Party Shoes, page 22
Mrs Andrews seemed to think it was an ordinary morning. She kissed Augustus and Benjamin and said they were very nice pages, whether their legs were short or long. She took the sheet away from Phoebe’s shoulders and said she thought that Phoebe’s scene was much too good to need any more rehearsing. Then she had an idea.
‘Suppose, as you’re all awake so early, that you cook the breakfast for me. You can go down and do it in your dressing gowns. As it’s a special day we’ll have boiled eggs.’
It was funny how much better everybody felt by the time they had cooked the breakfast. It was great fun having breakfast in their dressing gowns; they had never done that before. Even Dr Andrews and Mrs Andrews wore dressing gowns. Dr Andrews made them laugh about his. He said that they had all got to hide him if Miss Lipscombe came before he was dressed. If Miss Lipscombe saw him in his dressing gown he would never have the nerve to face her in his surgery.
After breakfast they got dressed and did what housework was to be done. Mrs Miggs, most unexpectedly, turned up.
‘I never would ’ave done,’ she told Mrs Andrews, ‘seein’ it’s the pageant an’ all, but young Alfie’s that above himself and obstreperous. “There’s nothin’ else for it,” I said to meself, “but to get out, or there would be words spoke which I should regret.”’
She then dashed round the house doing a great deal of work and singing ‘Rule, Britannia’.
When the work of the house was done Mrs Andrews called all the family into the dining room.
‘Now, darlings, two of you are to go and fetch the programmes from the printers. Benjamin and Augustus, will you go and pick up all the windfalls in the garden. The rest of you had better go up to the Abbey and help Mrs Mawser about the tea. I want everybody back here by twelve o’clock sharp. Lunch is at a quarter past.’
The morning passed wonderfully quickly. Sally and Christopher went to Linkwell for the programmes. Every shop in Linkwell had a poster about the pageant, and everybody they met said they were coming to the performance. In the end it had been decided that the dress rehearsal at two o’clock would be for children. Most of the boarding schools were not back, but all kinds of organizations were bringing children over. Junior Red Cross and St John’s, Girl Guides and Boy Scouts, Boys and Girls’ Training Corps, parties from churches, and, as well, innumerable individual children. In all, startling though it seemed, nearly a thousand children were expected. There could, of course, be no seating. Everybody, both for the dress rehearsal and for the real performance, had been asked to bring a rug or a cushion to sit on. There were a few seats right at the top of the lawn, up against the Abbey, but most people would prefer to be nearer to the stage.
The programmes were ready. Bundles and bundles and bundles of them. They were done up in two big paper parcels, but the printer knew Christopher and Sally and, of course, realized that they were simply bursting to see a programme, so he undid one of the parcels and took out two programmes for them to look at. They looked too splendid for words. Every scene put down under its date, and the names of all the principal people taking part in a row under each scene. Selina was down at the beginning and the end as ‘The Dreamer’. At the end of the programme was the name of everybody acting, in alphabetical order. There were so many names that they took up the whole of the back side of the programme.
Up at the Abbey the rest of the family were so busy that they forgot to feel worried. There would, of course, be no time for the actors to get away to tea between the dress rehearsal and the performance, and so there was tea for everybody at long trestle tables behind the men’s dressing tent. Every woman in the village had spared a pinch of tea and a little bit of sugar, and the farmers between them had sent the extra milk. The buns had been made in Linkwell. They had just been delivered when Selina, John, and Phoebe arrived. Boxes and boxes of buns. All to be carried to the tea table and laid out on plates.
Selina did not spend her whole morning helping with the buns for Philip called her away. There was nothing really that he wanted her for, but he wanted someone to talk to and to go round with him and see that nothing was missing. Everything was in perfect order. The wooden platform for the band. All the props ready on their right sides of the stage. The mounting block, by which the knights got on to their horses, waiting under the trees. In the dressing rooms everybody’s clothes were lying neatly labelled and ready in piles. At the far end of each tent were make-up tables. Philip looked at his watch.
‘The make-up men ought to be here at any time now. I told them they’d have to start making up at one o’clock. It’s nearly twelve now.’
Selina was surprised it was so late.
‘Oh, goodness, I must get the others. We’re having lunch at a quarter past twelve, and we swore we wouldn’t be late.’
Philip was clearly in that sort of mood when he hated to think of any actor leaving the Abbey grounds. He wanted them there all the time.
‘Be sure to be back here at one o’clock sharp. I shall be wanting you for any amount of things.’
It was when they got back to the house that the sick feeling of the morning returned. Quite suddenly they all knew they did not want any lunch. They told Mrs Andrews.
‘I don’t feel hungry, Mum,’ John said. ‘I think I’ll skip eating. I’m on in the first scene, I’d better go and get made up.’
‘I’d really rather go up to the Abbey,’ said Sally. ‘I expect my children will be early and they might be wanting something.’
Christopher said:
‘I’ll go with her.’
‘I take hours and hours to put on my May Queen dress,’ said Phoebe. ‘I think I’d better go now.’
Mrs Andrews opened her oven door and looked in.
‘Nobody is going to the rehearsal unless they eat their lunch.’ There were murmurs and expostulations, but she paid no attention. ‘I know how you all feel. You couldn’t eat a mouthful, but you don’t know what I’ve got in my oven. We’ve had a present. It’s roast chicken.’
It was surprising what happened to that chicken. The moment they saw it they all began to feel hungry and, though Dr Andrews served it very carefully, it only just went round for two helpings each. When the carcass was taken away there was not, he said, enough to feed an ant. While John and Christopher were removing the chicken carcass and bringing in the stewed apples and custard, the telephone rang. The telephone would not be ringing about a patient on a Thursday, so they all held their breaths. What had happened? Was some important person ill? Had something gone wrong at the camp so that the band and the jeeps could not come? Dr Andrews came back smiling.
‘That was Dr Wilson. He said he doesn’t care if there’s an outbreak of bubonic plague this afternoon, he’s not going to miss seeing me act. He still insists I’m going to be Henry the Eighth.’
It was not very easy to swallow the apples and custard, but as Mrs Andrews passed each plate she said, in a voice that was meant to be obeyed:
‘It’s got to be eaten and then you can go.’
John finished first. He got up. Dr Andrews said:
‘You go on and get your make-up on. I’ll bring Selina and Mr Laws in the car.’ He turned to Mrs Andrews. ‘What about you and Augustus and Benjamin?’
‘What about me?’ said Phoebe.
‘And me?’ said Sally.
Mrs Andrews shook her head.
‘Selina and John are on at the beginning and they’ve got to go now, but Sally, Christopher, Phoebe, Augustus, and Benjamin have plenty of time. We’re going to clear the lunch things and wash up.’
Sally was appalled.
‘Oh, Mum, not today. It’s more than I can bear to be here when so much is happening at the Abbey.’
Mrs Andrews began collecting the dirty plates.
‘I know exactly how you feel, darling, but it’s going to be more than the make-up men can bear if everybody’s clamouring round them at once. It isn’t one o’clock yet. We’ll clear away and wash up and even then you’ll be at the Abbey by half past one.’
22. Dress Rehearsal
THE AUDIENCE were arriving. The lawn seemed to be covered with children all talking at once and all terribly excited. In the tents there was an uproar … The make-up men were the only people who were absolutely calm. They went on saying methodically:
‘What are you meant to be?’
To the children they gave a dab of rouge and a little bit of lipstick, but all the grown-up people they made up most carefully. Mrs Day had been specially made up and the effect, when she was finished, was startling. She looked incredibly like pictures of Queen Elizabeth.
In spite of all the care that Mrs Andrews and Mrs Mawser had taken everybody lost bits of their clothes. There was a continual roar of ‘Who’s taken my hat? I know I put it down here.’ ‘Has anybody got on a pair of tights that doesn’t belong to them?’ Then suddenly there came a sound which silenced everybody. The band was playing the overture.
Philip, using his megaphone, went first to one tent and then to the other, and outside each he called:
‘Stand by, everybody. Overture and beginners.’
Philip wanted to see the dress rehearsal from the front, so he had arranged that after the first call Selina should see that all the actors got on.
‘It’ll be all right, ducky,’ he said. ‘Keep shouting at them. They all know which scene they’re in and you ought not to have any trouble. They’ve been rehearsed enough, goodness knows.’
Selina knew that everybody had been rehearsed enough, but she also knew that did not mean that they knew when they ought to go on to the stage. It was never any good arguing with Philip, but she did wish he did not want to see the performance from the front, and could be behind and shout to the actors himself. Philip came over to where she was standing ready to make her entrance. He put the megaphone down beside her.
‘There you are, my pet. It’s all yours. I’m going to the upper lawn now. Don’t let anyone miss an entrance or I’ll skin you alive.’
The overture was coming to an end. Selina opened her book. This was the easy entrance, but even so her heart missed a beat. The music stopped. She took a deep breath. She was on the stage.
It was over. She was off. The music had started, the ghosts were dancing. Sally was hanging about the side of the stage with her maypole dancers. She looked quite lovely. A wreath of roses round her hair, her vividness accentuated by rouge. Her stiff velvet Elizabethan bodice, her ruff and her floating skirt slit up at the side, showing almost the whole of one leg, suited her beautifully.
‘Oh, Selina, what was it like? Are there a lot of people there?’
Selina could only mutter.
‘Couldn’t look. I had to read my book.’ Then she picked up the megaphone, and was counting the actors. She went out to the back of the stage, and raising her megaphone, shouted to her uncle, ‘Are you all there? And the horses?’
The doctor was already up on Lucky. He cantered over to her.
‘We are three short this afternoon. We expected to be. Philip knows three of the farmers couldn’t get away. They’ll be here for the performance.’
Selina found an intelligent monk.
‘Are you all here?’
‘Two short the other side, but they’ll be here for the performance.’
Selina knew that John and Mr Laws were ready. The doctor had delivered Mr Laws himself and she had seen him made up in a tonsured wig looking extraordinarily handsome. John had promised to see that Mr Laws was at his entrance at the right moment. Selina gave a thankful sigh. That was one scene accounted for. Now she had to find Phoebe, her pages and ladies-in-waiting, and Miss Lipscombe. Sally could be trusted to look after her own maypole dancers, but there was all that crowd. They would be sure to need rounding up. John rushed up to her.
‘Selina, I’ve lost Mr Laws.’
The first music was coming to an end. There were loudspeakers fixed at the back of the stage so that the actors knew where the pageant had got to. The moment the ghost music stopped the monks would process on, chanting. When they had finished and gone off the knights would come on. Selina turned a desperate face to John.
‘You had him last.’
‘I know. He was standing beside me. I just turned to speak to somebody and he was gone.’
Selina did not waste time telling John what she thought of such carelessness.
‘Go back to the entrance and wait. I’ll find him. If he isn’t there in time you warn Uncle Jim he’s missing.’
The ghost music came to an end. The ghosts glided off. One of the monks pitched a note, and the others took up the chant. With heads down, two and two, they came on to the stage. John could hardly stand still, he was in such a fuss. Would Selina find Mr Laws in time? The chant was coming to an end, the leading monks were off the stage. There was a pounding of hoofs, Dr Andrews and his knights were on.
Dr Andrews reined in Lucky at what was supposed to be the door of the Abbey.
‘Halloo there.’ He turned to his companions. ‘Knock on the door, one of you.’
John knew he ought not to be seen, but he had to poke his head through the entrance.
‘Dad, Dad, Mr Laws isn’t here yet.’
Dr Andrews was splendid. He might have been expecting Mr Laws to be missing and to have rehearsed what he would do if he was. He started a kind of mock battle with one of the knights, and while he was fighting he said to the others:
‘Shout and make a noise. The Abbot’s missing.’
Selina was desperate. Where was Mr Laws? He was not in the men’s dressing tent. He was not in the ladies’ dressing tent. Nobody had seen him. Everybody was looking. Then suddenly Selina had an idea. The sunk rose garden. There were not many roses in it, but you could see a rose or two from the back of the stage. It was just the sort of thing to have tempted Mr Laws.
He was standing gazing down at a rose. Even in the state of mind that she was in Selina could see how extraordinarily like an abbot he looked. She gripped his arm.
‘Quick. You ought to be on the stage.’
Mr Laws looked at her with a distant air.
‘Curious, Selina, this little fellow is an old-fashioned moss rose. You seldom see them nowadays.’
Selina could have shaken him. Looking at moss roses in the middle of a pageant! She took his hand.
‘Run. For goodness’ sake, run.’
There was one thing about Mr Laws, he could not be put out by a thing like having missed his entrance. He came on to the rostrum with his monks behind him with as much dignity and calm as if it was the right moment in the pageant for him to have come on. Selina just waited to hear him say his first words, then, throwing up her eyes and making a most expressive face at John, she rushed off to find the actors in Phoebe’s scene.
She did what Philip had done. She went first to the men’s dressing tent and then to the women’s and called out through her megaphone:
‘Everybody for the May Queen scene.’
Then she went into the women’s tent to see that Phoebe and Miss Lipscombe were ready. She had no intention of any more of her leading actors missing their entrances. The moment she got inside the tent she could see that something was wrong. Phoebe’s face was scarlet, much more scarlet than any rouge would have made it. Her eyes were blazing and she was beating Benjamin with her bouquet.
‘You did it on purpose. I know you did it on purpose. You’re hateful and mean and now I can’t be May Queen, and it’s all your fault.’
Benjamin was always a very sweet-looking little boy, but in his miniature Henry the Eighth suit he looked absolutely enchanting. As usual he was quite unperturbed, in fact he did not at first seem to notice that Phoebe was hitting him with a bunch of white daisies, because he was humming. Selina saw that Phoebe would not be able to answer a sensible question. She looked at Augustus.
‘What’s up?’
Augustus pointed to crimson marks on Phoebe’s train.
‘Benjamin’s nose bled. We hadn’t got a handkerchief, so we used that.’
‘Dirty beast,’ raged Phoebe. ‘He made it bleed on purpose. Now I can’t be the May Queen.’
Benjamin looked at her in a very superior way.
‘My dear, nobody can make their nose bleed a’ purpose.’
Miss Lipscombe had so got herself into the part of being the schoolteacher, and ordering all the children about, that she was being a schoolteacher off the stage as well as on it. It came in very useful at that moment. She had a large handkerchief and four safety pins.
‘Be quiet, Phoebe, disturbing everybody. I shall just pin this handkerchief over the stains. They’ll never show.’
Mrs Andrews had been in the other tent helping some of Queen Elizabeth’s courtiers to dress. She asked what had happened. Phoebe began to tell her. She was so sorry for herself that while she was telling the story she was almost crying. Mrs Andrews knew that she was excited and worked up about the pageant, so instead of telling her not to make such a fuss, as she would have done ordinarily, she gave her a kiss.
‘It’ll be all right, darling. I will make a spray of white roses before the performance and I’ll sew them on so that the stains will never show.’ She knelt down beside Benjamin to see that his face was clean. ‘If your nose bleeds again, don’t use Phoebe’s train.’ She took her handkerchief out of the pocket of the overall she was wearing. ‘I’ll tuck this inside your tunic, Augustus. If Benjamin’s nose bleeds, give it to him.’
The ghosts were on again. Selina relaxed. Everybody was ready. In this scene not one actor was missing. Alfie, Miss Lipscombe, Phoebe and her Court, and all the village. If only, she thought, they do this scene nicely, and there isn’t much to go wrong, it may make up for the muddle in the last scene.
Selina was being too optimistic when she thought there was nothing much that could go wrong. It was quite true, Phoebe’s was an easy scene. Everybody liked acting in it, and it was full of gaiety and movement. The children in the audience obviously adored it. They clapped and clapped when Phoebe came on, and they roared with laughter when Alfie was playing around as Jack-in-the-Green. Then came the maypole dances. Miss Lipscombe brought on the maypole and stood it in its proper place. She even looked quite nice holding it in spite of the fact that she had forgotten to take off her pince-nez. The band played a chord and all the children took hold of their proper ribbons. The maypole dance began.
