day finally arrived for the first of the auditions, which was to be for the role of Juliet. As I expected, there had been unprecedented interest from all the young Shakespearean actresses in Britain and apparently there had been some preliminary auditions in order to whittle the numbers down to a manageable number. I had not been involved in these since it seemed I had already been placed on the short list. This was certainly encouraging.

I had decided to wear a pretty, floor length, floral, shift dress for the audition which I thought made me look younger; Juliet, after all is supposed to be only about fourteen years old. I had seen other actresses turn up to auditions in jeans or trousers and in my humble opinion that showed a lack of effort on their part. Perhaps I was wrong, but I still felt more comfortable in a dress.

I had received a note to arrive in one of the rehearsal rooms at the theatre at eleven o'clock in the morning, and timed myself to arrive five minutes early so that I wasn't hanging around and possibly getting nervous.

As I parked and got out of my car, another car drove quickly into the car park and stopped alongside mine. A young woman got out and her face looked vaguely familiar although I couldn't place her.

“Hello, are you auditioning for Juliet as well?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “I'm Harriet Stow.”

“Cassandra Evans, please call me Cassie,” she replied.

Of course! Now I knew where I had seen her. It was in a photograph at Dame Emily's flat. This was her actress daughter. She saw from the look on my face that I now realised who she was.

“We haven't met, but Mum speaks very highly of you,” she said. “We might be rivals for the role but I hope we can still be friends.”

“I hope so too,” I said. “Dame Emily has been a wonderful mentor to me. If it were not for her, I wouldn't be here in Stratford today,” I replied.

“I know I sound biased because she's my Mum, but I really admire her for nurturing new talent. Oh, one other thing, I know some people think she uses her influence to get me roles and I tell everyone that she absolutely doesn't. In fact when I told her I wanted to be an actor like my parents she tried to talk me out of it, and said that a job with a regular salary and hours was a much better idea.”

“But not nearly so interesting,” I said, and we both laughed.

Since Cassie hadn't been to Stratford before, I showed her where the rehearsal room was. Six other young women were already present, and I suspected some had been there a while and already looked nervous. We exchanged 'hellos' and then an older woman whom I knew entered the room.

“Good morning ladies, I'm Rosa Fernandez, the Artistic Director here at Stratford and I want to welcome you all to the audition for Juliet. As some of you know, there has been unprecedented interest in this production of 'Romeo and Juliet', and we had to conduct preliminary auditions in order to reduce the numbers of people here to a manageable number. I’m sure any one of you could perform the role well, but unfortunately we can't accommodate eight Juliets, so some of you will be disappointed. Nevertheless, I hope you will regard your presence here as equivalent to an Oscar nomination which in itself is worthy of a place on your CV.

“I will now take you down to the theatre to meet the Director, Paul Norad. You've probably heard of Paul even if you haven't worked with him, as he's one of Britain's finest Shakespearean directors, so you'll be in good hands. Before I do, I know that some people like to be first and some last in auditions, so to be fair I have eight numbered blocks in this bag and I want each of you to reach in and take one, which will determine the order in which you appear.”

I noticed that Miss Fernandez made no sign of recognising me as we each walked up to take a number. I suspected that she didn't want to give any impression of favouritism. I pulled out a block – number one! Oh well, perhaps that was a good thing.

Once all the numbers had been allocated and checked against her list, we followed her down to the theatre. We all took a seat in the stalls, while a tall man with a beard standing on the stage stepped forward and introduced himself.

“Good morning ladies, I'm Paul Norad and I am the Director of this production of 'Romeo and Juliet'. I would like to thank you all for coming here today. You have all been asked to rehearse the Balcony Scene and also prepare another speech from Shakespeare.

“To assist us today, we have been fortunate in securing the services of Richard Jenkins who will be auditioning for the role of Romeo and who will play opposite you.”

At this point a young man with boyish good looks walked onto the stage and gave us all a broad smile.

Paul looked at the list he was holding. “Could we have Miss Harriet Stow on stage please?”

I took a deep breath, this was it. I walked down the aisle to the stage and up the steps. A small rostrum with a handrail had been placed on the stage to represent the balcony, and I took my place on it.

Paul said. “Richard, since the scene starts with a rather long speech from Romeo, could you please start at ' See how she leans her cheek upon her hand'?

What can I say? We clicked immediately. Looking back I don't think Paul really intended us to do the whole scene together since it is quite long, instead I prefer to think that hearing us he was loathe to call a halt.

At the conclusion there was a smattering of polite applause from the girls in the auditorium.

“Thank you very much Harriet and Richard,” he said. Richard smiled and walked off stage.

“Harriet, I understand that you stepped in at short notice to play Queen Gertrude for two nights during the season of Hamlet. Would you favour us with her speech on hearing of Ophelia's death please?”

The speech I had prepared was from 'Twelfth Night' ('I left no ring with her: what means this lady?'), but I said “I would be happy to, Mr Norad.”

He had asked me to recite one of my favourite speeches. I composed myself, imagining that I was no longer a young girl but an older woman and started to recite –

'There is a willow grows aslant a brook
That shows his hoar leaves in the glass stream...'

There was a moment's silence after I finished which I always take as a greater compliment than the applause that follows. Even Paul Norad seemed moved when he said “Thank you Miss Stow, that will be all for now.”

I smiled at him and left the stage, taking up my seat in the stalls again next to Cassie.

She leaned over and whispered “Wow girl, you set the bar high.” I smiled at her and whispered back “I did the best I could.”

One by one the other girls were called up, and in all but one instance, Cassie, they were not asked to complete the whole of the balcony scene. She was good, no make that 'remarkable', definitely the one to beat in my view.

After the conclusion of the auditions and Paul saying he would let us know, Cassie and I walked back to our cars. Neither of us wanted to say what we thought might happen. My personal opinion was that she would probably get the role and I might get understudy, but I kept that to myself. We exchanged phone numbers and said we hoped to see each other again.

Back at the flat I made myself a sandwich and a cup of tea and settled down with 'Alice' to continue reading the story and rehearse it in my mind, while waiting for the phone call, hoping it wouldn't take too long. When the phone did ring I jumped.

“Miss Stow? It's Paul Norad here, how are you?”

“Fine thank you Mr Norad.”

“Well I won't beat around the bush,” he said, and proceeded to do exactly that. “All of the people who attended the audition were excellent and any one of you could have played the part well.”

'Here it comes, the 'thanks but no thanks' speech,' I thought.

“However two candidates stood out, Cassie Evans and you.”

'So she's got it,’ I thought.

“So we've decided to do something a bit 'left field'. How would you feel about sharing the role with Cassie? It's a big part and quite demanding, and of course there will be a couple of days a week when there is a matinee as well as an evening performance. That can be really tiring. The person not performing would act as understudy, and you could take alternate performances. How does that sound?”

I was stunned. This was the last thing I expected.

“Yes Mr Norad, it would be a privilege to share a role with someone of Miss Evans' calibre.”

“I'm so glad you feel that way Miss Stow, she said the same thing about you. You might like to ring her, and I look forward to seeing you at the first rehearsal in three week's time.

“We will have a second understudy, Jemima Collier, who prefers to be called Jemma, just in case of emergencies. As you know, I heard about you stepping in for Dame Emily when she and her understudy were ill during the Hamlet season, and we couldn’t afford for that to happen in this production. Like you, Jemma has a phenomenal memory, and we’ll use her as an extra in the ball scene, and maybe some others. It’s her first time in a Shakespearean play, so I’m sure you’ll make her welcome.

“Oh one more thing, we have eight young men for the Romeo auditions on Friday. Would you be available to play Juliet in the Balcony Scene with them the way Richard did today for the Juliets? I did ask Cassie as well but she isn't available.”

“Yes of course Mr Norad, I'd be happy to help out.”

You don’t turn down a request from a Director who has just given you a dream role, and besides, it would be good practise for me. “And I’ll make sure that Jemma feels at home.”

After he rang off, I sat for a moment. My heart was pounding. It certainly didn't worry me sharing the role, and I was so glad that Cassie felt the same way. I picked up my phone and rang her and we congratulated each other.

“So we will be seeing each other quite soon,” she said.

“I look forward to it,” I replied.

“You don't happen to know anyone with a spare bedroom do you? I'll have to find somewhere to stay.”

“Sorry, what bad timing. I had a spare room last week when my flatmate went home to Bridchester, but a friend of mine has already moved in. I can make enquiries for you if you like?”

“Yes please, if you wouldn't mind.” she replied.

My next call was to Mum of course, and then to Emma. They were both as thrilled as I was, and both promised to come down to Stratford to see me perform.

That evening I rang Reggie and was more than a little surprised when a female voice answered his phone and asked who was calling.

“It's Harriet, his girlfriend,” I said, rather sharply.

There was a change in the background sound which I knew meant she had put her hand over the receiver, and I could hear voices. Then Reggie came on the phone. My heart was pounding but I tried to stay calm, after all, it was only six o'clock in the evening.

“Hi Harriet, how's it going?” he said.

“Fine thank you. I just thought you might like to know that I am to share the role of Juliet with Cassie Evans who is Dame Emily's daughter,” I said flatly.

“Wow! That's great news, congratulations!” he exclaimed and he did sound genuinely excited, far more so than I was now. Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything but I couldn't help myself. Jealousy had reared its ugly head.

“I won't keep you if you are busy,” I said.

“No, that's fine, Cindy and I were just working on one of the topics we're going to write an assessment on next week.”

“Well, good luck with that. I'm going up to Brid to visit Mum and Emma next week. Is it alright if I come and see you too while I'm up there?” I said.

“Of course,” he replied. “I'll look forward to seeing you.”

“I love you Reggie,” I said, rather abruptly.

“I love you too Harriet,” he replied. Alright, I had ambushed him into saying that. The green-eyed monster was well and truly on my shoulder and I didn't want this Cindy to get any ideas about my boyfriend.

After I had put the phone down, I had second thoughts. Why oh why had I done that to him? He couldn't be blamed if he was very angry with me. Tears started to roll down my cheeks. I nearly picked up the phone to ring him back, but I couldn't bear to humiliate myself in front of Cindy. Instead, I went into my bedroom and sobbed, just thankful that Dale was out. This was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life and instead it was one of the most miserable.

About an hour later, Reggie phoned me.

“Hi Harriet, I thought I'd ring you back. They've gone now.”

“They?” I said.

He laughed. “Yes, Cindy brought her friend Meryl along with her, like a chaperone I suppose. I didn't know I had that sort of reputation!”

I tried to make a joke of it. “Not Meryl Streep I suppose?”

“Err no, but I believe her mother is a great fan and that's where her name comes from.” He paused. “I'm sorry about her answering the phone, she had no right to do that.”

“Reggie, I'm sorry too. I must have sounded really jealous and insecure, and I've no reason to be.”

“No you don't, Harriet,” he said softly. “You're a strange mixture you know? I've seen you on stage in that huge theatre, holding about fourteen hundred people in the palm of your hand, and I'm sure every one of them thought you had the most self-confidence of anyone they've ever seen. Then there's another side to you, one that only those who know you best are allowed to see, a young woman who finds it hard to accept that there's someone who loves her with all his heart and always will.”

“Oh Reggie, I don't deserve you.” The tears were starting to flow again.

“You probably deserve someone much better,” he replied, “but I'm the one you're stuck with. I tell you what, why don't you turn on your computer and then we can talk and see each other?”

“Do you mind if we just chat on the phone?” I replied. I knew my face must look a mess and I didn't want him to see me like that.

“No of course not,” he replied. He knew of course, he's the smartest man I ever met.

“I really do want to come and see you soon. Rehearsals will start before we know it and I'll be tied up again.”

“That was wonderful news about you getting the part of Juliet. Are you sure you don't mind sharing the role?”

“No, of course not. I'm sure I will be at my best, since I'll have time to rest between performances. Fancy sharing the role with Dame Emily's daughter too!”

“Have you rung her, Dame Emily I mean?”

“I haven't really had time yet. I think I'll wait until tomorrow,” I said.

“That's a good idea,” he replied. “How about coming up next weekend? Can you make it? Maybe you can stay overnight in York. I would invite you to stay at the college, but I get the impression it's not exactly encouraged, so maybe an hotel would be better.” He added softly “I do miss our nights together.”

“Reggie I love you so much,” I replied.

“And I love you Harriet. You're the most wonderful girl in the world,” he replied.

“You are a sweetie," I said, and paused. "Do you want to tell me about Cindy?”

“Well if you really want to know, she's about six inches shorter than you, but probably weighs nearly twice as much. She has short black hair, wears trousers all the time, and has glasses with thick black rims. I also suspect that there's more going on between her and Meryl than just friendship.”

“You're not making this up are you Reggie?” I was laughing now.

“No, it's the plain truth. If it didn't make me seem shallow, I'd say she wasn't very attractive, but she has a brilliant mind to make up for it.”

“The reverse of me then,” I laughed.

“Anyone who can memorise great swathes of Shakespeare is no slouch in the brains department,” said Reggie.

On that happy note we said goodnight.

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 18   The Romeo audition

On Friday morning I presented myself at the theatre for the Romeo auditions, wearing the same dress that I had worn to the Juliet auditions.

Paul Norad was already standing on the stage checking over the script when I arrived.

“Thank you for making the time to attend these auditions, Harriet. It will make a difference if the young men know that they are auditioning with one of the young women who will be playing Juliet. I'll also be looking for chemistry between you and them.”

I felt myself blushing slightly as I said “It's a pleasure to help in any way I can Mr Norad.”

“Oh please, call me Paul,” he replied. “We've provided you with a dais to represent the balcony, if you would take your position there please.”

A few moments later, Miss Fernandez appeared followed by eight young men who took their seats in the stalls. She handed a clipboard to Paul and smiling at me said 'Congratulations Harriet', before she left the stage.

Paul stepped to the front of the stage and said. “Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Paul Norad and I am the Director of this production of 'Romeo and Juliet'. We are fortunate in having with us today Miss Harriet Stow (here he half-turned to indicate me) who is one of the two young ladies we have chosen to play Juliet. She will partner you in the 'balcony scene' that you have all been asked to prepare.”

He referred to the clipboard. “Would Charles Jeffrey please come up to the stage.”

A tall and incredibly good-looking young man stood and walked up the steps onto the apron. He looked very confident as he stepped up to stand near to the dais where I had taken my place.

“Please start from 'But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?',” said Paul.

Charles began, and he was good, very good, but somehow I didn't feel that chemistry that Paul mentioned. Paul let us run about half-way through the scene before saying “Thank you both, that will do.”

I smiled at Charles and left the stage. Meanwhile, Paul asked him for another Shakespearean soliloquy, and to my surprise he had chosen that old war-horse 'To be or not to be', from Hamlet. I thought that was a dangerous choice. Once you've heard Olivier, Branagh, Jacobi, and so many other famous actors play the part, you have to be very confident of your ability. I paused in the wings to listen. Charles was good, but he wasn't that good.

“Thank you Mr Jeffrey,” said Paul, and called up the next contender. I walked back on stage and took my position on the dais again.

It was an interesting exercise for me, playing the same scene with so many 'Romeos', each performance slightly different. The fourth contender, Donald Barrows was the best so far, but I still felt that something was missing. Perhaps it was because he was so obviously nervous.

Eventually we came to the final person to audition, Richard Jenkins. Since Richard had attended the Juliet auditions playing Romeo I knew him slightly, so I made a conscious decision not to let that influence me. He was shorter than the other young men and appeared younger. In my eyes this was a good thing.

I took my position on the dais and we began the scene. Sometimes in the theatre something special happens and it happened now. We had performed well together during my audition, but this was even better. Did someone lower the stage lights? I'm not sure, but I was transported out of the theatre in Stratford and stood on a balcony in Verona, gazing into the night sky above a garden, the air heavy with the scent of orchids; Juliet and her Romeo, two young lovers overwhelmed by the suddenness and depth of their emotions.

'O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet. '

My voice rang out as I put into the words all the agony and ecstasy of first love that I could muster.

The theatre was hushed as Paul let us play out the scene to its conclusion.

I spoke my final words:

'Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.'

And then Romeo in response:

'Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!'

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding, and this time the applause from the few people in the stalls was no longer polite but sincere and prolonged. A movement at the front of the stalls caught my eye and looking down I saw Duncan Morgan, the Executive Director standing there looking up at the stage. It was hard to read his expression, but he didn't seem displeased with what he had just witnessed.

After a moment's pause in which Paul seemed to gather himself together, he said quietly, “Thank you, both of you,” He didn't ask Richard for a soliloquy, but walked to the apron and said. “Thank you very much for attending today, gentlemen, we'll be in touch.” They all stood up as Richard rejoined them and then they trooped out of the theatre. I think they already knew. I was about to leave too when Paul said “Would you mind waiting for a moment Harriet?”

When we were alone he said “Well, there's no doubt we've found our Romeo. Tell me, in your eyes what made Richard so different to the others?”

“The others were young men. They seemed too mature and experienced. Richard appears like a boy, with a boy's wild enthusiasm and you could easily believe this was his first real time in love.”

“I couldn't have put it better myself, but I had to hear it from a young woman,” said Paul, “and the chemistry between you was there in spades.”

I felt myself blushing, and he laughed. “I'm sorry, but if a hardened old pro like me could feel it so deeply, imagine how an audience will feel. Now what about an understudy?”

“I would say Donald Barrows was the best of the others, but that's only my opinion. He did seem very nervous, so I don't think we saw him at his best.”

“We agree again!” said Paul. “I should employ you as my P.A.”

I laughed. “I mightn't always agree with you, Paul.”

He laughed in turn, “P.A's are easy to come by but a talent like yours would be wasted doing anything else but what you are already doing,” He paused for a moment. “Just in case you're wondering, Duncan did feel it was necessary to tell me about your background. I hope you don't mind.”

“Well it's becoming an open secret around here. I hope you don't mind.”

He laughed. “When someone performs as well as you did just now, I wouldn't mind if you had two heads!”

Changing the subject to hide my embarrassment I said “There's just one thing, how do you think Cassie will feel about these choices?”

“I can't think why she would object, they were definitely the best of the bunch. It would have been nice if she'd been here too but she's down at Lacock at present shooting one of those 'bonnet dramas' that the BBC does so well. You should try for one of those productions yourself, you'd be great.”

I smiled. It's always good to have a comfortable working relationship with a Director, and by bringing me into the Romeo selection process, Paul had done just that.

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 19   Recording 'Alice' and a visit to York.

The following day I drove to Warwick. I called first at the photographic studio. It seemed from the large prints in the window that they mainly specialised in wedding photos and family group portraits. I knew it was to be a 'head and shoulders' shot, but I still wore a nice dress and had taken more time than usual over my make-up. This turned out to be time wasted, as they had a make-up artist present who proceeded to wipe away all my efforts and start again.

I suspected that the final shot would be tiny – maybe half an inch square on the CD jacket, but enough care was taken with my hair and make-up as if I was sitting for one of those big prints that people like to hang on their walls nowadays. The photographer must have taken at least fifty shots, so I asked him if I could have some proofs, thinking that maybe I should get a few prints made to add to my C.V. This he was happy to do of course, and when I saw the prices later, I wasn't surprised.

The recording studio was only a couple of blocks away, so that was my next destination. The receptionist asked me to wait a few minutes, so I idled away the time leafing through an ancient copy of 'Melody Maker', almost a 'collectors' item' since by then it had merged with 'New Musical Express'. I could hear a rock band playing somewhere in the building and wondered about sound-proofing. Then a door opened and a tall thin man with a shock of red hair entered and thrust out his hand. “Hi, I'm Max Milligan, one of the recording engineers.”

“Harriet Stow, please to meet you,” I said, taking the proffered hand.

“I had a listen to your demo disk. It was pretty good. How did you do it?” he asked. I explained about the sound guys at Stratford.

“Ah, the old Nagra, aren't they amazing machines?” he said.

He showed me into a small studio. The control booth was tiny and mostly taken up by one of those huge desks with all the knobs and sliding controls and also a couple of large speakers. Then he took me into the studio itself where a chair was set up in front of a desk with a rack to hold the script, and an impressively large microphone hanging from the ceiling with a large round ring filled with what looked like nylon mesh placed in front of it. In answer to my query I was told that this was a pop filter, designed to stop the wind from the mouth destroying the recording quality while saying words beginning with the letter 'p' or 'b', the technical term for these being 'plosives'.

Max suggested that I start recording and see how I went. If I made a mistake, just to repeat from a line or two back and he would edit the recording later.

“We'll try for an hour the first time, but if you find you are getting tired then we'll stop because it shows up in the recording. Take a break and drink some water any time you feel the need. I can edit out any breaks in the recording.”

The text had been copied onto A4 sheets and Max showed me how to silently remove each one as I finished. This would make it easier than turning the pages of a book. He helped me to adjust some large earphones on my head and then walked into the control booth. A pre-arranged signal told me the recording had started and I began.

“Olympic Audio Books presents 'Alice in Wonderland', by Lewis Carroll, read by Harriet Stow. Chapter One – Down the Rabbit Hole.”

When I finished the first chapter, Max signalled me to stop and beckoned me into the control room.

“You're very good, no fluffs at all,” he said. “I'm just wondering though if you should take it just a little slower; have a listen.”

He flicked a switch, and I listened to the play-back for a few minutes.

“I see what you mean – it does sound a bit hurried at times,” I replied.

I went back into the booth and started again. This time I received the 'thumbs up' sign and kept going. Only once did I have to backtrack a couple of lines, and after about an hour, Max signalled for me to stop.

“That was excellent,” he said, “but I think it's enough for one day. When can you come back?”

“I'm free for most of the next three weeks until we start rehearsing Romeo and Juliet at Stratford,” I replied. “I'd like to have it finished before then.”

“And are you playing Juliet?” he said, sounding impressed.

“One of them. I'm sharing the rôle with another actress. We think it will work out better that way.”

“Well good luck with that,” he said. “Oh, I'm not really supposed to say that am I?”

“Well traditionally you say 'break a leg',” I said laughing. “You know how superstitious we stage people are.”

Before I left, we arranged another recording session the following Monday afternoon.

I drove back to Stratford feeling quite pleased with myself, probably because I was working again. On Thursday I would be driving up to Bridchester to see Mum and Emma, and then on Saturday I would be in York and seeing Reggie again for the weekend. Life was good.

Dale had settled into the flat with no problems. There are certain advantages sharing with a man, for one thing they don't take up so much time in the bathroom. There is also a sense of heightened security in having a man around.

When I arrived back in Stratford, Dale was there.

“I was going to tell you that Frank is coming up for the weekend,” he said. “I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course not,” I replied. “I told you that when I said I had a room available. As it happens you'll have the place to yourselves since I'm going up to Brid on Thursday to see the family, and then on to York to see Reggie. I'll be back on Monday.”

“We'll try to keep it tidy,” Dale smiled. “Frank will see to that.”

“How did his exams go?” I asked.

“He's waiting for his results but he seems pretty confident.”

I packed my suitcase and on Thursday I drove up to Bridchester without incident. Mum was so pleased to see me. I felt sorry for her; I knew she got lonely sometimes. Emma and I even suggested that she take in a lodger, but she said she was too set in her ways to accommodate someone else's way of doing things. Fortunately she lived only five minutes from Emma and David and was always welcome there although I knew she didn't visit too often 'in case she became a nuisance', as she put it.

“Mothers-in-law have a bad reputation, as you know,” she said to me once. I had laughed and said “You're the exception that proves the rule.” I was given a hug for that!

After I had taken my suitcase up to my room, we had a light lunch and then we drove to Emma's house. The new baby Elizabeth was already noticeably bigger than when I last saw her. I got to hold her again which I enjoyed. By now I felt sure I was getting over that niggling feeling of jealousy that I could never have a baby of my own, but then of course my old worries surfaced about how Reggie felt about a woman who couldn't give him a child.

That evening, David invited me to attend the Apollo's current production, which believe it or not was 'Twelfth Night'. Mary was playing Viola/Cesario, and I must admit I did detect certain similarities with my own performance in Stratford. That said, she did the rôles very well and there was plenty of applause at the end, including from me.

I called around to her dressing room to congratulate her, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. “That was a great performance, Mary.”

She beamed at my praise. “Well I did see you perform the rôles often enough. I hope you don't think I was copying you?”

“Not at all, you put your own stamp on it,” I said. No-one likes to think that their performance is seen as a carbon copy of someone else's.

“I heard that you got 'Juliet',” she said. “Congratulations, that's quite a coup.”

“You probably heard too that I'm sharing the rôle with Cassie Evans, Dame Emily's daughter? I'm actually very happy about that; it's a big rôle and this way we'll both stay fresh.”

“What about Romeo?”

“He's a young chap called Richard Jenkins. He was born in Wales but he hasn't got a strong accent, not when he's on-stage anyway. I do think the Welsh have a way with words; we had an amazing audition together, we just clicked.”

“It's a good thing Reggie isn't the jealous type,” said Mary, and laughed when I blushed.

“He's got nothing to worry about, it's only pretend love on stage,” I replied, but I couldn't help thinking of the quote from Hamlet 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks'. Goodness me, Shakespeare has a quote for any occasion.

Changing the subject I said “And how is your love-life going?”

May smiled, unlocked a drawer and taking out a small box opened it to reveal a diamond ring which she slipped on her finger.

“Congratulations!” I exclaimed. “That's wonderful news. Charlie is a lucky man.”

“I told you he'd ask me to marry him again, didn't I?” said Mary. “Now what's happening with you? I guess everything's on hold now you've got the Juliet rôle?”

“Yes, this was the only thing that would make me put surgery off, but it was too important a rôle to pass up, and it's only for a few months. Oh, I have got some news though, Dale has taken over your old room. He thought it was time he finally flew the nest.”

“That's great news,” said Mary “He's a really nice guy. I'm glad I mentioned it to him.”

This was news to me. It certainly made me glad I had offered Dale the room, he might have been quite upset if I hadn't and I would never have known why.

On Friday, Mum, Emma and I had a “girls' day out” together in Bridchester, doing some shopping and lunch. It was lovely to spend time with them again, and I realised how much I had missed them. I think the feeling was mutual. I told them all that had been going on at Stratford, especially the auditions for 'Romeo and Juliet'.

“You don't mind sharing the rôle?” Emma asked.

“Not at all. I might have done if Cassie wasn't such a good actress, but I feel we will match each other and maybe even encourage each other to perform better. I don't think it will matter to the audience which of us they see performing. By the way, we do have an understudy too, a young actress called Jemma Collier. She'll be there in case of emergencies and will do a non-speaking rôle as an extra.”

Emma laughed. “So Paul doesn't want to risk a repeat of that crisis in Hamlet when you had to step in for Dame Emily because her understudy was sick too! Now what about this young actor Richard Jenkins? How good is he?”

“Oh he's good alright. I've actually performed the balcony scene with him twice, once at my audition and once at his, and it was magical. We really clicked.” I saw the look on Mum's face and smiled. “You know acting, Mum. It's only make-believe on stage. He's going to do all, or at least most of the performances, but he'll have an understudy too of course. Cassie and I are effectively understudies or stand-bys for each other.”

“Isn't that unusual?” asked Mum.

“I suppose it is, but when you think about it, it's not a bad idea. It means we get more rest in between performances, provided neither of us gets sick.”

The following day I drove to York. I had booked a room in a motel for two nights, so I drove there first to drop off my suitcase and freshen up before driving to Derwent College at the University to meet up with Reggie. He was already signed up to play football with the College team, and knowing how talented he was I was sure it wouldn't be long before he was playing for the University.

It was a warm sunny day even though it was now well into autumn, so I wore a summer dress with bare legs and sandals. I was determined that if any of the other students saw us together they would know that Reggie's girlfriend was no push-over. If any other students saw us? I was counting on it.

I phoned Reggie as I left the motel and he was waiting for me when I drove up. There was a football match that afternoon between two of the colleges, so naturally enough I was going along to see him play. I confess I was always a bit worried that he might get injured while playing football, more so than when he played cricket, but I couldn't try to wrap him in cotton wool, no man wants that.

It was a good match; Reggie played well and nearly scored a goal but the ball hit the crossbar. Once he came out of the showers, we drove back to the College and he showed me his room and then got changed as we were going out to dinner. The room was small but comfortable with enough room for a single bed, a desk and bookshelves. He had packed a small suitcase as we would be staying overnight in the motel as he suggested.

As we walked back to where I had parked the car, I saw two students walking towards us. I didn't really have to ask and Reggie confirmed it as he said: “Hello Cindy, hello Meryl,” as they approached.

“Hi Reggie. This must be Harriet. Reggie tells us that you are an actress in Stratford, that must be an exciting life.” said Cindy.

“Well sometimes it's exciting, but it has its routine side, like any other job,” I said. “There's a lot of memorising to do.” I was determined not to sound like an air-head, but I don't think they really believed me.

“I don't know how you do it,” said Meryl. “Well we must be going, nice to meet you Harriet.” With that they walked off.

They seemed harmless enough, but something else happened that made me feel a lot less comfortable. Walking towards us was a tall and strikingly good looking young woman with long blonde hair and beautifully dressed. I would never have taken her for a student if it wasn't for the fact she was carrying a bag with the college crest on it. She didn't stop or speak, but her eyes swept over both of us as she passed, taking in me and the suitcase Reggie was holding. It was mainly her eyes that upset me, they were as cold as a snake's.

Once she was out of earshot I said to Reggie “Who was that?”

“I think her name's Sophie,” he replied and it seemed to me that there was a faint flush on his cheeks. When a man says he thinks he knows a woman's name, he is usually not telling the truth; either he knows or he doesn't know. I was determined that nothing would spoil our weekend together so I didn't pursue it, and did my best to put it out of my mind. We drove back to the motel and booked a taxi to take us to the restaurant after I had changed into an evening dress. After all, what's a dinner without wine, and neither of us will drive if we've been drinking.

Reggie waited while I had a shower and did my hair and makeup. When I provocatively reappeared in my French lingerie, it was exciting to see the man I loved gazing at me with shining eyes, and I felt feminine and vulnerable in silk and lace. Once I had stepped into my gown I asked him to zip it up. It was really an excuse to feel his strong arms touch me, and he couldn't resist kissing my neck at the same time that his hands cupped my breasts, which sent a shiver of excitement through my body. It was very tempting so say 'let's skip dinner', but I'm glad we didn't. Anticipation of what is to come is all part of a romantic evening.

We dined at Delrio's Italian Restaurant in Blossom Street. It's a cellar restaurant with vaulted brick alcoves, giving it a great atmosphere. Reggie had made a booking a week previously to make sure of getting a table. The food was excellent and it was a wonderful evening which of course didn't end with the meal. When we arrived back at the motel and Reggie unzipped my dress, it was the start of an amazing night. We had missed each other so much and with so little time together we were determined to make the most of it. When we finally fell into an exhausted sleep in each other's arms, it was well into the wee small hours.

The following morning after a late breakfast we went out for a day in York, which is an amazing city, founded by the Romans as Eboracum in 71AD. I had been on a school trip there in my former life, but had only seen a fraction of its incredible history. We visited the Minster which is an extraordinary building with amazing stained glass windows dating back to medieval times and sat for a while listening to the choir practising. Later we walked through the Shambles, stopped for some lunch and then visited the Jorvik Viking Centre*, travelling around the exhibits on the little train. Afterwards we had a look at the ancient walls of the city. It was a wonderful day.

We had tea and went back to the motel for the night. This time our love-making was more restrained since we had to get up early in the morning. Nonetheless, it was wonderful to 'spoon' with Reggie, feeling his hand gently holding one of my breasts as we drifted off to sleep.

We were up early the next morning and had our breakfast at seven-thirty. I dropped Reggie off at the university, and then took the road back towards Stratford. I confess I had looked for Sophie when I left Reggie outside Derwent College, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I had arranged to record some more chapters of 'Alice', starting at one o'clock in Warwick. As there were twelve chapters in all, Max had suggested that I attend for four recording sessions of three chapters each, with an extra recording session booked in case it was required. I arrived in Warwick with an hour to spare, so I parked the car at the studio and walked to a small cafe nearby for a sandwich and cup of tea, before returning to the studio to do the recording.

Everything went well, and I felt that I could have carried on but Max said that my voice might start to sound tired, so three chapters was enough.

When I arrived back at Stratford the flat was empty as Dale had yet to return. I have to say that it looked very tidy and I wondered if that was due to Dale or to Frank. I suspected I knew the answer to that. Then I checked the shopping list attached to the fridge door by a magnet in the shape of Shakespeare's bust.

Dale had agreed to continuing on the arrangement that Mary and I had worked out. We took it in turns to buy the normal groceries such as bread, milk, tea, coffee, cereal that we both used, and then at the end of the month, added up how much each of us had spent and split the cost equally. Naturally enough we also had our own personal items which we purchased separately.

I checked the fridge and the cupboards against the list and after adding a few items, I set out for the shops. I wasn't well-known enough yet to be recognised so there were no problems in going out to shop. I could well understand why high profile actors don't do their own shopping as they would probably be constantly waylaid by fans wanting to chat or have their photos taken.

Soon after I arrived back at the flat and was unpacking my purchases, my mobile phone rang. It was Cassie Evans.

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.

*The Jorvik Viking Centre suffered severe flooding in December 2015 and is now closed for renovations. It should re-open in Spring 2017 and is well worth a visit.

---

Chapter 20.   “The Professor”

“Hi Cassie, hows it going? I believe you're on location at present?” I said.

“Yes, Mum and I are down in Bath and Lacock. We're shooting a mini-series of 'The Professor'. It was Charlotte Bronte's first novel and the only one of her books that's never been filmed before.”

“Sounds like fun,” I said. “That's what they call a 'bonnet drama' isn't it?”

Cassie laughed. “On account of the fact that we're all wearing bonnets when we go outside,” she said. “Actually that's the reason I'm phoning you. Are you busy working at present?”

“Well I'm recording 'Alice in Wonderland' for an audio book, but apart from that I'm 'resting',” I said.

“That's what I thought. One of the girls in the cast had an accident today. You know we wear those long dresses with masses of petticoats; well she tripped over in the street at Lacock and broke her ankle.”

“Poor thing,” I responded.

“Well it's caused a bit of a crisis, and we urgently need to replace her Have you ever been to Lacock?” she asked.

“No I haven't but I understand it's a really old village owned by the National Trust and that it's been used in a number of films and television series before.”

“That's right. All the houses are eighteenth century or earlier. Once they take the cars out and put some dirt on the road, bang, you're back in the seventeen hundreds. The thing is, the production company books it for a set period of time and pays the residents for the inconvenience. We only have two more days there, so the director was tearing his hair out when Jane had her accident, and that's when I thought of you.”

“Me?”

“That's right. How would you like to step in and replace Jane? It's only a small part of about twenty lines but it would be a good introduction to what it's like doing television drama. I spoke to Mum and she agreed you could easily do it, so we spoke to Michael the director and he's happy to take you on Mum's recommendation. There's just one thing, you'd need to be here by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, I could certainly do that, it's only a couple of hours' drive from here isn't it? I was just unpacking from visiting the family, so I'll just throw all my stuff back in the suitcase again.”

“Great,” said Cassie. “I look forward to seeing you. Mum says you should ring your agent. He'll know who to talk to at the BBC, and he'll negotiate the contract for you of course. We're staying at the Abbey Hotel in Bath, and they've got a couple of single rooms free. I'll get them to reserve one for you. Can you come down tonight?”

“Yes of course. I believe you have to be on the set very early don't you?”

She laughed. “Yes we do. However the forecast says rain tomorrow so we may not get much shooting done. That will mean even more pressure on Tuesday to get it all in the can. Anyway, I'd better not hold you up; ring your agent right away, and I'll look forward to seeing you this evening.”

I did as she suggested. Fortunately Richard answered straight away, so I explained the situation to him.

“Leave it to me,” he said. “I'll get in touch with the Drama Department at the BBC and they'll put me onto the right people. Are you alright about getting to Bath this evening?”

“Yes, I'll drive down,” I replied. “I'll be fine.”

When I put the phone down I wondered if I was being too optimistic. It would be dark before I arrived there, and I hadn't done much night driving. I started sorting out some clothes to take with me and it was then I heard the front door open an Dale came in. I went out to see him.

“Hi Harriet, how was the trip?” he said.

“It was great, Dale. My niece is growing already; all the rest of the family are well, and best of all I got to see Reggie. How was your weekend?”

Was it my imagination or did he colour slightly?

“We had a great time too,” he said. “I hope we left the place looking tidy?”

I laughed. “It looks fine to me. Actually it turns out I'm not stopping. I've been offered a small role in a 'bonnet drama' the BBC are shooting down in Lacock. I'll be replacing one of the cast who's had an accident. I have to drive down tonight because they need me there tomorrow.”

“Wow, you are becoming the 'go to' girl when there's an emergency.”

“I think you're right,” I laughed. “There's definitely a pattern developing here.”

Dale looked at me. “You said you're driving down, would you like me to come along with you?”

“I can't ask you to do that Dale, you've just put in a day's work and you'll be tired.”

“No, it's fine. I know you haven't done a lot of night driving.”

“Well that would be wonderful, Dale, I'd really appreciate it.”

“Then that's what we'll do,” he responded. “I'll have to drive back of course, but then I could come down again and pick you up when you're finished. How many days is it for?”

“Only two as far as I know. Would you like me to make you something to eat and then we can go as soon as I finish packing?”

“I'll do it,” he responded. “Is egg on toast alright?”

“Fine,” I laughed, and went back to packing.

After eating, we set off for Bath in Dale's Jaguar, taking the A46 down to the M5 motorway. I drove part of the way, and then handed over to Dale. About half-way to Bath my mobile phone rang. It was Richard ringing to tell me that he had spoken to the people at the BBC and arranged a contract for me. When he told me the salary he had negotiated I was surprised and pleased.

“And that's for two days' work?” I said.

Richard laughed. “You're doing them a favour, helping them out in an emergency, and probably saving them a lot of money so they're happy to pay extra for that. I must say you're certainly no Oliver Twist, you never ask for more. I wish all my clients were the same. By the way, my most prestigious client is just like you.”

“I suppose I'm still getting used to the idea that people will pay me for what I love doing,” I replied.

“That's funny, she says the same thing,” he said, laughing.

The trip took about two hours driving although we did stop for a drink along the way. We arrived at the Abbey Hotel just after six o'clock, and Dale insisted on bringing in my suitcase, he's a real gentleman. Dame Emily and Cassie were waiting in the lobby when we arrived, and I introduced Dale to them, and explained that he had kindly offered to accompany me on the drive down as he didn't like the idea of me travelling on my own.

“That was very kind of you Dale,” said Dame Emily. “I'm sure Harriet explained we had a bit of a crisis here and you have helped resolve it.”

Dale looked a bit awestruck at meeting Dame Emily, but he said it was a pleasure and he was happy to help. After he left, refusing to even stay for a cup of tea, Dame Emily and Cassie showed me to my room. It looked very nice and comfortable. They had a copy of the script for me, and they were right, it was only twenty or so lines. I would be playing the part of Sylvie, one of the students at the school where the main character William Crimsworth teaches. It certainly wouldn't take long to learn my lines.

Later I joined them for dinner and we talked about the production and how it was going. “Charlotte Bronte is so famous, why hasn't this novel ever been filmed before?” I asked.

“Well it was her first novel and rejected by many publishers. In fact it was published posthumously after she gained fame with Jane Eyre. Her other novels, 'Shirley' and 'Villette' are not so well-known either, but they have been filmed. I suppose you could say she was developing her talent in 'The Professor' and it shows,” said Dame Emily.

The next morning I was up early and joined the other cast members and crew for breakfast at six-thirty. The bus arrived at seven-thirty to take us to Lacock. The clouds were very heavy and the forecast was not promising, but I had to be fitted for a costume and maybe have some rehearsals even if we were unable to shoot any scenes.

Lacock is a truly amazing place. Since that time I have been there when it was not being used for a shoot and I must say that it was the modern cars that seemed out of place – a real anachronism. The day of the shooting, a few cars were to be seen, but only in side streets for fear that tyre tracks would be visible in the roads which were covered in earth. The main street looked exactly as it would have done in eighteenth century England.

Cassie took me to meet the director, Michael O'Toole and he greeted me warmly.

“It's good of you to come at such short notice to help us out, Harriet,” he said in a broad Irish accent. “Dame Emily speaks highly of you and I'm sure you will acquit yourself well.” Someone came up to speak to him then, and he was gone.

I was taken to a local hall which was being used as a dressing room for the cast, and introduced to the wardrobe mistress, Clare Stevens. She ran a professional eye over me and declared that I would almost certainly fit into one of the costumes which had been prepared for Jane, the girl who had broken her ankle.

“At that time, most women were wearing corsets, but you'll be pleased to know that we won't be lacing you up too tightly since you have a naturally slim waist anyway,” she said. She took me behind some screens and asked me to strip down to my underwear. She produced and fitted a corset which had the effect of making my already slim waist appear even slimmer. Then I had to step into several layers of petticoats which were tied to my waist, and finally the dress with its voluminous skirts was lowered over my head. Clare looked at me critically. “Yes, I think that will do nicely,” she said. “The weather seems to be clearing a bit, so I'd better take these off you again so that you can go to makeup and get your hair styled.”

I put on my dressing gown and went to see the hairdresser. Fortunately my hair was quite long, as it was now styled with curls over my forehead and a chignon to hold it at the back of my neck, a classic Greek or Roman style very much in vogue at the start of the nineteenth century. Of course, for exterior shots it would be covered by the ubiquitous bonnet. The makeup was more modern, thank goodness, no mercury or lead involved!

One of the assistants came in to say that the weather was holding, overcast but no rain, so could I get dressed please? Back I went to the wardrobe assistant to dress again. Four hours had passed so far and not a shot yet taken. It seemed that the rumours that movie-making involved a lot of hanging around were true. Viewing myself in a full-length mirror, I had to say that the fashion of the time was very feminine and I really liked it, impractical as those voluminous skirts were. Still those were different times and young ladies were expected to proceed at a more leisurely pace.

I met up with the other three young girls who played Eulalie, Hortense and Caroline, and we walked out onto the street for the first shot which would be a tracking one, following the camera down the street, being careful not to look at it of course, while we chatting animatedly. The camera was set up on a dolly running on rails; there were a couple of fill lights to brighten our faces since the natural light was so gloomy, and a boom mike hovered above us to pick up the sound. The Director of Photography saw me looking at the rails and said. “Don't worry, we're using a mid shot so the ground won't be visible. Just don't trip over them.”

Michael explained how he wanted us to perform the scene, then walking out of shot called 'Action!' and we started walking down the road and chatting. It seemed to me that it went very well, but after Michael had checked the shot on the monitor, he decided that we might look better if we were arranged in a different configuration, and with the camera back in place, we did the scene again, and this time it was shot. Michael decided it looked better, but still wanted a repeat shot, so we went through it yet again. I'm not sure how long this might have gone on for, but the great British weather came to our rescue as it started to rain!

Some assistants quickly appeared with big umbrellas, but mindful of what had happened to my predecessor, I hurried but didn't run back to the hall. The rain meanwhile increased in intensity so the four of us girls, Sarah, Nicole, Amber and I sat down and started to chat while drinking tea and eating sandwiches. I hadn't met any of them before, and it was interesting to hear what they were all doing, mainly some television work and performing in theatres in what is generally called 'the provinces', i.e. not London.

I was a little reluctant to reveal that I was working in Stratford, concerned that it might sound like I was boasting, but I couldn't really avoid mentioning it.

“So you got 'Juliet'!” exclaimed Amber. “A friend of mine auditioned for that. She said the girl who got it was really good.”

I blushed. “Well it's not actually just me, I'm sharing it with Cassie Evans.”

“Cassie got it too? She never mentioned it,” said Nicole, and she sounded a bit put out. “Of course she is Dame Emily's daughter. That can't do any harm.”

“I'm fortunate enough to know Dame Emily quite well, and I can assure you that she doesn't use her influence to help Cassie. In fact she actually tried to discourage her from taking up acting,” I said.

“Sure,” said Nicole. It was obvious she didn't believe me and nothing I said would make her change her mind.

“Good luck with it,” said Sarah. “It's a fabulous part and we'd all love to do it.”

“Thank you,” I replied. I was starting to warm to Sarah.

Just then the Assistant Director came in. “The forecast says the rain isn't going to let up, so that's a wrap for the day,” he said. We all went back to the change rooms and got ready to get back on the bus. So that was one shot down and about another six to go. I wondered if we would get them done the next day or would we have to stay longer in Lacock after all?

On the way back to Bath I sat next to Cassie on the bus.

“So what did you think of your first day on location?” she asked.

“Interesting, but not very productive, thanks to the weather,” I replied. I had decided not to tell her about my conversation with the other girls.

“The forecast is for sunshine tomorrow,” she said.

“Does that mean we'll have to re-shoot the scene we shot today? It's not going to match shots taken in sunshine,” I said.

“Well that's the director's decision. I didn't actually see it being shot but I'm sure he would have been using fill lights,” she said.

“Yes he did,” I replied. “Anyway, I'm glad it's his decision not mine.”

Later, when we were alone, Cassie asked me about Dale.

“He seems a really nice guy, does he have a girlfriend?” she asked.

That put me in a bit of a quandary, which I resolved by saying “He does have a partner.”

“Just my luck,” she laughed. “All the best guys are married or gay.”

Well, I hadn't actually revealed who Dale's partner was, so my conscience was clear.

Back at the hotel I had dinner with Cassie and Dame Emily who also asked me how I found the day. I replied in much the same way as I had to Cassie, and Dame Emily laughed “I'm afraid there can be a lot of days like today. That's why some directors prefer to work on a sound stage.”

As it turned out, the following day was much better. The sun shone, and as I had suspected, we were asked to repeat the scene we had shot with so much difficulty the previous day. However the rest of the shots involving me were accomplished fairly easily, mostly with only two takes. One was shot five times but only because Nicole fluffed her lines three times. In the theatre we would have just kept going, but television is a different matter. After the second time Michael was getting a bit irritated which didn't help as it made Nicole nervous.

I didn't really want it to end as I was enjoying myself so much and with no real need to head back to Stratford yet, I thought I'd ask the Director if there was anything else I could do, like be one of the extras in the background.

“I would appreciate the experience,” I said. “You don't have to pay me extra.”

“My goodness, don't let your agent hear you saying that!” Michael exclaimed in mock horror. “We can always use another extra, but ring your agent and tell him what you're doing.”

I also rang Dale who confirmed that he could come to collect me on Friday evening, so I spent another three days walking around in the background, out of focus or facing away from the camera and wearing a different costume and bonnet each day. I didn't get paid as much of course, but it was all experience and I decided that if the theatre work dried up, I could certainly do worse than take some television or film work if it was available.

At the end of my final day, Michael came up to talk to me. “Many thanks for stepping in at short notice and helping us out, Harriet. I know it wasn't much of a part but it was essential to the story. I'll keep you in mind for future rôles.”

“I enjoyed myself Michael and it's all part of a learning curve for me. I hope we get the chance to work together again.”

“I took Dame Emily's recommendation, and I'm glad I did. I'm sure this won't be the only time your name appears in the credits.”

He kissed me on the cheek and we said goodbye.

I'm sure you're thinking that this was turning into a 'mutual admiration society' but I was building contacts and that's very important for a career actress.

(About six months later I was able to see myself on the television screen. It hadn't turned out too badly at all, and there was my name on the credits, although they did scroll up the screen rather quickly!)

On Friday evening, Dale drove down to pick me up and take me back to Stratford.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked, as I drove the first part of the trip.

“Yes, it was quite different to acting in the theatre and it was great to get the experience. It's something more to put down on my C.V.”

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 21   Romeo and Juliet

The week following my trip to Bath and Lacock, I made three more trips to Warwick to complete recording 'Alice in Wonderland'. It all seemed to go very well. Max was pleased with the quality of the recording and said that the company would be in touch if any re-recording was necessary, but if I heard nothing then that would mean that they were happy. From past experience he expected that the CDs would be on the market in about six months and a complimentary copy would be posted to me.

I also visited the studio where my photographs had been taken and selected a few 'ten by eight inch' enlargements for my portfolio. They showed me which one had been selected for the audio book cover and I was happy with the choice, not that I would have had any say in the matter.

It was now time for the Romeo and Juliet rehearsals to begin. I had made some enquiries about accommodation for Cassie and as a result she had managed to find a flat to share with another girl, a secretary who had nothing to do with the theatre. I told her I was sorry we were unable to share since Dale had taken Mary's room, but she told me not to worry.

“Perhaps it's for the best,” she said. “We'll be seeing a lot of each other at the theatre, and supposing we had a row in the flat about who was taking too much time in the bathroom?”

I laughed and said “Well I do find that Dale spends a lot less time there than Mary used to do, so I think you might be right.”

I had wondered how the rehearsals would go with having two Juliets. On the first day, Jemma, the understudy turned up, She was a pretty dark-haired girl and she seemed rather in awe of Cassie and me. We both greeted her warmly and said how pleased we were to be working with her. “If either of us gets ill, then at least we have a backstop to go on-stage,” said Cassie.

Jemma smiled and said “It seems odd to be saying this but I hope that never happens. I really do want everything to run smoothly. Mr Norad tells me that you both have experience in Shakespeare plays and I'm just a novice, so I hope you'll be patient with me.”

Paul had been right about Jemma's memory; within a week she was 'off book'.

We took it in turns to work with Richard Jenkins and his understudy Donald Barrows, a young Australian actor who had managed to adopt a southern English accent very well. He was taller than Richard and fair-haired, with a handsome boyish face, and he performed very well, better in fact than he'd performed at the audition where I had picked him as the 'best of the rest'. As I had suspected, being nervous had let him down on that occasion.

In addition to his acting abilities, he also played the flute and clarinet and within a few weeks of arriving in Stratford had joined a local jazz quartet which then became a part-time quintet. The only problem of course was that Don had to be at the theatre every evening except Sundays to understudy Richard. Cassie, Dale and I did go along to a local jazz club one Sunday to hear him play and he was very talented. I was sure that he could earn a living as a musician if the acting rôles dried up.

He often brought one of his instruments into the theatre and passed the time practising while sitting in the dressing room. If it was my turn to be the back-up I would often sit in the dressing room listening to him. He tried to teach me how to get a note out of the flute but despite my best efforts, nothing seemed to work.

Unlike my first stage experience in Bridchester, I no longer felt the need to be in costume to act a part although I did tend to wear a long skirt or dress while rehearsing Shakespeare as it made me feel more comfortable. I was pleased to see that Cassie interacted so well with Richard, since she hadn't been able to attend the Romeo auditions. I should have realised that Paul was experienced enough to know that they would work well together.

The rest of the cast performed well. Two of the young men who had auditioned for Romeo had been given the rôles of Mercutio and Tybald, for which they were much better suited. Friar Lawrence was performed by Leon McKeen, an older actor with a long and illustrious career in what turned out to be his final role, as he passed away a few months after the end of the season. Veteran actress Geraldine McKeown returned to Stratford to play the Nurse, giving an impressive performance. I felt privileged to be acting in such company.

The weeks passed quickly and opening night was fast approaching. The question arose, should Cassie or I perform on the first night? We decided (with Paul's permission) that tossing a coin was the fairest way, and I won.

I arrived early at the theatre and, I confess, feeling not a little nervous. Cassie was a great support, sitting in the dressing room as I got ready and being very encouraging. She didn't seem to have an ounce of jealousy in her. As my hair was styled and makeup applied, surprisingly I began to relax. At nineteen I wasn't very old anyway, but makeup had made me look even younger, and once I had put on my costume and checked myself out in the mirror, I felt fine. I think this happens to many actors as they lose themselves in the character they are about to perform.

While Juliet does not appear until Scene Three in Act One, I had developed the habit of being within earshot of the stage to mentally immerse myself into the play, and this would be no exception. When I heard the five minute call for the actors in the opening scenes, I made my way to the stage, being careful to keep out of everyone's way. There is a certain thrill, standing in the wings and hearing the buzz of anticipation from the audience on the other side of the red velvet curtains, and while it wasn't possible to see into the auditorium, the sudden quiet indicated that the house lights had been dimmed.

The curtain rose and Chorus a tall, handsome actor, strode onto the stage. After making a deep bow to the audience he began to recite an introductory sonnet:

'Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
a pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life.
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their parents' rage,
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

Once finished, he gave another deep bow and strode off-stage as the characters Sampson and Gregory entered.

I have often thought that the opening sonnet is a 'spoiler' since it summarises the whole plot in fourteen lines. That was a common occurence in Shakespeare's time, and since almost everyone nowadays knows the story, no real harm is done. Another interesting thing is that Chorus breaks the 'fourth wall' in addressing the audience directly, something we tend to think of as a modern device, but it was often used in Elizabethan theatre.

Soon it was time for Scene Three a room in the Capulet's house and I made my entrance 'How now! Who calls?'

In fact I had little to say in that scene which is dominated by Lady Capulet and my Nurse and I then had to wait until the ball in Scene Five where Romeo meets Juliet for the first time and instantly falls in love with her:

'If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss'.

By the end of the scene, Juliet is as deeply in love with Romeo as he is with her, but she is also aware of the difficulties they will face.

My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.

Act Two starts with Chorus again addressing the audience, reciting another sonnet. Soon afterwards begins the most famous scene in the play, where Romeo climbs over the orchard wall into the Capulets' garden and speaks to Juliet standing on the balcony of her bedroom.

After the magic that Richard and I had captured at his audition, and which in my opinion we had never quite achieved since, I was thrilled to find it once more, perhaps reaching even greater heights now that we were in costume, on a set seemingly lit by moonlight, and performing for an audience. The dialogue in this scene is some of the loveliest that Shakespeare ever wrote:

'But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she...

'See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!'

Then Juliet, unaware of Romeo's presence says:

Oh Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore art though Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name:
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

Later she muses:

'What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd...'

Romeo reveals his presence and the two lovers converse until finally, called by her nurse, Juliet reluctantly bids him farewell:

'Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.'

And when she is gone, Romeo's final words:

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!...

With experience you can tell when an audience is really involved and this one certainly was. In the last scene of Act Three, Juliet plans to visit Friar Lawrence to seek his help. Then came the interval and I went back to the dressing room. Cassie and Jemma were there and congratulated me.

“We stood at the back of the stalls for a while,” said Cassie. “It's really going so well. The chemistry between you and Richard is amazing.”

“It's like I'm seeing the play for the first time,” said Jemma.

I blushed, although of course I was pleased with their assessment, which means all the more when it comes from fellow actors.

I had a sandwich and a small cup of tea with sugar to keep up my energy levels, and soon it was time to go back to the stage for the final two acts.

The story of Romeo and Juliet is so well known that no 'spoiler alert' is necessary. In fact it says much for Shakespeare's genius that audiences still become so involved in the story even though they know the ending.

The final scene takes place in a churchyard at the tomb of the Capulets. The stage was divided in two by the wall of the crypt. Juliet lies on a bier in a deep coma, while the action takes place outside. This required me to take slow and shallow breaths to reduce body movement to a minimum. With practice it can be quite convincing. Romeo arrives at the graveyard and meets Paris, the young nobleman who was to have been Juliet's husband; they fight and Paris is killed. Romeo, unaware that Juliet is not dead enters the tomb and bids her farewell with a kiss before drinking poison and dying.

Friar Lawrence arrives too late, just as Juliet awakens. Hearing voices, he tries to take her from the tomb but she refuses to leave when she sees Romeo lying dead She kisses him, trying to find enough poison on his lips to kill herself, but failing that takes up his dagger and stabs herself.

....Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust, and let me die.

With that I stabbed myself and collapsed across Romeo's body. This scene was difficult to play. Knives with retractable blades are dangerous and no longer used since they can jam and result in a real stabbing, so Cassie, Jemma and I worked with Paul to play the scene is such a way that the audience believes they see a stabbing but in fact they don't. Then I had to lie across Romeo's body, both of us keeping as still as possible until the end of the play.

The play concludes with the Prince, the Capulets and Montague entering the tomb and finding their children dead. Too late, they are reconciled.
The Prince's final words conclude the play:

'A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'

The curtain came down, and we were accorded that rarest of compliments from an audience, several moments of silence, before the applause erupted. On stage, Richard helped me to my feet.

I smiled at him. “Well done! I think we really nailed it tonight,” I said.

He smiled back. “We did indeed.”

We arranged ourselves in the wings ready for the curtain calls. When the curtain rose again, the minor players appeared first, followed by those who played the larger parts.

Leon as Friar Lawrence and Geraldine as the Nurse appeared separately and then Richard and I appeared from the wings on either side of the stage, joined hands and advanced to the apron where we bowed to the audience. The applause which was already loud, increased in intensity. The house lights being slightly raised, we could see that the audience were on their feet, clapping and cheering. Then we joined hands with the other principal players, and there were more bows and more cheering.

The curtain fell and rose again and still the audience cheered and clapped as we bowed again and again. Finally, after the sixth time the curtain fell and stayed down, the house lights came up and the show was over. Paul came on stage and congratulated everyone.

“Well done everyone. That was one of the best performances that I have ever seen,” he said.

We returned to our dressing rooms to change. Cassie was still there and smiled when she saw me. “Harriet, you're a hard act to follow.” she said. “I hope I can do half as well on Monday.”

I blushed. “You'll do as well as me, maybe better,” I said, and I meant it. Suddenly I felt exhausted, and I was glad of Cassie's help as I took off my costume and got dressed. She drove me back to the flat and refused my polite offer of a coffee for which I was grateful. I went straight to bed and was asleep in minutes.

I can't pretend to be impervious to the critics reactions in Monday's newspapers. I will quote just one, Norman Pleasance, for whom the expression 'damning with faint praise' might have been invented.

'STRATFORD'S NEW PRODUCTION OF ROMEO AND JULIET DELIGHTS'

'The new ISC production of one of Shakespeare's most popular plays opened to a packed house and rapturous acclaim at the opening night last Saturday. The large cast performed well as an ensemble and it was a pleasure to see veteran actors Leon McKeen as Friar Lawrence and Geraldine McKeown as the Nurse reprise their rôles from earlier productions.

The play stands or falls by the ability of the two lead actors to convey the adrenaline rush of young love. It is easy to forget that Juliet is not quite fourteen and Romeo is fifteen, although the actors who portray them are never as young as that. Relative newcomers Harriet Stow (who will share the rôle with Cassandra Evans) and Richard Jenkins, acted with exceptional polish and the chemistry between them was palpable. The 'balcony scene' was performed as well as I have ever seen it done by some of the great names. The future of British theatre is in good hands with young actors such as these.

Set and costume design by Eliza Norstradt were of a consistently high standard and contributed much to the production, and the play was directed by Paul Norad, now achieving renown as a gifted Shakespeare specialist. The play is set for a two month season at Stratford and will undoubtedly be a 'must see' for the many visitors to the Bard's birthplace. Lose no time if you want to secure tickets.

The article was accompanied with a picture of the balcony scene which had been taken at a dress rehearsal.

Paul commented that this was the first 'five star' review he had ever seen from Pleasance. “He usually feels that he has failed if he can't find something to criticise, so this review is quite exceptional. I would frame it and stick it on the wall if I were you.”

The other critics were similarly complimentary and in some cases their praise was even more fulsome. As usual, I cut them all out and posted them to Mum. I hope this doesn't sound narcissistic, since it was something she always asked me to do. When they arrived she carefully put them into a photo album along with any pictures of the production that I was able to obtain.

The following morning I rang Mum to tell her how the performance had gone.

“It went very well Mum. Richard was brilliant and he really inspired me. Judging by the applause it's going to be a great season.”

“I do hope we can come down to see it,” she replied. “I know you are sharing the role with Cassie Evans and while I'm sure she will be very good, we would really love to see you of course. Do you have a rota of performances?”

“Well I played at the opening night and so Cassie should play Monday evening. Wednesdays and Saturdays will both have a matinée as well as the evening performance and we will take it in turns to do each show. When we're not performing then we will act as each other's back-up.”

“Well I think we had better come for a Wednesday matinée if you can tell us which one you are doing.”

“Ok Mum, I'll work it out and let you know when I can get tickets.”

It was another three weeks before I was able to get tickets for a Wednesday matinée when I was performing, and Mum and Emma came down with baby Elizabeth. Cassie kindly offered to look after Elizabeth and give her a bottle if needed. Emma came to the dressing room at interval to check on her, but everything was going fine.

“I'm so looking forward to the second half of the play, Harriet,” she said. “Every time I see you, your acting has gone up another notch. I've never seen the 'balcony scene' done so well. I'm sure everyone watching thinks that you and young Richard are really in love.”

I laughed. “Well you know that's not true Emma, I love Reggie and always will.”

Since this chapter has rather concentrated on my acting, I must record the response to Cassie's performances. The local newspaper was published weekly and so their theatre critic had the opportunity to see Cassie perform as Juliet too. He published a glowing report.

“INSPIRATIONAL ROMEO AND JULIET FROM THE ISC”

A new season of 'Romeo and Juliet' from ISC is thrilling audiences including many visitors to Stratford. The lead rôles are performed by relative newcomers, Richard Jenkins as Romeo, and in an unusual decision Cassandra Evans and Harriet Stow are sharing the role of Juliet. For those who are not aware, Cassandra Evans is the daughter of Dame Emily Good who has often graced the stage at Stratford, and Cassandra has obviously inherited her acting genes.

Having had the privilege of seeing both actresses perform, I can report that while each brought her individual touch to the role, audiences will be more than satisfied whichever actress they see.

The whole company performed at a very high standard, and it will be a delight for older audience members to see veterans Leon McKeen perform as Friar Lawrence, and Geraldine McKeown as Juliet's nurse. These actors may be in the twilight of their careers, but their standard of acting is as good as ever.

This is a performance that stays in the memory, and one I can unreservedly recommend.'

This was another review which I duly cut out and posted to Mum. Things could hardly be going better. Yes, I had to defer my surgery, but that should take place early the following year, and meanwhile I was performing in a lead role at Stratford. Life was good.

It was on the Friday afternoon of the fifth week of the season that I had a phone call from Reggie.

“Hello Harriet,” he said, and he sounded unusually subdued.

“Hi darling, how are things going at York?”

“Fine, thank you. Harriet, I need to talk to you,”

“Well you are talking to me now,” I replied with a laugh.

“No, I mean talk to you 'face to face',” he replied. Suddenly I felt that something was wrong.

“What is it Reggie? Is something the matter?”

“Can I come down and see you on Sunday?” he asked. He was not replying to my question and that worried me.

“Of course you can. I can even drive up there if you like?”

“No, I'll take the early train down,” he replied. “I'll see you then.”

“I love you Reggie,” I said. I didn't mean to say it, but somehow it came out as though it was a defence against whatever was troubling him.

“I love you too Harriet. I'll see you Sunday,” he said and hung up the phone.

Something was definitely wrong, I could sense it. Was he ill, or did he want to cool things off so that he could take out other women? After all, because of the present circumstances, we couldn't see each other very often, but how would I feel about that? I went through a dozen scenarios in my mind, but in the end I needn't have bothered, because the truth when I heard it was worse than I could have imagined in my darkest nightmare.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 22   The worst of times.

'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...' 'A Tale of Two Cities', Charles Dickens.

I only had to perform in the Saturday matinée after speaking to Reggie. This unfortunately gave me plenty of time to think but my thoughts just went around and around in circles. Finally it was Sunday morning and my wait was nearly over. I didn't know what train Reggie was coming on so although I was already up at six o'clock I decided to stay at the flat rather than go to the railway station.

The previous evening I had mentioned to Dale that Reggie was coming to talk to me and while I didn't know what it was about it sounded serious.

“In that case I'll go out for the day and give you some privacy,” he said. He was as good as his word, getting up soon after six and driving off in his car after an early breakfast. I tried to eat a piece of toast but gave up after a few bites and settled for a cup of coffee.

Reggie knocked on the door at about eight o'clock. My heart was pounding as I opened it. I was shocked; he looked gray and drawn and seemed to have aged ten years in appearance. I invited him in and asked him to sit in the lounge while I made some tea. I knew I was putting off the moment when I would learn what had happened, but there is something calming about holding a cup of tea, and I felt sure I was going to need it.

I handed Reggie his tea and sat down on the armchair facing him, cradling my cup in my hands. I would normally have sat on the sofa with him, but somehow it seemed better not to on this occasion, I needed to sit facing him.

“Reggie, all I ask is that you give it to me straight. Don't leave anything out please and whatever you do, just tell me the truth.”

Reggie took a deep breath. “Alright, here goes. Do you remember when you came to York and a young woman passed us as we were leaving the college? You asked what her name was and I said I thought it was Sophie. That was the first time I've ever lied to you, because I knew very well what her name was.”

“I know,” I said.

“You did?” He seemed surprised.

“Reggie, when a man says he thinks he knows a woman's name, he is usually not telling the truth.”

Reggie flushed. “I've been such a fool,” he said. “I met Sophie with the other new students only a few days after arriving at York and it was pretty obvious that she was making a play for me. I made it as clear as I could that I wasn't interested, and I was glad when she saw us together because I thought that would make it clear to her that I already had a girlfriend. Well, I was wrong.

“We have quite a lot of social evenings at the college Dining Hall, and on this particular occasion I was sitting at a table with a few of the other students when Sophie came up and sat beside me and starting chatting. I was looking for a means of escape when my friend Don came over and asked me to meet the coach of the University football team. It seemed they were interested in me trying out for them, so it was a good excuse to get away from her. However, when I had to return to the table because I had left a book behind, Sophie was still there. She told me she had saved my seat and had bought me a drink. Fool that I was I drank it. The next thing I knew I woke up in bed. Sophie was beside me and, well we were both naked.”

You've heard the expression 'my blood ran cold', that's how I felt at that moment.

“She started telling me what a great lover I was, but I swear to you Harriet that I'm sure nothing happened between us. She must have spiked that drink because I'm sure I was out cold all night until I woke up. I made an excuse that I had to see the football coach, leapt out of bed, grabbed my clothes and got dressed. When I got outside I realised we had been in a hotel, but I've no idea how we got there. I flagged down a taxi and went straight back to the college. I thought that was the end of it but I was wrong, so wrong. That was about six weeks ago, and then on Wednesday I had a call from Sophie to tell me that she was pregnant and I was the father.”

I had been holding my cup of tea up until now, somehow the warmth of it was a comfort, but now I dropped it. It bounced on the wooden floor and tea went everywhere. My hands were shaking. Reggie jumped up.

“I'll get a cloth,” he said. I just sat there stunned. I couldn't say a thing.

He mopped up the tea and picked up the cup which somehow hadn't broken.

“Shall I make some more tea for you?” he asked.

“What? Oh no, it's fine. Just tell me what happened next,” I replied. 'Surely this is a nightmare and soon I'll wake up,' I thought.

“Well I said to her, 'It's not mine', and she said, 'Are you calling me a liar?' “

“'But I don't remember us having sex', I said to her. 'Well I do,' she said, 'You were.....' “ Reggie paused, embarrassed.

“Amazing?” I suggested.

Reggie blushed scarlet. “Something like that. Then she said 'So when are we going to get married?' ”

I groaned. Every moment I thought things couldn't get worse, they did.

“Surely you didn't agree to that? The baby, if it actually exists, isn't yours anyway, so why not wait until it is born and demand a DNA test?”

Reggie didn't answer. He just looked sick.

“There's more isn't there,” I said.

“Yes, on Thursday her father paid me a visit. He's Sid Vertue, have you heard of him?”

“The name is vaguely familiar but I'm not sure, who is he?”

“He runs some so-called 'gentlemen's clubs' in the Blackpool area. They're really strip joints, pole dancing and that sort of thing.”

“Classy,” I said. “So what did he want?”

“He said he understood I had put his daughter 'in the family way' as he phrased it and what did I intend to do about it?”

“'That's what she says,' I replied and he wasn't happy with that.

“'I hope you're not calling my daughter a liar,' he said, well it was more like a snarl really.

“'I'm just not aware of doing anything to make her think that I'm responsible,' I said.

“'You're not implying she sleeps around?' he said. He was getting really angry. 'She has photos of the two of you together. I'd hate to see those get to your Head of College. I understand she frowns on that sort of thing.'

“Then I made a mistake,” said Reggie. “I said 'but it didn't even happen at the college'.

“'So you admit you went to bed with her,' he said.

“What could I say? He outsmarted me. Then he changed tack and made an implied threat.”

“I hope you told him you didn't respond to threats,” I said.

Reggie hesitated. “It wasn't about me, it was about you,” he said in a low voice. “He said he understood I was going out with a young actress at Stratford who was very pretty and successful by all accounts. He went on about how important it was for a woman actress to be good looking and how it would affect your career if you had an accident and lost those good looks. That's all he said. He's very smart. It wasn't a threat in so many words but there was no doubt what he was saying.”

“I can't believe this,” I said in a whisper. I thought I was beyond getting shocked, but every revelation was worse than the one before. “This is twenty-first century Britain, not nineteen twenties Chicago. How does he think he'd ever get away with it?”

“Oh he wouldn't be directly involved, he's too smart for that. He's got a bunch of goons who do his dirty work for him. I did a search for him on-line and found a link. He provided an alibi for one of his associates in a nasty assault case. It seems this low-life took a shine to a young woman who rejected his advances. One night she had her face slashed by a mugger. It left an ugly scar, but no-one was ever charged, and there was no direct connection to Sid nor his friend.”

Tears were streaming down my cheeks. Two days ago I was on top of the world, now it had fallen to pieces around me. “Oh Reggie, what are we going to do?” I wailed.

“Believe me I've tried to think of a way out but in the end there's only one thing I can do,” Reggie said. “Marry Sophie.”

“No!” I screamed, and running across the room I threw myself into his arms and started to sob. He held me for a long time as my body shook. “No, no,” I moaned. “You can't. I won't let you.”

“I love you Harriet,” he said quietly. “I don't love Sophie, but I can't risk them doing something like that to you. I'm so, so sorry.”

I looked up through my tears. “It's not your fault Reggie, none of it is. You made one mistake, that's all. You trusted her because that's the sort of person you are.”

I was holding onto Reggie as though he was a lifebelt in a stormy sea. I certainly felt that I was in imminent danger of drowning.

After a while I somehow pulled myself together and took a deep breath. “There must be a way out of this, there has to be.”

Reggie looked grim. “I wish there was, but if there is I can't think of it.” He paused. “Perhaps I'd better go. I'm sorry I ruined your day, but now you know why I couldn't tell you what's happened, over the phone.”

I clung onto him. “Please don't go Reggie. I have a horrible feeling that this might be the last time we are alone together.”

So Reggie stayed. Yes, we ended up in bed together, but we didn't make love. We just clung to each other and somehow I managed not to cry again, although every time I thought that I might never touch his body again, the tears started to well up.

About five o'clock, we got up and Reggie made us an omelette, his specialty. I ate it slowly, thinking to myself 'This is the last time I'll do this'. Then we washed up together and I thought, 'and this is the last time too'.

“Shall I drive you to the station?” I asked.

“I think it's better if I walk,” Reggie said. “I'll be in touch, I promise, but I won't do anything to compromise your safety; that's the most important thing to me. I love you Harriet, I always will, no matter what happens. Remember that.”

“I love you too Reggie, and I will forever.”

I kept it together as through welling tears I watched him walk down the street and turn the corner. Then I walked back inside the flat and closed the door. It seemed so empty. I ran into the bedroom, flung myself on the bed and sobbed.

Exhausted, I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I was woken up when Dale came in at about seven o'clock. I sat up and looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy from crying, but there wasn't much I could do about it. I cleaned myself up as much as I could and walked out into the kitchen where Dale was making himself some tea. He took one look at me and was shocked.

“Harriet! What on earth has happened?”

“It's Reggie,” I said. He told me to sit down while he made some tea, and then he gently held my hand as I told him all that Reggie had told me.

“I can't believe this,” he said. “It's not right, it's not fair. Can't anything be done to stop it?”

“Believe me, I wish there was. I'm racking my brains to think of something.”

“Can't you go to the police?”

“We discussed that, but what can they do? Sid didn't even make a direct threat, he's too smart for that.”

“Oh yes, I've heard of Sid Vertue. I was with some friends at Blackpool once and they took me to one of his clubs. They didn't know that I am gay, and I suppose they thought I'd enjoy it. It was awful, overpriced drinks and those women gyrating around poles and wearing nothing but a smile, and even that looked false. I told my friends I had a splitting headache, which wasn't far off the truth, and got out of there as quickly as I could. Vertue! No-one's ever had a more inappropriate name. He skates on thin ice but he's never been charged with anything, I don't know why.”

If I'd had any doubts about whether Sid Vertue was as bad as Reggie said, those doubts didn't exist any longer. This was a man who got what he wanted and didn't let anything stand in his way.

“Thanks for listening, Dale,” I said. “I think I'll go to bed, I feel as exhausted as if I'd run a marathon, and I have to perform tomorrow night; the show must go on, you know?”

“Couldn't Cassie perform for you?” said Dale.

“I'm sure she would if I asked her, but it's not fair to her, and anyway, it might help me take my mind off what's happened,” I said.

I had little rest that night. My mind just kept going over and over what Reggie had told me. I even considered appealing to Sophie's better nature before realising that would be counter-productive. She'd probably laugh at me. Never for a moment did I think of blaming Reggie. He had been caught in a classic honey trap. It must have been dawn when I finally fell asleep and even then my sleep was disturbed by horrible dreams.

When I arrived at the theatre that evening Cassie was already there. I was a bit late which was unusual for me, and Cassie looked anxiously at me.

“Are you alright Harriet?” she asked.

“Not really,” I replied. “But I'm alright to perform, in fact I want to. If you've got time after the show I'll tell you about it.”

She was kind enough not to press me further while I got changed and had my hair and makeup done. I think she must have warned the other staff because no-one said anything. I was just glad to lose myself in Juliet, in fact the tragic events of the play seemed to match my mood.

After the performance I gave her an abbreviated version of what had happened. She looked shocked. “I can hardly believe it,” she said.

“I don't want to believe it,” I responded, “but I'm afraid it's all true.”

“You poor dear,” she said and hugged me.

I will never forget the support I received from Dale and Cassie over the following few days. It would have been so easy to curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep every day but I didn't. I am reminded of that quote from Friedrich Nietzsche 'That which does not kill us makes us stronger'. I was determined to get through this crisis whichever way I could. I had wonderful support from my 'family' at the theatre, for that's how I saw the cast and crew. No-one asked me, but I think they knew that something serious had happened in my life.

Two weeks passed by, and no word came from Reggie. Perhaps he was afraid that if he contacted me, word would somehow get back to Sophie or Sid and put me in danger.

Meanwhile I threw myself into the rôle of Juliet with even more vigour. It was wonderful to become another person for a few hours and put my own troubles at the back of my mind. Perhaps it made me understand the character of Juliet even better.

The closest I came to falling apart was on the day that a large envelope arrived in the post. My hands were literally shaking as I eased the heavy card with ornate lettering out of the envelope. It read as follows:

Up until that moment I had almost managed to convince myself that it really wouldn't happen, but here it was in black and white. I wondered what Reggie's parents thought about it? I know they had never really reconciled themselves to me, but surely the daughter of a cheap spiv wasn't exactly what they had in mind for their son either.

Holding the invitation as if it was contaminated, I dropped it in the bin. Wasn't it enough for Sophie that she had stuck a knife in me, did she have to twist it as well?

When Dale came home from work I told him about it.

“So what will you do about it?” he asked.

“I threw it in the bin,” I replied.

He paused and then said “I wonder if that's a good idea, it's like a win for her.”

“A win?”

“I think so,” he said. “She probably thought you'd react in exactly the way you have. If you accept the invitation, then you'll put her on the back foot.”

“But I couldn't go on my own, that would be too humiliating,” I replied.

“Who says you have to? I could be your boyfriend for the day. I'm sure Frank won't mind if I explain the situation to him. In fact if you remember, you arranged theatre tickets for us, so he's coming up again this weekend. We could both talk to him about it.”

I had completely forgotten about the tickets, which isn't surprising really. I thought to myself that I must get all the cast to sign a programme for Frank too. Life goes on.

“Alright, I'll think about it,” I said, and fished the invitation out of the bin. Perhaps Dale was right, I shouldn't be predictable in my response.

The more I thought about it over the next couple of days, the more I decided that Dale was right. After all, I was a damn good actress, even if I said so myself. If I turned up at the wedding, seemingly with a new boyfriend and without a care in the world, I might make Sophie think that I had no further interest in Reggie and wouldn't be any trouble to her. If she was going to fight dirty, so would I. After all Reggie was worth fighting for, and just because I lost one battle, didn't mean I was going to lose the war.

Now, what should I wear? I thought of Princess Diana and the so-called 'revenge dress' she wore. Well, I wouldn't be attempting anything like that, but on the other hand this might be just the occasion to appear as the glamorous actress with the handsome new boyfriend with whom she was madly in love.

There was a slight problem, I had to get word to Reggie and I was worried about phoning him in case Sophie was there when I did so. The more I thought about it, the more I worried that it might turn out like a modern version of that part of Romeo and Juliet where Romeo doesn't get the message that Juliet isn't really dead. I certainly didn't want my own ploy to end in disaster with Reggie thinking I really had dumped him, unlikely though it was since he knew Dale was gay.

Thank goodness a couple of days after I received the wedding invitation, Reggie rang me. It was so good to hear his voice again.

“Harriet? It's Reggie, I'm sorry I haven't rung you before.”

“Oh Reggie, I wanted to ring you so much, but I was afraid I might pick the wrong time,” I said, feeling the tears start to well up again.

“I'm guessing you've got the wedding invitation now? I wanted to ring you about that. I don't expect you to come of course,” he said, and his voice sounded so flat and miserable.

“That's part of the reason why I wanted to talk to you, Reggie. I've talked it over with Dale and I think I should come, just because Sophie and her parents won't expect it. Dale has offered to be my 'boyfriend' for the day. What I'm proposing to do is put them off the scent by making out that Dale and I are madly in love, but I had to tell you first, so you know it's all an act. Fortunately they don't know that Dale is gay.”

He laughed briefly and I think it was the first time in a long while. “That sounds like a plan,” he said.

“I'm not giving up on you Reggie. Do you remember when I recited that poem 'How do I love thee?' to you? Well that's how much I love you, and I always will. What you are doing for me right now is more than anyone should have to do for another person. 'Greater love hath no man than he lay down his life for his friend'. In many ways that's what you're doing and it only makes me love you more.”

“Oh Harriet,” whispered Reggie, and I could here the heartbreak in his voice.

“We'll be together one day Reggie, I know it.” I paused , wondering if I should say what was on my mind. “Only one thing bothers me, you might actually have children with Sophie. That will make it difficult for you to ever get away from her.”

He laughed again, but it was a laugh without mirth. “That's not going to happen Harriet.”

“You can't be sure,” I replied.

“Yes I can, I've had a vasectomy,” he responded. “It will be completely healed before the wedding day, she'll never know.”

I confess I gasped. This was a side of Reggie I hadn't seen before. Of course it didn't matter to us, since I could never have children, but to most men their fertility is important, and it had even crossed my mind that we might have had a child by Reggie and a surrogate. Reggie had made yet another sacrifice for me. I didn't know what to say, so I changed the subject.

“Reggie, I wish I could send you emails but I can't in case Sophie sees them.”

“Well actually you can,” he replied. “There's something called web-based emails. A few years back an American guy developed one called 'Hotmail'. The messages don't download onto computers, you access them on the internet. It's free to use too. I've already set up an account, can you write down my user name please?”

He told me what it was and then how to set up my own account and a user name. I promised I would send him a short message as soon as I had it set up, and he would reply.

I suddenly felt a touch of conscience. “Reggie,” I said. “What is this doing to us? Are we turning into devious people?”

“No Harriet, we're fighting back,” he said.”I'm going to marry you one day and nothing is going to get in the way of that.” There was something in the tone of his voice that scared me. I think he realised that from my silence, because he laughed and said, “Don't worry, I'm not going to murder Sophie.”

I laughed now and tried to make light of it by saying “Well you had me worried, but no, I never really thought that for a moment.”

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 23   Wedding preparations

There was one major problem with me attending the wedding of Reggie and Sophie; it was on a Saturday and I was performing in Romeo and Juliet. On that particular day I was scheduled to perform in the matinée. I wondered if I could still do that and then go to Blackpool, but soon realised that I wouldn't have enough time. I wondered if Cassie would mind doing both performances and how would Paul feel about Jemma being the only understudy? Perhaps he would give her the chance to do the matinée, but that wasn't for me to suggest. I decided I must speak to him at the first opportunity, which came just before the next day's rehearsal.

He was obviously surprised that anyone would wish to attend their ex-boyfriend's wedding.

“Well I'm sure you have a good reason for going and you don't need to tell me what it is,” Paul said. “It's alright with me but we have to run it past the Artistic Director Rosa, and even Malcolm if she thinks he needs to be involved.”

Later he told me that we would both be seeing Rosa in her office during a break in the rehearsal. When we entered her office I was pleased to see that she hadn't asked Malcolm the CEO to be involved too.

“So what's the problem Harriet?” she asked.

“It's not really a problem. A long-time friend of mine, Reggie, is getting married on Saturday the tenth of November and he's invited me to the wedding. I feel I should be there to support him as there won't be many guests from his side. I'm due to perform in the matinée but I really wouldn't have time to do that as the wedding is in Blackpool, nearly three hours drive away, and it takes place at 2pm. I'm wondering if you'd mind if I take the day off and leave Jemma to be the understudy? I haven't asked Cassie yet how she feels about doing both performances as I thought I should speak to you first.”

“What do you think, Paul?” Rosa asked.

“I've been thinking about it; Jemma knows the part well enough, and she's a good little actress. I could talk to Cassie about doing both performances, but perhaps this is an opportunity for Jemma to perform in the matinée and then Cassie will be perform in the evening as scheduled,” he replied.

“Very well, if you're happy with that,” said Rosa, and then she turned to me. “You've gone out of your way to accommodate us in the past, Harriet, so I see no problem in releasing you on this one occasion.”

“Thank you, Miss Fernandez,” I replied. “It really is a 'one-off'.”

Walking back to the auditorium, Paul looked at me and said “There's more to this than you said in Rosa's office isn't there?”

I flushed. I had to make a decision whether to trust him or not, and going with 'women's intuition' I decided I could.

“There is,” I said cautiously, “but it's highly confidential.”

“It doesn't go any further,” he replied.

'Well Reggie's father-in-law to be is Sid Vertue, have you heard of him?”

Paul drew in a breath. “I have indeed. How did Reggie get mixed up with him?”

I gave him a brief synopsis of the whole horrible affair, including Sid's implied threat to me. “So you see, if I turn up with a new boyfriend, it will not only protect me, but Reggie too since Sophie and Sid will think that our relationship has come to an end. I hope you don't think I'm being a real coward doing this?”

“If what I've heard about Sid Vertue is correct, I wouldn't blame anyone for doing everything they can to keep him at arms' length,” he replied. ”Good luck with it all. Let me know how it goes, alright?”

I thanked him as we walked up the steps onto the stage.

On Friday evening, Dale's boyfriend Frank came up by train from London. I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“It's so good to see you Frank, I missed you last time because I was away.”

“It's good to see you too Harriet. Dale's filled me in a bit on what's been happening and I'm so sorry to hear about it.”

I managed a smile. “Well I'm not giving in, in fact I'm fighting back, and Phase One starts when I attend Reggie and Sophie's wedding. I hope you agreed to me borrowing Dale as a temporary boyfriend?”

Frank laughed. “I'm sure you'll hand him back in one piece.”

“I promise I will, but there's one thing I have to tell you. We'll have to stay over in Blackpool and we'll need to share a room just in case Sid checks up on us. It would look really strange if new lovers were in separate rooms.”

“Of course I understand,” said Frank. “It will all be acting.”

“Actually, there's something you might help me with, Frank. I need a new dress for the wedding, something glamorous. I was wondering if you'd like to come shopping with me tomorrow and give me some advice? I'm really not a 'fashionista'.”

“I'll be happy to Harriet; if Dale wants to come along we can park him in a coffee shop while we hit the boutiques. By the way, I haven't had a chance to congratulate you on getting the part of 'Juliet'. What a fabulous rôle it is, I'm really looking forward to seeing you perform it tomorrow night.”

“I hope you enjoy it Frank. I've got all the cast to sign a programme for you.”

“Oh you are the sweetest girl!” he said, and accompanied it with another kiss on the cheek.

“I have to look after my fans,” I replied.

The next morning we went into Stratford and Dale went for a cup of coffee while Frank and I hit the shops. I think he realised it might be a 'more than one coffee' wait, but he was very good about it.

“I want to be a glamorous for once,” I said to Frank. “Since it's 'black tie' I think a floor-length gown with a fitted bodice is called for, and for an actress it should look dramatic of course.”

“That sounds perfect,” said Frank. “Matching shoes of course?”

“Of course, at least five inch heels, and maybe with a strap?”

Frank was a great help. I couldn't help thinking that he would be wasted as an accountant and should really be a dress designer, so I told him so.

He blushed slightly, “Do you really think so?” he asked.

“Yes I do,” I replied.

“Well I'll let you into a secret, I've been playing around with designs for quite a while. Would you like to see my portfolio sometime?”

“I certainly would. That makes me even surer you'll be a great help in deciding what I should buy for this wedding.”

We went to three boutiques that specialised in gowns suitable for black tie events and weddings. It took a while because we weren't in a hurry, we were enjoying ourselves too much. Finally we decided on a gorgeous black sequin dress with a sweetheart neckline and a floor-sweeping train. When I came out of the change room I felt so special wearing it and Frank just said “Oh yes! That's the one!”

“Not too much 'revenge dress'?” I asked and Frank laughed, instantly recognising the reference.

“Well it would be if Reggie had really dumped you, and that's what makes it so deliciously appropriate. That's what people will think and only a few of us will know that they're wrong!”

I produced my card and paid the bill – over three hundred pounds. Now I know that will not seem a lot to many people, but for a young actress it was the most I had ever spent on a single item of clothing.

I suddenly realised that two hours had passed and I felt very guilty at leaving Dale for so long when I told him we'd only be a hour or so. Fortunately he was very understanding. When we arrived back to the café he was onto his third cup of coffee and had read the car magazine he had bought from cover to cover.

“I'm so sorry Dale,” I said. “Lunch is on me, and then I really need to buy a pair of shoes to match my dress. I hope you don't mind.”

“So long as you had a good time, both of you,” he said.

“We did,” we said in unison.

We enjoyed lunch at the cafe, and Dale came along too as we went to a shoe shop, which fortunately had the perfect pair of black six inch heels. They were really pretty with a strap across the instep, and it only took thirty minutes to buy them!

Paul Norad had given me special permission to be late at the theatre, since I assured him that I was only ten minutes away at most, and there was no suggestion that Cassie wouldn't be able to perform the matinée. Nevertheless I felt I should be there, so I dropped Dale and Frank off at the flat. Dale took me aside for a moment before he went inside and said. “Would you mind very much if Frances comes to the theatre tonight?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “I've been looking forward to meeting her.”

“She wants that too, but she wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. I should tell you that Frances is totally convincing, well in my eyes anyway.”

“Well I'd be the last person to object, and I'm sure you are right about how she looks. I hope you come around to my dressing room after the performance. We can go out for supper if you like.”

Dale smiled. “I'm sure Frances would love going out to supper with the star of the show,” he said.

I laughed. “If you're trying to embarrass me, you're succeeding,” I replied.

I arrived at the theatre ten minutes before the matinée started. Cassie asked me how my search for the perfect dress and shoes had gone, and I was able to assure her that it had been very successful.

“I think Dale's partner will be coming to the performance as Frances tonight, that's if he doesn't chicken out at the last minute.”

Cassie laughed. “Is he, or should I say 'she' very convincing?”

“I've never actually seen her,” I replied. “But my guess is that she will be very convincing indeed.”

After the matinée, and before we went back to the dressing room, Cassie caught up with me and told me that Paul had had a word with her about the Saturday of Reggie and Sophie's wedding. He was going to give Jemma some extra rehearsal time and if he thought she was ready, then he would speak to her about performing in the matinée on that day.

“She's going to be very excited, and I'm really glad for her. She's a good actress and she deserves a chance since she's worked so hard,” said Cassie, and I totally agreed with her.

The evening performance went well as usual, and afterwards I returned to the dressing room to change. I had told Cassie about Frances and soon after I was ready there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I called, and Dale came in with Frances. I have previously noted that I expected Frank to become a very pretty girl with the right dress, makeup and wig, but I was not prepared for the person who followed Dale into the room.

Frances did not look in the slightest bit like a guy in a dress, Frances looked and acted like a girl. It suddenly occurred to me to wonder how Dale might feel about that, but there was nothing I could say of course.

“Hello Frances, come in,” I said. “What a pretty dress.”

Frances actually blushed. “Thank you,” she said. (I can hardly use a male pronoun when I was confronted by such a feminine-looking person).

I introduced Frances to Cassie, and then reached into a drawer.

“Here's the autographed programme I promised you,” I said.

“Oh thank you so much,” she said as she took it and leaning forward gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“It's a pleasure,” I replied. “Well I'm ready and I'm starving. Shall we go to supper?”

I had invited Cassie to come along too, but she gracefully declined, saying that she had already agreed to meet a friend. I wondered about that, not having seen any boys around, but thought maybe she was just being tactful and leaving me to meet up with my friends.

We went around to 'The Oppo' where I had reserved a table and was now known by name, a fact which seemed to impress Frances. We had a very pleasant supper and then headed back to the flat. I was feeling tired as I always do after an intense performance, so I was not long out of bed, and asleep in minutes.

The next morning at breakfast, Frank was back. I decided I just had to get used to seeing either Frank or Frances depending on how the mood took him or her. I thought that dressing as a girl was more of a hobby for Frank than a serious thing, but I have to say that he not only looked like a girl but really acted as one when he was dressed. I didn't get the impression that he was thinking of transitioning, and it would be up to him to bring up the subject if that's what he wanted.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 24   'That which does not kill us...'

The season continued well with packed houses. As November 10th approached, Paul told Jemma that she was to play the matinée, and as I predicted, she was over the moon.

“This is something I dreamed about, but I never thought it would happen, not with you and Cassie sharing the rôle,” she said.

“Well Paul wouldn't have agreed to it if he didn't think you were ready. He's probably thinking that it will also ensure Cassie and I don't let our standards slip,” I laughed. “I'm joking, but I've been an understudy myself so I know what it's like. You've worked really hard and you deserve this opportunity.”

“I'm learning so much from watching you two perform. This is just an amazing experience,” said Jemma.

“Well you enjoy your performance,” I said. “I enjoy every one, and I think that's the secret of acting well.”

The morning of 10th November arrived, crisp and clear. I awoke and thought to myself. 'This is it. This is the day of Reggie's wedding.'

Quite frankly, I would rather have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but this was no time to be a wimp. I remembered that quote from Friedrich Nietzsche 'That which does not kill us makes us stronger.'

'I'm going to get through this and come out stronger at the other end.' I said to myself.

Both Dale and I were up early. We were going to drive up to Blackpool in Dale's car, a Jaguar Mark 2 with the 3.4 litre engine. Built in the nineteen sixties, it was about fifty years old, but in beautiful condition and with those classic lines it certainly didn't look its age. I knew Dale spent many hours tinkering with it in the garage at the driving school, and that it was in excellent condition mechanically as well as having an immaculate body. I suspected that Dale would like to have the even more admired Jaguar 'E' type, but I don't think his funds stretched that far.

I had decided that my black sequin dress was a bit too 'evening wear' for an afternoon church wedding, so I had selected a dark blue satin tea-length dress for the ceremony and would return to the hotel and change for the evening. Both dresses were hung in their covers beside the back seat. There was plenty of room in the boot for our suitcases, and also the wedding present. I had bought a very nice Willow Pattern dinner set which happened to be on special in a Stratford shop, but no-one had to know that. It was still quite expensive. I wondered if Sophie would ensure that it never saw the light of day after being unpacked, but if it was brought out on special occasions, I hoped that Reggie would remember who gave it to them.

We set off about eight o'clock. Even with a coffee break, we would still get to Blackpool by eleven-thirty. Dale pulled over and let me have a drive for an hour in the middle of the trip. I have to say that the power under my right foot was extraordinary, and made my dear little 'Bluebird' seem like a golf buggy in comparison. More than once I had to ease off as the speed began to creep up over the limit. Getting a speeding fine was the last thing I wanted.

We found the hotel quite easily. I had borrowed a plain gold ring from the props department, and so we registered as Mr and Mrs Swenson. I know that no-one cares nowadays, but I preferred not to use my own name anyway, even if it wasn't too well known yet. Being famous has its pros and cons.

The room was bright and sunny with a queen size bed and ensuite. After leaving our suitcases, we went down to the restaurant for a light lunch and then returned to the room to get ready. We had decided that Dale would have his shower first and get dressed while I took over the bathroom. When he was dressed, he would wait for me down in the lobby. Naturally enough it was going to take me more time to get ready, although I didn't want to keep him waiting too long.

After I had completed my shower and dried myself, I had the bedroom to myself and dressed in a set of my favourite French lingerie and drew on some sheer stockings and attached them to my suspender belt. Then I set about doing my hair and makeup before putting on my dress and heels. I checked myself in the mirror, decided I was happy with how I looked, picked up my clutch bag and took the lift down to the lobby. The whole process had taken forty-five minutes. I hoped Dale didn't think that was a very long time since I thought I'd been a real greyhound.

Dale stood up when he saw me. He seemed impressed as he walked up to greet me and kissed me on the cheek. I was surprised. That hadn't been in the script.

“Harriet, you look amazing,” he said.

“Thank you Dale. I was thinking how handsome you look,” I replied. He did look handsome in his dinner suit and black tie, and I was sure he would make quite an impression.

Dale drove us to the church and managed to park about five minutes' walk away. I took his arm as we walked up the path. Now we were 'on stage'. To our mutual surprise I saw Reggie's Aunt Jane from Swansea standing there on her own in a very nice blue silk dress with a matching hat.

“Harriet! I would say it's nice to see you, but this has all been something of a surprise,” she said.

“It surprised me too, Aunt Jane,” I replied. Seeing her look at Dale, I introduced them. “Dale, this is Reggie's aunt, Mrs Thomas from Swansea. Dale is a friend who has agreed to be my partner today.”

Aunt Jane held out her hand. “It's nice to meet you Dale.”

I glanced at my watch. “Could I have a quick word in private Aunt Jane? Would you mind Dale?”

We moved away from the other guests and Jane said “I don't understand, Harriet. What happened? You and Reggie seemed so happy together.”

“Sophie happened.” I said grimly.

“But why the wedding?” she said looking puzzled. “I really thought you two were in love.”

“We were, in fact we are. I'm sorry if none of this makes sense, but it's a complicated story and for now this is how it has to be. Just one thing though, I don't want you to hate me, so don't believe all you see today. Dale is a friend, nothing more, and I'm an actress. Maybe Reggie can tell you more, but only if you can speak to him on his own. For goodness sake don't do it when anyone else is around.”

If anything Aunt Jane looked more confused. “Alright Harriet, I believe you but I can't say I'm happy about it.”

“Neither am I, but trust me, what Reggie is doing is an incredible thing, 'greater love' and all that.”

Just then an usher appeared through the church door and asked all the guests to take their seats, so we walked into the church. There was not a large congregation, and as I had suspected the groom's side was much smaller than the bride's. An usher took us up to the second row of pews and directed us to the right-hand side. I would have preferred to sit further back but we could hardly move without making a fuss, so we went along with it. We were right behind Reggie's parents, Mr and Mrs Staunton. She half turned as we took our places, saw me and was obviously surprised.

“Harriet!” she said in a half whisper. “I didn't....” and she stopped embarrassed.

“I'm one of Reggie's oldest friends, so I'm here to support him,” I said, also in a half whisper. At that moment I really think she wished that I was the bride.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, and I think that was almost like an apology.

A few more people moved into the pews behind us, but I didn't turn around. Over the aisle the bride's family and friends were filling up far more of the pews. They chatted rather loudly amongst themselves, obviously unused to being inside a church.

Seated on the front row pew was Sophie's mother. She didn't seem the sort of woman to be married to someone of Sid's reputation, being as far as I could see a rather plain woman She was wearing a fur coat which I hoped was imitation but I suspected might not be, and she appeared to have had a purple rinse in her hair. I've heard that some women married to men who make their living in a dubious manner prefer not to know where the money comes from so long as it keeps coming.

Just then the door of the vestry opened and the minister appeared, followed by Reggie and two other young men, his Best Man and Usher. Reggie looked at his parents and then held my gaze for a fraction of a second; he didn't smile. My heart went out to him. He didn't look like a man on the happiest day of his life, more like someone walking to the gallows, or was that my vivid actress's imagination?.

A few seconds later the organ which had been playing quietly in the background burst into the Bridal March from Lohengrin. As is tradition, we all stood and turned to watch the bride walk up the aisle on the arm of her father. I had to stifle a gasp. Sophie was wearing a big white 'Cinderella' wedding dress with a bridal veil, hardly suitable attire for someone who had announced she was pregnant, but she had obviously promised herself the full bridal experience.

' Hmm, she's got more front than Selfridges,' I thought to myself.

Now I had my first look at Sid Vertue. People don't always look how you imagine them, but in Sid's case he did. He was wearing a dinner suit of course, although I imagined that his usual dress was a lot flashier. His hair was jet black and shiny, probably dyed, and slicked back into a pony tail, something I have never come to terms with in men, especially older ones. His nose was large and pointed, and I couldn't help thinking that he looked like a rat. I took all this in a single glance, since people often sense when someone is looking at them, and I didn't want to draw his attention.

It was hard to see where Sophie was looking thanks to the veil, and in a few seconds they and the two bridesmaids passed us. When they arrived in front of the minister, my heart lurched as Sid placed Sophie's hand into that of Reggie. Dale must have sensed my reaction because he reached for my hand and held it. I gripped him so tightly my nails dug into his skin and he winced.

“Sorry,” I whispered and eased my grip. I watched the minister as he opened his prayer book. ' He's putting on a performance. I wonder how many times he's done it and how many times he's thought 'this won't last',' I thought.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the face of this company...” he began.

It was when he came to “If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together...” I wanted to jump up and cry out “Yes, I can show just cause, because the bride is a seductress, a cheat and a liar!'

“...let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.” And I, coward that I was, held my peace and said nothing.

The moment passed and the minister carried on. I think I tuned out of the rest of the service. There was a couple of hymns, and a man stood up and read the traditional '1 Corinthians 13', which is all about love, and I thought of Tina Turner singing 'What's love got to do with it?'.

Finally the whole ghastly business was over and the organ was blasting out Mendelssohn's 'Wedding March' as Sophie and Reggie started to walk down the aisle. Sophie caught my eye and gave me a look of triumph which changed to a questioning look as she caught sight of Dale standing beside me. Once they had reached the church door, we all started to walk down the aisle after them. For the first time I saw the people in the pew behind me and a couple of them I recognised from when I was at school, but they showed no sign of knowing who I was, and I was grateful for that.

The photographer and videographer were instantly busy capturing the occasion, and after they had shot every possible combination of bridal party and relatives, we were all coerced into assembling on the church steps for a group photo. After that it appeared that the bridal party was going to a park for yet more photos, but for the rest of us, it was a chance to take a break before coming back for the reception.

Dale drove us back to the hotel, and we took it in turns to go into the bathroom to change. I took off my dress and put on my dressing gown and Dale took off his suit and also put on his dressing gown, Then we both lay on the bed to relax for a while. I set my alarm clock for four o'clock.

“You did very well to get through that,” said Dale.

“I nearly lost it at one stage,” I replied. “I'm sorry the way I dug my nails into your hand. I hope there's no permanent damage?”

Dale laughed. “I'll live,” he replied.

“I wonder how many times people have stood up at the point where the minister asks if anyone has an objection to the marriage? There's always that second or so where everyone in the church seems to hold their breath. I must confess I was sorely tempted.”

“Well, that would have blown your strategy out of the water of course. Does having Reggie's aunt there cause complications?”

“I don't think so. That's why I had to have a word with her. I didn't want her to misunderstand what she sees at the reception. The trouble is I couldn't say too much, I just hope she trusts me.”

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 to Julia Phillips for picking up 'typos' etc which we missed..

---

Chapter 25   Putting on an act.

I think Dale and I actually dozed for a bit, because the next thing I knew, my alarm clock was buzzing. It was time for Act Two. Dale went into the bathroom to put his suit trousers back on, wash his face and brush his hair. Then he came out to finish dressing and give me use of the bathroom. Men have it easy really; Dale would be wearing exactly what he wore during the afternoon, whereas I was changing to a new dress and completely revamping my makeup for the evening. Did I envy him? Not a bit.

Dale knocked on the bathroom door and called out that he was going to wait for me in the lobby. I came out to change my hair by sweeping it up into a chignon. Then I changed my makeup to 'evening' mode, with mascara on my eye lashes, eye shadow for the traditional 'smoky eye' look and deep red lipstick. Next I changed to a new black strapless bra, some sheer black tights, and wiggled into my glamorous new evening gown, doing up the zip with some difficulty. Finally I stepped into my matching new shoes with six inch heels, picked up my second clutch bag with lipstick, powder and a spare pair of tights, gave myself an approving look in the mirror and went down to the lobby to meet Dale.

This time his reaction was even greater than last time. “Wow Harriet, you certainly know how to do Glamour with a capital 'G',” he said.

“Well I'm playing the part of a top actress!” I replied.

He laughed. “You're not playing a part, that's who you are,” he said.

You've got to like someone who comes out with a compliment like that!

Dale asked the receptionist to order us a taxi. We were both adamant that we don't drink and drive, and while neither of us intended to get drunk (tempting though it was for me), why shouldn't we avail ourselves of Sid's French champagne, assuming that's what was on offer?

The taxi arrived a few minutes later, Dale opened the door for me and I slid into the back seat. It was only a few minutes' drive to the reception rooms and we arrived there at six o'clock and entered the foyer. I was pleased to see that most of the women had changed into evening wear so I did not stand out in the crowd. Waiters were circulating with canapés and drinks, so we helped ourselves while waiting for proceedings to begin.

Apart from the Staunton family and Aunt Jane who stood together chatting, I didn't know anyone there so we just stood by ourselves until the big double doors to the main room were opened. A tall man in a tuxedo appeared and announced himself as James the M.C. and asked us to take our seats. A young woman standing beside him carrying a clipboard asked our names and directed us to a numbered table. I was rather glad that we weren't sitting with the Stauntons for fear that they might say something inappropriate about me. Instead, we were seated at a table of eight with Aunt Jane, an older gentleman who turned out to be a great uncle of Sophie, and two young couples who were school friends of Reggie and Sophie, together with their partners.

We introduced ourselves with first names only, Dale, Harriet, George (the great uncle), Jane, Rob (Reggie's friend) and Elly, Max and Stella. As strangers do, we enquired of each other how we came to know the bride and groom. I recognised Rob from school and had my fingers crossed that he wouldn't see any similarity between me and the young Harry at the school he had attended. However it seemed my appearance triggered something in his mind.

“If you don't mind me saying so, Harriet is an unusual name nowadays,” he said. “Actually, you look vaguely familiar. Since you know Reggie, do you come from Bridchester too?”

“Yes, I grew up there,” I replied, thinking that the truer my answers, the less likely I was to get caught out.

“Harriet is an actress, currently performing in Stratford,” said Dale. I think he was trying to distract attention away from my past life.

“An actress!” said Stella. “How exciting! Are you currently in a play?”

“Yes, we're doing 'Romeo and Juliet' and I'm sharing the 'Juliet' rôle with another actress,” I replied.

“Goodness me, and in Stratford too, you must be good,” Stella enthused.

I couldn't help blushing. “Well I guess the director must have thought I was good enough,” I said with a laugh, trying to make light of it.

That lead to an enquiry about my surname.

“Stow!” said Rob. “Now I remember; I was at school with a Harry Stow. Are you any relation?”

I was ready for that. “He's my cousin,” I replied. “The last time I heard he was in Australia.”

He seemed satisfied with my explanation, and the conversation went on to other things. One hurdle successfully surmounted and I breathed an inner sigh of relief. Stella, who had swapped with Max to sit beside me was very interested in my career and I was happy to chat to her about it, hoping Rob wouldn't ask any more awkward questions. I noticed that George seemed to be doing his best to chat up Aunt Jane, and the others were happy to talk to each other.

Now the M.C. took up the microphone and asked everyone to be upstanding while the wedding party entered the room to the band playing a jazzy version of 'Here Comes the Bride”. Once they were seated, he invited Sid to take the microphone and welcome everyone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” he began. “I'd like to welcome you all to the wedding of our Sophie to Reginald. As a business man, it's great to have an economist in the family.”

'He's not an accountant,' I thought to myself, 'but perhaps you don't know the difference'.

“When Sophie told me she was going to marry Reginald, I tried to talk her out of it. I said 'Soph, you're too young; you're at Uni, why don't you wait a couple of years?' But you know what the young people of today are like, they want it all and they want it now. Anyhow Reginald is a fine young man and I'm sure they'll be very happy together, so I'd like you all to be upstanding while I propose a toast – the bride and groom!”

We all stood up, raised our glasses and drank. Then the entrées were served and conversation lapsed as we ate. I had salmon and I must say it was very good, although thinking about how Reggie might handle his speech blunted my appetite to a degree.

The main course followed and as the plates were cleared away, James the M.C., called for silence and the speeches and toasts began. Reggie was on first, and as he rose to his feet he looked nervous.

“On behalf of my wife and myself,” he started in the traditional way which always gets a laugh, though not from me as it felt like a dagger in my heart. “I would like to thank you all for coming here today, and also for the beautiful gifts you have given us. Sid and Mildred have done an amazing job in organising the wedding and reception, and of course for being responsible for Sophie, my beautiful bride.

“I must also thank my own parents who have done their best to bring me up as decent human being and someone who will make a good husband. I hope they are proud of me.

“I confess that when I arrived in York to start my university course, the last thing on my mind was the thought of getting married, but sometimes you get an offer you can't refuse,” he said, looking down at Sophie.

There was general laughter at that remark, but I was watching Sid who fortunately joined in, and I thought to myself 'Careful Reggie, you're treading on thin ice. I hope Sid never watched 'The Godfather', although it might have been his favourite movie.'

“We first met after a lecture when she asked me to explain a point in our economics course and naturally, being a typical male, I puffed out my chest and described it all in a very superior manner. Somehow this was only the first of a series of occasions when my help was called upon. (Much laughter from the guests, but I confess that I was mortified. This was something I hadn't heard about before.)

“Many thanks to everyone else who helped today be such a success, including the bridesmaids and my Best Man and Usher. Everyone thinks that these are ceremonial jobs, but they actually have to work quite hard to make sure everything goes smoothly, for example not forgetting the rings. (More laughter)

“Now I know that Tom is champing at the bit to deliver his speech, but before he does so, I must mention that he suffers from a rare medical condition which causes him to invent fanciful stories about his friends, so by all means enjoy his speech but don't believe a word of it. But before I turn Tom loose, I'd like you all to be upstanding and join me in a toast to the bridesmaids.”

Then Tom the Best Man stood up, produced a large piece of paper which he theatrically tore up into small pieces, saying “Well, thanks to Reggie that's all I can do with my original speech! Seriously though, I first met Reggie in primary school and we have been firm friends ever since. He's a guy you can always rely on, what he says he will do, he does. I wish him well, as I'm sure we all do in this new stage of his life.

“I've only just met Sophie but I'm sure she will be a wonderful wife and they will enjoy their future together. So, Reggie and Sophie, I know that this isn't a typical 'Best Man' speech full of embarrassing stories, but truly, there aren't any to tell about Reggie – he's straight as a die and always will be. Now it is my great pleasure to propose a toast to the Sophie's parents, Mr and Mrs Vertue. To Mildred and Sid.”

The speeches continued and the telegrams were read, some genuine and some not. In fact some were downright embarrassing, but that seems to be a tradition in most weddings. Then Sophie and Reggie stood up and walked across to the small table where the wedding cake was waiting, and of course the ceremonial cutting of it was recorded with more photos and video. After that they walked onto the dance floor and danced a waltz together. After one round of the floor, the rest of the wedding party joined them, followed by both sets of parents and then the rest of the guests.

Dale was a very good dancer, and in fact had been teaching me back at the flat. I had received some dancing lessons at school back in my former life, but of course had to learn all over again. I'm reminded of that remark about Ginger Rogers being the better dancer because she did everything Fred Astaire did, but backwards and in high heels. Surprisingly, it seemed that I managed to display my new skills quite well.

The bridal waltz finished and the band started another one. It's a tradition that the wedding party and guests change partners at this point, and it didn't surprise me in the least when Sid appeared and asked Dale if he might dance with me, although I didn't expect it to happen so soon.

“I'm so glad you were able to come today Miss Stow,” he said.

“Call me Harriet, please, “ I replied, and I even managed a smile, although it wasn't easy, looking into those cold eyes. 'So that's where Sophie got them from,' I thought.

“And you must call me Sid. So, no hard feelings about Sophie and Reginald then?” he enquired.

In a confidential tone I said. “To be honest with you, our relationship had been on the wane for some time. Maybe Sophie coming along just accelerated things.” I was surprised how easily and convincingly I lied. Being an actress has its advantages.

“And the young man you're with today?” he asked.

“Dale? He taught me to drive,” I said, embellishing the facts a bit. “Then he moved in to a spare room in my flat, just as a friend at first you understand? Things developed from there, so it's all worked out for the best. It's not serious, but has certain benefits which is just the way I want it at present.”

“I see,” he said and then changed the subject, apparently convinced. “I understand you're a successful actress.”

“I've been very fortunate so far,” I said with a self-deprecating smile.

“Well I'm sure you're going to have a great career,” he said.

“That's my top priority at present,” I replied.

The music stopped then. Sid smiled. “I'd better get back to my wife. I wouldn't want her to get jealous seeing me dancing with such a pretty lady.” With that he escorted me back to my table. After he left, Dale said quietly “Everything alright?”

“Couldn't be better. Maybe it's time we had another dance,” I said. Dale took my hand and we returned to the dance floor again, dancing cheek to cheek.

“Maybe time for a kiss?” I murmured, and Dale lowered his lips onto mine. He was indeed a very good kisser; not as good as Reggie, but still very nice.

When we sat down, Aunt Jane was missing but a few minutes later Reggie escorted her back to our table and then he held out his hand to me. “Shall we?” he said.

I took his hand but wondered if this was wise.

“I hope Sophie doesn't mind,” I said.

“On the contrary, it was her idea,” he replied. It seemed that we were going through a series of tests, and she was calling the shots.

“I danced with her father,” I said.

“I know,” replied Reggie. “I saw you. I saw the kiss too, very convincing.”

“That was the idea,” I replied. I wasn't dancing too close to him, like friends but not lovers. This would be my greatest test yet since the urge to cling to him was almost overwhelming. I knew we were being watched, and I didn't dare say too much in case we were overheard, but there was one thing I wanted to know.

“Will you have to leave university and get a job now?” I asked.

“Sid says I should stay there and get my degree. If I do a bit of work for him part-time he'll make sure we have enough to live on. Sophie will have to defer of course, that's assuming things are as she says.”

I wanted to ask what sort of work Sid had in mind for Reggie, but the music stopped then and he escorted me back to my table.

The reception ground on and I couldn't wait for it to finish. Finally after disappearing for a while, Sophie and Reggie reappeared having changed into 'smart casual' clothes, and then headed for the taxi waiting outside, which disappeared down the road in a clatter or tin cans tied to the bumper bar. For me that was the hardest moment of all, and I was glad that it was dark and no-one could see my face.

A series of taxis arrived and Dale and I were able to share one with another couple who were staying at the same hotel.

Back at the hotel we went to our room and took it in turns to get undressed in the bathroom. Dale offered to sleep on the sofa, but I said that if we kept our dressing gowns on, why shouldn't we share the double bed. I had a feeling that was the best thing to do. Sid had seemed convinced about the relationship between Dale and I, but I had a niggling feeling that he might want further confirmation. It wasn't long before I fell asleep and I was glad of that. One thing I didn't want to think about was what Reggie and Sophie might be doing at that moment.

The following morning Dale and I awoke to the sound of a knock on the door. We hadn't ordered breakfast, and I knew immediately that Sid had indeed decided to check on my story.

“You answer the door while I slip my dressing-gown off,” I whispered. When Dale opened to door, there I was lying in bed, déshabillé, one nightgown strap off my shoulder, hair in disarray, doing my best to look like I had experienced a night of passion.

A young maid wheeled a breakfast trolley was into the room.

“We didn't order breakfast in our room,” said Dale.

The maid looked at the order form on the trolley. “This is the right room number,” she said. “Maybe there's been a mistake. Do you mind if I phone the kitchen?”

After a short conversation she put down the phone and said “I'm sorry, there was a mistake. It's a full English breakfast and if I take it back they will only throw it away, so would you like to have it free of charge?”

“What do you think darling?” said Dale to me.

“I think we should keep it. Please thank the kitchen for us,” I replied, and Dale took a five pound note out of his wallet and gave it to her.

Once she had left the room Dale smiled. “Well we might as well enjoy Sid's bounty,” he said. I put my dressing-gown on again and joined him at the table.

“It seems like he did want to check that we were kosher,” I said. “I hope he's satisfied now.”

When we had finished breakfast, we took it in turns to shower and dress.

“Are you in a hurry to get back to Stratford?” asked Dale.

“Not especially, why?”

“I just thought that since we're at the seaside and the sun is shining we might as well make a day of it.”

There's something about the sea air, the mewing of the seagulls and walking barefoot on the sand which I had missed since I had left Bridchester, so I was happy to agree with Dale's suggestion. I knew that he was doing his best to divert my attention from the events of the previous day, and I really appreciated it.

We walked along the promenade, hand in hand at Dale's suggestion, watched the holiday-makers and even had fish and chips for lunch, with plenty of salt and vinegar of course. It was mid afternoon before we took the road back to Stratford. Dale suggested I drive for the first hour, then he took over and finally I drove the last part of the journey back to the flat. What a strange weekend it had been, but at least I could feel assured that Sid and Sophie were convinced that I was no longer a problem to be solved. A few days later I wrote a nice card to Sid and his wife, thanking them for inviting us to the wedding. I debated with myself and decided it might be better not to mention the breakfast.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 26   Another step towards a new life

Back at Stratford life returned to normal, well as normal as it gets for an actress. I asked Cassie how Jemma had performed in the matinée.

“She was nervous of course, but she seemed to be able to convert that into the intensity of her performance. Don played Romeo. It was his first public performance too and I think that was David's idea, not putting added pressure on Jemma by having Richard perform with her. Anyway it all went very well,” she paused. “How did things go for you at Blackpool?”

“Well enough. I got through watching the love of my life marry someone else without having a screaming fit, and I convinced the bride and her father that I'm in love with Dale and Reggie is no longer of any interest to me – a bit like Romeo and Rosaline when Juliet comes along. Isn't it amazing how parts of Shakespeare's plays can be relevant to real life?”

Cassie laughed when I told her about the unexpected breakfast at the hotel.

“I'm sure it was to check if Dale and I were really an item and I'm equally sure that what the maid saw and reported back convinced Sid that it was true. I don't suppose she really knew what it was about. She probably thought it was a jealous husband checking up on a straying wife.”

“Well, sharing the flat with Dale helps to confirm your story too,” said Cassie.

I was determined that I must keep things together. There were two things I wanted most in the world, well three if you count having a successful career on stage; I wanted Reggie as my partner in life (and I was still convinced that I would eventually have that), but the other thing was to continue with my transition and have my surgery. The one thing which would put paid to it was if my specialist thought I was having mental issues. In my view that would only happen if I was prevented from having a body which matched my mind.

I was still visiting Dr McLeish on a regular basis, and was very pleased when at my November appointment she said she was close to preparing the necessary paperwork for me to have Gender Confirmation Surgery. This was very good news after all I had been through recently.

“However, you do need a referral from a mental health specialist as well as from me. I have been looking up specialists in the Stratford area since I know it's difficult for you to come down here during the week. I've spoken to a Dr Lina Schwartz who I think would be a suitable person for you to see since she has had experience with transgender patients. Would you be happy for me to write you a referral to see her?”

“Certainly,” I replied. “Anything that helps me achieve my goal.”

“Very well, but remember, if you do not feel she is the right person for you, just let me know and I can arrange for you to see someone else.”

“How long will her assessment take?” I asked.

“There's no set minimum or maximum time,” said Dr McLeish. “She will tell you when she is able to write you a referral for surgery. By the way, are you planning to go to a private clinic or the National Health Service?”

“I'm saving up for a private clinic,” I replied. “I imagine they would be able to give me an appointment sooner than under the NHS.”

“Yes, you are right, probably within six months after meeting the surgeon, as opposed to maybe eighteen months or two years with the NHS.”

“I've been looking at some websites and the Tower Bridge Plastic Surgery Clinic looks good. Another advantage of a private clinic is that even if someone who knew me became aware that I was receiving treatment there, it could be for anything plastic surgery related, and I hope the last thing they would think of is what I'm really going there for.”

Dr McLeish smiled. “I happen to know Mr Edgar Summers who performs the GCS there, and he's very well respected. You couldn't be in better hands.”

“Once I get the referrals, I'll ring them up and make an appointment to see him,” I said. “At present I don't have any parts lined up after 'Romeo and Juliet' finishes in mid-December, so maybe he could do my surgery in the first half of next year?”

Meanwhile, I wanted to see my family if only for a day, to tell them what had happened and the reason for it. I phoned Mum and told her I would be driving up the following Sunday morning and staying overnight before returning to Stratford on Monday. Mum, however, had some news for me which made it all the more important that I see her.

“I ran into the Stauntons at the shops this week, and they told me that Reggie had married some girl at York University. I must admit I was totally shocked, darling. What's that all about?” said Mum.

“I can't explain right now Mum, but I'll tell you all about it when I see you,” I replied.

It wasn't a very satisfactory answer, but fortunately Mum was too sensible to try grilling me about it over the phone.

Despite performing on the Saturday evening, I was up early on Sunday morning. I had packed the previous day, so I was on the road by eight o'clock, heading for Bridchester. The trip passed without incident and I arrived at Mum's house about noon, just in time for lunch. I must say her self-restraint was remarkable, as she served lunch first and we confined our conversation to small talk before we retired the the lounge room for coffee. It was only then that I related the whole sorry saga, including the implied threat to me.

“I can hardly believe this,” said Mum. “It sounds like something out of a 'penny dreadful'.”

I should explain that Mum was here referring to the cheap paperbacks with lurid descriptions of crime published back in the Victorian era. I had to agree that it seemed a fairly accurate description of what had happened, and how much I wished that it was fiction.

“We've been brought up in a nice steady middle-class culture, Mum, but there are people out there who will do that sort of thing, and it doesn't pay to mess with them. The good guys don't always win.”

“Poor Reggie, what a sacrifice he's made. I thought his parents didn't seem too happy about the situation,” said Mum.

“Yes, it's ironic but I think they would actually have preferred him to marry me if that had been possible. Of course I'm sure he hasn't mentioned the threat to me, or they'd really hate me and think that in some way this was all my fault.”

“Speaking of that, darling, when are you proposing to have your surgery?”

I'm sure Mum found it difficult to ask that question. While she fully supported me in my transitioning, she belonged to another generation, and I don't think she found it easy to think about what my surgery entailed.

“I saw Dr McLeish, my specialist in London recently, and she told me I need a second referral from a mental health specialist. It's not because she thinks I'm disturbed, it's a prerequisite for getting the surgery. I'm going to see a specialist in Stratford, it will be much easier than going to London. Once I get the two referrals, then I'll make an appointment to see a specialist surgeon.. I hope the surgery will take place in the first half of next year.

“It's better for me to go to a private clinic, so I'm busy saving all the money I can, and obtaining a starring rôle in 'Romeo and Juliet' has certainly helped. I have a great agent in Richard Green and I have Dame Emily to thank for that. The money he obtains for me is more that I would ever have dared ask on my own.”

“What about post surgery? How long does recovery take?” asked Mum.

“As I understand it I will be in hospital for about a week, stay in a London hotel close by for another week or so for more post op checks, and then spend another six weeks or so recovering.”

“Would you like to come here to stay while you're recuperating?” said Mum.

“Oh Mum, could I? That would be brilliant,” I said, tearing up a bit.

“Of course you can. You'll need someone to look after you.”

There's no-one like your Mum.

That afternoon we went to see Emma and baby Elizabeth who was growing fast. Emma seemed so content as a mum, that I think I could be forgiven for feeling just a tiny bit envious of her. Still, we can't have everything.

On this occasion, Emma had a surprise for me. “We're thinking of organising Elizabeth's christening soon, and we'd like to invite you to be her godmother,” she said.

“Oh goodness!” I exclaimed. “Am I the right sort of person to be that? I'm not a regular church-goer.”

“Well David and I think you are exactly the right sort of person,” said Emma.

I looked a Mum. “Did you know about this?” I said accusingly.

She laughed. “Of course I did, and I completely agree with Emma and David's choice, but it was up to Emma to ask you, not me,” she replied.

“Well, what can I say but 'yes'?” I said. “And I'm very honoured that you chose me.”

“It will be on a Sunday afternoon in about three weeks. Can you make it then?”

“That will be perfect,” I replied. “I know it sounds like everything revolves around the theatre, but it will be the day after I perform in the matinée, so I'll have more time to rest before I drive up.”

My visit to Bridchester was only brief, but it had a wonderfully soothing effect on my mind, and when I drove back to Stratford the following day, I was actually singing along with the car radio.

The next day I rang Dr Schwartz's office to arrange an appointment, explaining that I had a referral from Dr McLeish. I was fortunate in that she had a cancellation and could see me the following morning.

When I was shown into her office I was quite surprised how young she looked. I handed over the referral from Dr McLeish, sat in the chair she indicated and crossed my legs while I waited for her to read it. Since it was cool I was wearing my tartan wool skirt with black opaque tights and three inch heels and a silk blouse over my camisole. I wanted to look feminine but still keep warm.

She looked up and smiled. “Well Miss Stow, may I call you Harriet?”

“Please do,” I said.

“Dr McLeish phoned and asked me if I would speak to you with a view to providing your second referral, so that you can be a candidate for Gender Confirmation Surgery. I wondered why your name was familiar to me, but reading her referral, when I came to the part where Dr McLeish says that you're an actress, I realised that I had seen you in the local production of 'Hamlet' some months back. If I may say so, you performed very well.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I've been very fortunate in obtaining work with the ISC.”

“Why don't you start by telling me your earliest memories of feeling that your body did not match your perceived gender?”

So I started retelling the story of my early days, all of which has been related in my first memoir 'The Might-Have-Been Girl', and continued in the present memoir.

Dr Schwartz listened intently, making notes and asking the occasional question to clarify a point. When I reached the present day and what had happened with Reggie, I was tempted to self-censor, but realised that if she later found out what had happened, that might make it seem of more significance, so, hard though it was, I related the story.

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked.

“Well, I'm learning to cope with it. Reggie is my first love and the first man I've ever been intimate with, so it's natural that I should feel upset. I still believe we will be together one day but it may take a lot longer than I had hoped. In the meantime I want to be the most complete woman I can be before we are together again, as much for myself as for him.”

“When are you hoping to have your surgery?” she asked.

“Early next year would be good. I know I have to take about two months off altogether, and after that I hope to secure another rôle in Stratford, but if it doesn't happen then I will have to look elsewhere. Performers live rather a gypsy lifestyle, it goes with the territory.”

Dr Schwartz smiled. “Well we've been speaking for an hour and I think that's enough for today. I'd like to see you again. Can you make it next week?”

“Yes of course. The current season of 'Romeo and Juliet' is coming to an end and at Christmas I will be going up to Bridchester to spend it with my family, so if it's possible to get the referral before Christmas I would really appreciate it, but I realise that I'm in your and Dr McLeish's hands.”

“You're performing as Juliet?” she enquired. I took it for granted that she knew, but of course it's easy to forget that most people have other priorities in their lives than what is happening in the local theatre.

“Yes, well I'm sharing the role with Cassie Good. We do alternate performances.”

Dr Schwartz smiled. “Well, see my receptionist and ask her to fit you for an appointment next week.”

The following week I saw Dr Schwartz again.

“Good morning Harriet, please come in and take a seat. I've been reviewing the notes I made at our last meeting and there's a few points I'd like to clarify with you. I'm sure Dr McLeish has already spoken to you about this, but I need to hear it from you as well. You do understand that the surgery you are proposing to have is irreversible?”

“Yes I do, and I'm perfectly happy with that. I know that I was always meant to be a woman, but somehow I ended up with the wrong body. I want to take steps to correct that mistake as far as I possibly can.

“You also realise that this surgery will make you sterile?”

“Yes I do. I know that as a woman I can never have children and that is a source of regret to me, but perhaps I may be allowed to adopt a child one day if things work out with me and Reggie. For now, all I can do is accept things as they are.

Dr Schwartz made a few more notes and then sat back in her chair seeming to relax.

“I saw you perform in 'Romeo and Juliet' last night and I was very impressed.”

“I hope you enjoyed it,” I said. “Acting is what I love doing, but I hope you don't think I'm acting when I say most sincerely that even more important to me is becoming as a complete a woman as I can be.”

She laughed. “I have been trained to differentiate between acting and genuine feelings. In my line of work, some people try to pull the wool over my eyes, but they rarely if ever succeed. I'm sure there wasn't a single member of last night's audience (and I include myself in that number), who didn't think that they were watching a young woman performing that rôle. When you first saw me last week it was immediately apparent to me that in appearance, speech and mannerisms your true gender is female; all you need is the surgery.

“I normally see people in your position for at least three sessions, maybe more, but in your case I do not see the need. I am quite comfortable in writing your referral for surgery and also writing a report for Dr McLeish.”

I was thrilled at her remarks but did my best to keep my emotions under control.

“Thank you very much Dr Schwartz, I really appreciate it,” I said. “That's the best early Christmas present I could receive.”

I was walking on air when I left her rooms. As soon as I received the two referrals I would make an appointment to see the surgeon Dr McLeish recommended - Dr Edgar Summers.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 27   A surprise engagement

On the Monday morning we had the usual cast meeting where David went over a few minor changes in the production – 'tweaks' as he called them. At the conclusion he asked us all to sit in the front stalls as the CEO Duncan Morgan wanted to speak to us.

A moment later the boss strode onto the stage and looked down at us. “This feels a bit strange,” he said. “You should be up here on the stage and I should be down there looking up at you.”

He received the anticipated laugh and went on “For the past few months, the Executive Department has been secretly working on a project. We didn't want to reveal it in case it didn't come off and you'd all be disappointed, but now I can tell you that we have organised an overseas tour by the Imperial Shakespeare Company, starting next February.”

There was a buzz of excitement at this revelation.

“We'll be visiting three continents – first Singapore in Asia, then Perth, Melbourne and Sydney in Australia; Auckland and Christchurch in New Zealand, and then across to America, first Los Angeles, San Francisco and Seattle, then Washington D.C., and ending up in New York. We will be presenting two of our recent productions, 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Twelfth Night', since we thought a tragedy and a comedy would be a good mix.

“We would like to take as many of the original cast members as possible, although we realise that for various reasons some people may not be able to make the trip. Another thing is that while it's exciting, it will also be very hard work. We will be going through many time zones, so there will be a lot of jet-lag, and presenting the plays at so many different venues, each one different in performance space, will require a lot of re-staging and only a limited amount of rehearsal time to get used to it.

“At the first stop in Singapore, we will be performing in the Kallang Theatre which used to be a cinema and seats about 1700 people. I should mention that in New York we won't be on Broadway since those theatres are tied up years in advance with long-running shows, but we won't be too far 'off Broadway'.

“We will be speaking to all the original cast members to see if they are interested in going, and we hope that most if not all of the principal players will be able to make the trip. If not, we will have time to re-cast the vacancies and give them time to learn the parts and rehearse. Are there any questions at this stage?”

Thinking of my proposed surgery I asked “When will we arrive back in England?”

“About mid-April,” said Malcolm. “'Oh to be in England now that April's there', you know? Well of course you do.”

Indeed I doubt if there was anyone sitting the the stalls who was not familiar with Robert Browning's famous poem 'Home Thoughts from Abroad.'

As we left the auditorium I said to Cassie “Will you be going?”

“Try and stop me!” she exclaimed. “What an exciting challenge it will be, but I wonder about our older cast members. It will be very tiring.”

That evening I rang Mum to tell her about the overseas trip.

“If you're going to Melbourne perhaps you can meet up with Aunt Peggy,” she said.

“That would be great,” I replied. “I'm not sure how far her place is from Melbourne, Yackandandah wasn't it? It might be hours away.”

“I get the impression from Peggy that Australians are used to driving long distances,” said Mum. “Why don't you write to her as soon as you know when you'll be there? I'm sure she wouldn't miss an opportunity to see you acting again.”

“That's a good idea Mum. I'll give her my email address too. That would help her send a quick reply if she's got a computer.”

While waiting in the wings with Richard before the next performance I said to him “Isn't it exciting about the overseas tour? I'm so looking forward to it.”

“I've got a slight problem with it,” he replied. “My agent's been in touch and he suggests I audition for a film that's going to be made next year, but shooting is due to start in March.”

“Oh!” I said, not bothering to hide my disappointment.

“Don't get me wrong, I'd really love to do the tour as well, but they're likely to clash so I've got to decide which one to pick. The film will pay a lot more, but then money isn't everything.”

“Except it allows you to be miserable in comfort,” I said with a smile, intending my remark as a joke.

Richard looked at me seriously. “Are you miserable Harriet? It just seems that you aren't as happy as you were previously.”

I flushed. Was it that obvious? Meanwhile Richard looked like he was making up his mind to say something.

“You know what a hotbed of gossip theatres are and I've never been one to play that game, it's just that, well, I heard a story that someone you were keen on has married somebody else recently.”

Now I really did flush beetroot. Did nothing stay a secret here? I took a deep breath.

“Yes it is true, but I don't blame Reggie one bit. Unfortunately I'm sworn to secrecy, so I can't go into details. If you knew the facts, you wouldn't blame him either.”

“I'm sorry,” said Richard, and he took my hand and squeezed it. It was somehow comforting. “I shouldn't have mentioned it, please forgive me.”

“There's nothing to forgive, really. Sometimes life doesn't work out quite the way you expect or want.”

“Will it mean a lot to you if I do the tour?” said Richard softly.

“Of course it will. We act so well together that it feels very special and I think the audiences feel that way too. But of course you must do what feels right for you. We all want to have a successful career and sometimes that means being a bit, well 'selfish' isn't really the word, maybe 'focussed' is a better one?

Richard laughed. “Actually I think you're right, doing the tour might be the best move for my career. You never know, many people have told me that signing up for films can be a risky business. Sometimes they fall through or get delayed, so I might even be able to do the tour and the film, assuming it goes ahead and I get the part. I'll talk to my agent and tell him what I've decided.”

“I hope I haven't talked you into this Richard; if it all goes pear-shaped I don't want you blaming me.”

“There's no chance of that,” he replied. “It's entirely my own decision. In this life you win some and lose some.” He stopped abruptly. “I'm so sorry, that was an incredibly tactless thing to say.”

I managed a laugh. “You must think I'm awfully sensitive,” I said. It was only then that I realised that we were still holding hands, and I wondered how many people had seen us standing there in our own little world.

I didn't know where or for how long Reggie and Sophie had gone on their honeymoon, indeed I had no wish to know. However since the academic year was in full swing, I assumed that Reggie would be back at university by now.

I decided I should send him an email using Hotmail, letting him know I was alright, but decided that I should not mention the overseas tour just in case he spoke about it by accident and Sophie would guess where he found out. There was bound to be a press release before long, and no doubt it would appear in the newspapers.

It was strange, but I felt a little awkward in writing to him, as though I really shouldn't be doing it. Despite the way in which he had been 'persuaded' to marry Sophie, the fact remained that he was now a married man, and somehow writing secretly to him just felt plain wrong, like we were having an affair. However, there was the point of view that a large part of the reason he had married her was to protect me, so not to be in contact with him now would make it seem as though I didn't appreciate all he had done for me and had abandoned him. I suddenly felt very confused. Another problem, how should I end the message? To write anything less than 'Love, Harriet' was unthinkable. In the end, I wrote as follows:

'Dear Reggie,

I'm writing to tell you that I am alright. The play continues to have great audiences, often full houses, so that is taking up most of my time.

I hope you are going well. I expect that you are now back at university and I hope everything is going well there.

I drove to Bridchester to see Mum and Emma last week and it was good to catch up with all that is happening there. Emma has asked me to be godmother to my niece Elizabeth. She is growing very quickly and weighs over nine pounds now. They are all keeping well.

I'll write again soon.

Love, Harriet'

I read it through several times. It seemed stilted, like a message written to someone I didn't know very well, certainly not to a lover. I didn't know what else to write, so in the end I sent it as it was.

A reply came the following day. It almost seemed as if Reggie was waiting to hear from me.

'Dear Harriet,

It was so good to hear from you. I'm sorry we didn't get more time to talk at the reception. Yes, I'm back at university now and so is Sophie. The course is going well, and my tutors seem pleased with my progress. I now have a place in the University Football Team and will play my first game with them next week. I will let you know how it goes.

Do you know what you will be doing when the season of 'Romeo and Juliet' comes to an end? Do you have another play lined up? I guess that being an actress means constantly having job interviews which is hard, but I couldn't imagine you doing anything else.

Love, Reggie'

I read it over several times. From the way it was written it seemed as if Reggie was having trouble writing too. I supposed we would just have to get used to it.

On Friday when Richard and I were waiting in the wings to go on-stage, he said “Are you doing anything on Sunday?”

“Probably washing my hair,” I replied with a smile. “Why?”

“I was just wondering if you'd like to go for a drive in the country and have lunch somewhere? I know that's a bit of a cheek since you've got a car and I don't, but I'd be happy to pay for the lunch and the petrol.”

Richard's offer was in fact very welcome. I knew that Dale was going to London for the weekend to see Frank, and I didn't fancy hanging around the flat on my own. One thing that did surprise me about Richard's suggestion was that I understood he had a girlfriend. I wondered if they'd had a row?

Sunday dawned bright but cold with some frost on the ground, after all it was now late November. I decided on my tartan skirt with black opaque tights, and a woollen jumper over my camisole. I also put on some boots in case we decided to go for a walk wherever we ended up, and I took a 'Tam o' Shanter' to keep my head warm.

I drove around to Richard's flat and knocked on the door. When he opened it he was well wrapped up against the cold too. He invited me in while he put on his shoes. As women do, I glanced around the room. It was a bit untidy and there didn't seem to be any sign of a female presence, but it seemed tactless to enquire about his present circumstances.

We drove north along the Birmingham Road to Henley-in-Arden, a small town with some interesting old buildings and to give ourselves an appetite for lunch we parked the car and walked to the site of the Beaudesert Castle, although apart from some earthworks and a single stone there is nothing else to see. As we walked we chatted.

“We might be wondering why I asked if you were free today,” said Richard. “The fact is, I've split up with my girlfriend and didn't fancy hanging around the flat on my own.”

I laughed. “Well I was on my own for the weekend too, so your invitation was most welcome,” I said. “Is it a serious split-up or do you think you'll get together again?”

Richard smile ruefully “I rather think it's permanent.”

“I've come to the conclusion that the sort of life an actor leads makes it hard to have a permanent relationship,” I said. “Of course you could say the solution is to start a relationship with another actor, but when you see how many divorces take place in Hollywood, that doesn't seem to work either.”

Richard laughed. “It is a bit of a gypsy lifestyle. We have to go where the work is. Before I landed 'Romeo' I was working in Edinburgh.”

“What about your family?” I said.

“My parents, two sisters and a brother all live in Swansea. They have 'sensible' jobs; I'm the only actor in the family.”

His mention of Swansea made me think of Aunt Jane and inevitably from there my mind went to thoughts of Reggie.

“What is it?” he asked. “You suddenly look very sad. Did I say something that upset you?”

“It's nothing,” I replied. “My ex-boyfriend Reggie has an aunt who lives in Swansea and I just thought about him. Why don't we head back to Henley and find somewhere to eat?”

We ended up at 'The Bluebell' and had a very nice lunch. I had a Caesar Salad and Richard had roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, which surprised me as he was thin as a reed. Some people just don't have to watch their diet, whereas others like me can put on pounds by just looking at Sticky Toffee Pudding, which is why I shouldn't really have had one but I did anyway. Comfort food?

We had plenty of time, so finished off with coffee and didn't leave until the 3.30pm closing time. When we arrived back at Richard's flat he invited me in for coffee and I accepted. As I left he kissed me on the cheek and thanked me for a really nice day.

“I must thank you too,” I replied. “Let's do it again sometime.”

There was a postscript to Sunday. Monday morning my mobile phone began to ring.

“Harriet? Harriet Stow?” said a female voice that sounded very angry.

“Who is this?” I asked cautiously.

“My name's Stella,” she replied. “And you're the bitch who stole my boyfriend.”

“Just a minute, I haven't stolen anyone’s boyfriend.”

“Oh yes? Well the facts say otherwise. Just try and deny that you went out with him on Sunday.”

It was a funny thing but when I arrived at Richard's flat I did have a feeling of being watched, but thought I was imagining it. It's amazing how many people can sense that. I wonder if it's inherited from the time when stone-age man had to watch out for sabre-toothed tigers and the like?

“Richard and I work together and we are just friends,” I replied.

“Friends you call it? I've seen you two on the stage, sister, and you aren't pretending.”

“So you've seen Romeo and Juliet'?”

“Sure. Richard got me a ticket. A total waste of two hours of my life. I couldn't understand hardly anything you actors were saying.”

“Well, it is Elizabethan English,” I replied mildly, trying to humour her.

“But I didn't need to understand what you were saying to know what was going on between you two.”

“But it's called 'acting'. It's meant to look real but it isn't really. When I stab myself at the end of the play, you know that's not real.”

“I'm not stupid. I know that's not real, but those love scenes are and don't pretend otherwise. Anyway it's not just that, When Richard was at home in the flat it was 'Harriet this' and 'Harriet that'. He couldn't stop talking about you.”

“Well I'm sorry if you've been upset, but I assure you Richard and I are not in love; we're actors and we are playing the parts of two people in love – there is a difference.”

“I can see I'm wasting my time here,” Stella replied. “Anyway, you watch out, and tell Richard to watch out too.” With that she put the phone down.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 28   Becoming a godmother

I sat there for a while thinking about what had just happened. Even though I didn't really take her implied threat seriously, certainly not the way I took Sid's, I decided that Richard should be told. I couldn't really tell him while standing in the wings, and it seemed unwise to visit his flat again in case Stella was still hanging around, so I asked to speak to him privately. I went down to his dressing room at the end of the performance. Donald, his understudy, fortunately seemed to sense that something was up and left us to it.

I gave Richard a summary of my conversation with Stella.

“I don't even know how she got hold of my phone number,” I said.

“I'm sorry Harriet. If you recall, you did give it to me and it was on my phone. She must have searched my contacts list.”

“I wouldn't have bothered you about it, but she might do something like throw a stone through your window”, I said. “I'm sure you've heard that old saying 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'?”

“Yes I have, and you may be right. She was far from happy when she left. I had quite a job getting the door key off her.”

“The thing is, she had no reason to be jealous. I tried to explain that we are acting, but she wouldn't buy it.”

Richard smiled. “It looks like we are doing too good a job.”

After I left Richard's dressing room, I started thinking again about the incident. Could Stella be right after all? Was there a bit more to our relationship than just pretending on stage? I didn't want to believe it, but I had to be honest with myself; since Reggie got married I did feel lonely sometimes, but the way to deal with it was certainly not to fall in love with a fellow cast member.

I told Dale about the incident; at least I didn’t have any romantic problems with him, we were genuinely 'just good friends'. A couple of weeks later, when Richard again suggested a Sunday drive and lunch I was able to say quite truthfully that Dale and I were going out and he was most welcome to come along if he liked, but he declined the offer. That made me think that perhaps Stella had been right and I was too dumb to see it.

I had my interview with the executive at ISC and also Paul, at which I confirmed my interest in going on the overseas tour.

“We're very glad to hear that,” said Malcolm. “Paul has been discussing it with us. Of course we would want you to play Juliet, but you also played Viola/Cesario in 'Twelfth Night', so our suggestion is that you play that rôle in all the performances and play Juliet in one in three performances. That way you won't get over-tired. Jemma will also join the troupe, and she's agreed to understudy you for Viola as well. As you know, she has quite a phenomenal memory as well, almost as good as yours, so she will be a great asset to the tour.

“We've managed to get almost all the original cast of 'Twelfth Night', but Leon has decided against making the trip. To be honest with you, he isn't very well, and a tour like we have arranged would be very tiring. We are looking for another actor to play Friar Lawrence, and I'm sure we will find one soon. Geraldine has decided that she is up to it, so that means there is only one cast member to replace.

“We're giving you all a few weeks off over Christmas, and assembling back here during the second week of January to start getting ready for the tour. In the meantime, if you don't have a passport, please apply for one as soon as possible.”

When I left the interview room, it suddenly occurred to me that if all the original cast of 'Twelfth Night' were touring, that must mean that Scarlett would be coming too. Thinking back to the last time I saw her, I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

Three weeks later I drove up to Bridchester very early on Sunday morning to be godmother to Elizabeth. For the occasion I had bought a very pretty champagne-colour tea-length chiffon dress with a ruched Empire waist. I was a little concerned it might be too 'dressy' for the occasion, but a phone call to Emma set my mind at ease. She had bought a new dress as well, and so had Mum!

I drove to Mum's house and we had a light lunch before I went up to my room to get changed. In addition to the new dress and matching shoes of course, I wore the gorgeous earrings that Emma and David had bought me as a gift when I was a bridesmaid at their wedding.

When I came down the stairs to the lounge room where Mum was waiting, the look on her face was something to behold. “Oh darling, I've promised myself I won't cry today, but you look so beautiful,” she said in a tearful voice.

“Oh Mum,” I said as I hugged her. “Don't you start, or I'll start crying too and then I'll have to do my make-up all over again.”

We arrived at Mum's church at two o'clock, and I was pleased to see it was the Rev. James Sutton, the same vicar who had asked me to make recordings of bible readings for his older parishioners some time back. He remembered me and asked how my career was going, and seemed genuinely interested in the progress I had made.

Elizabeth was also to have a godfather who was David's brother Michael, so we sat together. Quite a few of Emma and David's friends had turned up, including some of the Apollo Players.

I had done some investigating about what I was getting myself into, taking on the rôle of godmother, and while I'm not a particularly religious person, I hope that I'm a fairly moral one. It seemed that my main promises were to help in bringing up Elizabeth to be a good, kind and compassionate person with Christian values, who would stand up against injustices and help her make the right choices in life. This I felt I could do and so I answered all the questions put to the parents and godparents with a clear conscience.

Elizabeth behaved impeccably throughout the service and didn't even cry when the baptismal water from the eighteenth century font (warmed for the occasion as I found out later) was poured over her head.

Afterwards we made our way to the church hall where the ladies of the parish had once again put on a splendid afternoon tea for us. I found myself sitting next to the minister who seemed keen to know more about my acting career. In some ways this did not surprise me as there is surely more than a little of the actor in every church minister. I half expected him to ask me to make more Bible recordings for him, but the subject didn't come up.

The season of 'Romeo and Juliet' came to an end in mid-December, after being extended for two weeks. Right to the end we were playing to packed houses. Of course it wasn't really the end of 'Romeo and Juliet' due to the upcoming tour, but we still had an 'end of season' get-together for the cast in one of the rehearsal rooms following the final performance at Stratford. Paul announced that he had secured the services of Sir John McKenna to play 'Friar Lawrence' during the tour. I was pleased to hear that, as I had played opposite him in 'Hamlet' when he had performed 'Polonius' so brilliantly. Many other members of the cast knew him too, so there was applause and cheers at the announcement.

The day after the season concluded, I checked my Hotmail account. There were two messages from Reggie, one from the previous day and one from the previous week. I had started by checking the account daily, but messages from Reggie were not very frequent and so my checking had become less frequent. Now I felt guilty.

The first message read as follows:

'Dear Harriet,
I'm sorry I haven't written before. I have a lot of work at university but that's not an excuse. You probably want to know what is going on and are too polite to ask. Yesterday I went to lectures and S wasn't feeling well so stayed home. Early afternoon I had a phone call from the hospital. She had been taken there by ambulance when she started bleeding. I went in to see her and it seems she lost the baby. She still insists it was mine although I'm sure it wasn't. She said we must try for another one when we can and I had to agree with her since she was so upset. I hope you understand. I'm not sure what she will think when she finds out I am sterile.

I hope this finds you well. The play must have finished by now. We saw in the paper that you are all going on an overseas tour. You must be looking forward to that. Please write soon. Much love, Reggie'

Then I read the second message:

'Dear Harriet, It's been a week since I last wrote and I haven't heard from you. I am sorry if you are upset with me and I can't blame you for that. S is home now but seems to have lost interest in attending lectures. I wonder if she ever was very interested. Please write soon and tell me you are alright.
Much love, Reggie'

I had to sit for a while and think what to write. Poor Reggie, he is such a sweet person and didn't want to upset Sophie, even after what she did to him and us. I have to confess that I tried to get out of my mind the thought of them 'trying for a baby' and what that involved. I couldn't imagine getting that intimate with a man I didn't love, but then I thought of the marriages of royalty and the nobility, often arranged for dynastic or financial reasons and they often resulted in children. Indeed they were meant to, so perhaps men approached these things differently. To give the devil her due, Sophie was a very beautiful woman... At this point I forced myself to stop thinking along these lines and instead concentrate on a reply to Reggie.

Eventually I did write to him as follows:

'Dear Reggie,
I'm sorry for the delay in replying. It's been busy here and I only just saw your first message and the follow-up. Your concern for S does you credit. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose a baby and wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Please remember though that it wasn't your fault.

I am going to Bridchester for a couple of weeks holiday over Christmas. I don't know if you'll be there and if you are with S I know you won't be able to meet up with me.

I didn't tell you about the tour in case you accidentally said something about it and S would wonder how you knew. That was the only reason. Yes the thought of travelling to all those countries is exciting, although we are warned that it will be hard work, performing in unfamiliar surroundings and coping with jet-lag.

When I come back I hope to take a couple of months off for the surgery which I've already put off because of 'R&J'. I hope that something else may be offered at Stratford when I have recovered enough to work.

I hope this finds you well, and I promise to check my mail box more often in future,
Love, Harriet'

I checked it over a couple of times and changed 'I'm sorry' to 'I'm very sorry', and concluded with 'All my love'.

A couple of days later a Christmas card arrived from Sophie and Reggie. She had written it and the message was brief and formal:

'Best wishes for a Very Happy Christmas, from Sophie and Reginald' I wondered why I had made it onto their card list and decided it was Sophie's way of emphasising that they were a couple. I could not help myself – I put it straight in the bin.

A second card was much more welcome since it came from Dame Emily and contained a hand-written note:

'Dear Harriet,

I was delighted to hear from Cassie of your success in Romeo and Juliet, and that you have been engaged to perform two rôles in ISC's overseas tour. I know you will make the most of this invaluable experience. Cassie is looking forward to going too, and I know you will look out for each other.

The next time you are in London please do come round for afternoon tea again. As I recall your last visit was shortened by having to attend your friend's cricket match. I do hope he is keeping well too.

I imagine that you will be visiting your family for Christmas. Please give them my kind regards.

With Best Wishes,

Emily Good'

As you might expect, this card and note were treasured and I still have them.

I also received a very nice card from Frank which included a 'thank you' for getting him the signed programs to add to his collection.

A couple of days later I received the precious referral from Dr McLeish, and I called to pick up the one from Dr Schwarz. I was almost shaking with excitement when I phoned to make an appointment with Mr Edgar Summers, the plastic surgeon.

I was fortunate that he had a cancellation, perhaps the fact that I was going to be a private patient helped, and three days later I took the train to London to see him. The clinic was a very modern building, with large windows and up to date furniture. Even the magazines in the waiting room were current!

If I may dare to paraphrase Jane Austen, 'It is a truth universally acknowledged that the more senior a medical practitioner, the longer you will cool your heels in the waiting room after your appointed consultation time'.

I have to say that the receptionist was very apologetic. Ten minutes after my appointment time she took a telephone call and said: “I'm very sorry but Mr Summers is currently in theatre and the operation is taking longer than he anticipated. He sends his apologies.”

I responded in what I hoped was a magnanimous fashion. “I certainly wouldn't want him to hurry on my account, any more than I would want him to hurry an operation on me if someone else was waiting.”

The receptionist smiled. “You are very understanding; not everyone is.”

I suspected that being a private clinic some of their patients had an inflated idea of their own importance and resented any delay in their crowded schedule.

As I waited, a few more people came in and received the news of the delay with various responses. One even made a new appointment as she said she couldn't wait long.

It was about ninety minutes later when the door finally opened and a tall man, at a guess in his sixties and with grey hair, appeared and looking into the waiting room said “Miss Stow?” I stood up and followed him through the door.

“I'm Edgar Summers,” he said as he led me down a corridor. “I do apologise for keeping you waiting so long.”

“I wouldn't expect you to hurry an operation on my account, any more than I hope you wouldn't hurry while operating on me in the same situation,” I responded once again.

He smiled as he led me into his consulting room and indicated a chair for me to sit upon. He picked up the referral letter I had been given by Dr McLeish and read through it.

“I see Helen says you are a professional actress. I confess I hadn't heard of you until about a month ago. My wife and some friends went to Stratford for the weekend especially to see 'Romeo and Juliet' and apparently you were starring in it,” I think he saw the look on my face because he went on. “Oh, and I should tell you, she doesn't ask and I don't tell about any of my patients. Confidentiality is very important to all of us at this clinic, and as far as I know it's never been breached.”

“Oh I didn't think for a minute...” I started.

He smiled. “We've had some very well known names here and we know how important privacy is, but the same applies to any of our patients. Now I see from the letter you have been receiving hormone therapy and living full-time as a woman for nearly two years. By law I have to tell you that the surgery you are proposing to have is irreversible and you will have to sign a statement to that effect which will be witnessed. Do you understand that?”

“Yes doctor, I am completely convinced in my own mind that I am a woman and I wish to live the rest of my life as one.”

“Very good. Well I have to say that you present as a young woman, and the fact that you perform as one in front of thousands of people every week is another factor in your favour."

He spoke to me for about another ten minutes about my background, when I had first felt the disconnect between my body and mind, how I had felt when I first began to live as a woman and how I would feel if I was unable to have the surgery I requested.

Following my answers he said “Well like Dr McLeish, I am satisfied that surgery is appropriate for you. Two things; bearing in mind this is a private clinic there are costs involved. I can only give you an estimate at this stage as some operations take longer than others.”

Dr Summers went on to give me a quote which is of course out of date now. Up to date amounts can be found with a web search.

“The next step is to give you a physical examination. Are you happy to proceed with that now?”

“Yes I am.”

“Please go to the examination couch and draw the curtains around. You will need to take off all your clothes, then lie on the couch and pull the blanket over you. One of our nurses will accompany me while I examine you.”

I did as he requested. The examination was similar to those I had had before. Dr Summers worked quickly and efficiently, telling me what he was doing and why. Surprisingly for someone who blushes easily, I didn't feel embarrassed at all.

Once the examination was over and I was dressed and sitting in front of his desk once more, he asked me if I had any commitments which would affect when I could have the surgery. I told him about the overseas tour and that I would be back in the first week of April. Surgery as soon as possible after that would be ideal if it could be arranged. He checked his computer screen.

“How does Monday 15th April sound as an admission day?”

“That would be ideal,” I replied.

“You must stop your hormone therapy four weeks before surgery. You're admitted the day before surgery to have blood tests and a pre-operative examination. Surgery takes place the following morning. You will stay at the clinic for five or six days and receive pain management as required. We suggest that you stay a further week in an hotel near to the clinic so that you can attend for follow-up examinations and if you have any concerns. I understand that you are currently living in Stratford but your family is in Bridchester?”

“Yes my mother has invited me to stay with her while I convalesce.”

“That sounds perfect. Do you have any questions at this stage?”

When I said that I didn't, he said “Here is a brochure which should tell you all you need to know, but if you have any questions please do not hesitate to call us.”

And with that my first consultation was over. I paid my account at the reception desk and after a quick look at the shops, took the train back to Stratford.

When I arrived back at Stratford I made an appointment to see the CEO, Duncan Morgan. He had some free time a couple of days later so I called at his office and explained that I was going to have surgery soon after arriving back from the overseas tour and wouldn't be able to act for about six weeks to two months. I didn't need to spell it out, he knew the surgery I was referring to and wished me good luck with it. I told him that I hoped to have the opportunity to perform with ISC again.

“I hope so too, Harriet,” he said. “We have all been very impressed with your progress. You may be aware that we are staging 'Othello' in June next year and my colleagues tell me that they would be happy to add you to a short list auditioning for the part of 'Desdemona'. How do you feel about that?”

To be honest, I was shocked. This is one of the great women's dramatic rôles in Shakespeare, on a par with Juliet in my opinion, and here I was bring told that I had a chance to perform it. Lest Duncan might think that my moments of silence meant I wasn't interested, I hurried to say “I would be very interested Mr Morgan. I know that there will be many actresses vying for the part but I would certainly appreciate the opportunity to audition for it.”

“Good,” he said, smiling. “But one step at a time, first you've got the overseas tour, and if you don't feel sufficiently recovered after your surgery, we will understand. There are always other parts coming up.”

I knew that of course, but this would give me something to aim for in recovering as quickly as I could. My next move was to phone my agent and tell him when I would be unavailable and also about 'Desdemona'. He was as keen as I was that I should try for the rôle.

“It's another important step for you Harriet. If you get it you will be building up quite a C.V. of Shakespearean parts and before long people will be seeking you out to play them.”

I decided to head up to Bridchester the week before Christmas and probably stay around two weeks. It was my first real break for over a year and I was looking forward to relaxing and doing nothing for a while. I told Dale I would be gone for a fortnight and he seemed quite relaxed about the idea. However in the famous words of Robbie Burns 'The best laid plans o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley'.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 29   The Fairy Godmother

The following Monday I had a phone call from my brother-in-law David.

“Hi Harriet, how's it going? I believe you're coming up to Brid soon?”

“Yes David, I'll be there in a couple of days. I'm looking forward to having a rest from acting. Are you having a break too?”

He laughed. “You know what rep theatre is like, we never close. Our production of 'Cinderella' starts on Boxing Day.”

For those readers who are not aware, it's a tradition in British theatre dating back several hundred years to present a pantomime during the Christmas holidays. The Apollo Players at Brid was no exception and as one of the few repertory companies still in existence, they really counted on good ticket sales to subsidise the rest of the year and keep from folding.

There are a number of traditional pantomimes such as 'Aladdin', 'Puss in Boots', 'Jack and the Beanstalk', 'Sleeping Beauty' etc. and 'Cinderella' is one of the most popular. The stories are very simple and are hundreds of years old, but each production is unique, being adapted to include slapstick, topical references, songs, dancing and audience participation. For many people in the audience, this is the only theatrical production they will attend in a year, but they do so quite religiously.

I knew immediately that this wasn't just a social call from David, but I decided to tease him.

“Cinderella one of my favourite pantos. I'll make sure to bring Mum along to a performance,” I said innocently, deliberately putting him on the spot.

“Err, actually there's a reason I'm calling you, and before you get mad, it was your sister's idea,” David said.

“Don't tell me, someone's broken a leg,” I replied.

“Not quite, it's June Whitlow who's playing the Fairy Godmother; she's come down with tonsillitis. She'll probably be alright in a couple of weeks, that's what her doctor says anyway, but in the meantime we really need someone to step into the rôle.”

I laughed. “And I'm the emergency 'go to' girl?” I said.

David was laughing now too. “Something like that.”

“There's just one thing,” I said.

“If it's about the pay, I'm sorry we can't give you what ISC does,” he said. “To be honest, we really can't afford you.”

“No it's not about the money; I don’t want to take a job away from someone who needs it more than I do.”

“Well there's a reason why I'm asking you. The show starts in just over a week, and I really don't have time now to hold auditions and then ask someone to step in just for a couple of weeks. I know you can learn the part in no time and give a good performance. There is one other thing. The Fairy Godmother is older than Cinderella of course. That's not a problem for June as she's in her thirties, but you will have to be made up to look older than you are; I hope you don't mind?”

“David, I owe you big time. If you hadn't given me my first part I wouldn't be where I am today, so of course I'll help you out. If you'd asked me to be one of the Ugly Sisters I might have had misgivings, but I certainly don't mind looking like an older woman if she's the Fairy Godmother. As for money, just pay me the going rate for cast members. I'll speak to my agent Richard and explain things to him. All I ask is that you don't tell anyone what you're paying me, alright?”

“It's a deal, and thank you Harriet, I won't forget this,” David said, the relief in his voice very obvious.

“I'll drive to Brid tomorrow and see you at the theatre. Can you have a copy of the script ready for me please?”

After we finished speaking, I rang Mum and told her about David's call and that I would be coming up to Brid the following day if it wasn't inconvenient.

“Of course not darling, I'll be happy to see you. I'm so glad you're helping David out. He was quite worried about ringing you; he knows how hard you've been working,” said Mum. I should have realised that she'd know all about it.

“I worked that out, he blamed Emma for the call,” I said. “I was never going to say 'no', he gave me my first break, remember?”

Mum laughed. “I do indeed, and look how far you've come in such a short time.”

My next move was to write an email to Reggie:

'Dear Reggie,
It seems I won't be having a holiday in Brid after all. David just rang and asked if I could fill in as Fairy Godmother in the Apollo pantomime 'Cinderella' that starts on Boxing Day. The lady they cast has tonsillitis and he doesn't have time to find someone else. It's only until she recovers, so will be a week or two at most. It will be fun to do, since I've never done pantomime before. It's only a small part and I won't have to work too hard.
All my love, Harriet.'

Reggie was smart enough to read between the lines that I was telling him not to suggest going to the show since Sophie would think he was doing it to see me. On the other hand if she suggested it and then found out I was in the show, Reggie could plead ignorance.

I decided not to take my computer to Brid, but instead would ask Emma if I could use theirs to check if Reggie replied.

The following day I packed the car and drove to Bridchester, arriving at lunch time. Mum welcomed me as she always did, told me I was too thin which was another regular comment, and promised to feed me up. After a light lunch I drove down to the theatre. As I walked towards the stage door past one of the big framed posters, I saw that there had been an addition pasted at the bottom. It read:

'Special guest star Harriet Stow as the Fairy Godmother.
Harriet recently starred in the Imperial Shakespeare Company production of 'Romeo and Juliet'.'

Two 'stars' in one announcement. Someone hadn't wasted any time and I hadn't even had a rehearsal yet! I had better not let them down.

I opened the stage door and there was old Jim in his cramped little office, just as he'd always been.

“Why Miss Harriet, it's so good to see you!” he exclaimed, beaming.

“It's good to see you Jim, how have things been?”

“Well, we're still here although sometimes I wonder how we do it,” he said. “I hear you're helping us out again, just like you did before.”

I smiled “And happy to do so Jim. It will be like old times. Is David holding a rehearsal at present?”

“Yes, and he won't forgive me for holding you up. I'm guessing you can still find your way?”

“I think so Jim, and it's really great to see you again.”

I really meant it; Jim is one of those unsung heroes who helps keep provincial theatre alive.

I made my way quietly into the auditorium. David was on-stage and taking some of the cast through their lines. I stood and watched until they took a break, and then I walked down the side aisle towards the stage. David saw me and waved.

“Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who don't know her, this is my sister-in-law Harriet Stow. Harriet has just driven up from Stratford where she's been starring in an obscure little play called 'Romeo and Juliet'. She's kindly agreed to help us out by playing the Fairy Godmother in our pantomime for a couple of weeks until June recovers. Come up and meet the cast, Harriet.”

Somewhat to my embarrassment everyone present started to applaud.

“Thank you everyone. It's really great to be here,” I responded. “This is my first pantomime and I'm really looking forward to working with you. I hope you'll be kind to a beginner.” That produced a laugh of course.

David stepped forward as I climbed the steps up onto the stage, and taking my hand introduced me to the cast members. Some I knew from the time when I had worked with Apollo, which now seemed so long ago, others were new to me.

“This is Joyce Greenvale who is the Principal Boy and playing 'Prince Charming',” he said, introducing me to a tall and strikingly handsome young woman, “and here are the Ugly Sisters, Jeff and Colin Anderson.”

There is a tradition of cross-dressing in pantomime. The Principal Boy is played by a young woman, and characters like the Ugly Sisters or an older woman described as the 'Dame' are played by men. There is no attempt to disguise the real gender of the performers, in fact the Principal Boy usually wears a short costume which reveals her legs clad in fishnet tights and boots.

David introduced me to everyone on the stage and then said “Thanks very much for coming so quickly. I've got a copy of the script for you. Now I don't want to rush you, but can you go down and see Aunty for a costume fitting?”

Just then I caught sight of Mary as she stepped out of the wings and she saw me at the same moment. I rushed forward and we had a big hug.

“So who are you playing?” I asked.

“Cinderella!” she exclaimed. “Didn't David tell you?”

“No he didn't, he was too concerned with persuading me to help out as the Fairy Godmother, not that I needed much persuading,” I said. “This is great, my big scene will be with you.”

Mary was called for a rehearsal then, so I headed down to see 'Aunty' Arthur the wardrobe mistress, who had been at Apollo as long as anyone could remember. When I knocked on her door and entered, she was bent over one of her big sewing machines and looked up to stare blankly at me for a few seconds. Then a huge smile spread over her face as she stood up.

“Harriet! For a moment I didn't recognise you. My goodness, you've become quite the young lady!” she exclaimed.

“Aunty, it's so good to see you again,” I said as we had a big hug.

“I never expected to be fitting you for another costume, and then David told me you're going to help us out again.”

“There's a real sense of déjà vu about this isn't there?” I said. “My very first rôle happened right here because Mary had appendicitis, and now I'm back again because June's got tonsillitis. I was really supposed to be having a holiday, but I think this will be more fun.”

She laughed. “Everyone's so proud of what you've achieved in such a short time. David keeps us up to date, so we heard about 'Juliet', and now you're going around the world with ISC, that's amazing. Anyway, I mustn't keep chattering, you're here for a costume fitting. Do you mind slipping off your dress and I'll take your measurements. I suspect they've changed a bit since last time.”

I did as she asked and as I stood there in my silk slip she said “Now that's something you don't see very often nowadays.”

“The slip you mean? Well they do help a dress hang better. I'm surprised more women don't wear them, but then you don't see women in dresses so much any more unless it's a special occasion.”

“I totally agree with you my dear, but times have changed. So many young women nowadays dress like they are lorry drivers.”

“Well, you'll never see me do that, especially now I'm a member of ISC. There's standards to be kept up you know!” I said with a laugh.

As Aunty measured my bust I couldn't help remarking “All real this time, Aunty,” which was cause for more amusement.

“And very nice they are too,” said Aunty.

When she measured my waist she said “You won't believe it but there was a time when my waist wasn't much bigger than yours.”

Finally she checked my hips which had increased considerably since the first time she had measured them.

“It's all due to the hormones,” I explained. “My body seems to have reacted more significantly than a lot of other trans women, so I've been lucky there.”

“Well I just see a very beautiful young woman,” replied Aunty. She walked over to a rack and took down a very pretty long dress in electric blue with a flared skirt and tulle overlay – very 'fairy princess' in style.

“This is one of the two dresses I made for June. You are both about the same bust size, but your waist and hips are slightly smaller. If you try it on, I should be able to take it in a bit and then let it out when she comes back. There's so little time, if we can get it to fit that will save me a lot of work.”

She helped me into the dress and looked at it critically. “Yes, I think I can do that.” She took up a handful of pins and started using them to make adjustments, stepping back every so often to view her work. Finally she pronounced herself satisfied and helped me to remove the dress without sticking any of the pins into me.

“I'll have it ready by tomorrow if you can come back for a final fitting,” she said.

I couldn't help thinking once again what a treasure she was for the company, and yet there are so many essential people behind the scenes in a theatre who never get the acknowledgement they deserve, while we actors get a disproportionate share of it.

I walked back up to the stalls with the script while the rehearsal went on. David was right, it was quite a small script and very easy to learn after Shakespeare. That didn't mean that I wasn't going to take it seriously. The Fairy Godmother is a small part but an important one, and unlike some of the characters is played straight and without improvising. With so little time to prepare that was an advantage.

With the rehearsal over, David came down off the stage to see me.

“Emma has invited you and your mum to dinner this evening. Can you come? It will give us more time to discuss the rôle.”

“Thank you, I'd like that,” I said. “There's one thing I wanted to discuss with you. I notice that my name has been added to the billboards outside. It's very flattering but I wonder if it's a good idea?”

“Anything that gets more bums on seats is a good idea,” he responded.

“But supposing someone from the local paper sees it and remembers little Harry Stow who enjoyed performing girls' parts in school plays, then puts two and two together and comes up with five? You might get publicity you don't want.”

“That won't happen,” he responded. “I don't know if you remember Rupert Morley at school? He was a year or two ahead of you. Well he's the editor now, a good friend of mine and one of our greatest supporters. Nothing detrimental like that will appear in the local paper. That doesn't mean he wouldn't print a bad review if we deserved it, but that hasn't happened to date.”

That evening we had a lovely family dinner. Of course with two actresses and a director we 'talked shop' as you do, but Mum didn't seem to mind; she was quite used to it by now, and sat there happily playing with Elizabeth who was teething and getting a bit fractious. We particularly concentrated on my scene with Cinderella which of course has some magical effects including changing a pumpkin into a coach, and Cinderella's costume changing from that of a serving girl into a glittering ball gown.

“Have you had a look at the script yet?” said David. “How long do you think you'll need to memorise it?”

“Not long,” I replied. “At least it's in modern English and it's just a dialogue between me and Cinderella. I'll run through it again tonight and I'm sure I'll be ready by tomorrow.”

“That's good,” said David. “We'll rehearse your scene in the morning as we're due to have a full dress rehearsal in the afternoon.

When memorising a script, it's necessary not only to know your own lines but most of those spoken by other people in the scene of course, especially those that give you your cues. I didn't like to say that I had already memorised the script as it sounded like boasting, but I suspect David knew that I had.

“How about the special effects?” I asked.

“Well the coach which is quite narrow will already be at the rear of the stage behind one of two identical backdrops. You ask Cinderella for a pumpkin which will be papier-mâché as a real one would be far too heavy. There'll also be some field mice, model ones of course, which she's caught and put in a little cage in order to release later, being the kind-hearted person that she is. These will become the horses and coachmen. They are all placed on the kitchen table which has a table cloth reaching to the ground to hide a props guy behind it.

The moment that you wave your magic wand, we will set off a flash pot at the front of the stage which generates a bang and some smoke to obscure the audience's view, plus give them a bit of a shock. The props guy sweeps the pumpkin and mouse cage off the table into a basket, the backdrop falls to the stage and is pulled off into the wings and 'bingo!' as soon as the smoke clears there is the coach shaped like a pumpkin! One important thing is that you must both be ten feet from the flash pot or we can't activate it for safety reasons. We have a designated pyrotechnics guy and he has strict instructions about that.”

“Well that sounds exciting,” I said. “And what about Cinderella's ball gown? Does she go off-stage for a quick change?”

“Ah, now that is the pièce de résistance. Aunty has made us a 'transformation gown'. Have you heard of those before? The material of the ball gown is very light, and it is tucked inside Cinderella's serving girl costume. When you weave the magic spell, she will be facing away from the audience and it's your job to distract their attention from her, a bit like a conjurer. She loosens some ties on her costume and then spins around. Part of her costume turns inside-out, and the skirt of the ball gown falls down, covering the rest. Here, let me show you; I recorded it on my mobile phone.”

He held up his phone for me to see the little screen and what an amazing effect it was. As Mary spun around her costume changed from a dowdy brown work dress into a glittering pale blue ball gown in a matter of seconds.

“Wow! That's really going to thrill the audience,” I said.

“Well, we certainly hope so,” David said with a smile. “We want to show people that we can create magic too, just like in the Disney animation film. The final touch is Cinderella's glass slippers, which aren't really glass of course but a clear synthetic material. They really do look quite convincing.”

“My goodness, you've gone to a lot of trouble,” I said. “The little girls in particular are going to love the show.”

“And they'll all be pestering their parents for Cinderella ball gowns. It's just as well we start the season when they've already been given their Christmas presents or we'd be really unpopular!' laughed David.

The following morning I arrived early at the theatre ready to rehearse my scene with Mary. David started by blocking our moves on the stage and then described the part of the scene before my entrance. Then we had a practice run.

We rehearsed from the point where the wicked stepmother and the ugly sisters had left for the ball, leaving poor Cinders sitting by the fireplace and quietly weeping. The stage lights were dimmed, and I entered stage right (that's left from the audience's point of view, and is the traditional entrance side for the good characters), and was immediately illuminated in my very own spotlight for more effect. Now that's something you don't get playing Shakespeare!

I crossed over to Cinderella who of course didn't notice my entrance, and said “My child, why are you weeping so?”

She looked up startled and said in a tremulous voice “Alas, all the family has been invited to the palace for a ball held in honour of the Prince's birthday, but my stepmother has refused me permission to go. Instead she's taking my step-sisters.” Then she gasped, stood up and said, “I'm sorry madam, I didn't hear you come in. In fact how did you come in? I thought all the doors and windows were locked. May I ask who you are?”

“I am your Fairy Godmother, child, and locked doors and windows are not a problem when you have a magic wand.” Then holding my hand beside my mouth and speaking as an aside to the audience I said “In fact I have to be very careful not to wave my magic wand around when I pass a bank. (Pause for laughter) Now I have some very good news to tell you. You were invited and you shall go to the ball.”

Not exactly Shakespeare I grant you, but it served the purpose and with a bit of luck the audience might even laugh at the rather weak joke. From there I asked Cinderella for the pumpkin and mice and we ran through that part without actually doing the switch; the dress change was mimed and I handed her into the coach which was at the rear of the stage, warning her to leave the ball by midnight. For that first run through the coach wasn't drawn off the stage, although I stood there waving my wand as though it was departing into the distance.

David seemed satisfied and just made a few suggestions about our movements, emphasising again where we should be when the flash pot would be discharged which of course was absolutely crucial to the coach transformation. We ran through it once more, and then took a break while I went down to see Aunty for a final costume fitting.

Down in Wardrobe Aunty had the dress ready and when I tried it on she looked critically at it and me and pronounced herself satisfied.

“Have a look at yourself in the mirror,” she said. “What do you think?”

“I think the person who works magic around here is you,” I replied

Laughing she said “Props have given me your magic wand,” handing it to me. “There's a battery in the handle that lights up the star at the end. Do a few waves with it so that I can see how the dress looks when you move.”

I obliged her with some 'spell-casting' moves and she was happy with the result. After that I took off the dress with Aunty's help, put my own dress back on and went back to the auditorium to watch the rest of the rehearsal take place. When it was over, David called all the cast members onto the stage.

“Right everyone,” he said, “we'll break for an early lunch now and afterwards we'll get ready for a full dress rehearsal this afternoon, starting at two o'clock.”

We all went to a local café for lunch and a chat. One of the things I love about acting is that being part of a cast is like becoming part of a large family. Inevitably there were plenty of enquiries about what I had been doing, but no-one seemed jealous of my good fortune. Once we had finished eating we headed back to the theatre to get ready for the dress rehearsal.

As we arrived, I could hear the orchestra tuning up. Previously the singers had been accompanied by a pianist but now we would have the full ensemble. I walked down to the front of the stalls and looked in the orchestra pit to see how it was made up. The instruments consisted of a piano, bass, guitar and drums, three violins, a trumpet, trombone and saxophone. Just as I arrived, Freddie the conductor started taking them through the score. For a relative small group they made a great sound.

The dressing rooms at the Palace Theatre are not very big, and the pantomime cast is probably the largest one of the year, so to give them space I sat in the stalls until the cast who were on-stage first had finshed dressing. To my surprise I saw my sister Emma arrive, together with baby Elizabeth and Mum. They saw me and came down to chat.

“David said I could come to the dress rehearsal since I could bring Elizabeth along. I'll take her out if she cries, but she's normally very good. I phoned Mum and asked her if she'd like to come along as well. I know you were going to bring her to a performance, but that was before you became part of the cast,” Emma explained.

“Well don't forget there'll be a bit of a bang when they let off the flash pot in my scene,” I smiled. “Anyway I see they're lowering the curtain so they must be getting ready to start, and I'd better go down to dress.”

I heard the orchestra start the overture as I made my way down to the dressing room I had been assigned. The make-up girl and hairdresser were there, and one of Aunty's assistants was also present to help me dress. Once I was ready there was nothing to do but wait until I was called to the stage, so I went up and stood in the wings to watch the performance. It all went very well, and I knew it would be even better when there was an audience to interact with. Everyone was now in costume, and I must say that some of the costumes and make-up like those of the Ugly Sisters were positively grotesque, but that all adds to the fun.

Then came my scene with Mary and it seemed to go very well indeed. I couldn't tell from the stage of course, but I was assured later that the magical transformation of the pumpkin and mice into the coach and horses went faultlessly. Despite the bang of the flash pot, I didn't hear any crying from the stalls, so it seemed baby Elizabeth had taken it in her stride. For the first time I witnessed the transformation of Cinderella's costume into the ball gown at close quarters and it looked very impressive.

The scene ended with me helping Cinderella into the coach which then moved off-stage, drawn by four young actors from a local school, wearing horses' head masks. I waved them goodbye and the curtain came down. After that I had nothing further to do until the final scene where Prince Charming presents Cinderella to his parents as his bride to be, and I appeared in the background smiling and waving my magic wand, apparently unseen by everyone except Cinderella who smiles back at me. Then the final curtain came down.

We practised the curtain calls to generous applause from the few people present, and waited on stage for David's comments. He seemed very pleased with the way it had gone and only had a few minor points that needed adjustment.

There is an old theatrical tradition that says if you have a really bad dress rehearsal, then the opening night performance will be great, and vice versa. I don't know that I really believe this. I suspect it is a story invented by a director who had a really bad dress rehearsal and wanted to boost the cast's confidence. Now it's become part of theatrical folklore. Anyway, there was to be a second dress rehearsal the next day, so there was still time for things to go wrong!

Once I had changed I went up to the stalls where Mum was waiting and we drove home.

To be continued

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 30   Christmas on stage

It had always been a tradition that Mum hosted the family on Christmas Day and with only a couple of days to go she was busy preparing the food for Christmas lunch. As a young boy I had done little to help, but now as a grown-up young lady I felt the need to contribute a lot more, especially as Mum was that much older. At the same time I didn't want to give the impression that I thought she wasn't totally in control.

We had a large plastic box which lived in the cupboard under the stairs for most of the year, and which was brought out the week before Christmas to reveal tinsel, coloured lights and tree decorations. The plastic tree that had been in use for many years was starting to look its age, so Mum agreed to my suggestion that I drive into Brid and find us a new one. I took the opportunity to get more coloured lights, a Christmas wreath for the door and also some champagne and other drinks for Christmas dinner.

By the time I came back, Mum had discovered that she needed more things and had made a list, so I suggested we both go back to the shops and stock up. As we shopped it became clear to me that Mum was used to living on a strict budget and several times when I suggested things to buy she said “Oh we can't afford that.”

Finally over a cup of tea in a local café, I spoke to her gently about her financial situation.

“Mum, I'm getting quite well paid now. I'm not going to be stupid with my money as I know there may be times when work dries up and of course my treatment is going to cost quite a bit, but I would like us all to have a really nice Christmas. I would also like to repay you and through you Dad for all the money you spent on me while I was growing up. I'm sure he'd like me to do that so I would like to send you some money each month; not enough to affect your pension, but just to help out with living expenses. Will you let me do that please?”

To my surprise, Mum pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “You're a good girl Harriet, and so is Emma. I don't know what I've done to deserve such wonderful daughters.”

I smiled at her. “Well I do. You and Dad were the best parents anyone could hope to have. I don't know about us being 'wonderful' but I like to think that you've brought us up well. Now how about we buy just a few of those things you said we can't afford?”

Mum managed a smile. “Alright, if you say so,” she said.

The following day was the twenty-third of December and the second dress rehearsal was to take place. We were to have Christmas Day off of course and then Boxing Day* was the opening night of 'Cinderella,' which we were pleased to hear was already sold out.

We started the rehearsal and everything was going well until my scene with Cinderella, and when it came to the point where the flash-pot was supposed to ignite to mask the pumpkin transforming into the coach, nothing happened!

I looked into the wings where the pyrotechnic guy was standing, pressing a button on a box in his hand and looking puzzled. I had two options – stop the rehearsal while we sorted out what was wrong, or carry on, which I'd have to do if it was a performance. I chose the latter, although I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing. Fortunately there was enough room on the stage to move in front of the table while keeping well clear of the flash-pot just in case it discharged late, although I hope the pyro guy had the good sense to stop pushing that button.

Waving my magic wand around I was able to mask the props guy sweeping the pumpkin and cage off the table. The backdrop fell revealing the coach and we carried on to the end of the scene. It wasn't ideal, but at least we didn't hold up the show.

Later David came up to me and said “That was quick thinking on your part Harriet and it didn't look too bad from the audience's point of view.”

“Do we know what happened with the flash-pot?” I said.

“Would you believe the pyro guy forgot to change it over for a new one? His ears are still burning after what I had to say to him.”

I'd never seen David lose his temper, but whatever he said certainly did have the desired effect as all the time I performed in the show, there was never a repeat of that incident. One hiccup could hardly be considered a bad dress rehearsal, but inevitably someone trotted out the old superstition about 'bad dress rehearsal, good show', and if it encouraged the cast and crew, who was I to say it was a fallacy?

That evening Mum and I watched “Carols from King's” the service of 'Nine Lessons and Carols' from King's College Cambridge on the television. It was an annual ritual and for us it meant that Christmas had really started

Mum and I were up early on Christmas morning. We exchanged greetings but not presents as those would be brought out when everyone was present at lunch time. Unlike me, Mum was a regular church-goer and when she invited me to come along to the morning service I could hardly say 'no'. I know there are a lot of nominal Christians who tend to limit their church attendance to Christmas and Easter, and I suppose I'm one of them.

I put on a really nice outfit, a pretty dress, stockings and heels, I also wore a coat since it was a bit chilly. All this met with Mum's approval, but then she surprised me by asking if I'd like to wear a hat? I know that wearing a hat to church was a tradition women followed for many years, deriving from an instruction in the Bible, but I had heard that the practice had almost ceased. Mum went to her room and produced a lovely hat with a broad rim that matched my dress which was a pale lemon colour.

“I bought this a while ago and don't think it really suits me, but I thought of it when I saw the dress you're wearing,” she said. I have to say that it really did complement the dress, so I was happy to wear it. Mum produced her own hat, and knowing that many of the congregation were older women, I suspected that we wouldn't be the only ones to do so on the day.

When we arrived at the church, the Rev James Sutton, the minister, was waiting in the vestibule to greet members of the congregation as they arrived. I suspected that he was hoping for a 'full house' on this, the most popular day of the year.

“Hello Mrs Stow, hello Harriet, Merry Christmas,” he said. I suppose I should not have been surprised at what happened next. Drawing me to one side he said “Harriet, I've been hearing great things about your acting in Stratford from a couple of ladies in the congregation who attended a performance of 'Romeo and Juliet'. I don't suppose you'd be willing to read the First Lesson today? The lady who was to have read it is not well, and I like to have members of the congregation take part in the service. It's Luke 2, verses eight to sixteen. I expect you are familiar with them.”

His confidence in me was such that I could hardly refuse, and in fact I was rather flattered to be asked so of course I agreed. I decided not to disappoint him by confessing that I wasn't familiar at all with the Bible reference he mentioned.

“I'll make sure that the Bible is on the lectern and open at the right place. Do you mind sitting on the front pew at the left-hand side so you don't have to walk far?” he said.

Again I agreed, and as more members of the congregation were arriving, I told Mum what was happening as we entered the church. She seemed very pleased that I had been asked to do a reading.

The service started soon afterwards with prayers and hymns. It was a lovely atmosphere and the time soon arrived for my contribution.

“The first Lesson was to have been read by Mrs Amy Preston but unfortunately she is indisposed, so we have been fortunate in securing the services of Miss Harriet Stow, Elizabeth Stow's daughter, who has recently been performing in the theatre in Stratford,” said the Rev Sutton, much to my embarrassment as I had really hoped he would dispense with an introduction.

I stood up and walked to the lectern, my heels clicking loudly on the stone floor. It's strange that I felt a little nervous, even though the size of the congregation was much smaller than the audiences to which I had recently been performing. Perhaps it was because I was being 'me' rather than pretending to be a character in a play.

I stood before the lectern and was pleased to see that it was the King James Version, as all the poetry has been taken out of the modern translations. I also realised that I was familiar with the verses I was to read:

'And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph and the babe lying in a manger.'

There was silence as I finished, and I half expected the congregation to clap as I walked back to my seat, since I had put as much expression into the words as I could, but of course this was a church and such things don't happen.

When I sat down, Mum leaned towards me and whispered “Beautifully read, darling”, and that was better than any applause.

At the conclusion of the service, as we walked out of the church I was thanked again by the Rev Sutton who took the opportunity to ask if I could record some more Bible passages for members of the congregation. The man was a past master at ambushes!

Two elderly ladies were also waiting to speak to me outside the church.

“Miss Stow, I'm Harriet Gainsborough and this is my sister Mabel. We saw you perform Juliet in Stratford recently and it was the highlight of our visit; you were wonderful,” she said. “I was reminded of it when you read the Lesson; you made the words come alive. Now I hear you are touring overseas with the show.”

“Thank you so much,” I replied. “Yes it will be very exciting to travel abroad to perform. It will be my first overseas trip.”

“You must be so proud of your daughter,” Mabel said addressing Mum.

“I'm proud of both my daughters,” said Mum. “Emma will be returning to the stage soon, but she recently made me a grandmother for the first time.”

“That's wonderful,” they said in unison. “Do please pass on our congratulations to her,” said Mabel.

As we walked back to the car, Mum said “I'm pleased to see that all these compliments aren't giving you a swelled head. You seem to handle them very well.”

“I'm only as good as my last performance, Mum. I'll try never to forget that,” I replied.

Christmas lunch at Mum's house was a wonderful occasion. I confess thinking at one point that if Reggie had been there it would have been perfect, but we can't have everything we want in this world. I'm sure Mum was thinking along similar lines, wishing that Dad was with us. He always loved Christmas, and the first one after he died was very hard for all of us. We still celebrated it of course because we knew he would want us to, but there were very few smiles that year.

Fortunately time heals the hurt, and now we were able to talk about him and the things that he did, like the time he tried to assemble a bike for Emma on Christmas Eve. He just wasn't mechanically inclined and eventually after several frustrating hours in the garage a kind neighbour did most of the work for him so that Emma wouldn't be disappointed on Christmas morning. It was many years before we were told about that incident.

After lunch we exchanged presents. I expected to receive a clothes or lingerie voucher from a local shop, so you can imagine my surprise when I received from Emma, David, Penelope and baby Elizabeth a present which from its wrapping and weight was obviously a book.

I carefully unwrapped it as we always do, and to my surprise and delight it was 'The First Folio of Shakespeare: The Norton Facsimile', a wonderful reproduction taken from the best copies available of each page of the original.

Then Mum handed over her present and again it was obviously a book. When I unwrapped the parcel it turned out to be the two volumes of Professor Alexander Schmidt's 'Shakespeare Lexicon and Quotation Dictionary'.

“Thank you so much. These are wonderful presents and such a surprise,” I said as I went around and bestowed kisses on the cheeks of everyone present. “I didn't realise it was so obvious that I'm a Shakespeare obsessive.”

“You hide it very well, but we did manage to guess,” said David, and everyone laughed, including me.

In the early evening we watched the 'Queen's Speech', had a light supper of cold turkey, ham and salad and played a game of Monopoly, another family tradition. I knew that David and Emma would not want to stay too late as Penny had to go to bed, and anyway, Boxing Day would be the opening night of 'Cinderella', so we all needed to be rested.

When they had left I said to Mum “That was the best Christmas we've had in many years, don't you think?”

“Yes darling. You don't need to spare my feelings; you mean the best one since Dad died. I like to think he's up there looking down at us and smiling,” she said, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

I gave her a big hug and said “I'm sure he's doing that too. Goodnight Mum.”

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

* Boxing Day is the day following Christmas Day and in the U.K. and Commonwealth countries was traditionally the day that servants and tradesman received a gift called a 'Christmas box' from their masters, employers or customers. This custom has largely died out. It is often a public holiday and is now often noted as a day when stores hold sales of discounted goods.

---

Chapter 31   Treading the boards

Boxing Day was fairly quiet for Mum and I. Our lunch consisted of 'left-overs' from the previous day, which doesn't mean that they weren't very tasty indeed. We both had a 'siesta' in the afternoon, Mum because she was tired after all the Christmas preparations of the previous days, and me because I needed to be bright and rested before 'Cinderella' in the evening. Mum had decided that she would like to see the show with an audience and I was lucky enough to get a single ticket for her. I offered to pay for a taxi to take her to the theatre, but she said she didn't mind waiting a couple of hours for the show to begin and would even take her knitting along, so in the end I drove her to the theatre.

We arrived there at six o'clock and I left Mum, a solitary figure sitting in the stalls while I went down to my dressing room. The whole place was buzzing with that extra sense of excitement that always occurs on an opening night. I sat in a corner while the other girls had their hair and makeup done and then put on their costumes.

In the meantime, a voice over the loudspeaker in the corner of the room had announced the half hour to curtain up, then the quarter hour, five minutes and finally 'Overture and beginners please', at which time the other girls left the dressing room to the usual comment of 'Break a leg' from me and the dressing staff. I wasn't required until about forty-five minutes after the show started, so now it was my turn to have my hair and makeup done and to step into my costume.

Once I was ready, I walked up to the auditorium and stood in the wings to watch. Pantomime, probably more than any other theatrical performance needs an audience. The 'fourth wall' at the front of the stage is broken more often than in other types of play, and there is constant banter between the cast and the audience, in fact it is positively encouraged. The audience often offers advice ('Look behind you' etc) which is always deliberately misunderstood by the cast member until the very last second.

If there was any danger of me feeling superior because of my Stratford experience it would have been quickly scotched by watching the players in action. Jeff and Colin, the Ugly Sisters were excellent; so quick-witted they had the audience roaring with laughter. Watching them in subsequent performances, I noticed that while they more or less stuck to the script, they constantly improvised, and bounced off each other, probably due to their long experience of working together. I knew it was something I could never do, and realised that it was only because my part required me to stick to the script that David had asked me to step in.

My scene with Cinderella went very well, the audience even laughed at my solitary joke about not waving my magic wand near banks. The appearance of Cinderella's coach in a puff of smoke impressed them, but when I drew circles in the air with my 'magic wand', and Cinderella spun around, her costume changing to a glittering ball gown right there on the stage, there were gasps of amazement and then cheering. I'm sure some of the younger members of the audience thought they really had witnessed magic!

At Interval, as everyone in the cast grabbed a cup of tea and a biscuit to keep up the energy levels, there was a general consensus that things were going well. When the final curtain came down, and the curtain calls began, we were all happy with the way the performance had gone. With my small part, I was one of the first to take my bow, but the applause was generous and very gratifying. Cheers were reserved for the Ugly Sisters, and of course Prince Charming and Cinderella who came on last holding hands and wearing new and even more glittering costumes. The curtain rose and fell about six times before it finally stayed down and the house lights came up.

We waited on-stage for David, and he was smiling as he arrived.

“Well done everybody. That was an excellent performance,” he said. “Now we just have to hope that everyone in the audience tells their friends, although ticket sales are going very well.”

I changed as quick as I could since Mum was waiting for me in the stalls.

“That was a wonderful performance, darling,” she said. “It was even better with an audience.”

The report in the local newspaper a few days later was very gratifying.

”MAGICAL CINDERELLA COMES TO BRIDCHESTER”
'We are fortunate to have one of the few remaining professional repertory companies in Britain, and once again they are presenting an excellent pantomime, 'Cinderella'. Director David Soames has produced a fast-paced witty show with the usual audience participation encouraged as it should be.

'Mary Green is a sweet heroine in the title rôle, and is partnered well by Joyce Greenvale as the handsome Prince Charming. Twins Jeff and Colin Anderson as the Ugly Sisters had the audience in stitches with their witty repartee, the result of many years of experience. Marilyn Edwards as the wicked stepmother was suitable evil, and newcomer Julian Grayson as Buttons, the servant of Baron Hardup (Larry Cleary) evoked sympathy from the audience with his obvious unrequited love of Cinderella. Harriet Stow, an alumna of Apollo and currently performing Shakespeare at Stratford, stepped in at very short notice to play the Fairy Godmother while June Whitlow is indisposed. The whole ensemble performed to a very high standard.

'The singing was excellent, the jokes topical and the special effects, particularly the transformation of Cinderella's workmaid costume into her ball gown (especially made by Wardrobe Mistress Beatrice Arthur) right on stage, were met with gasps and cheers of appreciation from a capacity audience. The season continues until 26th January, with matinées on Saturdays and Wednesdays. Don't miss this excellent production and help keep live theatre in Bridchester.'

The article was accompanied by a picture of Mary in her ball gown and me as the Fairy Godmother waving my magic wand to effect the transformation. Out of all the pictures taken during the dress rehearsal, I really didn't expect them to use that one, especially as my part was so small. However I was glad that Aunty was given the recognition she so richly deserved.

I really enjoyed playing pantomime. It was certainly a contrast from Shakespeare but none the worse for that. Midway through the second week I received a phone call from June Whitlow one afternoon. Her voice still sounded a bit croaky, but she said she was feeling a lot better and invited me to afternoon tea at her house. I wondered if she was concerned that I was intending to perform the whole season, so I decided it was a good idea to meet up with her and allay her fears.

June lived in a nice house on the fringes of Bridchester. She had moved from Manchester about a year previously and so I had not previously met her. When she opened the front door I saw a pleasant-looking woman in her mid-forties who welcomed me in. I had dressed in my tartan skirt with black tights, a white silk blouse and three inch heels. I didn't want to look like a 'star from Stratford' remembering what had been written on the theatre billboards.

After June served tea, sandwiches and cakes she asked me what I thought of playing pantomime.

“I'm enjoying it very much, but I'm only filling in until you are ready to return,” I said. “I don't think I could ad-lib the way so many of the cast do.”

“I can't tell you how relieved I was when David told me he had found someone to take my place. As you know, we don't have understudies, so I was starting to think that I'd have to drag myself onto the stage somehow, but it wouldn't have sounded good, the Fairy Godmother croaking like an old frog!”

We both laughed at that.

“You probably know that David is my brother-in-law, but even so I'd have been happy to help out since I have a few weeks off. Apollo gave me my first professional part on stage and that was when someone was sick too, so this was a pay-back in a way.”

“I heard that you've been playing Juliet at Stratford. That must have been so exciting.”

“Well it's a dream rôle of course, and I was so lucky to get it. Not only that, but we are going on a world tour in about a month, presenting 'Romeo and Juliet' and also 'Twelfth Night'. I have parts in both but I won't be doing all the 'Romeo and Juliet' performances as I'm sharing the rôle with another girl. It will be my first ever overseas trip and I'm so excited.”

“Well from what I hear you thoroughly deserved to get the parts,” she said.

I blushed. “Thank you. I have been very fortunate. I'm sure there are many other actresses who could perform the rôles as well if not better, but I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

Before I left we were firm friends, and she made me promise to tell her when I was next performing and she would do her best to come to see me.

I was just about to leave when we heard a car pull up outside and a minute later a tall very handsome young man with flaming red hair rushed in to the room and kissed June on the cheek.

“Hello Mum, we're just back from Scotland.” He then appeared to notice me for the first time as his mother said “Phillip, this is Harriet Stow. You remember that she took over the Fairy Godmother rôle when I got sick?”

Phillip flashed me a one thousand watt smile “Hello Miss Stow, I'm very pleased to meet you.”

Cursing the blush I could feel rising in my cheeks I said “Call me Harriet please.”

“Thank you so much for standing in for Mum. She was very worried when she knew that she couldn't perform.”

“It was my pleasure,” I responded, “and speaking of which I really have to go to the theatre now to prepare for tonight's performance.”

“Let me see you out,” said Phillip, and after saying goodbye to June I let him escort me to my car.

“I haven't been to a pantomime in years,” said Phillip. “I'll see if I can get a seat in the next couple of days.”

“I'm sure you'll enjoy it,” I replied. “I'm certainly enjoying performing in it, although I hope your Mum is well enough to resume the rôle soon.”

As I drove to the theatre, I couldn't help thinking about Phillip. I could imagine that he had a string of girls lined up waiting for him to take notice of them, so I didn't really expect to see him again.

That evening while on stage I glanced at the audience and there was Reggie and Sophie sitting in the middle of the stalls about three rows back. I gave no indication that I had seen them, and carried on performing. I did wonder what was on Sophie's mind. She seemed to have chosen seats where she knew they were visible from the stage. Was this to say 'I've got him and you haven't'?

What did come as a surprise was that when I left the theatre by the stage door, there was Phillip waiting for me.

“I decided that there's no time like the present so I rang the box office and it turned out that they had a couple of single seats, so here I am. I was wondering if I could express my thanks for a most enjoyable evening by taking you to supper?”

This was a young man who never heard the word 'no' when it came to women, and he didn't hear it then. I was always hungry after a performance, even one as small as 'F.G.' as I'd now taken to calling it.

We walked to a small café close to the theatre which stayed open for theatre patrons. It was rather full, but the waiter found us a table for two near the back, and as we walked towards it I was shocked to see Reggie and Sophie sitting at a table which I would have to pass.

This time I couldn't pretend not to see them, so I paused briefly and said “Hello Sophie, Reggie, I hope you enjoyed the performance.”

“Yes, it was excellent,” said Sophie. “Especially you, but I thought you were in Stratford?”

“I'm just a having a short break before we go on an overseas tour,” I replied. “The local company needed a stand-in when a cast member was sick, so here I am. Oh, by the way, this is Phillip. He's the son of June Whitlow who should be playing the part I'm currently doing.”

“Hello,” said Sophie, smiling archly at Phillip.

'You tramp,' I thought.'You can't keep your eyes off anything in trousers.'

“Well we mustn't keep you from your supper. Nice to see you again,” I said, and followed the waiter who was standing there patiently while this exchange was going on.

“Who were they?” said Phillip when we were seated at our table. I decided that the more of the truth I could say, the better.

“I've known Reggie for years. He comes from Bridchester too. We went out a few times when I was acting in London, but recently he met up with and married Sophie.”

Phillip looked at me closely “Something tells me you weren't too happy about that?”

I shrugged. “Well I'm an actress and we live rather a gypsy life. I'm not ready to settle down yet and obviously he was.”

“So what does he do?” asked Phillip.

“He's studying Economics at York University. That's where he met Sophie.”

“Fancy that. I'm at York too, but I'm studying History. I had a feeling that I'd seen Sophie somewhere before. She's not easy to forget.”

'What a shame she didn't get her claws into you first,' I thought and then decided that was unkind.

“Now that I've met Reggie I'll probably run into him there. Does he play sport?” said Phillip.

“Yes, he's a very good cricketer and footballer,” I replied.

“Well I probably will run into him. I'm a member of the Uni cricket team. We're always checking out the college teams for likely talent. Which college is he in?”

“Derwent,” I replied. I wasn't too sure that I was happy the way this had all turned out. Sophie might have felt happy to see me with yet another man, but what had Reggie thought when he saw me with Phillip? Did he now think that the love I sent him in emails was not genuine? I decided to send him an email as soon as possible and set matters straight.

I was seated facing the rear of the restaurant so I didn't see Reggie and Sophie leave, but they were gone by the time we left. Phillip was good company and we chatted amiably as we ate supper.

“I'm guessing you have Sundays off, so would you like to go for a drive in the country and have lunch?” said Phillip.

'Oh dear, I'd better handle this carefully, I don't want to bruise a sensitive male ego,' I thought. 'I'm sure Phillip isn't used to refusals, and I don't want him to be biased against Reggie because of me. However, I suspect he's the sort of man who expects a first date to end up in bed because it usually does.'

“That would be very nice,” I replied. “The problem is that I'm only here for one more weekend and I promised Mum I'd take her out on Sunday. Do you mind if I take a rain check on that?”

“No, that's fine. I'm sure we'll catch up again,” said Phillip, looking rather disappointed.

“I hope so too. Anyway, what would your girlfriend think?” I said with a smile.

“I don't have a girlfriend,” he replied.

“Unless you are gay, which I very much doubt, I suspect what you really mean is that you have many girlfriends but no-one special?”

Phillip laughed “Harriet, you're not only very pretty, you're also very smart. That's one of the many things I like about you.” That embarrassed me of course, which was what he intended, and made him think he'd won the exchange and I was happy that he thought so.

After we finished our supper, we walked back to where I had parked my car, and I made no objection when Phillip kissed me goodnight. It was quite a kiss too, with his tongue halfway down my throat. It seemed my 'women's instinct' about Phillip had been right.

The following morning I rang Emma and asked if I could use her computer as I needed to send Reggie an email. She had no objection of course, so I went round there later and wrote to Reggie as follows:

'Dear Reggie,
I was surprised to see you at the pantomime, but I guess that means that it was S's idea. Bumping into you at the café was also a surprise, but perhaps a good thing as S must think I am accumulating boyfriends. I only met Phillip yesterday and won't be meeting up with him again if I can help it.
I do need to tell you about him though, he's a member of the York University cricket team which I know you'd like to join, so I did my best to keep him sweet without actually agreeing to go on a date with him. I told him we were just casual friends, so you know what to tell him about me if he asks.
I hope you had a good Christmas. You looked well which I was pleased to see. I go back to Stratford in about a week and then prepare for the overseas tour. When I return I'm having my surgery. I'm not sure what I'll be doing afterwards but that's an actor's life.
All my love,
Harriet.

I checked it over and clicked 'send'. I didn't know when he'd get a chance to read it, so I didn't expect a prompt reply.

On the following Sunday I took Mum out for a run in the country and lunch at one of the village pubs which put on such nice food.

As we drove along, Mum said “Darling, you know I don't like to pry but I'm still puzzled about what happened with Reggie and you. You seemed so happy together and then you tell me he's gone and married this young woman he's only just met. There must be more to the story than that.”

I had been expecting this for some time, so I'd had time to get my story together. I hated telling Mum a lie, but there were parts of the story it was better she didn't know, so my sins were more of omission than commission.

The way I told it, Reggie had had a fling with Sophie and she had become pregnant so he felt he had to do the honorable thing and marry her. Since then she had lost the baby. I didn't say anything about Sid and his veiled threats; the less anyone know about that the better.

“Maybe it worked out for the best,” I said. “After all, I probably won't be at Stratford for ever. I might be travelling all over the country and that doesn't help a marriage.”

Mum looked at me and said nothing, but I don't think she believed me.

Midway through the following week, June returned to rehearse her part, and the Friday night performance was my last. Everyone was so kind, saying how much I had helped them out and they hoped to see me on stage with them again sometime. They presented me with a huge bouquet of flowers which I left with Mum after extracting a few of the blooms to take back with me to Stratford. I felt a little sad to be leaving Brid and the show, but after all I was only ever a stand-in.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 32   Flying high

I drove back to Stratford on Saturday morning. I had phoned Dale the previous day to tell him I was on my way, just in case he needed to do a 'tidy-up'. In fact the flat was very tidy when I arrived and I suspected that Frank had been visiting, but I didn't ask; after all it was none of my business.

Dale surprised me by saying that he and Frank had driven up to Bridchester to see 'Cinderella' the previous Saturday night.

“Why didn't you let me know you were there?” I asked. “We could have had supper together.”

“Oh we can't keep taking up your time,” said Dale. “You have a real fan in Frank though. He insists of seeing every show you're in, so I'm sure we can all catch up after the next one, whenever that is.”

“Well the next performances are overseas,” I said. “I hope he doesn't insist on seeing those or it's going to cost a fortune!” We both had a laugh about that.

I was pleased to see my passport had arrived, shiny and new and I looked forward to getting some stamps on the blank pages. I was glad that the passport office had accepted my letter of explanation and the confirmation supplied by my surgeon so that I was now shown as female, with a photograph of me as I now was. Thus there would be no awkward questions to answer as I passed through immigration.

That evening I opened up my laptop and logged into Hotmail. I had hoped for an email from Reggie, but instead there was one from Aunt Peggy in Australia which had arrived a week earlier.

' Dear Harriet,
Thanks for your letter. We're so glad to hear everything is going well there. Your career is going great guns and we were thrilled to hear you are coming out to Aus. We'll watch out for when the tickets are on sale in Melbourne. Please let us know which performances you are in. You probably won't have time to come to Yack, so it will be better if we head down to Melbourne and stay a day or two. We do that once or twice a year, and usually stay at the Windsor Hotel, but let us know where you are staying and we'll see if we can book into the same place.
Great you're on email now, it will be easier to stay in touch.
Love from Ron, me and the kids.
Peggy xxx'

I immediately wrote back:

'Dear Aunt Peggy,
Sorry for the delay in writing. I just arrived back from Brid where I was in the pantomime as Mum has probably told you. I just filled in for someone who was sick but it was great fun. I'll write and tell you the performance dates and which ones I will be in as Cassie will play Juliet in some of them, but I will play Viola in all performances of Twelfth Night. I'm looking forward to seeing you again.
Love to all, Harriet' xxx

It was soon time to head back to the theatre for some more rehearsals, and group discussions on how we were going to approach the performances.

There was an air or excitement as we all gathered together again. The one new cast member, Sir John McKenna was present. He remembered me from 'Hamlet' and kindly said “I've been hearing great things about you in 'Romeo and Juliet” and I look forward to working with you, my dear.”

Having had a long career in the theatre he knew some of the other cast members too, so he was soon right at home with us all. Someone asked if he'd heard how Leon McKeen was, since they were friends.

“I'm sorry to say he's not at all well,” he responded after a hesitation. “I don't think there's anything anyone can do for him other than pray.” So it was serious.

Paul arrived on-stage then and lightened the mood.

“Welcome back ladies and gentlemen and a Happy New Year to you all. I hope you all had a good rest, although I did hear that one of our number just couldn't keep off the stage and has been acting in a pantomime!” He laughed. “Yes Harriet responded to an emergency call from her brother-in-law who was directing 'Cinderella' in Bridchester and had his Fairy Godmother go down with tonsillitis. What's that, the third time you've stepped in to save the day, Harriet?”

I was the colour of beetroot by now of course, but responded by saying “The fourth time actually if you count reading the Lesson at the Christmas service for a parishioner who wasn't well.”

Someone called out “They'll be naming you the 'Angel of Pestilence'. Everywhere you go someone gets sick!”

Everyone was laughing and clapping by now, and I really didn't mind a bit of teasing.

Paul was laughing too. “So remember, if anyone gets sick in future – Harriet's your girl! Now down to business. We fly out in two weeks' time. We'll all meet here at the theatre and travel down to Heathrow to fly to Singapore for our first stop. We've organised a 'group travel' arrangement which means lower fares and group check-in, so we'll be travelling Business Class as I want everyone to be rested. (There was a murmur of approval at this announcement)

“We were to perform in the Kallang Theatre which seats seventeen hundred people, and we understand the three performances are already completely sold out. I have to tell you that Singapore has a population of around five million and it's just over the causeway from Malaysia which has a population of over twenty million, so perhaps it's not surprising that sales have been so good. Now the promoters have decided to transfer the performances to the nearby Singapore Indoor Stadium which seats six thousand people.”

There was quite a buzz of conversation in response to this news.

“You'll be playing in the round, a bit like a large version of the Globe Theatre. By the way, has anyone played the Globe?”

Sir John coughed politely. “As a matter of fact I have – in Henry the Fourth Parts One and Two, a few years ago. I played Falstaff. It was quite an experience, especially the day when we had a downpour. Some of the audience had umbrellas but the actors didn't!”

There was general laughter at that.

“Well at least the Singapore Stadium has a roof,” said Paul. I suspect he knew about Sir John's experience there but left it to him whether he wanted to acknowledge it. “If you can offer us any suggestions or insights, Sir John, I'm sure they will be gratefully received.” Sir John nodded gravely.

“The arena is normally used for sports events, rock concerts etc, and I don't think they've ever had Shakespeare performed there. They will construct a large thrust stage for us, with one end of the stadium used for background scenery. Because of that the audience will be seated around three sides of the arena. From our point of view the downside is that all the cast would need to be miked, and they'd probably use video cameras to project a picture onto a big screen so the audience could see facial expressions. We did have some doubts about switching to such a large venue, but they finally persuaded us that it was a good idea.”

One of the cast said “I hope this isn't a silly question but will they be able to understand us?”

“Oh yes, English is a commonly spoken in Singapore and Malaysia. They were both once part of the British Empire you know?”

“Not Shakespearean English though,” said someone.

Paul was very patient. “There'll be a synopsis of the plays in the programs and then it's up to us to make sure they understand what is going on. I think you'll be surprised how much they comprehend. Both the plays we are performing are amongst Shakespeare's most popular ones, so it's quite possible they've seen them before. Are there any more questions?”

The tone of voice in which he asked that question rather inhibited any more queries.

“Very good. If the cast of 'Romeo and Juliet' will come with me to the large rehearsal room we'll do some preliminary blocking for performing in the round. The 'Twelfth Night' cast can go home, but I'll see you again in the morning to do your blocking.”

As we walked to the rehearsal space, Richard fell into step with me.

“Would you like to go for a coffee after this is over, and we can catch up on what we've been doing?” he said quietly, and I nodded.

“Zizzi's. See you there,” he muttered. I could understand his discretion, theatres are hotbeds of gossip, and a simple cup of coffee between two people can easily be blown up into rumours of a wild affair. Since both Richard and I were single, what we did was nobody's business of course, but still, why give people something to gossip about?

We spent about two hours blocking our moves, and then were released for the day. Richard disappeared through the door to the exterior of the theatre, and I took my time in the 'Ladies' before casually strolling down to the café, which only took about five minutes. We could easily claim that if we really wanted to be secretive, we wouldn't be meeting so close to our workplace.

I found Richard sitting towards the back of the café with two cups of latté on the table.

I knew he has spent Christmas with his family, so I said “How was Swansea?”

Richard smiled. “In a word, 'wet',” he replied and we both laughed. “Have you ever been there?” he asked. He saw my face cloud over and was instantly contrite. “I'm sorry, it seems that was tactless of me. Something bad happen there?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “It was a nice weekend and it didn't rain once. I know you won't ask but it was with Reggie, the guy who got married, so that's why I felt a bit sad. Sometimes things in our past make us feel that way. You know that poem from 'A Shropshire Lad' ?”

Richard smiled, and in that lovely lilting Welsh accent which it seemed he could turn off and on at will he recited:

'Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.'

A single tear ran down my cheek and fell on the table.

“Goodness me, I think we'd better talk about something else,” he said, offering me his handkerchief. I took it gratefully and dabbed at my cheek.

“I'm sorry. Yes, let's. So how did Christmas go?”

“The way most Christmases go, exactly like the one before, and you know the next one will be the same,” he replied.

'Only that isn't always the case,” I thought, remembering our first Christmas after Dad died. I chose not to mention that but it did nothing to lighten my mood.

“Oh before I forget I must tell you, the whole family came up to Stratford to see 'Romeo and Juliet' and Mam said to be sure to tell you how impressed she was with your performance, mine too incidentally, so that was nice. She said we looked like we were really in love and I had to explain to her that we were acting.”

I smiled. “Someone said much the same thing to me. It seems we are good at fooling people.” ('Or are we fooling ourselves?' I thought.)

“Well, I suppose that's what acting is all about.” Then he suddenly changed the subject.

“When the tour is over and we return, we should go to visit Llanfairpwllgyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwillllantysiliogogogoch”

“Saint Mary's Church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the Church of St. Tysilio of the red cave.”

“ Ydych chi'n siarad Cymraeg?” he said. Seeing the blank look on my face, Richard laughed. “Well that answers my question. I just asked if you speak Welsh?”

“Heavens no, although I've often thought that I'd like to. We had a Welsh schoolmaster, a Mr Evans and he told us the full name of Llanfair P.G and what it meant. He said it was an early publicity stunt to get tourists to go there and they're still using it. It's on Anglesey isn't it?”

“Yes it is. Far enough away from Swansea?” he asked.

“I've really got nothing against Swansea. Reggie's Aunt Jean lives there and she's a really nice person. While we were there we went to hear a local male voice choir and that was so special. In fact my favourite male singer is Bryn Terfel. (I pronounced it as it appears to an English person).

“Now I'll give you your first Welsh lesson,” said Richard. “A single 'f' is pronounced like a 'v', and a double 'f' is 'f', so you pronounce it 'Tervel', just like you should “Llanvair'. Actually, his full name is Bryn Terfel Jones, but there was another singer called Bryn Jones which is why he decided to use his second name like a surname to avoid confusion.”

“Thank you, I'll remember that,” I replied. “I wonder where I can find a good Welsh teacher? Do you happen to know any – good looking ones I mean?”

I looked at Richard and we both laughed. It occurred to me that I was flirting with him and enjoying it. I felt sure he was too.

“I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this,” I said.

“Because I'm a sympathetic listener,” he replied. “What...” He stopped abruptly.

“What happened to make Reggie and I break up? I'm sorry, I'd like to tell you but I can't. I made a promise.”

“I'm sorry too, my big mouth again, I should restrict it to acting or singing,” said Richard. Impulsively I reached out and took his hand which was lying on the table.

“You've nothing to be sorry for. I haven't enjoyed a conversation so much in a long while. I hope we can do this again,” I said.

“I'd really like that,” Richard responded.

We walked back to where my car was parked and I drove him to his flat but declined an invitation to go in. He kissed my cheek before he got out of the car. My own thoughts were in a whirling jumble of emotions as I drove away. Was I starting to feel more than friendship for Richard? After all we had quite a lot in common, more than I did with Reggie if I was honest with myself, but did I have any right to do that when Reggie had made such an enormous sacrifice for me? Add to that the fact that Richard didn't know about my own secret. Oh dear, why did life have to be so complicated? More often than not it was men who made it that way.

The next two weeks were busy ones, rehearsing the two plays, and practising playing them in the round. Scarlett had returned to play Olivia. She had greeted me cordially and congratulated me on performing as Juliet. I couldn't help noticing that she seemed to be spending a lot of time chatting to Jemma. I didn't know whether I should try to do something to warn Jemma, so I discussed it with Cassie. Her opinion was that I couldn't know for sure if Scarlett's interest in Jemma was unwelcome, and with all of us shortly to be very much in each other's company, it was a bad time to be causing any tension.

“Let's just keep an eye on things and see how they pan out,” she suggested.

A day or so later, Paul took me aside: “Harriet, you're the only cast member who has a substantial part in both plays. The seats for the 'Romeo and Juliet' performances are selling so well in Singapore that they've requested that we perform a matinée on the Saturday. I suspect it's the rôle you prefer, but do you mind playing the matinée and have Cassie play the evening, then you will be rested to play Viola in 'Twelfth Night' on the Sunday evening?”

I saw the sense in what he was suggesting, so I agreed. I think Paul was fearing I would be a 'drama queen' about his request, but if I was one I wanted it to be in the nicest possible way.

The next day Paul announced what was happening to the full cast. I think we were all amazed that a six thousand seat venue could be selling so well that they requested an extra performance, but no doubt there would be a financial bonus for our Company.

“One thing I must speak to you all about is the weather at the various stops,” said Paul. “It will be summer in the southern hemisphere and can get very hot indeed. Singapore is often in the low thirties Celsius that's in the low nineties Fahrenheit, and it can be very humid.

“When we get to Australia it might be about the same and only slightly cooler in New Zealand but it will probably be at least the seventies or eighties. The venues we play in and the hotels all have air conditioning, but remember to put on suntan lotion and wear a hat if you're out in the sun. I've been out there and it's easy to get heatstroke. Once we get to America we'll be back in the northern hemisphere so temperatures will be in the thirties to fifties range, so wrap up well and don't catch a chill.

“As we're flying Qantas Business Class we get forty kilos of luggage, so use it wisely to take clothes for both hot and cold climates, and take a tip from me, don't use up your full allowance at the start of the trip as you're sure to buy things along the way, and you don't want to be paying excess luggage charges. It's a good idea to wear your heaviest clothes onto the plane as they don't weigh you, just your luggage, and try to get a light-weight suitcase too. You can also take two carry-on items but check the sizes and weights.”

It all sounded quite complicated but also very exciting. I decided to ask Cassie if she'd been overseas with Dame Emily and could give me some pointers.

It turned out that she had been to Australia with her mother when Dame Emily had performed a short season of famous excerpts from well-known plays including Shakespeare.

“I was fifteen at the time so it's a while ago, but it was summer time and I remember it was very hot,” she said. “You need to take cotton dresses or skirts and tops, plus sandals and a broad-brimmed hat. Of course when we reach America it will be winter again so you'll need some warm clothes. One other thing, it's quite likely that the big wigs from the various places we stop will hold a reception for us, so you need a suitable gown for that, maybe the black one you bought recently, with matching heels of course. You only need one outfit since all the places we stop are hundreds of miles from each other.

“I suggest you buy two light-weight suitcases, those new ones with four wheels as they are so easy to move around. As for the amount of clothes, Mum gave me some advice that she was given, which is chose the minimum number you think you'll need, and then take out half of them!”

We both laughed at that, but it was probably the best piece of advice I could be given.

Paul had been appointed as tour leader, with a member of the Admin staff, a young man called Adrian as his assistant. I checked with Adrian what dates we would be in Melbourne, which would be my performances and where we would be accommodated. I was told we would be performing in the Princess Theatre, built in 1886 and seating just under 1500 people and we would be staying in the Windsor Hotel just down the road. Then I sent an email to Aunt Peggy.

An answer came from Aunt Peggy two days later to say she was very much looking forward to meeting me again and that she and Ron were keen to see me perform. They had had already booked a couple of nights at the Windsor while I was there.

The next two weeks flew by. I went down to London to see Dr McLeish, my specialist. She examined me and checked my latest blood results which were fine. Although I would have to see her for a final check before surgery, all being well, it would take place the week after I returned from the overseas tour.

I sent a brief email to Reggie to let him know when I was leaving on the tour and when I would be back. I also said I hoped he was ok. The next day I received a reply saying he was fine and wishing me a good trip and to 'break a leg'!

I talked to Dale to make sure that any bills that arrived while I was away would be paid, and I would settle up with him upon my return. I gave him my Hotmail address and suggested he send me a message if anything urgent arose as that would be far cheaper than an overseas phone call.

We had a final briefing session at the theatre confirming the performance dates and locations.

“One thing I haven't mentioned before is that we are being invited to a reception with a senior government official in Singapore, and the same will probably happen at some of the other stops on our tour, so ladies, please bring along a suitable gown, and gentlemen, you will need a dinner suit,” said Paul.

There was a murmur from the cast and crew, and Cassie nudged me “See? I told you so,” she whispered.

Finally the big day arrived and Dale drove me to the theatre, complete with my suitcase and hand luggage. I was on my 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, also Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 33   The tour begins

All the cast and crew were gathering in the forecourt of the theatre at 7am to wait for the bus which would take us to London. When it arrived, our luggage was loaded on board and I took a seat next to Cassie. It took us about two and a half hours for the trip. When we drove into Heathrow Airport and headed towards Terminal 3, I was amazed at its size. It would be so easy to get lost there, and I was glad that I was part of a group with some experienced flyers.

It was Adrian's job to make sure we all checked in our suitcases and were issued with our boarding passes. Then we went through Security, having all our hand luggage x-rayed. I had been scrupulously careful not to include sharps and liquids in mine. To her embarrassment, Cassie had left a pair of nail scissors in her make-up bag and these were duly confiscated.

“Wow! You could do a lot of damage with those,” I said to her with a smile.

Then Paul shepherded us all to the departure lounge. To my surprise a reporter and photographer approached him for an interview about our trip and also asked to take a picture of the group.

“Did they come here especially for the story?” I asked Cassie.

She laughed. “No, there are several reporters and photographers permanently based at the airport. That's how they get the pictures and stories when celebrities arrive and depart. We're not that big a story – it might not even make the papers, but you never know.”

We sat in the Business Class lounge for about an hour before we were called to board our flight. There were free sandwiches and drinks available and Cassie commented “This is nice; make the most of it, you won't get this when you travel 'Cattle Class'.”

I raised an eyebrow at the expression, but I realised what she meant.

The Qantas aircraft we were flying to Singapore was a Boeing 747-400 model. Cassie and I had been allocated seats on the upper deck. Not having flown before I had nothing to compare them with, but they did appear quite large and comfortable and I mentioned this to Cassie.

“I'm really going to enjoy this trip,” she said. “Just you wait until you've flown overseas in Economy and you'll see the difference then.”

Our flight took off at 1.05pm. We had one stop at Dubai where we changed planes. The terminal seemed to be even bigger than Heathrow. It was interesting to see people of all the different races there, including many in traditional arab dress, the men wearing the long white tunics and the 'keffiyeh' headdress. Some of the women wore the burqa or a hijab while others seemed comfortable in western dress with their hair uncovered. I would love to have taken pictures of them but thought it might not be appreciated.

When we finally arrive in Singapore it was 3pm the following day. The flight was certainly very enjoyable with the comfortable reclining seats which allowed me to sleep, very nice meals and plenty of entertainment to be viewed on the screens attached to the back of the seat in front of us.

After collecting our suitcases we were led out of the air-conditioned terminal to a bus that was waiting for us, and I experienced my first tropical heat which hit me like standing in front of an oven. Once we were in the air-conditioned bus it was cool again. We were driven to our hotel in Orchard Road and Paul told us that we would have two hours to settle in and have a shower and after that we would be driven to the Singapore Indoor Stadium to see where we would be performing.

Cassie and I were sharing a room. It was bright and clean with twin beds and an en suite. We certainly couldn't complain. We tossed a coin for who should get first shower and Cassie won. Meanwhile I unpacked my clothes and looked out of the window at the variety of buildings to be seen, some built in the traditional Chinese style and intermingled with some modern multi-storey buildings.

When Cassie had finished, it was my turn in the bathroom. We both dressed in light cotton dresses, since Cassie assured me that even in the evening it would still be quite hot. We also took light linen hats with us. Then we went down to the hotel foyer to await the bus. Once more we braved a blast of heat as we walked from the hotel to the bus, but at least we were dressed for it now.

The arena was only a five minute bus drive away from the hotel. As we walked in we were stunned by its size. The main arena was oblong in shape and could be reconfigured to suit a particular performance. The staff had been hard at work. At one end was a deep stage about the width of the arena, with a thrust stage stretching out about a third of the way across the arena, and about three or four feet high. At the rear of the stage they had built a two-storey structure with a balcony overlooking an entrance, designed to be similar in appearance to the rear of the original Globe theatre stage. Obviously this would be used for the balcony scene.

There were two large video screens suspended from the roof on either side of the stage, and we could see a number of television cameras placed around the arena. It seems the intention was to enable the audience at the rear of the building to see the action on the stage in close-up. It appeared that the performance would be something of a hybrid – a stage performance with a simultaneous television production which I suspected would be recorded. It would be a challenge to play both simultaneously, but after all we were professionals so I was sure we could do it successfully.

“Right, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we all go up on the stage and get used to it,” said Paul. We followed him onto the stage. It certainly seemed very big compared to the one at Stratford. As we walked around Scarlett came up to me.

“Hi Harriet, I haven't had a chance to chat with you since I returned to Stratford, how are you doing?” she said.

“Quite well thank you. This is a very exciting trip isn't it?”

“Yes it is. I heard about your boyfriend getting married.” She said it in what sounded like a sympathetic tone.

“Yes, well that's men for you. He was obviously ready to marry and settle down, and at present I'm not. I still want to develop my career,” I replied.

She smiled. “Well from what I hear your career is going very well, and after all there's no shortage of men in the world.”

“Thanks, but I know I still have a long way to go in developing my career, and as for men, well, you're right there,” I replied.

Later, Richard came up to me. “I saw you chatting with Scarlett, I hope you're not thinking of playing for the other team,” he said.

“Not at all,” I replied, laughing.

“I'm glad to hear that,” he replied, and I wondered what exactly he meant by that.

At that point Paul gathered us all together on the stage.

“Right everyone, we have only two days to prepare for the performances, so there is a lot of work to do. Tomorrow we will start by rehearsing 'Romeo and Juliet' in the morning and 'Twelfth Night' in the afternoon. They will be a full dress rehearsals and the television cameramen will be practising to make their recording as good as possible.

“I think that the blocking we worked out back in Stratford will succeed quite well, but there may be a need to make some adjustments. Would the cast members involved in the balcony scene please come with me now and we will check out the balcony.”

Cassie, Jemma and I followed him to the rear of the scenery that had been erected at the rear of the stage. Fortunately a fairly wide set of steps with a hand rail had been constructed to reach the balcony and we felt sure we could negotiate it without any problems.

That evening, which was the only free one we had, the reception with the senior government officials was held in one of the classic buildings dating back to British colonial days. The men all looked dashing in their dinner suits and the ladies were decked out in evening gowns, and looking very glamorous. Richard made a point of coming up to me and telling me that I looked 'amazing'.

There was the usual finger food and drinks including the famous Singapore Sling. There are variations on the recipe but we were assured that ours, which consisted of gin, Benedictine, Cherry Heering, Cointreau, pineapple juice, lime juice, Grenadine and a dash of Angustura Bitters, was the original recipe as served at Raffles Hotel. The mixture was shaken, not stirred, à la James Bond, poured into a tall glass and garnished with a slice of pineapple and a cherry. It packed quite a punch and I made one last the whole evening.

The senior government official made a speech in which he welcomed us to Singapore and said how much he was looking forward to seeing us perform. Paul in turn said how much the company was looking forward to playing to such a large audience. We all lined up, a bit like the stars of a Royal Command Performance and were introduced to the officials.

Fortunately the event finished by ten o'clock and we were bussed back to our hotel and went straight to bed as Paul wanted us to be back at the arena before nine o'clock the next morning to start rehearsals.

We were up early Friday morning, had breakfast and were in the bus by eight-thirty. Paul had decided that Cassie should do the first rehearsal of the whole play, and that I would rehearse only the scenes in which Juliet appears. This was logical since time was limited. We both went to the dressing room, which was very spacious, and after Cassie was ready, then it was my turn. Then I sat in the stalls and watched the rehearsal, making mental notes. Sir John had stepped into the rôle of Friar Lawrence without any problems. After all, he had played it a number of times in the past. After the performance was completed, I went on stage and rehearsed my scenes. There were two scenes in each of the first three acts, three in the fourth act, and only one in the fifth, so this reduced the amount of time needed for rehearsal by quite a lot.

I confess that as we rehearsed the balcony scene I couldn't help thinking of Richard's remark the preceding day. Was he starting to think that our 'pretend' love on stage was developing into something more real? Afraid that I would be distracted, I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

In the afternoon we rehearsed 'Twelfth Night'. Chris Johnson, the original director of the production wasn't with us as he was working elsewhere. Fortunately, Paul didn't want to make any major changes to the production, knowing it would be counter-productive with so little time to rehearse, and it seemed to go very well.

After the rehearsal Paul asked Cassie, Jemma and me to stay behind.

“I would like the performances to be as follows: On Saturday, Harriet will play the matinée of 'Romeo and Juliet', and Cassie the evening. On Sunday we have two performances of 'Twelfth Night', so you will be doing those of course, Harriet; then Monday, Cassie will do Juliet in the matinée, and Harriet in the evening. In that way you will get some rest between performances and you will be there Jemma, in case of any problems. Are you all happy with that?”

We nodded our assent. It was going to be a busy three days, but I was sure we were up to it. The bus took us back to the hotel for a meal and another early night in bed.

The following day was the first performance of 'Romeo and Juliet'. Looking out at the crowd filling the stadium I could hardly believe it. I was used to performing before audiences of about seventeen hundred people, but this was about six thousand! We were all wearing microphones, the sort that sit on a wire near the mouth and are a pale pink in colour to blend in with the skin. The television cameras were at the rear of each side of the auditorium, so it was easy to avoid looking directly at them, and we had been told that for close-ups they would use cameras on the opposite side of our faces from the microphones, so they wouldn't be visible.

At the end of the tour, we were all given a copy of the DVD produced in Singapore and sent over to Britain. As it happens it was when I was performing Juliet, and I still have it. The performance went very well, and at the conclusion when we were taking our bows, the sound of six thousand people cheering and clapping was deafening.

For the evening performance with Cassie, I sat in the dressing room and watched on the big colour monitor, and at the conclusion the sound of the applause was loud even there. Each performance was received in the same manner and Paul was very pleased. We had one day's break at the end and we were taken by bus on a tour of Singapore. In my photo album are pictures of us in front of the Merlion, at the amazing Botanical Gardens, shopping in Orchard Road, and many other places. In the evening we were treated to a wonderful Chinese meal.

One final thing happened in Singapore which I feel embarrassed to record, but I promised myself at the start of this memoir that I would be honest. That final night I had a vivid dream. In it Richard and I were in bed together and making love. It seemed so realistic that when I suddenly found myself awake and basking in a warm glow that suffused my whole body, I half expected to find Richard in bed with me. Instead, Cassie, who was in the adjoining bed said
“Harriet, are you alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine, why?”

“You were making a lot of noises and calling out.”

“Oh,” I said, glad of the darkness which hid my blushes. “What was I saying?”

“I might be wrong but it sounded like 'Fluellen' and 'Yes, yes'. It was almost like, you know.”

Indeed I did know. Because of his Welsh ancestry, I had given Richard the nickname of 'Fluellen' who is a Welsh Captain in Shakespeare's 'Henry V'. Fortunately no-one else knew that, well I didn't think they did.

“I think I must have been having a dream,” I said.

“Well it sounded like an enjoyable one, a very enjoyable one,” she said, laughing. “I don't blame you for a moment, Harriet, he's a very attractive guy.”

“Are we that obvious?” I said. “I keep telling people that it's play acting but some don't believe me. In fact I'm starting to wonder if I believe it myself.”

“Harriet, let yourself have a little fun,” said Cassie. “I am. You know Gerry Marsden who's playing Mercutio? We've been getting together and I can tell you that he's hot!”

“I thought he was a musician from the sixties,” I said.

“Same name, different guy,” Cassie replied. “Anyway, I'm keeping you from your sleep, and maybe 'Fluellen' is waiting for you.”

This time I joined in the laughter. Alas, when I went back to sleep the spell had been broken and there were no further visits from my Welsh lover.

The next day we were taken by bus to Changi Airport and boarded another plane, this time bound for Perth. The flight took a little over five hours which was much nicer than the sixteen hours it had taken us to get from London to Singapore. We took off and landed in daylight and were travelling over the sea for most of the trip. There was really only time for a meal and watching a couple of films before we were starting to descend towards Perth Airport.

It was hot in Perth too, but fortunately, not nearly as humid as it had been in Singpore. Once we landed we were taken by bus to our hotel, and after we had settled in we were taken to His Majesty's Theatre, a beautiful old building built in the early nineteen hundreds and seating two and a half thousand people. The scenery was based on that used in Stratford which we knew would make things easier for us. That evening we went to a reception hosted by the State Governor and many senior politicians were present. The press was there too of course, and cameras from the local television stations, so we had quite a bit of publicity. Once more we played to packed houses, and as usual, I had to collect cuttings from the newspapers to keep for Mum's scrap book.

Next stop was Melbourne, about three and a half hour's flight away. I was getting used to the idea that Australia is a very big country; that's about the same time that it takes to fly from London to Moscow. In addition Melbourne was two hours ahead of Perth, so while our plane took off at 9am, it was 2.30pm when we landed. A bus was waiting to take us into the city and when it appeared in the distance it was obviously a great deal bigger than Perth. As we drove down Spring Street, the driver pointed out the extraordinary baroque exterior of the Princess Theatre where we would be performing, and only a few minutes later he drew up outside the equally grand Windsor Hotel, only about five minutes' walk from the theatre.

After we were shown to our rooms and freshened up, we were all taken to the theatre where we were led onto the stage. Roy Bridges the theatre manager appeared and introduced himself.

“Welcome to the Princess Theatre. We are so pleased to welcome the Imperial Shakeseare Company to perform here, and do please let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more enjoyable. The theatre dates back to 1886, built in the 'Second Empire' style, but there has been entertainment on this site dating back to the gold rush of 1854. We can seat 1488 patrons, and we have our own resident ghost, Frederick Baker, an English baritone who performed under the stage name 'Federici'.

“In 1888 he was performing the rôle of 'Mephistopheles' in the opera 'Faust', and for his final exit was being lowered through a stage trapdoor as his character and Faust descend into hell. Unfortunately as this was happening he suffered a heart attack and soon died. Now this is where it gets interesting; the rest of the cast did not know what had happened and later they swore that he came on stage and took his bows with them. Since that time he has often been seen in the theatre wearing evening dress, and for many years a third row seat in the dress circle was kept vacant each opening night in his honour, although why a ghost would need a seat is a mystery to me. By the way, his appearance precedes a successful season, so if anyone spots him, please let me know.”

There was some nervous laughter at this story. I was particularly interested, remembering my experience in the Finsbury Park theatre, and couldn't help wondering if I was particularly prone to experiencing paranormal phenomena.

Again the stage sets were similar to those we used in Stratford. After a walk around to get used to the stage and a trip to the dressing rooms, we returned to the hotel to get ready for another reception, this time at Government House. I wore my gown again, and although I knew that no-one in Melbourne had seen it, I was starting to wish that I had another gown so that at least I had a choice.

The following morning after being given the option of a sumptuous breakfast which made it difficult to resist piling my plate high, we all walked to the theatre for a rehearsal of 'Romeo and Juliet'. This time Paul asked me to perform in the whole run-through, and this is when it happened.

We were performing the balcony scene, and I was probably the only person facing the auditorium. The house lights were lowered but not completely extinguished. Something made me glance up at the dress circle and there he was! I distinctly saw a man in old-fashioned evening dress standing there and looking down at the stage and he seemed to smile at me. I suddenly realised that Richard was speaking, and looked down at him as I was supposed to do. A few minutes later I had the opportunity to glance up at the dress circle again but of course it was empty.

Strangely I didn't feel at all alarmed, remembering what the theatre manager had said, and decided that if the opportunity arose I would tell him what I had seen but ask for his discretion. No-one wants to risk being thought of as a looney.

Paul had noticed my momentary distraction of course and spoke to me after the rehearsal.

“What happened in the balcony scene Harriet? For a moment there you seemed to lose concentration.”

I blushed “Oh it was nothing. It won't happen again I promise.”

Paul looked hard at me. “You saw him didn't you.”

I nodded.

He smiled. “Don't worry, I won't say anything. Maybe you'd better let the theatre manager know. I'm sure he'll be pleased.”

Roy Bridges was indeed pleased and said “Well that means we can look forward to a good season.” He laughed then and continued “When you perform in London, I warn you, almost every theatre has at least one ghost, and the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane is supposed to be the most haunted of all.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. “I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to perform there, but I did see a ghost once when I was performing in London. It was quite an experience.”

News got around about Federici, but the manager was as good as his word, and no-one else knew who had seen him.

In the afternoon there was a rehearsal of 'Twelfth Night', and when we returned to the hotel about six o'clock there was a message for me at Reception from Aunt Peggy.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 34   Performing in Melbourne

The young woman at Reception kindly phoned Aunt Peggy's suite for me and she answered immediately.

“Hello Aunt Peggy, it's Harriet. I've just come back from a rehearsal and I'm in the lobby,” I said.

“Harriet! Its lovely to hear your voice. Would you like to come up to our room?” she replied.

When I arrived at what turned out to be a two-bedroom suite, I was surprised to find not only Ron her husband but also Flora and Ron junior, their children.

“Harriet, you've really grown since I last saw you,” said Aunt Peggy. She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. I think what she really meant was that I had matured as a woman, but of course being diplomatic she didn't say so.

“G'day, how are you goin'?” said Ron, holding out his hand to shake mine. He was tall, lean and sunburnt, as Australian as Chips Rafferty the late film star.

“I'm fine thank you,” I replied. “So this must be Flora and Ron junior. Did you wag school?”

Aunt Peggy laughed. “You're picking up Aussie slang already! When I told their teachers that my niece was performing Shakespeare with a very famous English company at the Princess Theatre, there was no trouble getting permission for them to miss a day's school. Of course I said that I'm taking them to see you perform in 'Twelfth Night' too, so that clinched it.”

Flora, who I think was now fourteen, was a very pretty girl and blushed as she said “It's nice to meet you cousin Harriet. Do you enjoy acting?”

“I love it, Flora,” I replied. ”Especially when it gives me a chance to come halfway around the world and meet my relatives.”

“But how do you remember all those words?”

“I'm very lucky, they just seem to stick in my mind,” I replied.

Ron junior was about eleven and the image of his dad. Indeed he copied Ron in holding out his hand and solemnly shaking mine.

“G'day, how are you goin'?” he said, echoing his father in the standard form of greeting.

“Fine, yourself?” I replied, having picked up the required response from one of the Aussie stage hands.

“Fine, thanks,” he replied. Obviously he was a boy of few words, but I think he was a bit shy too.

“Would you like to come down and have dinner with us?” said Ron. “I've booked a table.”

“Yes, I'd love to,” I replied. “I've brought you some pictures of Mum, Emma and the new baby Elizabeth; I'll just go to my room and get them and see you in the dining room.”

Going to my room gave me a chance to freshen up my makeup. I considered changing my dress but decided against it. I didn't want to look like I was going overboard, as it might make Peggy and Ron feel uncomfortable.

Cassie was there and I told her what I was doing.

“So you'll be gone for a couple of hours then?” she said.

“Yes, I'm sure I will. We've got a lot of catching up to do,” I replied. “Did you want to come down too?”

“Oh no,” she replied. “Thanks for inviting me, but I'm not hungry. I think I'll just have a relaxing evening here.”

As I took the lift down to the dining room it suddenly occurred to me why she was asking. Cassie had a 'thing' going with Gerry who was playing Mercutio, and during this tour they really didn't have any opportunity to spend time alone together, hence her enquiry. I decided I had better ring the room before I went back up there after dinner, to avoid embarrassment on anyone's part.

Ten minutes later I met my relatives in the wonderfully ornate dining room with its chandeliers and ceiling fans. This was living the high life, and I thought to myself that I could very easily get used to it!

“What do you think of Melbourne so far?” said Aunt Peggy.

“Well I haven't really had time to see too much of it, although there are some very fine buildings at this end of town. I really wish I had more time to look around but after we do the performances then it's off to Sydney. I suspect this trip is going to be a case of visiting some amazing cities and not really seeing any of them.”

After an excellent dinner, we all went to relax with coffee in a sitting room. I handed over the photos of the family I had brought, which were received with exclamations of pleasure. I had brought down my camera and took some photos of Aunt Peggy, Ron senior and junior and Flora, and asked a waiter to take some shots with me in them as well.

We continued chatting for some time. Ron junior finally asked if he could go up to their suite. I think he was getting bored with the conversation. Flora on the other hand was obviously enjoying chatting with the 'grown-ups'. Of course she was a couple of years older than Ron junior and girls do mature quicker than boys. She was a very pretty girl and dressed in a summer frock looked a real picture. I made no comment but thought how nice it was to see a girl wear a dress, not the ubiquitous jeans or trousers (which they called pants in Australia).

Then she caught me 'on the hop' with a question.

“Harriet, my teacher says that the Princess Theatre is haunted. Have you seen the ghost?”

I glanced at both her parents, looking for any almost imperceptible shake of the head, but seeing none I replied as follows:

“Can you keep a secret Flora?” She nodded vigorously.

“Well I think I saw the ghost called Federici today, but it might have been a trick of the light.”

Her eyes were wide with astonishment. “What happened?”

“I was rehearsing the balcony scene in 'Romeo and Juliet' so I was facing the auditorium and I thought I saw a man in evening dress up in the Dress Circle. If it was him, then that's alright because he only appears when the show is going to be a success.”

“So you weren't frightened?” said Flora

“Oh no. We were told he's a friendly ghost, so there was no need to worry. But don't forget, it's our secret that I saw him. If your teacher asks you, just say that someone said they saw him, but don't say who it was, alright?”

“Alright, I promise,” she said very solemnly.

Later, when Flora had gone up to bed, Aunt Peggy said to me “That business about the ghost, you were making it up weren't you?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “He's actually the second theatre ghost I've seen.”

Then I told them about the apparition that appeared in the London theatre. “I don't talk about it,” I said. “Because some people might say I should be locked up.”

We all had a good laugh, and the subject wasn't mentioned again. There was something else I wanted to discuss.

“Aunt Peggy, you know that every new place we go to seems to be holding a reception for us. I brought one formal gown along which is very nice, but I would like to have a choice. My time to shop is very limited, probably just tomorrow morning. Do you know of somewhere close by where I might find a gown and some matching shoes, not too expensive?”

“Well there is 'David Jones' in Bourke Street, it's only a few blocks away, five minutes in a taxi if you're really short of time.”

“That sounds great. I don't suppose you'd like to come with me, maybe bring Flora too if she's interested?”

“I'd love to come shopping with you,” said Aunt Peggy. “I'm sure Flora would too, she's a very 'girly' girl which is rather nice. Ron and I will also be seeing you at the matinée of 'Romeo and Juliet' tomorrow of course. The children will go to the cinema, but we'll bring them with us on Sunday afternoon to see 'Twelfth Night'.”

“Do you think they'd like to come round to the dressing room after the performance?” I asked. “They can meet some of the other cast members then.”

“I'm sure they'd love it; so would we,” said Aunt Peggy, so I promised to arrange it.

“Can we head down to the shops at nine o'clock tomorrow?” I said. “I have to be at the theatre by twelve-thirty at the latest.”

After that was agreed I said that I had better get my 'beauty sleep'. Aunt Peggy said that they were a bit tired too after their drive down from 'Yack'.

Before going up to my room I thought I had better ring Cassie and tell her I was on my way.

“Shall I give you ten minutes?” I asked and she laughed.

“No, it's fine, you can come up now.”

When I entered the room, Cassie was in her dressing gown and she was positively glowing. Obviously while I was at dinner, she had passed the time in a very satisfactory manner. I couldn't help feeling slightly jealous. Then I was caught 'on the hop' for the second time that evening, and this time it was harder to handle.

“Harriet, I've been thinking. I know we can't do anything here, what with your relatives staying in the same hotel, but when we get to Sydney, how would you feel about swapping room-mates for a few nights? Since Richard and Gerry share a room, it would work perfectly.”

I blushed and Casssie laughed. “I know that you are really attracted to Richard, it isn't all acting, so why not go with your feelings? I'm sure he feels the same way about you.”

I could think of several reasons why it mightn't be a good idea. Supposing part of the reason we had so much chemistry was unresolved sexual tension which would be ruined if it was consummated? I knew that Cassie would laugh at that, so I played the trump card.

“Supposing he doesn't know about me? That could ruin everything and make it hard for us to act together.”

Cassie laughed again. “Of course he knows, everyone in the cast does, we just don't mention it because we don't want to embarrass you. Anyway, as far as we are concerned you are a woman and always have been and I'm sure Richard feels the same way.”

I suspected that any objection I put up would just be shot down, so in the end I reluctantly agreed to her plan; after all she was my friend and I didn't want to upset her. It occurred to me that Richard and Gerry's room would have two single beds too, so Richard and I could have one each, while Cassie and Gerry would no doubt only be using one.

I was up early the following morning for breakfast and afterwards met up with Aunt Peggy and Flora for our shopping trip. We walked down Bourke Street to 'David Jones' and asked to be directed to the formal women's wear department. There were some lovely gowns there and not too expensive. After trying on a number of them, I finally settled on an A-line/Princess v-neck floor-length chiffon evening dress with appliques lace in ivory colour. When I came out of the changing room, both Aunt Peggy and Flora said that it was definitely 'the one'. I could see in Flora's eyes that she couldn't wait to grow old enough to wear a gown like that. I managed to find shoes with a five inch heel in a matching colour, and altogether it cost me the equivalent of about £250 which I felt was quite a reasonable price to pay.

We stopped for some light refreshment in the café. Flora sat at one of the few empty tables to reserve it and as we queued to pay I took advantage of her absence to ask Aunt Peggy if I could buy her something to wear as a present.

“I'm sure she'd love that, maybe a top, do you think?”

“Perhaps a skirt or dress,” I said. “I'd like to encourage her to wear them. So many girls wear trousers nowadays. But what should I buy for Ron junior?”

“Oh that's easy,” said Aunt Peggy. “He'd love a new Aussie Rules football. He takes his everywhere with him and the other day one of the cows trod on it and it burst. He nearly cried, he was so upset, so I promised him a new one while we're in Melbourne.”

After we had eaten, Aunt Peggy told Flora of our plan and we headed to the girls' department. She was so excited, going from rack to rack and finally settled on a very pretty summer dress. Aunt Peggy said she thought it was a bit expensive, but I felt it was within my budget, so we left the store with a very happy girl.

Fortunately there was a store close by that sold Aussie Rules footballs. Unlike English footballs, these are oval in shape, more like rugby balls, and I couldn't help thinking that they must be hard to control, but apparently that's part of the fun of the game. Needless to say Ron junior was thrilled when it was presented to him as a gift from his English cousin. I don't think I could have given him anything better.

That afternoon I was performing Juliet. The house was packed and the audience very enthusiastic with wild applause and stamping their feet. We had over half a dozen curtain calls.

“I've seen “Romeo and Juliet' before but never so well done, you had me in tears,” Aunt Peggy said when I caught up with her later.

“Thank you Aunt Peggy, I'm glad you enjoyed it. You won't need to cry tomorrow as it's a comedy,” I replied. She invited me to have dinner with them again, and I agreed with the proviso that I paid this time. Paul gave me permission provided I didn't drink any alcohol.

The following day was a busy one for me with two performances of 'Twelfth Night'. As arranged, the whole McDonald family came around to my dressing room after the matinée. I think even Ron junior enjoyed the play although it seemed in his character to be rather reserved. They all told me that I performed very well which was nice to hear. Flora in particular was effusive in her praise. I could foresee Aunt Peggy asking me to quell any ideas that she might have of following her cousin onto the stage. It wouldn't the first time I'd had to discourage a star-struck teenager, explaining that there was a lot of hard work involved in acting, and how insecure an occupation it was.

The McDonalds were heading home the following morning, while I would be playing Juliet in the evening performance, and after that the company would be packing up and heading to Sydney. I had breakfast with my relatives on Sunday morning and told them how nice it was to meet up with them, and how I hoped that I might get an opportunity to come back to Australia and even visit them at home. We had hugs all round except I shook Ron junior's hand since boys at that age are sensitive to overt displays of affection. After that they went up to their room to finish packing, and I went for a walk down Collins Street into Melbourne as far as Swanston Street, having a look at the shops as I went. If fact 'boutiques' might have been a better term as I passed such names as Tiffany, Armarni, Cartier and Dior, to name but a few. Needless to say, I resisted the temptation to step inside any of them.

I took one of the electric trams back to the hotel. Melbourne is one of the few cities in the world which still has trams and has the largest network anywhere, so it was a novelty for me to ride on one. A kind Melburnian helped me to purchase my ticket from a machine.

"We used to have connies, but they did away with them," he said.

"Connies?" I queried.

"Conductors selling tickets. I can tell from your accent you're from the Old Country. Just here for a visit?"

"Yes. I'm not here long enough but I hope to come back again."

"Good onya," he said.

'What a great expression. I'll have to remember that,' I thought.

The next day we were taken by bus to the airport and took the one-hour flight to Sydney. I looked out of the window at the countryside below me. The journey was so short that the aeroplane didn't reach anything like the cruising height of an international flight, so we had a good view.. From time to time the captain pointed out landmarks below, including the Snowy Mountains which of course were not snowy at all since it was summer, but apparently there are a number of ski fields in operation during winter.

In no time it seemed we were descending to land in Sydney. We flew over the harbour and in the distance could see the famous bridge and the Opera House. The plane descended lower and lower and there were still roads and houses beneath us and it seemed that only at the very last second did we cross the boundary of the airport and felt the bump as the wheels touched the runway. I don't think I would like to live in the suburbs surrounding the airport, but like most things I suppose you get used to the noise. Apparently there has been talk of building a new airport out in the country like Melbourne's, but they can't decide where it should go, so the arguments continue.

In Sydney we were to perform in the Capitol Theatre, another stately old building. Over its lifetime it has been a picture palace but was renovated in 1995 and since then used as a theatre and has staged some famous shows. It seats just over two thousand patrons. After being dropped at our hotel and shown to our rooms, the bus returned to take us to the theatre for orientation, getting used to the layout, walking around the stage and locating the dressing rooms. We were all starting to get used to this gypsy lifestyle with a new hotel and theatre every few days.

It seemed that Sydney was going all out to impress us, in fact we had been made aware of a certain rivalry between its inhabitants and Melbourne's. This was probably the reason why a reception for the company was to be held in one of the foyers of the famous Opera House.

I wore my new evening gown and received some nice compliments from other members of the cast and crew. We were introduced to the State Governor and his wife, the Lord Mayor and his wife and various other dignitaries. I have to say that the view of the harbour at night, the lights from boats and on the shore reflected in the waters was quite amazing. No wonder they had chosen to hold the reception there!

Richard came up and stood beside me as I gazed out of one of the enormous windows. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” he asked.

“Never,” I replied. “This is a truly amazing trip.” I took my camera out of my clutch bag and asked him to take a picture of me with the harbour in the background. “Can you take it without the flash?” I asked. “Otherwise the harbour will just look like a black background.”

Richard found a plinth which I think was part of a sculpture on which he could rest the camera to avoid the picture being blurred. I asked him to take a few exposures and they turned out quite well. Then he put the camera on the timer, stood by my side and put his arm around me for another shot. The picture turned out very well and looking at it still makes me remember the thrill I felt as we stood together there in Sydney.

Later that evening, back at the hotel Cassie and I got undressed, putting on our night dresses and dressing gowns, I don't know if it was sheer good luck or if Cassie somehow arranged it, but Richard and Gerry's room was right next to ours – most convenient!

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

I'd like to express my thanks to everyone who is reading this story, and especially to those who give a 'kudos' and even more to those who write a comment! I wish you all a very Happy Festive Season, and promise that Harriet will be back next Thursday as usual. Writers don't take holidays!
Bronwen

---

Chapter 35   The tour concludes

Cassie was very excited. “You haven't forgotten have you?” she said. No I hadn't forgotten. About eleven o'clock there was a quiet knock on the door. Cassie opened it and Gerry stepped inside, also clad in a dressing gown. This was my signal to go next door. I smiled at them both and stepped out into the corridor. It was empty, and a few steps later I was outside the door of the next room. Richard opened it and I stepped inside.

“The things we do for friends,” I said.

He grinned. “We do indeed,” he said.

I stood there feeling a bit awkward and Richard broke the ice by asking if I'd like a cup of coffee or tea. I gratefully accepted his offer. The room had two small armchairs as well as twin beds, so we sat down and chatted, carefully avoiding the 'elephant in the room', namely the sleeping arrangements. Despite Cassie's confidence, I didn't know for sure that Richard knew about me, and if he didn't know then I thought it was better if things stayed that way. Our conversation was confined to the rôles we had played and the famous actors we had met. I frankly confessed that if it hadn't been for Dame Emily I probably wouldn't be where I was then, chatting to him. It turned out that he had met a famous actor whose name I had better not mention but will just say that he had a knighthood. It seems this actor had taken quite a shine to him and had endeavoured to take him to bed.

“I let him down as gently as I could,” said Richard. “I was tempted to go along with it, just like those stories you hear of actresses and the 'casting couch', but in the end I had to tell him that I 'played for the other team'. I'm sure he's been knocked back before because he took it well and he was still willing to put in a good word for me which resulted in my first major part. Up until then I'd only managed to get 'spear carrier' rôles, or a few lines at most. It's ironic that in this business you have to already be successful in order to get the good parts, so there's a lot of luck involved.

“I agree – absolutely!” I replied while thinking 'Well he certainly won't want to take me to bed then.' I actually felt a bit disappointed.

Eventually I thought that I had better take the lead, so I said “Which bed is Gerry's? Perhaps we had better get some shut-eye.”

Richard looked a bit disappointed. “It's that one,” he said, pointing to it, “If that's what you want.”

I took a deep breath. “I think it's for the best. If you know all about me, no doubt you think so too.”

To my surprise, Richard looked a bit puzzled. “I know you are beautiful, very smart and have a lovely nature,” he said.

I found myself blushing. I hadn't been looking for compliments.

I took a deep breath. “Cassie says you know the other thing about me, and after what you just said about you and Sir (here I mentioned his name), I can't imagine you would want to take me to bed.”

To my surprise he laughed and as a result tears started in my eyes. Richard was instantly contrite. “I'm sorry Harriet, I shouldn't have reacted like that, please forgive me.” He stepped forward and took me in his arms to comfort me.

“Yes I do know about you, not that I asked, you understand? I had no reason to believe you were any different to any other girl I've met apart from the above-mentioned attributes of course. Someone, I'm not saying who, decided that I should know, but really it doesn't make any difference. You are a woman, there's no doubt of that.”

“A woman with a 'plumbing problem' as the saying goes,” I replied. “Well I'm going to do something about that. I'm having surgery soon after I get back to England, so for now I think I shouldn't get too involved with anyone, but afterwards, who knows?”

“In that case I admire you even more,” he said. “You know what you want in life and nothing is going to stand in your way.” He smiled. “Well now that's sorted out, do you want to share a bed with me or not? If you do, we won't do anything you're not comfortable doing. Is that a deal?”

I managed a smile now “Yes, it's a deal.”

So we went to bed together, still wearing our dressing gowns and in a short time we were asleep. The alarm clock began to buzz at six o'clock and a few minutes later, Gerry entered the bedroom. I slipped out of Richard's bed and went back to my room. Cassie was sitting at the table, with two cups of coffee made.

“How did it go?” she asked. “You look like you've had a good night.”

“Yes, it was a good night,” I replied. “We had a chat and then we went to bed.”

“So you don't mind doing it again?” she asked.

“I don't see why not,” I replied. I left it up to her to draw her own conclusions on what had happened, and if she came to the wrong ones, well that was just too bad.

I was having such a good time on this trip and felt rather guilty when I realised that I hadn't yet written to Reggie to tell him how things were going. Fortunately the hotel had computers available for guests to use, so I took the opportunity to log onto Hotmail. I was glad that I did, since there was an email from him in my in-box written the previous day. In it he guessed that I must now be in Australia or New Zealand and hoped that the trip was going well. He didn't have a lot of news; he was still studying hard and had played several games for the college football team. He had scored two goals, one of which helped to win a match. He didn't mention Sophie, which didn't surprise me.

It occurred to me that after some time she must surely wonder why she wasn't getting pregnant, and since she had insisted that Reggie was the father of the child she miscarried, she could hardly accuse him of not being fertile. That left her in a difficult position and I wondered how it would play out. Reggie's decision to have a vasectomy now looked like a very smart move. Not knowing the truth, maybe Sophie would come to the conclusion that Reggie was infertile and perhaps she would in time want a divorce so that she could marry someone else, I certainly hoped so.

My reply to Reggie was naturally full of news.

'Dear Reggie,
The tour is going very well. In Singapore ticket sales were so big that they changed the venue from a 1700 seat theatre to a 6000 seat arena, the largest audience I'm every likely to perform in front of. We all wore microphones to be heard and our images were shown a huge screens. It was like a rock concert! In Perth we were in an old theatre, and the same in Melbourne, one which even had its own ghost! I met Aunt Peggy, Uncle Ron, and cousins Flora and Ron junior who stayed at the same hotel. We had some meals and did some shopping together. They saw the plays and enjoyed them very much. It was good to catch up with Aunt Peggy again and meet my other relatives.
We are now in Sydney and had a reception in the famous Opera House. The harbour and bridge are amazing. Next we are off to New Zealand and after that America. I will write again from New Zealand.
Much love, Harriet.

Of course I also sent an email to Emma containing much the same news, and I knew that she would pass on the contents to Mum. I suspected that Mum might be worried about her little girl being on the opposite side of the world.

We continued playing to capacity audiences. I should mention that the countries where we were playing all had professional theatre companies that specialised in Shakespearean productions, and doubtless some of their members were casting a critical eye over our performances.

In Australia there is the Bell Shakespeare Company, formed in 1990 and based in Sydney and in New Zealand there is the Shakespeare Globe Centre. In 1991, five hundred embroiderers and textile artists combined their talents to make four wall hangings for the new Globe Theatre in London and from that beginning has sprung up a collaboration which has seen teachers and students study and perform there.

The theatre companies performing Shakespeare in the United States are too numerous to mention. Performances started in the mid eighteenth century and remain popular to this day. With so many 'home-grown' performances available, what was it that attracted audiences to us? I suspect it was partly the fame of our company, coming as we did from Shakespeare's home town; also the chance in this case to see famous artists Sir John McKenna and Geraldine McKeown live on-stage. Most of the other cast members, including myself, were too young to be household names yet, although naturally enough we hoped that this would happen in time. For the present it was our intention to live up to the reputation of the ISC by performing to the best standard of which we were capable.

At the conclusion of the Sydney season, we took another plane and headed east again, this time landing in Auckland on New Zealand's North Island. The two islands are quite different; the North Island being very volcanic. We were given a short trip to Rotorua south of Auckland and a centre of geothermal activity, in fact the whole town has the aroma of sulphur or 'rotten eggs'. We saw the Pohutu Geyser at Whakarewarewa erupt and were taught how to pronounce it properly (the 'Wh' is pronounced 'Ph' and the 'r' is rolled). The New Zealand accent is really unique and took us a while to get used to, it's certainly not like the Australian one.

Our Auckland performances were at the Civic Theatre which holds nearly 2400 people and operates as a theatre and cinema, has a 'rococo' style interior and an amazing ceiling with stars and clouds effects.

Our next stop was the South Island which is quite different, with much lush countryside and some quite high mountains including Mt Cook, or Aoraki. A short 'internal' flight took us from the North Island down to Christchurch where we performed at the Theatre Royal, a century old theatre with 1300 seats. Once again the interior decoration was amazing, with a dome illustrated with scenes from 'A Midsummer Night's Dream', and Shakespeare's image on one of the boxes next to the stage.

I love performing in old theatres, they have an atmosphere that the modern ones will never have, or at least not for a century or so! We were all surprised and delighted at the age of some of the theatres we encountered during our tour.

In case my story seems to be turning into a travelogue, I will abbreviate the rest of the tour. After the reception, rehearsals and our New Zealand performances which were again mostly sold out, we flew from Auckland to Los Angeles. This was quite a long trip back to the Northern Hemisphere, which of course meant that when we emerged from the airport, it was winter again and felt a bit chilly after the high temperatures we had just experienced.

More receptions, many with State governors, more rehearsals and theatres followed, or 'theaters' as they are referred to over there. After a while one place almost blurred into another, however, looking back now on the photos I took and the journal that I wrote, I can recall what an amazing journey it was. Since that time I've been overseas many times, but like your first kiss, the first tour is always one to remember.

Finally we arrived in New York and I can definitely say that none of the million photos that everyone has seen can prepare you for what it's like to actually be there. As previously mentioned, we did not play Broadway where the theatres are booked by shows that run for years. Instead we performed in a 3500 seat theatre in Brooklyn which was over seventy years old, again with the most amazing interior. Bookings were excellent with full or nearly full houses every night. This was not strictly 'off Broadway' which refers to smaller theatres of four hundred seats or less in the vicinity of Broadway, but it wasn't that far away.

At last the season came to an end and on our final day all the cast and crew were treated to a tour of New York, including the view from the top of the Empire State Building, a ride on the Staten Island Ferry, and a walk through part of Central Park. That evening we dressed up in our gowns and dinner suits for an end of season dinner at a large Chinese restaurant. I noticed that Scarlett and Jemma came in together. They looked very happy and it seemed that they were now an 'item'. Well it wasn't for me of all people to say what people can and can't do, so I just exchanged smiles with them.

When we were seated and ready to eat, to our surprise who should walk into the room but Duncan Morgan, the ISC's CEO. It turned out that he had been visiting New York to negotiate another longer season for the company, and had arranged it so that he could attend the dinner and surprise us.

As we approached the end of the excellent dinner which like all Chinese ones had many courses, Duncan stood up to address us.

“First of all I'd like to congratulate you all, both cast and crew, on a very successful tour. It seems that everywhere you have performed there have been full houses, including those extraordinary ones in the arena in Singapore. Six thousand people is by any standards a big audience!

“As we all expected, you have upheld the high standards of the Imperial Shakespeare Company wherever you went, and I have been overwhelmed with letters and emails of congratulations.

“I don't want to put a dampener on the evening, but I thought it best you heard it from me first. I received a phone call today that our dear friend and brilliant actor Leon McKeen passed away yesterday. I last spoke to him about a week ago and brought him up to date on the tour. He was thrilled to hear of your success. We are all going to miss him very much. The last thing he said to me was ' I don't think I've got long to go Duncan. Please tell all the company that I love them dearly. Tell them not to be sad but just drink a toast to me one last time, that is if they feel so inclined'. Well I'm sure we are so inclined, so if you'd all be upstanding, I propose a toast – to Leon!”

We all stood up and with one voice said “To Leon”, then took a sip from our glasses and sat down.

It is hardly surprising that after many food courses, and a few glasses of wine, that it was suggested that a company of actors should recite their favourite poem. When it was my turn, since no-one else had chosen it, I stood and said.

“Even though he was Australian, Leon spent so much time in England that he was an 'honorary Englishman', so in his memory and considering where we are at present, I'm going to recite 'Home Thoughts from Abroad' by Robert Browning:

'O, to be in England
Now that April 's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!

And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossom'd pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge—
That 's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!'

I sat down to cheers and applause, so immediately stood up again and bowed to everyone. Well I had consumed a couple of glasses of wine!

Then it was Richard's turn.

“To follow on from Harriet, and in memory of Leon I'd like to recite one of Dylan Thomas's most famous poems.”
This he proceded to do in that lovely lilting Welsh accent which he seemed about to switch on and off at will:

'Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.'

There was silence when he finished, and I confess, my eyes were filled with tears.

The final recitation went to the oldest member of the company Sir John McKenna.

He stood up and said. “Thank you Richard. Now I knew Leon better than most of you. We performed together many times and I know he would not like you to be sad at his passing. Something he really enjoyed was what is often called 'Parlour Poetry', that is poetry dating back to the Victorian era, long before television and even radio, when people used to entertain themselves by playing the piano, singing or reciting poetry. This was one of his favourites 'The Girl on the Stairs' by Lawrence Hanray which goes something like this:

'I've kissed many girls under many conditions,
I've kissed them both with and without their permissions,
But never a one for a moment compares
With the girl that I kissed, in the dark, on the stairs.

It was just round the corner, a sudden sharp turning,
They'd kindly forgotten to leave a light burning,
We met with a bump, taken quite unawares,
And somehow or other we kissed on the stairs.

Was she fair? Was she dark? Was she mistress or maid?
An innocent schoolgirl or heartbreaking jade?
I've never discovered but who on earth cares?
Enough that we met and we kissed on the stairs.

She didn't say yes and she didn't say no,
But she clung pretty close and she didn't let go.
Now a lover who wins is a lover who dares,
So I kissed her again on the lips, and the stairs.

Her lips were so soft and her skin oh so creamy,
While, as to her eyes well I'll bet they were dreamy,
But of course total darkness your vision impairs,
You don't want to look when you kiss on the stairs.

For a moment or so, she clung pretty tight,
Then up on the landing some fool struck a light,
And swearing the softest of feminine swears,
She kissed me and left me alone on the stairs.

Oh it's long long ago and I'm fast growing old,
And girls nowadays leave me out in the cold,
So I just close my eyes to such mundane affairs,
And fancy I'm kissing...that girl on the stairs.'

As you can imagine that brought the house down. We cheered and clapped and drummed our feet on the floor, and other patrons looked at these rowdy Brits, but we didn't care. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful tour.

The next morning we packed our bags and were driven to the airport for our flight home. Some of us were nursing sore heads although I'm glad to say that I wasn't among them. I did feel a little dehydrated, but after plenty of water to drink I felt fine.

I sat next to Richard on the flight home as Cassie wanted to sit next to Gerry. I wondered if their romance would outlive the tour, but really it was none of my business. I knew that it was quite possible than in a month or so they might find themselves working on opposite sides of the country. No wonder so many relationships in the theatrical world don't last very long.

After landing at Heathrow the group started to disperse. Some of us took the bus back to Stratford while others departed to locations where they had work lined up, or perhaps just to visit their families. I realised that I would have to get used to experiencing the sadness of parting after being with an 'extended family' for over a month.

Richard was going to Swansea to see his family. We had a farewell hug and promised to stay in touch. Cassie, Jemma, Scarlett and I sat in a row across the bus and chatted as we rode back to Stratford with the crew and some other members of the cast. Gerry wasn't among them and I wondered where he had gone. Somewhat to my surprise Jemma said she was thinking of auditioning for Desdemona in 'Othello'. I don't think she knew that I had my eye on that part too, so I said nothing. If it came to a contest between the two of us, I fancied that my experience would be the deciding factor.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 36   My Operation

The train pulled smoothly out of York Station. I smiled, a trifle nervously if I'm honest, at Mum who was sitting opposite me. She like to travel 'with her back to the engine', whereas I like to face the way I was travelling. I had suggested to Mum that she come to London when I was about to leave the clinic after my operation, but she offered to come with me, pointing out that otherwise I wouldn't get any visitors. I was glad to take up her offer. Big cities can be lonely places.

After arriving back from our overseas tour, most of the company had been taken back to Stratford by bus. One of the exceptions was Richard who was going to Swansea to see his family. I said 'au revoir' and hoped we would have the chance to work together again. Our farewell kiss was more than friendly, and I wondered if I should have taken more advantage of our nights together, but decided that in the circumstances I had done the right thing.

I had returned to my flat for a couple of days, and Dale was pleased to see me and insisted on hearing all about the trip. The flat looked very tidy and I suspected that Frank had been there more than once while I was away. I checked over the bills and arranged to pay my share that was owing. Dale knew about my operation of course and was not surprised when I told him I would stay a couple of days in Stratford and then drive to Bridchester before travelling to London with Mum. After surgery, I would be returning to Brid to convalesce.

“Do you expect to come back to Stratford for a while?” he asked.

“I hope so. There's another rôle coming up, Desdemona in 'Othello', that I'd really like to play, but of course I'm only one of a number of people going for it. If I don't get it, then I'll have to look around. I'm afraid that's an actor's life. Have you thought about what you would do if I have to leave the flat?”

“I suppose I could always look around for someone else to share with. I really don't want to go back home again,” he replied. From that reply I assumed that there was no chance of Frank coming to Stratford to live with him.

“Well, let's see what happens,” I said.

Two days later I had packed a suitcase and drove up to Brid. Mum was pleased to see me of course. We went to see Emma, David and the family. Elizabeth had grown noticeably bigger since I last saw her. David was busy with a new production, and for once he didn't need me to stand in! I had picked up a few presents during my world trip which were very well received and I promised to show the family some of my photos when I was back in Brid after my surgery. I didn't mention the operation in front of Penny. As far as she was concerned I had always been a girl and she was used to not seeing me for weeks at a time when I was working, so wouldn't even notice I had gone. She might wonder why I was home with Mum for an extended period of time, if so we would tell her that I'd had a little operation and was convalescing, or maybe just that I didn't have any work at that time, which of course was true.

I slept for most of the two hour journey and Mum woke me as the train pulled into Kings Cross station. I didn't fancy tackling the public transport system, so we took one of the famous London black cabs to the hotel where we were staying. The cab drivers are amazing, but of course, unlike the taxi drivers in many cities, they have to spend two or more years in learning 'The Knowledge' of all the London streets and landmarks and the quickest route to get from 'A' to'B'. It's the hardest test for a taxi driver anywhere in the world.

The hotel was only five minutes walk from the clinic where I was going to have my surgery. After checking in and unpacking some of the clothes I had brought but wouldn't need while an inpatient at the clinic, Mum and I walked there and I was formally admitted and given a number of checks and tests prior to my surgery the following day.

I had chosen to have a single room just because of the nature of my surgery. It was unlikely that anyone would recognise me, but I didn't want to take that risk. I had no concerns about the staff sticking to their confidentiality rules, but these didn't apply to other patients of course. My surgeon Mr Summers called by to make sure I was settled in alright, and the anaesthetist Dr Kate Reilly also came to perform some checks. All the staff were very nice and did their best to put me at my ease.

I don't know anyone who enjoys surgery, indeed someone who does is said to have Munchausen Syndrome which is a mental condition, so even though I was there of my own free will to have surgery, it was only natural that I felt a bit nervous and when I was offered some medication to help me sleep I was happy to accept it.

I was woken up very early the following morning. For some reason surgeons seem to start operating at the crack of dawn. I had had nothing to eat or drink since the previous evening of course, so had nothing else to do but watch the early morning news on the television and wait. The minutes ticked by and then a nurse came into the room to do my 'obs', tell me that I was first on the list and to supply a sedative to relax me. I also had to take off my nightdress and put on one of those 'back to front' gowns with nothing on underneath.

After a while I did begin to feel quite relaxed and a short time later a couple of orderlies came in to take me to theatre. They checked the name-tags around my wrist and ankle and asked me what surgery I was going to have. Then they helped me slide over onto a trolley, covered me with a blanket and I lay on my back, watching the lights in the ceiling pass by as we moved swiftly down the corridors, rounded a couple of bends and then entered the operating theatre with its massive lights suspended from the ceiling. Once again I was helped to slide over onto the operating table.

“Hello Harriet,” said a female voice. It was Doctor Reilly although she was hard to recognise in her surgical garb. “How are you feeling?”

“Rather sleepy,” I replied.

“Well I'm going to put a needle into the back of your hand and then put you fully to sleep,” she said.

Another gowned and masked figure came into view. “Hello Harriet, it's Doctor Summers. Can you tell me what surgery you are having today?”

“Good morning doctor. It's Gender Confirmation Surgery,” I replied.

As I was speaking, Dr Reilly inserted the needle into the back of my hand which stung a bit and then attached an intravenous line. Then she picked up a syringe to attach to a port on the line.

“Now I want you to count out loud down from ten for me please Harriet.”

“Ten, nine, eight,” 'Good grief it's not working,' I thought. “Seven...”

I slowly opened my eyes. A nurse was looking down at me.

“Hello Harriet. You're in Recovery. The surgery went very well. How are you feeling?”

“My mouth is so dry,” I croaked.

“That's alright. I'll raise you up a bit in a minute and give you some ice to suck,” she said.

She was as good as her word. As the ice melted in my mouth I began to feel better although still slightly 'other-worldly'. As time passed I began to feel more 'with it', and watched the comings and goings of the staff and other patients on their trollies. After a while and several more checks of my 'obs', I was told I was to be taken back to my room. The same orderlies appeared again and in no time I was back in my bed. When I was left alone for a minute I cautiously checked out the area of my surgery but of course all I encountered were bandages. I think I fell asleep again because when I was next aware of anything I realised that Mum was sitting beside the bed and holding my hand.

“How are you feeling darling?” she said.

“I'm so tired Mum, but I'm glad it's over. It was something I had to do. I couldn't have stayed the way I was.”

“I know, darling,” said Mum. “I'm so proud of you. I'll let you rest now and come back to see you this evening.”

The second day after my surgery I was sitting out of bed and taking a few cautious steps, and as each day passed I became more mobile.

The following days were not pleasant, and since there are numerous descriptions on-line of GCS and what happens afterwards, it's hardly necessary for me to add to the number. Fortunately pain management is excellent nowadays and so the discomfort was bearable. Mum was very good and came in to see me twice a day. One day Frank arrived, bearing a large bunch of flowers. Mum was there but said she was happy to go and do some shopping now that I had another visitor.

Dale had told Frank that I had had my surgery and I didn't mind as it was really nice to see him. He told me that he had stayed in Stratford a few times while I had been away, and of course he wanted to know all about my trip, so it was a pleasant distraction to tell him about it. Eventually my eyelids started to droop and he tactfully said he could see I was getting tired and that he would go. He kissed me on the cheek and promised to ring in a few days and see how I was going.

On the seventh day Dr Summers came to examine me again. “You are making excellent progress Harriet. If you promise to take things easy, you can leave the clinic tomorrow and go back to your hotel. You'll need to come back every day or so for more check-ups, and all being well you can go home in about another week.”

This was good news indeed. The following morning after being given the 'all clear', I rang Mum and asked her to bring some clothes for me to wear while leaving the clinic. I thanked all the staff for their care, fixed up the paperwork and settled my account. Then I was accompanied to the front door where a taxi was waiting for us. Going outside for the first time in over a week, the noise of the traffic and a chilly wind on my face was quite a contrast to the cocoon of the clinic and its constant air temperature. I could understand why some people who have to spend a prolonged period of time in hospital find that they don't want to leave the secure and comfortable environment.

We soon arrived at our hotel and silly though it seems, I felt tired and needed a rest. Mum was very understanding, and was happy to sit in an armchair and continue with her knitting.

As arranged, during the following days I had to return to the clinic for check-ups. The first couple of times we went by taxi, but as the days passed I was feeling better and I walked there, albeit slowly, for the final visit. Dr Summers said he was very happy with my progress and that I could now return home to Bridchester, although I would need some more check-ups with my local G.P. while I convalesced for about another six weeks.

The next day we took the train back to Bridchester. I was very tired by the time we arrived and had to have a sleep even though I had dozed for much of the journey. Emma came over to see me the next day and brought Elizabeth with her. We decided that if Penny asked, we would just say that I had to have a small operation on my tummy, but was alright and would soon be better. If she didn't ask then the story would be that I was having a holiday away from acting for a while. Both stories were essentially true.

Day by day my strength returned and I began to feel my old self, in fact I was wishing I could get back to work. I had read through 'Othello' several times and had almost completely memorised the rôle of Desdemona. I had to tell myself not to get over-confident that I would get the part. I had been very fortunate so far, but I knew that even the best actors had times when they were 'resting'.

I'm sure Mum was really enjoying having me stay with her, and I was enjoying it too. I knew that when I finally had to leave I would probably feel guilty doing so, but there was no way that I could stay in Bridchester and pursue to sort of career that I wanted.

One afternoon, I was sittiing the armchair reading a book and Mum was knitting something for Elizabeth, when the front door bell rang. I was going to get up, but Mum beat me to it and went to the door. When she came back into the room she had a strange expression on her face.

“Harriet, darling, you have a visitor,” she 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, also Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 37   The visitor

The first thing that appeared in the doorway behind Mum was a large bunch of flowers. This was followed by... “Reggie!” I exclaimed. I very nearly said "What are you doing here?" but fortunately replaced it with “How nice to see you.”

“Hello Harriet. I thought I'd call in to see how you are. These are for you and you Mrs Stow of course” he said, offering the flowers as he walked over and kissed me on the cheek.

“How lovely! Thank you so much Reggie.”

Ever the diplomat, Mum said “They're beautiful Reggie, how thoughtful of you. I'll put them in some water if you like. Harriet, now you have someone to sit with you, I think I'll go and do that shopping I spoke about.”

Of course she hadn't really spoken about shopping at all, but no doubt thought that I would want to see Reggie alone in light of all that had happened. She put on her coat and told us that she'd be back in about an hour.

“Why don't you offer Reggie a cup of tea darling? There's the cake I baked yesterday too.”

Then she was gone. I got up to make the tea but Reggie could see that I was still a bit unsteady on my feet and insisted on making it. I couldn't help thinking of the last time the two of us had been together and he'd told me about Sophie. I wondered if there was any more bad news coming.

When we were both sitting with a cup of tea each and a plate with a piece of Mum's cake, I asked the question that had been bugging me.

“How did you manage to come to Brid, Reggie. Won't Sophie (I nearly choked on her name) wonder where you are?”

“I borrowed a car from one of the other students. Sophie's gone to Blackpool for a few days. Her cousin has come over from America on a visit and is staying with her parents. I have some assignments to complete, so I said I'd see them at the weekend. It was really an excuse to come and see you; emails are all very well, but they're not the same as seeing someone face to face, and it's been ages since I did that.”

“Well, it's wonderful to see you and you are looking well; all that sport must be doing you good,” I said.

Reggie laughed. “Yes plenty of fresh air, but I really wanted to see how you were after your operation. I must say you are looking quite well.”

“I feel well too, but I still get a bit tired, so I often have a nap in the afternoon,” I said.

”Maybe I shouldn't stay long,” said Reggie.

“Oh no, please stay as long as you like,” I replied. “I'm really feeling quite bright today. Each day I feel a bit better.”

Just then my mobile phone began to ring. I picked it up and saw it was Richard Jenkins. Talk about bad timing! I just stared at the screen.

“Aren't you going to answer it?” said Reggie. “Or is it a boyfriend?”

I could feel myself blushing and inwardly cursed.

“It's Richard Jenkins who played 'Romeo'. He's probably ringing to see how I am,” I said.

“Well I think you should answer,” said Reggie.

I would have preferred to take the call privately, but to do so would make it look like I had something to hide, so I picked up the phone and pressed the 'answer' button.

“Hi Richard, how are you?”

“I'm fine,” he replied. “More to the point, how are you?”

“I feel better every day.”

“Excellent. I didn't just ring to see how you are. I'm wondering if you might be interested in auditioning for a bit of work? I've been given a rôle in a new production of Dylan Thomas's 'Under Milk Wood' which is being made for television by Mayday Productions. How's your Welsh accent coming along?”

“Indeed to goodness boyo, and me brought up in Llanelly?” I replied, doing my best impression of a Welsh accent.

Richard laughed. “Not bad, not bad at all. There's a small part in the play, she's called 'Mae Rose Cottage'. They'll be auditioning for it in Swansea in two weeks. Do you think you could make it?”

“I think I could,” I replied. “I'll get in touch with my agent and he'll get the details for me.”

“Excellent! Look, I have to fly, but I'll get back in touch soon. Bye for now,” and he hung up.

Reggie looked at me. “What was the Welsh accent all about?”

I explained to him about the part. “It's only small, but if I get it I'll be seen by millions of people, and that's important in my line of work. If you don't appear on a regular basis, then before long you can be appearing on one of those 'Whatever happened to...?' shows.”

Reggie laughed. “It really is a very different lifestyle to a nine to five job, but I couldn't imagine you doing anything else.”

I looked at him seriously. “I'd gladly give it up if it meant we could be together.”

He looked equally serious when he replied. “And I wouldn't let you give it up. It's a big part of your life and after a while you'd start to resent the fact that you'd given it up and so resent me. Oh you wouldn't mean to, but nevertheless you would.”

I stood up, walked over and kissed him on the lips, not a passionate kiss but a loving one.

“Reggie, you are the smartest man I know, and one day I'm going to marry you,” I said.

He smiled. “That's a promise I'm going to hold you to, but there's something I wanted to say to you. Until that day arrives I won't be upset if you go out with other men. I don't want you to be lonely.”

“I can't see myself doing that,” I replied. “But thank you for your confidence in me.”

“So where do you have to go to audition for the part?" he asked, and when I told him it was Swansea, he said: “Why don't you stay with my Aunt Jane? I'm sure she'd love to see you again.”

I thought back to the last time I had seen her which was at Reggie's wedding, and wondered if that was true.

“I'll give her a ring and if it's alright with her, then I'm sure she'll ring you,” he said, so we left it at that.

We chatted for about another hour and it was only when Mum returned from her shopping that Reggie stood up and said that he should get going.

“It was lovely of you to call Reggie. Please call again if you're in Brid. I can't guarantee Harriet will be here, she will probably be acting somewhere around the country, if not the world,” said Mum.

“Well, she's getting much in demand and that's what you want if you're an actor or actress,” said Reggie.

I got up then and walked with him to the door.

“Thank you so much for calling Reggie. It's been a real boost for me. I'll keep in touch by email and let you know what I'm doing.”

I kissed him on the cheek and then watched the car as he drove away, before going back into the house.

“Well that was a surprise,” said Mum. I wondered if she thought I knew Reggie was coming to see me.

“It was a surprise for me too, but a very nice one,” I replied. “I just hope Sophie doesn't find out.”

That evening I had another call from Richard Jenkins.

“There's something I forgot to tell you about 'Mae Rose Cottage'. There's a sequence where she is topless and draws lipstick rings around her nipples.”

“Oh!” I responded.

“Do you want to think about it and let me know if you're still interested?” he asked.

“Yes, I'll do that,” I relied. “What part are you playing?”

“'Nogood Boyo', how‘s that for a name?” he laughed and rang off.

This was the first time I'd been asked if I'd perform semi-naked. I wondered how Mum would feel about it, and decided to talk to Emma, so I went to my room to talk to her in private.

I had looked up the text and read it out to her, in my Welsh accent of course:

'SECOND VOICE

Down in the dusking town, Mae Rose Cottage, still lying in
clover, listens to the nannygoats chew, draws circles of
lipstick round her nipples.

MAE ROSE COTTAGE

“I'm fast. I'm a bad lot. God will strike me dead. I'm
seventeen. I'll go to hell,”

SECOND VOICE

she tells the goats.

MAE ROSE COTTAGE

“You just wait. I'll sin till I blow up!”

SECOND VOICE

She lies deep, waiting for the worst to happen; the goats
champ and sneer.'

Emma laughed. “That's a great Welsh accent. Has Richard been teaching you?”

Thanks goodness she couldn't see me blush.

“Yes, he's been giving me some coaching; but how do you think Mam will feel about her daughter being topless for all to see?”
Emma couldn't stop laughing. ”Mam now is it? I'll give you this Harriet, when you take on a rôle you really get into it. I don't think Mum will mind. After all you do have real breasts now and it is a classic play.”

“So it's not gratuitous nudity then?” I said, dropping my Welsh accent.

“Not at all. If I were you I'd go for it. By the way, is Richard in the production too?”

“Yes he is,” I hesitated. “He's playing a small part called 'Nogood Boyo'.”

Emma shrieked with laughter. “Oh this is priceless. Do the two characters meet up?”

“No they don't,” I replied, rather primly, and of course that set her off again.

“Alright, I won't tease you; you're a big girl now and you have to make your own decisions, but I know what I'd do.”

“Thanks Emma, you're a chum,” I replied. We chatted on for a few minutes about the family and theatre before we hung up.

I went out into the sitting room where Mum was knitting and half paying attention to the television.

“Mum, there's something I have to tell you. Have you ever seen 'Under Milk Wood'?”

“Yes darling, that wonderful version with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, why do you ask?”

“Well there's going to be a new production for television and there's a chance I might be offered a small part in it. Do you remember someone called 'Mae Rose Cottage'?”

“The name rings a faint bell,” she replied.

“Well it's a very small part but at one point she's looking after the goats and she draws lipstick rings around her nipples.”

Mum laughed. “Oh yes, I remember it now; and that's the part you might be playing?”

“Well, yes. What do you think about me doing that?”

“Well, you're a big girl now and it's your decision. I won't be shocked if that's what you're thinking.”

“Emma said more or less the same thing,” I replied. “Well, if no-one's going to be shocked, then I'll audition for it.”

Reggie was right. A few days after his visit, I received a phone call from his Aunt Jane, inviting me to stay with her. I wanted to see her again, and anyway it would seem rude to refuse, so I gave her the details of my arrival. When she heard that I was coming by train, she said she would meet me at the railway station.

Two weeks later I packed my bags and kissed Mum goodbye. I had explained to her that driving all the way to Swansea was too far, so instead I was going to drive to Stratford and take the train from there the following day. It would give me an opportunity to see Dale and let him know what was happening.

My drive to Stratford was uneventful, and it was good to catch up with Dale again. Stratford felt like home to me and I knew I would be very disappointed if I had to leave, but the career I had chosen would make it inevitable at some stage.

The next morning, he kindly drove me to the railway station where I took the train. First I travelled to Birmingham Moor Street, where I had to walk to New Street for the second leg to Newport, and then change trains again for the final leg to Swansea. The whole trip took about four and a half hours, but I took a book with me to pass the time. Aunt Jane was waiting for me at the station as she had promised and it was good to see her again. We hugged, and then walked to her car.

“How long are you here for?” she asked.

“My audition is tomorrow, but I've allowed two days just in case they ask me back. That happens sometimes.”

Once we reached Aunt Jane's house, I took my suitcase upstairs to the bedroom she had allocated me. It wasn't the same one that Reggie and I had used, and I suspected she was being diplomatic, not wishing to bring back memories of that previous trip.

I knew it was likely that she would want to whole story of why Reggie had married Sophie, and after much thought I had decided to tell her all that had happened, including the implied threat to me. The one thing I didn't feel comfortable about telling her was Reggie's vasectomy, and I knew that she would wonder if Sophie might become pregnant again and what effect this would have on his plan to eventually divorce her. Fortunately she didn't put this scenario to me which of course doesn't mean that she hadn't thought of it. Perhaps she suspected that she hadn't heard the whole story after all.

“That was a truly amazing sacrifice he made, marrying a woman he doesn't love,” she said.

“Yes it was, and I'll be forever grateful to him for that,” I replied. “One day I hope he will marry a woman he does love.”

We had a very nice tea, and after a quiet evening together, watching television, I retired early so that I would be fresh for the audition in the morning.

The following morning I took the bus to town and presented myself at a church hall with stage which the production company had hired for the auditions. There were a lot of people milling around, none of whom I knew. From memory there are about thirty-seven characters in “Under Milk Wood” and obviously many of the parts were being auditioned for that day.

I walked up to the desk where a few people were sitting and a sign said 'Registration'. I gave them my name and the part for which I was auditioning.

“Ah yes, Miss Stow. Three young women are auditioning for 'Mae Rose Cottage'. The other two are Ceridwen Zenia Jenkins and Angharad Jones. They're both sitting over there. Perhaps you might like to introduce yourself to them?”

'Oh dear, they're obviously both Welsh. I don't have a hope. I might as well leave now,' I thought, but I still went over and introduced myself.

They were both very pretty young women. Ceridwen was blonde and Angharad was a brunette. “Call me 'Ang',” she said. “Everyone does”.

“I feel a bit of a fraud competing with you two,” I said.

“Nonsense,” replied Ceridwen. “So long as you can do a passable Welsh accent you'll be fine. What rôles have you been doing recently?”

I felt a bit embarrassed as it sounded like showing off.

“Oh I've been performing at Stratford,” I replied diffidently.

Of course they wheedled out of me my recent rôles and the tour and seemed impressed.

“With a CV like that, you stand as good a chance as any of us,” said Ang.

Just then the Director Dafydd Rhys Jones appeared on the stage. He thanked us for coming and said that they would start on the auditions right away. Several of the other parts were auditioned for first and eventually he came to 'Mae Rose Cottage'. I was called up first.

I was asked to go through my part with help from other players. I did it with my best Welsh accent, and they seemed happy enough but then asked if I could recite something else with a Welsh accent, so I suggested the Reverend Eli Jenkins' evening prayer from 'Under Milk Wood'.

'Every morning when I wake,
Dear Lord, a little prayer I make,
O please to keep Thy lovely eye
On all poor creatures born to die.

And every evening at sun-down
I ask a blessing on the town,
For whether we last the night or no
I'm sure is always touch-and-go.

We are not wholly bad or good
Who live our lives under Milk Wood,
And Thou, I know, wilt be the first
To see our best side, not our worst.

O let us see another day!
Bless us all this night, I pray,
And to the sun we all will bow
And say, good-bye - but just for now!'

To my surprise there was a ripple of applause from the people waiting to audition. I blushed and smiled before leaving the stage to the standard acknowledgment “Thank you, we'll let you know.”

I sat down and watched Ceridwen and Ang audition, and they did very well, so well in fact that I wondered again what I was doing there. Then someone sat down beside me. I turned to see who it was.

“Richard!” I whispered. “What are you doing here? You've already secured your part.”

“I'm visiting my family and just wanted to see how things were going. You were very good, especially the accent,” he whispered back.

“I had a good teacher,” I murmured.

“How about a coffee?”

“Yes I'd like that,” I said. My audition was over and I didn't hold out much hope, but it had been worth a try.

We walked down the road a few yards until we came to a small café which Richard assured me made a good cup of coffee. We were sitting at a table by the window chatting when something made me look out of the window. There was Reggie's Aunt Jane looking in at the two of us with a very surprised look on her face.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 38   Another audition

There are times in everyone's life when you have to make a split-second decision and hope to goodness it's the right one. If I had pretended not to see Aunt Jane, or worse still, looked embarrassed as though I had been 'caught out', the ramifications might have been disastrous. Instead, I smiled broadly at her and beckoned her inside the café. There are times when being an actress comes in very handy! She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then did as I had indicated.

As she approached our table we both stood up.

“Aunt Jane, may I introduce Richard Jenkins? He played opposite me in 'Romeo and Juliet'. Richard, this is Mrs Walpole, my friend Reggie's aunt. I'm staying with her while I went to the audition.”

Richard smiled. “I'm very pleased to meet you Mrs Walpole. May I get you a cup of tea or coffee?”

Aunt Jane seemed to have recovered from her shock because she said “Tea would be nice, white, no sugar.”

While Richard was getting the tea, she sat down and I said “Richard's parents live in Swansea and he's visiting them. He's been given a part in 'Under Milk Wood” and happened to call in to the hall while the auditions are taking place.”

Somehow Aunt Jane kept her eyebrows under control, but I suspect it was an effort!

Richard arrived back with the tea and also a small plate of Welsh cakes.

“Richard didn't tell me that there were two Welsh girls going for the part for which I auditioned, so I don't hold out much hope of getting it,” I continued.

“Well I didn't know that,” he responded. “But if you've seen Harriet perform, Mrs Walpole, you'll know that she's good with accents, so I don't think that will go against her.”

Aunt Jane responded “Yes I have seen Harriet perform, but I'm sorry I didn't get to see 'Romeo and Juliet'. I understand it went very well and you both toured overseas with it.”

“Yes, it was an amazing experience to visit all those countries, and I actually got to meet my Aunt Peggy and her family in Melbourne,” I said. I nearly added 'They saw me in 'Romeo and Juliet' and also in 'Twelfth Night'.' but was afraid that might sound like boasting, so I didn't say it. I was also afraid that I was starting to babble.

“Reggie told me you were in 'Twelfth Night” as well,” said Aunt Jane.

“Not me, just Harriet,” said Richard. “She's got an amazing memory as you know.”

I blushed at this compliment. After all, I was just lucky that way. We chatted a bit longer until Richard excused himself, saying that his parents were expecting him home.

After he had left, Aunt Jane said “He's a very handsome lad”.

“Yes he is,” I replied. “I've had more than one person strongly imply that our 'Romeo and Juliet' relationship extends beyond the stage. I have some trouble convincing them otherwise.”

Aunt Jane laughed. “Well you could be excused if you fell for him, especially in your present situation with Reggie married and likely to remain so for some time.”

My face fell at that remark and Aunt Jane was instantly remorseful. “I'm sorry my dear, that was a rather tactless thing to say. So how did the audition go?”

“Well as I said to Richard, there were two genuine Welsh actresses going for the part, so I think my chances are slim at best. I'll have to get used to not getting every part I audition for.”

“Well, at least you tried, and your name is getting known. I imagine that's very important in the acting profession.”

“Indeed it is,” I responded.

That evening I took Aunt Jane out to dinner as a 'thank-you' for letting me stay with her. While we were eating my telephone rang. I had forgotten to switch it to 'silent' and was about to do so when I glanced at the screen and saw that it was Dafydd Rhys Jones the director. When I told Aunt Jane she said I had better take the call.

“Hello Harriet, I'm sorry to bother you this evening but I have one question to ask you. Are you aware that you are required to be topless for your last scene in 'Under Milk Wood'?”

“Yes, I do know that, and I'm prepared to do it,” I replied.

“Good. In that case I'm happy to offer you the part of Mae Rose Cottage,” he said.

I was stunned and for a few seconds was silent.

“Hello?” he said. “Are you still there?”

“Err, yes. Sorry Mr Rhys Jones. I'm very happy to accept the role,” I said.

“Excellent,” he replied. “We'll be in touch when we want you. It will be in a few month's time and probably only two or three day's work. We're still finalising locations. I look forward to working with you.”

Although she could only hear my side of the conversation, it was obvious what had transpired.

“Congratulations!” said Aunt Jane.

“I can hardly believe it,” I replied. “I was up against two genuine Welsh girls.”

It wasn't until a few years later that I found out that I was the second choice for the rôle. It had been offered to Ceridwen Jenkins, but she had encountered a slight problem. Her parents were strict chapel-goers and somehow they had found out about the 'topless' sequence and were not exactly pleased. They made this very clear to Ceridwen and she decided that since it was only a small rôle, it wasn't worth starting a family feud over it, so she had declined the offer.

The next morning Aunt Jane drove me to the railway station where I thanked her and boarded the train back to Stratford. On the way I telephoned my agent and told him of my success in securing the part. He also wished me luck in securing the part of Desdemona which I would be auditioning for in a week's time. By now I was getting quite confident in auditioning for parts since my success rate was so high, but of course there is that old saying “Pride goeth before a fall” and perhaps I should have kept it in mind.

The following week was a quiet one. I checked over the 'Othello' script, especially the scene which I had been asked to prepare for the audition. I hadn't yet heard who was playing the title rôle, so phoned one of my contacts at the theatre and learned that it was Anthony Leicester, a very talented coloured actor. I was not surprised as the days of having a white actor make up for such rôles was long gone. For example, I knew that Sir Laurence Olivier had performed in 'blackface' as Othello in the 1960s but he wouldn't have got the part nowadays.

The day of the audition finally arrived and I presented myself at the theatre. I was so familiar with acting there now that it helped me to relax. I was not totally surprised to see Jemma Collier among the five other actresses auditioning for the rôle since on our return from the overseas tour, she had mentioned that she might try for it. I greeted her cordially and wished her luck. I had been impressed with how quickly she memorised rôles and how much her acting technique had been improving but I hardly considered her suitable to take on a part like Desdemona this early in her career. I quickly discounted her as a rival for the part and concentrated on the other young women who were all new to me.

The Director of the play certainly was a surprise. Her name was Hannah Barrow and this was the first I had heard of her. I don't know why but I had assumed that a man would direct a play like 'Othello', so the appearance of Ms Barrow threw me a bit. I suppose that like many female actresses interacting with male directors, I was used to using my 'feminine wiles', in the subtlest possible way of course, in the hope of gaining an advantage. Obviously in this instance it wasn't going to work.

“Thank you for coming, ladies,” said Ms Barrow. “We are fortunate in that Anthony Leicester who is to play 'Othello' is still in town and had kindly agreed to attend this audition to play the scene with you.”

There was a ripple of applause when Anthony walked on stage. He is a charming man and put everyone at their ease when the auditions began.

I was the fourth woman to audition, and watching the first three I decided that they were not a threat. Then it came my turn. The excerpt was from Act Three Scene Three where there is interaction between Desdemona and Othello after Cassio has begged her to intercede with her husband on his behalf.

DESDEMONA
How now, my lord!
I have been talking with a suitor here,
A man that languishes in your displeasure.

OTHELLO
Who is't you mean?

DESDEMONA
Why, your lieutenant, Cassio. Good my lord,
If I have any grace or power to move you,
His present reconciliation take;
For if he be not one that truly loves you,
That errs in ignorance and not in cunning,
I have no judgment in an honest face:
I prithee, call him back.

Most of the exchanges were fairly brief but Desdemona has a couple of relatively long speeches. I felt that I had handled the scene well enough and was pleased with myself as I left the stage. Anthony would certainly be a wonderful partner on stage.

I sat in the stalls to watch Jemma's audition, and for the first time I began to feel a bit uncertain about getting the part. She had certainly improved a lot since I last saw her perform, and it would be ironic if the tips that Cassie and I had given her resulted in her getting the part I had set my heart upon. I tried to tell myself that I was worrying unnecessarily, but I wasn't convinced.

At the end of the audition we were thanked and told the standard 'We'll let you know', and with that I left the theatre and returned to the flat to await the call. That is always the hardest part.

It was early evening when my phone finally rang and my heart started to pound as I answered it.

“Miss Stow? It's Hannah Barrow here. First I'd like to thank you for attending the audition today. You were very impressive and having heard about your recent performances I can understand why you are considered one of the best young Shakespearean actresses in Britain.” She paused, and I felt my heart sinking. If I had the part, why this preamble?

“As the Director of 'Othello', it is my responsibility to chose the actress whom I think best fits my interpretation of the play. I know you will be disappointed, but in this instance I decided to offer the part to Jemma Collier and she has accepted.”

My heart sank, but Hannah hadn't finished. “However, there is another part in the play which I think you would fill perfectly, so although you didn't audition for it, I have decided to offer you the rôle of Emilia. If you would like some time to think about that I can give you until tomorrow.”

Emilia is the villain Iago's wife and Desdemona's attendant and is quite a strong character, more so than Desdemona. While Emilia is dutiful towards her husband she is still something of a feminist which would have been rare in Elizabethan England. I was becoming adept at making quick decisions and this was another moment for one.

“Thank you very much for offering me the part of Emilia, Miss Barrow, I am happy to accept it.”

“Excellent. I look forward to working with you. I understand you know Jemma Collier?”

“Yes, she was the understudy for Juliet when Cassie Good and I performed it recently.”

“She spoke very highly of you and how much you and Cassie helped her. I'm sure she'll be pleased to be working with you again.”

“I shall ring her up and congratulate her,” I said.

When I put the phone down I realised how hard I had been clenching the receiver and that my heart was still pounding.
I waited a full five minutes before I picked up the phone again and dialled Jemma's number. During that time I started off by thinking that Hannah had made a mistake by giving the part to a relatively inexperienced actress when there was someone far more suitable (namely me) to fill the rôle. But then I had second thoughts. Desdemona is a rather immature young woman, whereas Emilia is slightly older and far more mature. Perhaps Hannah was right after all in her casting. The more I thought about it, the more I had to agree with her.

“Hello Jemma, it's Harriet here, how are you?”

“Err, fine thank you Harriet,” she sounded very nervous. Did she think I was going to snap at her?

“I just rang to congratulate you on getting the part of Desdemona. I know you will perform it very well,” I said.

There was a pause and then she said “You're not mad at me because I got it? I know that you wanted to play it.”

“Jemma, there's something you have to learn about the stage. It's just like professional sports people. You can be friends with someone off the stage or arena, but when it comes to an actual contest then everyone tries their hardest to win and there can only be one winner. Sure I would have liked to play the part, but I'm sure you'll be excellent. Anyway I have been offered the part of Emilia so we will be acting together. I'll look forward to that.”.

The relief in her voice was obvious. “Oh I'm so glad you said that Harriet. I was worrying so much how you would react when you heard the news.”

I laughed. “Well it's not the first time I didn't get a rôle I wanted and I'm sure it won't be the last. I look forward to seeing you when the rehearsals begin. In the meantime, I have some lines to learn.”

After we said our goodbyes and I put the phone down, I discovered that I really did feel better for handling Jemma the way I had. In a way I felt like her mentor, even though I didn't have a very long career behind me. In fact I was sure that I could be of more assistance to her and it was only right that I should help her as much as I could.

The weeks passed by until the rehearsals started. Part of the time I filled in by borrowing the Nagra recorder again from the sound technicians at the theatre, and recording more bible extracts for the minister in Bridchester as I had promised to do.

I had explained to Hannah about my small part in 'Under Milk Wood' and she assured me that I could have the few days off provided that shooting didn't occur once the season of 'Othello' started. I had an understudy of course, but that was only for emergencies.

A couple of weeks later the rehearsals started. I was so glad to be back on the stage that I knew so well. It had only been a couple of months, but I had missed it so much, and now here I was again on-stage and in another Shakespeare play.

That reminded me of something Aunt Peggy had said to me when I saw her in Melbourne.
“I was chatting on the phone to your Mum recently, and from what she told me you seem to be something of a 'Shakespeare tragic'.”

Misunderstanding her I replied “But I enjoy being in his comedies too.”

She laughed. “I guess it's an Aussie expression, but by 'tragic' I mean you are very keen on Shakespeare. Former Prime Minister Bob Menzies was a 'cricket tragic'. He always tried to make his visits to the Old Country co-incide with a test match. John Howard, our current PM is a bit like that too.”

By now I was laughing too. “Well I have to admit you're right, I am a 'Shakespeare tragic', and proud to be one.”

At the start of the rehearsals only Anthony, Jemma and I were 'off book' from the start. Anthony had played 'OthelIo' before, so it was to be expected of him, but I think Hannah was quite impressed that her two female leads also knew their parts by heart. I had a feeling that some of the other cast members felt under pressure and weren't too happy about it.

As I expected, Hannah turned out to be a very good director. She treated us like the professionals we were, and her suggestions were always constructive and added to the performance. I had a good feeling about the production.

Every week I made a point of ringing up Mum in Brid and having a chat. We talked about anything and everything. She told me how things were going up there and most of what I had to tell her was about the theatre. Apparently the minister was really pleased with the CDs of the bible recordings, which he loaned to parishioners who were unable to attend church, and the feedback from them had been very complimentary.

On this particular occasion I was on the point of ringing off when Mum said. “Harriet darling, yesterday I ran into Reggie's parents in town and they told me the news. I thought you might have mentioned it.”

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 39   Back to Wales

My heart thumped. “The news?”

“Oh my dear, I'm so sorry, I thought you knew. Reggie and Sophie are having another baby.”

I very nearly blurted out 'But that's impossible' but fortunately stopped myself in time.

“No, I didn't know. Perhaps he didn't know how to tell me.”

“Well I expect he'll let you know eventually,” said Mum and then hurried to complete the conversation. I think she was rather embarrassed at having broken unwelcome news to me.

After I put the phone down, I stared into space for a minute. How on earth had this happened? Reggie told me he had a vasectomy. Had something gone wrong? Was it possible that it had somehow reversed?

I took out my laptop and logged on to see if there was any new message from Reggie but there was nothing. Mum was probably right, Reggie didn't know how to tell me because this changed everything.

As it happened, two days later I went to see Dr Wilson, my local G.P., for my regular check-up. Everything was fine, but at the end of the consultation I asked if she could answer a query that I had.

“A married friend of mine had a vasectomy some time ago and told me that to his surprise, his wife is expecting another baby. How is this possible?”

“Well there are extremely rare instances of what is known as recanalisation where the vas deferens which delivers the sperm and was cut during the procedure, reconnects spontaneously. The man becomes fertile again, but usually with much less sperm than he had before which makes achieving pregnancy far more difficult,” she hesitated. “I wouldn't mention it but you'll probably think of it anyway. It may be that he is not the father.”

“Oh dear, that could lead to problems,” I said.

After I drove away from the surgery, I thought about what Dr Wilson had said. Of course Reggie couldn't tell Sophie about the vasectomy so his options might be to have a check to see if he was in fact fertile again. If he wasn't then he would still have to accept the baby as his. Either way, it meant that any chance of him divorcing Sophie in the near future had gone down the drain. My eyes began to fill with tears and I had to pull the car over as I couldn't see properly. It seemed that Reggie's vasectomy ploy had backfired spectacularly.

What really upset me though was that Reggie hadn't told me about the baby. What did he think I would say or do? I began to feel angry with him for the first time. Well two could play at that game. I decided to write him an email to tell him that I had been given the part of Emilia in 'Othello' but not mention that I knew about the baby, and see what was his response.

In the meantime I was starting to get worried about 'Under Milk Wood'. Hannah had made it clear that she didn't expect me to disappear for a couple of days once the season started, and with only a couple more weeks of rehearsals it was starting to look like there would be an unfortunate clash of productions. In retrospect I probably shouldn't have agreed to perform 'Mae Rose Cottage', and if I was honest with myself, Richard Jenkins was probably part of the attraction. Of course since our characters didn't meet, I might not even see him there.

I was at the point of ringing my agent to ask what I should do when I received a phone call from a young woman calling herself 'Sam', at Mayday Productions.

“Hi Harriet, I'm sorry we haven't been in touch before but the production is way behind schedule due to the rain in Wales, and we are working seven days a week to make up for lost time.”

'Rain in Wales? Who would have thought?' I murmured to myself.

“I know it's short notice,” she continued. “But would you be able to come down to Laugharne next weekend to shoot your scenes?”

“Yes I can,” I replied, thinking to myself that this would be perfect timing as we were not rehearsing in Stratford on weekends.

“Excellent! I wish all our talent were as accommodating. I'll book you a room in the Carpenters' Arms for Friday and Saturday night. Thanks so much Harriet, you're a star.” And with that she rang off. Now I had to find out how to get to Laugharne. By far the quickest way seemed to be for me to drive down. It would take about three and a half hours on the M5, M4 and A48, whereas it would take about twice that amount of time by train and bus.

The next day I told Hannah about my plans and she was happy with that.

“If the weather delays you and you have to stay there on Monday, just give me a call. We can manage one day without you.”

“Thank you Hannah, I appreciate that. Apparently they've already lost a lot of time due to bad weather.”

“Well, if they insist on shooting in Wales, what do they expect?” she laughed.

I packed my suitcase and drove to the theatre for rehearsal on Friday, and as soon as it was finished, I set off in 'Bluebird' for Laugharne. I did stop for a couple of breaks on the way, and arrived at Laugharne about nine o'clock in the evening. As I walked into the pub to register, someone with a familiar face rose from an armchair to greet me.

“Richard! I didn't expect to see you here.” 'Even though I hoped to' I said to myself.

He laughed. “Well I hope that isn't a disappointment to you.”

I felt myself blushing. “Of course not. Are you down here to shoot some scenes?”

“Of course, why else would I be here?” he said with a smile. I rather hoped it might be to see me, but I could hardly say so.

“I heard that a lot of time has been lost because of bad weather.”

“Tell me about it,” he replied. “We've shot all the internal scenes, but there's still external sequences which have been impossible to complete. Anyway, the forecast is good for this weekend, so let's keep our fingers crossed. Meanwhile, I had the kitchen keep some shepherd's pie to warm up for you as I guessed you'd be hungry when you arrived, and the kitchen's closed for orders now.”

“Oh Richard, that's so thoughful of you. I thought I'd have to manage with a sandwich, and you're right, I'm famished!”

I must confess it hadn't occurred to me to ask how he knew where I'd be staying and when I'd be arriving.

“Before I eat, I'd better let the Production Manager know that I've arrived,” I said, taking my phone out of my handbag.

“Paula Broadribb,” said a pleasant voice on the phone.

“Miss Broadribb, it's Harriet Stow. I rang to let you know I've arrived in Laugharne, and to ask you about tomorrow.”

“Welcome Harriet, and please call me Paula. It will be a busy day for you. Breakfast is at six-thirty and we've hired a couple of rooms there for dressing and make-up. Then you'll be taken by mini-bus to the location. We've lost so much time due to rain that last week when we had a few fine days, we set up a tent at the location of your scene with the nanny goats to keep the ground dry for you. We didn't want you lying on wet grass and getting a cold. I heard that you've got a part in 'Othello' at Stratford and they wouldn't want you sneezing through it and blaming us,” she laughed.

“I'm just going to have something to eat and then I'll have an early night,” I said.

“That's a good idea. See you tomorrow,” and with that she rang off.

“All set?” said Richard, and I assured him that I was. He kept me company while I ate. He had a couple of scenes still to do on Saturday or Sunday and then his work was complete. I knew that the whole production crew was very time-conscious, so was determined that I would be up and ready for breakfast at six-thirty as requested. Richard showed me to my room and we said goodnight. I set my alarm for five-thirty and went to bed.

I awoke to the patter of rain on the window. So much for the fine weather predicted. It was dark of course, 'bible-black' as Dylan Thomas wrote. I slipped out of bed, washed and dressed, and was downstairs for breakfast on the dot of six-thirty. Richard turned up a few minutes later.

“Good morning Richard, what happened to the good weather?” I said.

He laughed. “It's probably on the way.”

I glanced out of the window where it was starting to get light . “'A grey dawn breaking'” I murmured.

“What's that?” said Richard.

“John Masefield,” I replied. “You must have read “Sea Fever”, it's his most famous poem.”

Richard laughed. “I've never known anyone with a head so full of poetry,” he said.

Our breakfasts arrived. They were 'full Welsh breakfasts', Welsh bacon, sausages, eggs, a Penclawdd cockle and laverbread ('bara lawr' in Welsh), which is made from seaweed. Despite living in a seaside town, I had always avoided cockles but to do so now might be considered an insult to my Welsh hosts, so I skewered it on my fork, put it in my mouth, closed my eyes and swallowed. It tasted a bit salty but quite nice!

I explained to Richard what Paula had told me about keeping the ground dry for my scene. “But what happens if the rain doesn't stop? Maybe they'll cut Mae out of the play altogether?”

“They can't do that,” said Richard.

“It's been done before. Remember Olivier's film of Hamlet? Rosencrantz and Guildenstern don't even rate a mention.”

Just then a tall young woman entered the dining room, looked around and then walked towards me.

“Harriet? I'm Paula, how are you?”

“Fine thank you Paula, but I'm a bit worried about the weather.”

“I've been in touch with the weather bureau. It's supposed to clear by mid-morning.” She seemed very positive. “Anyway, we'll start by shooting your interior scene at a local farm house and by the time we've finished, hopefully the weather will have cleared. When you've finished your breakfast I'll take you to the room we've hired for costume and make-up and you can get ready.”

She was so cheerful that she started to lift my spirits. I finished my breakfast and followed her to the room set aside for the female cast members. I was introduced to the dressers and make-up artists and then she left me to to and discuss the shooting schedule with some of the other cast members. I was given a floral dress that buttoned down the front and told that while I could wear my bra for the time being I would have to remove it for the scene with the nanny goats, that was assuming that we could shoot it that day.

“Under Milk Wood” is unusual in that it was originally written as a radio play, 'A Play for Voices' as Dylan Thomas subtitled it. While the narrators, 'First Voice' and 'Second Voice' tie the script together, most of the scenes are very short and some, such as those for 'Mae Rose Cottage' consist of only one actor.

When I came out of the dressing room, having had my make-up done, the director
Dafydd Rhys Jones was waiting for me. I should mention here that his name 'Dafydd' is the Welsh version of 'David' and pronounced as follows: the 'a' as in 'dam', the 'f' as a 'v', the 'y' as the 'i' in pita, and the dd is a soft ‘th’ as in 'the' or 'seethe'. All this had been explained to me by Richard. Welsh is quite a complicated language, you have to learn how to pronounce the letters before learning the words.

“Thank you for coming here at short notice Harriet,” Dafydd said. “I expect they've told you we've lost a lot of time due to the weather, but thank goodness it seems to be clearing up today so I'm optimistic that we'll get your scenes shot. The first is an interior sequence in a local farmhouse bedroom, so if you're ready we'll drive there. It's only five minutes away.”

As we drove to the location, Dafydd explained that Mae's first appearance in the play is impossible to interpret visually, so they had edited the script. When we arrived at the farmhouse and entered the bedroom, the lights and camera were already set up.

“I want you to sit at the dressing table and look into the mirror as sexily as you can and speak very softly and slowly, drawing out the words in your best Welsh accent. I'll give you the cue from 'Second Voice' and we'll dub in the real voice in post production.”

I sat as he asked and gazed at my reflection in the mirror, hoping that my gaze was sexy enough.

Dafydd gave me the cue “Action. 'Mrs Rose Cottage's eldest, Mae, waits for Mister Right.'”

Then I spoke my line “Call me Dolores, like they do in the stories.”

“Cut,” said Dafydd. “Excellent, but I'd like you to try it again. Unbutton the top of your dress and lean forward to show your cleavage. I'd like you to speak in as seductive a voice as you can.”

Altogether I did the line five times before Dafydd pronounced himself satisfied, and that was that. Unfortunately, despite the forecast it was still raining, so I was told that we would try to get my other scene with the nanny goats shot the next day. In the meantime, they would be shooting a few interiors with other cast members, so I was dropped off back at the Carpenters' Arms while Dafydd and the rest of the crew headed off to another location. I can understand why directors prefer to shoot in a studio where they are not at the mercy of the weather.

A few hours later I sat in the bar drinking a lemon cordial and hoping the Richard would return soon. I had been to my room, had a shower and changed into a pretty dress. I wanted to look good for him. I felt almost a fraud taking the money for all I had achieved that day, about ten seconds of screen time. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that if I had the choice of acting on stage or in a film or television production, the stage would win every time. However I had to remind myself why I was doing it, and part of that was to get my face more well-known. If that meant baring my breasts, well that was a price I had decided I should pay.

About an hour later Richard and some of the crew arrived back.

“Hi Harriet, you're looking gorgeous. How did you go today?” he asked.

“A very productive day, about ten seconds worth in the can,” I replied.

He laughed. “Welcome to the wonderful world of television production. I think my contribution will run for about a minute. Anyway I'm starving. I'll get a drink and then we can order as soon as the kitchen opens. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” I replied. “Let's hope for fine weather tomorrow or I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I can stretch my leave to Monday if necessary, but after that I really have to get back to Stratford.”

“Well you may have to do the scene even if it's raining, but let's hope for the best.”

We went into the restaurant as soon as the kitchen opened and ordered our meal. I had Welsh lamb and Richard had a steak. He ordered a bottle of wine and I had a couple of glasses during the meal, something I rarely do. I don't use this as an excuse for what happened later, but perhaps it serves as an explanation. I was really enjoying myself chatting with Richard, and let's face it, flirting too.

With a slighty puzzled look on his face Richard said “There's something different about you Harriet, but I can't quite work out what it is.”

“Maybe it's because I'm happier now,” I replied.

“Why is that?” he said, and then the realisation dawned and he actually blushed, the first time I'd ever seen him do that. “Oh of course. You'll have to excuse a dumb male. It's just that I've never thought of you as anything other than a complete woman.”

I laughed “And that's exactly what I am now,” I replied.

It was at that moment that I realised that while I was as complete as I could ever be, there was one more thing I needed to do to complete my journey to full womanhood. When I had slept with Richard during our tour, that's all we had done, sleep, but now there was no longer a need to resist the temptation which he so obviously aroused in me, and which I hoped I aroused in him.

We had finished our meal and had a coffee when I said it was time for bed as I was hoping to get my part recorded the next day. We walked up the stairs together and when we stopped at my door we had what started out as a 'goodnight' kiss. However it rapidly became apparent to both of us that this was more like a prelude for what was to follow, and when I opened the door and drew him inside he was certainly not resisting.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 40   Mae Rose Cottage

We resumed our kiss, holding each other tight and it was very obvious to me that Richard was quite ready for the next step, as indeed was I.

As we started to undress I said “Please be gentle with me Richard, it's my first time.”

He looked down at me and smiled “Of course I will Harriet. I told you once before that I wouldn't do anything you didn't want, but now I believe you do want it.”

“Oh yes!” I replied.

I no longer felt the need to hide my body from him, and indeed enjoyed the way he was looking at me in such an admiring fashion. As he led me to the bed I frankly gazed at his body. He was an Adonis, a perfect man in every way, and I wanted him. When we lay on the bed and came together, it was everything I knew it would be and more, a man and a woman in a ritual as old as time. He skilfully took us both to the heights of ecstasy, and when we reached the climax of our love-making, a warm glow suffused my whole body as crying out with pleasure and every nerve-end tingling, I gave myself totally to him.

“Oh Richard!” I gasped “That was so wonderful.”

“You are wonderful Harriet, you truly are,” he replied, gasping for breath as we lay together, our hearts pounding.

We made love twice more that night and each was as perfect as the time before. It was very late when we finally went to sleep in each other's arms.

My alarm clock began to buzz at five o'clock. Richard slipped out of bed and began to quickly dress by the light of the bedside lamp. Then he leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips. “See you at breakfast,” he murmured and then he was gone, closing the door quietly behind him.

I lay snuggled up in bed for a while thinking about the night we had spent together. I felt like a real-life Mae Rose Cottage, with one significant difference - I had experienced what it was like to be with a man. I knew full well that my family would be surprised if not shocked if they learned that 'good girl' Harriet, who was so emphatic that she loved Reggie, had taken Richard to her bed. I don't know if they would have understood or accepted my reasons for doing so, but to me they were quite clear. Reggie was not available in the foreseable future and even if an opportunity arose, there was the small matter of him being married to Sophie. Even though she was in my eyes his 'awful wedded wife', it would not have seemed right to encourage him to cheat on her. Does that make sense? Perhaps not, but it was how I felt. Anyway, Reggie had given me implicit permission to spend time with other men, so why should I feel guilty?

As far as Richard was concerned, I was very fond of him and I knew the feeling was reciprocated. We never spoke of love, but we both knew how we felt about the other and what's more we were both single, so there was no impediment to us being lovers. You may wonder why I did not wait until such a time as Reggie was free and we could be together, but in my heart of hearts I didn't know if that would ever be possible. At that moment I needed to know that I was fully a woman in every way I could be. After that night, any lingering doubts I had were gone.

Richard was a masterful lover, gentle but strong and masculine. I knew I was not his first and indeed that was a positive in my eyes as I wanted to know that for him, being with me was exactly the same as with any other woman. I felt sure I would have detected the slightest hesitation on his part, but in fact there was none. If it sounds as though I used him, I can assure you that I did not. We had both wanted each other for quite a while, ever since we started playing 'Romeo and Juliet' together. Others had seen it and although we had both denied it, of course they were right. It just required the little matter of my surgery to make it possible.

Time was passing, so I got out of bed, had my shower, dressed and walked downstairs to the dining room. It was a few minutes past six-thirty and Richard was the only one there, seated at a table for two. I sat down on the chair opposite him and he smiled.

“Good morning. I took the liberty of ordering you a 'full Welsh breakfast' since you seemed to enjoy it so much yesterday. I must say you look very 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed' today, something must have agreed with you.”

He was trying to get me to blush and I knew it.

“It must be lack of sleep,” I replied. “Does it affect you in the same way?”

Richard opened his mouth to reply but at that moment the breakfasts arrived and he had to hold his tongue until the waitress had left.

“I think you're right,” he said. “Sleep is over-rated.”

I looked out of the window at the brightening sky. “The weather is looking a lot more promising today,” I said, changing the subject.

“I suppose if you finish your scenes today you won't be staying another night?”

“I'm afraid not. Hannah really wants me back in Stratford by tomorrow for rehearsals and only agreed to me staying one more day if I really had to.”

“That's a pity,” Richard responded, sounding very disappointed.

“Yes it is, but perhaps there'll be another time. What are you going to do after this?”

“I'm going for an audition at the Old Vic in London They're producing Marlowe's play 'Dr Faustus' and I'm going to try for his servant 'Wagner'.”

“I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with it,” I replied.

“I'm sure you know at least one quote from it where Faustus summons the ghost of Helen of Troy:

'Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium--? '”

I laughed “So that's where it's from. If I wasn't already committed at Stratford I might have tried for Helen.”

Just then the Assistant Director Tom walked into the dining room.

“Good morning Harriet, Richard. Dafydd's asked me to drive you out to the location. The weather's looking fine so I'm sure we'll get your scene done this morning.”

I started to get up but he said “No, finish your breakfast first. The crew has to set up the gear and camera, and the local farmer has to deliver the goats, so we've got plenty of time.”

Nevertheless I felt obliged to eat the rest of my breakfast without delay. Richard matched me and we both headed to our respective changing rooms while Tom helped himself to a cup of coffee.

“In case I don't see you later, thanks for everything, especially last night,” I said to Richard when no-one was in earshot.

He smiled at me. “Maybe we can catch up again sometime, I hope so.”

“Me too,” I replied, and glancing around to make sure we were not observed I kissed him quickly on the lips.

I changed into my dress with the buttoned front, and Sylvia the makeup artist worked on my face. “This lipstick is the same colour that you will use on your breasts, and I've got a spare,” she said. “Dafydd's asked me to come on location with you today as there'll probably be a few takes and we'll have to remove the lipstick after each one. He thought you'd prefer a woman to do that.”

“That was thoughtful of him,” I said.

She laughed. “Yes, he's nice like that. Anyway it's a break for me to get away from the change room.”

After she was finished, we went back to the dining room. There was no sign of Richard, but Tom was ready to drive us to the location. The sky was bright and clear and I suspected that Dafydd would like to get some shots with the sun low on the horizon. In the story it is supposed to be evening, but no-one was going to know that it was really shot in the morning.

The crew was just finishing setting up when we arrived, and the sun was on the point of appearing over the horizon. The tent which had kept the grass dry had been removed but there were sticks to show its previous location. That was smart thinking as the surrounding grass was wet with dew.

“Good morning Harriet,” said Dafydd. “At last we've got some decent weather. I'd like to get this shot just as the sun appears on the horizon. We're going to shoot with you in the foreground and the sun in the background.”

There was a big reflector set up next to the camera, presumably to reflect the sun back towards my face so that I wasn't seen as a silhouette. Dafydd indicated where I should lie on the grass and the sticks were removed. The goats were in position too, each one tethered to a stake in the ground so that they didn't wander off. They completely ignored the humans around and were busy chewing on the sweet grass. I wondered if the farmer had deliberately kept them hungry.

I had two sequences to record, but because we were using the sunrise as sunset, we had to record the second one first while the sun was really low in the sky, and then the first sequence later when the sun was higher in the sky. In the play, quite a lot happens in between the two sequences. These are the strange sort of things that happen when making a film.

Luke, the Standby Props man handed me the lipstick, which I placed on the grass beside me. His job was to provide all the props necessary for the day's filming. It's an important job as anything missing could result in a loss of time which would be very expensive.

Dafydd made sure I was lying in the right position on the grass. He would speak the words of 'Second Voice' which had been slightly modified for the scene.

The camera assistant walked up close to me with the clapper board.

“Under Milk Wood, scene one one four take one,” he said and smartly pushed the clapstick down onto the board to make the synchronising 'clap'.

Dafydd started to speak:

“Action. Down in the dusking town, Mae Rose Cottage, still lying in
clover, listens to the nannygoats chew, draws circles of
lipstick round her nipples.”

As he spoke, I half sat up, pulled open the top of my dress and began to draw a circle with the lipstick around my breasts, gazing down at them, speaking as I did so:

“I'm fast. I'm a bad lot. God will strike me dead. I'm
seventeen. I'll go to hell.” I looked at the goats. “You just wait. I'll sin till I blow up!”

Then I lay back in the grass as Dafydd said:

“She lies deep, waiting for the worst to happen; the goats
champ and sneer. Cut! Very good Harriet. I think we'll try it once more with a little more emphasis on the 'blow up'.”

Sylvia came up and cleaned the lipstick off my breasts.

The camera assistant produced the clapper board again. This time it was “Take two”.

We started the scene again but this time the lipstick broke as I circled my breasts.

“Damn,” I muttered, and Dafydd called out “Cut”.

Luke provided a replacement lipstick and the third attempt was much better, and after the fourth one Dafydd was satisfied. We had to wait for the sun to rise further in the sky so that we could record the afternoon sequence. Just then a truck bounced up the track and stopped by the gate of the field where we were filming.

“Oh good, that's the catering truck, right on time,” said Dafydd.

It seems that filming relies heavily on the supply of food. All the crew headed down to the truck where the driver and his assistant had opened shutters on its side. Meanwhile I buttoned up my dress.

“Would you like something?” said Sylvia, obviously thinking that I shouldn't go to the truck, bra-less as I was. I felt like a star, being the only actor there, and everyone seemed happy to do anything they could for me.

“Just a sandwich and a cup of tea please,” I said, sitting on a chair which the camera assistant thoughtfully provided.

The rest of the crew were obviously enjoying themselves, tucking into pies and sandwiches, and so an hour passed.

Then Dafydd and the crew came back up the field and the truck departed.

“Right, the sun's risen enough, we'll get started again,” he said.

Sylvia checked my makeup, and Dafydd prepared to read 'Second Voice' again. Luke provided me with a dandelion puffball; the camera assistant came up with the clapper board and read out the scene number and 'take one'.

Dafydd began to read 'Second Voice' from the script:

“The afternoon buzzes like lazy bees round the flowers
round Mae Rose Cottage. Nearly asleep in the field of
nannygoats who hum and gently butt the sun, she blows love
on a puffball.”

I followed the action, blowing gently on the puffball, then spoke lazily, pausing to blow between each line and making sure that the final seeds drifted gently away on the last line where I emphased the word 'loves'.

“He loves me
He loves me not
He loves me
He loves me not
He loves me!--the dirty old fool.”

I lay back in the grass as Dafydd said:

“Lazy she lies alone in clover and sweet-grass, seventeen
and never been sweet in the grass ho ho. Cut! Excellent Harriet, but I'd like you to do it just once more, and a little more emphasis on the last 'loves'.”

I was handed another puffball by Standby Props. I wondered how many of them he had on hand. We went through the sequence twice more and finally Dafydd was satisfied.

“Well done Harriet, that's your part completed so we can release you now. Sylvia will take you back to the pub. Thank you very much for your contribution to the production. I know it's only a small rôle but every part is important as you know.”

With that we shook hands and Sylvia and I walked back to the car where Tom was waiting for us. My moment of stardom was over, and the crew were already packing up to move to the next location.

Back at the Carpenters' Arms I went to the changing room to put my own clothes back on and cleaned off the make-up. Then I returned to my room and took out my case to apply my own make-up, then finished my packing, went downstairs and checked out. I was hoping that I would see Richard but he must have been still out on location, so I walked to where 'Bluebird' was parked out the back, loaded up my suitcase and started the engine.

As I drove back home to Stratford, well I was starting to think of it as my second home, I mulled over the events of the weekend. I realised now why films and television programs cost so much to make. I had been paid quite a reasonable sum, and the total running time of my contribution was about one to two minutes at most. Of course the weather hadn't helped, and I was relieved that I would be back in Stratford for rehearsals on Monday morning in a nice dry theatre where the weather wasn't a problem.

At one point during that morning, while we were waiting for an inconvenient cloud to clear away from the sun, I had had a chat with Luke, the 'Standby Props' man.

“Do you ever get bored with all this waiting around?” I asked.

“No I don't, because I'm watching everything that's going on. I don't intend to be 'Standby Props' for ever, but it's handy because I'm there every time a sequence is shot and I learn what everyone else is doing. I'm hoping to become an Assistant Director next and eventually a Director. In the meantime I get my name on the credits and my experience goes on my C.V., a bit like you I guess? In fact I was wondering why you took such a small part. I can see you're a good actress, in fact you wouldn't be performing in Stratford if you weren't.”

I smiled. “Well like you I'm building my career and all this goes on my C.V. I get my name on the credits too. When I took the part I wasn't sure if I'd get the part I wanted in 'Othello'. As it turns out I didn't get it but I was given another part instead, so it all turned out alright.”

Luke laughed. “Acting can be a tough life.”

“Yes it can,” I agreed. “And the irony is that first you have to get good rôles in order to be considered for other good ones. I've been very fortunate so far and I hope the good luck doesn't run out.”

Naturally I thought about the night with Richard too. I knew I would be forever grateful for the wonderful way he had treated me. Now I was convinced that I was not only physically but also emotionally a woman. This didn't mean that I would be searching for another lover to repeat the experience, Richard had given me what I needed and that was enough. Of course if the opportunity arose to spend another night with him, it would be hard to say 'no'.

Taking part in 'Under Milk Wood' had been an interesting experience. My one disappointment was that due to the way it was shot in numerous small scenes, I hadn't met the principle cast members. Perhaps their parts had already been completed.

I arrived back in Stratford mid-afternoon. Dale was out and returned a short time later with Frank.

“Hi Harriet, back already,” said Frank. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better thank you Frank. I suppose Dale told you I was in Wales performing a cameo in 'Under Milk Wood'? It was one of those 'blink and you'll miss it' parts.

“It all adds to your C.V.” said Frank. “Please let me know when it's being shown; I wouldn't want to miss it.”

“Frank, you're one of my most devoted fans and I really appreciate it,” I said. “Now there's a delicious smell coming from the oven, what are you two cooking up?”

“Shepherd's pie,” said Frank. “I know it's one of your favourites and I was counting on you returning today.”

“We were lucky. It rained all day Saturday but thank goodness it cleared today or I'd still be there.”

We sat down to a delicious meal which I really appreciated as I'd only stopped for a cup of coffee on the way back from Laugharne.

That evening I logged onto my computer. I hadn't bother to check my emails for about a week, and there was one from Reggie written a few days previously. I confess my hand was shaking as I used the mouse to highlight it and click 'open'.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 41   Playing at 'The Globe'

Reggie's email read as follows:

Dear Harriet,
I wish I could speak to you personally or on the phone, but since it's impossible at present, I must write to you instead. Mum told me that she met your mother in Bridchester and told you the news about the baby, so it will come as no surprise to you, but you might wonder why I didn't write before. To be honest I didn't know how to tell you. My first thought was that it couldn't be mine, but then I worried that the vasectomy might not have worked properly. A friend of mine here knows a medical student and he agreed to check a sample from me to see if I was still fertile, but it proved that I'm not.

The only conclusion is that Sophie was fed up with waiting for something to happen and took other measures. Of course I can't say to her that I know it's not mine without revealing that I had a vasectomy so right now there's nothing I can do. It seems she has outsmarted me. Maybe once the baby is born I can somehow prove the father is someone else. I'm so sorry this has happened. If you never want to hear from me again I will understand, and I'll also understand if you are fed up waiting and want to get on with your life and marry someone else.
I guess you are getting ready to play Desdemona now and I wish you all the very best with it. You are a great actress and will only get better as time passes. I will always follow your career with great interest.
Love, Reggie

I confess the tears were flowing as I read the email for a second time. Then I started to write my reply:

Dear Reggie,
I confess I was shocked when I heard the news about the baby, but you mustn't apologise. None of this is your fault, and I will never cease to be grateful to you for the huge sacrifice you made for me. I still believe that one day we will be together, so please don't give up hope, I never will. We are both still young and have many years ahead of us and they include the happy years we will spend together.
I've just returned from an interesting weekend in Wales playing a small part in Dylan Thomas's 'Under Milk Wood'. I hope you are not shocked but it required me to bare my breasts. Now I am back at Stratford for 'Othello'. I didn't get 'Desdemona' but instead will play her companion 'Emilia'. I still get to die on stage like I did as Juliet!
Take care, and remember that I will always love you,
Harriet xxxxxxxxxxx

I read it through twice and then clicked the 'send' button. At least we could keep in touch by email. It must have been a lot harder for people in our position before the internet existed.

Hearing from Reggie caused me to review my feelings for him and Richard. I was fond of Richard, fond enough to go to bed with him, but I knew that there would only ever be one true love in my life, and if years had to pass before I could be with Reggie, then it would be worth the wait.

I went to bed early, and being on my own, it was hard not to think of the previous night. I fell asleep and had a confused dream where Reggie and Richard were fighting a duel over me. Rushing between them I was stabbed by both swords and sank to the ground, dying, and looking up, I saw them both staring down at me with stunned looks on their faces. I awoke suddenly, my heart racing. There was a knock on the door and Dale's voice calling out: “Are you alright Harriet?”

“Yes Dale, I had a bad dream. I'm sorry to have disturbed you.”

After that I couldn't get back to sleep and even though it was about three o'clock, I got up and went into the kitchen to make myself a drink of tea. To my surprise Dale and Frank were sitting there in their dressing gowns with cups of tea in front of them.

“Oh dear! Now I feel really bad,” I said. “It seems I've disturbed the whole household.”

“You know how it is when you get woken up in the middle of the night,” said Dale. “Do you want to tell us what the dream was about?”

I hesitated, then said “You are my friends, so I trust you, but not a word of this to anyone.”

Then I described the scenario but only mentioned Reggie's name, but of course it didn't take them five seconds to work out who the other man was.

“I think it's a combination of my confused feelings plus the fact that I've played two characters now who die on stage,” I said. I certainly wasn't going to tell them that I'd been to bed with Richard.

They both nodded sagely. “I think you're right,” said Frank.

Time passes. The production of 'Othello' was a great success. I can't claim that it was largely due to me. The play is dominated by the characters of Othello and Iago, and the two main female characters, Desdemona, and her companion Emilia, my rôle, take second place. There is one more female rôle in the play, Bianca, Cassio's jealous lover who is often thought to be a courtesan, although this isn't specified in the play. A young woman called Rachel Reid had been given the part. I had not met her before but she was a very good actress.

At the end of the play, Desdemona is strangled in their bedchamber by Othello who wrongly believes her to have betrayed him, and then once again I died through a stabbing, but unlike Juliet who stabs herself to death, this time it was at the hands of Iago, my stage husband for revealing his treachery. I sank to the floor, my body propped up on my elbow as I spoke my final lines to the slain Desdemona who lay on the bed.

”What did thy song bode, lady?
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
And die in music.”
Singing
”Willow, willow, willow,--
Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die, I die.”

With that I slumped back onto the floor.

This was the first time I had sung on stage since playing Ophelia in Hamlet. Shortly afterwards Othello killed himself and Iago was taken into custody to face punishment for the evil he had caused. And so the tragedy ended and the curtain fell.

The first night audience gave us a great reception. During the curtain calls, Jemma and I appeared from opposite sides of the stage and holding hands advanced to the apron and took our bows, both together and separately. After us came first Sidney and then Anthony.

Following their bows we all joined hands across the stage and received a standing ovation. Not for the first time I thought what a wonderful occupation I had where I was not only paid well, but received public accolades for what I did.

We played to full houses for several weeks and then I received a request to see the new Artistic Director Gwynneth Soames. A summons to see 'the Boss' always causes trepidation, especially since she had only recently arrived and while she had been introduced to the company 'en masse' I hadn't spoken to her on a 'one to one' basis. Did she think my performances weren't up to scratch? I didn't think so but you never know.

I knocked on the door and received an invitation to “Come in” in a pleasant-sounding voice.

Gwynneth Soames stood up as I entered the room. “Harriet, thank you for coming to see me, please take a seat.”

She indicated one of two comfortable chairs which I took to be a good sign. If this had been a formal meeting she would surely have sat behind her desk.

“I finally got to see a performance of 'Othello' and I must say I was very impressed with your performance,” she said. “You know what it's like when you start a new job, there are a thousand and one things to be done, but it's very important that I get to see the productions which are currently being presented, and that's what I want to talk to you about.”

My heart thumped unpleasantly. Was there something wrong after all?

“'Othello' is playing to full houses as you know, but we cannot extend the season because we are scheduled to start a season of 'Julius Caesar” in four weeks’ time. However, something has come up. Due to unforeseen circumstances a production at the new Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London has had to be cancelled and we have been offered a four-week season there. This ties in perfectly with the end of the Stratford season. For that reason I am speaking to all the principal actors in this production to see if they are available to play the season at the Globe?”

My heart was thumping; to play at the Globe had been on my 'wish list' for some time.

“Oh yes Miss Soames, that would be a dream come true!” I said excitedly.

“I'm so glad you said so. I've already spoken to Anthony, Sidney and Jemma, and this means that all four principal artists will be available. A couple of minor roles will have to be recast due to the actors having other commitments that they can't break, but we can replace them. I really wanted the four of you to carry on playing your parts as you have obviously jelled so well.”

So that's what the interview had been about, I had been worrying unnecessarily as usual.

When I saw the other principals I mentioned that I too was able to follow the production to the Globe and how much I was looking forward to it.
“I'm sure you'll enjoy it,” said Anthony. “It's quite a different feeling from playing behind a proscenium arch.”

“I did something similar in Singapore, when we toured there early this year, but of course that was an indoor arena rather than a theatre,” I replied.

“Oh yes, I heard about that; you were performing to about six thousand people weren't you?”

“Yes, the biggest audience I expect to play to,” I replied, laughing.

The Stratford season was coming to an end and meanwhile we had made arrangements for accommodation in London. Jemma had asked if I would like to share a serviced apartment with her and I gladly accepted. I didn't want to be living on my own in London. I had been in touch with my agent, and he had negotiated an increase in salary for me to cover the additional costs of living in London.

Jemma's parents lived in London's outer suburbs, too far away for her to live with them. After being given a budget, they very kindly looked around the area close to the Globe to see what they could find for us. They located a very nice two-bedroom apartment with a lounge room, small kitchen, bathroom, toilet and laundry facilities. It was on the second floor of a six storey apartment block in Southwark, less than ten minutes' walk from the theatre, not that we would be walking between the two, especially at night.

Meanwhile I let Mum, Emma and Reggie know about the change of venue for our production. They all replied in very positive terms, wishing me luck. Reggie said nothing more about the baby, but what was there to say? Mum and Emma said they would love to come to London and see me perform if that was possible. Unfortunately, I couldn't get them a discount but they seemed alright about that.

The final performance in Stratford arrived and once more the theatre was full and we received another standing ovation. Meanwhile, we were informed that ticket sales at the Globe were going very well.

There seemed no point in taking my car to London since I wouldn't have much opportunity to use it, and in any case the public transport there is excellent. Dale said he would look after her for me, and knowing him as I did, I knew he would probably do a service and a cut and polish while I was away, so 'Bluebird' would look like new when I returned. I would pay him of course. He was my friend but I insisted that he not be out of pocket.

A couple of days later, Gemma and I left on the bus which the Company had kindly provided for cast and crew that wanted to use it to go to London. We both had rather large suitcases which caused some comment from the men, but we were women after all, and women need clothes if they are going to be away from home for about a month.

The bus travelled around the inner London suburbs, dropping off the cast and crew where they were staying. When we saw our apartment we were very pleased. It was modern and bright with all the 'mod cons' we needed. Both bedrooms faced north towards the Thames, and if we stood at one corner of the windows we could just make out the distinctive roof of the Globe Theatre. Neither bedroom was superior to the other, so we just tossed a coin for which one we would occupy and set about unpacking.

The following day we arrived at the Globe Theatre at nine o'clock. I confess to being quite excited, as I'd heard so much about it but this was the first time I had been there. The original theatre was built in 1599, burnt down in 1613, rebuilt, and finally closed by the Puritans in 1642 and pulled down a couple of years later. Sam Wanamaker, the celebrated American actor and director was responsible for the new theatre named 'Shakespeare's Globe Theatre' which opened in 1997 close to the original theatre's site. It was designed to be as faithful a reproduction as possible, being built of oak and has the only thatched roof in London. They were banned after the Great Fire of London in 1666 but I was pleased to hear that the roof on the new Globe has plenty of fire retardant materials and other precautions to prevent any disaster.

We all assembled on the stage ready to meet some new members of the cast, replacing those who couldn't continue with the season due to other commitments. To my surprise, a figure with a familiar face came hurrying across the yard which surrounds the thrust stage.

Hannah looked up “Ah, there you are Richard. I was beginning to think you'd had second thoughts about the part. Everyone, this is Richard Jenkins. Some of you will know him from performing in 'Romeo and Juliet' at Stratford and the overseas tour.”

Richard climbed up the steps to the stage, panting and out of breath.

“I'm so sorry Miss Barrow, the taxi was stuck in traffic.”

“Well, so long as you're not late for a performance. Richard is playing Cassio since Edward had a commitment he couldn't break.”

I confess my heart was pounding at the sight of Richard. We had kept in touch with occasional emails, but I thought he was still performing in 'Dr Faustus'. I wondered why he hadn't told me the season had finished and he was going to join us in 'Othello'.

He nodded at me, and then Hannah started to block our moves for performing on the thrust stage with its overhead canopy, which is very different to performing behind a proscenium arch. In Shakespeare's day, some of the wealthy or notable audience members actually sat on the stage. At least we didn't have to contend with that.

As it's an open-air theatre, someone asked what we should do if it started to rain.

“You keep on performing of course,” said Hannah. “The cast are fairly sheltered by the canopy, but if it gets really heavy you can contrive to keep more to the rear of the stage The only circumstance in which we halt the performance is if there is a thunderstorm overhead, and I think you'll find the audience in the yard will want to seek shelter rather than watch the play.” There was general laughter at this remark.
“We will be performing during daylight hours extending into the early evening with some minimal lighting since the idea is to replicate performances in Shakespeare's time as closely as possible. You will be very aware of the audience, particularly the 'groundlings' in the yard some of whom will be standing very close to the stage. This is a bonus because you will find that you feed off their energy. Don't forget that this was the theatre for which Shakespeare and others wrote their plays.”

All this sounded very exciting and I could hardly wait for the first performance. At the conclusion of the blocking, we were informed that the first rehearsal would take place that afternoon, and we were released to get some lunch. As I expected, Richard came over to talk to me.
I had viewed his unexpected arrival in the theatre with mixed feelings. Since returning from Wales, I had thought a lot about Richard, and wondered more than once if I had been wise in taking him to my bed. I was keen to have him remain a friend, especially as it was quite possible that we would share a stage again, and now that we had become lovers, even if only for one night, I wondered how that would affect the dynamic of our relationship. Well, it seemed I was about to find out.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY
Due to the arrival of overseas visitors which will make writing difficult, and not having enough chapters 'up my sleeve', I'm sorry to say that this is probably the last chapter of Harriet's adventures for a few weeks. She will return as soon as possible, you have my word on that.
Bronwen

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Regrettably it's been a month since I last posted a chapter of Harriet's adventures, so here is a brief review of Chapter 41.
The Imperial Shakespeare Company has moved their production of 'Othello' from Stratford to Shakespeare's Globe theatre in London, a replica of the original Globe built in 1599. Harriet agrees to share an apartment with Gemma for the duration of the run.
Some cast members have other commitments, and to Harriet's surprise, Richard Jenkins appears at the first rehearsal, having taken over the rôle of Cassio. When they have a break, he comes over to talk to her.

Chapter 42   Sprung

“Hi Harriet, we meet again.”

“Hi Richard, I was surprised to see you here; I thought you were still performing in 'Dr Faustus'.”

He laughed. “Unfortunately the ticket sales weren't meeting the running costs, so a decision was made to cut the season short.”

“That's a shame,” I responded. “Were you enjoying playing the part?”

“Yes I was. Look, why don't we chat over lunch? There's a small cafe just around the corner.”

I agreed to his suggestion. As we were walking out of the theatre, we passed Rachel Reid who was playing 'Bianca'.

“Hi Richard,” she said, and there was something about the way she said it that caused me to think that the two of them had history. Call it 'female intuition' if you like.

“Hi Rachel,” he responded. “How have you been?”

“Fine thank you. We must catch up some time,” she said.

I half expected Richard to invite her to join us for lunch, but he didn't.

We walked to the little café he suggested. Being lunchtime it was full, but a couple got up from a table by the window just as we came in and Richard told me to grab it before anyone else did. He asked what I would like and went to order our lunch as I sat down at the table. I had a salad (well a girl has to watch her weight!) and Richard ordered a pie and chips. He's one of those people who can eat what they like and still stay as slim as a lath, don't you just hate it? When the two meals were delivered to our table, together with a pot of tea, I found myself looking so longingly at the chips that he laughed and insisted that I have a few with my salad.

We chatted about various things, mostly relating to our theatrical work. I asked him what he had lined up to do next and he said 'Nothing', which was why he was so glad to get the Cassio rôle.

“I'm sure your agent will get you an audition soon,” I said. “You're too good an actor to be 'resting' for long,” and I reached out and patted his hand in a reassuring way. It was at that moment that out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of light in the street.

“What was that?” I said, startled.

“What was what?” he responded.

“A flash of light out there,” I said, looking out into the street.

“I don't know, maybe it was the sun reflecting off a car window,” said Richard.

“No, it was more like a camera flash, but why would anyone use a flash in broad daylight?”

“Can you see anyone with a camera?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted. “Well if there was someone, they're gone now.”

I transferred my attention to the 'elephant in the room', which I thought we had been avoiding. Time was passing and we would soon have to return to the theatre, so I decided to take the plunge.

“Richard, about that weekend in Wales,” I started, and he looked up startled from apparently concentrating on his plate.

“Err, yes?” he responded, obviously not knowing what was coming.

“I've been thinking a lot about it since, it was one of the most magical experiences of my life.”

Richard appeared to relax a little. I think for a moment he had expected me to say I was pregnant, forgetting that I couldn't be, and I nearly burst out laughing.

“The thing is, if you asked me to do it again, I'd probably say yes, but the more important thing for me is that we remain friends. After all, here we are again, acting on the same stage, and if we had a full-on romance and it went bad, that would make it very difficult for us to work together.”

“I see what you mean,” he said slowly. 'So what you're suggesting is a sort of 'friends with bonuses' arrangement?”

“Well I've never heard that expression before, but yes, I suppose that's what I am suggesting.”

Richard smiled. “You haven't heard it before because I just invented it. Anyway, that sounds perfect to me; no commitments, but enjoying each other's company how we want to and when we want to.”

I breathed an inner sigh of relief. It seemed that I had said just the right thing.

After that, we finished our meal and walked back to the Globe for the afternoon's rehearsal.

It was an amazing experience to be on a stage so similar to the one that Shakespeare was used to writing for and performing on. The Globe does a lot of visitor tours in order to raise money, and while we were rehearsing, several groups came around and stood there for a few minutes watching us before the guide moved them on. We didn't mind, we were too busy concentrating on our parts and knew we would soon be performing in front of many more people. No doubt they would be encouraged to buy a ticket and see the whole performance.

The next few days were very busy, getting used to performing on the different stage layout, finishing with a couple of dress rehearsals.

Finally, Saturday arrived and it was time for our first performance. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt a few more butterflies in the stomach than usual as I waited to go on-stage. The theatre seemed very different when it was full of people. It was a matinée, and although there were a few lights to brighten the stage area, all the 'groundlings', as the audience in the yard has been called since Shakespeare's time, were perfectly visible to us. Not only that but some of the people were standing really close to the stage. It's a very different sensation to acting in a conventional theatre, where the audience is in the dark. Fortunately, being elevated on the stage, it was fairly easy to ignore them and concentrate on the other actors.

I imagined that when performing comedy, it would be perfectly acceptable to acknowledge the presence of the audience, much as is done with pantomimes, but in a tragedy like 'Othello', there is no option but to perform as if the audience was not there. However their reactions to the play are certainly audible, especially in the more dramatic moments. As an example, for some of the audience who were not familiar with the play, there were audible gasps when Desdemona was strangled and I was stabbed.

My final lines and singing could seem melodramatic if not performed well, and I did my best to make it so sincere that the audience would feel real sympathy for the character who had done her best and been cruelly deceived by her husband.

We were accorded a standing ovation at the conclusion of the performance. Well of course the groundlings were standing anyway, but those seated on the benches in the three tiers surrounding the stage also rose to their feet to applaud us. We bowed multiple times for a good five minutes before we finally trooped off the stage.

After a ninety minute break, we gave a second performance. This ran into the evening, and I should explain to those not familiar with Britain that we have a long twilight in summer, and interior floodlights boosted the light level so that the audience could see the cast properly even when it was nearly dark.

Hannah was very complimentary afterwards. The newspaper reviews were most flattering and all the major cast members, myself included, were given a mention. As a result, most performances were sold out. As usual I cut out each article and posted it off to Mum for entry in the scrap book she kept. In fact, she informed me that she was now onto the second one!

We performed twice a day on Wednesdays and Saturdays, with a matinée performance on all the other days except for Sunday which was our day off. It was quite a heavy workload but as professionals we were used to it.

One day I noticed that Jemma was looking nervous and uncomfortable, so finally I asked her what the problem was.

“You remember Scarlett? Well of course you do. She's coming to London for an audition and was wondering if she could stay here overnight, err, in my room of course.”

“No of course I don't mind,” I replied. “Provided you don't mind if I ask someone to stay over,” I concluded with a smile.

Jemma looked relieved. I wondered what their relationship was? They seemed very close when we were performing in Stratford and on the overseas tour, but Jemma hadn't mentioned her since.

Two days later Scarlett arrived in the late afternoon as Jemma and I returned from a performance.

“Hi Harriet, how are you? What's it like performing at the Globe?” she said.

“Fine thank you. We're all enjoying it very much indeed,” I replied.

The three of us went out for tea, paid for by Scarlett as a 'thank you' for giving her accommodation. That night she stayed in Jemma's room. They didn't disturb me, but then nothing ever does when I go to bed, I'm a great sleeper! The next morning Scarlett had gone; Jemma, however looked very bright and bubbly, and I was reminded of Richard's comment to me the morning after we had slept together.

When I had last spoken with Dame Emily she had reminded me to ring her the next time I was in London and said we must have afternoon tea again. Of course the last time was when I had my surgery, and I was in no state to be having tea with anyone, but now I was completely recovered, and if Dame Emily was at home it would be wonderful to meet up with her again. However I knew that she was so much in demand that there was a strong possibility that she would be away somewhere shooting a movie or maybe acting on stage.

Being privileged to have her phone number, I rang it, but was not surprised when I heard the familiar voice saying that she was sorry she could not take the call and to please leave a name and phone number.

“Hello Dame Emily, it's Harriet Stow. I hope you are keeping well. I'm in London performing in Othello at the Globe, so I am taking up your kind invitation to ring you. I'll be here for a month.” I gave my mobile phone number and hung up.

I didn't really expect to hear from her for days or even weeks, but to my surprise she rang me back about an hour later.

“Harriet my dear, it's lovely to hear from you,” she said. “What part are you playing in 'Othello'?”

“'Emilia', Dame Emily. I did audition for Desdemona but missed out. Still I'm quite content to have a part, and being at the 'Globe' is an incredible experience.”

“Indeed it is,” she replied. “Well now, are you free to come and have tea with me on one of your Sundays off? I'm performing at the Gielgud Theatre but I'm free on the next two Sundays.”

“I would like that very much,” I replied. “The last time my visit was rather truncated.”

“I remember, I seem to remember that you went off to see your young man play cricket. How is he?”

“Quite well, but he's married now. It's rather a long story.” I said sadly.

“I'm sorry my dear, I think I've opened up a raw wound there. Only tell me if you want to, but why not leave it until I see you?”
We chatted for a few more minutes and arranged that I would visit her on the following Sunday . It was then time to walk to the Globe for the morning's rehearsal.

On Sunday I set off for Dame Emily's house in the afternoon, taking a bunch of flowers with me.

When she opened her door she greeted as graciously as ever, almost as if I was a famous actress come to visit, rather than someone still very early in her career. I was shown into the room where I had previously spent a very pleasant afternoon with her.

“How have you been, my dear?” she said. “I confess I haven't heard anything about you since you returned from the overseas tour with the Imperial Shakespeare Company.”

“I took some time off to have my surgery, Dame Emily. I had to rest for about six weeks afterwards but I'm fine now.”

“I'm so glad to hear it. In fact I'm sure I can see a difference in you, not that you look any more like a young woman of course, but you just look more at ease with yourself. Does that sound a funny thing to say?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “It's very perceptive of you. I do feel more at ease now that there's no longer any disconnect between my brain and my body which is as fully that of a woman as it can possibly be.”

“I don't want to embarrass you my dear, but you do look more feminine than many young women I know,” she said with a smile, and of course that did inevitably embarrass me to some extent. Seeing that, Dame Emily changed the subject.

“So now you're back on-stage again.”

“Yes, playing Emilia in 'Othello'. Performing at the new Globe theatre is a thrilling experience.”

“I've had the pleasure of performing there myself,” she said. “It certainly is magical; you can almost believe you are back in Shakespeare's day, performing plays just as he would have done.”

“One other thing I did was a very small part for television, 'Mae Rose Cottage' in a new production of 'Under Milk Wood'. That was interesting, although a lot of time went into a very small amount of actual screen time.”

Dame Emily laughed. “I've done quite a lot of film and television work as you know, and I couldn't agree with you more. Sometimes I think I'm mainly being paid to read books!”

While I didn't want to keep anything from her, I was rather glad that she didn't make any comment about the fact I had bared my breasts, although I suspected she knew about that scene.

We had a really lovely afternoon together. I asked after Cassie, and Dame Emily said that she was currently performing in a play in Manchester.

“I was hoping that she might have been here today to meet you again but it seems she was tied up. I rather suspect there is a young man involved,” she said with a smile.

She was too polite to enquire about Reggie, but it seemed the ideal time to tell her what had happened, so I did. She listened intently without interruption, and at the end she said.

“Well I'm very sorry to hear what happened, and he certainly is a true friend to sacrifice himself like that for you.”

“I believe that too, Dame Emily, although I'm sure some people might feel that I shouldn't be so devoted to him. I can only say that I believe the day will come when we are together and I'm prepared to wait until that happens.”

Of course I didn't say anything about Richard. He was a friend and I enjoyed his company but my feelings for him were altogether different to those I had for Reggie.

I was in the habit of calling at a local newsagent to pick up the newspaper when walking to the Globe for a rehearsal or performance, and by now I knew the owner's name was Eddie, but he addressed me always as Miss Stow. I had told him my name was Harriet, but he still preferred the more formal title, so I just accepted it.

Early the following week, I called by, and Eddie produced my newspaper and put it on the counter as usual. He seemed a little distracted and I wondered why.

“Good morning Miss Stow. Err, you might want to see this as well,” he said, and reaching under the counter, he produced a magazine and laid it on top of the newspaper. It was one of those 'celebrity gossip' magazines called 'Fan Mail Express'. I looked down at it and the shop felt like it was starting to spin.

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 43   I become a 'celebrity'.

I gripped the counter to stop myself from falling.

“Are you alright Miss Stow? You're white as a sheet,” said Eddie anxiously. He hurried round from behind the counter, took my arm and guided me to a chair. “I'll get you a glass of water.”

“Thanks Eddie,” I said, faintly. I really had felt for a moment that I was going to keel over.

After a few sips of cold water I began to feel better, and I realised that I had the magazine in my hand.

The whole front page of 'Fan Mail Express' was devoted to a picture of Richard and I, taken through the window when we were sitting in the café,. To give the devil his due, the photographer had caught the precise moment when I had reached out and patted Richard's hand. So what I had seen was a camera flash after all. As if that wasn't bad enough, a headline was splashed across the page in bright red capital letters 'ROMEO AND JULIET IN SECRET TRYST'. 'Secret tryst'? What on earth were they talking about? We were sitting in a packed local café!

Then I noticed that there was a story on page three and with trembling hands I opened the page and read as follows:

Rising stars of stage and screen Harriet Stow and Richard Jenkins were recently spotted enjoying an intimate moment in a London bistro. When asked by our reporter for a comment, Miss Stow said “We are just good friends”
.
After starring as young lovers Romeo and Juliet in Shakespeare's play of the same name, where their on-stage chemistry wowed the audience and led to speculation that their scorching performance was not just confined to the theatre, they are once more starring together in Shakespeare's 'Othello', a tale of love, lust, power and treachery. One of the hottest tickets in town, you can catch their performance at the Globe theatre in London.

The article was accompanied by photos of us copied from the Globe program, and also another one where I had turned to look out of the café window, startled by the camera flash. To anyone who didn't know the circumstances, I suppose I could have looked guilty as though caught 'in flagrante delicto'.

Eddie was still staring at me with an anxious look on his face.

“Eddie, this is a total fabrication,” I said. “No reporter ever spoke to me, and the pictures were taken through a crowded café's window. As for the 'on stage chemistry', we were acting, that's all. Yes we are both in the cast of 'Othello', but there's no romantic involvement between our two characters.”

“You shouldn't worry about it, Miss Stow,” said Eddie. “No-one believes the stories in magazines like this.”

But I did worry about it. What if Reggie, Mum, Emma, other friends and cast members saw it. What would they think?

Eddie had an answer for that too. “Just write and tell them that it's all rubbish, but you know the old saying 'all publicity is good publicity'.”
I managed a faint smile at that, but there was another thing; although the reporter had no idea, there was an element of truth in his story. After all, Richard and I had gone to bed together.

I wasn't totally convinced by Eddie's argument, but by now I was sufficiently recovered to pick up my paper and the magazine, which he kindly put into a paper bag. He insisted on not charging me, and after thanking him, I left the shop and walked to the theatre. I realised that my next job was to tell Richard.

The rehearsal that day was primarily for the two understudies for 'Othello' and 'Iago'. Both the original understudies had been fortunate enough to get some other rôles and couldn't come to London with us, so the two new company members needed to get some 'on-stage' experience.

When I arrived at the theatre, Hannah looked at me curiously and said “Are you feeling alright Harriet? You look rather pale.”

“Yes I'm alright, I just had a bit of a shock. I'll tell you about it after the rehearsal if you like,” I replied.

The rehearsal went very well. Both the understudies had obviously worked hard on their parts, were word-perfect and very good. I hoped they would be given an opportunity to take part in a performance.

After the rehearsal, Hannah came up to me and suggested we go to her office to discuss what had happened. I picked up my carry bag containing the newspaper and magazine, and followed her.

We both sat down and she looked enquiringly at me. I took the magazine out and handed it to her. Her reaction wasn't what I expected at all – she laughed. Then she saw the look on my face and composed herself as she read the accompanying article.

“I'm sorry Harriet, but I thought something dreadful had happened.”

I felt mortified. “I thought you'd be very upset,” I said.

She smiled gently. “Harriet my dear, you are now what's termed a 'celebrity'; it happens to all good actors and actresses. I'm afraid that means that your private life is no longer always private.”

“But it's total fiction, we were in a small cafe having lunch before a rehearsal, it wasn't a 'secret tryst' at all, and the reporter certainly didn't speak to me.”

“I believe you Harriet. Most of the articles in magazines like that have very little truth in them and the readers know that, but they still like to read about celebrities, and if there's a whiff of scandal they like it even more. That's what you've become, a celebrity, or the magazine wouldn't have bothered with you. Look on the bright side, it's raising your public profile. Remember that old saying 'all publicity is good publicity'.”

There was that phrase again. “Well, I'm going to write to them and complain about having my privacy invaded,” I said.

Hannah smiled. “Oh they'd love that, which is precisely why you shouldn't do it. This is a one-off article, but if you complain, there will be a follow-up article in the next issue which will suggest, without spelling it out, that you are only upset because what they printed is true.”

I blushed, and hated myself for it.

Hannah looked at me curiously. 'Is there any truth in it? After all, Richard is a handsome young fellow.”

“Well,” I said slowly, aware my blush wasn't diminishing, “We are good friends, they got that bit right.”

“I understand,” said Hannah, and it seemed clear to me that she understood exactly what sort of a friendship we had. “In that case, I urge you to take my advice and just let it go.”

I nodded slowly. “Thank you Hannah, I'll take your advice.”

One positive thing that came out of my talk with Hannah was that I wasn't in the least surprised when Richard had very much the same reaction.

“Well, we've hit the big time if 'Fan Mail Express' is taking notice of us,” he said laughing.

“Well I hope this is the last time we cross paths with them,” I said. A horrible thought crossed my mind , and without pausing to think I blurted out “You didn't set this up did you Richard?”

“Harriet, how could you think such a thing?” he responded and I couldn't work out if his outrage was genuine or simulated.

“I'm sorry, that was an awful thing to say,” I said, my cheeks burning.

“How could I have set it up? We only sat in the window because the table became vacant. That was pure luck when the café was so full.”

“I'm truly sorry,” I said again. “I don't know what on earth made me say that. Please forgive me.”

Richard smiled. “Only if you let me take you out to dinner,” was his reply.

“Of course you can, but in the circumstances, I should be the one to pay,” was my response.

We went to dinner the following Sunday evening, it being our only day off. Richard booked a table at the Wright Brothers Oyster and Porter House in Southwark. I had developed a taste for seafood and this was one of the best places to go in London.

I dressed for the occasion in a classic 'little black dress' with sheer black stockings and six inch heels, and I must say that Richard's reaction when he saw me was most gratifying.

“Harriet, you look stunning,” was his comment.

“Well I hope you're not too stunned to eat,” I replied. “I've heard that the restaurant we're going to is one of the best, and don't forget, I'm paying.”

There is of course a well-known although unproven theory that oysters are an aphrodisiac, and we both consumed some that night. Later, when Richard escorted me back to the unit where Jemma and I were living, I invited him in for coffee. Jemma had gone to bed early; one thing led to another and it wasn't long before we graduated from the couch to my bedroom. I have to say that he is an excellent lover, and our second night together was even better than the first one in Wales.

Having agreed to Scarlett staying with Jemma, I had no qualms in having Richard stay, and Jemma, he and I had breakfast together before going to the theatre. He had worn a suit for our dinner date and while it might have raised some eyebrows when he appeared wearing it at the theatre later in the day, that was nothing to how the other cast members might have reacted if I had appeared in my 'little black dress'!

As Hannah had predicted, there was no further report on Richard and I in the 'Fan Mail Express', and someone else appeared on the front page the following week. People regularly waited at the stage door for the cast to appear, and to ask for autographs or photographs with us. Following the 'exposé', a few mentioned the article, and my standard response was 'You can't believe everything you read in the press'. They would nod sagely, but whether they believed me or not I can't say. I did notify Mum, Emma and Reggie by email, and they all replied along the same lines, saying that they knew it went with the territory and that they didn't believe a word of it.

The season was a great success with full houses at nearly every performance. Richard and I spent another couple of nights together, but all good things come to an end, and after the final performance we went our separate ways. He had obtained a rôle in Edinburgh, and I returned to Stratford.

Dale seemed pleased to see me. I asked how things were going and he said that everything was going well. There were a few bills that needed paying, and even though I had been away a lot, I insisted on paying half the electricity bill as well as half the rent. I asked how he was feeling about being in the flat on his own while I was away performing, and he said he was fine with it. I enquired if Frank had been up to see him much and Dale said he had been there a few times.

“I imagine you can tell that because the flat always looks tidier after he's been here,” he laughed.

A few days later I went up to Brid for a week to see my family. They were all doing well. I was concerned that Emma might be itching to get back on stage again, but she seemed to have settled into the rôle of 'stay-at-home mum' at least for the present. Baby Elizabeth had grown still bigger, and David and Penny were pleased to see me too.

Mum was as pleased as ever to have me stay with her again and we did some shopping together and also went to the theatre to watch the play David was currently directing, “And a Nightingale Sang...” by C.P. Taylor, a drama about Britain during World War II. The company performed it very well, and it got me thinking about whether I should try to expand my repertoire and not do so much Shakespeare.

At David's invitation, we called around backstage after the performance to congratulate the cast. I was somewhat surprised to learn that even the new members of the group who had never met me before seemed to know of me. I put it down to David telling them about me, but afterwards he told me this was not so.

“You are more well-known than you think, Harriet. A number of people talk to me about my famous sister-in-law who performs at Stratford and 'The Globe'.”

As you can imagine that brought colour to my cheeks, something I've never managed to control.

After a week at Brid, I returned to Stratford. I had been in touch with my agent who had lined up an audition for me with the Company and I was fortunate enough to obtain the part of Beatrice in 'Much Ado about Nothing'.

I must say that this is one of my favourite Shakespearean rôles. Beatrice is bright and witty. She has been burned before in her relationship with Benedick and refuses to concede that she still loves him right to the end of the play.

Romantics might hope that Richard Jenkins would have played Benedick, but he was still busy in a play in Edinburgh and instead another fine young English actor Robbie Smith won the rôle. Not only was he handsome, but he was also married, which was perhaps a good thing. Saying that, I would hate anyone to think that I'm the sort of person to fall for the leading man in every play in which I perform! I met his wife Karen at the get-together backstage after the first performance. She was a charming young woman and fortunately understood that stage romance is exactly that, not that Beatrice and Benedick have a 'Romeo and Juliet' relationship.

I have always felt some sympathy for the spouses of actors or actresses. It can't be easy knowing that in some rôles the love of your life is on a stage night after night pretending to be madly in love with someone else. Not only that, but there are too many occasions to count when stage love spills over into real life, at least if you read 'Fan Mail Express'!

We had been performing the play for about two weeks when I returned home after one performance to find a note written by Dale sitting on the kitchen table.

'Reggie rang, wants to speak to you and will try again tomorrow morning. I explained you are performing in the evenings and some matinées.'

I wondered why he hadn't rung my mobile, so I checked it. Of course it was set to silent while I was at the theatre, and I had forgotten to check it for messages. There was one from Reggie. 'Sophie had the baby. Need to talk to you. Will try tomorrow R x'

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 44   Blood groups don't lie

It was mid-morning and my mobile phone rang. It was Reggie.

“Hi Harriet, I'm glad I caught you, I've got a bit of time between lectures.”

“So Sophie had the baby, what did she have?”

“It's a girl – eight pounds and she named her Stella. She's a pretty little thing with red hair.”

It didn't sound as though Reggie was consulted about her name, but then why would he be when he wasn't Stella's father and Sophie knew it? It was interesting news but why was he so anxious to ring me rather than send an email?

“The reason I'm ringing you is because I can prove that Stella isn't mine and without revealing my vasectomy,” Reggie continued. “As it's a bit complicated I thought I should ring rather than send an email. It's all to do with blood groups; she was a bit jaundiced after a couple of days and some blood tests were done, including her blood group, which turned out to be A”

He paused and I felt a comment was expected but I didn't know what it was.

“I'm sorry Reggie, you'll have to explain the significance of that.”

“Well both Sophie and I are group O. I thought I remembered something about blood groups from Biology at school but I checked with a guy I know who is studying medicine. He said that Stella's father has to be group A too and so it can't possibly be me.”

“Is there any chance that could be wrong?” I asked.

“No, blood groups don't lie. It's one hundred percent sure that someone else is Stella's father.”

“Is Stella alright now?” I asked. I suddenly thought 'Is that maternal instincts kicking in and she isn't even my child?'

“Yes, she's fine. They put her under some special lights and she's not jaundiced any more.”

“So who does Sophie know with red hair?” I asked.

“Well.....there is Phillip Whitlow. He's visited us a few times since I joined the football club.”

'And maybe he's visited when you haven't been there,' I thought but didn't say it out loud.

“Of course I can't come out and ask him what his blood group is,” said Reggie with a forced laugh.

“But perhaps you could mention that Stella has red hair and see how he reacts?”

Reggie laughed. “Yes, that could be interesting.”

“So what does that mean to us?” I asked.

“Well, nothing right now,” admitted Reggie. “But it's valuable information if the time comes when I can get a divorce without putting you in danger.”

“I do hope that day comes before I'm an old lady,” I said trying for a jocular tone.

“So do I Harriet, so do I,” replied Reggie very seriously.

My heart went out to him. “We will be together Reggie, I just know it,” I said.

“I'm sorry Harriet. I think you were expecting more substantial news than that, but I thought it was important to let you know.”

“You did the right thing Reggie. You have to be Stella's father regardless, so how are you finding it?”

“Well the funny thing is that I'm very fond of her, even though I know she's not mine.”

“That's because you are a good man, and would make a great father,” I said. There were tears in my eyes, but Reggie didn't know that.

“I love you Harriet,” he said softly.

“I love you too Reggie.” By now the tears were really flowing and I think it showed in my voice because Reggie said “Don't cry Harriet. We'll be together one day soon; I just know it.”

I no longer tried to disguise the fact that I was crying. “I hope so Reggie, so very very much.”

A year passed by, one in which I continued to live and work in Stratford. First I played Rosalind in 'As You Like It' There was a certainy irony in this rôle as the character is disguised as a boy for much of the play. Of course this happened more than once in Shakespeare's plays and there was a double irony in those days since the audience knew that all female parts were played by boys or young men.

I also played Mistress Anne Page in 'The Merry Wives of Windsor', Katherina in 'The Taming of the Shrew', and Adriana in 'The Comedy of Errors'. It has doubtless not escaped your notice that all these women are strong characters and even the feminists of their time.

My agent Richard informed me that producers and directors were now starting to ask if I was available to audition for these rôles. I wondered if I was becoming type-cast.

“It won't be long before they start asking if you are willing to take rôles without even auditioning for them,” he said.

When I demurred, he insisted that he was not joking.

“In my occupation as an agent I've seen this happen before, but only rarely. I hardly need tell you who comes to mind,” he said. He was obviously referring to Dame Emily, and to be compared with her was a wild exaggeration in my view, but I said nothing.

We took the production of “The Merry Wives of Windsor” to Broadway, New York for a two month season. Scarlett Mitchell was playing the part of Mistress Ford. This was the first time I had seen her since our overseas tour of 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Twelfth Night'. I wondered if she was still seeing Gemma, but thought it was better not to ask. To my surprise she asked if I would be interested in sharing an apartment while we were in New York.

When I hesitated, she laughed and said “I'm asking you to share an apartment, not my bed!”

I felt a bit embarrassed and replied “Yes, I'd be happy to share an apartment.” I think my follow up laugh sounded a bit forced.

Scarlett smiled. “There's one proviso, I hope you won't object if someone else shares my bed occasionally, because I'm happy to extend the same courtesy to you.”

I felt like saying 'That won't be necessary', but instead I said “Of course.”

We found a very nice two-bedroom apartment at AKA Times Square, only a few blocks from the theatre where we were to perform. It had a kitchenette and all the usual hotel facilities and suited us perfectly. We ate in the restaurant a lot of the time, but it was nice to be able to whip up a late-night snack for ourselves. I've always found that I'm ravenous after a performance, partly because I don't ever eat a big meal before one.

The second weekend of the season, a very pretty coloured girl joined Scarlett and I for breakfast. I hadn't heard her come into the apartment, and I am a fairly heavy sleeper so I wasn't disturbed during the night. I believe I treated her appearance with 'sang froid'.

“Harriet, this is Marcia,” said Scarlett.

“Hi Marcia, it's very nice to meet you,” I said.

“Hi Harriet, Scarlett didn't tell me you were so pretty,” she said with typical American forthrightness. “I don't suppose you...”

Scarlett cut her off. “Harriet's straight,” she said. “Gay-friendly but straight.”

“I'm sorry honey, I hope I didn't embarrass you,” said Marcia.

“Not at all,” I replied. “I take it you live in New York?”

“Goodness no,” she giggled, “I'm a Columbus Ohio girl. I'm on stage too, that's how I met Scarlett.”

She didn't elaborate further which left unanswered questions. Just how did Scarlett meet these women? I had recently heard the expression 'gaydar' and wondered if Scarlett had this mysterious ability to divine someone's sexual preference just by looking at them.

During our two-month season, Marcia appeared a number of times for breakfast. I did attend a performance of the musical in which she had a small part and she did very well.

Something I have noticed about American performers is that they all seem to be brimming with self-confidence which I believe is imbued in them at an early age. Marcia certainly believed that it was only a matter of time before she became a big star on Broadway. A few years ago I happened to see a copy of 'Playbill', and there was Marcia starring in a Broadway musical. One thing had changed, she was no longer using the name Marcia, and in order not to embarrass her, I won't mention what name she uses nowadays.

I should mention that I slept alone by choice during that seasn, though not for want of an offer. As happened during our previous visit, we were given a reception by local dignitaries, and being forewarned I packed a gorgeous deep red gown, sheer black tights and six inch heels. I also took precautions to discourage anyone getting too close. The previous Christmas, Mum had given Emma and I one of her mother's rings each. Emma's was a ring with five large diamonds which had been earmarked for her eldest granddaughter. For me there was a ring with a beautiful honey-yellow stone called Imperial Topaz. Before I went to the reception I slipped it onto the fourth finger of my left hand.

It was a pleasant evening with the women all dressed in glamorous gowns and the men in their dinner suits looking very smart. A very handsome young man came up to me and introduced himself as Elmer Graystone III. It seems to be a very American tradition to give several male generations of a family the same name and distinguish them by a number suffix.

“Harriet Stow. I'm very pleased to meet you,” I said politely.

“I thought it was you Miss Stow,” he replied. “I had the pleasure of seeing you in 'Romeo and Juliet' when your company was last here. I have never seen Shakespeare performed better.”

“Thank you very much Mr Graystone,” I replied.

“Please call me Elmer,” he responded. “I shall look forward to seeing you in 'The Merry Wives'. Tell me, do you get any time off during the season? I would consider it a privilege to show you around New York.”

I used my left hand to move a strand of hair off my face. Perhaps the gesture was a bit obvious.

“I see you are engaged. I am seeing someone myself, so let me assure you that my intentions are totally honorable.”

“Please call me Harriet,” I replied, smiling. “If I am not taking up too much of your time, I would be very glad of a local resident to show me around, but I only have Sundays off and that might not suit you.”

“On the contrary, it would suit me very well indeed,” was his reply.

New York is an amazing city, and Elmer not only showed me the traditional tourist sites, like the view from the top of the Empire State Building and a walk through Central Park, but also many other places that only locals know about. We even managed to catch a few performances of other plays and musicals that had a performance, usually a matinée, on Sundays. I could only conclude that whoever he was seeing was either very tolerant, or didn't know about his outings with me. Whoever she was, he didn't mention her again.

Perhaps it pleased him to have an actress on his arm as a couple of times we ran into friends of his and I was proudly introduced as a member of the famous Imperial Shakespeare Company from Stratford-upon-Avon in England. They seemed duly impressed.. It turned out that Elmer worked for one of the big merchant banks, but he loved the arts and we spent one day at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which has some amazing works by famous Old Masters.

I tried to make a contribution to the expenses but he refused to take any money.

“They pay me a ridiculous amount for what I do,” was his explanation.

We dined at some of the upmarket restaurants, and he took me to supper after a few performances, so I felt the need to buy myself a few more dresses, finally stopping at six!. Well I could hardly wear the same dress all the time, not that a girl really needs an excuse to go shopping with Macy's and Bloomingdale's only a short walk away.

To give Elmer his due, he was a perfect gentleman, and the only time we shared a kiss on the lips was on our last date before the season ended. I felt a twinge of regret that I hadn't invited him back to the apartment, but I really didn't want to get into the habit of bedding every eligible young man I met. I know that some famous actresses are well known, in the theatrical community at least, not to have such scruples.

After I returned to England Elmer and I stayed in touch by email. A year or so later he wrote to tell me that he had become engaged to the boss's daughter which seems a very smart thing for an up and coming executive to do, although I'm sure he was fond of her. I sent them both a card and present, wishing them well. I was even invited to their wedding but work commitments forced me to decline. In any case, it might have left his fiancée wondering about Elmer and I, not a good way to start a marriage. For the same reason our email correspondance came to an end by mutual agreement.

The season was a great success, and the audiences were most appreciative. Most performances were sold out, which is quite a feat in a two thousand seat theatre. When the season came to an end, it was with genuine regret that I said farewell to New York. I've been back many times since of course, but that first proper visit was very special, and Elmer certainly helped to make it so.

Christmas came around and with it a break from performing for a few weeks. I drove up to Bridchester to spend it with my family. Mum was going well, and so were David, Emma and their little family. Baby Elizabeth was now crawling around and Penny was developing into quite a young lady.

One thing that puzzled me was that Emma showed no signs of wanting to get back on the stage. It was through her that I took the first steps of my career because she was performing with the Apollo Players who need a replacement backstage in a hurry and so I obtained my short-lived job of assistant stage manager, before quickly replacing a sick cast member. Now she seemed quite content in her rôle of 'stay-at-home mum'. I just couldn't imagine my life without being on the stage, but then I didn't have children to look after, so I suppose that was the difference.

David was directing the Christmas pantomime again. That year it was 'Aladdin'. All the cast members remained well, so there was no need to call upon my services to fill in a vacant part. I confess I felt a twinge of disappointment, which was ridiculous really since the idea of the Chritsmas break was rest and relaxation, recharging the batteries for another year of performing in Stratford.

I baby-sat Elizabeth while Emma, Mum and Penny went to a performance, and that was a real pleasure. For a couple of hours I was able to pretend that I had a baby of my own, though of course if I had had one, that would have caused complications for my career. Realistically, it was better for me to be an auntie.

Rather than attend a performance on my own, I took Mum along for a second viewing. She was happy to go, since, as she said “Every pantomime performance is different”. Having had experience of it myself, I had to agree with her.

David invited us backstage after the performance and introduced me to the members of the cast that I hadn't met before. It seemed they all knew of me, but then the performing world is rather like a great big family where even if you don't see the relatives very often, you are still aware of their existence.

One morning I was out shopping in Bridchester on my own when turning from looking in a shop window, I suddenly realised that a young couple walking towards me and pushing a baby pram were Reggie and Sophie. I suppose it shouldn't have been totally unexpected, after all, Reggie's parents still lived in Brid, and it was natural that he might want to see them at Christmas time. Anyway, it was too late to pretend I hadn't seen them, so I kept walking towards them with a big smile on my face.

“Hello Reggie, Sophie, what a surprise seeing you here,” I said.

Sophie gave me her usual cold smile and Reggie looked embarrassed. I had no doubts about my ability to handle the situation, and could only hope that he would be discreet.

“My mum met your parents a while back, Reggie, and they told her that you had a baby,” I went on, and of course had to look in the pram. .Reggie was right, she was a pretty little thing, and being dressed in pink, it was perfectly reasonable for me to ask 'her' name.

“Stella! What a pretty name!” I exclaimed.

“We like it, don't we Reginald?” said Sophie, her attitude thawing out slightly. Reggie nodded.

“Are you staying here long?” she enquired.

“Just three weeks, and then it's back to Stratford. I suppose you've had to put your course on hold, Sophie; how is yours going Reginald?” I said.

“Quite well thank-you,” he replied.

“Well, I mustn't keep you; I'm sure you have shopping to do too. Please give my regards to your parents,” I said, then walked on down the street, thinking to myself that our meeting had gone quite well. It had been friendly but not too friendly and nothing had been said to give away the fact that Reggie and I were still in contact.

I returned to Stratford and shortly afterward, Richard, my agent, rang to tell me that I was invited to audition for the part of Lady Macbeth in 'The Scottish Play'. It seemed there was to be a new director and he wanted younger people for the leads. It's true of course that at the time it was set, people didn't live to a great age. The real Macbeth was fifty-two when he died or more likely was killed.

I never took auditions lightly but thought it quite likely that I would be considered too young or too inexperienced for the part. Nevertheless it was flattering to be considered, and I thought that maybe the other strong Shakespearean women I had been playing might stand me in good stead.

It was the day before the audition, and I was home doing some housework. Dale had left for work, and when the door bell rang, I opened it thinking it might be a neighbour or even Jehovah's Witnesses. A camera flash went off in my face and after I had a chance to collect my thoughts I realised that two men were standing there.

The older one held the camera, and the younger one who looked rather cocky said “Good morning Miss Stow,” with a heavy emphasis on the 'Miss'. “What was it like growing up as a boy?”

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 Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.

---

Chapter 45   Handling the press

When a reporter surprises you at your door with a very personal question, you have a few options. One is to slam the door in their face, in which case they will go off and make up a sensational story which bears little resemblance to the truth; a second is to try to put them off by denying that there is any truth in their allegations, but of course they won't believe that, and again, they'll go off and make up their own story.. The third choice is to do what I did, put them on the back foot, so in reply to his question about what it was like to grow up as a boy, I smiled sweetly.

“It was quite interesting,” I said. “But it's hardly something I can discuss on the doorstep, won't you come in?”

The two men looked at each other. This was not the response they had expected. The younger one recovered first. “Yes thank you,” he said, a little less sure of himself now.

They followed me into the lounge where I indicated two seats.

“Would you like tea or coffee?” I asked.

“Black coffee, two sugars please,” said the older man, clutching his camera like a lifeline. He kept sneaking glances at me and I could tell what he was thinking 'Was she really once a boy?'. I smiled at him and he looked embarrassed. He had the tell-tale signs of a drinker on his face, red blotchy skin, bloodshot eyes, and a tinge of jaundice.

I felt sorry for him, thinking 'You don't really enjoy this job but perhaps it's all you could get.'

“White tea, no sugar, for me please,” said the younger man.

I happened to have very good hearing and while I was in the kitchen preparing the drinks I heard the older man mutter to the younger one “What's she playing at?”

“Trying to put us off, but don't worry, I know how to handle her and get the story,” replied his companion.

I walked back into the room with their drinks, plus a coffee for me, and a plate of sweet biscuits. They thanked me and I sat down on the couch facing them and crossed my legs, the picture of relaxation, well that's what I intended.

“Gentlemen, you have the advantage of me. May I enquire what your names are and for which publication you work?”

The younger one said “I'm Les Dawson and this is Harry Marks. We work for 'Fan Mail Express'. I know you've heard of it since we featured you on the front page not so long ago.”

“You did indeed,” I replied, and turning to Harry I said “Did you take the pictures of Richard Jenkins and I in the café?”

“Err yes, that was me,” he replied.

“Only I wondered about the flash going off, that would have drawn attention to you, although the camera was out of sight before I turned to look out of the window.”

Harry smiled ruefully “That was a mistake; I forgot I had it switched on.”

“Harry was your name originally, wasn't it?” said Les, slightly impatiently.

“Indeed it was,” I replied. “I was named after my father. That seems so long ago, but let me ask you a question; there are many transgendered women and even a few transgendered men around nowadays, so what makes you think your readers will want to read about me?”

“Well, you're a famous actress nowadays and the public are interested to know about you.”

“Really?' I said. “So it's a case of public interested. Alright, where shall we start?”

“Why not start at the beginning when you were born a boy?” This came from Harry.

“Well, I would prefer to say it was when I was born with the body of a boy since I'm quite sure that I never really was a boy. Incidently, did you know that everyone starts life as a girl in the womb? It's just the effect of hormones that makes some people develop as boys and some as girls, and then of course there's those of us whose mind does not match our body.”

Les started to look impatient again. “Sure, but when did you know that you should have been born a girl?”

“I'm sure that happened quite early on. I always felt more comfortable interacting with girls, and then there was my first stage experiences. As I'm sure you know, I went to an all boys school. They had an annual play, and unlike today when they would invite girls from a local school to play the female parts, in those days they selected the boys they thought could pass most convincingly as girls, and it won't suprise you to learn that they picked me. Of course I made a token protest, but secretly, I really enjoyed being a girl on stage and it seemed I did it quite well.”

Les was scribbling notes as I spoke. “So you enjoyed being a transvestite?” he asked.

“I was never a transvestite as we understand the term,” I replied. “I didn't get a special thrill from wearing women's clothes, I just felt 'right' wearing them, if you know what I mean? I was expressing who I really was.”

I wasn't sure how much of this was really getting through to Les.

“I read that you got your big break at the Apollo Players in Bridchester when a cast member fell ill.”

“That's right,” I said, thinking 'He's certainly been doing his research.'

I went on to describe how I had taken over the part in 'Dear Brutus', and how, when the play moved to London it was thought that I should present as a girl full-time in case having a boy play a girl's part attracted unwanted publicity.

“What about the people you worked with, how did you hide who you were from them?” asked Les.

“I didn't; they all knew, just like the people I work with now know about my past,” I replied. “They all accept me for who I am.”

“So why keep it a secret from the general public?” he asked.

“To be honest, I didn't think anyone would be interested,” I replied. “After all, I'm not a soap star; the type of theatre I perform in isn't of interest to a lot of people. It's mainly Shakespeare and other classics. I don't want to sound snobbish, but only a small percentage of the population attend those plays, (and they don't read 'Fan Mail Express'),” I thought but didn't say out loud.

“I'm guessing you've had surgery now,” said Les, looking pointedly at my breasts.

“I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions,” I replied. “Let's just say that I am now happy with my body.”

“Yeah, I see where you're coming from,” said Les, glancing at his watch. “Well I guess that about wraps it up.”

“One thing before you go, call it women's vanity if you like, but I'm sure the picture you took on the doorstep won't look very good. If I put on some makeup and changed my top, would you like to take some more? I'll be less than ten minutes getting ready; we learn to be quick in the theatre.”

Les laughed. “Yes, why not?”

I felt comfortable leaving them in the lounge, there was nothing they shouldn't see. I quickly put on some makeup and a pretty top and reappeared in just over five minutes.

Les had one final try at finding scandal. “I see that there's a guy who lives here, is he your boyfriend?” he asked.

“I share with a man who's a friend, it's more secure than a woman living on her own. He's not a boyfriend, I don't have one, nor a girlfriend for that matter,” I said with a laugh.

Harry was a good photographer. I wondered if he had run a studio in the past before the alcohol caught up with him. Was it a marriage break-down? It wasn't my place to ask. He actually seemed to enjoy posing me and when he showed me the pictures on the little screen at the rear of the camera they were really good. I asked if he could arrange some enlargements for me. “I'll be happy to pay for them,” I said.

So it was that we parted, if not exactly friends, at least not enemies. We seemed to understand each other and I had hopes of a sympathetic article as a result.

Two weeks later I bought 'Fan Mail Express' again from the local newsagent. I heaved a sigh of relief that I wasn't on the front page. In fact I appeared on page ten. It was a quarter page article and about a third of that was taken up with one of Harry's excellent photos.

“SHAKESPEARE (sic) ACTRESS REVEALS PAST”
“I always knew I wasn't meant to be a boy,” says Harriet Stow.

Les wrote the article in a more sympathetic style than I thought him capable of doing. It seemed that I had made the right choice in the way I had handled the 'home invasion'.

Of course I had reported the incident to Duncan Morgan, the CEO at ISC, including the fact that I would probably appear in 'Fan Mail Express' once again. I was thanked and told that it made absolutely no difference to my employment there.

“If it puts more 'bums on seats' then so much the better,” he said laughing. “Somehow I don't think it will make much difference.”

One more thing that derived from that incident. I showed the pictures that Harry took of me to the other actors at the theatre and they were so impressed they asked if he could take some of them too. Harry had left me his contact details when he delivered the enlargements, so I put them in touch with him and he got quite a bit of work from it. One morning there was a knock on the door and it was a courier delivering a large bunch of flowers. The card with them read 'Many thanks from Harry'.

A few years ago, I was performing at the 'Globe' theatre in London, and quite by chance I ran into Harry in the street. I hardly recognised him. He was wearing a suit and looked dapper and quite healthy.

“Miss Stow, it's great to see you again,” he said. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

I had free time, so I agreed and we sat down in one of the many cafés in that part of London.

“You're looking well,” I said.

“And it's largely thanks to you,” he replied. “When you ordered those pictures and some of your theatre friends did the same, it made me realise that I'm a better photographer than one who spends his time trying to catch out celebrities in embarrassing situations. I left the 'Express' and I joined 'Alcoholics Anonymous'; I'm sure that's no surprise to you. I managed to get work in a proper photographic studio again, thanks to an old friend who had never given up on me, and I'm doing very well.”

He produced a business card. “If you ever need more photographs taking, please give me a call, no charge, it will be my pleasure.”

It gave me a good feeling to think that I had in a small way helped someone turn their life around.

However, I digress. The day after I met Les and Harry I was to audition for 'Lady Macbeth'. I should mention in passing that while superstitious thespians, myself included, tend to refer to 'The Scottish Play' when not involved with a production, when you are it's perfectly acceptable to call it by its proper name.

I had been told that there was to be a new director and I wondered who it would be. Much to my surprise, when I arrived at the theatre, Hannah Barrow who had directed 'Othello' was standing there. She greeted me with a hug. “It's lovely to see you again Harriet, how have you been?”

“Very well, Hannah,” I said. She must have seen the curiosity on my face because she laughed and said “Yes, I'm directing 'Macbeth'. I was as surprised as you are. It seems that Keith Nobel who was to have directed has been taken ill and they contacted me at short notice and asked if I could replace him. I was looking for something a little lighter after 'Othello', but work is work, so here I am.”

I was very pleased to see her. We had got on very well during the run of 'Othello', and while I wasn't looking for something that would be to my advantage in getting the part, I felt that our previous association could only work in my favour. Hannah and her assistant went to sit in the stalls and I waited with three other young women, none of who I had worked with before. I was called up to the stage first.

As requested, I had prepared Act 1 Scene 5 which starts:

'They met me in the day of success: and I have
learned by the perfectest report, they have more in
them than mortal knowledge...'

It is a fairly long speech in which Lady Macbeth starts by reading a letter from her husband, where he reports on his meeting with the three witches, and then she starts to speculate on how to fulfill their promises.

I was asked for another speech, so followed it up with the next major speech where Lady Macbeth learns that King Duncan will visit her home, and she determines that he will not leave it alive.

'The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements...'

This speech contains the lines:

'Come, you spirits 
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,'

That final phrase has caused generations of school children to snicker, and I dealt with it by being careful not to overemphasise it, which is fairly easy since the whole speech is declaimed with passion and at high volume.

When I had finished, as I expected, they thanked me and said they would let me know. This is standard practise. Looking at the other contenders for the part, I was sure that I was the youngest, and wondered if I genuinely stood a chance. I sat in the stalls and listened to them audition, and at the end felt rather gloomy since they were all very good.

Once the session was over, I went home and waited for the phone call. Auditions are effectively job interviews, and as actors we have more of them than most people. We go along and sell ourselves as well as we can, and hope that we have impressed the producer and/or director suffiently well that we are given the job. If anyone tells you that they are blasé about waiting for the phone call, don't believe them.

I waited a good hour, drinking coffee and trying to read a book, only to realise that I was going over the same page time and again without even taking in the words. Then the phone rang, and my heartrate increased.as I picked up the receiver.

“Harriet Stow,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Hello Harriet, it's Hannah Barrow here; how are you?”

“To be honest, a bit stressed,” I replied with a forced laugh feeling my heart pounding.

She laughed too. “In that case I'l put you out of your misery right away. We would like to offer you the rôle of 'Lady Macbeth,” she said.

I nearly said 'Really?' but realised that would sound stupid, so instead I said: “Thank you very much Hannah, I am happy to accept.”

“Good,” she replied. “Now I have some exciting news for you; David Lodge had agreed to play Macbeth.”

My heart leapt. “That's excellent news,” I replied. “I was in the production of Hamlet where he took the title rôle and I played 'Ophelia'.”

“So he mentioned when I told him who was likely to play Lady Macbeth. He also told me that you stepped in at short notice to play Queen Gertrude for a couple of performances when Dame Emily and her understudy had food poisoning. He was very impressed.”

Thank goodness we were not on a video phone so she couldn't see me blush with pleasure. David Lodge had actually remembered me!

“As you know it was after that incident that ISC made it a rule that actors and their understudies should not eat the same meal, the same rule that some airlines apply to pilots and co-pilots. Anyway, I digress. We look forward to seeing you when rehearsals start in two week's time.”

When I put the phone down I still had a rapid heartbeat. David and I acting together again! I should stress that I wasn't in love with him, but he is a very dishy man as any woman will 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, also Julia Phillips for picking up my punctuation errors and any typos Louise or I missed. I'm very grateful to them both.