Fault in the Structure

‘It’s good for the poor chap to have something inanimate to curse about,’ Laura informed Dame Beatrice, ‘because he’s too much of a rabbit to tackle anything human, either male or female. Anyway, come to that, most of us are at the stage of thinking before we speak and then not saying it. I even listen patiently to our blonde bomb- shell, the slightly overpowering (where she buys her perfume I can’t think, unless it’s privately imported from Port Said or somewhere), the very ripe Mabelle van Pieter.’

‘You listen patiently to her? Why, what has she to say which requires patience in the listener?’

‘Well, she claims to be a pro., you see, and I think it’s true. She tells me I “should ought to broaden out the part, dear”. Personally I think I’ve broadened it as far as it will stretch. She has forearms like a navvy, a spirited vocabulary and, apart from a lively hatred of Haynings since he, by no means mincing his own words, fought her to a standstill in a verbal battle last week, she gets on reasonably well with everybody, apart from giving them her unasked-for professional advice and leaping out from the wings in the middle of a scene to measure busts and hips.’

‘All very well-intentioned, no doubt.’

‘She may be well-intentioned, but there are those among us who are not. Even young Stella Walker, who seemed so pleased with her two little bits of parts, has begun to step high, wide and plentiful.’

This was true, for Stella had become a very disgruntled young lady.

‘If only we’d settled on a straight play,’ she said at the beginning of the fifth rehearsal, ‘which, after all, was what nearly all of us wanted, I might have been given a decent part. I mean, I may not be able to sing, but I can act Sybil Gartner’s head off. Do you know how many speeches I’ve got as Jenny Diver? Three! And only one solo – and even that I only mime, while Melanie Cardew sings it from the wings. And it ought to be six speeches and two songs! I do think it’s wrong of him to mess up the script like this. And even the three speeches he has left me have all been shortened.’

‘My part has been cut, too,’ said Melanie, who overheard her. ‘The parts of Polly and Lucy ought to be of equal importance, but they’re not. And who wants to sing other people’s songs off-stage? Besides, the thing doesn’t suit my voice and who on earth can sing a line like “The gamesters and lawyers are jugglers alike,” I should wish to know?’ She walked over to the piano and began to berate poor Ernest whom the blonde had long since abandoned. Her place had been taken by Marigold Tench.

‘Then there’s the Diana Trapes part,’ went on Stella to anybody who was listening. ‘That’s been cut, too. He’s taken out all her main speeches and just left me with four little bits to say, and two of those have been cut to a single line. And again there’s only one solo instead of two. If it wasn’t for letting the rest of the cast down, I’d opt out and make him find somebody else to take my place. Anyway, if Melanie is to sing my songs, why can’t I be Lucy? I’m sure I’d look the part better than she does. She’s much too old for it.’

Stella might not have been able to sing, but she had a vibrant, carrying speaking-voice and Melanie, who had strolled away after criticising Ernest’s rendering of her accompaniments, came over to her.

‘Thank you very much,’ she said venomously. ‘If, after that, you conceited little beast, you think I’m going to sing your solos from the wings while you mime the words like a monkey catching fleas, you may as well think again. Get somebody else to do it.’

‘I think I’d better, if that’s how you feel about it,’ said Stella, coming up and tossing her abundant red-gold hair almost in Melanie’s face. ‘In any case, nobody is going to believe that your strident trumpetings are coming from my larynx.’

‘No. You say your words like a child with tonsillitis.’

‘Perhaps Laura Gavin would sing for me,’ said Stella, not relishing this description of her vocal chords. ‘She’ll be off-stage in the second and third Acts, anyway, because she’s going to prompt when Act One is over, and I hope you fluff and have to be prompted good and loud.’

‘She’s a contralto, and Jenny Diver and Diana Trapes are written for mezzos in Denbigh’s version,’ said Marigold who, from sheer pique at having walked herself out of a part, had familiarised herself with the words and music of the opera. ‘I’ll stand in the wings and sing for you if you like.’

However, the opera got under way in some sort of fashion and Laura, who, without ostentation or what she described as ‘throwing her weight about’ had been accepted as leader and arbiter during this trying time, was able to telephone the College and inform Philip Denbigh that she thought the company was ready for him to take over the rehearsals and that Hamilton Haynings agreed with her on the matter.

There was one member of the society who, not expecting to be given a part at all, had joyously snapped up the very minor role of Filch the pickpocket, although, to his mother’s relief, his best lines (as he thought them) had not only been cut, but had been removed altogether from the script, and this was the young lad Tom Blaine. In spite, however, of Denbigh’s concession to local good taste with regard to her son’s dialogue, Tom’s mother continued to do her best to sabotage the success of the production.

For all the previous shows which the society had put on she had bludgeoned her Ladies’ Guild not only into buying tickets for themselves, their families and their friends, but in helping to fabricate the costumes for the various plays and in providing tea and cakes for sale during the intervals.

On this occasion, however, she declined to ask the Ladies’ Guild to provide any of this valuable help. She could not, in conscience, she said, persuade people to assist at a project of which she so violently disapproved. Apart from that, the Guild had its hands completely full. The pageant also needed dressing. She added that her Young People’s Helpful Band would not be doing their usual rounds of house-to-house touting for the sale of tickets, either, another useful service she had organised in previous years.

‘I would not soil their young minds,’ she said, ‘by letting them know that such a piece was under contemplation.’

‘Oh, well, if the Ladies’ Guild won’t help out, I suppose it means more hiring of costumes than we usually need to do,’ said poor Ernest Farrow. ‘Still, I suppose, for this production, if it’s going to look like anything at all, we’d have to hire most of the stuff anyway. That’s the worst of a period piece. I’ll have to ask the principals to pay for the hire of their own outfits, as usual, but I’m worried about the sale of tickets. The Ladies’ Guild are usually good for fifty or sixty of the best seats, although they do expect them for the Saturday night performance when we could probably sell them anyway. Then, of course, those Young People have been no end useful in getting rid of those tickets which always hang fire, especially for the second night. We shall sadly miss them.’