Lovers Make Moan

“He’s in the garden with the children,” said Valerie. “Perhaps somebody could go and fish him inside and you can ask him.”

“You can bring a horse to water,” said Deborah, “but—”

“Bradley was in the OUDS,” said Tom Woolidge.

“Well!” said Deborah. “I never knew that before! I think you must mean Simon Bradley, our young cousin, to whom this house belongs.”

“No, no, Jonathan was the name,” said Woolidge.

So the chief parts were settled and the final casting (with Yorke keeping his fingers crossed) was to be programmed thus:

Theseus — Brian Yorke (Producer and Director)

Hippolyta — Valerie Yorke

Lysander — Tom Woolidge

Demetrius — Jonathan Bradley

Hermia — Barbara Bourton

Helena — Emma Lynn

Oberon — Donald Bourton

Titania — Deborah Bradley

Puck — Peter Woolidge

Quince — Marcus Lynn (Prologue)

Bottom — Nicholas Rinkley (Pyramus)

Flute — Susan Hythe (Thisbe)

Yorke had decided upon one change in the minor characters, but did not announce it at the second reading. It proved to have some importance later. His nine-year-old daughter had been cast provisionally as the solitary fairy who talks with Puck, but Yorke thought her too tall and wanted her as Philostrate. When she was told this later, Yolanda, an amiable child, welcomed the change and, although, again, it was not mentioned at the meeting, the fairy part, which carried a quite considerable speech, was given to Rosamund. Another member of Signora Moretti’s dancing class was brought in as Peasblossom, Rosamund’s original part, and both were pleased when, later, they were told.

Yorke did consult Deborah about this change, but asked her to say nothing until he had convinced himself that the change would be advantageous.

“But if you do as well with the young as you are doing with Emma Lynn,” he said, “the thing is in the bag. I’ve never known such a change in anybody as you’ve made in that submerged lady. Miraculous!”

“It’s all done with mirrors,” said Deborah. To Jonathan, later, she added, “All that poor girl needed was a bit of self-confidence. I don’t know why she lacked it. She’s really quite pretty when she gets animated, and I’m sure Lynn is fond of her.”

“Probably scared of letting him down, then,” said Jonathan. “After all, she hasn’t given him a son, and a man with Lynn’s business acumen must want one to carry on the firm.”

“There’s an adopted boy, Jasper.”

“Not the same thing. Anyway, I’m grateful to you for our two boys, and that reminds me. They want to get down here for the Saturday performance of the play. I’m not having any of that nonsense, though.”

“I’d love them to come. It’s good of them to bother. Why don’t you want them to be there?”

Jonathan laughed.

“What! Have them come and see me making love to another woman?”

“Yes,” said Deborah, “there is that. I get quite a qualm when I watch you and Barbara Bourton on stage together. You are so very convincing and she is so accomplished and beautiful. I’m very glad Hermia perfers Lysander to Demetrius, but you with your ‘Relent, sweet Hermia’ would melt a heart of stone.”

“That’s what I had to do when I wanted you to marry me. Just part of my technique, that’s all.”

“Oh, yes? And what about that little scene in the woods?” She mocked it. “ ‘Oh, why rebuke you him that loves you so?’ ”

“Well, why do you?” asked Jonathan, laughing. “Anyway, what about you and the handsome, virile Donald? You both turn that quarrel scene into a lovers’ tiff. It’s disgraceful how seductive you are and how he reacts, although he’s supposed to be having the devil of a set-to with you. His ‘Why should Titania cross her Oberon?’ is a masterpiece of snaky pleading, and his masterful rendering of ‘Tarry, rash wanton; am I not thy lord?’ is every suburban lady’s dream of being dominated by a sunburnt, cleanlimbed chap in riding-boots and a solar topee astride his Arab stallion.”

“Thank you very much! I admit the charge,” said Deborah, enjoying the game, although she knew it was a slightly dangerous one, “but please compare my pert reply. You can hardly call that love-making.”

“Why not? Titania is obviously eaten up with jealousy. She reminds him that he, in the shape of Corin, sat all day playing on pipes of corn and versing love to amorous Phillida. If you ask me, Titania was desperate to share Oberon’s bed and company once more.”

“I’m sure she was, and anyway, the play ends with everybody happy. I’ll tell you whose behaviour is going to queer the pitch unless Brian Yorke can do something about it. What about that wretched man Rinkley?”