by Pamela Brown
‘It wasn’t necessary to have the whole script redone,’ she explained, ‘only these little alterations.’
It made the script very difficult to follow, and when it came to reading it through, poor Sunny did not know where she was. She had obviously never seen a play script before, let alone a television script with all the action down the left side and all the dialogue down the right. She read the wrong lines and couldn’t see when it was her turn, so that Maddy had to nudge her. Some of the cast raised their eyebrows doubtfully, but Morgan Evans said encouragingly, ‘It’ll be fine when you know it by heart.’
‘This acting business,’ said Sunny naively, ‘it ain’t at all easy.’
She took everything in such good part that she even won over the eyebrow-raisers.
Next they walked through the patterns that Moyra had marked on the floor. Here Maddy was as lost as Sunny. She always had had more difficulty with her moves than with her lines, and now she was constantly finding herself walking through a wall—a chalk-line one—or standing on a camera marked on the floor. Morgan Evans displayed limitless patience.
‘Don’t worry, girls and boys,’ he told them. ‘This is only Tuesday. By Saturday it’ll be altogether different.’
‘Only three whole days—no, half days,’ Maddy wailed in horror.
‘My dear child, you’ve got time to learn War and Peace by Saturday if you really set your mind to it,’ Morgan Evans told her. ‘And this is only a little short sketch.’
Maddy could manage her long screeds of announcement and explanation quite well, because while doing them she only had to stand still on one spot.
‘Don’t worry,’ Morgan Evans kept telling her. ‘When you get into the studio it’ll all seem clear as daylight to you. Anyway, the viewers aren’t going to see next Saturday’s performance, and you’ll have got over the worst by the time they actually see you.’
That evening Sunny went round to Fitzherbert Street, and they went through their lines together. Miss Tibbs had certainly come up to scratch and had given Sunny some very good lines, but Sunny had no idea of how to learn a part, and Maddy found herself trying to teach her the rudiments of drama, as they went along. In doing so she found that she had learnt a lot herself, and it was very late indeed when Mrs Bosham brought them up some cocoa, and insisted on Maddy going to bed.
‘My folks will think I’m lost, Miss Maddy,’ said Sunny between gulps of cocoa. ‘I sure must run.’ And down the stairs she hurried.
The next day’s rehearsal was much better. It seemed somehow as if everything had fallen into place overnight. Sunny was still a little bit behind everyone else, which was only to be expected, as she had never acted in her life before.
The press cameramen who were supposed to have come on the Monday now turned up. And by this time everyone was really in working clothes with a vengeance—jeans and head scarves and everything. Sunny had her hair tied up in a large turban. The photographers were thrilled with her, and she quite stole the limelight, though Maddy came in for a good share of it.
When the photographers had gone, Morgan Evans heaved a sigh of relief.
‘Now, let’s get on with it. Through it again, please, and watch your cues. It’s still very rough. And Maddy, try and mean what you say, and stop trying to make other people giggle.’
Maddy looked very grave.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Somehow it just seems to come over me.’
‘Well, if you do it in the studio on Saturday something will come over Mr Stanley—an apoplectic fit, I should think. This show has got to be good—there’s an option clause in your contract, you know.’
Maddy didn’t know, because she had not seen the contract, which had gone direct to her father to be signed. But she gathered that Morgan Evans meant that if she were no good on Saturday they could throw her out. So she pulled up her socks and tried not to get the giggles, but it was very difficult with Sunny about.
All the cast had been for wardrobe fittings for their costumes, with the exception of Maddy and Sunny who were told to wear their own clothes. ‘Bright summer dresses,’ said Morgan Evans, ‘but not too white.’
‘Can I wear the same all the way through?’ asked Maddy.
‘No, I should change for the sketch, if you can make it. There’ll be plenty of time during the dancing.’
‘S’posing I get a zip stuck, or something,’ said Maddy, alarmed.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll have a dresser to help you.’
‘Shall I really? Goodness, how important I’m getting,’ said Maddy.
As Saturday approached, Morgan Evans began to work the cast like slaves. He stood in front of them, and more or less conducted—waving his arms and gesticulating at them to give more life, more speed—or whatever he thought was required. Once Sunny had mastered her lines she improved beyond measure.
‘There,’ cried Miss Tibbs, ‘I told you she was a “natural”.’
At the end of the Friday rehearsal Morgan Evans said, ‘Well, that’s all we can do. Once we get into the studios there will be so many technical considerations we shan’t have time to do any polishing up on performances. Maddy, go to bed early. You look tired. With those circles under your eyes you’ll look like a little panda on the screen. See you all at crack of dawn tomorrow—in costume and make-up by nine-thirty.’
Maddy was so far removed from her lessons that afternoon that she was twice reprimanded and threatened with being sent to Mrs Seymore. When school was over everyone crowded round to wish her luck.
‘I do wish tomorrow’s show was actually going on,’ said Snooks. ‘I want to see you…’
‘Oh well, you’ll only have to wait another week for the grand première,’ joked Maddy. ‘Don’t miss it. Madeleine Fayne, the only acting panda in captivity. That’s what the producer said I looked like this morning.’
Zillah could tell from Maddy’s manner that she was extremely worried, so insisted on treating her to the cinema to take her mind off it, but as the film they saw was all about commercial radio shows in America it didn’t really help much.
‘I am sorry, I didn’t know that was what it was about,’ said Zillah as they walked home.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Maddy. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t take in much of what was going on.’
The lines of the script had been running through her head throughout the entire performance. And when she went to bed she didn’t think she would be able to sleep. But she did, and was quite surprised when she woke up to find Mrs Bosham standing by the bed with a cup of tea.
‘As it’s a special occasion…’
Poor Sunny was in quite a state of nerves when they met outside the Academy, and kept plying Maddy with questions about what it would be like.
‘And these cameras, now. How big are they? Like a movie camera?’
‘No,’ said Maddy. ‘Enormous—on wheels with two men riding on them.’
‘Two men on them!’
‘And the mikes are on another monstrosity on wheels,’ said Maddy. ‘I can’t explain. But you’ll see. Don’t be surprised at anything!’
‘Oh, mercy me,’ wailed Sunny. ‘I don’t know how I came to be doing this at all.’
They cheered up a little when they reached the studios and were given the key to a small, neat dressing-room that had enormous mirrors on the walls with bright electric lights all round.
Having unpacked their cases and hung up their clothes they wondered what they ought to do next.
‘P’raps we’d better change,’ said Maddy.
While they were changing there was a knock at the door.
‘Calling Miss Fayne and Miss Mackenzie,’ shouted a voice.
‘Ooh,’ squealed Maddy, ‘we’re not made up.’
She peered round the door at a young man who was studying a list.
‘You two aren’t down for make-up,’ he said. ‘It isn’t necessary.’
‘Oh, what a shame,’ wailed Maddy. ‘I did want to be made up. Which is the way to the studio?’
&
nbsp; ‘Come with me; I’ll show you,’ said the young man, and set off at such a rate that Maddy had to trot to keep up with him.
‘Oh dear, I haven’t got my script—did I remember to put on clean socks?—oh, where’s my hankie?’
At each step Maddy kept remembering something she had forgotten.
When they entered the studio Sunny stopped dead in amazement.
‘My, my, what a conglomeration!’ she cried.
Conglomeration was the perfect word for it. In front of them were the actual settings which in the rehearsal room had only been indicated by chalk lines or represented by chairs; and there was so much equipment and so many cameras and booms that it seemed impossible to move.
‘I’m done sure I’ll never find my way around!’ exclaimed Sunny.
‘Oh, yes, you will,’ said Maddy. ‘Here, let’s have a look at the sets first of all.’
The rest of the cast, wearing darkish make-up, were also exploring the sets, trying doors to see if they opened and shut properly, leaning against tree trunks to make sure they would not fall over.
There was considerable activity around the cameras, most of which seemed to be in pieces, having their insides checked over. Suddenly Morgan Evans appeared in the studio, looking very spruce and energetic.
‘Have you discovered your announcement set, Maddy?’ he asked.
‘Er—no, not yet.’ Maddy looked round wildly.
‘It’s in the same position as it was in the rehearsal room,’ he told her.
‘Yes, but everything looks different. Oh, is that it?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Would you mind getting over into it, so that the camera can get lined up on you. We’ll try and run straight through, but if we have to stop occasionally to check things, don’t be surprised. Remember that we really have got the dancers and changes today.’
‘Oh, have we? Yes, of course,’ said Maddy. She went over to a plain draped backing, with a table and chair in front of it, and sat down.
9
MADEMOISELLE X
The rest of that day was the most nerve-wracking Maddy had ever spent. Despite Morgan Evans’s announcement that they would ‘run straight through’ they stopped and started continually. Maddy made three false starts on her opening speech. The first time she was using too much voice, the second time she was stopped for her chair to be moved a fraction of an inch to the right. And on the third occasion one of the dancers walked right across the front of the camera that was focused on Maddy.
It seemed as though they would never get as far as the sketch. The dancers and singers had been rehearsed separately by Morgan Evans’s assistant, and this was the first time that the producer had seen them. All sorts of things seemed to be wrong with them, and Morgan Evans came down from the control room to the studio floor and put them through their paces.
Maddy was longing to go and watch, but did not dare leave her little bit of set. She had not been able to rehearse the interview properly, for the girl and boy who were to be interviewed were not arriving until the afternoon. By the middle of the morning she was ravenous, and could not imagine how she was going to last out until lunch-time. The lights were so hot that she felt much too warm, even in a summer dress.
The actors in the sketch sat about in bored attitudes, wondering when their calls would come and watching Maddy with, what seemed to her, coldly critical eyes.
The amount of activity in the studio was fantastic. The heavy cameras tracked silently into position and swarms of technicians walked about, stood and stared, adjusted lights, argued with each other, and one even came and held some sort of meter right under Maddy’s nose, so that she sniffed at it and said, ‘Delicious.’
He did not seem at all amused, however, and she felt rather silly. By lunch-time they still had not got as far as the sketch, and when they were told to break for an hour Sunny came up to Maddy and said, ‘My stomach keeps doing the somersaults. I sure wish they’d get on with things.’
They went out to the restaurant where Maddy had had coffee the first time she had come to see Morgan Evans, but by now they were no longer hungry, and only toyed with their food.
‘I can’t see how we shall ever be ready to go on,’ wailed Maddy. ‘We haven’t rehearsed the interviews or the sketch, and we go on at five. And I know I’m terrible. I can tell from the way people are watching me. And the sponsors won’t like me. And I’ll get the sack. Oh, how awful! I shall never be able to hold up my head at the Academy again.’
‘It’s all right for you, Miss Maddy,’ Sunny told her. ‘You been taught this acting, but I ain’t never tried before.’
When they returned to the studio things seemed much more organised.
They started off with the sketch, which went quite well, although there were many stops and starts. Sunny was a big hit and made the studio staff laugh several times.
‘Doesn’t it seem tragic,’ said Maddy to Rita, ‘that all this trouble is being taken, and no one is going to see it except a few silly, fat old men.’
‘Yes,’ said Rita shrewdly, ‘but if they like us, we’re in, and if they don’t—we’re not.’
‘Will the first programme that really goes on be the same as this one, do you think?’
Rita shrugged.
‘Don’t know,’ she said. ‘It all depends on Them.’
‘Maddy,’ yelled the floor manager in the distance. ‘Madeleine Fayne, please.’
And Maddy realised that she had missed her cue for the closing announcement.
‘You’ve got to be nippy here,’ the floor manager told her. ‘After you exit at the end of the sketch you’ve got to hurry round here, behind the scenery, and change in the quick-change room, then back into your own little set, and you’ve only got a minute and a half. Now, do you think you can do it?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Maddy confidently. ‘It’s just that I forgot altogether this time. And it won’t matter if my buttons aren’t done up properly down the back, will it?’
‘No,’ laughed the floor manager, ‘as long as your dress hangs on you, that’s all that matters.’
Just then the call-boy came up to the floor manager and said, ‘The girl and the boy for the interview have arrived. Shall I bring them up? Do they want make-up?’
‘Yes, bring them up,’ said the floor manager. ‘Before we decide about make-up we’d better see them on the tube,’ meaning on the television screen.
Maddy was greatly relieved to hear that the boy and girl had arrived, and that she would have an opportunity to rehearse with them. To her surprise they both greeted her in excellent English, shaking hands politely.
The French boy was very small for his age, and extremely serious. He was accompanied by a fierce-looking man, who gabbled away angrily at him in French every few minutes.
The Persian girl was about sixteen, and quite attractive, with lovely limpid eyes, but rather a long nose. Maddy found the interview extremely difficult. She had learnt the questions she was to ask, but the girl and the boy constantly anticipated them, so that by the time Maddy got to a certain question it had already been answered. The most difficult thing was to bring the interviews to a close gracefully. At first both the boy and the girl were shy, but by the end of the conversation they were in full swing. The first time she went through with the girl, Maddy saw the floor manager making ‘Cut’ gestures by drawing the side of his hand across his throat, and she said firmly, ‘Oh, we’ve got to stop now. Sorry.’
Everyone laughed, and Morgan Evans came down into the studio and said quite kindly, ‘No, Maddy, you mustn’t finish it off like that. If you’ve got to stop abruptly just say very firmly, “Well, thank you very much, so-and-so, for coming along to the studio today. We’ve certainly learnt a lot about your country”—something like that. But never, “We’ve got to stop now.”’
‘Sorry,’ said Maddy. ‘From the faces that the floor manager was making I thought it must be urgent.’
At last they were able to get a run through the whole show, and ev
eryone began to feel better about it. Morgan Evans came down from the control room with a sheaf of notes on their performances.
‘Don’t grin so much, Maddy. Rita, don’t sway when you’re in close-up. You keep up a constant roll as though you were on board ship. You’ll make everybody seasick. The dancers must hold their pose at the end until we’ve faded. Some of them moved’—and so on for a long time.
Then he said, ‘And now The World of Youth editorial board want to see you all at tea in Room Fifty. If you’ll follow me.’
When Maddy saw the tea that was laid out on a long table she gave a wail of dismay.
‘Oh, no! Not before the show! I just couldn’t. Meringues! And I can’t touch one.’
She was so deeply upset by this bad bit of planning that she went up to Mr Stanley of The World of Youth and said earnestly, ‘Do you think they’ll clear all this away while we’re doing the programme?’
‘I expect so,’ said Mr Stanley. ‘We shall be having a conference after the show.’
‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Maddy. ‘You see, my tummy is so full of butterflies at the moment I haven’t got any room even for a meringue, and I was wondering whether I could come back here afterwards and make up for it.’
Mr Stanley smiled indulgently.
‘I’ll see to it that a special plate of cakes is reserved for you until after the show,’ he promised.
‘Oh, thank you, that’s very kind of you,’ said Maddy gratefully, and went in search of a cup of tea and a dry biscuit.
Everyone seemed in much the same state of excitement and the tea was hardly touched.
‘We’ll have the whole spread left till after the show,’ said Morgan Evans. ‘You won’t mind if we eat while we talk at the conference, will you?’
‘Not at all,’ said Mr Stanley. ‘I’m hoping there won’t be a great deal to be said.’
All too soon the call-boy came knocking at the door, to take the cast down to have their make-up touched up. To Maddy’s delight she had her face powdered, and her lashes and eyebrows darkened a little. Sunny’s face was powdered too, with the darkest powder they could find, for under the lights her skin was apt to shine as though it had been polished.