Dara

black tie, whilst being bullied by masters and prefects alike.

This miserable existence was only relieved when my fagmaster, Nicholas Dawney, took me on his knee and showered me with loving kisses. He had a predilection for kissing me on the neck near my ladybird birthmark. Sitting on his lap always made him horny and it wasn't long before he was loosening my lower garments to indulge his taste for buggery. I became very fond of Nicholas and in time came to look forward, each day, with joyful anticipation to our sessions of passionate intimacy. Within months I became his adoring slave, living only for his kisses and prepared to do anything to please him.

I cried myself to sleep every night for over a week when he left school to become a freshman at Oxford University. When, in turn, I became an undergraduate at the same university I discovered that he had finished his studies the year previously and had gone on to become a commissioned officer with the Grenadier Guards.

At Oxford I became an enthusiastic member of the University Theatre Club, helping out as a stage hand to begin with and taking small parts in performances staged by the club. Neglecting my studies I became more and more enmeshed in Oxford's theatrical activities and spent a lot of my time at the theatre in London. Obsessed with the stage, I was determined to make the theatre my career. Reading plays and writing reviews of performances I had seen in London occupied my time most evenings. Very little of my work was published but I got an enormous thrill whenever an article of mine appeared in print.

Life went along reasonably smoothly in this fashion until my last year at the university. It was the summer vacation and I was mooching around at home in a very apathetic way when I came across a groom in the stables who had the facial features and build of a Grecian god. Neither of us spoke, but looks sometimes express what volumes of words cannot. I hadn't felt such excitement in my being since last I saw Nicholas Dawney. After Nicholas and I had parted I had kept myself to myself, veering away from close friendship with anyone however tempted I might be to further an acquaintanceship. Trembling before the lust in this young man's eyes, I turned and strode quickly back to the house determined to avoid the vicinity of the stables in the future.

Possibly because of the agitation I felt that day, I brought the discussion at dinner around to my wish for a career in the theatre. It took a great deal of courage to raise this matter because my father considered: 'The theatre is an ancillary to the brothels, and those who tread its boards are on a par with gipsies and fornicating trollops pandering to the worst tastes in society.'

On hearing my theatrical ambitions, his face went purple and swelled with shocked anger. Some food caught in his throat and he coughed and spluttered as he repeatedly smote the table with his clenched fist. Fearing the wrath that was about to fall about my ears I beat a hasty retreat to my bedroom and locked the door.

The next morning I waited until he had left the house before coming down for breakfast. After my meal I strolled outdoors to enjoy the bright sunshine. It was a heavenly morning when nature's creations show themselves in all their glory. There was poetry in the sun's warm rays as I wandered about hither and thither as if in a dream. I swear that I was not conscious of where my steps were leading me until I found myself in the stables alone with the handsome groom.

He held me spellbound with a long steady stare, his eyes never leaving my face. Moving very slowly he came up alongside me; his hands stroked me everywhere as he gently manoeuvred me into one of the stalls. Buttons were undone and, when my trousers slid around my ankles, he pushed me on to a bale of straw and removed his trousers. As he came down on me an almighty roar thundered through my head and I heard the man above me cry out in pain as my father's riding crop whiplashed his rear.

It is too painful to relate the uproar of my father's anger at finding me in such a shameful position with one of his grooms. Suffice to say that I ill never be able to erase from my memory the humiliation and mortification I felt pulling up my trousers with my father viewing me with the most loathing.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, I stood before my father's desk in the library, dejected and weary, without hope and not caring whether I lived or died. Such was his disgust that he was unable to look at me when speaking.

'You are beyond redemption and have brought shame to a family name that has always been held in high esteem in society,' he said coldly. 'Nevertheless it is my duty, however hopeless the task may be, to do all in my power to make a man of you. I have been living for the time when you would marry and produce an heir to carry on the family name. You are my only child, the last of the line of the Kennets. Much depends on you.'

He raised his voice a little. 'Have you any appreciation of how much I'm depending on you to produce another heir for the Kennets?'

'Yes, Father,' I muttered.

Taking two envelopes from one of the drawers of his desk, he addressed me again. 'Tomorrow you sail from Liverpool for America where a cousin of your mother's farms land near New York. You will reside with him and work on the farm and there you will stay until you have proved your manhood. Get yourself a good wench soon after your arrival and bed down with her. I don't care how many women you have or how many bastards you produce, so long as you keep your proper distance from men.'

He paused to glance briefly at me. 'Do you take my meaning?'

I could only nod, miserable at the prospect of farming in America.

'In this envelope,' he said, handing it to me, 'is a letter for your mother's cousin giving him strict instructions to work you hard from dawn to dusk. The discipline will be good for you and keep you out of mischief. You will have no difficulty finding the farm, the address is on the envelope. And here is the other envelope, addressed to a New York bank, with a bill of credit and instructions to pay you monthly a sum of money that should be more than sufficient for your needs.'

The anger he felt was beginning to show on his face. 'Now get out of this house,' he shouted, 'you filthy, bare-arsed, pederast, milksop. And don't come back until you have proved your manhood!'

Needless to say, I never reported my presence to mother's cousin when I arrived in New York.

It was late in the morning before I awakened, but not too late for my appointment at the National Theatre at midday. Dara had arisen before me and had a cup of tea ready as soon as I opened my eyes. She had already extracted a promise from me that she could accompany me as she was just as keen as I to become a play-actor with some American theatrical company.

Jonathan Ede met us in the foyer and took us through the theatre to the stage. Introducing him to Dara, I haltingly explained her presence by saying, 'A good friend of mine from England whose dearest wish is to appear in an American play.'

Dara had the power to dazzle and stimulate any masculine acquaintance whenever she chose to do so and he visibly began to soften as she set out to charm him. He was of medium build, about forty, with a freckled face and reddish hair, confident and positive in action and speech and mildly bellicose if anyone dared to contradict him. Wearing an alpaca frock coat, silk cravat and a beige waistcoat, he could easily be taken as a man of business rather than as a man of the theatre.

'James,' he said, clapping me on the back. 'You will be pleased to hear that I have decided to find you a place in our company. We need a man with a strong English accent in two of the plays we are performing. I will have copies of the plays for you to read sometime next week.'

I was about to thank him but he turned to Dara. 'Well, young lady, what can you do? James says you are from England yet, if my ears don't deceive me, you sound more American than English.'

Dara smiled as if he had paid her a great compliment. 'I've been over here sometime now. As for what I can do, well, I can recite Shakespeare 'til the cows come home.'

He answered somewhat sharply, 'No doubt, but can you act and can you memorize your lines quickly? If you're going to be a member of my touring company you must be able to learn lines within twenty-four hours, as we will be putting on three or four different plays every week and often at short notice. Do you think you can do that?'

Dara looked doubtful. 'Yes, er, I think so,' she answered hesitantly.

'Do you know Gay's ballad “The Black-Ey'd Susan”?'

'No, but I'm sure I could soon learn the words,' she replied, confident and eager.

'Good! Here's a copy,' he said, handing a hand-written sheet to her. 'I am in need of a meal, but will be back here in less than half an hour. See that you are word perfect when I get back.'

With a gesture of farewell he disappeared through a side door, leaving Dara and me somewhat bewildered as to what to do next.

There was a very determined look on Dara's face as she made for a seat in the auditorium and began to read