by Pamela Brown
“We build a theatre for Fenchester!”
“We’ve realized our ambitions!”
“And now – the winners. What a splendid band of young actors!” She turned and smiled at them. “And didn’t they enjoy acting? Not more than we did watching. It was an example of characterization, and the emotional parts were wonderful. I shall never forget the performance of Pearl, nor the heartrending sobs of her little brother, who, up till the time that she took off her cap, I quite believed to be a little boy. Saddler himself was gloriously brutal, and his wife was a sympathetic little portrayal, and what a sweet voice! Jennifer was a bit stiff; perhaps compared with the circus folk she should be so, but her acrobatics were splendid. This company is accomplished in many ways, for the handsome young man who played Peter played the violin equally well. The clown, though a small part, was well done, and the person who did the charming backcloth deserves special praise. There were faults, but none worth mentioning. The actors’ accents were well sustained and the climax excellent. I propose we give the winners an extra clap.” She led the applause. “Now will their producer come for the Seymore Trophy?”
Smiling, she unwrapped a parcel that she was carrying, displaying the bronze figure of a woman holding out a laurel wreath. In a dream Lyn walked up to the footlights, her cheeks flushed to match the red velvet of her dress.
“Are you the little producer?” she was asked by the amazed Mrs. Seymore.
“Well, yes, in name,” she replied, smiling up into the friendly eyes, “but the play produced itself.”
She took the heavy statue and turned to the applauding audience. What was she expected to do now? Why, of course – behave just as in the word-picture she had painted to the others that day at Browcliffe. She curtsied, then looking up to the familiar faces in the gallery, kissed her hand. The applause grew deafening, and gradually the people rose in their seats, still clapping. The theatre stood and cheered and stamped, while Lyn bowed and smiled for an eternity.
19
THE CURTAIN FALLS
They lay on the cliff top, baking in the sunshine. Although they had only left the blue water five minutes ago they were nearly dry. Lyn, in a semi-coma of drowsy heat, went over the remarkable events that had just ended. Or had they just begun? After the contest Roma Seymore had talked with their parents, and expressed her delight when she heard that they were to have a professional training.
“But they must come to the B.A.G. School, of course,” she cried. The president here is the principal of it, and I’m sure he would love to have the opportunity of training them, wouldn’t you, Mr. Whitfield?”
Mr. Whitfield replied that he would, and when he found that Mrs. Halford had been a professional, informed them that he could take Nigel and the twins at a reduced rate. Mr. and Mrs. Halford made an expedition to London with Nigel, to look at the school and to buy him some new clothes, and for the last week the Blue Doors had talked of nothing but the B.A.G. Dramatic School. Nigel gave the most glowing descriptions of it, and could hardly wait till the autumn term began in September. The Blue Doors found themselves reverencing Nigel as he was about to depart.
“It seems like a dream.” Lyn spoke aloud, stretching herself luxuriously in the sun.
“Just what I was thinking,” said Vicky, sitting up and towelling her damp curls vigorously.
“I feel as if it’s still the day we came here two years ago. The time has flown and yet – so much has happened.”
“Gosh, hasn’t it!” Maddy was stirred by the thought. “The first thing that happened was Vicky teaching me to stand on my head.”
“Then you broke the window, Maddy.”
“Yes,” she agreed proudly. “I did the most important thing in the two years. If I hadn’t, we should never have found the theatre.”
“Then there was the tea-party at the Bells’.”
“And the first concert.”
“And the Nativity play.”
“And Stratford-on-Avon.”
“And the garden fête.”
“And the pantomime.”
“And the Easter concert.”
“And the bishop’s little meeting in the Corner House.”
“And the contest.”
“And me going up to London,” ended Nigel, and once more was plagued with fresh questions about the school.
“Now let’s think about the future …” began Lyn.
“There’ll be Nigel going in September.”
“We’ll throw a farewell party.”
“We shall be taking School Certificate in a year’s time.”
“We’ll go to dramatic school in a year next Christmas.” Sandra rolled over on her back. “Oh, we’re lucky. All our dreams have come true; all our ambitions have been realized; and all our castles in the air are now solid ones.”
“All because Nigel and the twins came,” put in Jeremy. “Even Maddy’s got her name in the paper, as she wished.”
They let their minds run over the gushing praise they had received from the Fenshire County Times.
“Haven’t we all changed since we’ve been together?” remarked Nigel.
“Rather!” agreed Maddy. “We were far too ‘refaned’ and highbrow before you came.”
“Maddy refaned! You make me laugh,” said Bulldog.
“But it’s true,” insisted Lyn. “We didn’t like jazz music – ”
“I don’t know – ” put in Jeremy.
“Go on with you! That’s only a pose. We didn’t like dancing particularly, and we thought far too much about being respectable to have a good time.”
“Well, you’ve done a lot for us,” said Vicky. “We never thought or spoke seriously till we met you, and we knew nothing about things that really matter. In fact, we were nit-witted.”
“We speak,” laughed Maddy, “as if we were paragons at the moment.”
“We’ve sort of cancelled out each other’s faults,” remarked Nigel. “Oh dear, I wish I hadn’t to be the first to venture out into the great big world.”
“What a silly thing to say!” reproached Lyn. “It’ll be a better adventure than if you were hampered by all of us.”
“And I shall never go,” sighed Maddy. “How sad!”
“But you’ll be luckier than any of us! You’ll come to the Blue Door Professional Theatre Company as soon as you leave school.”
A picture of the Seymore Trophy on its bracket above the blue door swept across Lyn’s mind. “At least we’ve got something to look after the theatre, while we’re not using it,” she remarked. “ I mean the trophy.”
“Yes, it looks marvellous on that shelf, doesn’t it? We must win some more.”
“My little yacht is still in the same place as two years ago,” said Nigel.
Following his gaze they looked out to where the yacht still tacked idly, a white spot against the blue.
“We’ll often come here when we’re professionals, won’t we?” said Maddy. “Not give it up for the more fashionable places.”
“Of course not,” they assured her. “We shall never be really fashionable ourselves, not as we should if we took jobs in London.”
“I shan’t be sorry to come back to Fenchester,” said Sandra. “I mean, we owe it something, don’t we? It gave us the theatre and nice audiences.”
“And each other,” added Vicky.
“Of course. ‘Each other’ is the most important.” They smiled round affectionately.
“I feel friendly towards the world in general,” announced Jeremy. “Today is a perfect day.”
“It’s the kind of day that sticks in your memory.”
“It seems to be sort of between the past and the future.”
The past was clear and colourful as a tapestry as they gazed out across the sea that was shrouded and misty as the future.
THE CURTAIN FALLS