Stratford Jewel

by Oliver, Marina

  'The tennis club's arranging a special tournament,' she said one evening. 'Will you enter the Ladies' doubles with me, Rosa?'

  Rosa was sitting beside the fire with a fairy's costume spread around her. 'I suppose so, but I feel so exhausted that when the Festival's over I'll sleep for a month.'

  'You shouldn't do so much,' Celia chided. 'Leave it to others.'

  'What others? Everyone we can find is working hard. If we don't work eighteen hours a day the costumes won't be ready,' Rosa pointed out tartly.

  'I've been doing other things,' Celia said defensively. 'I'm making my costumes.'

  'They don't have to be sewn with tiny stitches that are practically invisible. We need costumes for everyone, however badly they've been cobbled together, not perfect garments for half the cast.'

  'Oh, very well, give me a cloak. But what about the tennis? Will Adam be your partner in the mixed doubles?'

  'I don't know.'

  'Max won't still be here, will he?'

  'Why should I know his plans? If you really will do one of the cloaks it would be a marvellous help. I'll go and fetch one.' Rosa hurriedly left the room, hoping her flushed cheeks would cool down by the time she returned.

  She didn't know Max Higham's plans and was reluctant to admit how much she wanted to know when he would be leaving Stratford. Most of the time he seemed to avoid her, and on several occasions she'd seen him and Agnes walking to the Temporary Theatre together. When they did talk he never mentioned his plans. They spoke only of the Festival, the work they were both doing, and the progress of the Rebuilding Fund appeal. The amounts being raised were reported regularly in the newspapers.

  When she returned to the parlour she found Jack and her father discussing their own concerns. They had various papers spread out on a table and were poring over them. Celia grinned conspiratorially at Rosa.

  'The endless debate about whether to buy a motor van,' she said quietly. 'I do wish they'd make up their minds. It's such a boring subject.'

  Rosa grinned back, thankful that Celia's attention had been diverted from Max. 'Jack would never agree to get rid of the Shires,' she said softly. 'He loves those horses.'

  'Father's talking of having both. Harry can drive a motor car.'

  'How do you know?' Rosa was surprised. She'd very seldom spoken to Harry, who'd come to them just after Christmas, and whom she regarded as surly, though he seemed to do his work well.

  'He mentioned it one day,' Celia said vaguely. 'He could drive a van and leave Jack with his precious horses. But Father's thinking about having boats on the river – you know, punts and so on people can hire.'

  'He's never mentioned that before,' Rosa said, surprised.

  'He has now. It would be better fun than delivery vans. I can just imagine floating along the Avon with someone like Gilbert.'

  Rosa glanced at Celia, her eyes narrowed. Gilbert Meadows was one of the minor actors in the Company. In his mid twenties, he had a reputation as a ladies' man. Startlingly handsome, with a broad brow under smooth black hair, an excellent profile, regular features, full, mobile lips under a neat moustache, and a firm dimpled chin, he'd been called the young John Barrymore. He was always ready with a smile and a pleasant word, or practical help such as a steadying hand and willingness to carry parcels or move heavy bolts of material around. She knew he'd been paying her sister particular attentions, but Celia laughed off teasing comments from the other actors, and never seemed put out when Gilbert flirted with other girls.

  'Gilbert's going to introduce me to Henry Ainley,' Celia confided, glancing to make sure that her father was still preoccupied.

  'The actor?' Rosa was startled. So that was why Celia encouraged Gilbert. 'Isn't he the one Mother was always talking about, who was such a wonderful Shylock here?'

  'Yes, the year after you were born, but they still talk about it. Now he's a manager, the New Theatre in London. Gilbert hopes to go there after the Festival, and he's sure Mr Ainley will give me a part too.'

  Rosa felt a sudden surge of jealousy. More than anything she was determined to try her own fortune on the London stage, and she was talented enough to succeed, more talented than Celia who relied on beauty and facile charm rather than ability. 'You won't be able to go to London,' she exclaimed, and Celia hushed her anxiously. 'You know Father is utterly against it,' Rosa went on more quietly, having made sure that Mr Greenwood was still absorbed in his discussion with Jack.

  'If I don't go how can I become an actress?' Celia demanded petulantly. 'I have a plan, but not now! I'll tell you later, in bed.'

  The sisters shared a large room looking out over the stableyard. Rosa demanded to be told what Celia planned. 'Father still insists he won't agree to our leaving Stratford,' she warned Celia. 'I think he's gradually coming round but we have to be careful, not upset him.'

  'Heaps of our friends have gone to colleges in other towns,' Celia said urgently. 'It's the thought we might be alone that worries him. But if we were both offered parts in London, he'd surely agree? If Mr Ainley can offer you a part too, or even a job making costumes, Father would have to agree. He couldn't be so cruel as to ruin my entire life!'

  'We don't have any friends or relatives in London where we could stay,' Rosa said, half eager, half resentful that she might be beholden to Celia for this chance.

  Celia brushed this aside. 'Gilbert can recommend several perfectly respectable lodging houses where young actresses stay.'

  Rosa doubted whether their father would trust any recommendation from the young actor, but there was no point in arguing. Still, a way might be found. She might achieve her dearest wish and tread the boards of London theatres. And there, a niggling little voice inside her head told her, she could forget Max Higham, about whom she thought far too much for her comfort.

  *

  Somehow the Company achieved miracles. The stage, though carpenters were working on it until the last minute, was ready. Costumes had been collected or made, scenery designed, made and painted. The first play to be performed, on April the twelfth as planned, was The Second Part of Henry IV. Rosa had the tiniest part as an attendant to Lady Percy, and had sat up half the night finishing her own costume, for she'd been far too busy doing all the others to even think about it until the last minute.

  She had just one entrance, and found a corner amidst the piled scenery where she could listen, out of the way but a part of this historic occasion.

  When the lights came on the curtain was raised and Rumour began the prologue. Rosa suddenly grinned. How appropriate. Rumours had been flying through the town ever since the fire. Most people blamed a carelessly discarded cigarette, others were convinced the fire had been deliberate.

  'There are people who want the Memorial Theatre in London.'

  'Especially the Old Vic.'

  'They don't like Coriolanus.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Say it's too political, the way it's being done.'

  'But they won't beat us! Its still the Birthday Play.'

  No, they wouldn't beat this Company, Rosa thought proudly as she listened to the actors on stage. It was a privilege to belong, even for so short a time. It couldn't finish here! Whatever happened, even if she had to defy her father, she would get to London.

  It was almost time for her entrance and she suddenly felt like a quivering jelly. 'For heaven's sake,' she chided herself, 'you don't have a word to speak, and you've done big, major roles, before. All you have to do is go on, stand around for a few minutes looking interested, and come off.'

  Lady Percy looked calm and self-possessed. Rosa envied her as she took up her position for her professional début. Suddenly a hand descended on her shoulder and Max whispered in her ear.

  'Good luck!'

  Rosa hadn't known he was backstage. She'd thought he was in the audience. As she turned towards him he grinned and gave her a gentle push and she was in front of the curtains, blinded by the lights, suddenly swept up into the action of the play. She barely had time to n
otice the audience before her part was over. For the first time she thought of Adam out there with Celia and her father. As she walked, dazed, towards the dressing room Max appeared in front of her.

  'You were wonderful,' he exclaimed, throwing an arm about her shoulder and hugging her close.

  Rosa laughed, shaky with relief. 'All I had to remember was not to trip over the step and allow enough room for Lady Percy's train. I don't think the performance relied too much on me.'

  'It depended on all of us,' he insisted, and dropped a light kiss on the end of her nose before releasing her and striding away.

  Rosa stared after him, bemused. Several young men had stolen kisses from her, and at sixteen she'd imagined herself in love with the older brother of a schoolfriend. Rosa, innocently responding to his ardent embraces, had been shocked when he'd demanded more, bitterly hurt when he'd accused her of leading him on. She hadn't known whether to be relieved or angry when the next time they met he'd ignored her. Max's kiss had been spontaneous, just friendly and casual, yet she wanted to call him back and fling herself into his arms, feel them tighten around her, and melt into his embrace. It hadn't been in any way amorous, there had been nothing, she told herself, but a congratulatory gesture. Actors were always kissing one another, and she'd better get used to it.

  Blushing furiously, she hurried into the dressing room. She was shameless! No nice girls had such thoughts. Or if they did, they didn't permit them to become all-absorbing. They banished temptation. But the recollection of Max's arm about her, and his lips brushing her skin, lingered and could not be dismissed.

  At the end of the performance her father and his friends were loud in their praise of how Mr Bridges-Adams had managed to suggest space and depth that were not there on the cramped stage, having the players move about it in a way that enhanced the illusion. The auditorium had been packed, Randle Ayrton had been triumphant as Falstaff, and the Company breathed a collective sigh of relief that the evening had been not merely successful, but a triumph.

  When all the congratulations had been said and the actors were dispersing, Mr Greenwood invited Adam, who had been with his party, and Max who had appeared beside them, to join his family and a few friends, including Agnes and her parents, for a belated supper.

  'Your turn tomorrow, Celia,' Max said cheerfully as they walked through the Rother Street market. 'The Dream is even more difficult to stage, so many more characters dancing about.'

  'I shall be glad to watch.' Rosa tried to sound normal, but Max had found her hand and tucked it under his arm, and she was hot and breathless walking so close beside him. Adam was behind, walking with Agnes and Celia, and she felt her embarrassment was tangible. Adam's glowering countenance when they reached home made her even more uncomfortable, and she seized the excuse to help fetch food from the kitchen.

  When she returned the men were standing in front of the fire, warming their hands. Jack, who had refused to come to the theatre, was with them. Adam and Max were to one side, talking.

  'So you won't be with us for much longer,' Rosa heard Adam ask. She flashed a glance at Max, trying to keep her face calm.

  'No, just until after the Birthday Celebrations,' Max said easily. 'As it's so close I thought I might as well stay for them. It seems far longer than six weeks since I came to Stratford.'

  *

  By the middle of the first week Rosa had recovered all her energy, no longer spending all day at the theatre designing and sewing costumes. She was on stage two or three times a week, although she went to help backstage every evening and for the two matinees. The only exception was when Max invited her to have dinner with him. It was the first Thursday and she'd been looking forward to seeing Roy Byford in his first appearance at Stratford as Falstaff in The Merry Wives of Windsor, but she didn't hesitate. Max was only here for another week, Falstaff would be on stage many more times in the weeks to come. She had begun to admit to herself how greatly she would miss Max when he left.

  'We'll go to the Red Horse, shall we?' he suggested. 'I hear it's one of the oldest coaching inns.'

  They walked through Bridge Street, Rosa explaining what she knew of its history. It was the main road through the town, wide, and once a market. The market stalls had became more permanent and eventually grew into houses, called Middle Row, but these had been pulled down a hundred years earlier when Clopton Bridge was widened.

  'Have you always had visitors coming to see Shakespeare's home town?" Max asked. 'When was the site first occupied?'

  'Some say in Roman times, but the main town started in the twelfth century.'

  'I've yet to find an English town that didn't grow at random,' Max said. 'I was completely lost in London, the streets there don't have any sense to them. At least in New York numbering the streets instead of giving them names helps strangers find their way.'

  Max commented on the different building styles. 'I imagine many of these houses were originally timber framed,' he mused. 'I'm not sure whether the stucco is an improvement.'

  'A lot of houses were rebuilt, and others changed. I believe it was done to try and make the town look fashionable, at a time when so many new terraces were being built in Leamington Spa. But this,' she indicated the classical portico of the Red Horse which they had just reached, 'used to be in front of the Shakespeare Hotel. It was moved here six years ago.'

  'I suppose it's more prominent here. Let's go in.'

  He took her elbow to guide her, and Rosa felt his hand tighten as they entered the foyer.

  'Well, Max Higham of all people. I didn't expect you to show your face here.'

  Felicity Corbin was just in front of them, one of a small party of superbly gowned and bejewelled women and men in dinner jackets. Her smile seemed unnaturally bright, but she ignored Rosa after one contemptuous glance.

  'You're busy I see,' she purred. 'It must take all your efforts looking after a schoolgirl. But that's all you can manage, isn't it, darling? A woman's too much for you.'

  She turned away, and there was a burst of laughter from the group as they went into the dining room. Max glared after them, then turned apologetically to Rosa.

  'I'm sorry. I wouldn't have brought you here if I'd thought that woman would insult you. Would you like to go somewhere else?'

  Rosa was incensed. 'That would be allowing her to win, wouldn't it?' she demanded. 'I'm as ready to ignore her as she is me. Let's go in.'

  They were shown to one of the best tables, fortunately well away from the other party, and Rosa sat with her back to them. Waiters fussed around them and without consulting Rosa Max ordered her a Manhattan cocktail.

  'Let's enjoy ourselves. This is to introduce you to New York,' he added, forcing himself to laugh and raising his glass to her.

  Rosa set herself to give a performance of a poised woman enjoying the company of a handsome and attentive escort. 'Do you live there? In New York? You mentioned a place called Woodstock,' she said. The veneer of sophistication slipped momentarily when the cocktail came. She sipped it cautiously. She wasn't used to wine, and had never tasted a cocktail.

  Max was making an effort to sound normal too. 'I live in New York now, but I was born in Woodstock and my folks still live there. The rest of the family, uncles and aunts, that is, mostly live in Virginia too, in Richmond and Norfolk.'

  'It seems so odd to have English place names all over America. I suppose the first settlers named them after their old homes.'

  'One of the first Lee family homes in Virginia was called Stratford. No one knows which Stratford, though! It could have been the east London one. But another Lee home was named Ditchley, and that's also a house near Woodstock here which used to be owned by a family called Lee. It might not be the same Lee family, but it's an odd coincidence.'

  'Does this sort of history fascinate you?' Rosa asked. The conversation was becoming less strained.

  'Yes, but mainly when it's connected with buildings and place names. Take Woodstock, Virginia. The first settlers were German, it had a Germ
an name and was only changed in 1762. The inhabitants petitioned George Washington who put forward a resolution in the State Legislature.'

  'Is that another coincidence? George Washington's family came from Sulgrave Manor, that's not far from Woodstock.'

  'But he never visited England. Rosa, I must go and see these places before I leave. If I hire a car one day will you come with me? To make up for any unpleasantness tonight.'

  'I – I'd love to, if my father permits,' Rosa said slowly. He must, she said silently. It might be her last opportunity to be alone with Max. She wanted to snatch at every chance to be with him.

  'Then we'll choose a day you're not performing, and I'll make it right with your father. I'm leaving as soon as the Birthday celebrations are over, so I only have a week left.'

  *

  'I forgot!' Jack insisted. 'We don't often deliver to Thornley Grange.'

  Mr Greenwood sighed. 'You are forgetting a great deal lately. It doesn't do the business any good.' He wasn't a choleric man, and he thought he understood Jack's confusion and disappointment at the mess the war had made of his life. Gentle treatment, he'd been told, was essential to help men like Jack who had never recovered from their experiences in the trenches. He even excused Jack when, as occasionally happened, he vanished for the day without warning and never spoke of what he'd been doing, or where he'd been. Mr Greenwood suspected that when Jack found life particularly difficult he crept away to hide in a den he and the other lads had made years ago, in a quiet spot upstream near Alveston. 'Never mind. Adam's coming to the Theatre tomorrow to see Rosa. She's been given a small part in Romeo and Juliet. He can take it home in his car.'

  'Adam Thorn's always here. If he wants to marry Rosa it's time he said so. Does he want her?'

  'I think so, but he hasn't said anything to me. I imagine he's waiting until the Festival is over. She's not likely to want to think about it at the moment, she's so preoccupied with the theatre.'

  'He's not good enough for her.'

  'Why do you say that?' Jack's father asked, startled. Jack rarely ventured an opinion not connected with his work. 'He's got a house and small estate, and plenty of money from his other ventures. He's a good man, kind and honest. You used to be friends.'